English literature -- England -- Lancashire; Legends -- England -- Lancashire
"Have there been no tidings yet from Alice? Can thine art not disclose
to me whither she be gone?"
"The maiden lives," said the beggar doggedly.
"Thou knowest of her hiding, then?" said her brother sharply, and with
a cunning glance directed towards the speaker.
"The spirit said so," replied Noman, as though wishful to evade or to
shrink from the question.
"And what else?" inquired the other; "for by my halidome thou stirrest
not hence until she be forthcoming, alive or dead! I verily
suspect--nay, more, I charge thee with forcibly detaining her against
her own privity or consent."
The beggar looked steadily upon him, not a whit either moved or
abashed at this bold accusation.
"Peradventure thou speakest without heed and unadvisedly. I tell thee
again, thou wouldest have been driven hence ere now had it not been
for others whom that spirit must obey."
"Who art thou?" said the perplexed inquirer; "for thou art either
worse or better than thou seemest."
"Once the rightful heir, now a beggar, in these domains, wrested from
me by rapine and the harpy fangs of injustice misnamed law. Theophilus
Ashton, from whom ye took your share of the inheritance when death
dislodged it from his gripe, won it himself most foully from my
ancestors;--and have I not a right to hate thee?"
"And so thy vengeance hath fallen upon a defenceless woman?"
"Nay, I said not so; but if I had so minded I might have been glutted
with vengeance, ay, to my heart's core. Hark thee. Secrets I have
learned that will bind the hidden things of darkness, and bow them to
my behest. The unseen powers and operations of nature have been open
to my gaze. Long ago my converse and companionship were with the
learned doctors and sages of the East. In Spain I have walked in the
palace of the Moorish kings, the Alhambra at Grenada; and in Arabia I
have learned the mystic cabala, and worshipped in the temple of the
holy prophet!"
"And yet thou comest a beggar to my door! Truly thy spells have
profited thee little."
The beggar smiled scornfully. "Riches inexhaustible, unlimited are
mine; while nature is unveiled at my command."
"Thou speakest riddles, old man; or thou dost hug the very spectres of
thy brain, which men call madness."
"I am not mad; save it be madness that I have not hurled thee from
this thy misgotten heritage. A power of mighty and all prevading
energy hath hindered me, and, it may be, rescued thee from
destruction."
"Unto what unknown intercessor do I owe this forbearance?"
"Love!" said the mendicant, with an expression of withering and
baneful scorn; "a silly hankering for a puling girl."
"Thee!--in love?"
"And is it so strange, so hard and incapable of belief, that in a
frosty but vigorous age, the sap should be fresh though the outward
trunk look withered and without verdure?"
Nicholas shuddered. A harrowing suspicion crossed him that his beloved
sister had fallen a victim to the lawless passions of this hoary
delinquent.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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