This announcement set all staring; and George the blacksmith did but utter the general sentiment when, suddenly dropping his assumed character of King George, he said, “Bless us and save us! True Christmas Eve; and Cairnhope old church alight!”
Then there was a furious buzz of tongues, and, in the midst of it Mr. Raby disappeared, and the sword-dancers returned to the kitchen, talking over this strange matter as they went.
Grace retired2 to the drawing-room followed by Coventry.
She sat silent some time, and he watched her keenly.
“I wonder what has become of Mr. Raby?”
Mr. Coventry did not know.
“I hope he is not going out.”
“I should think not, it is a very cold night; clear, but frosty.”
“Surely he would never go to see.”
“Shall I inquire?”
“No; but that might put it into his head. But I wish I knew where he was.”
Presently a servant brought the tea in.
Miss Carden inquired after Mr. Raby.
“He is gone out, miss; but he won't be long, I was to tell you.”
Grace felt terribly uneasy and restless! rang the bell and asked for Jael Dence. The reply was that she had not been to the hall that day.
But, soon afterward3, Jael came up from the village, and went into the kitchen of Raby. There she heard news, which soon took her into the drawing-room.
“Oh, miss,” said she, “do you know where the squire is?”
“Gone to the church?” asked Grace, trembling.
“Ay, and all the sword-dancers at his back.” And she stood there and wrung4 her hands with dismay.
The ancients had a proverb, “Better is an army of stags with a lion for their leader, than an army of lions with a stag for their leader.” The Cairnhope sword-dancers, though stout5 fellows and strong against a mortal foe6, were but stags against the supernatural; yet, led by Guy Raby, they advanced upon the old church with a pretty bold front, only they kept twenty yards in their leader's rear. The order was to march in dead silence.
At the last turn in the road their leader suddenly halted, and, kneeling on one knee, waved to his men to keep quiet: he had seen several dark figures busy about the porch.
After many minutes of thrilling, yet chilling, expectation, he rose and told his men, in a whisper, to follow him again.
The pace was now expedited greatly, and still Mr. Raby, with his double-barreled gun in his hand, maintained a lead of some yards and his men followed as noiselessly as they could, and made for the church: sure enough it was lighted inside.
The young man who was thus beset7 by two distinct bands of enemies, deserved a very different fate at the hands of his fellow-creatures.
For, at this moment, though any thing but happy himself, he was working some hours every day for the good of mankind; and was every day visiting as a friend the battered8 saw-grinder who had once put his own life in mortal peril9.
He had not fathomed10 the letter Grace had sent him. He was a young man and a straightforward11; he did not understand the amiable12 defects of the female character. He studied every line of this letter, and it angered and almost disgusted him. It was the letter of a lady; but beneath the surface of gentleness and politeness lay a proposal which he considered mean and cold-blooded. It lowered his esteem13 for her.
His pride and indignation were roused, and battled with his love, and they were aided by the healthy invigorating habits into which Dr. Amboyne had at last inveigled14 him, and so he resisted: he wrote more than one letter in reply to Grace Carden; but, when he came to read them over and compare them with her gentle effusion, he was ashamed of his harshness, and would not send the letter.
He fought on; philanthropy in Hillsborough, forging in Cairnhope Church; and still he dreamed strange dreams now and then: for who can work, both night and day, as this man did—with impunity15?
One night he dreamed that he was working at his forge, when suddenly the floor of the aisle16 burst, and a dead knight17 sprang from the grave with a single bound, and stood erect18 before him, in rusty19 armor: out of his helmet looked two eyes like black diamonds, and a nose like a falcon's. Yet, by one of the droll20 contradictions of a dream, this impetuous, warlike form no sooner opened its lips, than out issued a
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