CHAPTER III. "A knave's a knave to me in every state, "I'll introduce you. Gentlemen! POPE. my friend." CRABBE. LADY EDITH being one day about to visit a family ill with typhus fever, left Beatrice at home, but as an inducement to take healthful exercise she commissioned her to visit the pleasure-grounds at Eaglescairn, where a new gardener, recently come, had proposed an occasional exchange of plants. With buoyant step, therefore, the animated young girl set forth, carrying in her hand a small specimen of the newest Camellia in a flower-pot, for which she was to receive a young Scarlet Azalea in return. The family at Eaglescairn not being expected home for some days, Beatrice, as she scrambled over the styles and crossed the fields, felt all the excitement of a pleasant adventure in going to see what improvements had been made in the magnificent flower-beds of Eaglescairn, by the new gardener, Mr. Macgregor, and in passing near Daisy bank she called to inquire for old Mr. Carre, as well as to leave a gift from Lady Edith of some peculiarly fine foreign preserves. Having passed Robert some miles before, evidently on his way to Bessie's cottage home, she was astonished, in a quiet lane by the river's side, to see the young girl herself walking slowly and thoughtfully beside Mrs. Lorraine, who seemed talking to her with impressive earnestness, and with a melo-dramatic air of mystery. Beatrice wished she could have recalled Robert from his useless errand to Clanmarina, or otherwise interrupted this ominous conference; but unable to devise any step she could feel justified in taking, she proceeded to Daisy bank Farm. There, on opening the door, Beatrice was startled, and beyond all measure astonished, to find Father Eustace seated on the old farmer's bed-side, and talking to him in a tone of vehement excitement. The panic-struck maid was standing aghast before the fire, apparently terrified out of her very few senses, and the old man himself lay feebly gazing with a look of abject terror at the priest, who spoke to him in tones of terrible denunciation. Father Eustace held in his hand an image of St. Joseph, in stucco, and a very decayed looking piece of bone, to which he directed old Mr. Carre's almost vacant eye, and it became evident to Beatrice that he was vehemently exhorting the apparently dying man to some act of penitence and of meritorious sacrifice. The old dog, which was tied up to the bed-post, lay growling defiance at Father Eustace, and on a table beside the bed, Beatrice observed a large sheet of parchment, closely written over from top to bottom. Pen and ink were placed conveniently beside it, and on the floor lay a note which she quietly picked up without any one of the deeply absorbed trio becoming conscious of her presence. This was a single line addressed to Robert Carre in a feigned hand, saying that it would be of the utmost importance to Bessie's interest and happiness if he could instantly hasten to meet her at home, as she had something of consequence to tell him. This, then, had been part of a Popish plot, to get the attached son away from his father's dying-bed! Beatrice paused over it for a moment in silent indignation, and then gliding out of the house, she hurried to the farm offices. There she sent off the swiftest footed boy in the place to fetch back his young master, and immediately afterwards, accompanied by the honest ploughman, Andrew Murray, whom she called from his work, Beatrice noiselessly returned into the sick-room. Old Mr. Carre, looking completely idiotical, had a pen in his trembling hand; the paper lay before him, and he was supported in bed by the terrified maid, while Father Eustace, with an anxious crafty expression of countenance, held his hand. Never had Beatrice seen so perfect a picture of prostration, mental and bodily, as that of the old farmer: gazing with abject fear at the priest, who looked as threatening as death, and spoke to him in accents of stern command, while the maid gazed on Father Eustace as if under the fascination of a serpent; for no one could be within the influence of that eye and not feel it. The heart of Beatrice seemed to stand still for a moment, and then the colour rushed into her face, flooding it with a glow of honest indignation. At this moment, she with hurried but noiseless. steps glided swiftly up to the bed, and in an instant seized the pen out of Mr. Carre's hand, then snatching up the paper, which was half signed, she threw it to the stout-hearted Andrew Murray, desiring him to keep that in his custody, and never part with the document till he gave it into his young master's own hand. Beatrice, after this, sat resolutely down to await the return of Robert, determined not to leave Daisy bank till she saw the old man again properly protected by his affectionate and most devoted son. The face of Father Eustace had become livid with rage at this unexpected defeat; but the dying old man feebly held out his hand to Beatrice, and whispered with a terrified glance at the dark and working face of the priest, "Will he go away? I die a Protestant. Who is that? What did he make me write? Is Robert dead? Are the undertakers come?" "All is right now," said Beatrice, in a tone of quiet kindness, which re-assured the agitated old man, though still his eye with an anxious scrutinising gaze wandered round the room; "Robert will be home soon. I shall stay here till he comes. Now try to sleep." "Not till he goes away," replied the old man, with a shudder. "What did he give me the pen for? Is all gone? all lost? Poor Robert!" "No! no! all is well. Keep your mind quiet, and that man shall never, as long as the world lasts, return here again. Try to forget him!" Old Mr. Carre, with a look of devout reverence, laid his hand on the Bible, which stood by his side on the bed; then closing his languid eyes with a shudder, he remained apparently insensible, and almost fainting with weakness, as pale and immoveable as a corpse. When Robert appeared at a distance, hurrying with rapid strides towards home, Father Eustace glided noiselessly as a ghost away, and disappeared behind the offices, where soon after he was followed by Mrs. Lorraine, stealing along like a snake in the grass. Great was the surprise of Robert to meet Bessie near his own home, when he had gone to Clanmarina in search of her, and the young girl's astonishment was not less when told of the sum |