Eustace Marchmont: A friend of the peopleEverett-Green, Evelyn
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Eustace Marchmont: A friend of the people
Everett-Green, Evelyn
West Country (England) -- Fiction
That was it. That was what she missed--the faint refulgence she was
accustomed to see shining from the turret where the great lamp always
burned. What had happened? Had the old fisherman neglected to come? or
had he been negligent of his charge and suffered the lamp to go out?
She felt sure the light must have been burning as usual earlier in the
night. It was lighted at five now, and numbers of persons would have
noticed had it not been lighted, and news would certainly have quickly
reached the castle. No, it must be that the old fisherman had gone
to sleep, and had omitted to fill up the lamp, which had burned down
and gone out. And ah! suppose some vessel even now was beating down
Channel, and anxiously looking out for the beacon! Oh, suppose some
vessel was already in peril for want of the guiding light! Suppose that
vessel were the one in which Eustace was journeying to them! Ah!--was
that the meaning of that cry? Had it indeed been sent as a sign--as a
warning?
With a sense of sudden comprehension Bride turned back into the room
and hastily took up her lamp. Without waiting to summon any other
person--without a moment of needless delay--she made her way along the
dark still corridors, where the heavy shadows lay sleeping, but woke
and fled away like spectres at her approach; through the blank silence
of the great house she stepped, followed silently by the faithful
hound, who always slept at her door, till she reached a heavy oaken
door, studded with brass nails, and fastened on the inside with heavy
bolts and clamps, that led from the castle into that corner turret
which had for so many years been given up to the beacon light and its
custodian.
Bride used as a child to go frequently into the tower with her mother.
Latterly she had been much less often, but she was familiar with the
fastenings of the door, and knew her way to the upper chamber where the
great lamp burned.
The place was perfectly dark as she entered, and as silent as the
grave; but as she ascended the spiral staircase which led to the
chamber where the great lamp burned, she was aware of a peculiar
moaning sound, she hardly knew whether human or not, and a thrill of
horror ran through her, though she did not pause in her rapid ascent.
The hound heard it too, and sped past her with a low whimper of
curiosity, bounding upwards and into the room overhead, where he broke
into a loud bay.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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