CHAPTER LII.
THE UNTOOTHSOME PLUM.
It was a starry night, with a threatening of moonrise, and Dorothy wasanxious to reach the cottage before it grew lighter. But they must notget into the high road at any nearer point than the last practicable,for then they would be more likely to meet soldiers, and Dick's feet tobetray their approach. Over field after field, therefore, they kept on,as fast as Tom, now and then stopping to peer anxiously over the nextfence or into a boundary ditch, could lead the way. At last they reachedthe place by the side of a bridge, where Marquis led Richard off theroad, and there they scrambled up.
'O Lord!' cried Tom, and waked a sentry dozing on the low parapet.
'Who goes there?' he cried, starting up, and catching at his carbine,which leaned against the wall.
'Oh, master!' began Tom, in a voice of terrified appeal; but Dorothyinterrupted him.
'I am an honest woman of the neighbourhood,' she said. 'An' thou wiltcome home with me, I will afford thee a better bed than thou hast there,and also a better breakfast, I warrant thee, than thou had a supper.'
'That is, an' thou be one of the godly,' supplemented Tom.
'I thank thee, mistress,' returned the sentinel, 'but not for theindulgence of carnal appetite will I forsake my post. Who is he goethwith thee?'
'A fellow whose wit is greater than his courage, and yet he goeth withmany for a born fool. A parlous coward he is, else might he now befighting the Amalekites with the sword of the Lord and of Gideon. Yet ingood sooth he serveth me well for the nonce.'
The sentry glanced at Tom, but could see little of him except a longwhite oval, and Tom was now collected enough to put in exercise his bestwisdom, which consisted in holding his tongue.
'Answer me then, mistress, how, being a godly woman, as I doubt not fromthy speech thou art, thee rides thus late with none but a fool to keepthee company? Knowest thou not that the country is full of soldiers,whereof some, though that they be all true-hearted and right-minded men,would not mayhap carry themselves so civil to a woman as corporalBearbanner? And now, I bethink me, thou comest from the direction ofRaglan!'
Here he drew himself up, summoned a voice from his chest a storey or twodeeper, and asked in magisterial tone:
'Whence comest thou, woman? and on what business gaddest thou so late?'
'I am come from visiting at a friend's house, and am now almost on myown farm,' answered Dorothy.
The man turned to Tom, and Dorothy began to regret she had brought him:he was trembling visibly, and his mouth was wide open with terror.
'See,' she said, 'how thy gruff voice terrifieth the innocent! If now heshould fall in a fit thou wert to blame.'
As she spoke she put her hand in her pocket, and taking from it heruntoothsome plum, popped it into Tom's mouth. Instantly he began to makesuch strange uncouth noises that the sentinel thought he had indeedterrified him into a fit.
'I must get him straightway home. Good-night, friend,' said Dorothy, andgiving Dick the rein, she was off like the wind, heedless of the shoutsof the sentinel or the feeble cries of pursuing Tom, who, if he couldnot fight, could run. Following his mistress at great speed, he wasinstantly lost in the darkness, and the sentinel, who had picketed hishorse in a neighbouring field, sat down again on the parapet of thebridge, and began to examine all that Dorothy had said with a wondrousinclination to discover the strong points in it.
Having galloped a little way, Dorothy drew bridle and halted for Tom. Assoon as he came up, she released him, and telling him to lay hold ofDick's mane and run alongside, kept him at a fast trot all the way tohis mother's house.
The moon had risen before they reached it, and Dorothy was thereforeglad, when she dismounted at the gate, to think she need ride nofurther. But while Tom went in to rouse his mother, she let Dick have afew bites of the grass before taking him into the kitchen--lest theroundheads should find him. The next moment, however, out came Tom interror, saying there was a man in his mother's closet, and he feared theroundheads were in possession.
'Then take care of thyself, Tom,' said Dorothy; and mounting instantly,she made Dick scramble up into the fields that lay between the cottageand her own house, and set off at full speed across the grass in themoonlight--an ethereal pleasure which not even an anxious secret couldblast.
Through a gap in the hedge she had just popped into the second field,when she heard the click of a flint-lock, and a voice she thought sheknew ordering her to stand: within a few yards of her was again aroundhead soldier. If she rode away, he would fire at her; that mode ofescape therefore she would keep for a last chance. The moon by this timewas throwing an unclouded light from more than half a disc upon thefield.
Keeping a sharp eye upon the man's movements, she allowed him to comewithin a pace or two, but the moment he would have taken Dick by thebridle she was three or four yards away.
'Fright not my horse, friend,' she said.--'But how!' she added, suddenlyremembering him, 'is it possible? Master Upstill! Gently, gently, littleDick! Master Upstill is an old friend. What! hast thou too turnedsoldier? Left thy last and lapstone and turned soldier, master Upstill?'
'I have left all and followed him, mistress,' answered Cast-down.
'Art sure he called thee, master Upstill?'
'I heard him with my own ears.'
'Called thee to be a shedder of blood, master Upstill?'
'Called me to be a fisher of men, and thee I catch, mistress--thus,'returned the man, stepping quickly forward and making another grasp atDick's bridle.
It was all Dorothy could do to keep herself from giving him a smart blowacross the face with her whip, and riding off. But she gave Dick the cutinstead, and sent him yards away.
'Poor Dick! poor Dick!' she said, patting his neck; 'be quiet; masterUpstill will do thee no wrong. Be quiet, little man.'
As she thus talked to her genet, Upstill again drew near, now more surlythan at first.
'Say what manner of woman art thou?' he demanded with pompous anger.'Whence comes thou, and whither does thee go?'
'Home,' answered Dorothy.
'What place calls thee home?'
'Why! dost not know me, master Upstill? When I was a little one, thoudidst make my shoes for me.'
'I trust it will be forgiven me, mistress. Truly I had ne'er made shoefor thee an' I had foreseen what thee would come to! For I make nofarther doubt thou art a consorter with malignants, harlots, andpapists.'
Again he clutched at her bridle, and this time, whether it was Dorothyor Dick's fault, with success. Dorothy dropped the bridle, put her handin her pocket, struck Dick smartly with her whip, and as he reared inconsequence, drew it across Upstill's eyes, and so found the chance ofadministering her bolus.
It was thoroughly effective. The fellow left his hold of the bridle, andbegan a series of efforts to remove it, which rapidly grew wilder andwilder, until at last his gestures were those of a maniac.
'There!' she cried, as she bounded from him, 'take thy first lesson ingood manners. No one can rid thee of that mouthful, which is as thy evilwords returned to choke thee!--Thou hadst better keep me in sight,' sheadded, as she gave Dick his head, 'for no one else can free thee.'
Upstill ceased his futile efforts, caught up his carbine, and fired--notwithout risk to Dorothy, for he was far too wrathful to take the aimthat would have ensured her safety. But she rode on unhurt, meditatinghow to secure Upstill when she got him to Wyfern, whither she doubtednot he would follow her. Her difficulties were not yet past, however,for just as she reached her own ground, she was once again met by theorder to stand.
This time it came in a voice which, notwithstanding the anxiety itbrought with it, was almost as welcome as well known, and yet made hertremble for the first time that night: it was the voice of RichardHeywood. Dick also seemed to know it, for he stood without a hint fromhis mistress, while, through the last hedge that parted her from thelittle yet remaining of the property of her fathers, came the man sheloved--an enemy between her and her ow
n.
The marquis's request to be allowed to communicate with the king hadbeen an unfortunate one. It increased suspicion of all kinds, renderedthe various reports of the landing of the Irish army under lordGlamorgan more credible, roused the resolution to render allcommunication impossible, and led to the drawing of a cordon around theplace that not a soul should pass unquestioned. The measure would indeedhave been unavailing had the garrison been as able as formerly to makesallies; but ever since colonel Morgan received his reinforcement, theissuing troopers had been invariably met at but a few yards from home,and immediately driven in again by largely superior numbers. Still thecordon required a good many more men than the besieging party could wellspare without too much weakening their positions, and they had thereforesought the aid of all the gentlemen of puritian politics in thevicinity, and of course that of Mr. Heywood. With the men his fathersent, Richard himself offered his services, in the hope that, at thecoming fall of the stronghold, he might have a chance of being useful toDorothy. They had given the cordon a wide extension, in order that anissuing messenger might not perceive his danger until he was too farfrom the castle to regain it, and then by capturing him might acquireinformation. Hence it came that posts could be assigned to Richard andhis men within such a distance of Redware as admitted of their beingwith their own people when off duty.