CHAPTER XVI.

"Here is friendship,--mirth is here, Woodland music,--woodland cheer, And, with hope and blended fear, Here is love's delightful folly.

Summer gilds the smiling day, Summer clothes the tufted spray, Earth is green and heaven is gay, Wherefore should we not be jolly?"--_Heber._

The morning of the wished-for picnic day broke with a brilliance far exceeding the most sanguine expectation. On the previous evening angry clouds had attended the sun to his couch of rest; the distant thunder-boom had made many a bosom quail for the next day, and many an anxious eye had peeped forth in the early dawning half expecting to see the rain falling fast; they were agreeably surprised to find not a cloud obscured the sky, and a mist that hung o'er hill, woodland, and river betokened a fine, hot, if not sultry day was beginning. From an early hour all was bustle and excitement at the Towers; the Earl presided over the busy servants packing hampers of good things, and wines of the choicest flavour, and himself superintended everything, being here, there, and everywhere, and seeming to have a hundred pair of hands. When he gave a pleasure, he always liked to do it in style, and was determined nothing should be wanting to render the amus.e.m.e.nt of the day perfect. Many of the visitors a.s.sisted the Earl in his tasks, and Johnny hurraed loud when he saw the carts start for the festive scene, groaning under plenty of good cheer. About eleven o'clock the courtyard was full of carriages, coachmen held the reins, and grooms led many horses ready saddled for those who preferred riding. Many fair girls in light summer attire and hats, and many gentlemen, some equipped for driving, and others booted and spurred, filled the yard; laughter and jest made the old turreted towers ring again with glee. Carriage after carriage was filled, and drove off for the Peel; last of all the Earl's own coroneted barouche and four left for the gay scene; the carriage was an open one, but able to shut in case of rain, of which there appeared little likelihood. The Earl himself drove the four iron grays, adorned with blue ribbons on the nets which protected them from the flies. By the Earl sat Johnny in high feather, and inside were the Marquis and Marchioness, Lady Florence, and Ellen Ravensworth. Several equestrians rode by the carriage, chatting and laughing with the fair occupants, and now and then spurring on to catch up some other vehicle. Conspicuous among the hors.e.m.e.n were the Captain and Edward L'Estrange,--the former wore the same garb he had appeared in amongst the haymakers; the latter, instead of a white kerchief, wore a scarf of the finest Indian texture for a turban, and the crimson silk, figured with gold, showed off his dark countenance to perfection; they were both mounted on splendid animals, which they managed with all the grace and ease of finished hors.e.m.e.n.

"Let us take a short cut over the park; I know a by-road to the spot,"

said the Captain, turning his horse and putting him to the wooden wattling which he cleared with scarcely an effort, and quickened his pace into a gallop, followed closely by L'Estrange over the smooth gra.s.s. A ten minutes' freshener brought them to the by-path, and here they checked their panting coursers to a trot, and finally a walk, as they entered the road upon which they guided their horses whose blood was now up, and who impatiently paced along, snorting, tossing their heads, and champing the bits.

"So ho! gently, Terror, old boy, gently," said the Captain, patting the lithe arching neck of his beautiful black hunter, who snuffed the air through his thin transparent nostrils, and struck the ground as if burning for the chase, while his eye dilated and seemed to flash fire.

As if he understood his master, the n.o.ble Arab stepped out more calmly, and the Captain said, "Archy Forbes is a smart fellow, a very knowing fellow, by my soul, and will prove a great help. I have engaged him for my own particular servant, and sent my old man about his business."

"Do you not think we have too many in the plot?" remarked L'Estrange.

"No, I cannot say I do. There is Musgrave, as safe as wax, no fear of his betraying us. Old Forbes, my foster-father, would sooner hang than breathe a word, he is a dog that will not open cry falsely. There's Stacy, a gallows bird that will not tempt the light! Archy is as unapt to give out a secret as the rock is to unlock its waters. The only one I fear is Antonia, or Juana if you like; a woman's tongue is the unsafest keep going."

"I fear not Juana," replied L'Estrange; "a whisper from her would cut her own throat."

"It might, indeed, were she rash enough to inculpate me," said the Captain, with a cruel laugh. "We must push on, Ned, or some of these carriages will overhaul us before I have seen old Stacy."

So saying he spurred his horse, nothing loth, into a hand gallop, and the two intriguers rode side by side up the rising road, on either bank of which rose dark pines, which had scattered their sprays on the pathway, and made a soft yet firm footing for the horses. It was going on for noon, but the sun could not pierce the dense fir woods, save here and there where his ray formed a bright line across the road. The air was still sultry in the extreme, and not a breath of wind was stirring.

Squirrels and rabbits, scared by the approaching riders, from time to time crossed the road, and the wood pigeons, alarmed by the clatter, flew off, flapping their wings loudly. As the two officers rode side by side--dressed almost alike as they were--the resemblance found out by their fellow-comrades in arms was all the more striking. The same military seat and air--the same bronzed complexions and arched noses--the same dark hair and moustache; there was yet a distinctive difference: L'Estrange was still more sunburnt and swarthy in look, probably from his having served in India, as well as his early life spent in the tropics, yet there was a softer expression, a milder air about his face than was to be found in the Captain's, whose eyes, more dark and unrelenting, stood avenged against his friend's, rather soft than fiery.

But if in feature they resembled each other, in character they were as different as light from darkness. Captain de Vere was a bold, fearless man, whose boast was he neither feared G.o.d nor regarded his fellow-creatures; in his affections light, in his pa.s.sions headstrong, he loved no one but himself, nor cared how he hurt another's feelings provided he pleasured his own. If he took offence he was a terrible foe--implacable, vindictive, and unforgiving. L'Estrange was brave, without being the same fearless, dare-devil man the Captain was; naturally inclined to be devotional and benevolent, it was his misfortune, rather than his fault, to see and approve the better, while he followed the worse; by nature also full of affection, he more deeply felt rejected love, and yet was generally able to have full mastery over his pa.s.sions, and hold them under his control. He was neither selfish nor unforgiving in character, and it was an evil day that he linked himself with the Captain, who, being of a far stronger character, naturally led L'Estrange, more weak and vacillating, into all sorts of evil he would never have fallen into if left to himself. Some men are wicked by nature, such was the Captain--others are wicked by evil example and misfortune, such was L'Estrange.

Half an hour's gallop brought the friends to their journey's end.

Cessford's Peel, or Castle, was an old watch tower, once strongly fortified, and still in excellent repair. Built at the bottom of a dark glen, through which foamed a mountain burn, its gray crest just peeped above the woods; the keep was covered with ivy, amid which numbers of jackdaws had built their nests. The Peel was built close to the march of the Earl's estates; a cross-road led from its doorway to the high-road, which ran along the top of the dell. The tower had an ill reputation, having been the scene of some terrible murder in olden times, and the popular belief was it was haunted by the spirit of the sufferer. In front was a large open lawn, surrounded by woods on all sides, and sloping down to the torrent. Beneath the shadow of the trees to the right was a huge stone, perhaps ten feet in diameter, and round as Arthur's table; its top was as level as the nether millstone, and was covered with moss. On this verdant table it was proposed to spread the banquet. Indeed, if it had been created on purpose, a better place for a picnic could hardly be found: the turreted castle, with its woods and hills around, formed a landscape on which the eye delighted to rest,--the level stone for a table,--the green gra.s.s for a dancing-board,--the burn for a well to cool the wines;--while the hum of bees, the carol of wood warblers, and distant murmur of falling waters made music to the ear.

On a broken-down d.y.k.e sat an old man in seaman's dress, smoking his pipe in the sunshine, and apparently little caring for the prospect around.

The young officers, when they reached this delightful spot, dismounted, and taking off the saddles and bridles from their horses tethered them to a stone beneath the shadow of the trees, and left them to pasture there at their pleasure. Having seen their steeds well cared for, their next action was to cross the meadow and address the old man.

"What fool's errand is this? The foul fiend take your merry makings."

"How now, old drudge--dare you blaspheme?" said the Captain; "nevertheless, I hate your picnics, and you may be sure had no hand in this."

"Could you not have steered elsewhere? is there not sea-room enough without tacking here with your mummeries?"

"What the devil had I to do with it? However, you will see laughing, and dancing, and merriment enough to make the fiends howl. Is Antonia to do what I asked?"

"Yees," answered Bill Stacy, for he it was; "but devil take it, if there ain't one of their confounded craft come already, and I must sheer off."

"Like fun; be earthed, you old fox!"

With an angry growl the old man disappeared over the wall, and cursing the folly that compelled him to do so--for naturally Bill's heart anything but revived, at the sight of the waggons--stowed himself away in one of the deep dungeons, while our friends stepped forward to meet the newly-arrived guests, who proved to be Mr. Lennox and his daughter, rather a dashing, spirited girl of seventeen. They were accompanied by Sir Richard and young Scroop.

"Who was that remarkable looking individual you were addressing?" asked Mr. Lennox of the Captain.

"G.o.d only knows; some old tramp, I suppose, whom I sent about his business," replied the Captain, inwardly cursing Mr. Lennox for a prying fool, and meddler in what did not concern him.

"He looked so mysterious, and vanished so remarkably, I really fancied you knew more about him."

"What in the devil's name could I know about the old villain--a miscreant I never before saw in my life?" scornfully answered the Captain, and then in a side voice whispered to Sir Richard--"I wish to G.o.d the conceited c.o.xcomb had not seen us--these inquisitorial blockheads never know when to hold their tongue."

Meanwhile all the party had arrived, and whilst old Andrew and a dozen men laid out a magnificent cold repast on the natural table, which they covered with several damask cloths, the guests, in parties of two and three, commenced exploring the dell and woods, till a blast blown by Wilton summoned the stragglers together. It was about two when all was prepared, and a merry party of nearly thirty sat down to their feast; some on stones which were scattered around the monster table, and some on shawls and plaids. All the usual accompaniments of a picnic were present--the clatter of knives and forks, the popping of champagne bottle corks, the laughter, wit, and prompt repartee, the thousand pretty compliments to the fair s.e.x, and now and then the cry of some girl as a wasp or bee disputed possession of her platter. All went off with the greatest glee and good-temper. At the head of the rocky table presided the Earl, with his sister the Marchioness and Ellen on either side. Johnny, seated next to Lady Florence, kept up perpetual merriment with her, and Mr. Lennox had insinuated himself between two dukes, one of whom was his cousin, as he informed every one, and felt in the seventh heaven of pride and happiness. All the others sat around, whilst on the top of the Duke of Buccleuch's drag might be seen the Captain, Lord Arranmore, Scroop, Sir Richard Musgrave, L'Estrange, and a few others who preferred their own company, and drank champagne from tumblers. When the a.s.semblage had broken up and the greater part of the company disappeared in the woods, these worthies might still be seen _en haut_ in high glee.

"You look very comfortable up there," said Lady Florence, who pa.s.sed below with one of the Ladies Scott and another young lady. "I think some of you might have the gallantry to chaperone us over the haunted tower, we do not dare to go alone."

"D--t--n!" cried the Captain, aside to L'Estrange, "who the deuce would have thought of that? This grows worse and worse."

"I can go, and avoid the dungeons."

"No, I will; it will be easy to frighten these simpletons so much they will not tempt the lower regions," said the Captain, in a low voice, and then aloud, "I am your man; I will come and guard you against the ghosts, Floss, and the murdered old dame: Musgrave and L'Estrange, come along, there's a beau apiece for you."

"Dear me, wonders will never cease!" said Lady Florence, laughing, "when you shelter young ladies, John."

Leading the way, the Captain strode towards the doorway, whilst L'Estrange and Musgrave filled the girls' heads with nonsense, and exaggerated tales of horror, mystery, and deeds of blood done in the dark dungeons. The Peel was an old, antiquated-looking square tower, and the rooms were lofty, with thin cross-shaped windows, which let in the least possible light; the walls were hung with tapestry, behind which were many secret doors. Ascending the irregular stone staircase, the party, increased by several new members, began a close scrutiny of all the chambers, and rummaged everywhere,--looking into every dark pa.s.sage, but getting more and more alarmed, to the Captain's great delight, who magnified every sound made by the rats, which frequented the tower in swarms, into the footsteps of bogles and goblins, and so worked on the terrors of the ladies, that none had the hardihood to descend to the dungeons, in one of which was hidden old Stacy. This being given up, by universal consent they left the tower, and once more emerged on the green gra.s.s. They found all the servants busily engaged devouring the remains of the feast, like "filthy jackalls," as the Captain remarked, "devouring the relics of the lions' repast." They then all commenced roaming the woods, and the Captain and L'Estrange soon managed to give them the slip, leaving Musgrave to take care of the ladies.

Whilst this party was busy searching the tower, the rest of the company had proceeded, in parties of two and three, to the cool retreats of the woods. The Earl, accompanied by his sister the Marchioness, and Ellen, began rambling up the burn, along a rough footpath, in order to show Ellen a waterfall at the top of the wood. Before they had proceeded far they were met by the Marquis, with whom Lady Edith walked another way, leaving the lovers alone. Taking Ellen's hand, the Earl helped her to climb the path, rough with the roots of fir trees protruding from the soil, and exceedingly steep. As they got still higher the acclivity became more and more perpendicular, and the stones they loosened from the hill side went thundering down below, crashing among the trees, till they at last plunged into the brown waters. It was hot work as well as arduous, and often they paused to rest on the fallen trees that now and then lay across the pathway. Their footsteps on the withered fir branches that strewed the ground, often started the denizens of the wood,--the weasel, the rabbit, and the timid hare, that fled past them like a shadow, stopped a moment, with ears erect, and then started off again; and the wild pigeons, or cushats, as they are called in Scotland, flew off their nests with a loud noise, as if one clapped his hands together. As they neared the summit of the wood, the fall of the water became more and more distinct, and soon they emerged from the dark trees into sunshine and open air, and beheld the cascade they had so long heard. The top of the wood opened on a rushy dell, surrounded on either side by a half circle of high banks, on which blossomed the whin and flowering broom. In front rose high rocks, over which raved and foamed the black moss waters, lashed into foam by their descent; the troubled waves then found a way through the centre of the dell, and were almost hidden by reeds and bracken,--or, as the English call it, fern. Beneath the cascade, on either side, grew several nut trees, and as the sun shone brightly, their light green stood out boldly relieved against the black rocks behind; through these trees were caught glimpses of the flashing waters as they heaped themselves into a dark lynn that eddied below. Countless insects,--dragon flies, azure wings, fritillaries, and other b.u.t.terflies sported in the sunshine over the rushes, and from them the dell took its name of "b.u.t.terfly Dell." Half hid by the waterfall in the sides of the rock, a large dark hollow was just visible, over which danced the iris painted by the sunshine on the silvery spray,--now faint and dimly distinguishable, now radiant and bright as the bow in the day of rain. A few steps, rudely cut in the naked rock, led to the cavern, towards which the lovers directed their steps. The Earl guided his fair companion's footsteps up the rough stairs, a.s.sisting her with his arm, and in another moment they were both inside the cool retreat. The air of this grot was extremely pleasant after their hot climb; and, when their eyes became accustomed to the dim light, they perceived a rootwork seat placed against the further end of the cave which extended but a short way into the rocks. From the roof of this cell dripped some fine stalact.i.tes; and through the circular entrance they had a view of the dell bathed in sunshine. The burn looked like a streak of silver thread winding its way among the green rushes, and the trees rose dark behind; now and then a light wind blew the vapoury mist of the fall past the cave's entrance, and for a moment everything was lightly obscured. The Earl and his fair partner sat down on the seat, and for some minutes enjoyed the sweet scene in silence. We must, however, reserve their conversation for another chapter, as this has already exceeded its bounds.

CHAPTER XVII.

"And plead in beauty's ear, nor plead in vain."

_Pleasures of Hope._

"Thy heart is sad--thy home is far away."--_Ibid._

"Years have flown by," said the Earl, "since I saw this dell. When my feet last roamed here I was a careless boy, rambling the woods gun in hand, or, with my brothers and sisters around chasing the b.u.t.terfly over hill and dale. It was with my eldest sister, now in heaven, that I last tracked the stream; it was with her by my side I last sat on this very seat. All seems unchanged,--all is as bright and fair as it was that day, except the two roamers: one is gone, and the spot brings bitter as well as blissful a.s.sociations to the other."

"I knew not you ever had another sister," said Ellen; "is it long since she died?"

"More than ten years ago; but still I remember her words as if she had said them yesterday. Oh, what a fine, handsome creature she was! and good as well as fair; she was older than me by three years. This was her favourite haunt; it was she who gave it the name of 'b.u.t.terfly Dell;'

all her thoughts were bright! It was on such another day as this we last sat together: she was unusually grave that day,--almost melancholy. 'I have a strange presentiment, Clarence,' she said, 'that I have not long to live:--you know all De Veres die young. I often think heaven will be like this,--only there the flowers will be brighter, and will not fade; the leaf will not turn sere, and there will be no sorrow, no pain.

Clarence, I shall soon be there!' 'Say not so,' I answered, 'you are too young to die yet; stay with us,--do not leave us; why should you think you will die?' 'Clarence, the thought troubles me not; I am happy here, but I shall be still happier there!

"I hear a voice you cannot hear, which says I must not stay; I see a hand you cannot see, which beckons me away."

I shall soon be there!'--pointing to the blue sky, 'and roaming in fairer scenes than this, with the holy angels for companions. Clarence, you must come there too!' 'Augusta, do not, I entreat you do not; you are made to shine in this world yet,--to be a star of fashion and beauty,' I exclaimed. 'No, I shall be a star there,--I do not wish to shine here. This world, darling, is fleeting and vain, and its pleasures unsatisfying. I have learned to love a better world, which is fixed, eternal, unchangeable,--whose pleasures are real and substantial.

Clarence, you must be good, and meet me there! There I shall meet little Arthur, and see his pretty face again: and we will watch for you!' She said more, much more than I can remember, and which I wish I thought of oftener. Oh! Ellen, I seem to hear her yet! When we reached home, a sad--sad scene awaited us; my father, the Earl, had been borne home lifeless. Riding across country, and being a bold, fearless equestrian, he had put his horse to a fence too high for it; the animal refused the leap; my father reined it back, and then, riding forward, showed it, by spur and whip, that it must take it. The horse rose, but not high enough,--my father helped it by lifting its head: it was vain!--horse and horseman fell heavily; the horse soon rose,--not so its rider, who still detained the steed by the bridle, clenched in the hand of the dead. There he was found by Wilton, and borne home by four foresters. I shall never forget Augusta's grief,--it was long, bitter, unavailing. My mother was then in England; and I, now an Earl, strove to conceal my own sorrow, and soothe Augusta's; but she refused to be comforted, and took to her bed with a fever, brought on by excessive sorrow. Her presentiment was too sadly true; and within a week she was laid side by side with her father in the old family vault, in the west tower. Since then I have grown a man, and mingled in the world; but, if deadened by time, my sorrow is still quick in my breast, and the dying words of my sister ring distinct and clear in my ears!"

"How sad! No wonder your feelings are melancholy," said Ellen. "But you spoke of another of your family: was Arthur your brother,--and is he, too, dead?"

"He was my brother," said the Earl, "but his fate is wrapt in mystery."