King of the Castle

“No,” cried Mary, turning upon him so sharply that he dropped the hand he had raised to seize her by the shoulder. “How dare you come into my cousin’s presence like this? Shame upon you! She is ill – agitated – not fit to meet you now, and you dare to force your way to her like this – drunken as one of the quarrymen at his worst.”

“What!”

“Is this the gentleman who begged and pleaded and humbled himself to her? You shall not stop here now, master or no master – husband or no husband. She is my dear cousin, and – ”

“She is my wife,” thundered Glyddyr. “My slave if I like; and as for you – ”

“Oh, would that my uncle were alive to see his cruel work!”

Those last words were like a sharp blow in Glyddyr’s face, and he stepped back, looked quickly round, and a shudder ran through him as he turned pale. But it was momentary. The potent brandy was strong in its influence still, and he recovered himself.

“Bah! nonsense!” he cried, with the flush coming back into his face. “I’m not to be fooled like that. There; be off at once.”

He took a couple of steps forward.

“Come, Claude; there has been enough of this.”

Claude flinched away toward the window, and Mary sprang between them.

“Not while you are like this,” she cried.

Glyddyr uttered an angry snarl, seized Mary savagely by the arm, and gripped the frail limb so cruelly that, in spite of her determined courage, she uttered a piercing cry for help.

“Silence, you little vixen. – Hah!”

It was as if the arm of a giant had suddenly interposed, for Glyddyr was seized by John Trevithick, dashed staggering back, to totter three or four yards, catch at a little table to save himself, and drag it over with him in his fall.

“Curse you!” he roared, as he rose to his hands and knees; and then, uttering a wild cry of horror, he backed away from the picture he had dragged with him to the floor, one which had fallen, with its little velvet-covered table-easel to which it had been secured, on end, and close to his face.

It was as if Gartram had come back to him from the dead to interpose between him and his child; and, with that shriek of horror, Glyddyr fell over sidewise, his face contorted, his eyes staring, his teeth gnashing, and the foam gathering upon his lips.

“Take him away! take him away!” he shrieked, and then lay uttering strangely inhuman sounds as he writhed in the agonies of a fit.

Volume Three – Chapter Sixteen.

How John Trevithick hung about

For weeks Parry Glyddyr lay almost at the point of death, and there were times when Sarah Woodham shuddered and left the room, barring the door against all comers, as the poor wretch raved in his delirium about poison, and the dead coming back to torture him and drag him down.

His ravings were so frightful that at times the hard, stern woman was quite unnerved; but she refused all assistance, and returned to her post, keeping the young wife from being present at all such scenes.

Asher had sternly refused to attend him, after being present during one of Glyddyr’s fits of raving. So the rival from the upper part of the little Churchtown took his place, and after a week’s attendance laid before Claude and her friends the necessity for calling in further help.

The result was that the young wife insisted upon the presence of an eminent medical man from London, and was present afterwards when the great magnate had been in consultation.

“It is most painful, madam,” he said, “to have to speak out before you; but since you insist – ”

“Yes; I do insist,” said Claude firmly. “Let us all know the truth.”

“The truth is this, madam,” he said; “Mr Glyddyr – ”

He paused, and looked round the drawing-room, where Mary, Trevithick and Gellow were seated.

” – Mr Glyddyr, though apparently naturally of a good constitution, has completely shattered his health by terrible excesses in the use of stimulants. Our friend here, my brother practitioner, has done everything possible, and has accepted a few suggestions of mine which I hope will have good results.”

“But you will save his life, Doctor?” said Claude piteously.

“I hope yes, my dear madam. I think I can say you may rely upon our friend here. It will be a long and tedious recovery, no doubt, and afterwards it will rest with you to save him from the temptation of further indulgence. – And if he is not an idiot he will thank his stars for his fate,” added the great Doctor himself.

“And I will try so hard, so hard,” vowed Claude. “It was like a judgment upon me. Yes, I will try to be his good, true wife, and bring him back to a better life.”

Thus, on her knees that night, ere she lay down to rest.

“Talks, does he, of murder, eh?” said Gellow. “Yes, Mr Trevithick, they do at times. Never had DT, I suppose?”

“No, sir; I never had.”

“Good job for you. I had once, and that was enough for me. I didn’t swear off, but I swore a little way on. I’ve had ’em, sir. Snakes in your boots – blue-devils, things crawling all over you; it’s enough to make you shiver to think of it.”

“I suppose so.”

“You won’t believe me, but I couldn’t keep him away from the stuff.”

“Then he has been in the habit of drinking a great deal?”

“Great deal isn’t half big enough, sir.”

“Then don’t you think it would have been your duty to warn Miss Gartram of the character of the man she was about to wed?”

“Split on my friend; get up an action for slander; set the young lady against me; and perhaps have poor old Glyddyr knock me on the head. No, sir: I’m not that sort of man. There, good evening. If you want me, I shall be at the hotel. I seem to be the poor chap’s only friend, and I can’t go back to town till I see him safe.”

“I don’t like that man,” said Trevithick. “He has some hold on Glyddyr, I am sure.”

As the great doctor prophesied, it was a long, slow recovery, and there were returns of the delirium and horrible nights when Glyddyr appeared to be haunted by one who was always reproaching him for some deed, and Sarah Woodham would sit, looking at him wildly, and with the past and her oath to her dead husband slowly revolving in her mind.

Then the invalid began to mend, and became constant in his demands for Claude.

“Where is she?” he would ask with a quick, jealous eagerness if she were away from his room for an hour; and on her return from one of the walks necessary for her health, he would cross-examine her, gazing at her searchingly, as to where she had been and whom she had seen.

Claude had nothing to conceal, and she answered him quietly and without resentment; but she did not – and she knew it – allay the pang of mad jealousy in her husband’s breast.

“It is a judgment on me,” she used to say, “for I gave him cause.”

Time glided on, and Glyddyr began to be about, at first in an invalid chair, and then he was able to walk up and down a little on the terraces of the Fort; and as the rough fishermen of the place saw him, there was a quiet nudge passed on, as they said that the new King of the Castle was not like the old.

As he grew better, he looked a haggard, sallow being, with wild, restless eyes, which appeared to be always on the lookout for some anticipated danger or trouble, and the sight of Chris Lisle passing in the distance was sufficient at any time to make him turn angrily upon his wife, and, clinging to her arm, bid her help him in doors.

Claude never showed even that she was hurt, but bore his taunts and peevish remarks patiently, always with the same grave, calm pale face. But in the solitude of her own room, or when clasped in Mary’s arms, she sobbed wildly at times to relieve her overladen breast.