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

person only accustomed to rough ways and meagre living its

luxury will make a memory which will serve in time as an example to

be aimed at. I shall write again soon. Don’t hesitate to ask any

favour which I may be able to confer on you. So long!

 

Your affectionate cousin,

 

ERNEST ROGER HALBARD MELTON.

 

Extract from Letter from E. Bingham Trent to Queen Teuta of the Blue

Mountains.

 

… So I thought the best way to serve that appalling cad would be

to take him at his word, and put in his literary contribution in

full. I have had made and attested a copy of his “Record,” as he

calls it, so as to save you trouble. But I send the book itself,

because I am afraid that unless you see his words in his own writing,

you will not believe that he or anyone else ever penned seriously a

document so incriminating. I am sure he must have forgotten what he

had written, for even such a dull dog as he is could never have made

public such a thing knowingly.

 

Such a nature has its revenges on itself. In this case the officers

of revenge are his ipsissima verba.

 

RUPERT’S JOURNAL—Continued.

February 1, 1909.

 

All is now well in train. When the Czar of Russia, on being asked by

the Sclavs (as was meet) to be the referee in the “Balkan

Settlement,” declined on the ground that he was himself by inference

an interested party, it was unanimously agreed by the Balkan rulers

that the Western King should be asked to arbitrate, as all concerned

had perfect confidence in his wisdom, as well as his justice. To

their wish he graciously assented. The matter has now been for more

than six months in his hands, and he has taken endless trouble to

obtain full information. He has now informed us through his

Chancellor that his decision is almost ready, and will be

communicated as soon as possible.

 

We have another hunting-party at Vissarion next week. Teuta is

looking forward to it with extraordinary interest. She hopes then to

present to our brothers of the Balkans our little son, and she is

eager to know if they endorse her mother-approval of him.

 

RUPERT’S JOURNAL—Continued.

April 15, 1909.

 

The arbitrator’s decision has been communicated to us through the

Chancellor of the Western King, who brought it to us himself as a

special act of friendliness. It met with the enthusiastic approval

of all. The Premier remained with us during the progress of the

hunting-party, which was one of the most joyous occasions ever known.

We are all of good heart, for the future of the Balkan races is now

assured. The strife—internal and external—of a thousand years has

ceased, and we look with hope for a long and happy time. The

Chancellor brought messages of grace and courtliness and friendliness

to all. And when I, as spokesman of the party, asked him if we might

convey a request of His Majesty that he would honour us by attending

the ceremony of making known formally the Balkan Settlement, he

answered that the King had authorized him to say that he would, if

such were wished by us, gladly come; and that if he should come, he

would attend with a fleet as an escort. The Chancellor also told me

from himself that it might be possible to have other nationalities

represented on such a great occasion by Ambassadors and even fleets,

though the monarchs themselves might not be able to attend. He

hinted that it might be well if I put the matter in train. (He

evidently took it for granted that, though I was only one of several,

the matter rested with me—possibly he chose me as the one to whom to

make the confidence, as I was born a stranger.) As we talked it

over, he grew more enthusiastic, and finally said that, as the King

was taking the lead, doubtless all the nations of the earth friendly

to him would like to take a part in the ceremony. So it is likely to

turn out practically an international ceremony of a unique kind.

Teuta will love it, and we shall all do what we can.

 

JANET MACKELPIE’S NOTES.

June 1, 1909.

 

Our dear Teuta is full of the forthcoming celebration of the Balkan

Federation, which is to take place this day month, although I must

say, for myself, that the ceremony is attaining to such dimensions

that I am beginning to have a sort of vague fear of some kind. It

almost seems uncanny. Rupert is working unceasingly—has been for

some time. For weeks past he seems to have been out day and night on

his aeroplane, going through and round over the country arranging

matters, and seeing for himself that what has been arranged is being

done. Uncle Colin is always about, too, and so is Admiral Rooke.

But now Teuta is beginning to go with Rupert. That girl is simply

fearless—just like Rupert. And they both seem anxious that little

Rupert shall be the same. Indeed, he is the same. A few mornings

ago Rupert and Teuta were about to start just after dawn from the top

of the Castle. Little Rupert was there—he is always awake early and

as bright as a bee. I was holding him in my arms, and when his

mother leant over to kiss him good-bye, he held out his arms to her

in a way that said as plainly as if he had spoken, “Take me with

you.”

 

She looked appealingly at Rupert, who nodded, and said: “All right.

Take him, darling. He will have to learn some day, and the sooner

the better.” The baby, looking eagerly from one to the other with

the same questioning in his eyes as there is sometimes in the eyes of

a kitten or a puppy—but, of course, with an eager soul behind it—

saw that he was going, and almost leaped into his mother’s arms. I

think she had expected him to come, for she took a little leather

dress from Margareta, his nurse, and, flushing with pride, began to

wrap him in it. When Teuta, holding him in her arms, stepped on the

aeroplane, and took her place in the centre behind Rupert, the young

men of the Crown Prince’s Guard raised a cheer, amid which Rupert

pulled the levers, and they glided off into the dawn.

 

The Crown Prince’s Guard was established by the mountaineers

themselves the day of his birth. Ten of the biggest and most

powerful and cleverest young men of the nation were chosen, and were

sworn in with a very impressive ceremony to guard the young Prince.

They were to so arrange and order themselves and matters generally

that two at least of them should always have him, or the place in

which he was, within their sight. They all vowed that the last of

their lives should go before harm came to him. Of course, Teuta

understood, and so did Rupert. And these young men are the persons

most privileged in the whole Castle. They are dear boys, every one

of them, and we are all fond of them and respect them. They simply

idolize the baby.

 

Ever since that morning little Rupert has, unless it is at a time

appointed for his sleeping, gone in his mother’s arms. I think in

any other place there would be some State remonstrance at the whole

royal family being at once and together in a dangerous position, but

in the Blue Mountains danger and fear are not thought of—indeed,

they can hardly be in their terminology. And I really think the

child enjoys it even more than his parents. He is just like a little

bird that has found the use of his wings. Bless him!

 

I find that even I have to study Court ritual a little. So many

nationalities are to be represented at the ceremony of the “Balkan

Settlement,” and so many Kings and Princes and notabilities of all

kinds are coming, that we must all take care not to make any

mistakes. The Press alone would drive anyone silly. Rupert and

Teuta come and sit with me sometimes in the evening when we are all

too tired to work, and they rest themselves by talking matters over.

Rupert says that there will be over five hundred reporters, and that

the applications for permission are coming in so fast that there may

be a thousand when the day comes. Last night he stopped in the

middle of speaking of it, and said:

 

“I have an inspiration! Fancy a thousand journalists,—each wanting

to get ahead of the rest, and all willing to invoke the Powers of

Evil for exclusive information! The only man to look after this

department is Rooke. He knows how to deal with men, and as we have

already a large staff to look after the journalistic guests, he can

be at the head, and appoint his own deputies to act for him.

Somewhere and sometime the keeping the peace will be a matter of

nerve and resolution, and Rooke is the man for the job.”

 

We were all concerned about one thing, naturally important in the

eyes of a woman: What robes was Teuta to wear? In the old days,

when there were Kings and Queens, they doubtless wore something

gorgeous or impressive; but whatever it was that they wore has gone

to dust centuries ago, and there were no illustrated papers in those

primitive days. Teuta was talking to me eagerly, with her dear

beautiful brows all wrinkled, when Rupert who was reading a bulky

document of some kind, looked up and said:

 

“Of course, darling, you will wear your Shroud?”

 

“Capital!” she said, clapping her hands like a joyous child. “The

very thing, and our people will like it.”

 

I own that for a moment I was dismayed. It was a horrible test of a

woman’s love and devotion. At a time when she was entertaining Kings

and notabilities in her own house—and be sure they would all be

decked in their finery—to have to appear in such a garment! A plain

thing with nothing even pretty, let alone gorgeous, about it! I

expressed my views to Rupert, for I feared that Teuta might be

disappointed, though she might not care to say so; but before he

could say a word Teuta answered:

 

“Oh, thank you so much, dear! I should love that above everything,

but I did not like to suggest it, lest you should think me arrogant

or presuming; for, indeed, Rupert, I am very proud of it, and of the

way our people look on it.”

 

“Why not?” said Rupert, in his direct way. “It is a thing for us all

to be proud of; the nation has already adopted it as a national

emblem—our emblem of courage and devotion and patriotism, which will

always, I hope, be treasured beyond price by the men and women of our

Dynasty, the Nation, that is—of the Nation that is to be.”

 

Later on in the evening we had a strange endorsement of the national

will. A “People’s Deputation” of mountaineers, without any official

notice or introduction, arrived at the Castle late in the evening in

the manner established by Rupert’s “Proclamation of Freedom,” wherein

all citizens were entitled to send a deputation to the King, at will

and in private, on any subject of State importance. This deputation

was composed of seventeen men, one selected from each political

section, so that the body as a whole represented the entire nation.

They were of all sorts of social rank and all degrees of fortune, but

they were mainly “of the people.” They spoke hesitatingly—possibly

because Teuta, or even because I, was present—but with