Preston Fight by W. Harrison Ainsworth

What had happened while she slumbered? And how came the tapers to be extinguished?

Very much alarmed, she started to her feet, and somehow-though she scarcely knew how-made her way to the door.

It was fastened. Father Norman must have locked it when he went out.

She was thus to be kept in that dreadful place-for dreadful it now seemed to her-till his return at midnight.

She could not guess the hour, but she might have to wait long-very long! Moments seemed ages now. Her terror was insupportable.

Just then she heard the castle clock, and counted the strokes.

Eleven! Another agonising hour had to be borne!-another hour!-when five minutes had been intolerable!

Rendered desperate by terror, she went back to the altar, and kneeling down once more, prayed for deliverance.

Becoming somewhat calmer, she felt ashamed of her weakness, and tried to persuade herself that the tapers might have gone out by accident. The notion gave her momentary courage.

But her fears returned with greater force than before as she heard a deep sigh, seemingly proceeding from some one close beside her, and she fancied she discerned a dusky figure.

“Who is there?” she cried. “Is it you, holy father?”

No answer was returned, but a slight sound was heard, and the figure seemed to retreat.

She heard and saw no more.

Uttering a cry, she fell senseless at the foot of the altar, where she was found shortly afterwards by Father Norman and her mother.

The former having brought the lantern with him, her situation was perceived at once, and the prompt application of a smelling-bottle by Lady Webb quickly restored her to consciousness. She was able to walk back to the mansion, but begged not to be questioned as to the cause of her fright till the morrow, when she should have quite recovered from its effects.

|Go To Table of Contents|

XII

A Letter from the Earl of Mar

NEXT morning she related the mysterious occurrence to them both, but they treated it very lightly, though neither could understand how the tapers had been extinguished. All the rest they regarded as the effect of an over-excited imagination.

“No one could have entered the chapel,” remarked the priest. “I locked the door, and took the key with me. However, you must dismiss all these thoughts from your mind, daughter. To-day the chapel will present a very different appearance from what it did last night.”

“Yes-it will be the scene of your betrothal,” said Lady Webb.

“I would rather the ceremony took place elsewhere,” said Anna.

“It cannot be,” said Father Norman. “His lordship has arranged the matter. The prince will be present, and it would be a great disappointment to the household to be deprived of the sight.”

“It would also be a great disappointment to Sir John and myself,” observed Lady Webb. “Besides, there are several guests in the castle who ought not to be excluded. For many reasons, therefore, there must be no change in the plan.”

“Don’t say a word, mamma,” said Anna. “I am quite convinced. My objections were ridiculous. The morning is delightful, and a walk in the garden will set me quite right.”

“You will find Lord Derwentwater, his majesty, and almost all the company assembled on the lawn,” said Lady Webb. “Come, I will take you thither. Perhaps, Father Norman will accompany us.”

“With the greatest pleasure,” replied the priest.

On Anna’s appearance, Lord Derwentwater, who was standing with the company on the terrace, came forward to meet her; and as he approached, he remarked that she looked very pale. This did not detract from her beauty, but rather gave interest to her countenance-at least, in his eyes. He made some slight allusion to the circumstance, but she laughed it off.

Not much passed between them, for the prince presently came up to offer her his greetings, and by this time her cheek was flushed.

“I have news for you, fair lady,” said his highness, “and I desire to be the first to communicate it. I do not mean to rob you of your lover, so you may rest quite easy on that score. My proposed journey to London will not be undertaken. A messenger has just arrived at the castle bringing me a letter from the Earl of Mar, Secretary of State to Queen Anne. His lordship had engaged that I should see the queen, and led me to hope that great results would follow from the interview. These confident expectations are now at an end, and my project must be given up. Lord Mar writes that the queen, forgetful of her promises, refuses to receive me, and that if I should present myself at Saint James’s Palace, he will not answer for my safety. Under such circumstances, it would be madness to make the attempt. It is well that I arranged with the Earl of Mar to write to me here, as if I had not heard from him, I should have started on the journey. What might then have befallen me I know not. Perchance, imprisonment in the Tower, in the hope of compelling me to relinquish my pretentions to the crown-but that I never would have done.”