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THE

Weird of the Wentworths;

A TALE OF GEORGE IV.'S TIME.

BY

JOHANNES SCOTUS.

IN TWO VOLUMES.—VOL. II.

LONDON:
SAUNDERS, OTLEY, AND CO.,
66 BROOK STREET, HANOVER SQUARE
1862.

LONDON: PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, STAMFORD STREET AND CHARING CROSS.

THE WEIRD OF THE WENTWORTHS;

A TALE OF GEORGE IV.'s TIME.

CHAPTER I.

Perhaps the noble aspirations contained in the lines that head this chapter are misapplied to a murderer flying his just punishment, but even to the felon-convict liberty is sweet. L'Estrange, as soon as he was left alone, began to think what he should decide on,—whether to escape or remain. There lay the rope, and the file to burst open the prison bars! All was prepared for his flight. Why did he hesitate? Why did he linger? Between the peals he heard the clock strike twelve; he thought too he heard the clatter of horse-hoofs, probably the Captain on his way home. Why did he stay? he felt an irresistible inclination to await his doom. Why? Because he would see Ellen once more! If he went—if he escaped—he would perhaps never see her—he would have to fly his country. He would stay. Come what might—it was death at the worst! But alas! the Captain, what would he think? he cared not for that. But what would he do? He who had gained admission to his cell could again do so; he who had offered means of flight could also force him to fly; it was useless then, after all he must go! Oh, that he had never come! that man was his evil genius! "Farewell, then, to Scotland, farewell, Ellen, I must go and hide on a foreign strand." He then began to think how he was to manage his escape. After all it was not so very easy. What if he should fail? he had already lost precious time! Bill would only wait till three—he must be up and doing.

We must leave him a few moments in order to follow the Captain home. When he had brought L'Estrange to see escape was after all not to be trifled with, slipping a cheque for a large sum into the turnkey's hand he was let out by a side door. It was raining torrents, and his only light were the rapid flashes that lit the Welkin, and disclosed for an instant Arthur's Seat, and then swallowed all in the jaws of darkness again. He strode along whistling; if he met a watchman made some casual remark, or damned the night, then walked on again, taking his soaking with the utmost coolness, till he came opposite the High School. There he turned to the right, and descending a steep pathway dived into the north back of the Canongate, threading his way through the murky dirty habitations till Holyrood rose dimly before him. Here he was challenged by a sentry, but as he had possessed himself of the password and countersign, was readily admitted. Passing through the courtyard he again sallied forth, again gave the password, and was at last clear of all buildings in the Park now called the Queen's Park. He walked on a dozen paces, and then gave a shrill whistle: another, echo like, answered him, and he quickened his pace to where Archy stood holding a horse.

"A soaker, by G—, Archy."

"'Deed, sir, it is a soft night for being out by!"

"Go and rout up old Stacy—he is at the King's Tavern in High Street; tell him to watch for L'Estrange at Hunter's Bog from one to three. Have three horses, and ride to Prestonpans; there the smack is ready—don't let him stay behind, he must fly the country. It's no go about his sweetheart; he may perhaps carry her off a wedded dame—I never promised her he shouldn't—but I did promise she should get spliced. If he is obstinate shoot him, do you hear—tell Bill to shoot him, 'Dead dogs'—you know the rest, Archy. Now off, you young devil; you are as cunning as a fox; away—be sharp—quick march!"

With these words the Captain mounted, telling Archy to get a glass or two of grog to warm him, then putting spurs to his horse he rode homewards at a tremendous pace by a cross route for fear of being recognized. When he reached the Holly Walk, Archy's father met him, and took away the horse, which belonged to his own farm.

The Captain then walked to the east tower of the castle, crossed the bridge, and whistled an air beneath one of the windows. He had not long to wait; soon a window above was gently opened, and a rope-ladder lowered, up which the gallant officer swung, entered the room, and shook hands with Sir Richard. The window was shut, and no one in the castle aware the Captain had been absent, as he had retired earlier than usual from his toddy, having a natural dislike to Sunday evening.

"Is it managed?" said Sir Richard.

"Bravely—I had a d—d work to get round the old turnkey, whose brutal pigheadedness was only equalled by his gormandizing cupidity. Then L'Estrange was well nigh sobered by his solitary confinement, and then that accursed storm has soaked me through. Give me a glass of brandy for God's sake. He must be gnawing through his cage now—and he'll have a good shake when he drops, for the rope wasn't half long enough!"

"Ha ha! what a joke! I should like to see his face after it; but how will you know if he got through all right?"

"Archy comes with the news to-morrow morning. Now good night, I must get to bed; won't the judges look blue? Egad!"

When Edward L'Estrange had made up his mind for the attempt, he began to consider his best plan of effecting it easiest; the window of course was the path to liberty; but the window was at least twelve feet above the ground, how was it to be reached? L'Estrange was no fool, and soon hit on an expedient. He uncoiled the rope, and found it was about twenty feet in length, and made of silk, being both thin and strong; he then took up the file; it was a foot in length, and in the middle a smooth place, with the edges rounded off. Why was it thus? It had evidently been made so? There was a reason; the Captain told him he was no fool; he would find it out. He was not long in doing so. To establish a communication between the window and the dungeon floor was the first point; there were three stout bars, with iron points like teeth along their edges placed uprightly in the window; if he could get the rope round one of them, or in any way catch it, so as to bear his weight scaling the wall? The reason for the file's shape then struck him; so he tied the silk cord tightly round the centre of the file, and threw the rope