The Scottish Cavalier: An Historical Romance, Volume 3 (of 3)Grant, James
History
The Scottish Cavalier: An Historical Romance, Volume 3 (of 3)
Grant, James
Scotland -- History -- 1649-1660 -- Fiction
Weariness overcame her, and she was about to drop asleep, when a
sound was heard, and one of the doors of the cabinet rattled and
opened; a cold wind blew upon her face; and by her recumbent
position, she beheld a steep staircase winding away down into
darkness she knew not where, between the masonry of the massive wall.
She would have screamed, but terror chained her tongue; and almost
fainting, and afraid to move or breathe, she continued to regard it
with the most painful anguish and intense alarm. But up that dark
and mysterious outlet, so suddenly disclosed, no sound came but the
night wind, which moved the oak door of the cabinet mournfully to and
fro.
Lilian's strength seemed utterly to have left her; and, though
painfully anxious to learn the secrets of this staircase, which
communicated so immediately with her bedchamber, she lacked equally
strength to rise, and presence of mind to examine it.
But the current of air that swayed the door to and fro, closed it;
the sound rumbled away in the far echoes of the tower, and all became
still. Now more alarmed by the reflection that she was sleeping in
this remote room alone, with a secret entrance, she bitterly
regretted her imprudence in undressing, but had not the courage to
rise and repair what a certain prophetic apprehension made her fear
had been very unwise.
Excessive lassitude at last completely overcame her, and she
slumbered.
CHAPTER V.
THE ATTEMPT.
Once in a lone and secret hour of night,
When every eye was closed, and the pale moon
And stars alone shone conscious of the theft,
Hot with the Tuscan grape, and high in blood,
Haply I stole unheeded to her chamber.
FAIR PENITENT.
When Clermistonlee retired from the hall to the study or parlour,
which was the only comfortably furnished apartment in the dreary old
tower, he resigned himself to reflection, and sipping his mulled
sack, a great tankard of which Juden placed unbidden, and quite as a
matter of course, at his elbow. His thoughts at first ran in the
usual channel,--a determination to possess Lilian, from the double
incentives of passion and pecuniary necessity. He was on the brink
of ruin; and her property, or expectations of it, were ample and
noble. She was very unprotected; the land was convulsed and
trembling on the verge of a great civil war, though as yet no tidings
had reached Edinburgh of what was passing in England; and so, as the
sack diminished in the tankard, his lordship's thoughts became in
proportion more strange, more amorous, and confused. His brain
wandered. He was restless and uneasy; his flowing dressing-gown
seemed to fit him like a horse-hair shirt; and his disturbed manner
was not unobserved by his faithful and subservient factotum.
The latter attempted some consolation, after his fashion; but it was
not palatable.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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