The Lair of the White Worm, Bram Stoker [novels to read .TXT] 📗

she would be able to go through with it.  Sir Nathaniel seemed just as usual—suave, dignified, and thoughtful—perfect master of himself.

To her husband, it was evident that Mimi was ill at ease.  The way she kept turning her head to look around her, the quick coming and going of the colour of her face, her hurried breathing, alternating with periods of suspicious calm, were evidences of mental perturbation.  To her, the attitude of Lady Arabella seemed compounded of social sweetness and personal consideration.  It would be hard to imagine more thoughtful and tender kindness towards an honoured guest.

When tea was over and the servants had come to clear away the cups, Lady Arabella, putting her arm round Mimi’s waist, strolled with her into an adjoining room, where she collected a number of photographs which were scattered about, and, sitting down beside her guest, began to show them to her.  While she was doing this, the servants closed all the doors of the suite of rooms, as well as that which opened from the room outside—that of the well-hole into the avenue.  Suddenly, without any seeming cause, the light in the room began to grow dim.  Sir Nathaniel, who was sitting close to Mimi, rose to his feet, and, crying, “Quick!” caught hold of her hand and began to drag her from the room.  Adam caught her other hand, and between them they drew her through the outer door which the servants were beginning to close.  It was difficult at first to find the way, the darkness was so great; but to their relief when Adam whistled shrilly, the carriage and horses, which had been waiting in the angle of the avenue, dashed up.  Her husband and Sir Nathaniel lifted—almost threw—Mimi into the carriage.  The postillion plied whip and spur, and the vehicle, rocking with its speed, swept through the gate and tore up the road.  Behind them was a hubbub—servants rushing about, orders being shouted out, doors shutting, and somewhere, seemingly far back in the house, a strange noise.  Every nerve of the horses was strained as they dashed recklessly along the road.  The two men held Mimi between them, the arms of both of them round her as though protectingly.  As they went, there was a sudden rise in the ground; but the horses, breathing heavily, dashed up it at racing speed, not slackening their pace when the hill fell away again, leaving them to hurry along the downgrade.

It would be foolish to say that neither Adam nor Mimi had any fear in returning to Doom Tower.  Mimi felt it more keenly than her husband, whose nerves were harder, and who was more inured to danger.  Still she bore up bravely, and as usual the effort was helpful to her.  When once she was in the study in the top of the turret, she almost forgot the terrors which lay outside in the dark.  She did not attempt to peep out of the window; but Adam did—and saw nothing.  The moonlight showed all the surrounding country, but nowhere was to be observed that tremulous line of green light.

The peaceful night had a good effect on them all; danger, being unseen, seemed far off.  At times it was hard to realise that it had ever been.  With courage restored, Adam rose early and walked along the Brow, seeing no change in the signs of life in Castra Regis.  What he did see, to his wonder and concern, on his returning homeward, was Lady Arabella, in her tight-fitting white dress and ermine collar, but without her emeralds; she was emerging from the gate of Diana’s Grove and walking towards the Castle.  Pondering on this, and trying to find some meaning in it, occupied his thoughts till he joined Mimi and Sir Nathaniel at breakfast.  They began the meal in silence.  What had been had been, and was known to them all.  Moreover, it was not a pleasant topic.

A fillip was given to the conversation when Adam told of his seeing Lady Arabella, on her way to Castra Regis.  They each had something to say of her, and of what her wishes or intentions were towards Edgar Caswall.  Mimi spoke bitterly of her in every aspect.  She had not forgotten—and never would—never could—the occasion when, to harm Lilla, the woman had consorted even with the nigger.  As a social matter, she was disgusted with her for following up the rich landowner—“throwing herself at his head so shamelessly,” was how she expressed it.  She was interested to know that the great kite still flew from Caswall’s tower.  But beyond such matters she did not try to go.  The only comment she made was of strongly expressed surprise at her ladyship’s “cheek” in ignoring her own criminal acts, and her impudence in taking it for granted that others had overlooked them also.

CHAPTER XXIV—A STARTLING PROPOSITION

The more Mimi thought over the late events, the more puzzled she was.  What did it all mean—what could it mean, except that there was an error of fact somewhere.  Could it be possible that some of them—all of them had been mistaken, that there had been no White Worm at all?  On either side of her was a belief impossible of reception.  Not to believe in what seemed apparent was to destroy the very foundations of belief . . . yet in old days there had been monsters on the earth, and certainly some people had believed in just such mysterious changes of identity.  It was all very strange.  Just fancy how any stranger—say a doctor—would regard her, if she were to tell him that she had been to a tea-party with an antediluvian monster, and that they had been waited on by up-to-date men-servants.

Adam had returned, exhilarated by his walk, and more settled in his mind than he had been for some time.  Like Mimi, he had gone through the phase of doubt and inability to believe in the reality of things, though it had not affected him to the same extent.  The idea, however, that his wife was suffering ill-effects from her terrible ordeal, braced him up.  He remained with her for a time, then he sought Sir Nathaniel in order to talk over the matter with him.  He knew that the calm common sense and self-reliance of the old man, as well as his experience, would be helpful to them all.

Sir Nathaniel had come to the conclusion that, for some reason which he did not understand, Lady Arabella had changed her plans, and, for the present at all events, was pacific.  He was inclined to attribute her changed demeanour to the fact that her influence over Edgar Caswall was so far increased, as to justify a more fixed belief in his submission to her charms.

As a matter of fact, she had seen Caswall that morning when she visited Castra Regis, and they had had a long talk together, during which the possibility of their union had been discussed.  Caswall, without being enthusiastic on the subject, had been courteous and attentive; as she had walked back to Diana’s Grove, she almost congratulated herself on her new settlement in life.  That the idea was becoming fixed in her mind, was shown by a letter which she wrote later in the day to Adam Salton, and sent to him by hand.  It ran as follows:

“DEAR MR. SALTON,

“I wonder if you would kindly advise, and, if possible, help me in a matter of business.  I have been for some time trying to make up my mind to sell Diana’s Grove, I have put off and put off the doing of it till now.  The place is my own property, and no one has to be consulted with regard to what I may wish to do about it.  It was bought by my late husband, Captain Adolphus Ranger March, who had another residence, The Crest, Appleby.  He acquired all rights of all kinds, including mining and sporting.  When he died, he left his whole property to me.  I shall feel leaving this place, which has become endeared to me by many sacred memories and affections—the recollection of many happy days of my young married life, and the more than happy memories of the man I loved and who loved me so much.  I should be willing to sell the place for any fair price—so long, of course, as the purchaser was one I liked and of whom I approved.  May I say that you yourself would be the ideal person.  But I dare not hope for so much.  It strikes me, however, that among your Australian friends may be someone who wishes to make a settlement in the Old Country, and would care to fix the spot in one of the most historic regions in England, full of romance and legend, and with a never-ending vista of historical interest—an estate which, though small, is in perfect condition and with illimitable possibilities of development, and many doubtful—or unsettled—rights which have existed before the time of the Romans or even Celts, who were the original possessors.  In addition, the house has been kept up to the dernier cri.  Immediate possession can be arranged.  My lawyers can provide you, or whoever you may suggest, with all business and historical details.  A word from you of acceptance or refusal is all that is necessary, and we can leave details to be thrashed out by our agents.  Forgive me, won’t you, for troubling you in the matter, and believe me, yours very sincerely.

“ARABELLA MARCH.”

Adam read this over several times, and then, his mind being made up, he went to Mimi and asked if she had any objection.  She answered—after a shudder—that she was, in this, as in all things, willing to do whatever he might wish.

“Dearest, I am willing that you should judge what is best for us.  Be quite free to act as you see your duty, and as your inclination calls.  We are in the hands of God, and He has hitherto guided us, and will do so to His own end.”

From his wife’s room Adam Salton went straight to the study in the tower, where he knew Sir Nathaniel would be at that hour.  The old man was alone, so, when he had entered in obedience to the “Come in,” which answered his query, he closed the door and sat down beside him.

“Do you think, sir, that it would be well for me to buy Diana’s Grove?”

“God bless my soul!” said the old man, startled, “why on earth would you want to do that?”

“Well, I have vowed to destroy that White Worm, and my being able to do whatever I may choose with the Lair would facilitate matters and avoid complications.”

Sir Nathaniel hesitated longer than usual before speaking.  He was thinking deeply.

“Yes, Adam, there is much common sense in your suggestion, though it startled me at first.  I think that, for all reasons, you would do well to buy the property and to have the conveyance settled at once.  If you want more money than is immediately convenient, let me know, so that I may be your banker.”

“Thank you, sir, most heartily; but I have more money at immediate call than I shall want.  I am glad you approve.”

“The property is historic, and as time goes on it will increase in value.  Moreover, I may tell you something, which indeed is only a surmise, but which, if I am right, will add great value to the place.”  Adam listened.  “Has it ever struck you why the old name, ‘The Lair of the White Worm,’ was given?  We know that there was a snake which in early days was called a worm; but why white?”

“I really don’t know, sir; I never thought of it.  I simply took it for granted.”

“So did I at first—long ago.  But later I puzzled my brain for a reason.”

“And what was the reason, sir?”

“Simply and solely because the snake or worm was white.  We are near the county of Stafford, where the great industry of china-burning was originated and grew.  Stafford owes much of its wealth to the large deposits of the rare china clay found in it from time to time.  These deposits become in time pretty well exhausted; but for centuries Stafford adventurers looked for the special clay, as Ohio and Pennsylvania farmers and explorers looked for oil.  Anyone owning real estate on which china clay can be discovered strikes a sort of gold mine.”

“Yes, and then—”  The young man looked puzzled.

“The original ‘Worm’ so-called, from which the name of the place came, had to find a direct way down to the marshes and the mud-holes.  Now, the clay is easily penetrable, and the original hole probably pierced a bed of china clay.  When once the way was made it would become a sort of highway for the Worm.  But as much movement was necessary to ascend such a great height, some of the clay would become attached to its rough skin by attrition.  The