"Begging pardon, sir," said John, "I knew you sat up late, and madebold to come round, having a word to say to you."
"Willet--is it not?"
"Of the Maypole--at your service, sir."
Mr Haredale closed the window, and withdrew. He presently appearedat a door in the bottom of the turret, and coming across thegarden-walk, unlocked the gate and let them in.
"You are a late visitor, Willet. What is the matter?"
"Nothing to speak of, sir," said John; "an idle tale, I thought youought to know of; nothing more."
"Let your man go forward with the lantern, and give me your hand.
The stairs are crooked and narrow. Gently with your light, friend.
You swing it like a censer."
Hugh, who had already reached the turret, held it more steadily,and ascended first, turning round from time to time to shed hislight downward on the steps. Mr Haredale following next, eyed hislowering face with no great favour; and Hugh, looking down on him,returned his glances with interest, as they climbed the windingstairs.
It terminated in a little ante-room adjoining that from which theyhad seen the light. Mr Haredale entered first, and led the waythrough it into the latter chamber, where he seated himself at awriting-table from which he had risen when they had rung the bell.
"Come in," he said, beckoning to old John, who remained bowing atthe door. "Not you, friend," he added hastily to Hugh, who enteredalso. "Willet, why do you bring that fellow here?"
"Why, sir," returned John, elevating his eyebrows, and lowering hisvoice to the tone in which the question had been asked him, "he"s agood guard, you see."
"Don"t be too sure of that," said Mr Haredale, looking towards himas he spoke. "I doubt it. He has an evil eye."
"There"s no imagination in his eye," returned Mr Willet, glancingover his shoulder at the organ in question, "certainly."
"There is no good there, be assured," said Mr Haredale. "Wait inthat little room, friend, and close the door between us."
Hugh shrugged his shoulders, and with a disdainful look, whichshowed, either that he had overheard, or that he guessed thepurport of their whispering, did as he was told. When he was shutout, Mr Haredale turned to John, and bade him go on with what hehad to say, but not to speak too loud, for there were quick earsyonder.
Thus cautioned, Mr Willet, in an oily whisper, recited all that hehad heard and said that night; laying particular stress upon hisown sagacity, upon his great regard for the family, and upon hissolicitude for their peace of mind and happiness. The story movedhis auditor much more than he had expected. Mr Haredale oftenchanged his attitude, rose and paced the room, returned again,desired him to repeat, as nearly as he could, the very words thatSolomon had used, and gave so many other signs of being disturbedand ill at ease, that even Mr Willet was surprised.
"You did quite right," he said, at the end of a long conversation,"to bid them keep this story secret. It is a foolish fancy on thepart of this weak-brained man, bred in his fears and superstition.
But Miss Haredale, though she would know it to be so, would bedisturbed by it if it reached her ears; it is too nearly connectedwith a subject very painful to us all, to be heard withindifference. You were most prudent, and have laid me under agreat obligation. I thank you very much."
This was equal to John"s most sanguine expectations; but he wouldhave preferred Mr Haredale"s looking at him when he spoke, as if hereally did thank him, to his walking up and down, speaking by fitsand starts, often stopping with his eyes fixed on the ground,moving hurriedly on again, like one distracted, and seeming almostunconscious of what he said or did.
This, however, was his manner; and it was so embarrassing to Johnthat he sat quite passive for a long time, not knowing what todo. At length he rose. Mr Haredale stared at him for a moment asthough he had quite forgotten his being present, then shook handswith him, and opened the door. Hugh, who was, or feigned to be,fast asleep on the ante-chamber floor, sprang up on their entrance, and throwing his cloak about him, grasped his stick and lantern,and prepared to descend the stairs.
"Stay," said Mr Haredale. "Will this man drink?"
"Drink! He"d drink the Thames up, if it was strong enough, sir,replied John Willet. "He"ll have something when he gets home.
He"s better without it, now, sir."
"Nay. Half the distance is done," said Hugh. "What a hard masteryou are! I shall go home the better for one glassful, halfway.
Come!"
As John made no reply, Mr Haredale brought out a glass of liquor,and gave it to Hugh, who, as he took it in his hand, threw part ofit upon the floor.
"What do you mean by splashing your drink about a gentleman"shouse, sir?" said John.
"I"m drinking a toast," Hugh rejoined, holding the glass above hishead, and fixing his eyes on Mr Haredale"s face; "a toast to thishouse and its master." With that he muttered something to himself, and drank the rest, and setting down the glass, preceded themwithout another word.
John was a good deal scandalised by this observance, but seeingthat Mr Haredale took little heed of what Hugh said or did, andthat his thoughts were otherwise employed, he offered no apology,and went in silence down the stairs, across the walk, and throughthe garden-gate. They stopped upon the outer side for Hugh to holdthe light while Mr Haredale locked it on the inner; and then Johnsaw with wonder (as he often afterwards related), that he was verypale, and that his face had changed so much and grown so haggardsince their entrance, that he almost seemed another man.
They were in the open road again, and John Willet was walking onbehind his escort, as he had come, thinking very steadily of whatbe had just now seen, when Hugh drew him suddenly aside, and almostat the same instant three horsemen swept past--the nearest brushedhis shoulder even then--who, checking their steeds as suddenly asthey could, stood still, and waited for their coming up.