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Chapter 15

Whence, and what art you?
Milton.

After exhausting a sleepless night in meditating on the intelligence I
had received, I was at first inclined to think that I ought, as speedily
as possible, to return to London, and by my open appearance repel the
calumny which had been spread against me. But I hesitated to take this
course on recollection of my father's disposition, singularly absolute in
his decisions as to all that concerned his family. He was most able,
certainly, from experience, to direct what I ought to do, and from his
acquaintance with the most distinguished Whigs then in power, had
influence enough to obtain a hearing for my cause. So, upon the whole, I
judged it most safe to state my whole story in the shape of a narrative,
addressed to my father; and as the ordinary opportunities of intercourse
between the Hall and the post-town recurred rarely, I determined to ride
to the town, which was about ten miles' distance, and deposit my letter
in the post-office with my own hands.

Indeed I began to think it strange that though several weeks had elapsed
since my departure from home, I had received no letter, either from my
father or Owen, although Rashleigh had written to Sir Hildebrand of his
safe arrival in London, and of the kind reception he had met with from
his uncle. Admitting that I might have been to blame, I did not deserve,
in my own opinion at least, to be so totally forgotten by my father; and
I thought my present excursion might have the effect of bringing a letter
from him to hand more early than it would otherwise have reached me. But
before concluding my letter concerning the affair of Morris, I failed not
to express my earnest hope and wish that my father would honour me with a
few lines, were it but to express his advice and commands in an affair of
some difficulty, and where my knowledge of life could not be supposed
adequate to my own guidance. I found it impossible to prevail on myself
to urge my actual return to London as a place of residence, and I
disguised my unwillingness to do so under apparent submission to my
father's will, which, as I imposed it on myself as a sufficient reason
for not urging my final departure from Osbaldistone Hall, would, I
doubted not, be received as such by my parent. But I begged permission to
come to London, for a short time at least, to meet and refute the
infamous calumnies which had been circulated concerning me in so public a
manner. Having made up my packet, in which my earnest desire to vindicate
my character was strangely blended with reluctance to quit my present
place of residence, I rode over to the post-town, and deposited my letter
in the office. By doing so, I obtained possession, somewhat earlier than
I should otherwise have done, of the following letter from my friend Mr.
Owen:--

"Dear Mr. Francis,

"Yours received per favour of Mr. R. Osbaldistone, and note the contents.
Shall do Mr. R. O. such civilities as are in my power, and have taken him
to see the Bank and Custom-house. He seems a sober, steady young
gentleman, and takes to business; so will be of service to the firm.
Could have wished another person had turned his mind that way; but God's
will be done. As cash may be scarce in those parts, have to trust you
will excuse my enclosing a goldsmith's bill at six days' sight, on
Messrs. Hooper and Girder of Newcastle, for L100, which I doubt not will
be duly honoured.--I remain, as in duty bound, dear Mr. Frank, your very
respectful and obedient servant,

"Joseph Owen.

"_Postscriptum._--Hope you will advise the above coming safe to hand. Am
sorry we have so few of yours. Your father says he is as usual, but looks
poorly."


From this epistle, written in old Owen's formal style, I was rather
surprised to observe that he made no acknowledgment of that private
letter which I had written to him, with a view to possess him of
Rashleigh's real character, although, from the course of post, it seemed
certain that he ought to have received it. Yet I had sent it by the usual
conveyance from the Hall, and had no reason to suspect that it could
miscarry upon the road. As it comprised matters of great importance both
to my father and to myself, I sat down in the post-office and again wrote
to Owen, recapitulating the heads of my former letter, and requesting to
know, in course of post, if it had reached him in safety. I also
acknowledged the receipt of the bill, and promised to make use of the
contents if I should have any occasion for money. I thought, indeed, it
was odd that my father should leave the care of supplying my necessities
to his clerk; but I concluded it was a matter arranged between them. At
any rate, Owen was a bachelor, rich in his way, and passionately attached
to me, so that I had no hesitation in being obliged to him for a small
sum, which I resolved to consider as a loan, to be returned with my
earliest ability, in case it was not previously repaid by my father; and
I expressed myself to this purpose to Mr. Owen. A shopkeeper in a little
town, to whom the post-master directed me, readily gave me in gold the
amount of my bill on Messrs. Hooper and Girder, so that I returned to
Osbaldistone Hall a good deal richer than I had set forth. This recruit
to my finances was not a matter of indifference to me, as I was
necessarily involved in some expenses at Osbaldistone Hall; and I had
seen, with some uneasy impatience, that the sum which my travelling
expenses had left unexhausted at my arrival there was imperceptibly
diminishing. This source of anxiety was for the present removed. On my
arrival at the Hall I found that Sir Hildebrand and all his offspring had
gone down to the little hamlet, called Trinlay-knowes, "to see," as
Andrew Fairservice expressed it, "a wheen midden cocks pike ilk ither's
barns out."

"It is indeed a brutal amusement, Andrew; I suppose you have none such in
Scotland?"

"Na, na," answered Andrew boldly; then shaded away his negative with,
"unless it be on Fastern's-e'en, or the like o' that--But indeed it's no
muckle matter what the folk do to the midden pootry, for they had siccan
a skarting and scraping in the yard, that there's nae getting a bean or
pea keepit for them.--But I am wondering what it is that leaves that
turret-door open;--now that Mr. Rashleigh's away, it canna be him, I
trow."

The turret-door to which he alluded opened to the garden at the bottom of
a winding stair, leading down from Mr. Rashleigh's apartment. This, as I
have already mentioned, was situated in a sequestered part of the house,
communicating with the library by a private entrance, and by another
intricate and dark vaulted passage with the rest of the house. A long
narrow turf walk led, between two high holly hedges, from the turret-door
to a little postern in the wall of the garden. By means of these
communications Rashleigh, whose movements were very independent of those
of the rest of his family, could leave the Hall or return to it at
pleasure, without his absence or presence attracting any observation. But
during his absence the stair and the turret-door were entirely disused,
and this made Andrew's observation somewhat remarkable.

"Have you often observed that door open?" was my question.

"No just that often neither; but I hae noticed it ance or twice. I'm
thinking it maun hae been the priest, Father Vaughan, as they ca' him.
Ye'll no catch ane o' the servants gauging up that stair, puir frightened
heathens that they are, for fear of bogles and brownies, and lang-nebbit
things frae the neist warld. But Father Vaughan thinks himself a
privileged person--set him up and lay him down!--I'se be caution the
warst stibbler that ever stickit a sermon out ower the Tweed yonder, wad
lay a ghaist twice as fast as him, wi' his holy water and his idolatrous
trinkets. I dinna believe he speaks gude Latin neither; at least he disna
take me up when I tell him the learned names o' the plants."

Of Father Vaughan, who divided his time and his ghostly care between
Osbaldistone Hall and about half a dozen mansions of Catholic gentlemen
in the neighbourhood, I have as yet said nothing, for I had seen but
little. He was aged about sixty--of a good family, as I was given to
understand, in the north--of a striking and imposing presence, grave in
his exterior, and much respected among the Catholics of Northumberland as
a worthy and upright man. Yet Father Vaughan did not altogether lack
those peculiarities which distinguish his order. There hung about him an
air of mystery, which, in Protestant eyes, savoured of priestcraft. The
natives (such they might be well termed) of Osbaldistone Hall looked up
to him with much more fear, or at least more awe, than affection. His
condemnation of their revels was evident, from their being discontinued
in some measure when the priest was a resident at the Hall. Even Sir
Hildebrand himself put some restraint upon his conduct at such times,
which, perhaps, rendered Father Vaughan's presence rather irksome than
otherwise. He had the well-bred, insinuating, and almost flattering
address peculiar to the clergy of his persuasion, especially in England,
where the lay Catholic, hemmed in by penal laws, and by the restrictions
of his sect and recommendation of his pastor, often exhibits a reserved,
and almost a timid manner in the society of Protestants; while the
priest, privileged by his order to mingle with persons of all creeds, is
open, alert, and liberal in his intercourse with them, desirous of
popularity, and usually skilful in the mode of obtaining it.

Father Vaughan was a particular acquaintance of Rashleigh's, otherwise,
in all probability, he would scarce have been able to maintain his
footing at Osbaldistone Hall. This gave me no desire to cultivate his
intimacy, nor did he seem to make any advances towards mine; so our
occasional intercourse was confined to the exchange of mere civility. I
considered it as extremely probable that Mr. Vaughan might occupy
Rashleigh's apartment during his occasional residence at the Hall; and
his profession rendered it likely that he should occasionally be a tenant
of the library. Nothing was more probable than that it might have been
his candle which had excited my attention on a preceding evening. This
led me involuntarily to recollect that the intercourse between Miss
Vernon and the priest was marked with something like the same mystery
which characterised her communications with Rashleigh. I had never heard
her mention Vaughan's name, or even allude to him, excepting on the
occasion of our first meeting, when she mentioned the old priest and
Rashleigh as the only conversable beings, besides herself, in
Osbaldistone Hall. Yet although silent with respect to Father Vaughan,
his arrival at the Hall never failed to impress Miss Vernon with an
anxious and fluttering tremor, which lasted until they had exchanged one
or two significant glances.

Whatever the mystery might be which overclouded the destinies of this
beautiful and interesting female, it was clear that Father Vaughan was
implicated in it; unless, indeed, I could suppose that he was the agent
employed to procure her settlement in the cloister, in the event of her
rejecting a union with either of my cousins,--an office which would
sufficiently account for her obvious emotion at his appearance. As to the
rest, they did not seem to converse much together, or even to seek each
other's society. Their league, if any subsisted between them, was of a
tacit and understood nature, operating on their actions without any
necessity of speech. I recollected, however, on reflection, that I had
once or twice discovered signs pass betwixt them, which I had at the time
supposed to bear reference to some hint concerning Miss Vernon's
religious observances, knowing how artfully the Catholic clergy maintain,
at all times and seasons, their influence over the minds of their
followers. But now I was disposed to assign to these communications a
deeper and more mysterious import. Did he hold private meetings with Miss
Vernon in the library? was a question which occupied my thoughts; and if
so, for what purpose? And why should she have admitted an intimate of the
deceitful Rashleigh to such close confidence?

These questions and difficulties pressed on my mind with an interest
which was greatly increased by the impossibility of resolving them. I had
already begun to suspect that my friendship for Diana Vernon was not
altogether so disinterested as in wisdom it ought to have been. I had
already felt myself becoming jealous of the contemptible lout Thorncliff,
and taking more notice, than in prudence or dignity of feeling I ought to
have done, of his silly attempts to provoke me. And now I was
scrutinising the conduct of Miss Vernon with the most close and eager
observation, which I in vain endeavoured to palm on myself as the
offspring of idle curiosity. All these, like Benedick's brushing his hat
of a morning, were signs that the sweet youth was in love; and while my
judgment still denied that I had been guilty of forming an attachment so
imprudent, she resembled those ignorant guides, who, when they have led
the traveller and themselves into irretrievable error, persist in
obstinately affirming it to be impossible that they can have missed the
way.

Sir Walter Scott