The Lady of the Shroud - Bram Stoker (phonics reader txt) 📗

not be long before she

knows more than I do of the facts of the whole affair. And her

reading of them and of the Lady of the Shroud, round whom they

circle, may not be the same as mine. Well, that will be all right

too. Aunt Janet loves me—God knows I have good reason to know that

all through these years—and whatever view she may take, her acts

will be all I could wish. But I shall come in for a good lot of

scolding, I am sure. By the way, I ought to think of that; if Aunt

Janet scolds me, it is a pretty good proof that I ought to be

scolded. I wonder if I dare tell her all. No! It is too strange.

She is only a woman, after all: and if she knew I loved … I wish

I knew her name, and thought—as I might myself do, only that I

resist it—that she is not alive at all. Well, what she would either

think or do beats me. I suppose she would want to slipper me as she

used to do when I was a wee kiddie—in a different way, of course.

 

May 3, 1907.

 

I really could not go on seriously last night. The idea of Aunt

Janet giving me a licking as in the dear old days made me laugh so

much that nothing in the world seemed serious then. Oh, Aunt Janet

is all right whatever comes. That I am sure of, so I needn’t worry

over it. A good thing too; there will be plenty to worry about

without that. I shall not check her telling me of her visions,

however; I may learn something from them.

 

For the last four-and-twenty hours I have, whilst awake, been looking

over Aunt Janet’s books, of which I brought a wheen down here. Gee

whizz! No wonder the old dear is superstitious, when she is filled

up to the back teeth with that sort of stuff! There may be some

truth in some of those yarns; those who wrote them may believe in

them, or some of them, at all events. But as to coherence or logic,

or any sort of reasonable or instructive deduction, they might as

well have been written by so many hens! These occult book-makers

seem to gather only a lot of bare, bald facts, which they put down in

the most uninteresting way possible. They go by quantity only. One

story of the kind, well examined and with logical comments, would be

more convincing to a third party than a whole hecatomb of them.

 

RUPERT’S JOURNAL—Continued.

May 4, 1907.

 

There is evidently something up in the country. The mountaineers are

more uneasy than they have been as yet. There is constant going to

and fro amongst them, mostly at night and in the grey of the morning.

I spend many hours in my room in the eastern tower, from which I can

watch the woods, and gather from signs the passing to and fro. But

with all this activity no one has said to me a word on the subject.

It is undoubtedly a disappointment to me. I had hoped that the

mountaineers had come to trust me; that gathering at which they

wanted to fire their guns for me gave me strong hopes. But now it is

apparent that they do not trust me in full—as yet, at all events.

Well, I must not complain. It is all only right and just. As yet I

have done nothing to prove to them the love and devotion that I feel

to the country. I know that such individuals as I have met trust me,

and I believe like me. But the trust of a nation is different. That

has to be won and tested; he who would win it must justify, and in a

way that only troublous times can allow. No nation will—can—give

full meed of honour to a stranger in times of peace. Why should it?

I must not forget that I am here a stranger in the land, and that to

the great mass of people even my name is unknown. Perhaps they will

know me better when Rooke comes back with that store of arms and

ammunition that he has bought, and the little warship he has got from

South America. When they see that I hand over the whole lot to the

nation without a string on them, they may begin to believe. In the

meantime all I can do is to wait. It will all come right in time, I

have no doubt. And if it doesn’t come right, well, we can only die

once!

 

Is that so? What about my Lady of the Shroud? I must not think of

that or of her in this gallery. Love and war are separate, and may

not mix—cannot mix, if it comes to that. I must be wise in the

matter; and if I have got the hump in any degree whatever, must not

show it.

 

But one thing is certain: something is up, and it must be the Turks.

From what the Vladika said at that meeting they have some intention

of an attack on the Blue Mountains. If that be so, we must be ready;

and perhaps I can help there. The forces must be organized; we must

have some method of communication. In this country, where are

neither roads nor railways nor telegraphs, we must establish a

signalling system of some sort. THAT I can begin at once. I can

make a code, or adapt one that I have used elsewhere already. I

shall rig up a semaphore on the top of the Castle which can be seen

for an enormous distance around. I shall train a number of men to be

facile in signalling. And then, should need come, I may be able to

show the mountaineers that I am fit to live in their hearts …

 

And all this work may prove an anodyne to pain of another kind. It

will help, at any rate, to keep my mind occupied whilst I am waiting

for another visit from my Lady of the Shroud.

 

RUPERT’S JOURNAL—Continued.

May 18, 1907.

 

The two weeks that have passed have been busy, and may, as time goes

on, prove eventful. I really think they have placed me in a

different position with the Blue Mountaineers—certainly so far as

those in this part of the country are concerned. They are no longer

suspicious of me—which is much; though they have not yet received me

into their confidence. I suppose this will come in time, but I must

not try to hustle them. Already they are willing, so far as I can

see, to use me to their own ends. They accepted the signalling idea

very readily, and are quite willing to drill as much as I like. This

can be (and I think is, in its way) a pleasure to them. They are

born soldiers, every man of them; and practice together is only a

realization of their own wishes and a further development of their

powers. I think I can understand the trend of their thoughts, and

what ideas of public policy lie behind them. In all that we have

attempted together as yet they are themselves in absolute power. It

rests with them to carry out any ideas I may suggest, so they do not

fear any assumption of power or governance on my part. Thus, so long

as they keep secret from me both their ideas of high policy and their

immediate intentions, I am powerless to do them ill, and I MAY be of

service should occasion arise. Well, all told, this is much.

Already they accept me as an individual, not merely one of the mass.

I am pretty sure that they are satisfied of my personal bona fides.

It is policy and not mistrust that hedges me in. Well, policy is a

matter of time. They are a splendid people, but if they knew a

little more than they do they would understand that the wisest of all

policies is trust—when it can be given. I must hold myself in

check, and never be betrayed into a harsh thought towards them. Poor

souls! with a thousand years behind them of Turkish aggression,

strenuously attempted by both force and fraud, no wonder they are

suspicious. Likewise every other nation with whom they have ever

come in contact—except one, my own—has deceived or betrayed them.

Anyhow, they are fine soldiers, and before long we shall have an army

that cannot be ignored. If I can get so that they trust me, I shall

ask Sir Colin to come out here. He would be a splendid head for

their army. His great military knowledge and tactical skill would

come in well. It makes me glow to think of what an army he would

turn out of this splendid material, and one especially adapted for

the style of fighting which would be necessary in this country.

 

If a mere amateur like myself, who has only had experience of

organizing the wildest kind of savages, has been able to advance or

compact their individual style of fighting into systematic effort, a

great soldier like MacKelpie will bring them to perfection as a

fighting machine. Our Highlanders, when they come out, will

foregather with them, as mountaineers always do with each other.

Then we shall have a force which can hold its own against any odds.

I only hope that Rooke will be returning soon. I want to see those

Ingis-Malbron rifles either safely stored in the Castle or, what is

better, divided up amongst the mountaineers—a thing which will be

done at the very earliest moment that I can accomplish it. I have a

conviction that when these men have received their arms and

ammunition from me they will understand me better, and not keep any

secrets from me.

 

All this fortnight when I was not drilling or going about amongst the

mountaineers, and teaching them the code which I have now got

perfected, I was exploring the side of the mountain nearest to here.

I could not bear to be still. It is torture to me to be idle in my

present condition of mind regarding my Lady of the Shroud …

Strange I do not mind mentioning the word to myself now. I used to

at first; but that bitterness has all gone away.

 

RUPERT’S JOURNAL—Continued.

May 19, 1907.

 

I was so restless early this morning that before daylight I was out

exploring on the mountain-side. By chance I came across a secret

place just as the day was breaking. Indeed, it was by the change of

light as the first sun-rays seemed to fall down the mountain-side

that my attention was called to an opening shown by a light behind

it. It was, indeed, a secret place—so secret that I thought at

first I should keep it to myself. In such a place as this either to

hide in or to be able to prevent anyone else hiding in might on

occasion be an asset of safety.

 

When, however, I saw indications rather than traces that someone had

already used it to camp in, I changed my mind, and thought that

whenever I should get an opportunity I would tell the Vladika of it,

as he is a man on whose discretion I can rely. If we ever have a war

here or any sort of invasion, it is just such places that may be

dangerous. Even in my own case it is much too near the Castle to be

neglected.

 

The indications were meagre—only where a fire had been on a little

shelf of rock; and it was not possible, through the results of

burning vegetation or scorched grass, to tell how