IN WHICH HARRY YIELDS TO AN UNCONTROLLABLE IMPULSE, AND RISKS HIS LIFE IN A DARING ADVENTURE

Harry now felt perfectly secure about the package.  It seemed to him to be safely hidden, beyond all possibility of discovery; for who could ever venture into this passage-way? and if any one should, how could that package be seen?  Still, as to any one venturing here, he had his doubts.  There was that mysterious visit.  What did that mean?  It was a female figure ­a woman; young, too, light, active.  Who could it have been?  It must have been some one familiar with the castle.  He now felt convinced that this figure was no apparition, that it was some living person, that she had come down through this very passage-way, and had entered his room, and touched him and whispered to him.  So much was clear.

And now before him lay this passageway.  He was resolved to explore it as far as possible, so as to unfold the mystery.  But who was this visitor? ­a woman!  Was she friend or foe?  If a foe, why had she come?  What did she expect, or why had she spoken so gently and roused him so quietly?  If a friend, why had she fled so hurriedly, without a sign or word?  The more he thought it over, the more he felt convinced that his visitor had made a mistake; that she had come expecting to find some one else, and had been startled at the discovery of her mistake.  Perhaps Mrs. Russell had bribed one of the Carlist women to carry a message to her husband.  That seemed the most natural way of accounting for it.

It was evident to Harry that this passage-way was known, and was used; that he was at the mercy of his captor; and that Russell had made a great blunder in hiding his package in such a place.  But why had his visitor failed to discover the package?  Perhaps because she came in the dark.  That would account for it.  She could not have seen it; she passed by it thus, both while coming and going.

Nevertheless, whether this passage was known and used by others or not, Harry could not help feeling that its discovery was a great thing for him.  Perhaps it might lead out of the castle.  That meant escape, liberty, life!  It meant more.  Once outside, he felt that he could obtain help from some quarter.  He would then come back with a force which would be sufficient to capture the castle and free his friends; or, if he could not gather a large force, he might find at least a small band of men with whom he could steal in through this secret passage, and effect the rescue of his friends in that way.  And by “his friends” he meant Katie.  She, at least, could be rescued, and the best way would be to rescue her at the outset by carrying her off with him.  Such were Harry’s hopes and intentions.

In entering now upon this exploration, Harry felt the great necessity that there was of caution; and yet, in spite of this, the torch would have to be retained, or else any farther progress would be impossible.  To crawl along in the dark might be safer, but it would effect nothing, and he could only hope that his torch-light would not be observed.  Dangerous or not, he must retain it; and besides, he could not be in any greater peril than he had already been in.  By this bold move, he had everything to gain and nothing to lose.  There was, however, one other precaution which he would have to take, and that was to make as little noise as possible.  His heavy boots would never do, and the sound might pass through even such walls as these.  Removing these, therefore, he carried them under one arm, and, holding the torch in his unoccupied hand, he advanced along the passage.

The stones were cold to his feet as he started on his adventurous way.  Slowly, cautiously, stealthily, he moved along.  The passage was about six feet in height and two feet wide, with massive stone-walls on either side.  By its direction, it seemed to pass through the wall at one end of the great hall, past the place where the stairway ascended from below.  Along this Harry moved noiselessly and watchfully, and at length came to a place where the passage-way turned at right angles, just as it had done at the entrance.  Up this he walked, and, after a few paces, perceived an abyss before him.  In an instant he understood what this was.  It was another chimney similar to the one in his room, from which the passage-way had started, and here too, doubtless, there was a room like his own.

He now extinguished the torch, which, together with the boots, he put down on the floor, and then, lying flat down, he thrust his head over the opening and tried to see what was below.  There was a faint light, the light of moonbeams, which streamed in here and fell upon the floor, just as in his own room.  He reached down his hand, and could feel that here too there were stepping-stones.  In fact, there were two rooms connected by this passage-way, and in all probability they were exactly similar.  But who were in this room?  The men had been taken to one side of the great hall, the women to the other.  Were the women here?  Were they by themselves?  And was Katie here?  Would it be possible for him to go down so as to try to communicate with any of them?  It was certainly hazardous.  A discovery would ruin all.  It would be better to wait, at any rate to watch here for a while, and listen.

As he watched he could see somewhat better, for his eyes grew more accustomed to the dim light.  He could make out the stepping-stones, and the chimney floor, and the floor of the room for about one-third of the distance from the chimney.  As he lay there and watched and listened, there came to his ears, through the deep stillness of night, the sound of regular breathing, as of sleepers, together with an occasional sigh, as of some one in a troubled dream.  They were all asleep, then!  Who?  The Carlists, or the women attendants? or was it not rather his own friends ­and ­Katie?  At this thought an uncontrollable desire seized him to venture down and see for himself.  He might get near enough to see for himself.  He could strike a match, take one look, and then, if mistaken, retreat.  Dared he venture?  He dared.

He raised himself, and then was about to put one foot down so as to descend, but at that very moment, as he stood poised in that attitude, he heard a faint shuffling sound below.  He stopped and looked down cautiously.  There, across the moonbeams, he could see a figure moving; the very same figure that he had seen moving across the moonbeams in his own room ­the same slender, slight, fragile figure, with the same floating, vaporous drapery.  But now he did not feel one particle of wonder or superstitious awe.  He understood it all.  The woman who had visited him had fled back here, and was now about to return.  What should he do?  He must retreat.  She was evidently coming in his direction.  He would go back to his own room, and wait and watch and intercept her.  As Harry hesitated the woman stopped also, and listened.  Then she advanced again.

Upon this Harry retreated, taking his boots and the extinguished torch, and went back again.  He succeeded in regaining his own room without making any noise, and by that time he had decided on what he ought to do.  He decided to stand in the fireplace, on the opposite side.  The woman would come down the stepping-stones and steal into the room:  he would Watch her and find out what she wanted.  Then he would act according to the issue of events; and at any rate he could intercept her on her return, and make her give an account of herself.

Having come to this conclusion, Harry stood there in the chimney, waiting most patiently for what seemed a very long time.  He suspected that the woman might still be hesitating, but determined to wait until she should make her appearance.  At length he heard a noise, which seemed to come from the passage above.  It was a soft, dull, scraping, sliding noise of a very peculiar kind, the cause and the nature of which he could not conjecture.  The sound came, and then stopped, and came again, and again stopped, for three or four times.  Harry listened and waited.  At last the sound ceased altogether, and there was the same stillness as before.

Harry now waited for so long a time that his patience was quite exhausted, and he resolved, come what might, to go up again to the end of the passage and wait there.  He knew the way now well enough.  He left his torch and boots behind, and, climbing up, went along the passage, half expecting to encounter the woman, and ready to seize her and question her.  But he found no one.  All was still.  He reached the chimney of the other room, and then, as before, he looked down.

He saw the moonbeams lying on the floor; he heard the slow, low, regular breathing of sleepers, one of whom seemed still to be in that troubled dream.  Familiarity with these surroundings had now made him bold.

Should he venture now, or wait longer?

Wait!  Why wait?  When could he hope to have a better time than the present?

But one of the women was no doubt awake ­that one who had already visited him.

What of that?  He cared not; he could not wait.  Perhaps she was a friend ­it seemed like it.  At any rate he was resolved to risk it.  To go back was not to be thought of.  All his nerves were so wrought up, and to such an intense pitch of excitement, that sleep was impossible and any longer waiting intolerable.  He determined to risk all now.

And for what?

For the chance, not of escape, but of communicating with Katie.

The fact is, as any one may see, Harry was getting in a very bad way about Katie.  Else why should he make such a point about seeing her, and run such a risk, and make even the chance of his personal safety a secondary consideration?  And what for?  What did Katie care for him?  What indeed?

These very questions had occurred to the mind of Harry himself, but they had one and all been promptly answered by that volatile young man in a way that was quite satisfactory to himself.  For he said to himself that he was a poor lone man; an unfortunate captive in a dungeon; in the hands of a merciless foe; under sentence of death; with only a week to live; and that he wanted sympathy, yes, pined for it ­craved, yearned, hungered and thirsted for sweet sympathy.  And it seemed to him as though no one could give him that sympathy for which he pined so well as Katie.  And therefore he was going down to her on this desperate errand for the sole purpose of seeing her, and perhaps of communicating with her.

A thought occurred to him at the eleventh hour, while he was on the verge of the descent, and that was to write something to her and drop it down.  He might pencil something on a leaf of his pocket-book.  But, after all, what would be the good of that?  Would she ever see it?  Might it not be picked up by one of the waiting-women in the morning?  Most likely it would be, in which case it would be carried to the chief, “His Majesty,” and all would be revealed.  He then would be conveyed to another part of the castle, and then ­good-bye to the hidden package and to Katie.  This thought decided him.  He continued his descent.

Slowly, cautiously, and stealthily Harry began to venture down, looking behind him at every movement, and at every movement waiting and listening.  No sound arose, however, except the low breathing, which was as regular as before.  At length he stood upon the stone floor of the fireplace.

Here he stood and looked into the room.  By this time his eyes were so accustomed to the moonlight that he could see objects with wonderful distinctness.  He could see three beds, upon which were reclining three figures, all apparently buried in sleep.  Like himself, all these had been compelled to lie down in their clothes, with only such additional covering as might be afforded by their own shawls and wraps.

Harry stole forward, his heart beating painfully.  Upon the rude couch nearest him lay a figure that seemed familiar.  The moonbeams shone full upon her.  A shawl with a large stripe was drawn over her.  It was Katie’s shawl.

Harry came nearer.

He could see her!  It was ­yes, it was Katie!

There was no mistake about it.  It was Katie, and she was sound asleep.  He looked at her as she slept ­her head thrown back, and one arm upraised, so that the little hand seemed suspended in the air.  For a few moments he stood, then he sank upon his knees, and gazed in silent rapture on that sweet and beautiful face.  Her breathing was soft and low ­scarce audible.  He bent his head down to listen.  Katie stirred.  She drew a long breath.

“H-s-s-s-s-sh!” whispered Harry.

At this Katie stopped breathing for a moment, and then she whispered, very softly,

“Who are you?”

“Harry,” said the other.  “Don’t speak a word.”

Saying this, he reached out his hand and took hers.  This was intended merely to soothe her and to reassure her, for fear that she might be startled.

“I knew you would come to me,” said Katie, in a rapid and joyous whisper; “and here you are ­you dear, good boy!”

At this Harry’s heart beat with a rapture that was positive pain.

“I had to come.  I could not keep away,” he whispered.

“I was just dreaming that you were with me,” whispered Katie, “and it all seems so awfully natural.  But won’t the others see you?”

“H-s-s-s-s-sh!” said Harry.  “They’re all sound asleep.”

Katie now raised herself up on her elbow, while Harry remained kneeling on the floor.

“I think it’s so lovely,” she said.  “It’s so awfully nice, and jolly, and all that ­in this mysterious old castle; and here, lo and behold! you come popping in upon one just like a romance.”

“H-s-s-s-s-sh! you mustn’t speak.”

“But it’s so awfully nice, you know, I must speak, and, besides, we’re only whispering.”

“Well, whisper lower, and closer.”

Katie held her head closer to Harry, and thus these two, for purely precautionary purposes, carried on the rest of the conversation in that position.  And their heads were so close that they touched; and their whispers were very soft and low.  But all this was necessary; for if they had not taken these precautions, they might have wakened up old Mrs. Russell, and then, as a matter of course, there would have been the mischief to pay.

“There’s too much moonlight here,” said Harry.  “Come over inside the old fireplace, and we’ll be in the dark.”

“Oh, that will be so nice!” said Katie.  And she at once got up and stole away to the deep, dark fireplace, where both of them were wrapped in impenetrable gloom.  It was well that they did so, for at that moment something waked Mrs. Russell, who called out,

“Katie!”

“Well, auntie,” said Katie, from the depths of the fireplace.

“I thought I heard a noise.”

“Oh no, auntie; you’ve been dreaming,” said Katie, in a tone of sweet sympathy.  “Go to sleep again, poor dear.”

And auntie sank back into the land of dreams.  After a little judicious waiting they were able to resume their interrupted conversation.

“How, in the name of wonder,” said Katie, “did you ever, ever manage to get here?”

Harry bent down, and in a low, very low, faint whisper told her all about it, dwelling upon every little detail, and not forgetting to mention how he had longed to see her, and had risked everything for it.  And Katie kept interrupting him incessantly, with soft cooing whispers of sympathy, which were exceeding sweet and precious.

And Katie proceeded to tell that she had been dreaming ­and wasn’t it funny? ­about him; that she thought he had got into one of the windows, and was about to carry her off.

“And were you glad to see me?” asked Harry.

“Awfully!” said Katie; “just the same in my dream as I am now, only I can’t see you one bit ­it’s so awfully dark.”

“Are you afraid?” asked Harry, in a trembling voice.

“Afraid?  Oh no.  It’s awfully nice, and all that, you know.”

“But shouldn’t you like to get away out of this?”

“Get away?”

“Yes, if I could get off, and get you off too?”

“But how can we go?”

“Well, I don’t know just yet.  I only know the way from my room here, and back again; but I may find out something.”

“But that won’t do any good.  Don’t you really know any way out?”

“Not yet, but I hope to find one; I dare say I shall before long.”

“Oh, how delicious! how perfectly delicious that would be!  I do wish that you only could.  It would be quite too awfully nice, you know.”

“I’ll let you know.  I promise you.”

“But then,” said Katie, “you’ll be going off yourself and leaving poor me behind.”

“Leave you!” said Harry, indignantly; “never!”

“Wouldn’t you really?” asked Katie, in a tone of delight.

“Never,” said Harry.  “I wouldn’t stir a step without you.  I’d rather be a prisoner with you than a free man without you.”

Katie drew a long breath.

“Well,” said she, “I think you must be a true friend.”

“I’d rather be here with you,” persisted Harry, “than anywhere in the world without you.”

“If only your passage-way ran outside the building, wouldn’t it be nice?” said Katie.  “Why, we might pop out now, and away we would go, and no one a bit the wiser.”

“And where would you like me to take you?”

“Where?  Oh, anywhere!”

“But where in particular?”

“Oh, I don’t care.  I like Madrid very well, or London; but it’s too rainy there and foggy.”

“Should you like Barcelona?” inquired Harry, tenderly.

“I dare say, though I’ve never been there.  But I don’t half know what I’m talking about, and I think I’ve been mixing up my dreams with real life; and you come so into the middle of a dream that it seems like a continuation of it; and I’m not sure but that this is a dream.  I’m pinching myself too, all the time, and it hurts, so that I think I must be awake.  But, all the same, you really mean what you say?”

“Mean it?  Why, I can’t say one thousandth part of what I really mean.  Don’t you believe it, when you see me here?”

“But I don’t see you at all,” said Katie.

Harry looked at her for a moment, and then said, abruptly,

“Keep your shawl around you, poor little girl; I’m afraid you’ll get cold;” and with tender solicitude he proceeded to draw her shawl tighter around her slender figure.  This was a work which required no little time and skill.  Not a word was now spoken for some time.  This was of course wiser on their part than whispering, for whispers are sometimes dangerous, and may lead to discovery.  But Harry seemed troubled about Katie’s health, and was never satisfied about that shawl.

“You are so very kind!” said Katie, at last.

“It’s because I’m so fond of ­the shawl,” said Harry.  “I love to arrange it for you.  I should like to take it back with me.”

“Should you really?”

“Above all things ­except one.”

“What?”

“Why, of course, I should rather take back with me what’s inside the shawl.”

“Well, I’m sure ‘what’s inside the shawl’ would like very much to get away out of this prison; and so, sir, when you find a way, you must let her know.  But won’t Mr. Russell wake and miss you?”

“Mr. Russell?  Why, he isn’t with me any longer.”

“Isn’t he?”

“No.  I’m all alone.  They took him away, and I suppose he’s alone too.”

“Oh dear!  I hope I sha’n’t be left alone.”

“I hope, if you are, you may be left here.”

“Why?” asked Katie, who knew perfectly well, but liked to hear it stated in plain words.

“Why ­because I could come to see you all the time then, instead of waiting till they’re all asleep.”