Rookwood

“ Upon a further signal from Alan, Eleanor was torn from her mother's arms, and a bandage passed so suddenly over Mrs. Mowbray's face, that, before she could raise a cry of alarm, all possibility of utterance was effectually prevented. The priest alone was left at liberty.
Barbara snatched the hand of Eleanor. She dragged her to Sybil.
"You are Lady Rookwood," whispered she; "but she has your domains. I give her to you."
"She is the only bar between thy husband and his rights," whispered Alan Rookwood, in a tone of horrible irony; "it is not too late to repair your wrong." ”

“ Poor Sir Piers! I'd mumble a prayer for him, if I durst."
"Leave me," said Lady Rookwood, impatiently.
And Agnes quitted the room.
"What if the dead can return?" thought Lady Rookwood. "All men doubt it, yet all men believe it. I would not believe it, were there not a creeping horror that overmasters me, when I think of the state beyond the grave—that intermediate state, for such it must be, when the body lieth mouldering in the ground, and the soul survives, to wander, unconfined, until the hour of doom. And doth the soul survive when disenthralled? Is it dependent on the body? ”

“ Francis; and those strange personages are a horde of gipsies. You need fear no injury from them."
"My deliverer!" murmured Eleanor; when all at once the recollection that he had avowed himself a Rookwood, and the elder brother of Ranulph, flashed across her memory. "Gipsies! did you not say these people were gipsies? Your own attire is the same as theirs. You are not, cannot be, the brother of Ranulph."
"I do not boast the same mother," returned Luke, proudly, "but my father was Sir Piers Rookwood, and I am his elder born." ”

“ Follow me, and, for your lives, don't move a step but as I direct you. The word must be, 'Sir Piers Rookwood calls.' We'll overhaul the swag here. This crack may make us all for life; and if you'll follow my directions implicitly, we'll do the trick in style. This slum must be our rendezvous when all's over; for hark ye, my lads, I'll not budge an inch till Luke Bradley be set free. He's an old friend, and I always stick by old friends. ”

“ Lady Rookwood frowned. She would have checked him, but Luke rejoined—
"You have spoken the truth; he had a son—I am he. I——"
"Be silent, I command you!" said Lady Rookwood.
"Death!" cried Luke, in a loud voice. "Why should I be [113] silent at your bidding—at yours—who regard no laws, human or divine; who pursue your own fell purposes, without fear of God or man? Waste not your frowns on me—I heed them not. Do you think I am like a tame hound, to be cowed to silence? I will speak. Ranulph Rookwood, the name you bear is mine, and by a right as good as is your own. ”

“ The valley was approached in this direction from Rookwood by an unfrequented carriage-road, which Luke had, from prudential reasons, avoided. All seemed consecrated to silence—to solitude—to the hush of nature; yet this quiet scene was the chosen retreat of lawless depredators, and had erstwhile been the theatre of feudal oppression. We have said that no habitation was visible; that no dwelling tenanted by man could be seen ”

“ Checkley had been brought before the body of Susan Rookwood. Even in the gloom, the shimmer of the white cereclothes, [322] and the pallid features of the corpse, were ghastly enough. The torchlight made them terrible.
"Kneel!" said Alan Rookwood. The priest complied. Alan knelt beside him.
"Do you know these features?" demanded he. "Regard them well. Fix your eyes full upon them. Do you know them?"
"I do."
"Place your hand upon her breast. Does not the flesh creep and shrink beneath your touch? Now raise your hand—make the cross of your faith upon her bosom. ”

“ One only amongst the race, whose name I have cast off, have I loved; and him—because," added he, with something like emotion—"because he was my daughter's child—Luke Rookwood. And even he shall minister [312] to my vengeance. He will be your curse—your daughter's curse—for he loves her not. Yet he is her husband, and hath her land;—ha, ha!" And he laughed till he became convulsed with the paroxysm of fiendish exultation.
"Mine ears are stunned," cried Mrs. Mowbray.
"The bride is mine; relinquish her to me," said Barbara. "Advance and seize her, my children." ”

“ He must die!"
"The document?"
"Will be useless then."
"Will not that suffice; why aim at life?"
"You trifle with me. You fear to do it."
"Fear!"
"About it, then; you shall have more gold."
"I will about it," cried Jack, throwing the casket to Wilder, and seizing Lady Rookwood's hands. "I am no Italian bravo, madam—no assassin—no remorseless cut-throat. What are you—devil or woman—who ask me to do this? Luke Bradley, I say."
"Would you betray me?" cried Lady Rookwood.
"You have betrayed yourself, madam. Nay, nay, Luke, hands off. See, Lady Rookwood, how you would treat a friend. ”

“ He longed to commune with himself. Leaping the small boundary-wall, which defended the churchyard from a deep green lane, he hurried along in a direction contrary to that taken by the sexton, making the best of his way until he arrived at a gap in the high-banked hazel hedge which overhung the road. Heedless of the impediments thrown in his way by the undergrowth of a rough ring fence, he struck through the opening that presented itself, and, climbing over the moss-grown paling, trod presently upon the elastic sward of Rookwood Park. ”

“ 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."
"Beware!" said Luke to Ranulph, who was preparing to obey his mother's commands; "I am no robber—no murderer. Do not you make me a fratricide."
"Fratricide!" echoed Ranulph.
"Heed him not," ejaculated Lady Rookwood. "It is false—he dares not harm thee, for his soul. I will call assistance."
"Hold, mother!" exclaimed Ranulph, detaining Lady Rookwood; "this man may be what he represents himself. ”

“ But, as it was deemed improbable by Lady Rookwood that her son could return within any reasonable space, she gave directions for the accomplishment of the funeral rites of her husband on the sixth night after his decease—it being the custom of the Rookwoods ever to inter their dead at midnight,—intrusting their solemnization entirely to the care of one of Sir Piers's hangers-on—Dr. Titus Tyrconnel,—for which she was greatly scandalized in the neighborhood.
Ranulph Rookwood was a youth of goodly promise. The stock from which he sprang would on neither side warrant such conclusion. ”

“ Rookwood declares he is more contented with his son's choice than if he married Mistress Spencer, or any other heiress; and beshrew me, if I be not contented also."
Then he bent his head close to mine ear, and whispered, "And so art thou, methinks, if those tell-tale eyes of thine should be credited. Yea, yea, hang down thy head, and stammer 'As you please, sir!' And never so much as a Deo gratias for thy good fortune! What thankless creatures women be!" ”

“ 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 will not secure your safety, while it will aggravate your offence. Surrender yourself——"
"Never!" answered Luke. "Know you whom you ask to yield?" ”

“ Rookwood, and they immediately flew to their husbands. The rest of the conspirators walked away, and averted their gaze from the painful scene. After an ineffectual attempt to speak, Lady Digby swooned away, and was committed by her husband, while in a state of insensibility, to the care of an attendant. Mrs. Rookwood, however, who was a woman of high spirit, and great personal attractions, though the latter were now wasted by affliction, maintained her composure, and encouraging her husband to bear up manfully against his situation, tenderly embraced him, and withdrew. ”

“ No woman ever stood in a Rookwood's way but she was speedily removed—that's certain. They had all, save poor Sir Piers, the knack of stopping a troublesome woman's tongue, and practised it to perfection. A rare art, eh?"
"What have the misdeeds of his ancestry to do with Sir Piers," muttered Luke, "much less with my mother?"
"Everything. If he could not rid himself of his wife—and she is a match for the devil himself—, the mistress might be more readily set aside." ”

“ I see the torchlight in the avenue; we are saved!"
"Hell and the devil!" cried Jack; "not an instant is to be lost. Alive, lads; bring off all the plunder you can; be handy!"
"Lady Rookwood, I bid you farewell," said Luke, in a tone in which scorn and sorrow were blended. "We shall meet again."
"We have not parted yet," returned she; "will you let this man pass? A thousand pounds for his life."
"Upon the nail?" asked Rust.
"By the living God, if any of you attempt to touch him, I will blow his brains out upon the spot, be he friend or foe," cried Jack. "Luke Bradley, we shall meet again. ”

“ My power is not departed from me. My people are yet at my command. I am still their queen, and woe to him that offendeth me!"
"Mother! mother!" cried Sybil, affrighted at the storm she had unwittingly aroused, "he has not injured me. 'Tis I alone who am to blame, not Luke."
"You speak in mysteries," said Barbara.
"Sir Piers Rookwood is dead."
"Dead!" echoed Barbara, letting fall her hazel rod. "Sir Piers dead!" ”

“ It won't pay. I'm one of the Canting Crew now; no man shall sneer at me with impunity, eh, Zory? Ha, ha! here's a glass of Nantz; we'll have a bottle of black strap when you are master of your own. Make ready there, you gut-scrapers, you shawm-shavers; I'll put your lungs in play for you presently. In the meantime—charge, pals, charge—a toast, a toast! Health and prosperity to Sir Luke Rookwood! I see you are surprised—this, gemmen, is Sir Luke Rookwood, somewhile Luke Bradley, heir to the house of that name, not ten miles distant from this. Say, shall we not drink a bumper to his health? ”

“ I am content to live—while living, to be feared—it may be, hated; when dead, to be contemned—yet still remembered. Ha! what sound was that? A stifled scream! Agnes!—without there! She is full of fears. I am not free from them myself, but I will shake them off. This will divert their channel," continued she, drawing from her bosom the marriage certificate. "This will arouse the torpid current of my blood—'Piers Rookwood to Susan Bradley.' And by whom was it solemnized? The name is Checkley—Richard Checkley. Ha! I bethink me—a Papist priest—a recusant—who was for some time an inmate of the hall. ”

“ A shot or two in self defence is another matter; and when——"
"A truce to this," interrupted Alan; "the girl is safe. Will you mount guard again?"
"If that be the case, certainly," replied Dick. "I shall be glad to get back to Bess. I couldn't bring her with me into this black hole. A couple of shots will tell you 'tis Ranulph Rookwood. But mind, no harm to the gipsy girl—to Lady Rookwood, I should say. She's a jewel, take my word for it, which Sir Luke must be mad to throw away." And calling his companions, he departed.
Alan Rookwood bent his steps towards the gipsy queen. ”

“ The gipsy's low-born daughter is no mate for Sir Luke Rookwood. Love cannot blind me, dear Luke. It cannot make me other than I am; it cannot exalt me in my own esteem, nor in that of the world, with which you, alas! too soon will mingle, and which will regard even me as—no matter what!—it shall not scorn me as your bride. I will not bring shame and reproach upon you. Oh! if for me, dear Luke, the proud ones of the earth were to treat you with contumely, this heart would break with agony. For myself, I have pride sufficient—perchance too much. Perchance 'tis pride that actuates me now. ”

“ At a signal from the sexton, Luke also was blindfolded. He ceased to struggle. But his laboring breast told of the strife within.
"Miscreants!" exclaimed the priest, who had hitherto witnessed the proceedings in horror. "Why do not these rocks fall in, and crush you and your iniquities? Save her! oh, save her! Have you no pity for the innocent?"
"Such pity have we," replied Alan Rookwood, "as you showed my daughter. She was as innocent as Eleanor Mowbray, and yet you did not pity her."
"Heaven is my witness," exclaimed the priest, "that I never injured her." ”

“ From his loins, who lies a corpse before us, I sprang. No brand of shame is on my birth. I am your father's son—his first-born—your elder brother. Hear me!" cried he, rushing to the bier. "By this body, I swear that I have avouched the truth—and though to me the dead Sir Piers Rookwood hath never been what a father should be to a son—though I have never known his smile, felt his caresses, or received his blessing, yet now be all forgiven, all forgotten." And he cast himself with frantic violence upon the coffin.
It is difficult to describe the feelings with which Ranulph heard Luke's avowal. ”

“ Of every Rookwood who lies around us—and all that ever bore the name, except Sir Piers himself—who lies in state at the hall—, are here—not one—mark what I say—not one male branch of the house but has been suspected——"
"Of what?"
"Of murder!" returned the sexton, in a hissing whisper.
"Murder!" echoed Luke, recoiling.
"There is one dark stain—one foul blot on all. Blood—blood hath been spilt."
"By all?"
"Ay, and such blood! theirs was no common crime. Even murder hath its degrees. ”