Part 14 (1/2)
CHAPTER VI.--The Warning--an Escape
Reilly, in the meantime, was not insensible to his danger. About eleven o'clock the next day, as he was walking in his garden, Tom Steeple made his appearance, and approached him with a look of caution and significance.
”Well, Tom,” said he, ”what's the news?”
Tom made no reply, but catching him gently by the sleeve of his coat, said, ”Come wid Tom; Tom has news for you. Here it is, in de paper;” and as he spoke, he handed him a letter, the contents of which we give:
”Dearest Reilly: The dreadful discovery I have made, the danger and treachery and vengeance by which you are surrounded, but, above all, my inexpressible love for you, will surely justify me in not losing a moment to write to you; and I select this poor creature as my messenger because he is least likely to be suspected. It is through him that the discovery of the accursed plot against you has been made. It appears that he slept in the castle last night, as he often does, and having observed Sir Thomas Whitecraft and that terrible man, the Red Rapparee, coming into the house, and going along with papa into his study, evidently upon some private business, he resolved to listen. He did so, and overheard the Rapparee stating to papa that every thing which took place on the evening you saved his life and frustrated his other designs upon the castle, was a plan preconceived by you for the purpose of making papa's acquaintance and getting introduced to the family in order to gain my affections. Alas! if you have resorted to such a plan, you have but too well succeeded. Do not, however, for one moment imagine that I yield any credit to this atrocious falsehood. It has been concocted by your base and unmanly rival, Whitecraft, by whom all the proceedings against you are to be conducted. Some violation of the penal laws, in connection with carrying or keeping arms, is to be brought against you, and unless you are on your guard you will be arrested and thrown into prison, and if not convicted of a capital offence and executed like a felon, you will at least be sent forever out of the country. What is to be done? If you have arms in or about your house let them be forthwith removed to some place of concealment. The Rapparee is to get a pardon from government, at least he is promised it by Sir Robert, if he turns against you. In one word, dearest Reilly, you cannot, with safety to your life, remain in this country. You must fly from it, and immediately too. I wish to see you. Come this night, at half-past ten, to the back gate of our garden, which you will find shut, but unlocked. Something--is it my heart?--tells me that our fates are henceforth inseparable, whether for joy or sorrow. I ought to tell you that I confessed my affection for you to papa on the evening you dined here, and he was not angry; but this morning he insisted that I should never think of you more, nor mention your name; and he says that if the laws can do it he will lose ten thousand pounds or he will have you sent out of the country. Lanigan, our cook, from what motive I know not, mentioned to me the substance of what I have now written. He is, it seems, a cousin to the bearer of this, and got the information from him after having had much difficulty, he says, in putting it together.
I know not how it is, but I can a.s.sure you that every servant in the castle seems to know that I am attached to you.
”Ever, my dearest Reilly, yours, and yours only, until death,
”Helen Folliard.”
We need not attempt to describe the sensations of love and indignation produced by this letter. But we shall state the facts.
”Here, Tom,” said Reilly, ”is the reward for your fidelity,” as he handed him some silver; ”and mark me, Tom, don't breathe to a human being that you have brought me a letter from the _Cooleen Bawn_. Go into the house and get something to eat; there now--go and get one of your bully dinners.”
”It is true,” said he, ”too true I am doomed-devoted. If I remain in this country I am lost. Yes, my life, my love, my more than life--I feel as you do, that our fates, whether for good or evil, are inseparable.
Yes, I shall see you this night if I have life.”
He had scarcely concluded this soliloquy when his namesake, Fergus Reiliy, disguised in such a way as prevented him from being recognized, approached him, in the lowly garb of a baccah or mendicant.
”Well, my good fellow,” said he, ”what do you want? Go up to the house and you will get food.”
”Keep quiet,” replied the other, disclosing himself, ”keep quiet; get all your money into one purse, settle your affairs as quickly as you can, and fly the country this night, or otherwise sit down and make your will and your peace with G.o.d Almighty, for if you are found here by to-morrow night you sleep in Sligo jail. Throw me a few halfpence, making as it were charity. Whitecraft has spies among your own laborers, and you know the danger I run in comin' to you by daylight.
Indeed, I could not do it without this disguise. To-morrow night you are to be taken upon a warrant from Sir Robert Whitecraft; but never mind; as to Whitecraft, leave him to me--I have a crow to pluck with him.”
”How is that, Fergus?”
”My sister, man; did you not hear of it?”
”No, Fergus, nor I don't wish to hear of it, for your sake; spare your feelings, my poor fellow; I know perfectly well what a hypocritical scoundrel he is.”
”Well,” replied Fergus, ”it was only yesterday I heard of it myself; and are we to bear this?--we that have hands and eyes and limbs and hearts and courage to stand n.o.bly upon the gallows-tree for striking down the villain who does whatever he likes, and then threatens us with the laws of the land if we murmur? Do you think this is to be borne?”
”Take not vengeance into your own hand, Fergus,” replied Reilly, ”for that is contrary to the laws of G.o.d and man. As for me, I agree with you that I cannot remain in this country. I know the vast influence which Whitecraft possesses with the government. Against such a man I have no chance; this, taken in connection with my education abroad, is quite sufficient to make me a marked and suspected man. I will therefore leave the country, and ere to-morrow night, I trust, I shall be beyond his reach. But, Fergus, listen: leave Whitecraft to G.o.d; do not stain your soul with human blood; keep a pure heart, and whatever may happen be able to look up to the Almighty with a clear conscience.”
Fergus then left him, but with a resolution, nevertheless, to have vengeance upon the baronet very unequivocally expressed on his countenance.
Having seriously considered his position and all the circ.u.mstances' of danger connected with it, Reilly resolved that his interview that night with his beloved _Cooleen Bawn_ should be his last. He accordingly communicated his apprehensions to an aged uncle of his who resided with him, and entrusted the management of his property to him until some change for the better might take place. Having heard from Fergus Reilly that there were spies among his own laborers, he kept moving about and.
making such observations as he could for the remainder of the day.
When the night came he prepared himself for his appointment, and at, or rather before, the hour of half-past ten, he had reached the back gate, or rather door of the garden attached to Corbo Castle. Having ascertained that it was unlocked, he entered with no difficulty, and traversed the garden without being able to perceive her whose love was now, it might be said, all that life had left him. After having satisfied himself that she was not in the garden, he withdrew to an arbor or summer-house of evergreens, where he resolved to await until she should come. He did not wait long. The latch of the entrance gate from the front made a noise; ah, how his heart beat! what a commotion agitated his whole frame! In a few moments she was with him.
”Reilly,” said _Cooleen Bawn_, ”I have dreadful news to communicate.”