Chapter 3

“I am, indeed,” he said. “I failed to quell it, as every Catafalque, however brave and resolute, has failed yet. It checks all my accounts, and woe to me if that cold, withering eye discovers the slightest error—even in the pence column! I could not describe the extent of my bondage to you, my daughter, or the humiliation of having to go and tremble monthly before that awful presence.

“Not even yet, old as I am, have I grown quite accustomed to it!”

Never, in my wildest imaginings, had I anticipated anything one quarter so dreadful as this; but still I clung to the hope that it was impossible to bring me into the affair.

“But, Sir Paul,” I said—”Sir Paul, you—you mustn’t stop there, or you’ll alarm Chlorine more than there’s any need to do. She—ha, ha!—don’t you see, she has got some idea into her head that I have to go through much the same sort of thing. Just explain that to her. I’m not a Catafalque, Chlorine, so it—it can’t interfere with me. That is so, isn’t it, Sir Paul? Good heavens, sir, don’t torture her like this!” I cried, as he was silent. “Speak out!”

“You mean well, Augustus,” he said, “but the time for deceiving her has gone by; she must know the worst. Yes, my poor child,” he continued to Chlorine, whose eyes were wide with terror—though I fancy mine were even wider—”unhappily, though our beloved Augustus is not a Catafalque himself, he has of his own free will brought himself within the influence of the Curse, and he, too, at the appointed hour, must keep the awful assignation, and brave all that the most fiendish malevolence can do to shake his resolution.”

I could not say a single word; the horror of the idea was altogether too much for me, and I fell back on my chair in a state of speechless collapse.

“You see,” Sir Paul went on explaining, “it is not only all new baronets, but every one who would seek an alliance with the females of our race, who must, by the terms of that strange bequest, also undergo this trial. It may be in some degree owing to this necessity that, ever since Humfrey de Catafalque’s diabolical testament first took effect, every maiden of our House has died a spinster.” (Here Chlorine hid her face with a low wail.) “In 1770, it is true, one solitary suitor was emboldened by love and daring to face the ordeal. He went calmly and resolutely to the chamber where the Curse was then lodged, and the next morning they found him outside the door—a gibbering maniac!”

I writhed on my chair. “Augustus!” cried Chlorine wildly, “promise me you will not permit the Curse to turn you into a gibbering maniac. I think if I saw you gibber I should die!”

I was on the verge of gibbering then; I dared not trust myself to speak.

“Nay, Chlorine,” said Sir Paul more cheerfully “there is no cause for alarm; all has been made smooth for Augustus.” (I began to brighten a little at this.) “His Aunt Petronia had made a special study of the old-world science of incantation, and had undoubtedly succeeded at last in discovering the master-word which, employed according to her directions, would almost certainly break the unhallowed spell. In her compassionate attachment to us, she formed the design of persuading a youth of blameless life and antecedents to present himself as our champion, and the reports she had been given of our dear Augustus’s irreproachable character led her to select him as a likely instrument. And her confidence in his generosity and courage was indeed well-founded, for he responded at once to the appeal of his departed aunt, and, with her instructions for his safeguard, and the consciousness of his virtue as an additional protection, there is hope, my child, strong hope, that, though the struggle may be a long and bitter one, yet Augustus will emerge a victor!”