Part 34

But strange as it may seem, after the people had been gone for some considerable time in hot search of the felon, Lewis Grant himself rode slowly up to the priest's house. For some reason which he best knew, he came by a road quite different from that which should have brought him directly from Auchernach. He seemed gloomy and thoughtful--his head hung down--and as he walked his horse up to the stable and dismounted, as he was often wont to do, to put the beast with his own hand into the stall with which it was sufficiently familiar, his eyes glanced furtively in all directions from under the broad bonnet that shaded his brow. Having disposed of the animal, he shut the stable door, and, with a downcast look and chastened step, very much unlike that which had usually carried him over the same fragment of ground, and with a sigh that almost amounted to a groan, he presented himself at the little portal of the house. With a hesitating hand he lifted the latch, and with his limbs trembling beneath him, he moved softly along the passage that led to the priest's parlour. He halted for a moment irresolutely at the door of that little chamber where he had passed so many happy days and hours. At last he summoned up courage enough to open it, and he stood on its threshold with his eyes thrown upon the ground. Silence prevailed within, till it was broken by a deep convulsive sob. He looked up, and he beheld old Janet, with her back towards him, kneeling beside a low couch placed against the opposite wall; and upon its pillow, and stretched out at length upon it in a state which left him in doubt whether she was dying, or already dead, lay the grief-worn countenance and the form of Helen Dunbar. He was struck dumb by this spectacle. He stood amazed, with the blood running cold to his heart. But recollection soon returned to him--his whole frame shook with the agitation of his feelings, and, clasping his hands in an agony, he rushed forward and threw himself on his knees before the couch. The humble domestic was terrified to behold him, and started aloof at the very sight of him.

"Helen!--my life!--my love!" cried he in a frantic tone; "can I--can I, wretch that I am--can I, murderer that I am!--can I have brought death upon my beloved! Oh, answer me!--gaze not thus silently upon me with that fearful look! Am I then become in thy sight so accursed? Oh, mercy!--mercy!--look not so upon me!"

He tried to take her hand. His very attempt to do so seemed instantaneously to rouse her from the stupor in which she had hitherto lain. She recoiled from him back to the wall as if a serpent had stung her, whilst her fixed eyes stared, and her lips moved without sound, as if she could find no utterance for the horrors that possessed her.

"Is there no mercy for me?" cried Auchernach again. "Hast thou doomed me to destruction? Am I to be spurned by thee as I was by thine uncle Priest Innes?"

A prolonged and piercing shriek was all the reply that his frantic appeal received from Helen Dunbar. It was echoed by her old attendant, and mingled with loud cries for help. Steps were heard pattering fast without--Auchernach started up to his feet. The steps came hurrying along the passage--several men burst into the chamber--they stood for a moment in mute astonishment. Then it was that Helen Dunbar seemed to regain all her dormant energies. She sprang from the couch--retreated from Auchernach--and gazing fearfully at him, with, her head and body drawn back, she pointed wildly towards him, with both her outstretched arms and hands--and whilst every nerve was convulsed by the torture which her soul was enduring, she at last found words to speak.

"Seize him! Seize the murderer of mine uncle!" she cried in a voice which rang shrilly and terribly in the ears of all who heard her; and altogether exhausted by this extraordinary effort, she would have fallen forward senseless on the floor, had she not been caught by some of the bystanders, who carried her in a swoon to the couch from which she had so recently risen.

Auchernach stood fixed and frozen, as if her words had suddenly converted him into a pillar of ice. He was immediately laid hold of by some of the men, who hastily bound him, and he submitted to be led away, as if utterly unaware of what had befallen him. His horse was taken from the stable; he was lifted powerless into the saddle, and strapped firmly to the animal's back. The crowd of people who had collected, some on horseback, and some on foot, looked upon him with horror, mingled with awe. But no one uttered a word, either of pity or of condemnation. He sat erect, it is true, but it was with all the rigidity of a stiffened corpse, for not a feature nor a muscle exhibited the smallest sign of consciousness. That night found him, after a wearisome journey, of the scenes or events of which he had no knowledge, chained, on a heap of straw, on the floor of one of the deepest dungeon-vaults in the Priory of Pluscarden.

The simple and unpretending funeral of the good Priest Innes had a larger following than that of any person who had been buried from that district for many years, and the silent sorrow which was exhibited by all who beheld it, was not only more sincere, but it was likewise far more eloquent than those louder lamentations, and those otherwise more obtrusive expressions of woe which had arisen around the bier of many a departed knight and laird of Strathspey. His corpse was carried the same road as they had taken the wretched man who stood charged with his murder. It was met at some distance from the Priory by its monks and their superior, who accompanied the procession, chanting hymns before the coffin, till it was carried into the church. There the services were performed for the dead, and he was laid to rest in his last narrow house, within the cemetery of that religious establishment, where the requiem masses that were sung for his soul went faintly, and with anything but consolation, to the ears of the wretched Auchernach in his subterranean prison.

Most of the gentry of the neighbouring country were present at these obsequies, and John Dhu Grant was there amongst others. It was especially remarked, that although his house of Knockando lay directly in the way between Easter Duthel and the Priory, and about equidistant from the two places, his desire to show respect to the memory of the deceased was so great that he appeared at the priest's house early on the morning of the funeral, and rode with the procession all the way to the place of interment. He, moreover, took a very prominent part in the whole ceremonial. From these pregnant signs the good people naturally argued that there had been a gross mistake in the belief that had hitherto so currently prevailed as to which of the rival lairds had been really most favoured by Helen Dunbar and her uncle; and the wiser gossips now shook their heads, and looked forward to the time when John Dhu Grant would probably dry up the orphan's tears, and establish her in the arm-chair at the comfortable fireside of Knockando. The laird himself never did nor said anything which might have contradicted any such supposition; on the contrary, he always spoke and acted as if it was tolerably well-founded.

A good many days passed away after the loss of her uncle, before the tide of Helen's grief had gushed from her eyes in sufficient abundance to afford any relief to her deep affliction. Many were the kind hearts that came to condole with her, but some of her more intimate friends of her own sex only had as yet been admitted to her presence to share her sorrows. John Dhu Grant had made repeated journeys to call at the house, but his urgent entreaties for admission had been always met by courteous refusals. He came at length one day, and as he stated that he was the bearer of an especial message from the Lord Prior of Pluscarden, Helen could no longer decline giving him an audience. She received him, however, not only in the presence of old Janet, whose long services in the priest's house had given her most of the privileges and indulgences of an old friend, but also in that of an elderly matron, who had kindly agreed to spend some time with her to cheer her loneliness. You will not be surprised when I tell you that Helen was deeply affected and much agitated when the laird entered. After she was somewhat composed, and the first preliminary civilities were interchanged,--

"I come, lady, from the Lord Prior of Pluscarden," said Knockando, "and I am the bearer of a message to know, with all due respect and godly greeting, on his part, whether thou art as yet sufficiently restored to be able to undertake a journey to the Priory, that thou mayest give evidence against him who now lieth in a dungeon there, charged with the crime of the most sacrilegious murder of thine uncle, Priest Innes?"

"I beseech thee, sir," said Helen, much affected, and with a trembling and scarcely audible voice, "I beseech thee to tell the reverend father, that I do, with all humility, abide his command, and that when he shall see fit to demand my presence, I shall be ready to obey."

"I doubt not that thou art by this time most eager to see vengeance fall speedily upon the foul murderer," said Knockando.

"Alas! no vengeance can restore him to me whom I have lost," said Helen, bursting into a flood of tears.

"But his blood crieth out for vengeance, and it lieth with thee to see it done upon the murderer," said Knockando.

"When the Lord Prior calleth for me, I shall speak the truth, and let vengeance rest with that Almighty Being who alone beheld the cruel deed!" said Helen, throwing her eyes upwards as if secretly appealing to Heaven. "As for me, I can but weep for him that is gone, and pray to have that Christian feeling supplied to me which may enable me to forgive even--to forgive even his murderer."

"Forgive his murderer!" cried Knockando, with a strange and wild expression. "Canst thou indeed think that thou mayest yet ever be brought to forgive him? But no! no! no!" continued he calmly, and with his usual cold manner and unmoved countenance, "it cannot surely be that thou couldst ever bring thyself to save the monster who could allow one passing word of just reproof to wipe out so many years of kind and hospitable intercourse, and who could revenge it by so barbarous and unheard of a murder."

"I said forgive, not save," replied Helen, in a half choked voice. "The laws of God and of man alike require that the murderer should die; and I shall never flinch from the dreadful but imperious duty which now devolves upon me, to see that justice is done upon the guilty person. But our blessed Saviour hath taught me to forgive even him; and ere he be called on to expiate his crime on earth, may the Holy Virgin yield me strength to pray sincerely for his repentance, so that his unhappy soul may be assoilzied from an eternity of torment."

"What!" cried Knockando, with a recurrence of that wildness of expression which he had already exhibited, "canst thou even contemplate so much as this regarding a wretch, who, lighting down like some nocturnal fiend upon the sacred person of thine uncle, and, reckless of the emblem of Christ which lay upon his bosom"----

"Ha!" exclaimed Helen, suddenly moved as the horrors of the spectacle she had witnessed were thus so rashly and so rudely recalled to her recollection by this ill-timed speech. "What saidst thou?"

"Nay," continued Knockando, "I wonder not that thou shouldst start thus, as I stir up thy remembrance of the bloody and most inhuman act. Methinks thou wilt hardly now deny me that the man who could put aside the holy image of Christ, that he might plunge his dirk into the innocent throat of his sacred servant, must not only die the death of a felon, but that he can never hope for mercy from Him whose blessed emblem he hath outraged."

"Give me air! give me air!" cried Helen faintly, as she motioned to her companions to open the lattice; and then falling back into the couch, she covered her face with both her hands, and was seized with a long hysterical fit of laughter, followed by a convulsive shudder, from which she was relieved by a deluge of tears.

"This is no scene for a stranger to witness," said the lady who sat with her, "nor is the subject which thou hast chosen to dwell on so circumstantially by any means suited to the weak state of this poor sufferer. I must entreat of thee to withdraw."

"Madam," said Knockando coolly, "I am no stranger. I am here as the messenger of the Lord Prior, and as the friend of the deceased. As that friend to whom the good Priest Innes did manifest his last most open act of confidence. I am here, as it were, by his posthumous authority, as the avenger of his foul murder, and as the protector of his desolate orphan niece; so that hardly even might the orders of the lady herself induce me to quit this apartment whilst my duty may tell me that I ought to remain."

"Thine arm, Janet," said Helen feebly; and, with the old woman's support, she slowly arose and moved towards the door.

"Stay, stay, I beseech thee, my beloved Helen!" cried Knockando, eagerly rising to follow her. "Stay, I entreat thee, or say at least when I may return to offer thee my protection, that legitimate protection which thine uncle authorised me to yield thee, that substantial protection which can alone be supplied by him who hath the rights and the affection of a husband."

"A husband!" cried Helen, turning suddenly round and gazing wildly at him,--"Husband!" and being again seized with the same involuntary laugh, she was hurried away up stairs to her chamber by the women.

Knockando then slowly left the apartment, called for his horse, and departed.

Helen Dunbar kept her bed all next day, and no one was admitted to her chamber but the lady I have mentioned, and her old and faithful Janet. With these she had long, deep, and private talk regarding all that had passed the previous day. On the ensuing morning the Laird of Knockando again came to the house. Janet was immediately despatched to refuse him admittance. He now came, he said, with a letter from the Lord Prior of Pluscarden, which he trusted would be a passport for him to the lady's presence. Leaving him below, Janet carried it up stairs to her mistress. It was tied with a piece of black silk ribbon, but it had no seal. It ran in these terms:--

"To Helen Dunbar, these,--It being our will and pleasure that the vengeance with the which it doth behoove us to visit Lewis Grant of Auchernach, the murderer of thine uncle, Priest Innes, shall no longer tarry, but descend quickly upon his guilty head, so that the air of our sacred precincts may cease to be poisoned by the foul breath of his life, we do now, by these presents, call upon thee to appear before us here on Tuesday next at noon, to give thy testimony against him. And as the way hither is long and lonely, we do further give thee our fatherly advice to avail thyself of the kind offer about to be made thee by the bearer of this, our friend, that worthy gentleman, John Grant of Knockando, who promises to shorten thy travel by lodging thee in his house on the previous night, and to guard thee hither. And so we greet thee with our holy blessing.

"Duncanus Prior. Plus."

Helen was much agitated by the perusal of this letter, but after a little consultation, her friend took it upon herself to go down to tell Knockando that the Prior's summons should be obeyed; but that the laird's offer of protection and hospitality were with all civility declined. After much vain solicitation on his part, Knockando left the house with great unwillingness.

He had not been gone an hour when the tramping of a horse again sounded in their ears.

"Holy Virgin!" exclaimed Janet, as she looked from the lattice to ascertain who this new visitor might be. "As I hope to be saved, it is the lay brother who rides on the Lord Prior's errands. What can he want, I wonder?"

Janet hastened down, and soon returned.

"He came the short way over the hills with it," said Janet, putting another letter into Helen's hands.

It bore the large seal of the priory over the black silk ribbon by which it was bound.

"What can this mean?" said Helen, as with trembling hands she applied the shears to divide the ribbon. "Again a letter from the Lord Prior! But, as I live, in a very different, fairer, and more clerk-like hand, and, methinks, in better terms."

"To our much afflicted and much beloved daughter Helen Dunbar--these:

"Deeply do we and all our brethren grieve for thy cruel affliction. By ourselves, or our sub-prior, we should have ere this visited thee with heavenly comfort, had not weighty affairs hindered. But deem not thyself desolate; for we do hold that our brother, thy much beloved and greatly lamented uncle, the umquhile Priest Innes (whom God assoilzie!) hath left thee to our guardianship, and, as a daughter of the Church, thou shalt be watched with our especial care. We have made it known to all, that, but further delay, we shall, God willing, proceed on Wednesday next, after the hour of tierce, to look earnestly into the mysterious case of the good priest's wicked and sacrilegious slaughter. We beseech thee, therefore, to do thy best, to render thyself at the priory on the forecoming day, that, assured of the best hospitality that we can provide for thee, thou mayest rest and prepare thee for the trial of the following morrow. Till then we commend thee to the care of God, the blessed Virgin, and Holy Saint Andrew; and with this, our consolatory benediction, we bid thee farewell.

"Duncanus, "Monach. Ordinis, Vallis Caulium, Plus. Prior."

"Haste thee, good Janet," said Helen Dunbar, after she had read the prior's letter; "haste thee, and see that the honest lay-brother and his beast be well looked to for this night."

Left to themselves, the ladies compared and canvassed the two letters, one of which was so evidently a forgery. They had little difficulty in determining which was the true one. After some consultation, Helen proceeded to pen a proper answer to that which she had last received; and having sent orders to old James to get his steed ready, she despatched him with it forthwith by that short route over the hills which the lay-brother had taken to bring the prior's letter to her. And a few lines of reply, which James brought her next day from the reverend father himself, assured her of the safe delivery of her communication.

During the interval which elapsed before the day on which she was to set out for Pluscarden, the Laird of Knockando made two more ineffectual attempts to gain admittance to Helen, and on both of these occasions he sent her urgent messages to come to his house on her way, and to allow him to be her escort on the journey. To these courteous but resolute refusals were given by the matron, who was then her companion, and on both occasions Knockando left the house with a degree of disappointment and mortification which he could not altogether conceal.

The day fixed for her journey at last arrived. Aware of the stern necessity that existed of arming herself with fortitude to undergo all that she had to encounter, she kneeled down, and fervently prayed to God and to the Virgin to aid and to support her. She arose with the conscious conviction that her prayers had been heard, and she met her friend with a quiet and composed countenance. As that lady and Janet were to be the companions of her journey, she calmly issued her directions for getting ready the animals which were destined to carry them. The table was already spread for their morning's meal, when suddenly a loud trampling of horses was heard, and ere they were aware, they saw through the casements that the house was surrounded by about a dozen of mounted men-at-arms. Before they had time to recover from their astonishment, their leader threw himself from his saddle, and entered the house and the apartment.

"Knockando!" cried the ladies in astonishment and alarm.

"Fear nothing," said John Dhu Grant, advancing and bowing with his usual imperturbable manner. "I have merely ridden up hither with a handful of brave fellows to guard thee. Ha!--what's this?" continued he, surveying the ample table which was liberally spread with trenchers, flagons, and drinking cups, and provisions of all kinds much beyond what the moderate wants of the two ladies could have required. "It was kind, indeed, to be thus hospitably prepared for our coming. But think not, I pray thee, of my fellows without there, for their hound-like stomachs are already provisioned for the day's toil. As for myself, indeed, I shall make bold to benefit by thy kindness to me, for I rarely eat at so early an hour as my spearmen do."

"John Grant of Knockando," said Helen Dunbar, drawing herself up with an effort to summon all her resolution, and speaking with great determination, "I lack not thine aid, and I reject it as insulting to me! And touching my hospitality, I tell thee that it is to be given solely to such as it may please me to bestow it upon--not taken, as thou wouldst have it, by a masterful hand. That board was never spread for thee, and thou shalt never partake of it with my good will!"

"These are strong and hard words, lady," said Knockando, coolly seating himself; "they are hard, yea, and sharp too--harder and sharper, methinks, than anything that I have unconsciously done to offend thee may well have merited. Hadst thou not better unsay them? if not with thy lips, at least by silently seating thyself here beside me, to do me the honours of the table."

"Again I tell thee, that table was never spread for thee!" said Helen firmly. "Begone, then! and leave, it untouched for me, and for such other guests as I may judge to be most fit to seat themselves there."

"Tush, tush, lady!" said Knockando frigidly. "The good old Priest Innes never meant that this table should be spread for thee without my sitting at it with thee. That very last night we passed together, the worthy man told me that he should leave thee to me as a legacy together with all his little means. So, lady, I have e'en come to claim thee, and I have brought these rough but staunch spearmen with me, that we may guard thee safely to Knockando as we would a treasure. There a priest waits to make thee even yet more securely mine own. After which we shall ride together, if it shall so please, thee, to Pluscarden, that we may draw down the blessing of holy mother Church upon our union, by seeing condign punishment swiftly done on the murderer who now lieth there. Come, lady! break thy fast, I pray thee, with what haste thou mayest, for thy palfrey waits by this time. Ha! what stir is that among my people?"

"Thanks! thanks to Heaven, they come at last!" cried Helen, clasping her hands together with fervour.

"Who comes?" said Knockando, turning to the lattice, and growing deadly pale as he looked out. "What! the sub-prior of Pluscarden!--ha! and the bailie too with him, and a strong force of mounted men-at-arms! What means all this?"