The Black Dwarf

Chapter 11

The course of our story must here revert a little, to detail the

circumstances which had placed Miss Vere in the unpleasant situation

from which she was unexpectedly, and indeed unintentionally liberated,

by the appearance of Earnscliff and Elliot, with their friends and

followers, before the Tower of Westburnflat.

On the morning preceding the night in which Hobbie's house was plundered

and burnt, Miss Vere was requested by her father to accompany him in a

walk through a distant part of the romantic grounds which lay round

his castle of Ellieslaw. "To hear was to obey," in the true style of

Oriental despotism; but Isabella trembled in silence while she followed

her father through rough paths, now winding by the side of the river,

now ascending the cliffs which serve for its banks. A single servant,

selected perhaps for his stupidity, was the only person who attended

them. From her father's silence, Isabella little doubted that he had

chosen this distant and sequestered scene to resume the argument which

they had so frequently maintained upon the subject of Sir Frederick's

addresses, and that he was meditating in what manner he should most

effectually impress upon her the necessity of receiving him as her

suitor. But her fears seemed for some time to be unfounded. The only

sentences which her father from time to time addressed to her, respected

the beauties of the romantic landscape through which they strolled, and

which varied its features at every step. To these observations, although

they seemed to come from a heart occupied by more gloomy as well as more

important cares, Isabella endeavoured to answer in a manner as free and

unconstrained as it was possible for her to assume, amid the involuntary

apprehensions which crowded upon her imagination.

Sustaining with mutual difficulty a desultory conversation, they at

length gained the centre of a small wood, composed of large oaks,

intermingled with birches, mountain-ashes, hazel, holly, and a variety

of underwood. The boughs of the tall trees met closely above, and the

underwood filled up each interval between their trunks below. The spot

on which they stood was rather more open; still, however, embowered

under the natural arcade of tall trees, and darkened on the sides for a

space around by a great and lively growth of copse-wood and bushes.

"And here, Isabella," said Mr. Vere, as he pursued the conversation,

so often resumed, so often dropped, "here I would erect an altar to

Friendship."

"To Friendship, sir!" said Miss Vere; "and why on this gloomy and

sequestered spot, rather than elsewhere?"

"O, the propriety of the LOCALE is easily vindicated," replied her

father, with a sneer. "You know, Miss Vere (for you, I am well aware,

are a learned young lady), you know, that the Romans were not satisfied

with embodying, for the purpose of worship, each useful quality and

moral virtue to which they could give a name; but they, moreover,

worshipped the same under each variety of titles and attributes which

could give a distinct shade, or individual character, to the virtue in

question. Now, for example, the Friendship to whom a temple should be

here dedicated, is not Masculine Friendship, which abhors and despises

duplicity, art, and disguise; but Female Friendship, which consists in

little else than a mutual disposition on the part of the friends, as

they call themselves, to abet each other in obscure fraud and petty

intrigue."

"You are severe, sir," said Miss Vere.

"Only just," said her father; "a humble copier I am from nature, with

the advantage of contemplating two such excellent studies as Lucy

Ilderton and yourself."

"If I have been unfortunate enough to offend, sir, I can conscientiously

excuse Miss Ilderton from being either my counsellor or confidante."

"Indeed! how came you, then," said Mr. Vere, "by the flippancy of

speech, and pertness of argument, by which you have disgusted Sir

Frederick, and given me of late such deep offence?"

"If my manner has been so unfortunate as to displease you, sir, it

is impossible for me to apologize too deeply, or too sincerely; but I

cannot confess the same contrition for having answered Sir Frederick

flippantly when he pressed me rudely. Since he forgot I was a lady, it

was time to show him that I am at least a woman."

"Reserve, then, your pertness for those who press you on the topic,

Isabella," said her father coldly; "for my part, I am weary of the

subject, and will never speak upon it again."

"God bless you, my dear father," said Isabella, seizing his reluctant

hand "there is nothing you can impose on me, save the task of listening

to this man's persecution, that I will call, or think, a hardship."

"You are very obliging, Miss Vere, when it happens to suit you to be

dutiful," said her unrelenting father, forcing himself at the same time

from the affectionate grasp of her hand; "but henceforward, child, I

shall save myself the trouble of offering you unpleasant advice on any

topic. You must look to yourself."

At this moment four ruffians rushed upon them. Mr. Vere and his servant

drew their hangers, which it was the fashion of the time to wear, and

attempted to defend themselves and protect Isabella. But while each of

them was engaged by an antagonist, she was forced into the thicket by

the two remaining villains, who placed her and themselves on horses

which stood ready behind the copse-wood. They mounted at the same time,

and, placing her between them, set of at a round gallop, holding the

reins of her horse on each side. By many an obscure and winding path,

over dale and down, through moss and moor, she was conveyed to the tower

of Westburnflat, where she remained strictly watched, but not otherwise

ill-treated, under the guardianship of the old woman, to whose son that

retreat belonged. No entreaties could prevail upon the hag to give Miss

Vere any information on the object of her being carried forcibly off,

and confined in this secluded place. The arrival of Earnscliff, with a

strong party of horsemen, before the tower, alarmed the robber. As he

had already directed Grace Armstrong to be restored to her friends, it

did not occur to him that this unwelcome visit was on her account; and

seeing at the head of the party, Earnscliff, whose attachment to Miss

Vere was whispered in the country, he doubted not that her liberation

was the sole object of the attack upon his fastness. The dread of

personal consequences compelled him to deliver up his prisoner in the

manner we have already related.

At the moment the tramp of horses was heard which carried off the

daughter of Ellieslaw, her father fell to the earth, and his servant, a

stout young fellow, who was gaining ground on the ruffian with whom he

had been engaged, left the combat to come to his master's assistance,

little doubting that he had received a mortal wound, Both the villains

immediately desisted from farther combat, and, retreating into the

thicket, mounted their horses, and went off at full speed after their

companions. Meantime, Dixon had the satisfaction to find Mr. Vere not

only alive, but unwounded. He had overreached himself, and stumbled,

it seemed, over the root of a tree, in making too eager a blow at his

antagonist. The despair he felt at his daughter's disappearance, was, in

Dixon's phrase, such as would have melted the heart of a whin stane, and

he was so much exhausted by his feelings, and the vain researches which

he made to discover the track of the ravishers, that a considerable

time elapsed ere he reached home, and communicated the alarm to his

domestics.

All his conduct and gestures were those of a desperate man.

"Speak not to me, Sir Frederick," he said impatiently; "You are no

father--she was my child, an ungrateful one! I fear, but still my

child--my only child. Where is Miss Ilderton? she must know something of

this. It corresponds with what I was informed of her schemes. Go, Dixon,

call Ratcliffe here Let him come without a minute's delay." The person

he had named at this moment entered the room.

"I say, Dixon," continued Mr. Vere, in an altered tone, "let Mr.

Ratcliffe know, I beg the favour of his company on particular

business.--Ah! my dear sir," he proceeded, as if noticing him for the

first time, "you are the very man whose advice can be of the utmost

service to me in this cruel extremity."

"What has happened, Mr. Vere, to discompose you?" said Mr, Ratcliffe,

gravely; and while the Laird of Ellieslaw details to him, with the most

animated gestures of grief and indignation, the singular adventure of

the morning, we shall take the opportunity to inform our readers of the

relative circumstances in which these gentlemen stood to each other.

In early youth, Mr. Vere of Ellieslaw had been remarkable for a career

of dissipation, which, in advanced life, he had exchanged for the no

less destructive career of dark and turbulent ambition. In both

cases, he had gratified the predominant passion without respect to the

diminution of his private fortune, although, where such inducements

were wanting, he was deemed close, avaricious, and grasping. His affairs

being much embarrassed by his earlier extravagance, he went to England,

where he was understood to have formed a very advantageous matrimonial

connexion. He was many years absent from his family estate. Suddenly and

unexpectedly he returned a widower, bringing with him his daughter,

then a girl of about ten years old. From this moment his expense

seemed unbounded, in the eyes of the simple inhabitants of his native

mountains. It was supposed he must necessarily have plunged himself

deeply in debt. Yet he continued to live in the same lavish expense,

until some months before the commencement of our narrative, when the

public opinion of his embarrassed circumstances was confirmed, by

the residence of Mr. Ratcliffe at Ellieslaw Castle, who, by the tacit

consent, though obviously to the great displeasure, of the lord of the

mansion, seemed, from the moment of his arrival, to assume and exercise

a predominant and unaccountable influence in the management of his

private affairs.

Mr. Ratcliffe was a grave, steady, reserved man, in an advanced period

of life. To those with whom he had occasion to speak upon business, he

appeared uncommonly well versed in all its forms. With others he held

little communication; but in any casual intercourse, or conversation,

displayed the powers of an active and well-informed mind. For some

time before taking up his final residence at the castle, he had been

an occasional visitor there, and was at such times treated by Mr. Vere

(contrary to his general practice towards those who were inferior to

him in rank) with marked attention, and even deference. Yet his arrival

always appeared to be an embarrassment to his host, and his departure a

relief; so that, when he became a constant inmate of the family, it was

impossible not to observe indications of the displeasure with which Mr.

Vere regarded his presence. Indeed, their intercourse formed a singular

mixture of confidence and constraint. Mr. Vere's most important affairs

were regulated by Mr. Ratcliffe; and although he was none of those

indulgent men of fortune, who, too indolent to manage their own

business, are glad to devolve it upon another, yet, in many instances,

he was observed to give up his own judgment, and submit to the contrary

opinions which Mr. Ratcliffe did not hesitate distinctly to express.

Nothing seemed to vex Mr. Vere more than when strangers indicated any

observation of the state of tutelage under which he appeared to labour.

When it was noticed by Sir Frederick, or any of his intimates, he

sometimes repelled their remarks haughtily and indignantly, and

sometimes endeavoured to evade them, by saying, with a forced laugh,

"That Ratcliffe knew his own importance, but that he was the most honest

and skilful fellow in the world; and that it would be impossible for him

to manage his English affairs without his advice and assistance." Such

was the person who entered the room at the moment Mr. Vere was summoning

him to his presence, and who now heard with surprise, mingled with

obvious incredulity, the hasty narrative of what had befallen Isabella.

Her father concluded, addressing Sir Frederick and the other gentlemen,

who stood around in astonishment, "And now, my friends, you see the most

unhappy father in Scotland. Lend me your assistance, gentlemen--give me

your advice, Mr. Ratcliffe. I am incapable of acting, or thinking, under

the unexpected violence of such a blow."

"Let us take our horses, call our attendants, and scour the country in

pursuit of the villains," said Sir Frederick.

"Is there no one whom you can suspect," said Ratcliffe, gravely, "of

having some motive for this strange crime? These are not the days of

romance, when ladies are carried off merely for their beauty."

"I fear," said Mr. Vere, "I can too well account for this strange

incident. Read this letter, which Miss Lucy Ilderton thought fit to

address from my house of Ellieslaw to young Mr. Earnscliff; whom, of all

men, I have a hereditary right to call my enemy. You see she writes

to him as the confidant of a passion which he has the assurance to

entertain for my daughter; tells him she serves his cause with her

friend very ardently, but that he has a friend in the garrison who

serves him yet more effectually. Look particularly at the pencilled

passages, Mr. Ratcliffe, where this meddling girl recommends bold

measures, with an assurance that his suit would be successful anywhere

beyond the bounds of the barony of Ellieslaw."

"And you argue, from this romantic letter of a very romantic young lady,

Mr. Vere," said Ratcliffe, "that young Earnscliff has carried off your

daughter, and committed a very great and criminal act of violence, on no

better advice and assurance than that of Miss Lucy Ilderton?"

"What else can I think?" said Ellieslaw.

"What else CAN you think?" said Sir Frederick; "or who else could have

any motive for committing such a crime?"

"Were that the best mode of fixing the guilt," said Mr. Ratcliffe,

calmly, "there might easily be pointed out persons to whom such actions

are more congenial, and who have also sufficient motives of instigation.

Supposing it were judged advisable to remove Miss Vere to some place in

which constraint might be exercised upon her inclinations to a degree

which cannot at present be attempted under the roof of Ellieslaw

Castle--What says Sir Frederick Langley to that supposition?"

"I say," returned Sir Frederick, "that although Mr. Vere may choose to

endure in Mr. Ratcliffe freedoms totally inconsistent with his situation

in life, I will not permit such license of innuendo, by word or look, to

be extended to me, with impunity."

"And I say," said young Mareschal of Mareschal-Wells, who was also

a guest at the castle, "that you are all stark mad to be standing

wrangling here, instead of going in pursuit of the ruffians."

"I have ordered off the domestics already in the track most likely to

overtake them," said Mr. Vere "if you will favour me with your company,

we will follow them, and assist in the search."

The efforts of the party were totally unsuccessful, probably because

Ellieslaw directed the pursuit to proceed in the direction of Earnscliff

Tower, under the supposition that the owner would prove to be the

author of the violence, so that they followed a direction diametrically

opposite to that in which the ruffians had actually proceeded. In the

evening they returned, harassed and out of spirits. But other guests

had, in the meanwhile, arrived at the castle; and, after the recent loss

sustained by the owner had been related, wondered at, and lamented, the

recollection of it was, for the present, drowned in the discussion

of deep political intrigues, of which the crisis and explosion were

momentarily looked for.

Several of the gentlemen who took part in this divan were Catholics, and

all of them stanch Jacobites, whose hopes were at present at the highest

pitch, as an invasion, in favour of the Pretender, was daily expected

from France, which Scotland, between the defenceless state of its

garrisons and fortified places, and the general disaffection of the

inhabitants, was rather prepared to welcome than to resist. Ratcliffe,

who neither sought to assist at their consultations on this subject,

nor was invited to do so, had, in the meanwhile, retired to his own

apartment. Miss Ilderton was sequestered from society in a sort of

honourable confinement, "until," said Mr. Vere, "she should be safely

conveyed home to her father's house," an opportunity for which occurred

on the following day.

The domestics could not help thinking it remarkable how soon the loss of

Miss Vere, and the strange manner in which it had happened, seemed to be

forgotten by the other guests at the castle. They knew not, that those

the most interested in her fate were well acquainted with the cause

of her being carried off, and the place of her retreat; and that the

others, in the anxious and doubtful moments which preceded the breaking

forth of a conspiracy, were little accessible to any feelings but what

arose immediately out of their own machinations.