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HER BED-CHAMBER.
Lady Arctura opened the door of her bedroom. Donal glanced round it.
It was as old-fashioned as the other.
"What is behind that press there--wardrobe, I think you call it?" he
asked.
"Only a recess," answered lady Arctura. "The press, I am sorry to
say, is too high to get into it."
Possibly had the press stood in the recess, the latter would have
suggested nothing; but having caught sight of the opening behind the
press, Donal was attracted by it. It was in the same wall with the
fireplace, but did not seem formed by the projection of the chimney,
for it did not go to the ceiling.
"Would you mind if I moved the wardrobe a little on one side?" he
asked.
"Do what you like," she answered.
Donal moved it, and found the recess rather deep for its size. The
walls of the room were wainscotted to the height of four feet or so,
but the recess was bare. There were signs of hinges on one, and of a
bolt on the other of the front edges: it had seemingly been once a
closet, whose door continued the wainscot. There were no signs of
shelves in it; the plaster was smooth.
But Donal was not satisfied. He took a big knife from his pocket,
and began tapping all round. The moment he came to the right-hand
side, there was a change in the sound.
"You don't mind if I make a little dust, my lady?" he said.
"Do anything you please," answered Arctura.
He sought in several places to drive the point of his knife into the
plaster; it would nowhere enter it more than a quarter of an inch:
here was no built wall, he believed, but one smooth stone. He found
nothing like a joint till he came near the edge of the recess: there
was a limit of the stone, and he began at once to clear it. It gave
him a straight line from the bottom to the top of the recess, where
it met another at right angles.
"There does seem, my lady," he said, "to be some kind of closing up
here, though it may of course turn out of no interest to us! Shall I
go on, and see what it is?"
"By all means," she answered, but turned pale as she spoke.
Donal looked at her anxiously. She understood his look.
"You must not mind my feeling a little silly," she said. "I am not
silly enough to give way to it."
He went on again with his knife, and had presently cleared the
outlines of a stone that filled nearly all the side of the recess.
He paused.
"Go on! go on!" said Arctura.
"I must first get a better tool or two," answered Donal. "Will you
mind being left?"
"I can bear it. But do not be long. A few minutes may evaporate my
courage."
Donal hurried away to get a hammer and chisel, and a pail to put the
broken plaster in. Lady Arctura stood and waited. The silence closed
in upon her. She began to feel eerie. She felt as if she had but to
will and see through the wall to what lay beyond it. To keep herself
from so willing, she had all but reduced herself to mental inaction,
when she started to her feet with a smothered cry: a knock not over
gentle sounded on the door of the outer room. She darted to the
bedroom-door and flung it to--next to the press, and with one push
had it nearly in its place. Then she opened again the door, thinking
to wait for a second knock on the other before she answered. But as
she opened the inner, the outer door also opened--slowly--and a face
looked in. She would rather have had a visitor from behind the
press! It was her uncle; his face cadaverous; his eyes dull, but
with a kind of glitter in them; his look like that of a
housebreaker. In terror of himself, in terror lest he should
discover what they had been about, in terror lest Donal should
appear, wishing to warn the latter, and certain that, early as it
was, her uncle was not himself, with intuitive impulse, the moment
she saw him, she cried out,
"Uncle! what is that behind you?"
She felt afterwards, and was very sorry, that it was both a
deceitful and cruel thing to do; but she did it, as I have said, by
a swift, unreflecting instinct--which she concluded, in thinking
about it, came from the ready craft of some ancestor, and
illustrated what Donal had been saying.
The earl turned like one struck on the back, imagined something of
which Arctura knew nothing, cowered to two-thirds of his height, and
crept away. Though herself trembling from head to foot, Arctura was
seized with such a pity, that she followed him to his room; but she
dared not go in. She stood a moment in the passage within sight of
his door, and thought she heard his bell ring. Now Simmons might
meet Donal! In a moment or two, however, she was relieved. Donal
came round a turn, carrying his implements. She signed to him to
make haste, and he was just safe inside her room when Simmons came
along on his way to his master's. She drew the door to, as if she
had been just coming out, and said,
"Knock at my door as you return, and tell me how your master is: I
heard his bell."
She then begged Donal to go on with his work, but stop it the moment
she made a noise with the handle of the door, and resumed her place
outside till Simmons should re-appear. Full ten minutes she stood
waiting: it seemed an hour. Though she heard Donal at work within,
and knew Simmons must soon come, though the room behind her was her
own, and familiar to her from childhood, the long empty passage in
front of her appeared frightful. What might not come pacing along
towards her! At last she heard her uncle's door--steps--and the
butler approached. She shook the handle of the door, and Donal's
blows ceased.
"I can't make him out, my lady!" said Simmons. "It is nothing very
bad, I think, this time; but he gets worse and worse--always taking
more and more o' them horrid drugs. It's no use trying to hide it:
he'll drop off sudden one o' these days! I've heard say laudanum
don't shorten life; but it's not one nor two, nor half a dozen sorts
o' laudanums he keeps mixing in that poor inside o' his! The end
must come, and what will it be? It's better you should be prepared
for it when it do come, my lady. I've just been a giving of him some
into his skin--with a little sharp-pointed thing, a syringe, you
know, my lady: he says it's the only way to take some medicines.
He's just a slave to his medicines, my lady!"
As soon as he was gone, Arctura returned to Donal. He had knocked
the plaster away, and uncovered a slab, very like one of the great
stones on some of the roofs. The next thing was to prize it from the
mortar, and that was not difficult. The instant he drew the stone
away, a dank chill assailed them, accompanied by a humid smell, as
from a long-closed cellar. They stood and looked, now at each other,
now at the opening in the wall, where was nothing but darkness. The
room grew cold and colder. Donal was anxious as to how Arctura might
stand what discovery lay before them, and she was anxious to read
his sensations. For her sake he tried to hide all expression of the
awe that was creeping over him, and it gave him enough to do.
"We are not far from something, my lady!" he said. "It makes one
think of what He said who carries the light everywhere--that there
is nothing covered that shall not be revealed, neither hid that
shall not be known. Shall we leave it for the present?"
"Anything but that!" said Arctura with a shiver; "--anything but an
unknown terrible something!"
"But what can you do with it?"
"Let the daylight in upon it."
Her colour returned as she spoke, and a look of determination came
into her eyes.
"You will not be afraid to be left then when I go down?"
"I am cowardly enough to be afraid, but not cowardly enough to let
you go alone. I will share with you. I shall not be afraid--not
much--not too much, I mean--if I am with you."
Donal hesitated.
"See!" she went on, "I am going to light a candle, and ask you to
come down with me--if down it be: it may be up!"
"I am ready, my lady," said Donal.
She lighted the candle.
"Had we not better lock the door, my lady?"
"That might set them wondering," she answered. "We should have to
lock both the doors of this room, or else both the passage-doors!
The better way will be to pull the press after us when we are behind
it."
"You are right, my lady. Please take some matches with you."
"To be sure."
"You will carry the candle, please. I must have my hands free. Try
to let the light shine past me as much as you can, that I may see
where I am going. But I shall depend most on my hands and feet."
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