King of the Castle

“Nothing,” whispered back Mary bitterly; “only wait.”

The wind increased, setting in more and more for one of the western gales. The rain beat at the windows and the storm came in fierce squalls, as if to tear down the unhappy house; but hours went by, and Claude had not moved, remaining plunged in a kind of stupor more than sleep.

And so the weary hours went on, broken only by the sound of an opening or closing-door, and faintly heard voices which made the watchers start and glance anxiously towards the door in anticipation of Glyddyr’s coming; but he did not leave the dining-room, and Trevithick remained still in the library, where, through Woodham’s forethought, refreshments had been taken to him twice.

As the night closed in, a lamp was lit, and a screen drawn before the table where it stood so as to leave the spot where Claude lay back in darkness, and once more the watchers sat waiting.

It was about eight o’clock, when, after for the twentieth time stealing across to her cousin’s side, and returning, Mary placed her lips to Woodham’s ear.

“I am getting frightened at her state,” she whispered; “surely we ought to send over for the doctor.”

“No, my dear,” said Woodham sadly. “Let her rest. It will be better than anything the doctor can do.”

“Woodham,” whispered Mary again, “it seems horrible to say, but I feel as if I could poison that man and set her free.”

Sarah Woodham’s jaw dropped, and as she sank back, Mary could see that her eyes were wide and staring.

“Sarah, you foolish woman, don’t take what I say like that.”

The woman struggled to recover herself, and she gasped —

“It was so horrible, Miss Mary; for thoughts like that came to me.”

“But, Sarah,” whispered Mary, “I did not think of it before; when she wakes, if she is wild like that again, there is some of poor uncle’s medicine in the library – there is a bottle of that chloral that had not been opened. Would it be wise to give her some of it to make her calm?”

“Miss Mary!” gasped Woodham, as she pressed her hand to her side. “Hush! Don’t! You – oh, pray, pray, don’t talk of that!”

Mary looked at her wonderingly, the woman’s excitement seemed so wild and strange.

“No, it would not be wise,” she said.

At that moment there was the sound of the dining-room door being opened, and Claude sprang to her feet.

“Mary! Woodham!” she panted. “He is coming.”

“Claude! Claude, darling!” cried Mary, with a sob, as she flew to her cousin’s arms.

“Keep Woodham here too. He’s coming! Do you hear?”

“But, Claude, dearest, he is master here. You made him so. You are his wife.”

“Yes, Mary. I was blind and mad. I forced myself to it, thinking it must be my father’s will – my duty to the dead. But it is too horrible. Chris could not have done this thing.”

“No, no, my poor darling; he could not have been so vile.”

And as the cousins clung together, Mary felt the heart that beat against hers fluttering like that of some prisoner bird. There was the sound of an angry voice in the hall, and then a door was opened.

“Oh, you’re there, are you?”

“Yes, Mr Glyddyr, I am here.”

“Then why didn’t you come into the dining-room like a man, not stop hiding there. What the hell do you mean?”

“Don’t go on like that, old fellow,” said another voice. “Here, come back into the dining-room. Mr Trevithick will join us, perhaps.”

“Hold your tongue, curse you! Here, you – you can go back into your hole; and as to you, Gellow, I know what I’m about. Come along.”

The voices died away, as if the speakers had gone back into the dining-room, and the door swung to.

“Ah!” ejaculated Claude, with a piteous sigh.

“I know what I’m about,” came loudly again, followed by the banging of a door and a step in the hall.

“Mary!”

“Claude, dear, you must. He is your husband.”

“And I love Chris still with all my heart.”

“Claude!” whispered Mary, as the door was thrown open, and Glyddyr strode in.

“Here, Claude, where are you? Why don’t you have more lights? Oh, there you are, and our little cousin, eh? Now, woman, you can go.”

Sarah Woodham gave her mistress one wild, pitying look, and then left the room.

“Ah, that’s better,” said Glyddyr, whose face was flushed, but his gait was steady, and there was an insolent smile upon his lips. “Only been obliged to entertain my best man,” he said, with a laugh; and he gave his head a shake, and suddenly stretched out a hand to steady himself. “But kept myself all right.”

It was plain to Mary that the man had been drinking heavily, and her spirit rose with indignation and horror, mingled with excitement at her cousin’s avowal.

“Mary, don’t leave me,” whispered Claude.

“Now, then, little one, you go and talk to the other fellows; I want to have a chat with my wife.”

He laughed in a low, chuckling way, for he had long ago mastered Gellow’s opposition, and been told to drink himself blind if he liked. And he had drunk till his miserable feeling of abject dread had been conquered for the moment, while, inured as he was to the use of brandy, he only seemed to be unsteady at times.

“Do you hear?” he said sharply. “Why don’t you go?”

“Claude, dearest, what shall I do?” whispered Mary.

“Stay with me, Mary, pray,” panted Claude. And she looked wildly round for a way of escape, her eyes resting last upon the window, which opened over a steep portion of the cliff.

“Oh! what are you thinking?” said Mary wildly.

“Ah!” exclaimed Glyddyr, with a savage expression crossing his face, “the window? No; he’s not there. Curse him! I could shoot him like a dog.”

Claude, covered her quivering face with her hands.

“Yes, madam, it’s time we came to a little explanation about that, and then we can go on happily. No trifling with me. – Now then,” he cried fiercely, “will you go?”