“‘Tis true,” continued the sexton, “I dared to give him this advice; and when you have heard me out, you will not, I am persuaded, think me so unreasonable as, at first, I may appear to be. I have been an unseen listener to your converse; not that I desire to pry into your secrets, far from it; I overheard you by accident. I applaud your resolution; but if you are inclined to sacrifice all for your lover’s weal, do not let the work be incomplete. Bind him not by oaths which he will regard as spiders’ webs, to be burst through at pleasure. You see, as well as I do, that he is bent on being lord of Rookwood; and, in truth, to an aspiring mind, such a desire is natural, is praiseworthy. It will be pleasant, as well as honourable, to efface the stain cast upon his birth. It will be an act of filial duty in him to restore his mother’s good name; and I, her father, laud his anxiety on that score; though, to speak truth, fair maid, I am not so rigid as your nice moralists in my view of human nature, and can allow a latitude to love, which their nicer scruples will not admit. It will be a proud thing to triumph over his implacable foe; and this he may accomplish—”
“Without marriage,” interrupted Sybil, angrily.
“True,” returned Peter; “yet not maintain it. May win it, but not wear it. You have said truly, the house of Rookwood is a fated house; and it hath been said likewise, that if he wed not one of his own kindred—that if Rook mate not with Rook, his possessions shall pass away from his hands. Listen to this prophetic quatrain:
“When the stray Rook shall perch on the topmost bough,
There shall be clamour and screeching, I trow,
But of right to, and rule of the ancient nest,
The Rook that with Rook mates shall hold him possest.
You hear what these quaint rhymes say. Luke is doubtless the stray Rook, and a fledgling hath flown hither from a distant country. He must take her to his mate, or relinquish her and ‘the ancient nest’ to his brother. For my own part, I disregard such sayings. I have little faith in prophecy and divination. I know not what Eleanor Mowbray, for so she is called, can have to do with the tenure of the estates of Rookwood. But if Luke Rookwood, after he has lorded it for a while in splendour, be cast forth again in rags and wretchedness, let him not blame his grandsire for his own want of caution.”
“Luke, I implore you, tell me,” said Sybil, who had listened, horror-stricken, to the sexton, shuddering, as it were, beneath the chilly influence of his malevolent glance, “is this true? Does fate depend upon Eleanor Mowbray? Who is she? What has she to do with Rookwood? Have you seen her? Do you love her?”
“I have never seen her,” replied Luke.
“Thank Heaven for that!” cried Sybil. “Then you love her not?”
“How were that possible?” returned Luke. “Do I not say I have not seen her?”
“Who is she, then?”
“This old man tells me she is my cousin. She is betrothed to my brother, Ranulph.”
“How?” ejaculated Sybil. “And would you snatch his betrothed from your brother’s arms? Would you do him this grievous wrong? Is it not enough that you must wrest from him that which he hath long deemed his own? And if he has falsely deemed it so, it will not make his loss the less bitter. If you do thus wrong your brother, do not look for happiness; do not look for respect; for neither will be your portion. Even this stony-hearted old man shrinks aghast at such a deed. His snake-like eyes are buried on the ground. See, I have moved even him.”
And in truth Peter did appear, for an instant, strangely moved.
“‘Tis nothing,” returned he, mastering his emotion by strong effort. “What is all this to me? I never had a brother. I never had aught—wife, child, or relative—that loved me. And I love not the world, nor the things of the world, nor those that inhabit the world. But I know what sways the world and its inhabitants; and that is SELF! AND SELF-INTEREST! Let Luke reflect on this. The key to Rookwood is Eleanor Mowbray. The hand that grasps hers, grasps those lands: thus saith the prophecy.”