Part 39 (2/2)
Cuthbert recoiled in horror. A sudden illumination came upon him. He put together chance words dropped, expressions used, things he had seen as well as what he had heard, and his face grew pale with conflicting emotions and his extreme bewilderment.
”What?” he gasped; ”is that what it means? Is that the hideous deed to be done? Great Heavens protect us from such men, if it has come to that!
”How knowest thou this thing?” he added, turning almost fiercely upon the old woman, who was still regarding him steadily. ”If it be as thou sayest, sure such a fearful secret would be held sacred from all.”
Esther smiled her strange smile.
”Secrets known to many have a wondrous fas.h.i.+on of leaking out. And, moreover, the wise woman has means thou knowest naught of for learning the things concealed from the world. Cuthbert Trevlyn, look back, search thy memory, and thou wilt surely know that I have spoken naught but the truth. If thou art not one of them, thou knowest their dark secrets; thou canst not deny it!”
Again he recoiled from her.
”I know their secrets! I one of them! Woman, dost thou believe this vile thing of me?
”No, I believe it not. I know that thou hast but let thyself be led into dire peril through that foolish, generous weakness of youth and thy Trevlyn blood, against which I have warned thee--and warned thee in vain. But dost thou think thou canst despise the warnings of the wise woman and escape deadly peril? Cuthbert Trevlyn, listen to me and heed me well. This thing is known--is known in high places. The King and his counsellors have had intelligence thereof. The deed of darkness will be frustrated, and heads will fall beneath the axe of the executioner. Already whispers are going abroad--already the guilty ones are watched and spied upon; and with the guilty there are those suspected who know naught of this vile deed. Shall I say more, or can thine own quick wits supply the rest?”
Cuthbert had turned a little pale. His eyes were fixed upon this woman's face.
”Tell me all,” he said hoa.r.s.ely. ”What dost thou mean by these dark sayings?”
”I mean,” she answered, in clear low tones, ”that there is peril for Trevlyn in this thing. Thine own rashness, Miriam's spite and quickness of wit to avail herself of every trifling matter that pa.s.ses, the presence in London of Sir Richard and his son at this time, the old tradition surrounding the name of Trevlyn--all are helping on the work; all are pointing in one direction. Rash boy, thou hast been seen with Father Urban in the streets--a Jesuit, a seminary priest, a man suspected of many plots and many daring acts of courage and cunning. Thou art suspected to have been concerned in his escape one dark and foggy night, when thou wert on the river in thy wherry; and he must have been taken on board some such craft. Thou hast been seen with others who are suspected of being mixed up in this business. Thou hast appeared within the city walls when they appeared; when they were absent thou wast absent likewise. Thou wouldst not heed warnings when yet there was time; thou must now take double heed to thy steps--”
”Thou spokest of Sir Richard and his son but now,” cried Cuthbert, interrupting hastily. ”For myself, I must take the consequences of my rashness. The fault is mine, and if harm comes to me I can bear it; but if others have been imperilled through me, I should never forgive myself. Tell me plainly if this has been so; keep me not in suspense! How can one word be breathed against the loyalty of a man faithful and true as Sir Richard, and a stanch Protestant to boot?”
The old woman shook her head meaningly.
”A man's character and reputation and life may too easily be whispered away in these evil times. But listen to me, Cuthbert Trevlyn, and all may yet be well. Thou hast been noted, spied upon, observed. There be those who have seen thee in strange places and strange company, and it behoves thee to look well to thyself. But for thy kinsmen, methinks that no whisper regarding them has as yet reached high quarters. As thou sayest, Sir Richard's loyalty is known, and men will not easily believe such ill of him. Yet he were best to be gone. Miriam is at work. Miriam has tools that even I wot not of, and she hates the head of Trevlyn's house with a bitter and undying hatred. Let but this thing be known--as known it will be to all the world in a few more days--and she will leave no stone unturned to overwhelm him in the ruin that must then fall upon so many. Vengeance such as that would be dear to her heart. She would weave her web right skilfully to entrap his unsuspecting steps. Wherefore let him begone--let all who bear the name of Trevlyn begone, and that right speedily. Flight will not be thought flight now; for this thing is as yet a profound secret, and thou must not breathe a word that I have spoken to thee abroad, else thou mayest do harm of which thou little reckest. Let him go speedily; and go thou likewise, and do not tarry. If thou wouldst undo the harm thy rashness has well-nigh brought to thy kinsfolk, carry them this warning, and make them listen.”
”That will I do right speedily,” answered Cuthbert, whose heart was beating high with excitement and agitation. ”Did harm befall them through deed of mine, I should never forgive myself.”
”Go then,” answered Esther; ”go, and be thou cautious and wary. Remember thou hast many foes, and that the hour of peril darkens over this land. Strange things will be heard and seen ere many days have pa.s.sed. Take heed that thou be far away from hence ere the day of reckoning comes. Take heed that Miriam's vow of vengeance be not accomplished, and that the house of Trevlyn be drawn into the vortex!”
Cuthbert descended the stairs with uncertain steps, his mind in a whirl of conflicting feelings. He believed that Esther was sincere in her desire for the welfare of the house of Trevlyn. He trusted her, and he saw that she had in some way or another become possessed of information concerning himself of a very particular and intimate kind. This being so, it was easy to believe that she had discovered other matters of hidden import; and he was quite disposed to give her credit for dealings in magic and charms which should show her the things that were to be.
The horror of the knowledge of this plot was upon him as he went forth into the streets and felt the keen air and the cold rain das.h.i.+ng in his face. He could not doubt the truth of Esther's words. All he had seen and heard tallied too well with it to leave in his mind any room for doubt. A plot of some sort he had always suspected--he would have been foolish indeed to have come to any other conclusion; but a plot of such malignity and such diabolical scope would never have presented itself to his mind. He found it hard to believe that such a terrible thing could be menaced against the King and the n.o.bles of the land, many amongst whom must surely be of the same faith as those conspirators who were plotting in the dark.
And then the peril that menaced the Trevlyns--what of that? Cuthbert remembered the looks bent upon him a few days back by the men-at-arms in the Parliament House. He remembered the light of the sentry flas.h.i.+ng in his face as he turned away from the door in at which the tall man they called Guido Fawkes had vanished but a few moments before. He knew that he had been observed more than once with some attention as he had stepped on board his wherry, or had brought it up to the mooring place. Could it be that he was really watched and suspected? It seemed like it, indeed. And what was more serious still, his kinsmen were like to fall under suspicion through his rash disregard of warnings.
For himself Cuthbert cared comparatively little--perhaps rather too little--for he possessed a strong dash of his father's stubbornness of disposition; and in him the Trevlyn courage was intermingled with a good deal of absolute rashness and hardihood; but the thought that Sir Richard and his family should suffer for his sake was intolerable. That must at all cost be prevented. Surely he could warn them and avert the danger.
As the youth walked rapidly westward through the miry streets, he was revolving the situation rapidly in his mind, and at last he reached a conclusion which he muttered aloud as he went.
”That will be the best: I will to mine uncle and Philip and tell them that. It will make them hasten away at once; but I will not go with them. If I am suspected I must not be seen with them, nor seem to have dealings with them. If they leave town and I remain, none will suspect that I have warned them and sent them forth. To fly with them would at once raise such thoughts. Here must I remain, and let myself be seen abroad, so will they the better escape Miriam's evil intent. Sir Richard has friends at Court. Lord Andover and others will speak for him if need be. I doubt me much, he being quietly gone, whether any will dare to strive to bring his name into disgrace. There be those to find who are the guilty ones. Sure they may let the innocent go free. As for me, I will not flee. I would fain see the end of this matter. And perchance I might even warn Master Robert Catesby of the peril that hangs over his head. Strange how so gentle and courteous a gentleman can sell himself to a work of such devilish wickedness!”
Divided betwixt horror of the deed and pity for the conspirators who had been practically discovered and frustrated in their evil work, and who had doubtless persuaded themselves and been persuaded by their ghostly advisers that it was an act of virtue and justice and right, Cuthbert walked on, wondering more and more at the strange vagaries of human conscience, and at the extraordinary self delusion possible to the sons of the Romish faction.
It was long since he had decided definitely and of resolute conviction to cast in his lot with those who held the Reformed faith; but had he ever had any secret doubts and leanings towards the faith in which he had been reared, the revelations of that night would have proved enough for him. He knew--none better--that this diabolic deed was planned and executed with the full consent, approbation, and blessing of the Romanist priests, and might even be known to the Pope himself. Sorrowful and indignant as Cuthbert had often been for the persecuted Romanists, and keenly as his sympathies would have been stirred had they risen in man-like fas.h.i.+on to claim liberty of conscience and fight boldly for the cause in which their hearts were bound up, he could regard a plot like this with nothing but loathing and horror. He wondered that men could be found willing to sell themselves to such iniquity. Yet he knew, from what he had himself seen, that these were no mere hirelings bought over with money to do this thing, but that they were gentlemen, most of them of n.o.ble birth and large means, all of them actuated by motives of devotion and religious enthusiasm; and that they did not prize their own lives or regard them as in any way precious, but would gladly offer them up so that this thing might be accomplished.
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