Black Bess; or, the Knight of the Road — page 6: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

1378 know that my eyes have been upon him, but they have— they have! He has been importuning your father to sign a will that will revoke the one he has already made, and alienate all this fine property from you and bequeath it to him. But your father has held out till now, though he is weak, very weak, and his ear is still poisoned by that false tale which your bad cvuusin fabricaved.” Still Claude was silent, and the old man, turning to him, paid : x] ia “Why, how guiet you are, Mastei ack ; .2va don’t say asingle word. But I don’t wonder at ycur silones-~I cau account for it. Your heart must be heavy indeed. In a day or two, though, you will beable to tei me all thats has occurred, and to glad my poor heart. Aad bow is Miss Ellen now, and the little one? Yow seo I call her Miss Ellen still, although I ought not ta doso; but the familiar name came to my tongue’s-en’d before I was aware of it.” “hey are well—very well,” returned Claude, par- posely speaking as huskily as he could, so that it shoutd be hard to recognise the exact tones of his voice. ‘But my heart is indeed heavy,” he continued, “and you must not ask me many questions to-night.” He waited with considerable anxiety to see what would be the result of this speeck. If he could pass muster on this first occasion, he would have good hopes of being able to sustain the deception sufficiently long for him to secure his own safety. He noticed with some misgiving, however, that the old man started, and turned his eyes inquiringly upon him. “Why, Master Jack,” he cried, ‘how strangely you speak—how your voice las altered !’ “Has it?” returned Claude, with greater confidence. “ Perhaps it has, and so have i changed in my appear- ance, if you could but see me. It is very many years now since we met, if you will recollect.” This was a bold assertion, but, fortunately. Olaude’s guess was tolerably correct. Yes,” was the auswer, ‘‘to you it may appear many years, yet to me, wi have lived on this earth so much longer than you have, it seems a mere nothing. But parting is over now, I hope.” ‘¢] hope so too.” “Tt will be a glad day when you take possession here. The people will regret your father’s death, but they will rejoice when they find your cousin is not heir, for he is universally detested.” Claude was again silent, for he could nof tell exactly what to say, and, having been successful so far in his guesses, he was unwilling to run the risk of discovery. “The sympathies of all are with you,” continued the old man, ‘‘and with Miss Ellen. ‘They are all sorry for Miss Ellen, and while they blame your father for his harshness, yet they cannot help pitying him for being so led away by Ralph Davids.” “T am glad of that,” Claude ventured to remark. “Well, now, dear Master Jack, just tell me what you intend todo. Will you not walk in boldly, 6nd, in spite of all obstacles, make your way to your father’s chamber ? He will be glad indeed to see you, and your scheming cousin will be quite discomfited.” Claude reflected. “No,” he said, at length. “If youcould get me int. the house quietly, I should prefer it.” e “Why so 0” ‘Because then you could lead me, perhaps, by some unfrequented route to the chamber where my cousin is. 1 should like to witness what takes place with my owu eyes.” yw Then you shall do so,” was the answer; “and por- haps it will be better so. You kuow the way, Master Jack, as well as I do.” ‘Yes, yes; but I will leave my hore, ana tnen you can accempany me. I am so agitated aud troubled to- hight that I feel as though I must have you with me.” The old man seemed very pleased and gratcful for this speech. 3 “Tf you wise your arrival kept a seerct, we will fasten your horse to this tree, and then creep slowly towards the house.” “Just so,” returned Claude, and while ke spoke he slipped from the saddla His horse was secured to a tres, and then, with cautious footsteps, he followed his strange guile across the lawn. A BLACK CESS; *. oz Se ee ed On his way, he reflected a little on the gingular poal- tion in which chance had placed him. For the present he had no doubt that he was pervect safe. : : The officers might search for him as long sa they liked—they would never find him. — It was impossible, however, for Ulaude not to feel grateful to the old man, who had so unintentionally be- iriended him, and, from what he had heard, he could eusily surmise that without some active interference a great wroug would be perpetrated. That active interference he resolved to make. He had no longer to trouble himself about his own position. H-eshould be able to direct all his energies to the one object before him. | These were tho reflections that occupied his mind aa he followed the old man to the house. Ile was careful then to keep in the rear, for he had not tho -emotest notion of where he was going. In a few minutes afterwards, the old man paused. Claude wished that he could learn his name. so as to address im by it. But it was scarcely likely that he should hear it pro- nounced, although the old man might consider it singular that he should never call him by it. Opening a little side door in the mansion, he passed through, and stood aside for Claude to enter. He crossed the threshold quickly. ‘ ‘he door was closed behind him, and he found himself in perfect darixness. ; “Take my hand, Master Jack,” cried the old man. “There, that will do—I can lead you now. I do believe that Iam more familiar with this old place than you are, for I could find my way anywhere aout it in the dark.” ‘Yes, yes—don’t trust to me in the least,” murmured Claude. “I feel so completely overcome that I am not capable of taking the lead in anything.” Slowly, so as to avoid making any sound that would discover their presence, the old man advanced. A flight of stairs was descended, a long corridor tra- versed, and then there was a pause. “This is the door of the dressing-room,” exclaimed the old man. “If I could manage to open that quietly, and we entered, we should be able to see and hear aimost everything, for the inner door is nearly always ajar.” “Good!” said Claude. “ Listen first—then try.” The old man listened, and then gently opened the door. A feeble light appeared beyond. Every care had been taken t6 prevent any unpleasant. sound reaching the ears of the rick invalid. The hinges of the door had been oiled on this account, and therefore the old man was able to push it open in perfect silence. A hasty glance showed him thet the Gressing-room was vacant. Claude looked eagerly over his shoulder. Just before them was another door, standing partly open—the door evidently that communicated with the bed-cham ber, In this a light was burning, and those rays that streamed through the doorway served to light up the - dressing-room ‘to some extent—sufficient, at any rate, to enable Claude and his guide to 2void coming in contact with any article of furniture. Breathlessly, and on tiptoe, they stole to this dcor— then paused and pecped In. A. spacious, handsomely-furnished bed-chamber was disclosed, filled with rare and costly articles. Upon these, however, Claude’s eyes did not rest for a second, Ai nis attention was immediately concentrated upen i the twe sole ceenpants of the room. CHAPTER DCCCXAE. iM HICH 22 TURNS OUT THAT TUZ MISTAKE WAS 3 “OST FORLUNATE OCCURRENCE FOR ALL PARTIES, ONE Waa & man apparently about thirty years of aps, though he might have been older. His hair had a reddish tinge, and his face, which was iat and dull-looking, was disfigured by sa Immense Bum ber of freckles, | ees Pe Rips nc, 78 Olas ty ‘ . S Perr i -* Eomicboo (elo) cS