and hoping in vain to hear a voice they knew； some of the ashes in
this turret slipped and rolled down。 Startled by the least noise in
that melancholy place； Solomon looked up in his companion’s
face； and saw that he had turned towards the spot； and that he
watched and listened keenly。
He covered the little man’s mouth with his hand； and looked
again。 Instantly； with kindling eyes； he bade him on his life keep
still； and neither speak nor move。 Then holding his breath； and
stooping down； he stole into the turret； with his drawn sword in
his hand； and disappeared。
Terrified to be left there by himself； under such desolate
circumstances； and after all he had seen and heard that night；
Solomon would have followed； but there had been something in
Mr Haredale’s manner and his look； the recollection of which held
him spellbound。 He stood rooted to the spot； and scarcely
venturing to breathe； looked up with mingled fear and wonder。
Again the ashes slipped and rolled—very； very softly—again—
and then again； as though they crumbled underneath the tread of
a stealthy foot。 And now a figure was dimly visible； climbing very
softly； and often stopping to look down； now it pursued its difficult
way； and now it was hidden from the view again。
It emerged once more； into the shadowy and uncertain light—
higher now； but not much； for the way was steep and toilsome； and
its progress very slow。 What phantom of the brain did he pursue；
and why did he look down so constantly？ He knew he was alone。
Surely his mind was not affected by that night’s loss and agony。
He was not about to throw himself headlong from the summit of
the tottering wall。 Solomon turned sick； and clasped his hands。 His
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limbs trembled beneath him； and a cold sweat broke out upon his
pallid face。
If he complied with Mr Haredale’s last injunction now； it was
because he had not the power to speak or move。 He strained his
gaze； and fixed it on a patch of moonlight； into which； if he
continued to ascend； he must soon emerge。 When he appeared
there； he would try to call to him。
Again the ashes slipped and crumbled； some stones rolled
down； and fell with a dull； heavy sound upon the ground below。 He
kept his eyes upon the piece of moonlight。 The figure was coming
on； for its shadow was already thrown upon the wall。 Now it
appeared—and now looked round at him—and now—
The horror…stricken clerk uttered a scream that pierced the air；
and cried； ‘The ghost！ The ghost！’
Long before the echo of his cry had died away； another form
rushed out into the light； flung itself upon the foremost one； knelt
down upon its breast； and clutched its throat with both hands。
‘Villain！’ cried Mr Haredale； in a terrible voice—for it was he。
‘Dead and buried； as all men supposed through your infernal arts；
but reserved by Heaven for this—at last—at last I have you。 You；
whose hands are red with my brother’s blood； and that of his
faithful servant； shed to conceal your own atrocious guilt—You；
Rudge； double murderer and monster； I arrest you in the name of
God； who has delivered you into my hands。 No。 Though you had
the strength of twenty men；’ he added； as the murderer writhed
and struggled； you could not escape me or loosen my grasp to…
night！’
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Chapter 57
arnaby； armed as we have seen； continued to pace up and
Bdown before the stable…door； glad to be alone again； and
heartily rejoicing in the unaccustomed silence and
tranquillity。 After the whirl of noise and riot in which the last two
days had been passed； the pleasures of solitude and peace were
enhanced a thousandfold。 He felt quite happy； and as he leaned
upon his staff and mused； a bright smile overspread his face； and
none but cheerful visions floated into his brain。
Had he no thoughts of her； whose sole delight he was； and
whom he had unconsciously plunged in such bitter sorrow and
such deep affliction？ Oh； yes。 She was at the heart of all his
cheerful hopes and proud reflections。 It was she whom all this
honour and distinction were to gladden； the joy and profit were for
her。 What delight it gave her to hear of the bravery of her poor
boy！ Ah！ He would have known that； without Hugh’s telling him。
And what a precious thing it was to know she lived so happily； and
heard with so much pride （he pictured to himself her look when
they told her） that he was in such high esteem： bold among the
boldest； and trusted before them all！ And when these frays were
over； and the good lord had conquered his enemies； and they were
all at peace again； and he and she were rich； what happiness they
would have in talking of these troubled times when he was a great
soldier： and when they sat alone together in the tranquil twilight；
and she had no longer reason to be anxious for the morrow； what
pleasure would he have in the reflection that this was his doing—
his—poor foolish Barnaby’s； and in patting her on the cheek； and
saying with a merry laugh； ‘Am I silly now； mother—am I silly
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Barnaby Rudge 609
now？’
With a lighter heart and step； and eyes the brighter for the
happy tear that dimmed them for a moment； Barnaby resumed his
walk； and singing gaily to himself； kept guard upon his quiet post。
His comrade Grip； the partner of his watch； though fond of
basking in the sunshine； preferred to…day to walk about the stable；
having a great deal to do in the way of scattering the straw； hiding
under it such small articles as had been casually left about； and
haunting Hugh’s bed； to which he seemed to have taken a
particular attachment。 Sometimes Barnaby looked in and called
him； and then he came hopping out； but he merely did this as a
concession to his master’s weakness； and soon returned again to
his own grave pursuits： peering into the straw with his bill； and
rapidly covering up the place； as if； Midas…like； he were whispering
secrets to the earth and burying them； constantly busying himself
upon the sly； and affecting； whenever Barnaby came past； to look
up in the clouds and have nothing whatever on his mind： in short；
conducting himself； in many respects； in a more than usually
thoughtful； deep； and mysterious manner。
As the day crept on； Barnaby； who had no directions forbidding
him to eat and drink upon his post； but had been； on the contrary；
supplied with a bottle of beer and a basket of provisions；
determined to break his fast； which he had not done since
morning。 To this end； he sat down on the ground before the door；
and putting his staff across his knees in case of alarm or surprise；
summoned Grip to dinner。
This call； the bird obeyed with great alacrity； crying； as he
sidled up to his master； ‘I’m a devil； I’m a Polly； I’m a kettle； I’m a
Protestant； No Popery！’ Having learnt this latter sentiment from
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the gentry among whom he had lived of late； he delivered it with
uncommon emphasis。
‘Well said； Grip！’ cried his master； as he fed him with the
daintiest bits。 ‘Well said； old boy！’
‘Never say die； bow wow wow； keep up your spirits； Grip Grip
Grip； Holloa！ We’ll all have tea； I’m a Protestant kettle； No
Popery！’ cried the raven。
‘Gordon for ever； Grip！’ cried Barnaby。
The raven； placing his head upon the ground； looked at his
master sideways； as though he would have said； ‘Say that again！’
Perfectly understanding his desire； Barnaby repeated the phrase a
great many times。 The bird listened with profound attention；
sometimes repeating the popular cry in a low voice； as if to
compare the two； and try if it would at all help him to this new
accomplishment； sometimes flapping his wings； or barking； and
sometimes in a kind of desperation drawing a multitude of corks；
with extraordinary viciousness。
Barnaby was so intent upon his favourite； that he w
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