The Cloister and the Hearth by Charles Reade (most interesting books to read .TXT) π
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- Author: Charles Reade
Read book online Β«The Cloister and the Hearth by Charles Reade (most interesting books to read .TXT) πΒ». Author - Charles Reade
They had gone scarcely fifty yards ere the drops turned away from the river, and took them to the gate of a large gloomy building. It was a monastery.
They stood irresolute before it, and gazed at the dark pile.
It seemed to them to hide some horrible mystery.
But presently Andrea gave a shout. βHere be the drops again,β cried he. βAnd this road leadeth to the river.β
They resumed the chase; and soon it became clear the drops were now leading them home. The track became wetter and wetter, and took them to the Tiber's edge. And there on the bank a bucketful appeared to have been discharged from the stream.
At first they shouted, and thought they had made a discovery: but reflection showed them it amounted to nothing. Certainly a man had been in the water, and had got out of it in safety; but that man was not Gerard. One said he knew a fisherman hard by that had nets and drags. They found the fisherman and paid him liberally to sink nets in the river below the place, and to drag it above and below; and promised him gold should he find the body. Then they ran vainly up and down the river which flowed so calm and voiceless, holding this and a thousand more strange secrets. Suddenly Andrea, with a cry of hope, ran back to the house.
He returned in less than half an hour.
βNo,β he groaned, and wrung his hands.
βWhat is the hour?β asked the lackey.
βFour hours past midnight.β
βMy pretty lad,β said the lackey solemnly, βsay a mass for thy friend's soul: for he is not among living men.β
The morning broke. Worn out with fatigue, Andrea and Pietro went home, heart sick.
The days rolled on, mute as the Tiber as to Gerard's fate.
CHAPTER LXVII
It would indeed have been strange if with such barren data as they possessed, those men could have read the handwriting on the river's bank.
For there on that spot an event had just occurred, which, take it altogether, was perhaps without a parallel in the history of mankind, and may remain so to the end of time.
But it shall be told in a very few words, partly by me, partly by an actor in the scene.
Gerard, then, after writing his brief adieu to Pietro and Andrea, had stolen down to the river at nightfall.
He had taken his measures with a dogged resolution not uncommon in those who are bent on self-destruction. He filled his pockets with all the silver and copper he possessed, that he might sink the surer; and so provided, hurried to a part of the stream that he had seen was little frequented.
There are some, especially women, who look about to make sure there is somebody at hand.
But this resolute wretch looked about him to make sure there was nobody.
And to his annoyance, he observed a single figure leaning against the corner of an alley. So he affected to stroll carelessly away; but returned to the spot.
Lo! the same figure emerged from a side street and loitered about.
βCan he be watching me? Can he know what I am here for?β thought Gerard. βImpossible.β
He went briskly off, walked along a street or two, made a detour and came back.
The man had vanished. But lo! on Gerard looking all round, to make sure, there he was a few yards behind, apparently fastening his shoe.
Gerard saw he was watched, and at this moment observed in the moonlight a steel gauntlet in his sentinel's hand.
Then he knew it was an assassin.
Strange to say, it never occurred to him that his was the life aimed at. To be sure he was not aware he had an enemy in the world.
He turned and walked up to the bravo. βMy good friend,β said he eagerly, βsell me thine arm! a single stroke! See, here is all I have;β and he forced his money into the bravo's hands.
βOh, prithee! prithee! do one good deed, and rid me of my hateful life!β and even while speaking he undid his doublet and bared his bosom.
The man stared in his face.
βWhy do ye hesitate?β shrieked Gerard. βHave ye no bowels? Is it so much pains to lift your arm and fall it? Is it because I am poor, and can't give ye gold? Useless wretch, canst only strike a man behind; not look one in the face. There, then, do but turn thy head and hold thy tongue!β
And with a snarl of contempt he ran from him, and flung himself into the water.
βMargaret!β
At the heavy plunge of his body in the stream the bravo seemed to recover from a stupor. He ran to the bank, and with a strange cry the assassin plunged in after the self-destroyer.
What followed will be related by the assassin.
CHAPTER LXVIII
A woman has her own troubles, as a man has his. And we male writers seldom do more than indicate the griefs of the other sex. The intelligence of the female reader must come to our aid, and fill up our cold outlines. So have I indicated, rather than described, what Margaret Brandt went through up to that eventful day, when she entered Eli's house an enemy, read her sweetheart's letter, and remained a friend.
And now a woman's greatest trial drew near, and Gerard far away.
She availed herself but little of Eli's sudden favour; for this reserve she had always a plausible reason ready; and never hinted at the true one, which was this; there were two men in that house at sight of whom she shuddered with instinctive antipathy and dread. She had read wickedness and hatred in their faces, and mysterious signals of secret intelligence. She preferred to receive Catherine and her daughter at home. The former went to see her every day, and was wrapped up in the expected event.
Catherine was one of those females whose office is to multiply, and rear the multiplied: who, when at last they consent to leave off pelting one out of every room in the house with babies, hover about the fair scourges that are still in full swing, and do so cluck, they seem to multiply by proxy.
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