Volume I Part 71 (1/2)
Looking round, he saw her gesture and was silent.
”Gregory, art thou honest?” she inquired, in a whisper.
”Why, an' it be, Mistress Elspeth, when it suits with my discretion; that is, if discretion be none the worse for it, eh?”
”Thou art ever so, Gregory; and yet”--
”If ye want honesty, eschew a knave, and catch a fool by the cap. None but fools worry and distemper themselves with this same pale-faced whining jade, that will leave 'em i' the lurch at a pinch, Dame Honesty, forsooth. More wit, more wisdom; and there is a plentiful lack of wit in your honest folk,” continued the cynic, as though pursuing a train of thought to its ultimate development.
”Gregory, thou art not the rogue thee seems. I think beneath that rough and captious speech there lurks more honesty than thou art willing to acknowledge. Thou hast been angered with baiting until thou wouldst run at every dog that comes into the paddock, though he fawned on thee, and were never so trusty and well-behaved.”
Gregory was silent. He looked upwards to the bright moon and the quenched orbs that lay about her path. Again Elizabeth whispered, first looking cautiously around--
”Wilt do me a service?”
”Ay, for hire,” he quickly answered.
”If thine errand is done faithfully, thou mayest get more largess than thou dream'st of.”
”Ye want a spoon belike, that ye soil not your delicate fingers?”
”Ay, Gregory, an' thou wilt, we 'll first use thee.”
”And then the spoon shall be broken, I trow. Well, if I am a spoon, I'll be a golden one, and I shall be worth something when I'm done with.
Understand ye this, fair mistress?”
”Yes, knave; and thou shalt have thy reward.”
”What! I shall swing the highest, eh?”
”Peace; I want a messenger. Take this.”
”Not treason, I trow,” said Gregory, as he eyed the billet with a curious but hesitating glance.
”Go by the nearer path to the wood. Where the road divides to the ford and the farther pastures; take the latter, then turn to the right, where the old fir-tree rises above the rock. Walk carefully through the bushes at the base of the crag. Near unto a sharp angle of the rock thy path will be stayed by a fallen tree. Grasp this with both hands, and whistle thrice. I know thou canst be trusty and discreet. Yet remember thy life is in my power shouldst thou fail.” She paused, pointing significantly at the billet. ”Now hasten. Bring back, and to me only, what shall be committed to thy care. I will expect thee at my window by midnight.”
Now it so happened that this precise spot was identified to Gregory's apprehensions with the very place where his attention had that night been directed by the mysterious disappearance of the grey man of the mine. He would certainly have preferred making his second visit by daylight; but needs must when a woman drives, especially when that woman is a mistress, and gold is the goad. Besides he might perchance get a glimpse of the treasure; and his pockets were wide and his gripe close.
Thus stimulated to the adventure, he addressed himself to perform her behest.
The night was singularly clear, and the shadows lay on his path, still and beautifully distinct. As he hastened onwards the wood grew darker and more impervious. Here and there the moonbeams crept fantastically through the boughs, like fairy lamps glimmering on his path. Sometimes, preternaturally bright, the wood seemed lit up as though for some magic festival. He followed the directions he had received, pausing not until he saw the dark fir-tree rearing its broad crest and gigantic arms into the clear and twinkling heaven. It looked like the guardian genius of the place,--a huge monster lifting its terrific head, as though to watch and warn away intruders. Beside this was the rock where his adventure must terminate.
With more of desperation than courage he scrambled through the bushes.
Not daring to look behind him--for he felt as though his steps were dogged, an idea for which he could not account--he made his way with difficulty by the crag until he came to a fallen tree that had apparently tumbled from the rock. Laying hold of the trunk he whistled faintly. It was answered; an echo, or something even more indistinct, gave back the sound. His heart misgave him; but he stood committed to the task, and durst not withdraw. Again he whistled, but louder than before, and again it was repeated. With feelings akin to those of the condemned wretch when he drops the fatal handkerchief, he sounded the last note of the signal. His breath was suspended. Suddenly he felt the ground give way beneath his feet, and he was precipitated into a chasm, dark, and by no means soft at the nether extremity.
This was a reception for which he was not prepared. He had sustained a severe shock; but luckily his bones were whole. Recovering from his alarm, he heard a low jabbering noise, and presently a light, which, it seems, had been extinguished by his clumsiness, was again approaching.
The intruder saw, with indescribable horror, a hideous black dwarf bearing a torch. He was dressed in the Eastern fas.h.i.+on. A soiled turban, torn and dilapidated, and a vest of crimson, showed symptoms of former splendour that no art could restore. This mysterious being came near, muttering some uncouth and unintelligible jargon; while the unfortunate captive, caught like a wolf in a trap, looked round in vain for some outlet whereby to escape. The only pa.s.sage, except the hole through which he had tumbled, was completely filled by the broad, unwieldy lump of deformity that was coming towards him. The latter now surveyed him cautiously, and at a convenient distance, croaking, in a broken and foreign accent--
”What ho! Prisoner, by queen's grace. Better stop when little door shall open. Steps, look thee, for climb; hands and toes; go to.”