Chapter VI: Dark Doings at the Abbey of Penruth

When long disease hath sapped the vital powers, and death creeps on by painless slow approaches, the mind is oftentimes observed to assume a dignified composure, and even an elevation of sentiment, which did not appear to belong to it in the body’s better health: so it was with the mother of our hero. She was reposing on her couch with Cecilia sitting by her side, and when her son approached raised herself up to receive him--I am delighted to see you, my dear child, she said, and I hope your grandfather will consent to your residing in the castle for the very short time I have yet to live: though I have little strength to hold discourse with you, yet it is a consolation to know you are within my call, and that, so long as sight is not taken from me, I may gratify that sense--nay, my beloved son, don’t shed a tear for me--rather rejoice that I am drawing near to the end of a dull journey, joyless at the best, and not less wearisome to others than to myself. I have parted from your father: if he persuades himself that I shall follow him, it is a harmless delusion; if he does not, it is a commodious plea to escape a trouble, and exchange a melancholy scene for an amusing one; at all events, whatever object he may have in view, I hope that you, who have never experienced his care, will have no occasion to lament his absence.

To this John made some answer not necessary to record, when by a signal from his aunt understanding that his mother stood in need of silence and repose, he took the hint and quietly departed. The project of his passing a few weeks with Mr. Wilson at the parsonage was now laid aside, and in compliance with his mother’s wishes, he resumed his station and his studies at the castle, holding himself ever ready to obey her summons, when she wished to see him.

The next morning brought Sir Arthur Floyd once more to the castle. He came to ask the favour of young De Lancaster’s company at his own house, and that he would allow his servant Williams to attend together with lawyer Davis, who would provide himself with the deposition of Sir David’s feeder. It was matter of no small regret to the good old man that these gentlemen were so resolute to persist in their investigation of this odious business, but having pledged his word, he would not retract it, and young John who had not all those repugnant feelings, which his grandfather had, was speedily equipped, and having put himself under the convoy of Sir Arthur Floyd, soon found himself in his conductor’s house, and greeted with all possible politeness by the gentlemen there assembled. Sir David Owen was not yet arrived, and some began to doubt if he would attend the meeting. At length he was discovered coming down the avenue, followed by his huntsman and his groom, himself and his attendants being in the uniform of the hunt.

Upon his entering the room, where the company had assembled, he either did not see, or chose to take no notice of De Lancaster: but observing to the gentlemen, that having understood them to be called together for the purpose of arranging the rules and regulations of the union-hunt, he expected to have found them in their proper colours, and wished to be informed if any thing had occurred to give them dissatisfaction.

We naturally expect that question from you, said Sir Arthur Floyd, and are prepared to answer, that until you can vindicate yourself from a charge, that is made against you, we are and ought to be dissatisfied, and therefore it is we do not shew our colours, till we are convinced by you we need not be ashamed to wear them.

How am I to convince you of that, gentlemen, but by wearing them myself? However as you insinuate, that a charge is made against me, let me know the nature of that charge, and who it is, that presumes to circulate any thing to my discredit.

Hear me with patience, Sir Arthur replied, and I will state it to you without aggravation. You are suspected to have mal-treated the favourite horse Glendowr, which your uncle left by will to this young gentleman, Mr. John De Lancaster, here present.

I see that he is present, but I do not see the right by which he meets the members of a hunt, that he has no concern with. He is here however; such is your pleasure, and I presume he is here for some purpose, best known to yourselves. I am suspected, it seems: what answer can I give to that? Can you substantiate any charge against me? If you can, state it.

This it is, said Sir Arthur, rising from his seat--The horse, that consistently with the manners of a gentleman, ought to have been delivered according to the purport of your uncle’s will, or at least carefully retained in your stable, was unhandsomely turned out upon the mountain, and there found hamstrung in every leg, most barbarously and feloniously mangled, and dying dead upon the ground.

Who found him there?

I found him, young De Lancaster replied; I and my servant found him there, and in that very condition, which you have heared described.

Well, if you did, what is all that to me?

It is to you, rejoined Sir Arthur Floyd, if the deposition of your own menial servant, charging you as the instigator to, and accomplice in, that barbarous act, cannot be done away. This man is now waiting with Mr. Davis the attorney, ready to substantiate his averment upon oath, and I am the magistrate, that will administer it to him, if you so require.

Not I, not I, exclaimed the haughty culprit: I will not condescend to answer to a charge, that is evidenced by a dog-feeder, contrived, abetted and encouraged by a mercenary attorney. I came to meet you here as brother sportsmen, I find you what I will not say. As for that attorney, whom I know to be in the pay and employ of my enemy, I hold him as a wretch too despicable for any notice on my own account; let him propagate and pursue his charge against me as he will, I care not; but I accuse him, and will have him prosecuted to the utmost rigour of the law, as the slanderer and defamer of my innocent and injured mother.

Davis, who had entered the room, unseen of young Owen, and planted himself behind his chair, now stept forward, and demanded to know of what he was accused. It was not immediately that the arrogance of this hardened youth, thus taken by surprise, could recover from his embarrassment; at length, after some hesitation, being again called upon to explain himself, he turned to Davis with an assumed air of bravery, and said--I am given to understand you have not scrupled to affix upon my mother Mrs. Owen the abominable scandal of having secreted a valuable diamond ring, which appears in my uncle’s will as a legacy to Mrs. Cecilia De Lancaster; but which ring after the minutest search is no where to be found. This I aver to be a libel of the grossest sort.

And so it would be, I confess, said Davis, were I not provided with evidence to prove that this same valuable diamond ring was found by Mrs. Owen, and by her consigned to the Jew Israel Lyons, under the seal of secresy, and upon security by him given for the value, to be by him taken out of the kingdom and sold in Holland on her account and for her emolument. I have the ring here in my hand ready to produce, the very ring, which was bequeathed by your uncle, and which you say could not be found amongst the effects of the deceased. Bear witness for me, gentlemen, I am compelled to produce this article in my own defence, and do not voluntarily disobey the positive injunctions of my worthy patron Mr. De Lancaster, who honourably commanded me to stifle the discovery, and put up with any injuries, rather than expose the parties to shame, so much more care had that good gentleman for them than they have had for themselves; but thus accused, and forced on my defence, what could I do but what I now have done?

To this no answer was attempted: astonishment seized the company: Sir David Owen started from his seat, and glancing a malicious look upon our young hero as he passed him--I’ll not forget you, sir, he cried: the time will come when you shall hear of this.