The Leaguer of Lathom by W. Harrison Ainsworth

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III

The Dying Earl

PASSING through Prescot, and crossing the old bridge over the Mersey at Warrington, built by the first Earl of Derby, Lord Strange and his attendants rode on at a rapid pace through Daresbury to Frodsham, where they roused the host of the Bear’s Paw, and halted for a few minutes to refresh their steeds.

This done, they galloped off again, and skirting the wide marshes between them and the Mersey, kept as near as they could to a range of lofty hills; then tracking the boundaries of Delamere Forest, they speeded on through Plemston and Mickle Trafford.

Day was just breaking as they approached Chester, and the castle and cathedral, with some of the loftier buildings, could be seen overtopping the walls of the ancient and picturesque city.

Shut and guarded during the night, the gates were not opened at that early hour, but it was not Lord Strange’s intention to enter the city.

Turning off on the right, he crossed the Roodee, where for upwards of a century races had been run, and jousts and other chivalrous sports held, and rode on till he came to a large mansion, situated on the banks of the river Dee.

“Is the earl, my father, still alive, Hyde?” cried Lord Strange to the porter, who came forth to meet him, as he rode up to the gateway.

“He is, my lord,” replied Hyde; “but I fear he is rapidly sinking.”

“Heaven be thanked I am in time,” exclaimed his lordship.

And, springing from his horse, he entered the house.

Few of the household had retired to rest on that night, and Lord Strange found Warburton, the butler, and three or four other servants, collected in the hall, expecting his arrival.

Warburton gave the same report of the earl’s condition that Hyde, the porter, had done, stating that he had just been in his lordship’s room with some chicken broth, but he would not touch it.

“Doctor Gerard, the physician, and Mr. Hargrave, the chaplain, are now with him, my lord,” said the butler; “and I could tell what they thought by their looks.”

“Take me at once to the chamber, Warburton,” said Lord Strange.

In a large carved oak bedstead, with heavy hangings, propped up by pillows, lay the dying earl.

His countenance still retained its noble outline, but the features were thin and sharpened and of a deathly hue.

His hands were clasped upon his breast, his eyes turned upwards, and he was evidently repeating a prayer, which Mr. Hargrave, the chaplain, an elderly man, seated near the bedside, was reading to him.

The tapers that had been burning throughout the night had only just been extinguished, and the window curtains drawn back, so as to admit the light of day, but the early sunbeams that fell upon the arras and oak panels gave no cheerfulness to the room. On the contrary, they made the picture even more painful by force of contrast.

In a large easy-chair sat Doctor Gerard, apparently dozing, but ever and anon he opened his eyes to look towards the bed.

The entrance of Lord Strange was so quiet that it did not attract the earl’s notice, and he remained for some moments gazing at his father.

During this interval, Doctor Gerard, receiving a sign to that effect, did not quit his seat, and Mr. Hargrave went on with the prayer.

At length Lord Strange advanced towards the bed, and taking the earl’s hand said:

“Father, I am here.”

Something like a smile lighted up the dying nobleman’s pallid countenance.

“I knew you would come, my son,” he murmured.

“Shall we leave the room, my lord?” inquired the chaplain, addressing Lord Strange. “The earl has something to say to you in private.”

“I pray you do so, good Master Hargrave,” said, Lord Strange. “But remain without with Doctor Gerard,” he added in a lower tone.

The chaplain bowed and went out with the physician.

“We are alone, father,” said Lord Strange.

“Come as near to me as you can, or you will not hear my words,” said the earl, placing his arm over his son’s neck, and regarding him with a loving and pitying look. “I am much troubled in mind concerning you. It seems to me that I can look into the future, and I have a sad foreboding that all your possessions will be taken from you, and that a tragical death awaits you.”

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