The Lady of the Shroud by Bram Stoker (knowledgeable books to read .txt) 📖

destruction on a hecatomb of our malignant foes. You who

have received for the nation the splendid gift of the little warship,

which already represents a new era in naval armament, can understand

the great-souled generosity of the man who has restored the vast

possessions of my House. On our way hither from Ilsin, Rupert Sent

Leger made known to me the terms of the trust of his noble uncle,

Roger Melton, and—believe me that he did so generously, with a joy

that transcended my own—restored to the last male of the Vissarion

race the whole inheritance of a noble line.

 

“And now, my Lords of the Council, I come to another matter, in which

I find myself in something of a difficulty, for I am aware that in

certain ways you actually know more of it than even I myself do. It

is regarding the marriage of my daughter to Rupert Sent Leger. It is

known to me that the matter has been brought before you by the

Archbishop, who, as guardian of my daughter during my absence on the

service of the nation, wished to obtain your sanction, as till my

return he held her safety in trust. This was so, not from any merit

of mine, but because she, in her own person, had undertaken for the

service of our nation a task of almost incredible difficulty. My

Lords, were she child of another father, I should extol to the skies

her bravery, her self-devotion, her loyalty to the land she loves.

Why, then, should I hesitate to speak of her deeds in fitting terms,

since it is my duty, my glory, to hold them in higher honour than can

any in this land? I shall not shame her—or even myself—by being

silent when such a duty urges me to speak, as Voivode, as trusted

envoy of our nation, as father. Ages hence loyal men and women of

our Land of the Blue Mountains will sing her deeds in song and tell

them in story. Her name, Teuta, already sacred in these regions,

where it was held by a great Queen, and honoured by all men, will

hereafter be held as a symbol and type of woman’s devotion. Oh, my

Lords, we pass along the path of life, the best of us but a little

time marching in the sunlight between gloom and gloom, and it is

during that march that we must be judged for the future. This brave

woman has won knightly spurs as well as any Paladin of old. So is it

meet that ere she might mate with one worthy of her you, who hold in

your hands the safety and honour of the State, should give your

approval. To you was it given to sit in judgment on the worth of

this gallant Englisher, now my son. You judged him then, before you

had seen his valour, his strength, and skill exercised on behalf of a

national cause. You judged wisely, oh, my brothers, and out of a

grateful heart I thank you one and all for it. Well has he justified

your trust by his later acts. When, in obedience to the summons of

the Vladika, he put the nation in a blaze and ranged our boundaries

with a ring of steel, he did so unknowing that what was dearest to

him in the world was at stake. He saved my daughter’s honour and

happiness, and won her safety by an act of valour that outvies any

told in history. He took my daughter with him to bring me out from

the Silent Tower on the wings of the air, when earth had for me no

possibility of freedom—I, that had even then in my possession the

documents involving other nations which the Soldan would fain have

purchased with the half of his empire.

 

“Henceforth to me, Lords of the Council, this brave man must ever be

as a son of my heart, and I trust that in his name grandsons of my

own may keep in bright honour the name which in glorious days of old

my fathers made illustrious. Did I know how adequately to thank you

for your interest in my child, I would yield up to you my very soul

in thanks.”

 

The speech of the Voivode was received with the honour of the Blue

Mountains—the drawing and raising of handjars

 

FROM RUPERT’S JOURNAL.

July 14, 1907.

 

For nearly a week we waited for some message from Constantinople,

fully expecting either a declaration of war, or else some inquiry so

couched as to make war an inevitable result. The National Council

remained on at Vissarion as the guests of the Voivode, to whom, in

accordance with my uncle’s will, I had prepared to retransfer all

his estates. He was, by the way, unwilling at first to accept, and

it was only when I showed him Uncle Roger’s letter, and made him read

the Deed of Transfer prepared in anticipation by Mr. Trent, that he

allowed me to persuade him. Finally he said:

 

“As you, my good friends, have so arranged, I must accept, be it only

in honour to the wishes of the dead. But remember, I only do so but

for the present, reserving to myself the freedom to withdraw later if

I so desire.”

 

But Constantinople was silent. The whole nefarious scheme was one of

the “put-up jobs” which are part of the dirty work of a certain order

of statecraft—to be accepted if successful; to be denied in case of

failure.

 

The matter stood thus: Turkey had thrown the dice—and lost. Her

men were dead; her ship was forfeit. It was only some ten days after

the warship was left derelict with every living thing—that is,

everything that had been living—with its neck broken, as Rooke

informed me, when he brought the ship down the creek, and housed it

in the dock behind the armoured gates—that we saw an item in The

Roma copied from The Constantinople Journal of July 9:

 

“LOSS OF AN OTTOMAN IRONCLAD WITH ALL HANDS.

 

“News has been received at Constantinople of the total loss, with all

hands, of one of the newest and finest warships in the Turkish fleet-

-The Mahmoud, Captain Ali Ali—which foundered in a storm on the

night of July 5, some distance off Cabrera, in the Balearic Isles.

There were no survivors, and no wreckage was discovered by the ships

which went in relief—the Pera and the Mustapha—or reported from

anywhere along the shores of the islands, of which exhaustive search

was made. The Mahmoud was double-manned, as she carried a full extra

crew sent on an educational cruise on the most perfectly

scientifically equipped warship on service in the Mediterranean

waters.”

 

When the Voivode and I talked over the matter, he said:

 

“After all, Turkey is a shrewd Power. She certainly seems to know

when she is beaten, and does not intend to make a bad thing seem

worse in the eyes of the world.”

 

Well, ‘tis a bad wind that blows good to nobody. As The Mahmoud was

lost off the Balearics, it cannot have been her that put the

marauders on shore and trained her big guns on Ilsin. We take it,

therefore, that the latter must have been a pirate, and as we have

taken her derelict in our waters, she is now ours in all ways.

Anyhow, she is ours, and is the first ship of her class in the navy

of the Blue Mountains. I am inclined to think that even if she was—

or is still—a Turkish ship, Admiral Rooke would not be inclined to

let her go. As for Captain Desmond, I think he would go straight out

of his mind if such a thing was to be even suggested to him.

 

It will be a pity if we have any more trouble, for life here is very

happy with us all now. The Voivode is, I think, like a man in a

dream. Teuta is ideally happy, and the real affection which sprang

up between them when she and Aunt Janet met is a joy to think of. I

had posted Teuta about her, so that when they should meet my wife

might not, by any inadvertence, receive or cause any pain. But the

moment Teuta saw her she ran straight over to her and lifted her in

her strong young arms, and, raising her up as one would lift a child,

kissed her. Then, when she had put her sitting in the chair from

which she had arisen when we entered the room, she knelt down before

her, and put her face down in her lap. Aunt Janet’s face was a

study; I myself could hardly say whether at the first moment surprise

or joy predominated. But there could be no doubt about it the

instant after. She seemed to beam with happiness. When Teuta knelt

to her, she could only say:

 

“My dear, my dear, I am glad! Rupert’s wife, you and I must love

each other very much.” Seeing that they were laughing and crying in

each other’s arms, I thought it best to come away and leave them

alone. And I didn’t feel a bit lonely either when I was out of sight

of them. I knew that where those two dear women were there was a

place for my own heart.

 

When I came back, Teuta was sitting on Aunt Janet’s knee. It seemed

rather stupendous for the old lady, for Teuta is such a splendid

creature that even when she sits on my own knee and I catch a glimpse

of us in some mirror, I cannot but notice what a nobly-built girl she

is.

 

My wife was jumping up as soon as I was seen, but Aunt Janet held her

tight to her, and said:

 

“Don’t stir, dear. It is such happiness to me to have you there.

Rupert has always been my ‘little boy,’ and, in spite of all his

being such a giant, he is so still. And so you, that he loves, must

be my little girl—in spite of all your beauty and your strength—and

sit on my knee, till you can place there a little one that shall be

dear to us all, and that shall let me feel my youth again. When

first I saw you I was surprised, for, somehow, though I had never

seen you nor even heard of you, I seemed to know your face. Sit

where you are, dear. It is only Rupert—and we both love him.”

 

Teuta looked at me, flushing rosily; but she sat quiet, and drew the

old lady’s white head on her young breast.

 

JANET MACKELPIE’S NOTES.

July 8, 1907.

 

I used to think that whenever Rupert should get married or start on

the way to it by getting engaged—I would meet his future wife with

something of the same affection that I have always had for himself.

But I know now that what was really in my mind was jealousy, and that

I was really fighting against my own instincts, and pretending to

myself that I was not jealous. Had I ever had the faintest idea that

she would be anything the least like Teuta, that sort of feeling

should never have had even a foothold. No wonder my dear boy is in

love with her, for, truth to tell, I am in love with her myself. I

don’t think I ever met a creature—a woman creature, of course, I

mean—with so many splendid qualities. I almost fear to say it, lest

it should seem to myself wrong; but I think she is as good as a woman

as Rupert is as a man. And what more than that can I say? I thought

I loved her and trusted her, and knew her all