Volume I Part 3 (1/2)
”Well,” said I, ”and is not that probable enough?”
”Yes; but it could not have carried off the bank-notes--which were all gone---likewise. Could it Gr.i.m.j.a.w?”
Thus appealed to, the ancient dog set up a quavering howl, which might easily have been mistaken for the cry of an accusing spirit.
”Good Heavens! this is too horrible,” cried I. ”Be careful, Marmaduke, that you do not mention this to others. It is a frightful slander.”
”Slander!” returned my companion calmly. ”It is you who slander, if you suspect anybody. I have only told you what everybody knew at the time the mur...--well, then, when Sir Wentworth had his fit. The thing strikes you as it does me, that is all.”
”But is it not inconceivable,” urged I, ”if the crime was committed by the person we are thinking of, that he should retain this dumb witness of his atrocity, that he should let it live, far less should keep it in his private sitting-room--”
”No!” interrupted Marmaduke firmly. ”On the contrary, it strengthens my suspicions. You do not know the man as I do. It gives him gratification to subdue even a dog. This creature has no love for my uncle; but its excessive terror of him, which endured for months, nay, years, has gradually worn off. He obeys him now; whereas, as I have been told, it was long before it could do anything but s.h.i.+ver at the sound of his voice. After dinner, when I have been sitting with Sir Ma.s.singberd alone, he will sometimes give the dog a biscuit, saying with an awful smile: ”Here, Gr.i.m.j.a.w; you and I know something that n.o.body else knows; don't we?”
”Great Heavens!” cried I in horror; ”and what does he do that for?”
”Because,” replied Marmaduke bitterly, ”he loves to see me tremble.”
CHAPTER V.
THE STATE BEDROOM.
Marmaduke had scarcely concluded his narration, when steps were heard in the pa.s.sage. I daresay I turned pale at the thought of seeing the man of whom I had just heard such frightful things, for my companion observed, as if to rea.s.sure me, ”It is only Mr. Long.”
”Are you quite sure?” said I.
Marmaduke smiled sadly.
”Do you think that I do not know my uncle's step? I should recognize it amongst a score of others. If he overtook me in a crowded street, I should feel that he was coming and shudder as he pa.s.sed beside me...--Pray, come in, sir.”
”Well,” cried my tutor, entering, radiant with, his good news, ”no more moping at home, my lads; you are to be henceforth cavaliers--you are to scour the country. Boot and saddle! boot and saddle! Your uncle will not trust me to get you a steed, Marmaduke; there are none good enough for you, it seems, at Crittenden; he is going to send to London for an animal worthy of you. But never mind, Peter; you shall have the best mount that can be got in Mids.h.i.+re, and we will pit the country nag against the town.”
My tutor's voice revived me like a cordial: after the morbid horrors I had been listening to, his cheery talk was inexpressibly grateful, as the dawn and ordinary sounds of waking life are welcome to one who has suffered from a nightmare.
”I was just about to show Meredith the Hall,” said Marmaduke.
”Well it is time that we should be at our work, like good boys,”
observed Mr. Long, consulting his watch; ”but still, for one morning, it does not matter, if you would like to stay, Peter.”
”I would rather go home, sir,” cried I, with involuntary eagerness. I was sorry the next moment, even before I saw the pained expression of my young companion.
”He has had enough of Fairburn Hall already,” said he, bitterly. Then his face softened sadly, as though he would have said: ”Am I not, therefore, to be pitied, who pa.s.s every day and night under this accursed roof?”
”Come,” exclaimed Mr. Long, gaily, ”I do not believe, Master Meredith, in this new-born devotion to your books. Let us go over the house first. I will accompany you as cicerone, for I once knew every hole and corner of it--a great deal better, I will venture to affirm, than the heir himself here.” With these words he led the way into the pa.s.sage.
”Every chamber on this floor is the facsimile of its neighbour,” said Marmaduke: ”since you have seen mine, you have seen all--an immense bed, a piece of carpet islanded amid a black sea of oak, a cupboard or two large enough to live in, and shepherdesses, with swains in ruffles, occupying the walls.” There was, indeed, no appreciable difference in any of the rooms, except with regard to their aspect.
”When I first came to Fairburn, I slept here,” continued Marmaduke, as we entered an apartment looking to the north, ”and had that long illness, which you doubtless remember, sir. Heavens, what dreams I have had in this room! I have seen people standing by my bedside at night as clearly as I see you now. They called me delirious, but I believe I was stark mad.”
”I remember it well,” said Mr. Long, ”although I did not recollect that you occupied this room. How was it that you came to change your quarters?”