Henry. "Well," said I, "sit there, and leave all to me." And taking a candle in my hand, I set forth out of the room in the dark house. There was no movement; I must suppose that all had gone unobserved; and I was now to consider how to smuggle through the rest with the like secrecy. It was no hour for scruples; and Iopened my lady's door without so much as a knock, and passed boldly in.
"There is some calamity happened," she cried, sitting up in bed.
"Madam," said I, "I will go forth again into the passage; and do you get as quickly as you can into your clothes. There is much to be done."She troubled me with no questions, nor did she keep me waiting.
Ere I had time to prepare a word of that which I must say to her, she was on the threshold signing me to enter.
"Madam," said I, "if you cannot be very brave, I must go elsewhere;for if no one helps me to-night, there is an end of the house of Durrisdeer.""I am very courageous," said she; and she looked at me with a sort of smile, very painful to see, but very brave too.
"It has come to a duel," said I.
"A duel?" she repeated. "A duel! Henry and - ""And the Master," said I. "Things have been borne so long, things of which you know nothing, which you would not believe if I should tell. But to-night it went too far, and when he insulted you - ""Stop," said she. "He? Who?"
"Oh! madam," cried I, my bitterness breaking forth, "do you ask me such a question? Indeed, then, I may go elsewhere for help; there is none here!""I do not know in what I have offended you," said she. "Forgive me; put me out of this suspense."But I dared not tell her yet; I felt not sure of her; and at the doubt, and under the sense of impotence it brought with it, Iturned on the poor woman with something near to anger.
"Madam," said I, "we are speaking of two men: one of them insulted you, and you ask me which. I will help you to the answer. With one of these men you have spent all your hours: has the other reproached you? To one you have been always kind; to the other, as God sees me and judges between us two, I think not always: has his love ever failed you? To-night one of these two men told the other, in my hearing - the hearing of a hired stranger, - that you were in love with him. Before I say one word, you shall answer your own question: Which was it? Nay, madam, you shall answer me another: If it has come to this dreadful end, whose fault is it?"She stared at me like one dazzled. "Good God!" she said once, in a kind of bursting exclamation; and then a second time in a whisper to herself: "Great God! - In the name of mercy, Mackellar, what is wrong?" she cried. "I am made up; I can hear all.""You are not fit to hear," said I. "Whatever it was, you shall say first it was your fault.""Oh!" she cried, with a gesture of wringing her hands, "this man will drive me mad! Can you not put me out of your thoughts?""I think not once of you," I cried. "I think of none but my dear unhappy master.""Ah!" she cried, with her hand to her heart, "is Henry dead?""Lower your voice," said I. "The other."
I saw her sway like something stricken by the wind; and I know not whether in cowardice or misery, turned aside and looked upon the floor. "These are dreadful tidings," said I at length, when her silence began to put me in some fear; "and you and I behove to be the more bold if the house is to be saved." Still she answered nothing. "There is Miss Katharine, besides," I added: "unless we bring this matter through, her inheritance is like to be of shame."I do not know if it was the thought of her child or the naked word shame, that gave her deliverance; at least, I had no sooner spoken than a sound passed her lips, the like of it I never heard; it was as though she had lain buried under a hill and sought to move that burthen. And the next moment she had found a sort of voice.
"It was a fight," she whispered. "It was not - " and she paused upon the word.
"It was a fair fight on my dear master's part," said I. "As for the other, he was slain in the very act of a foul stroke.""Not now!" she cried.
"Madam," said I, "hatred of that man glows in my bosom like a burning fire; ay, even now he is dead. God knows, I would have stopped the fighting, had I dared. It is my shame I did not. But when I saw him fall, if I could have spared one thought from pitying of my master, it had been to exult in that deliverance."I do not know if she marked; but her next words were, "My lord?""That shall be my part," said I.
"You will not speak to him as you have to me?" she asked.
"Madam," said I, "have you not some one else to think of? Leave my lord to me.""Some one else?" she repeated.
"Your husband," said I. She looked at me with a countenance illegible. "Are you going to turn your back on him?" I asked.
Still she looked at me; then her hand went to her heart again.
"No," said she.
"God bless you for that word!" I said. "Go to him now, where he sits in the hall; speak to him - it matters not what you say; give him your hand; say, 'I know all;' - if God gives you grace enough, say, 'Forgive me.'""God strengthen you, and make you merciful," said she. "I will go to my husband.""Let me light you there," said I, taking up the candle.
"I will find my way in the dark," she said, with a shudder, and Ithink the shudder was at me.
So we separated - she down stairs to where a little light glimmered in the hall-door, I along the passage to my lord's room. It seems hard to say why, but I could not burst in on the old man as I could on the young woman; with whatever reluctance, I must knock. But his old slumbers were light, or perhaps he slept not; and at the first summons I was bidden enter.
He, too, sat up in bed; very aged and bloodless he looked; and whereas he had a certain largeness of appearance when dressed for daylight, he now seemed frail and little, and his face (the wig being laid aside) not bigger than a child's. This daunted me; nor less, the haggard surmise of misfortune in his eye. Yet his voice was even peaceful as he inquired my errand. I set my candle down upon a chair, leaned on the bed-foot, and looked at him.
