By the time the ceremony was concluded, and the divine had finished one
of those energetic and powerful appeals to the feelings which so
effectually roused or subdued, as it pleased him to desire, darkness had
nearly shrouded the surrounding landscape; and the multitude, whom
respect or curiosity had assembled, retired from the churchyard, and
wended to their homes. The year was in its third month, and the weather,
which, when Hugh Dalton landed, had been clear and fine, was now foggy
and cold:-"The dewy night had with her frosty shade
Immantled all the world, and the stiff ground
Sparkled in ice----"
Yet the steed of the youth, who had so unceremoniously joined Lady
Cecil's funeral, was cropping the withered grass from the churchyard
graves, while his master, apparently unconscious of the deepening night,
leaned against one of the richly ornamented stone slabs that marked the
entrance to the vault.
Suddenly the clatter of horses' hoofs sounded on the crisp road, the
cavalier involuntarily placed his hand on his sword, and his horse
lifted his head from the earth, bent back his ears, and whinnied in the
low and peculiar tone that serves to intimate the approach of strangers.
The travellers (for there were two) halted at the churchyard gate.
"What ho there!" exclaimed the foremost--"you, sir, who are pondering in
graveyards at this hour, canst tell me if Lady Cecil's funeral took
place this morning?"
"Her ladyship was buried this evening," replied the other, at the same
time fairly drawing his sword out of its scabbard, though the movement
was concealed by his cloak.
"They waited then?"
"They did, for one whose presence was not needed."
"And pray, how know you that? or knowing, think you it wisdom, Sir
Dolorous, to give forth such knowledge, when it might be him they
tarried for who questioneth?"
"It is because I know you, Sir Willmott Burrell, that I am so free of
speech," replied the youth, vaulting into his saddle; "and I repeat it,
your presence was not needed. The lady, as you truly know, loved you not
while living; it was well, therefore, that you profaned not her burial
by a show of false grief."
"Here's a ruffler!" exclaimed the other, turning to his follower. "And
pray who are you?"
"You shall know that, good sir, when you least desire it," answered he
of the black cloak, reining up his horse, that pawed and pranced
impatiently: he then loosened the bridle, and would have crossed Burrell
to pass into the highway; but the other shouted to his associate, "Hold,
stop him, Robin! stop him in the name of the Lord! 'tis doubtless one of
the fellows who have assailed his Highness's life--a leveller--a
leveller! a friend of Miles Syndercomb, or some such ruffian, who is
tarrying in this remote part of the island for some opportunity of
escape. If you are an innocent man, you will remain; if guilty, this
shall be my warrant."