This letter I kept sealed and directed for two or three days always about my person,for discovery would have been ruinous,in expectation of an opportunity which might be safely trusted,whereby to have it placed in the post-office.As neither Emily nor I were permitted to pass beyond the precincts of the demesne itself,which was surrounded by high walls formed of dry stone,the difficulty of procuring such an opportunity was greatly enhanced.
At this time Emily had a short conver- sation with her father,which she reported to me instantly.
After some indifferent matter,he had asked her whether she and I were upon good terms,and whether I was unreserved in my disposition.She answered in the affirmative;and he then inquired whether I had been much surprised to find him in my chamber on the other day.She answered that I had been both surprised and amused.
'And what did she think of George Wilson's appearance?'
'Who?'inquired she.
'Oh,the architect,'he answered,'who is to contract for the repairs of the house;he is accounted a handsome fellow.'
'She could not see his face,'said Emily,'and she was in such a hurry to escape that she scarcely noticed him.'
Sir Arthur appeared satisfied,and the conversation ended.
This slight conversation,repeated accurately to me by Emily,had the effect of confirming,if indeed anything was required to do so,all that I had before believed as to Edward's actual presence;and I naturally became,if possible,more anxious than ever to despatch the letter to Mr.
Jefferies.An opportunity at length occurred.
As Emily and I were walking one day near the gate of the demesne,a lad from the village happened to be passing down the avenue from the house;the spot was secluded,and as this person was not connected by service with those whose observation I dreaded,I committed the letter to his keeping,with strict injunctions that he should put it without delay into the receiver of the town post-office;at the same time I added a suitable gratuity,and the man having made many protestations of punctuality,was soon out of sight.
He was hardly gone when I began to doubt my discretion in having trusted this person;but I had no better or safer means of despatching the letter,and I was not warranted in suspecting him of such wanton dishonesty as an inclination to tamper with it;but I could not be quite satisfied of its safety until I had received an answer,which could not arrive for a few days.Before I did,however,an event occurred which a little surprised me.
I was sitting in my bedroom early in the day,reading by myself,when I heard a knock at the door.
'Come in,'said I;and my uncle entered the room.
'Will you excuse me?'said he.'I
sought you in the parlour,and thence I
have come here.I desired to say a word with you.I trust that you have hitherto found my conduct to you such as that of a guardian towards his ward should be.'
I dared not withhold my consent.
'And,'he continued,'I trust that you have not found me harsh or unjust,and that you have perceived,my dear niece,that I have sought to make this poor place as agreeable to you as may be.'
I assented again;and he put his hand in his pocket,whence he drew a folded paper,and dashing it upon the table with startling emphasis,he said:
'Did you write that letter?'
The sudden and tearful alteration of his voice,manner,and face,but,more than all,the unexpected production of my letter to Mr.Jefferies,which I at once recognised,so confounded and terrified me,that I felt almost choking.
I could not utter a word.
'Did you write that letter?'he repeated with slow and intense emphasis.'You did,liar and hypocrite!You dared to write this foul and infamous libel;but it shall be your last.Men will universally believe you mad,if I choose to call for an inquiry.I can make you appear so.The suspicions expressed in this letter are the hallucinations and alarms of moping lunacy.
I have defeated your first attempt,madam;
and by the holy God,if ever you make another,chains,straw,darkness,and the keeper's whip shall be your lasting portion!'
With these astounding words he left the room,leaving me almost fainting.
I was now almost reduced to despair; my last cast had failed;I had no course left but that of eloping secretly from the castle,and placing myself under the protection of the nearest magistrate.I felt if this were not done,and speedily,that Ishould be MURDERED.
No one,from mere deion,can have an idea of the unmitigated horror of my situation--a helpless,weak,inexperienced girl,placed under the power and wholly at the mercy of evil men,and feeling that she had it not in her power to escape for a moment from the malignant influences under which she was probably fated to fall;and with a consciousness that if violence,if murder were designed,her dying shriek would be lost in void space;no human being would be near to aid her,no human interposition could deliver her.
I had seen Edward but once during his visit,and as I did not meet with him again,I began to think that he must have taken his departure--a conviction which was to a certain degree satisfactory,as Iregarded his absence as indicating the removal of immediate danger.
Emily also arrived circuitously at the same conclusion,and not without good grounds,for she managed indirectly to learn that Edward's black horse had actually been for a day and part of a night in the castle stables,just at the time of her brother's supposed visit.The horse had gone,and,as she argued,the rider must have departed with it.
This point being so far settled,I felt a little less uncomfortable:when being one day alone in my bedroom,I happened to look out from the window,and,to my un-utterable horror,I beheld,peering through an opposite casement,my cousin Edward's face.Had I seen the evil one himself in bodily shape,I could not have experienced a more sickening revulsion.