King of the Castle

His grip was like that of some machine as he gave Glyddyr's arm another wrench, and then marched him right away down the path to the harbour, and then along the pier to the end.

Before they reached this point, Glyddyr had made another feeble attempt to free himself, and there was a momentary struggle, which brought both to the edge of the south pier, where there was a fall into deep water.

"Come quietly, or, by all that's holy, I'll throw you in," said Chris hoa.r.s.ely; and Glyddyr ceased struggling, and suffered himself to be led to the end, where the crew of the yacht's gig were waiting, smoking, till their master came.

"Now," whispered Chris, "go and sleep off your drunken fit. Another time, when you can act and think like a man, we may both have something more to say."

He loosened his grip of Glyddyr's arm.

"Here, my lads," he said, "get your master aboard; he is not fit to be alone."

"Drunk or mad," said Chris to himself, as he strode quickly along the pier to get back to his own room, and try to grow calm.

"I suppose a man must feel like I did to-night," he thought, after a time, "when the devil comes into him, and he kills his enemy. If he had known what was in me then, he wouldn't have dared to say all that. But I'm better now."

Volume Three, Chapter II.

AT THE GRAVE.

All Danmouth gathered to see the funeral procession wind down the granite-paved path to the cliff, and then along by the harbour to the little church on the rock shelf at the entrance of the glen.

Gartram had been hated, but death had destroyed all petty dislikes, and the people only remembered now the many acts of charity he had performed.

It was unwittingly, and by proxy, for he never knew one half of the kindly actions done in his name, and as the procession wound through the place, there was many a wet eye among the lookers-on, and the saying that ran among the simple folks, quarrymen's and fishers' wives, was: "A hard man;" and then, "but oh, so generous and good."

It was against the etiquette of the sad ceremony, but Claude had said that she should follow her father to the grave, and the cousins walked behind the plain ma.s.sive coffin, swung at arm's-length by the handles, and carried by three relays of Gartram's stout quarrymen, all ready to say: "Yes, a good master after all."

Every blind was down, every one was in the street or along the cliff, for "The King of the Castle" was dead, and, for the most part, Danmouth seemed to have been made by him. So its people felt real sorrow for themselves as they said: "What is to be done now?"

On and on, with the slow tolling of the bell echoing right up the glen, and startling the white-breasted gulls which floated here and there, uttering their querulous cries as the procession wound its slow way on to the granite-built lych-gate--Gartram's gift; and as they pa.s.sed on to the church, Claude was conscious more than ever that Chris Lisle was standing bareheaded by the church door till they pa.s.sed, and then, through her tear-blinded eyes, she saw that Glyddyr was within, pale and ashen, as he rested one hand upon a pew door.

Then out to the wind-swept churchyard, and there, after a few minutes, it seemed to Claude that she was standing alone, to place a few flowers which she carried upon the hollow-sounding oaken case.

"Come," whispered a voice at her side, and she took the hand held out to her by her cousin, and was led away, feeling that she was

As the mourners went sadly away, Chris Lisle walked slowly up to the entrance of the vault, and stood gazing down at the s.h.i.+ning breastplate.

"Good-bye," he said softly. "I will not say I forgive you, only that you did not know me. It was a mistake."

As he moved away, he was aware of a ghastly countenance at a little distance, as Glyddyr stood watching him; but his attention was taken off directly by a tall, dark figure going slowly to the door of the vault, to stand there with hands clasped, and looking down.

He could not have told afterwards what it was that checked him from following the returning procession, but he stayed to watch that one figure, as, regardless of those around, it drooped for a moment, and then sank slowly upon its knees, and cover its face with its hands, and remain there as if weeping bitterly.

There was a group of rough quarrymen close at hand, all waiting to go up and have a last look at "the master," before discussing among themselves, once more, their project to cut and erect a granite pillar over Gartram's tomb.

They were so near Chris that he could hear the words, as one of the party said,--

"Poor Ike Woodham's widow. Ay, lads, she's lost the pride of her life once more. He was downright good to her when Woodham went."

Chris took a step or two forward, for the solitary figure attracted him, and then another and another, quietly, as he heard a low, piteous wail, and saw the woman rise tottering to her feet, swaying to and fro.

"Forgive me! oh, forgive me!" she sobbed; and then she threw up her hands to clutch at vacancy.

Another moment, and she would have fallen heavily into the great granite vault, but Chris was in time: he flung an arm round her, and s.n.a.t.c.hed her back insensible. She had swooned away, and had to be carried into the church till a vehicle had been procured; and Glyddyr had the satisfaction of seeing Chris enter the rough carriage and support the suffering woman till they reached the Fort.

"Thank you, Mr Chris," she said hurriedly; "I'm better now," and as he left her immediately, she hurried up to her room, opened her box, and poured out a portion of the contents of a phial into a gla.s.s.

Half an hour later, Claude was roused from her sad musings by one of the servants, who announced that Mrs Woodham was "took bad."

It was something to divert Claude's thoughts, and she hurried up to the bedroom to lay her hand upon the woman's burning brow.

"Are you in pain, Sarah?"

"Hah!"

A long sigh, as if the cool, soft hand had acted like a professors rod in an electrical experiment, and the pain had been discharged.

"No, no--no pain."

The woman's eyes were closed, now that she had taken hold of the hand that had seemed to give her rest, and clung to it, keeping it by her cheek as she half-turned over in her bed; while Claude sent word that she was going to stay there and watch. And there, in spite of Mary Dillon's prayers to let her stay, she did watch, and listen to Sarah Woodham's muttered words.

"At rest now," she cried twice. "Now he will sleep; or will he meet him face to face?"

Toward morning she slept calmly, and when, at daybreak, Mary stole into the room, exhaustion had done its work, and Claude was sleeping too.

Volume Three, Chapter III.

GLYDDYR REQUIRES A PICK-ME-UP.

"Guv'nor aboard?"

Glyddyr was seated in the cabin, restlessly smoking a cigar, and gazing through the open window at the Fort, where it stood up grey and glittering in the suns.h.i.+ne, and holding within it, protected by the memory of its builder, the two objects for which Parry Glyddyr longed.

He had made up his mind a dozen times over to go straight to the place and see Claude, but the recollection of that horrible night kept him back, and he gave up, to go on pacing the little saloon, talking to himself wildly.

For how, he said, could he approach Claude now--he, the destroyer of her father's life--go and ask her to listen to him, talk to her and try to lead her into thinking that, before long, she must become his wife--tell her that it was her duty, that it was her father's wish, when all the time it would seem to him that the mocking, angry spirit of the dead would be pervading his old home, looking at him furtively from his easy-chair, from his window and door, as he had seen him look a score of times before.

No: it was too horrible; he dared not.

Three times since Gartram's death he had, with great effort, written kindly letters--he could not go to the Fort and speak--telling Claude that she was not to think him unfeeling for not calling upon her, but to attribute it to a delicacy upon his part--a desire not to intrude upon her at such a time; and that he was going away for a cruise, but would shortly be back, then he would call.

Three times he did set sail, and as many times did he come back into the harbour after being out for a few hours, to the disgust of the crew.

"The skipper's mad," they said; "drinks a deal too much, and he'll have the 'horrors' if he don't mind. He used to be able to cruise a bit, and now, if there's a screw loose in the engine, she careens over, or there's a cloud to wind'ard, he's back into port, and here we are getting rusty for want of a run."

It was always so. So soon as they were a few miles away, Glyddyr saw his rival taking advantage of his absence, and winning Claude over to his side, and with her the wealth that was to have been his.

"If I hadn't been such a fool," he would mutter, "I might have had it easy enough." And he would sit day after day watching the Fort with his double gla.s.s, thinking of the wealth lying there--how easily it could be s.n.a.t.c.hed by foul means, seeing how well he knew the place.