Chetwynd Calverley. Ainsworth William HarrisonЧитать онлайн книгу.
without effect. The shot rattled over the head of the fugitive, but did him no harm. Clynch quickly overtook his comrade; and, as soon as the ground became clear of underwood, they speeded off towards the morass.
XV. THE DEERHOUNDS
He had sent off Ned Rushton with the bloodhound to unkennel the gipsies; but would not allow the other hounds to be unleashed.
However, when he heard the shouts, and caught sight of the fugitives, one of them with a bloodstained knife in his hand, running towards the morass, he shouted to Booth to loose the dogs, and, cheering them on, started in pursuit.
The deerhounds quite understood their business, and rushed after the gipsies at a tremendous pace, followed by Sir Leycester, who vainly endeavoured to keep up with them.
Marple, Booth, and the two grooms likewise joined in the exciting chase.
After a good run, Ekiel dropped; and as the hounds had to be pulled away from him, the incident caused a short delay, that enabled Clynch to reach the morass.
There was for no time hesitation, so he took the first path that offered – a narrow footway that seemed to lead towards the middle of the bog.
He soon found he had made a bad choice, for the path grew narrower, and the ground became soft.
But the deerhounds were after him, and behind them came Sir Leycester, who had ventured to ride along the pathway, in spite of the warning shouts of Marple and the others.
Clynch ran on a little further, and then stood at bay, preparing to defend himself against the deerhounds with the cuchillo, which he had never relinquished.
At this juncture, Sir Leycester’s horse missed his footing, and slipped into the bog, and in the effort to recover himself, threw his rider over his head, completely engulfing him.
Cries of consternation arose from all who witnessed the accident; but they could render no assistance.
Marple, who had all along been apprehensive of disaster, flung himself from his horse, and hurried to the spot; but only to find that the unfortunate baronet had disappeared.
“Call off these dogs, and I’ll help you to get him out!” shouted Clynch.
In the hope of saving the baronet’s life, Marple complied; and as soon as he was safe from attack, the gipsy flung away the knife, and, setting to work, did his best.
But his help was of no avail. The horse was got out; but Sir Leycester had sunk, and could not be found.
Plenty of other assistance soon arrived. Booth, the coachman; Ned Rushton, the keeper; the turf-cutters – all were there.
But though every effort was made, and every available appliance used, more than an hour elapsed before the body could be recovered.
It was then conveyed to the Hall – Marple having gone on before, to break the sad intelligence to Lady Barfleur.
BOOK THE SECOND – THE HEIRESS OF BRACKLEY HALL
I. THE LAST OF THE OLD CHESHIRE SQUIRES
A terrible sensation was caused at Brackley Hall when tidings were brought there of the fatal accident that had befallen its owner. Sir Leycester had been an excellent master, and was beloved by all his household, and their regrets for his loss were heartfelt.
Lady Barfleur was completely stunned by the shock. Marple endeavoured to break the sad intelligence to her gradually; but his countenance and accents betrayed him.
Rising from the sofa on which she was seated, she seized him by the arm, and commanded him to tell her the truth.
Thus interrogated, he felt compelled to give a direct reply. But he regretted doing so, when he saw the effect his words produced upon her. She looked aghast, placed her hand on her heart, and, then, with a half-stifled cry, sank upon the sofa.
Marple had taken the precaution to station a female servant at the door; and he now summoned her to her mistress. Lady Barfleur had fainted.
Emmeline did not hear of the direful event till she returned from the lake; and she then instantly bethought her of the death-warning she had received. She managed to restrain her emotions till she reached her own room, whither she was accompanied by Mildred, who was almost equally shocked, and then gave way to a paroxysm of grief.
Mrs. Calverley was likewise much distressed. She could not help reproaching herself as being, in some degree, the cause of the accident; though she had endeavoured to dissuade the unfortunate baronet from pursuing the gipsies.
Feeling certain, under the present afflicting circumstances, that Emmeline would not be willing to part with Mildred, she settled in her own mind that the latter should remain with her friend for a few days. Moreover, she herself would spend the night at Brackley, if she could be of any use to Lady Barfleur. Such were her mental resolves.
Hitherto, she had remained in the garden. She now went into the house. It was all in confusion, the servants appearing quite scared. There was no one to whom she could speak, for Captain Danvers had gone off to the marsh.
The drawing-room was deserted. Nothing was changed there. But how different the noble room looked in her eyes from what it had done in the morning! Its splendour seemed dimmed. The great emblazoned shield over the mantelpiece looked like a hatchment.
After gazing round for a few minutes, she sat down. Melancholy thoughts intruded upon her. Perhaps, even feelings of remorse assailed her. But we shall not search her bosom. She began to feel some disquietude at being left so long alone, and wondered why Mildred did not come down to her. Possibly, she could not leave Emmeline.
Suddenly, her attention was roused by a disturbance in the entrance-hall, that seemed to betoken an arrival.
What it was she could not fail to conjecture.
Trampling of feet, as if caused by men bearing a heavy burden, and muttered voices, were heard. Then followed other sounds, almost equally significant, the opening and shutting of doors, and the congregating of servants in the hall.
She waited for some minutes, in the expectation of being summoned, but as no one came near her, she went forth.
The hall was empty, but the dining-room door stood open, and at it was stationed the butler.
The man had a very sorrowful countenance indeed. He bowed gravely as she approached, and motioned her to enter the room.
A very touching spectacle was presented to her gaze.
On a large carved oak table, covered with a crimson cloth, and placed in the centre of the apartment, was laid the body of the unfortunate baronet.
It was partially covered by a cloak; and the stains from the swamp in which he had been engulfed had been carefully removed from his face and grey locks. Strange to say, his features were not changed, but seemed to wear their customary kindly expression.
Around were grouped the different members of the household, all of whom looked deeply afflicted, and some of the female servants were weeping bitterly.
On one side stood Ned Eushton, with two of his helpers, behind him. Rarely did Ned’s manly visage exhibit such grief as it wore on this sad occasion. After gazing steadfastly at his late kind-hearted master for some minutes, he cast down his eyes, and did not raise them again till the moment of departure.
On the other side stood Marple, who, though burly of frame, was as soft-hearted as a woman. He deeply lamented Sir Leycester, and well he might, for the baronet had ever been a good friend to him.
At the end of the apartment stood Captain Danvers, a quiet but not unmoved spectator of the scene. If his grief made little outward show, it was not the less deep and sincere. He was strongly attached to his uncle, from whom, indeed, he had some expectations, that might never now be realised.
But the principal figures in this touching picture have yet to be described.
Emmeline and Mildred were kneeling down in prayer, at the back, when Lady Barfleur entered the room. She had