The Black Dwarf

Chapter 16

"What miserable being is reduced," said the appalling voice of the

Solitary, "to seek refuge here? Go hence; when the heath-fowl need

shelter, they seek it not in the nest of the night-raven."

"I come to you, father," said Isabella, "in my hour of adversity, even

as you yourself commanded, when you promised your heart and your door

should be open to my distress; but I fear--"

"Ha!" said the Solitary, "then thou art Isabella Vere? Give me a token

that thou art she."

"I have brought you back the rose which you gave me; it has not had time

to fade ere the hard fate you foretold has come upon me!"

"And if thou hast thus redeemed thy pledge," said the Dwarf, "I will not

forfeit mine. The heart and the door that are shut against every other

earthly being, shall be open to thee and to thy sorrows."

She heard him move in his hut, and presently afterwards strike a light.

One by one, bolt and bar were then withdrawn, the heart of Isabella

throbbing higher as these obstacles to their meeting were successively

removed. The door opened, and the Solitary stood before her, his uncouth

form and features illuminated by the iron lamp which he held in his

hand.

"Enter, daughter of affliction," he said,--"enter the house of misery."

She entered, and observed, with a precaution which increased her

trepidation, that the Recluse's first act, after setting the lamp upon

the table, was to replace the numerous bolts which secured the door

of his hut. She shrunk as she heard the noise which accompanied this

ominous operation, yet remembered Ratcliffe's caution, and endeavoured

to suppress all appearance of apprehension. The light of the lamp was

weak and uncertain; but the Solitary, without taking immediate notice of

Isabella, otherwise than by motioning her to sit down on a small

settle beside the fireplace, made haste to k****e some dry furze, which

presently cast a blaze through the cottage. Wooden shelves, which bore

a few books, some bundles of dried herbs, and one or two wooden cups and

platters, were on one side of the fire; on the other were placed some

ordinary tools of field-labour, mingled with those used by mechanics.

Where the bed should have been, there was a wooden frame, strewed with

withered moss and rushes, the couch of the ascetic. The whole space of

the cottage did not exceed ten feet by six within the walls; and its

only furniture, besides what we have mentioned, was a table and two

stools formed of rough deals.

Within these narrow precincts Isabella now found herself enclosed with

a being, whose history had nothing to reassure her, and the fearful

conformation of whose hideous countenance inspired an almost

superstitious terror. He occupied the seat opposite to her, and dropping

his huge and shaggy eyebrows over his piercing black eyes, gazed at her

in silence, as if agitated by a variety of contending feelings. On the

other side sate Isabella, pale as death, her long hair uncurled by the

evening damps, and falling over her shoulders and breast, as the wet

streamers droop from the mast when the storm has passed away, and left

the vessel stranded on the beach. The Dwarf first broke the silence with

the sudden, abrupt, and alarming question,--"Woman, what evil fate has

brought thee hither?"

"My father's danger, and your own command," she replied faintly, but

firmly.

"And you hope for aid from me?"

"If you can bestow it," she replied, still in the same tone of mild

submission.

"And how should I possess that power?" continued the Dwarf, with a

bitter sneer; "Is mine the form of a redresser of wrongs? Is this the

castle in which one powerful enough to be sued to by a fair suppliant

is likely to hold his residence? I but mocked thee, girl, when I said I

would relieve thee."

"Then must I depart, and face my fate as I best may!"

"No!" said the Dwarf, rising and interposing between her and the door,

and motioning to her sternly to resume her seat--"No! you leave me

not in this way; we must have farther conference. Why should one being

desire aid of another? Why should not each be sufficient to itself? Look

round you--I, the most despised and most decrepit on Nature's common,

have required sympathy and help from no one. These stones are of my own

piling; these utensils I framed with my own hands; and with this"--and

he laid his hand with a fierce smile on the long dagger which he always

wore beneath his garment, and unsheathed it so far that the blade

glimmered clear in the fire-light--"with this," he pursued, as he thrust

the weapon back into the scabbard, "I can, if necessary, defend the

vital spark enclosed in this poor trunk, against the fairest and

strongest that shall threaten me with injury."

It was with difficulty Isabella refrained from screaming out aloud; but

she DID refrain.

"This," continued the Recluse, "is the life of nature, solitary,

self-sufficing, and independent. The wolf calls not the wolf to aid him

in forming his den; and the vulture invites not another to assist her in

striking down her prey."

"And when they are unable to procure themselves support," said Isabella,

judiciously thinking that he would be most accessible to argument

couched in his own metaphorical style, "what then is to befall them?"

"Let them starve, die, and be forgotten; it is the common lot of

humanity."

"It is the lot of the wild tribes of nature," said Isabella, "but

chiefly of those who are destined to support themselves by rapine, which

brooks no partner; but it is not the law of nature in general; even the

lower orders have confederacies for mutual defence. But mankind--the

race would perish did they cease to aid each other.--From the time

that the mother binds the child's head, till the moment that some kind

assistant wipes the death-damp from the brow of the dying, we cannot

exist without mutual help. All, therefore, that need aid, have right to

ask it of their fellow-mortals; no one who has the power of granting can

refuse it without guilt."

"And in this simple hope, poor maiden," said the Solitary, "thou hast

come into the desert, to seek one whose wish it were that the league

thou hast spoken of were broken for ever, and that, in very truth, the

whole race should perish? Wert thou not frightened?"

"Misery," said Isabella, firmly, "is superior to fear."

"Hast thou not heard it said in thy mortal world, that I have leagued

myself with other powers, deformed to the eye and malevolent to the

human race as myself? Hast thou not heard this--And dost thou seek my

cell at midnight?"

"The Being I worship supports me against such idle fears," said

Isabella; but the increasing agitation of her bosom belied the affected

courage which her words expressed.

"Ho! ho!" said the Dwarf, "thou vauntest thyself a philosopher? Yet,

shouldst thou not have thought of the danger of intrusting thyself,

young and beautiful, in the power of one so spited against humanity, as

to place his chief pleasure in defacing, destroying, and degrading her

fairest works?"

Isabella, much alarmed, continued to answer with firmness, "Whatever

injuries you may have sustained in the world, you are incapable of

revenging them on one who never wronged you, nor, wilfully, any other."

"Ay, but, maiden," he continued, his dark eyes flashing with an

expression of malignity which communicated itself to his wild and

distorted features, "revenge is the hungry wolf, which asks only to tear

flesh and lap blood. Think you the lamb's plea of innocence would be

listened to by him?"

"Man!" said Isabella, rising, and expressing herself with much dignity,

"I fear not the horrible ideas with which you would impress me. I cast

them from me with disdain. Be you mortal or fiend, you would not offer

injury to one who sought you as a suppliant in her utmost need. You

would not--you durst not."

"Thou say'st truly, maiden," rejoined the Solitary; "I dare not--I would

not. Begone to thy dwelling. Fear nothing with which they threaten thee.

Thou hast asked my protection--thou shalt find it effectual."

"But, father, this very night I have consented to wed the man that I

abhor, or I must put the seal to my father's ruin."

"This night?--at what hour?"

"Ere midnight."

"And twilight," said the Dwarf, "has already passed away. But fear

nothing, there is ample time to protect thee."

"And my father?" continued Isabella, in a suppliant tone.

"Thy father," replied the Dwarf, "has been, and is, my most bitter

enemy. But fear not; thy virtue shall save him. And now, begone; were

I to keep thee longer by me, I might again fall into the stupid dreams

concerning human worth from which I have been so fearfully awakened. But

fear nothing--at the very foot of the altar I will redeem thee. Adieu,

time presses, and I must act!"

He led her to the door of the hut, which he opened for her departure.

She remounted her horse, which had been feeding in the outer enclosure,

and pressed him forward by the light of the moon, which was now rising,

to the spot where she had left Ratcliffe.

"Have you succeeded?" was his first eager question.

"I have obtained promises from him to whom you sent me; but how can he

possibly accomplish them?"

"Thank God!" said Ratcliffe; "doubt not his power to fulfil his

promise."

At this moment a shrill whistle was heard to resound along the heath.

"Hark!" said Ratcliffe, "he calls me--Miss Vere, return home, and leave

unbolted the postern-door of the garden; to that which opens on the

back-stairs I have a private key."

A second whistle was heard, yet more shrill and prolonged than the

first.

"I come, I come," said Ratcliffe; and setting spurs to his horse, rode

over the heath in the direction of the Recluse's hut. Miss Vere returned

to the castle, the mettle of the animal on which she rode, and her own

anxiety of mind, combining to accelerate her journey.

She obeyed Ratcliffe's directions, though without well apprehending

their purpose, and leaving her horse at large in a paddock near

the garden, hurried to her own apartment, which she reached without

observation. She now unbolted her door, and rang her bell for lights.

Her father appeared along with the servant who answered her summons.

"He had been twice," he said, "listening at her door during the two

hours that had elapsed since he left her, and, not hearing her speak,

had become apprehensive that she was taken ill."

"And now, my dear father," she said, "permit me to claim the promise you

so kindly gave; let the last moments of freedom which I am to enjoy be

mine without interruption; and protract to the last moment the respite

which is allowed me."

"I will," said her father; "nor shall you be again interrupted. But this

disordered dress--this dishevelled hair--do not let me find you thus

when I call on you again; the sacrifice, to be beneficial, must be

voluntary."

"Must it be so?" she replied; "then fear not, my father! the victim

shall be adorned."