CHAPTER XV

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THE SUBTERRANEAN PASSAGE.

"As one who, from the sunshine and the green, Enters the solid darkness of a cave, Nor knows what precipice or pit unseen May yawn before him with its sudden grave, And, with hushed breath, doth often forward lean, Dreaming he hears the splashing of a wave Dimly below, or feels a damper air From out some dreary chasm, he knows not where." --JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL.

On the following day a solemn procession descended the stone steps which led to the door of the famed secret passage, and after some shrieking and pretence at fainting on the part of Lady Rosamond, she and Primrose, attended by Sir Ivor, and preceded by two of the men-servants carrying lanterns, plunged into the dark recesses of the tunnel. At first the darkness and the stooping posture which had to be maintained were considerably trying to the two fair ladies, though, having once started, neither would give in nor own to the slightest fatigue. And as their eyes became more accustomed to the dim light, it seemed to grow stronger and brighter, and they were able to see the ruggedness of their path, and choose their steps more warily. The walls also gradually increased in height, so that in many places they could walk for some distance without stooping, though again at times there would be a sudden fall, and they were fain to crawl on hands and knees through some narrow tunnel, emerging somewhat exhausted, yet finding the situation far too exciting to allow of actual weariness. "I would we could walk through to Bryn Afon!" exclaimed Primrose. "That would be a grand adventure!" "It is little short of twelve miles in distance, my child," said Sir Ivor, "and bravely though you are still travelling, I dare hardly take on me the responsibility of such a journey for either of you! Were Lord Bryn Afon at the castle and aware of our intention, so that he might admit us, and allow of our returning by the road, after sleeping off our fatigues, it would perhaps be another matter." "Ah, I would he were there!" cried Primrose; "yet an he were"--and her face fell--"I might not venture there with you, for by my mother's orders I have ever been most strictly forbidden to set foot within the castle walls. I often marvel why she has such dread of the curse which has fallen upon it." "Bryn Afon Castle is avoided by all," said Sir Ivor, "so that your mother's prohibition is not so passing strange. The rumour of the curse is widely spread over the country hereabouts, and has been so these hundred years and more, and there are few among Lord Bryn Afon's Welsh friends who ever venture a foot therein. In truth, I believe that none are e'er admitted, save only the friends he himself brings with him when he sojourns there awhile, and also myself and Lady Rosamond, the Merediths of Caer Caradoc having ever been faithful friends of the family. Now we will proceed some few yards farther, and shall then arrive at the bottomless well, which you, Primrose, will doubtless contemplate with some interest. And after that, my men, I must bid you return, for we must not forget that we have tender women in our charge, for whom such rude paths were never destined, and we have already walked some three or four miles." "Now, is it not provoking to be a weak woman?" exclaimed Lady Rosamond. "I am just beginning to enjoy most thoroughly my subterranean career, with never a thought of fatigue, and my tyrant orders our return! Ah, let us go on bravely to Bryn Afon. I will bear home the drooping Primrose upon my own shoulders." "It must not be, dear heart," replied Sir Ivor with a smile. "Moreover, you would see no greater wonders than at present. The passage but winds on mile after mile as now, with more or less of roughness on the pathway, and ever and anon blocked with these wearisome tunnels. Within some three miles or so of Bryn Afon it branches off, however, in two directions, one leading quickly to yon fair castle of Craig Arthur, whose wooded heights and peeping grey turrets hanging just above our river we all love so well, the other winding onwards, as you know, to Bryn Afon. Now, beware how you tread. Turn the lantern this way, Llewellyn, and give me your hand, sweet wife, and your other to Primrose. Here is the bottomless well." They stood and looked down into the black abyss, Lady Rosamond and Primrose gazing into its gruesome depths with a sort of fascinated awe. Above the well was an overhanging mass of rock, and the narrow pathway wound so closely round the dark corner that, but for the strong iron rails with which Sir Ivor had of late years securely fenced it in, an unwary passer-by might only too easily plunge by one false step into its yawning depths. "And is there truly no bottom?" asked Primrose, shuddering, as she thought of Jack's fair young daughter, hurrying with giddy footsteps along the rude pathway, and then, but one step more, and cruel death in this horror of darkness! "So it has always been said," answered Sir Ivor, "and the sad story of the boatman's daughter served only to strengthen the idea, since her body was never discovered." "Dad has ever believed," said Primrose, "that her body was caught upon some ledge of rock at an untold depth. Men tried with ropes to discover it, but it was never found, neither could the bottom of the well be reached by the bravest of them. Dad says, too, there is a horrible tale of a wheel far, far below, which sucks down aught that is thrown into the well, and was so devised centuries ago as a horrid punishment for doomed prisoners. But he does not dare to dwell upon so terrible a thought." "It is so, according to the old traditions," said Sir Ivor, "and legend says, moreover, that by placing the ear as close as may be to the surface of the well, the swishing sound of the wheel may be plainly heard." They stooped, leaning their heads through the iron rails, over the top of the well, and from far below heard clearly a faint, whispering sound in the water's black depths, so distant that in the dead silence of the ghostly corridor the ear could but just detect it. Primrose shivered, and Lady Rosamond sprang up, exclaiming, "After that I have had enough and will return home, Ivor, with all dutiful obedience. I have experienced a horror sufficient to satisfy the most morbid craving. Primrose, you are pale as death, and verily your 'each

## particular hair'--and mine likewise--'doth stand on end,' as good

Master Shakespeare hath it. I doubt the wisdom of suffering you to gaze upon this awful spot, child. Tell her a cheerful tale, Ivor, to banish the thought from her mind, else will the vision of the boatman's daughter haunt her to-night in her dreams. Poor old man, I do verily pity him from my heart." "I am glad to have seen the place," said Primrose, "for many a time I have thought upon her sad fate, and have wondered if it could be true. Now I see it is but too likely a fate to befall any rash wanderer in this gruesome darkness. But I cannot forbear thinking that surely those left in charge of the castle were much to blame for letting her by any means gain possession of the key of this horrible place." "The housekeeper, left in charge at the time of the sad occurrence, never recovered from the shock," said Sir Ivor, "and her death was doubtless hastened by the remorse from which she suffered for her carelessness. The girl was however wild and wilful, and none will ever know where the fault lay. I now keep the key ever about my own person, nor dream of leaving it in the care of servants; but without so melancholy a warning, I doubt that I should have been so careful over it, so that I cannot too severely blame those before me for their seeming want of thought. In my father's day the passage had not been long wholly disused, and he was so well accustomed to allow myself and my brothers to roam freely about it, that fear of the well had little place in his mind. For our part, we were bold, lawless young termagants, and having no mother to restrain us, did much as we would, knowing scarce the name of fear. At the time of the accident my father was abroad, and my brothers and myself at Oxford, where I well remember the news reaching us, and our horror at such an event having come to pass in our absence. I was myself, on my return home, lowered into the well so far as the longest ropes would surfer me to descend, but nought was at any time discovered of the poor girl's remains, the bonnet caught on yon ledge of rock close to the well's mouth being the only means of judging of her sad fate."

"And did you and your brothers at any time reach the end of the passage?" asked Primrose, "More than once," answered Sir Ivor, "having agreed beforehand with Lord Bryn Afon, then a boy much of our own age, to admit us. He was but rarely at the castle, his father, the late earl, loving it not much better than his predecessors; but on those rare occasions it was our greatest joy to penetrate into the doomed building, to roam the ancient corridors and wake the echoes in the deserted dwelling-rooms, few of which were maintained in such order as to be habitable." "Then," said Primrose eagerly, "since you have been within the castle, and known the Lord Bryn Afon as a boy, did you never perchance discover the secret of the curse?" "It was a matter on which no word was ever breathed," answered Sir Ivor. "The present earl, as a boy, was ignorant of its nature, and his parents caring not to speak of it, their friends durst not, in kindness, ask them any questions thereon. Since my friend has grown to manhood he has ne'er shown any confidence in me in this particular, ever affecting to treat it lightly, as a thing unworthy of comment. Yet that he does not in his secret heart so regard it is shown plainly enough by the strong aversion he has ever manifested towards his old home." "Methinks it weighs sorely upon Lady Bryn Afon also," said Primrose, "for her face is much worn with care and pain, and often while I was in her company I heard her sigh most sorrowfully when she thought I was not by, and more than once I have found her with tears upon her cheeks." "She has reason for her sorrow," said Lady Rosamond, "for you must know that she married against her father's will, and has ever since been wholly cut off from her own people, and this is ever a most wearing grief to her, indeed so painful that even to me, her friend, she will not speak of it. True, I am much younger than she, and of too frivolous a deportment, I trow, to encourage much secret confidence; yet I have more heart--and so my lord will bear me witness--than one would give me credit for, perchance! But the Lady Bryn Afon is one of those self-contained souls who are by nature strong enough to bear their burdens unaided; and whereas I should betray my griefs to the world with noisy lamentations, she finds greater solace in wrapping them up closely in her own breast. Indeed I should scarce have heard from her own lips even such scanty news of her marriage as I have told you, and have learned it but from a conversation held one day between her husband and mine. The men are greater gossips than we, I warrant you! The unfortunate Lord Bryn Afon confessed that although he had never repented him of his hasty marriage, for the love it had brought him, yet he could but fear the lack of an heir to his house to be a punishment sent by God for his youthful imprudence in marrying secretly, and in spite of the curse he oft bewails his childlessness. Now, Primrose, our gallant feat is accomplished, and though my poor back doth verily ache to distraction, yet I am glad I have done the deed. How good is the daylight! Come, child, we will repair to our chambers, and remove these dust-stained robes, and rest our weary frames awhile ere we are summoned to our evening meal."

It was with great joy that Jack the boatman welcomed his foster-child, on the following day, once more to her riverside home. Tiny indeed it seemed to Primrose, after her week's stay within the spacious old castle, yet her small apartments were so filled with marks of Jack's love and thought for her every want, that she lay down to rest, when night came, full of content, and feeling a sweet sense of pleasure at being once more lulled to rest by the soft plashing of the river, as it rippled over the pebbles below her lattice. Much she had recounted to Jack ere they had sought their rest, and passionately had he clasped her to his breast, when she had told him of her visit to the bottomless well, thanking God from his heart for having given him so sweet a flower in place of the tender blossom so ruthlessly destroyed long years ago! And Primrose, as she nestled in his arms, felt that whatever might lie before her in the future, no life could surely be dearer than the years of happy childhood spent with her tender guardian in the beautiful Gwynnon Valley, where every bird that sang, and every blossom that blew in spring, had whispered thoughts of love and beauty in her ear, and lifted up her soul to God.

* * * * * * *

The talked-of Midsummer Eve excursion to the Craig Aran Pool was not destined to take place the following summer after all, for in the spring of that year Sir Ivor's health gave way, and the whole of that year and the following were spent by himself and his wife abroad; and it was not until the month of April in the year when Primrose reached her twentieth birthday that they returned to Caer Caradoc, and once more took up their abode in their ancient stronghold. Primrose in the meantime had also spent another winter abroad with Lady Bryn Afon, and so the years sped away towards the looked-for yet dreaded time of her coming of age, but one more year hence.

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