Cradled in a Storm. A story of Gaunchester-Haugh

Front matter

CRADLED m A STORM CRADLED IN A STORM A STORY OF G.IUNC HESTER -HAUGH BY THEODORE A. THARP. .AUTHOR OF "Till. STVORP OF DAMOCLES," :*f VOLS LONDON JOHN AND ROBERT MAXWELL MILTON HOUSE, ST. BRIDE STREET, LUDGATE CIRCUS AND SHOE LANE. FLEET STREET, E.I '^Dramatic and other rights reserved \ Beiucateti WITH MUCH AFFECTION TO E. M. P. A PRINCESS OF SISTERS A STORY OF GAUNCHESTER-HAUGH HOW IT GOT INTO PRINT "AVell, of all the extraordinary tales I ever heard, com mend me to that," I said, as my friend concluded what he had been telling me, and what he had promised to tell me some time before, but had been prevented. " There you are, then — putit, on paper ; you are welcome to it," said he. "But, my dear fellow, why don't you . It would cer tainly be worth your while " " No, no ; I'm no hand witli the pen.

You are an author ; you use it ; I am free to give you permission now ; and if it turns up trumps, so much the better." " AVell, thank you, then I will. I shall tell it as nearly as possible as I have heard it from you." " At any rate, you can write with the courage of con viction — the conviction of truth." Yes, I felt that : I knew he was not a man to exag gerate, aud that he had his facts from the best authorities, the central figures themselves. Consequently, this strange story is submitted to the reading Public with a warranty which may possibly give it additional interest. A. H. CONTENTS

Prologue

CHAPTER PAGB I. IN THE STILLY NIGHT 1 II. THE WATCHDOGS AND THEIR PREY .... 6 III. IN DREAD OF MADNESS 12 IV. "UNLICENSED TO ETERNITY!" 20 V. A NAMELESS GRAVE 26 VI. DISMISSED WITH IGNOMINY 35 THE STORY AS TOLD BY MATTIE FREITH I. FORBIDDEN SWEETS 46 II. MY HIGHLAND LADDIE 62 III. HOW I WAS GREETED ON MY RETURN FROM SCHOOL . 75 IV. A HIDDEN TERROR . 85 V. A DOUBTFUL EXPLANATION 95 VI. HOW I RESORT TO STRATAGEM TO RELIEVE MY MIND . 102 VII. THE MORNING MAIL 110 VIII. HOW OUR MYSTERIOUS VISITOR RETURNS, AND WHAT I LEARN FROM HIM 117 IX. "THE LOTUS POOL " 127 X. OUTSIDE THE ENEMY'S CASTLE CONTENTS VIII MATTIE FREITIl'.S STORY — Continued CHATTER PAGE XI. HOW LOVE CREEPS IN THROUGH THE PORTCULLIS . 148 XII. THE WRITING ON THE PANEL ..... 158 XIII. THE SECRET OF THE TOMB ...... 169 XIV. HOW THE GENERAL INSULTS THE PARSON AT MY EXPENSE 180 XV.

HOW I THROW DOWN THE GAUNTLET AND HAVE TO PICK IT UP AGAIN 190 XVI. NIGHT PROWLERS 200 XVII. HOW THE GENERAL REVIVES AN OLD ENTERTAINMENT FOR MY BENEFIT 213 XVIII. A FATAL GAGE D' AMOUR 226 THE STORY COMPLETED BY ATHOL KELSO XIX. IN THE HOUSE OF THE DEAD ..... 242 XX. MISADVENTURE OR MANSLAUGHTER .... 262 XXI. A RARA AVIS 268 XXII. THE BUTLER'S DYING STATEMENT .... 277 XXIII. A SECRET DESPATCH 287 XXIV. THE SANCTUARY 294 XXV. WITH RATHF.R QUEER CHARACTERS .... 309 XXVI. A SHINY NIGHT 318 XXVII. TWO SUSPICIOUS STRANGERS ..... 327 XXVIII. IN THE HOUR OF NEED 334 XXIX. THE AVENGING HAND 344 XXX. A dove-feather'd RAVEN ...... 350 XXXI. FOUL SECRETS 359 XXXII. THE NIGHT IS LONG 3gg

Epilogue

CRADLED IX A STORM -prologue

Chapter I. In The Stilly Night

Such was the mansion where the great man dwelt, A widower and childless ; and he felt The loneliness, the uncongenial gloom. That like a presence haunted every room ; For though not given to weakness, he could feel The pain of wounds, that ache because they heal. AUNCHESTER-HAUGH stood in the midst of a low-lying tract of flat sward-land, close to a winding river — hence the latter part of its name. The river was deep and sullen, and crawled sluggishly down to the sea between rugged banks, which, for the most part, hid it from view. Its waters were shadowed by overhanging woods and giant alders, far along its tortuous line, both to east and west of the mansion. There was a weird style of beauty about Gaunehester- Haugh, an old-world look, which gave it a charm, investing it with the glamour of mystery and age.

The house was Elizabethan ; its several gables, thickly covered with ivy, B which rounded off the vertical angles and crept up into the crooked chimney-stacks, making the old building look like a vast bower of evergreens. Most of the latticed windows were choked with the ubiquitous creeper, which, together with the deep shade of hoary, lichen-covered elms standing around, kept out the light, and rendered the interior of the house gloomy on the brightest day. The soil was heavy and fertile ; there was an over growth of luxuriant vegetation on every hand ; an un kempt look about the lawn, the shrubberies, the paths, and the trailing rose-bushes which sprawled over the half weeded flower-beds ; the gravel-drive in front of the house was encrusted and gangrened with damp, and be sprinkled with grass-tufts ; the sun-dial was clad in velvet green ; moss also grew in the corners of the doorsteps and on the sides of the casements and window-sills.

Yet the place was not uninhabited, and the owner was at home. It was simply degenerating into a howling wilderness from indifference and neglect. General Crutwell was that owner ; a Waterloo veteran, who had retired from the world when he retired from the service, having seen a great deal of both, and more than enough of the former to disgust him for life. He now lived, or rather vegetated, as a misanthropic recluse, "the world forgetting, by the world forgot," and refused all intercourse with his neighbours. He was not an old man at this preliminary period of the story — barely fifty five ; but the last ten years had ploughed deep into his face, and aged him so that he looked nearer seventy. In that bitterly eventful decade of his life he had been dishonoured, robbed, and stricken with grief.

No wonder he3 had forsworn the world, its pomps and vanities, its deceits and hollow pleasures. But he had done more, as if in penance for the sins of others ; he had become a IN THE STILLY NIGHT 3 mortifies of the flesh — an ascetic hermit and miser, denying himself many of the ordinary luxuries of a gentleman, and crowning his lonely misery with self privations and discomfort. The General's staff of servants was limited to three — Scroils, his butler and factotum ; Harriet, wife of the latter, acting as housekeeper, cook, and maid-of-all-work ; and Nathan Slugg, an apathetic gardener, who lodged as an indoor servant — altogether a gloomy household in a gloomy house, with no young faces to brighten it. The gardener, Nathan, as he preferred to be called, perhaps considering his patronymic of Slugg as rather a reflection of his true character, was utterly incompetent to contend single-handed against Nature on that prolific soil : so, finding he had always more to do than lie could manage, ended in doing nothing, and allowed the premises to run wild without fear of reproof or remonstrance.

Peter Scroils w_as an old soldier, who had served with his master through several campaigns, and in earlier years had acted as his batman when the General was a Captain commandinghis company. He had seen that master under the enemy's fire unblanched and steady as a rock, and he had seen him under the fires of sorrow withered and bowed to the ground. He knew all the painful secrets of his heart ; but the past was a sealed book to both. General Crutwrell was not one to invite confidence, and the faithful Scroils knew his place better than to speak on such matters unless spoken to ; so the events of those ten years were never alluded to, and remained buried in the tomb of silence. Although General Crutwell had cut himself off from the world and civilisation, the formalities of a gentleman's house were ever strictly observed at Gaunehester-Haugh.

Each night the gong sounded for dinner, and each night b the tall, spare fi3gure of the old soldier, erect and military in carriage, and invariably attired in evening dress, came down the stairs and went into his study on the opposite side of the hall to the dining-room, and there awaited the butler's announcement that "dinner was on the table." And a ghost of a banquet it was to which the grave, silent master of the house sat down every evening ; a truly frugal repast — a mockery on the name of dinner, and seeming the greater mockery from the stiff ceremony attending it. But Harriet had standing orders as to her catering, and never presumed to exceed them. A tedious, lugubrious affair was that formal meal in the dark, oak-panelled dining-room — a gloomy room at any time — less so now, perhaps, in the evening light of summer than in winter, with a dimly-burning moderator lamp upon the table and not even a candle on the sideboard ; the butler, in his noiseless shoes, stalking around like a phantom ; the General never opening his lips except to admit food, which he ate slowly, sparingly, with auto matical movements — the more slowly, too, since he was handicapped by the loss of one arm, the left, shot off at Waterloo, and now represented by a looped-up sleeve.

With some dexterity from custom he used a scimitar shaped knife, the curve of which was adapted to cutting up his meat with one hand, whilst the point did duty for a fork. But it was a long, solemn process, and Scroils was always glad when it was over, and when the tall form of his master rose from the table and marched back into the study. There the old General sat poring over abstruse litera ture till twelve o'clock at night, without even the solace of a cigar, a cup of coffee, or a modest glass of whisky-and water. In fact, his only stimulant was a little light claret at dinner; his only extravagance, that of burning the mid night oil. He read to forget, not what he read, but what IN THE STILLY NIGHT 5 he had suffered of late years ; and while he studied, an even sterner look than at other times pervaded his sharp featured visage.

His was not a handsome face, though aristocratic and soldier-like ; there was a gaunt, wolfish look about it — gaunt like his frame, attenuated by scanty fare and mental wear and tear. He was close-shaven, and wore his grizzled hair cut short. His thick eyebrows hung like eaves over his black, flashing eyes ; his nose was long, and straight, and thin, with dilating nostrils ; his mouth hard, lips compressed — the upper seamed by the sabre of a French cuirassier. Taking him altogether, General Crutwell was of a repellent aspect — not the sort of man you would care to make a friend of, still less an enemy. It is summer — a warm, still night in July — yet the master of Gaunehester-Haugh is not tempted to step out into the sweet air, laden with the scent of clover from adjacent meadows, nor to take a stroll through the romantic grounds.

No ; he pores on and on over those musty books by the light of a green-shaded reading-lamp placed on a table near the window, which is open, and reaches to the ground. It is dark outside ; an infant moon and a few hazy stars relieve the sable awning of the heavens, but throw little light upon the floor of the earth. Not a rustle disturbs the stillness of the night ; everything is asleep ; all is perfectly quiet and silent. So silent is it everywhere — So silent yon can hear the mouse Eun and rummage along the beams Behind the wainscot of the wall. But by-and-by, as it draws near midnight, something seems to disturb the studies of the General. Two or three times he looks up quickly from his books. Is it at some sound he hears, or at some thought that strikes him ? " Ha ! What's that ? Great heavens ! what's that ?

" He starts up from his chair, and nearly overturns the lamp in his sudden movement of alarm — alarmed, and very naturally, for at that moment the still night is ringing with frightful shrieks, the shrieks of some one in terror or agony, and at the same time the guttural snarling and worrying sound of some savage beast is heard close by — somewhere out in the grounds amongst the shrubberies. " Help, help ! Valdor ! Valdor ! Help ! " The screams rise higher and higher, the deep snarls and growls louder and fiercer. " Merciful heavens ! who is it ? What is it . " The General pauses to listen for one instant ; then, snatching up a stout stick from a corner of the room, darts out into the semi-darkness, in the direction whence these terrible noises seem to come.

Chapter II. The Watch-dogs

A>'D THEIR PREY The frantic screams suddenly ceased, but the furious savaging still continued. Guided by the tumult, General Crutwell made his way to a spot on the further side of the wide lawn, where he discerned a motionless body stretched out upon the dewy grass, and beside it two huge dogs locked in mortal strife. The dogs were his own, as he realised at once. By a whim of their master's, they were let loose at nine o'clock every night to keep off thieves ; not that the neighbour- THE WATCH-DOGS ylND THEIR PREY 7 hood, far away as it was from any large town, was ill-famed for burglars, but General Crutwell had a monomaniacal dread of being robbed. No prowling felon, how-ever, had yet come near Gaunehester-Haugh ; and had any done so by chance, he would have found two formidable watchmen on the alert somewhere in the sequestered walks surround ing the house — one a savage young mastiff, the other a powerful wolf-hound, an old pet of the General's, which he had brought over with him from the Pyrenees.

Now at last this four-footed night-patrol had caught some intruder, and, having apparently worried their victim to death, were fighting over the body, and tearing the hfe out of each other. Who was that victim ? A woman, as the General, to his horror and amazement, could see by the dim light of the blurred moon and stars — an uncertain light which filled the atmosphere with a spectral haze. He struck at the hounds with his bludgeon, but failed to separate them ; and then, more concerned for the fate of the luckless person who had fallen under their fangs, paid no further heed to them, but leant over the prostrate body, and called loudly to his servants for help. But the woman, whoever she was, was still alive, as he discovered from her low moaning, which above the horrid noise of the dogs he could not hear until he stooped down close to her.

But though not dead, she was quite un conscious, and lay there weltering in her blood, which smothered her face and rendered her features unrecognis able — her throat and hands lacerated by the dogs' teeth, and the bosom of her dress torn open. Again the General shouted out to his servants, and presently the dancing gleam of a lantern was seen approaching from the house, and in another half-minute Scroils and the gardener came running to the spot. Meanwhile, the fierce struggle between the hounds raged on. With muffled roars they rolled over and over on the turf in a confused heap — an indistinct jumble in that weird light. But suddenly the fight came to an end. One had the other down in a gurgling death-grapple, and in a few minutes was mauling at the unresisting carcase of the vanquished.

The hyæna-like jaws of the wolf-hound had throttled the life out of the young mastiff, which, though ferocious as a maddened tiger, had not attained its full strength, and so succumbed to its older and tougher antagonist. "Here, Scroils, quick ! call Harriet!" cried the General, still bending anxiously over the mangled form of the unfortunate woman. " These dogs have half killed some one." " Bless me ! who, sir?" exclaimed the butler, in con sternation. "Ah, dear, dear, I was afraid those awful screams meant mischief." " Then why didn't you come out quicker ? " " I only waited for the lantern, sir. Ha ! mercy on us, it's a woman ! What could she be doin' out here this time o' night ? " "Um — bad job, bad job!" muttered the gardener. " 'Fernal darvils ! I knew they'd murder some 'ut." Then as the light of the lantern fell upon the dress of the prostrate person, Nathan added in astonishment : "Why, heart alive, sir ! it's a lady, sure-li."

" Yes, that it is, sir ! a lady, and no mistake," observed Scroils. " Who on earth can it be ? " " How should I know ? " cried the General impatiently. " Don't stand talking there. Take her into the house, and call your wife." " Hey ! get out, you brute ! " A vicious kick from the gardener, and a yelp, followed by a threatening growl from the wolf-hound, who had left the dead mastiff, and just THE WATCH-DOGS AND THEIR PREY 9 then came limping back towards the group around the fallen lady, called forth : " How dare you do that? Let the dog alone ! " from his master. " Down, Valdor ! Why, what's the matter with him ? Here, stand back ! " to the servants ; then, raising his stick, the General repeated, in a voice of thunder : " Down, Valdor ! " But, in spite of the repulse, the hound drew near again, and with a low whimpering cry, crept cringingly up to the insensible form lying in their midst, and licked her hands, at which Nathan muttered that "the brute was just craving after the blood."

The animal's behaviour was certainly strange, but he evidently meant no further mischief, and appeared cowed and trembling. Seeing this, the General spoke to him gently, and patted his back, but withdrew his hand hastily, for the wolf-hound's coat was wet with gore and saliva from the recent encounter. " He's killed Tartar, sir ! " said the gardener, throwing the lantern-light on the stiffening form of the other hound. " Can't make itout," remarked Scroils. " Here, never mind anything else ! " said the General, who was equally puzzled. " Take that poor woman indoors at once. Back, Valdor ! Good dog!" The animal obeyed, wagged his tail, and looked in telligently up into his master's face. The two servants between them now gently lifted the unconscious lady, and carried her into the house, the General preceding them with the lantern, whilst Valdor limped alongside, whining now and again as though in pain.

They laid her on a sofa in the housekeeper's room, and committed her to the care of Harriet, who was wringing her hands at the terrible accident, and going on in a very alarming way, much to the General's irritation. The sight of so much blood, and the dreadful wounds on the poor sufferer's throat, were enough to shock any woman ; but Harriet quickly recovered herself on a sharp rebuke from her master : " Get some warm water and bandages," said he. " Bathe her face, and attend to her properly." " Hadn't I better go for the doctor, sir ? " suggested Scroils. " Doctor ! no ; what can he do ? "Them dog-bites, I mean, sir — oughtn't they to be looked to — costicked or something ? " " Oh, no, nonsense ; there's nothing the matter with the dogs." " Very good, sir. I expect it was the young 'un that mauled her, and perhaps old Valdor was taking her part, and that's how they fought " — a view of the matter which now occurred to the butler as possible, though at the same time unaccountable ; and so thought his master.

"It's a most extraordinary and unfortunate affair," muttered the General, adding, "but — your wife can do everything that's necessary. Wash all that blood from her face, Harriet ; cleanse the wounds thoroughly, and then apply wet bandages. She'll come to presently ; directly she does, give her some wine and water." "But excuse me, sir, I really think we ought to have the doctor," ventured Harriet. " Stuff and nonsense ; there's no need at all for that," rejoined the General, whose objection to calling in medical aid, unless absolutely necessary, arose from the fact that he did not wish the strange mishap to become public, and so cause a possible scandal. With hermit-like instinct he shrank from publicity in any form. But had he known it, there was another and a stronger reason in the background for keeping the matter private.

When he did know it THE WATCH-DOGS AND THEIR PREY 11 presently, he looked upon his precaution as prophetic and providential. But another discovery immediately nullified such precaution. Harriet remonstrated, and said she was afraid of the responsibility ; but the General paid no heed to her re marks, merely replying that as soon as the lady recovered consciousness they were to let him know, and with that left the room. As he passed out through the door he found the wolf hound stretched across the mat as if keeping sentry. He spoke to the animal, and called him by name to follow ; but Valdor refused to move, and the General, wondering again at the dog's peculiar behaviour, allowed him to stay where he was, and went back to his own study. It was with a vague pretence of reading that he settled again to his books, for what had just happened disturbed him considerably ; nor had he sat down more than five minutes before he was interrupted by Scroils suddenly appearing at the door.

" Ah ! has she come to . " " No, sir ; but we think we've found out who she is. Will you please to step this way ? " Scroils both looked and spoke mysteriously, and his master without further remark followed him back to the housekeeper's room. As he re-entered, Harriet greeted him quietly with : " It's Miss Mariana, sir. Look. Poor thing ! Poor thing ! " "What? Miss who?" " I should say Mrs. Freith, sir, begging your pardon." " Mrs. Freith ? Impossible — she dares not come here !" " It is, sir — see ! " Harriet held a candle to the unconscious face, from which she had sponged aw-ay the blood. The General drew near, and stood over the sofa, looking down at that face with a strange expression on his own of mingled surprise and sternness ; but no pity, at least no outward sign of pity, for the injured woman was in his austere gaze.

" It is Mariana ! " he murmured hoarsely. " What does this mean ! Why is she here ? " Neither Harriet nor Scroils spoke for a few minutes ; the former continuing in silence to dress the lacerated throat as best she could, whilst General Crutwell stood by, staring down at the still white face of the sufferer, with its strong contrast of raven-black eyebrows, lashes, and dishevelled hair. The features were strikingly like the General's — the same square forehead, straight-cut nose, and thin lips — features cast unmistakably in an identical mould. General Crutwell, glaring with hard, pitiless eyes upon the insensible form lying there, was a father looking upon his daughter — an angry, disappointed father on a wilful, prodigal child.

Chapter III. IX Dread Of Madness

Suddenly Harriet interrupted the dead silence, and, turning to her master, said : " Pray excuse me, sir, but you must send for the doctor." " I shall do nothing of the sort." The General's tone showed him to be far more resolute now in his refusal. " I'm only glad I didn't do so at first. Besides, there's not the least necessity." " There is, sir, begging your pardon." Harriet then, after slight demur, drew him apart and whispered something in his ear, which seemed to darken the expression in his face still more. He paused for a moment, then asked in a low tone " Are you sure ? " " Quite, sir." " Very well, then ; I suppose there's no help for it. Let- Nathan go for him. I'll tell him." General Crutwell turned his back on the sofa, and was making towards the door, when an exclamation from Harriet stopped him.

" Ah, sir, look ! She's coming round at last — thank heaven, she opens her eyes ! " "I'm glad of it — but I — I have no wish to see her. I refuse to speak to her." " Oh, sir ! " " And you can tell her so." " Oh, sir ! sir ! remember she's your daughter," pleaded Harriet, sobbing; "and maybe she's dying. Oh, poor young lady ! poor young lady ! " "There, there, my good woman, don't be childish." By nature Harriet was rather of the stern than tender order, but this sad sight touched her deeply. " Take every care of her," continued her master. "Dr. Rench shall come to her directly ; but I'll see him first." The last words the General muttered to himself and left the room again, apparently relentless as ever, for Violent things will sooner bear assuaging, Their fury being spent by its own shock, Than the stern, single, deep, and wordless ire Of a strong human heart, and in a sire.

It is a hard, although a common case, To find our children running restive — they In whom our brightest days we would retrace, Our little selves re-formed in finer clay: Just as old age is creeping on apace, And clouds come o'er the sunset of our day, They kindly leave us. Ere the hot July sun had risen high in the heavens next morning, Mariana Freith was a mother, a baby-girl having been hurried into the world before her time, not only through the terrible incident of the previous night, but from another and even more terrible cause, as yet to be revealed. Immediately on the arrival of the doctor during the small hours, General Crutwell had taken him aside and explained how the accident had arisen, adjuring him for certain private reasons, not particularised, to keep his own counsel on the matter.

The polite, though slightly sar castic, reply — that a respectable medical man knew better than to betray the confidences of his profession — was sufficiently reassuring. Dr. Rench pronounced Mariana to be in a critical state, not from the wounds inflicted by the dog, which he had duly cauterised, but from the violent shock to the system that had brought about the premature birth of the child. The injuries to the throat, he said, were severe but not necessarily dangerous, unless the dog was suffering from rabies. That this was not the case, the General felt quite certain, and was also convinced now that the deceased Tartar was alone responsible for those injuries — that Scroils' surmise was correct as to the young mastiff's attack and the wolf-hound's defence of his whilom mistress. The report on her precarious condition somewhat softened General Crutwell's heart towards his daughter, who, moreover, appealed to him in a pathetic message, through Harriet, to come and see her and her little child.

He hesitated, and at first declined, saying that it was better she should not be excited in her present state. But soon natural parental feelings prevailed ; and he feared that if he did not obey her summons now, he might never again behold her alive. He entered the partially darkened room, and approached the bed with soft, measured steps. Mariana did not hear him ; her eyes were closed as if in sleep, but ere long they opened at the faint cry of the babe lying at her breast, and then she saw him standing in silence by her side. " Oh, father, forgive me ! " The low pleading murmur reached his heart. Though hardened by the world, General Crutwell was not all stone. He bentdow-n, and gently pressed his lips to her forehead. Not a word escaped him, but Mariana wanted no more than this. She breathed a deep sigh of relief to know that she had made her peace with him whom she had so justly angered.

It was thus. Two years ago, a young medical man from Liverpool, named Waller Freith, purchased a practice in the neighbourhood, and took up his residence close to Gaunehester-Haugh. In course of time he met Mariana Crutwell, and fell in love with her ; and she, struck by his handsome face, eneouraged his addresses. But this she only dared to do clandestinely, being fully aware that her father would be furious at such folly, not to say bad taste, on her part ; for, with all his well-bred-looking face and polished manners, Waller Freith was nota gentleman, nor had he a good reputation with those who knew him — which reputa tion somehow followed him to shire, and handicapped him at starting in his new practice. General Crutwell, with others, held him under suspicion from the first, owing to the mysterious side-winds which reached them, and Mariana was accustomed to hear him spoken of in terms of doubt and disparagement.