Great Britain -- History -- Civil War, 1642-1649 -- Fiction
As soon as the house was once more quiet, he got up, and, thoroughly
acquainted with the "crenkles" of it, took his way through dusk and
dark, through narrow passage and wide chamber, without encountering the
slightest risk of being heard or seen, until at last he stood,
breathless with anxiety and terror, at the door of the turret-chamber,
and laid his ear against it.
CHAPTER XXXII.
THE TURRET CHAMBER.
When mistress Watson had, as gently as if she had been his mother, bound
up Richard's wounded head, she gave him a composing draught, and sat
down by his bedside. But as soon as she saw it begin to take effect, she
withdrew, in the certainty that he would not move for some hours at
least. Although he did fall asleep, however, Richard's mind was too
restless and anxious to yield itself to the natural influence of the
potion. He had given his word to his father that he would ride on the
morrow; the morrow had come, and here he was! Hence the condition which
the drug superinduced was rather that of dreaming than sleep, the more
valuable element, repose, having little place in the result.
The key was in the lock, and Tom Fool as he listened softly turned it,
then lifted the latch, peeped in, and entered. Richard started to his
elbow, and stared wildly about him. Tom made him an anxious sign, and,
fevered as he was and but half awake, Richard, whether he understood it
or not, anyhow kept silence, while Tom Fool approached the bed, and
began to talk rapidly in a low voice, trembling with apprehension. It
was some time, however, before Richard began to comprehend even a
fragment here and there of what he was saying. When at length he had
gathered this much, that his visitor was running no small risk in coming
to him, and was in mortal dread of discovery, he needed but the
disclosure of who he was, which presently followed, to spring upon him
and seize him by the throat with a gripe that rendered it impossible for
him to cry out, had he been so minded.
'Master, master!' he gurgled, 'let me go. I will swear any oath you
please--'
'And break it any moment YOU please,' returned Richard through his set
teeth, and caught with his other hand the coverlid, dragged it from the
bed, and, twisting it first round his face, flung the remainder about
his body; then, threatening to knock his brains out if he made the least
noise, proceeded to tie him up in it with his garters and its own
corners. No sound escaped poor Tom beyond a continuous mumbled entreaty
through its folds. Richard laid him on the floor, pulled all the bedding
upon the top of him, and gliding out, closed the door, but, to Tom's
unspeakable relief, as his ears, agonizedly listening, assured him, did
not lock it behind him.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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