He dragged Marchdale to the identical spot of earth on which he had lain
so long; and, as Sir Francis Varney had left the key of the padlock
which bound the chains together in it, he, in a few moments, had
succeeded in placing the villain Marchdale in the same durance from
which he had himself shortly since escaped. "Remain there," he said, "until some one comes to rescue you. I will not
let you starve to death, but I will give you a long fast; and, when I
come again, it shall be along with some of the Bannerworth family, to
show them what a viper they have fostered in their hearts." Marchdale was just sufficiently conscious now to feel all the realities
of his situation. In vain he attempted to rise from his prostrate
position. The chains did their duty, keeping down a villain with the
same means that they had held in ignominious confinement a true man. He was in a perfect agony, inasmuch as he considered that he would be
allowed to remain there to starve to death, thus achieving for himself a
more horrible death than any he had ever thought of inflicting. "Villain!" exclaimed Charles Holland, "you shall there remain; and, let
you have what mental sufferings you may, you richly deserve them." He heeded not the cries of Marchdale--he heeded not his imprecations any
more than he did his prayers; and the arch hypocrite used both in
abundance. Charles was but too happy once more to look upon the open
sky, although it was then in darkness, to heed anything that Marchdale,
in the agony to which he was now reduced, might feel inclined to say;
and, after glancing around him for some few moments, when he was free of
the ruins, and inhaling with exquisite delight the free air of the
surrounding meadows, he saw, by the twinkling of the lights, in which
direction the town lay, and knowing that by taking a line in that path,
and then after a time diverging a little to the right, he should come to
Bannerworth Hall, he walked on, never in his whole life probably feeling
such an enjoyment of the mere fact of existence as at such a moment as
that of exquisite liberty. Our readers may with us imagine what it is to taste the free, fresh air
of heaven, after being long pent up, as he, Charles Holland, had been,
in a damp, noisome dungeon, teeming with unwholesome exhalations. They
may well suppose with what an amount of rapture he now found himself
unrestrained in his movements by those galling fetters which had hung
for so long a period upon his youthful limbs, and which, not
unfrequently in the despair of his heart, he had thought he should
surely die in. And last, although not least in his dear esteem, did the rapturous
thought of once more looking in the sweet face of her he loved come
cross him with a gush of delight. "Yes!" he exclaimed, as he quickened his pace; "yes! I shall be able to
tell Flora Bannerworth how well and how truly I love her. I shall be
able to tell her that, in my weary and hideous imprisonment, the thought
alone of her has supported me." As he neared the Hall, he quickened his pace to such an extent, that
soon he was forced to pause altogether, as the exertion he had
undertaken pretty plainly told him that the imprisonment, scanty diet,
and want of exercise, which had been his portion for some time past, had
most materially decreased his strength. His limbs trembled, and a profuse perspiration bedewed his brow,
although the night was rather cold than otherwise. "I am very weak," he said; "and much I wonder now that I succeeded in
overcoming that villain Marchdale; who, if I had not done so, would most
assuredly have murdered me." And it was a wonder; for Marchdale was not an old man, although he might
be considered certainly as past the prime of life, and he was of a
strong and athletic build. But it was the suddenness of his attack upon
him which had given Charles Holland the great advantage, and had caused
the defeat of the ruffian who came bent on one of the most cowardly and
dastardly murders that could be committed--namely, upon an unoffending
man, whom he supposed to be loaded with chains, and incapable of making
the least efficient resistance. Charles soon again recovered sufficient breath and strength to proceed
towards the Hall, and now warned, by the exhaustion which had come over
him that he had not really anything like strength enough to allow him to
proceed rapidly, he walked with slow and deliberate steps. This mode of proceeding was more favourable to reflection than the wild,
rapid one which he had at first adopted, and in all the glowing colours
of youthful and ingenious fancy did he depict to himself the surprise
and the pleasure that would beam in the countenance of his beloved Flora
when she should find him once again by her side. Of course, he, Charles, could know nothing of the contrivances which had
been resorted to, and which the reader may lay wholly to the charge of
Marchdale, to blacken his character, and to make him appear faithless to
the love he had professed. Had he known this, it is probable that indignation would have added
wings to his progress, and he would not have been able to proceed at the
leisurely pace he felt that his state of physical weakness dictated to
him. And now he saw the topmost portion at Bannerworth Hall pushing out from
amongst the trees with which the ancient pile was so much surrounded,
and the sight of the home of his beloved revived him, and quickened the
circulation of the warm blood in his veins. "I shall behold her now," he said--"I shall behold her how! A few
minutes more, and I shall hold her to my heart--that heart which has
been ever hers, and which carried her image enshrined in its deepest
recesses, even into the gloom of a dungeon!" But let us, while Charles Holland is indulging in these delightful
anticipations--anticipations which, we regret, in consequence of the
departure of the Bannerworths from the Hall, will not be realized so
soon as he supposes--look back upon the discomfited hypocrite and
villain, Marchdale, who occupies his place in the dungeon of the old
ruins. Until Charles Holland actually had left the strange, horrible, and
cell-like place, he could scarcely make up his mind that the young man
entertained a serious intention of leaving him there. Perhaps he did not think any one could be so cruel and so wicked as he
himself; for the reader will no doubt recollect that his, Marchdale's,
counsel to Varney, was to leave Charles Holland to his fate, chained
down as he was in the dungeon, and that fate would have been the
horrible one of being starved to death in the course of a few days. When now, however, he felt confident that he was deserted--when he heard
the sound of Charles Holland's retreating footsteps slowly dying away in
the distance, until not the faintest echo of them reached his ears, he
despaired indeed; and the horror he experienced during the succeeding
ten minutes, might be considered an ample atonement for some of his
crimes.