Rookwood. A Romance By W. HARRISON AINSWORTH

All was now in total obscurity; the countenance of neither could be perceived as they trod the dark passage; but Luke’s unrelaxed grasp indicated no change in his purposes, nor did the slow, dignified march of the lady betray any apprehension on her part. Descending a spiral staircase, which led from the gallery to a lower story, their way now lay beneath the entrance-hall, a means of communication little used. Their tread sounded hollowly on the flagged floor; no other sound was heard. Mounting a staircase, similar to the one they had just descended, they arrived at another passage. A few paces brought them to a door. Luke turned the handle, and they stood within the chamber of the dead.

The room which contained the remains of poor Sir Piers was arrayed in all that mockery of state, which, vainly attempting to deride death, is itself a bitter derision of the living. It was the one devoted to the principal meals of the day; a strange choice, but convenience had dictated its adoption by those with whom this part of the ceremonial had originated, and long custom had rendered its usage, for this purpose, almost prescriptive. This room, which was of some size, had originally formed part of the great hall, from which it was divided by a thick screen of black lustrously varnished oak, enriched with fanciful figures carved in bold relief. The walls were panelled with the same embrowned material, and sustained sundry portraits of the members of the family, in every possible costume, from the steely gear of Sir Ranulph, down to the flowing attire of Sir Reginald. Most of the race were ranged around the room; and, seen in the yellow light shed upon their features by the flambeaux, they looked like an array of stern and silent witnesses, gazing upon their departed descendant. The sides of the chamber were hung with black cloth, and upon a bier in the middle of the room rested the body. Broad escutcheons, decked out in glowing colours, pompously set forth the heraldic honours of the departed. Tall lights burnt at the head and feet, and fragrant perfumes diffused their odours from silver censers.

The entrance of Luke and his unwilling companion had been abrupt. The transition from darkness to the glare of light was almost blinding, and they had advanced far into the room ere Lady Rookwood perceived a man, whom she took to be one of the mutes, leaning over the bier. The coffin lid was entirely removed, and the person, whose back was towards them, appeared to be wrapt in mournful contemplation of the sad spectacle before him. Suddenly bursting from Luke’s hold, Lady Rookwood rushed forward with a scream, and touched the man’s shoulder. He started at the summons, and disclosed the features of her son!

Rapidly as her own act, Luke followed. He levelled a pistol at her head, but his hand dropped to his side, as he encountered the glance of Ranulph. All three seemed paralysed by surprise. Ranulph, in astonishment, extended his arm to his mother, who, placing one arm over his shoulder, pointed with the other to Luke; the latter stared sternly and enquiringly at both—yet none spoke.

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“Disobey me, and your blood be upon your own head.”

CHAPTER XIII

THE BROTHERS

WITH that quickness of perception, which at once supplies information on such an emergency, Luke instantly conjectured who was before him. Startled as he was, he yet retained his composure, abiding the result with his arms folded upon his breast.

“Seize him,” cried Lady Rookwood, as soon as she could command her speech.

“He rushes on his death if he stirs,” exclaimed Luke, pointing his pistol.

“Bethink you where you are, villain,” cried Ranulph; “you are entrapped in your own toils. Submit yourself to our mercy—resistance is vain, and I will not secure your safety, while it will aggravate your offence. Surrender yourself—”

“Never!” answered Luke. “Know you whom you ask to yield?”

“How should I?” answered Ranulph.

“By that instinct which tells me who you are. Ask Lady Rookwood—she can inform you, if she will.”

“Parley not with him—seize him,” cried Lady Rookwood. “He is a robber, a murderer, who has assailed my life.”

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