wunder · Library

Part 44

Traditions of Lancashire, Volume 2 · John Roby — chapter 44 of 119 · ~726 words · public domain

Read in the Wunder reader — free

"And what else?" inquired the other; "for by my halidome thou stirrest not hence until she be forthcoming, alive or dead! I verily suspect--nay, more, I charge thee with forcibly detaining her against her own privity or consent."

The beggar looked steadily upon him, not a whit either moved or abashed at this bold accusation.

"Peradventure thou speakest without heed and unadvisedly. I tell thee again, thou wouldest have been driven hence ere now had it not been for others whom that spirit must obey."

"Who art thou?" said the perplexed inquirer; "for thou art either worse or better than thou seemest."

"Once the rightful heir, now a beggar, in these domains, wrested from me by rapine and the harpy fangs of injustice misnamed law. Theophilus Ashton, from whom ye took your share of the inheritance when death dislodged it from his gripe, won it himself most foully from my ancestors;--and have I not a right to hate thee?"

"And so thy vengeance hath fallen upon a defenceless woman?"

"Nay, I said not so; but if I had so minded I might have been glutted with vengeance, ay, to my heart's core. Hark thee. Secrets I have learned that will bind the hidden things of darkness, and bow them to my behest. The unseen powers and operations of nature have been open to my gaze. Long ago my converse and companionship were with the learned doctors and sages of the East. In Spain I have walked in the palace of the Moorish kings, the Alhambra at Grenada; and in Arabia I have learned the mystic cabala, and worshipped in the temple of the holy prophet!"

"And yet thou comest a beggar to my door! Truly thy spells have profited thee little."

The beggar smiled scornfully. "Riches inexhaustible, unlimited are mine; while nature is unveiled at my command."

"Thou speakest riddles, old man; or thou dost hug the very spectres of thy brain, which men call madness."

"I am not mad; save it be madness that I have not hurled thee from this thy misgotten heritage. A power of mighty and all prevading energy hath hindered me, and, it may be, rescued thee from destruction."

"Unto what unknown intercessor do I owe this forbearance?"

"Love!" said the mendicant, with an expression of withering and baneful scorn; "a silly hankering for a puling girl."

"Thee!--in love?"

"And is it so strange, so hard and incapable of belief, that in a frosty but vigorous age, the sap should be fresh though the outward trunk look withered and without verdure?"

Nicholas shuddered. A harrowing suspicion crossed him that his beloved sister had fallen a victim to the lawless passions of this hoary delinquent.

"Thou dost judge wrongfully," said the beggar; "she appertaineth not to me. 'Tis long since I have drunk of that maddening cup, a woman's love. Would that another had not taken its intoxicating draught."

"Thou but triflest with me," said Haworth; "let the maiden go, or beware my vengeance."

"Thy vengeance! Weak, impotent man! what canst thou do? Thy threats I hold lighter than the breath that makes them; thy cajolments I value less than these; and thy rewards--why, the uttermost wealth that thou couldst boast would weigh but as a feather against the riches at my disposal."

"Then give her back at my request."

"I tell thee she is not mine, nor in my charge."

"But thou knowest of her detention, and where she is concealed."

"What if I do? will that help thee to the discovery?"

"Point out the place, or conduct me thither, and"----

The mendicant here burst forth into a laugh so tantalising and malicious that Nicholas, though silent, grew pale with choler.

"Am I a fool?" said the exorcist; "an everyday fool? a simpleton of such a dastardly condition that thou shouldest think to whine me from my purpose? Never."

Scarcely was the word spoken when a loud and awful explosion shook the building to its foundations. Horror and consternation were seen upon the hitherto composed features of the beggar. He grasped his crutch, and with a yell of unutterable anguish he cried, "Ruined--betrayed! May the fiends follow ye for this mischance!"

He threw himself almost headlong down the steps, and ran with rapid strides through the yard, followed by Nicholas, who seemed in a stupor of astonishment at these mysterious events.

← Previous chapterAll chaptersNext chapter →

Traditions of Lancashire, Volume 2 · The Wunder Library — complete classics, free to read, with narration.

© 2026 Wunder Learning LLC · Terms & Privacy