CHAPTER VI
A DANGEROUS TRIP TO DERBY-TOWN
The next morning broke brightly, but soon clouds began to gather and astorm seemed imminent. We feared that the gloomy prospect of the sky mightkeep Dorothy and Madge at home, but long before the appointed hour Johnand I were at the Royal Arms watching eagerly for the Haddon coach. At theinn we occupied a room from which we could look into the courtyard, and atthe window we stood alternating between exaltation and despair.
When my cogitations turned upon myself--a palpitating youth ofthirty-five, waiting with beating heart for a simple blind girl littlemore than half my age; and when I remembered how for years I had laughedat the tenderness of the fairest women of the French and Scottishcourts--I could not help saying to myself, "Poor fool! you have achievedan early second childhood." But when I recalled Madge in all her beauty,purity, and helplessness, my cynicism left me, and I, who had enjoyed allof life's ambitious possibilities, calmly reached the conclusion that itis sometimes a blessed privilege to be a fool. While I dwelt on thoughtsof Madge, all the latent good within me came uppermost. There is latentgood in every man, though it may remain latent all his life. Goodresolves, pure thoughts, and noble aspirations--new sensations to me, Iblush to confess--bubbled in my heart, and I made a mental prayer, "Ifthis is folly, may God banish wisdom." What is there, after all is said,in wisdom, that men should seek it? Has it ever brought happiness to itspossessor? I am an old man at this writing. I have tasted all the cups oflife, and from the fulness of my experience I tell you that the simplelife is the only one wherein happiness is found. When you permit yourheart and your mind to grow complex and wise, you make nooks and cranniesfor wretchedness to lodge in. Innocence is Nature's wisdom; knowledge isman's folly.
An hour before noon our patience was rewarded when we saw the Haddon Hallcoach drive into the courtyard with Dawson on the box. I tried to makemyself believe that I did not wish Lady Crawford were ill. But there islittle profit in too close scrutiny of our deep-seated motives, and inthis case I found no comfort in self-examination. I really did wish thatAunt Dorothy were ill.
My motive studying, however, was brought to a joyous end when I saw WillDawson close the coach door after Madge and Dorothy had alighted.
How wondrously beautiful they were! Had we lived in the days when Olympusruled the world, John surely would have had a god for his rival. Dorothyseemed luminous, so radiant was she with the fire of life. As for Madge,had I beheld a corona hovering over her head I should have thought it inall respects a natural and appropriate phenomenon--so fair and saintlikedid she appear to me. Her warm white furs and her clinging gown of softlight-colored woollen stuff seemed to be a saint's robe, and her daintylittle hat, fashioned with ermine about the edge of the rim--well, thatwas the corona, and I was ready to worship.
Dorothy, as befitted her, wore a blaze of harmonious colors and lookedlike the spirit of life and youth. I wish I could cease rhapsodizing overthose two girls, but I cannot. You may pass over it as you read, if you donot like it.
"Ye gods! did ever a creature so perfect as she tread the earth?" askedJohn, meaning, of course, Dorothy.
"No," answered I, meaning, of course, Madge.
The girls entered the inn, and John and I descended to the tap-room forthe purpose of consulting Will Dawson concerning the state of AuntDorothy's health.
When we entered the tap-room Will was standing near the fireplace with amug of hot punch in his hand. When I touched him, he almost dropped themug so great was his surprise at seeing me.
"Sir Mal--" he began to say, but I stopped him by a gesture. He instantlyrecovered his composure and appeared not to recognize me.
I spoke in broken English, for, as you know, I belong more to France thanto any other country. "I am Sir Francois de Lorraine," said I. "I wish toinquire if Lady Crawford is in good health?"
"Her ladyship is ill, sir, I am sorry to say," responded Will, taking offhis hat. "Mistress Vernon and Lady Madge Stanley are at the inn. If youwish to inquire more particularly concerning Lady Crawford's health, Iwill ask them if they wish to receive you. They are in the parlor."
Will was the king of trumps!
"Say to them," said I, "that Sir Francois de Lorraine--mark the namecarefully, please--and his friend desire to make inquiry concerning LadyCrawford's health, and would deem it a great honor should the ladies grantthem an interview."
Will's countenance was as expressionless as the face upon the mug fromwhich he had been drinking. "I shall inform the ladies of your honor'srequest." He thereupon placed the half-emptied mug upon the fire-shelfand left the room.
When Will announced his errand to the girls, Dorothy said in surprise:--
"Sir Francois de Lorraine? That is the name of the Grand Duc de Guise, butsurely--Describe him to me, Will."
"He is about your height, Mistress Dorothy, and is very handsome,"responded Will.
The latter part of Will's description placed me under obligation to him tothe extent of a gold pound sterling.
"Ah, it is John!" thought Dorothy, forgetting the fact that John was agreat deal taller than she, but feeling that Will's description of "veryhandsome" could apply to only one man in the world. "He has takenMalcolm's name." Then she said, "Bring him to us, Will. But who is thefriend? Do you know him? Tell me his appearance."
"I did not notice the other gentleman," replied Will, "and I can tell younothing of him."
"Will, you are a very stupid man. But bring the gentlemen here." Dorothyhad taken Will into her confidence to the extent of telling him that agentleman would arrive at the Royal Arms who would inquire for LadyCrawford's health, and that she, Dorothy, would fully inform the gentlemanupon that interesting topic. Will may have had suspicions of his own, butif so, he kept them to himself, and at least did not know that thegentleman whom his mistress expected to see was Sir John Manners. Neitherdid he suspect that fact. Dawson had never seen Manners, and did not knowhe was in the neighborhood of Derby. The fact was concealed from Dawson byDorothy not so much because she doubted him, but for the reason that shewished him to be able truthfully to plead innocence in case trouble shouldgrow out of the Derby-town escapade.
"I wonder why John did not come alone?" thought Dorothy. "This friend ofhis will be a great hindrance."
Dorothy ran to the mirror and hurriedly gave a few touches to her hair,pressing it lightly with her soft flexible fingers here, and tucking in astray curl there, which for beauty's sake should have been allowed to hangloose. She was standing at the pier-glass trying to see the back of herhead when Will knocked to announce our arrival.
"Come," said Dorothy.
Will opened the door and held it for us to pass in. Madge was seated nearthe fire. When we entered Dorothy was standing with great dignity in thecentre of the floor, not of course intending to make an exhibition ofdelight over John in the presence of a stranger. But when she saw that Iwas the stranger, she ran to me with outstretched hands.
"Good morning, Mistress Vernon," said I, in mock ceremoniousness.
"Oh, Malcolm! Malcolm!" cried Madge, quickly rising from her chair. "Youare cruel, Dorothy, to surprise me in this fashion."
"I, too, am surprised. I did not know that Malcolm was coming," repliedDorothy, turning to give welcome to John. Then I stepped to Madge's sideand took her hands, but all I could say was "Madge! Madge!" and all shesaid was "Malcolm! Malcolm!" yet we seemed to understand each other.
John and Dorothy were likewise stricken with a paucity of words, but theyalso doubtless understood each other. After a moment or two there fellupon me a shower of questions from Dorothy.
"Did you not go to France? How happens it that you are in Derby-town?Where did you meet Sir John? What a delightful surprise you have given us!Nothing was wanting to make us happy but your presence."
"I am so happy that it frightens me," said Dorothy in ecstasy. "Troublewill come, I am sure. One extreme always follows another. The pendulumalways swings as far back as it goes forward. But we are happy no
w, aren'twe, Madge? I intend to remain so while I can. The pendulum may swing asfar backward as it chooses hereafter. Sufficient to the day is the evilthereof. Sometimes the joy is almost sufficient, isn't it, Madge?"
"The evil is more than sufficient some days," answered Madge.
"Come, Madge, don't be foreboding."
"Dorothy, I have not met the other gentleman," said Madge.
"Ah, pardon me. In my surprise I forgot to present you. Lady MadgeStanley, let me present Sir John Manners."
"Sir John Manners!" cried Madge, taking a step backward. Her surprise wasso great that she forgot to acknowledge the introduction. "Dorothy, whatmeans this?" she continued.
"It means," replied Dorothy, nervously, "that Sir John is my very dearfriend. I will explain it to you at another time."
We stood silently for a few moments, and John said:--
"I hope I may find favor in your heart, Lady Madge. I wish to greet youwith my sincere homage."
"Sir John, I am glad to greet you, but I fear the pendulum of whichDorothy spoke will swing very far backward erelong."
"Let it swing as far back as it chooses," answered Dorothy, with a toss ofher head, "I am ready to buy and to pay for happiness. That seems to bethe only means whereby we may have it. I am ready to buy it with pain anyday, and am willing to pay upon demand. Pain passes away; joy lastsforever."
"I know," said Sir John, addressing Madge, "I know it is not prudent forMalcolm and me to be here to-day; but imprudent things seem to be the mostdelightful."
"For men, Sir John," returned Madge. "Upon women they leave their mark."
"I fear you are right," he answered. "I had not thought of my visit inthat light. For Mistress Vernon's sake it is better that I do not remainin Derby."
"For Mistress Vernon's sake you shall remain," cried that impetuous youngwoman, clutching John's arm.
After a time, Dorothy wishing to visit one of the shops to make purchases,it was agreed between us that we should all walk out. Neither Dorothy norMadge had ever before visited Derby-town. John and I had visited the placebut once; that was upon the occasion of our first meeting. No one in thetown knew us, and we felt safe in venturing forth into the streets. So wehelped Dorothy and Madge to don their furs, and out we went happier andmore reckless than four people have any good right to be. But beforesetting out I went to the tap-room and ordered dinner.
I found the host and directed him to prepare a dozen partridges in a pie,a haunch of venison, a few links of German sausage, and a capon. The hostinformed me that he had in his pantry a barrel of roots called potatoeswhich had been sent to him by a sea-captain who had recently returned fromthe new world. He hurried away and brought a potato for inspection. It wasof a gray brown color and near the size of an egg. The landlord assured methat it was delicious when baked, and I ordered four, at the cost of acrown each. I understand that my Lord Raleigh claims to have brought thefirst potatoes and tobacco into England in '85; but I know that I smokedtobacco in '66, and I saw potatoes at the Royal Arms in Derby-town in '67.I also ordered another new dish for our famous dinner. It was a brownbeverage called coffee. The berries from which the beverage is made minehost showed to me, and said they had been brought to him by a sea-faringman from Arabia. I ordered a pot of the drink at a cost of three crowns. Ihave heard it said that coffee was not known in Europe or in England tillit was introduced by Rawolf in '73, but I saw it at the Royal Arms in '67.In addition to this list, I ordered for our drinking sweet wine fromMadeira and red wine from Burgundy. The latter-named wine had begun togrow in favor at the French court when I left France five years before. Itwas little liked in England. All these dainties were rare at the time ofwhich I write; but they have since grown into considerable use, and Idoubt not, as we progress in luxury, they will become common articles offood upon the tables of the rich. Prongs, or forks, as they are called,which by some are used in cutting and eating one's food at table, I alsopredict will become implements of daily use. It is really a filthyfashion, which we have, of handling food with our fingers. The Italianshave used forks for some time, but our preachers speak against them,saying God has given us our fingers with which to eat, and that it isimpious to thwart his purposes by the use of forks. The preachers willprobably retard the general use of forks among the common people.
After I had given my order for dinner we started out on our ramble throughDerby-town.
Shortly after we left the inn we divided into couples for the ostensiblereason that we did not wish to attract too much attention--Dorothy andJohn, Madge and I! Our real reason for separating was--but you understand.
Madge's hand lay like a span of snow upon my arm, and--but this time Iwill restrain my tendency to rhapsodize.
We walked out through those parts of the town which were little used, andMadge talked freely and happily.
She fairly babbled, and to me her voice was like the murmurings of therivers that flowed out of paradise.
We had agreed with John and Dorothy to meet them at the Royal Arms in onehour, and that time had almost passed when Madge and I turned our facestoward the inn.
When we were within a short distance of our hostelry we saw a crowdgathered around a young man who was standing on a box. He was speaking ina mournful, lugubrious voice and accompanied his words with violentgesticulations. Out of curiosity we stopped to listen, and learned thatreligion was our orator's theme.
I turned to a man standing near me and asked:--
"Who is the fellow speaking?"
"The pious man is Robert Brown. He is exhorting in the name of the Lord ofHosts."
"The pious Robert Brown?" I queried, "exhorting in the name of--of theLord of where, did you say?"
"Hosts," laconically responded my friend, while listening intently to thewords of Brown.
"Hosts, say you? Who is he?" I asked of my interesting neighbor. "I knowhim not."
"Doubtless you know Him not," responded the man, evidently annoyed at myinterruption and my flippancy.
After a moment or two I, desiring to know more concerning the orator,asked:--
"Robert Brown, say you?"
"Even he," came the response. "It will be good for your soul if you butlisten to him in a prayerful mood. He is a young man upon whom the Spirithath descended plenteously."
"The Spirit?" I asked.
"Ay," returned my neighbor.
I could not extract another word from him, so I had the worst of theencounter.
We had been standing there but a short time when the young exhorterdescended from his improvised pulpit and passed among the crowd for thepurpose of collecting money. His harangue had appeared ridiculous to me,but Madge seemed interested in his discourse. She said:--
"He is very earnest, Malcolm," and at once my heart went out to the youngenthusiast upon the box. One kind word from Madge, and I was the fellow'sfriend for life. I would have remained his friend had he permitted me thathigh privilege. But that he would not do. When he came to me, I droppedinto his hat a small silver piece which shone brightly among a few blackcopper coins. My liberal contribution did not induce him to kindness, but,on the contrary, it attracted his attention to the giver. He looked at thesilver coin, and then turning his solemn gaze upon me, eyed me insolentlyfrom head to foot. While doing so a look of profound disgust spread overhis mournful countenance. After a calm survey of my person, which to mewas uncomfortably long, he turned to the bystanders, and in the samehigh-pitched, lugubrious voice which he had used when exhorting, said:--
"Brethren, here behold ye the type of anti-Christ," and he waved his thinhand toward me much to my amusement and annoyance. "Here," said he, "wefind the leading strings to all that is iniquitous--vanity. It isbetokened in his velvets, satins, and laces. Think ye, young man," hesaid, turning to me, "that such vanities are not an abomination in theeyes of the God of Israel?"
"I believe that the God of Israel cares nothing about my apparel," Ireplied, more amused than angered. He paid no attention to my remark.
"And t
his young woman," he continued, pointing to Madge, "this youngwoman, daughter of the Roman harlot, no doubt, she also is arrayed insilks, taffetas, and fine cloth. Look ye, friends, upon this abominablecollar of Satan; this ruff of fine linen, all smeared in the devil's ownliquor, starch. Her vanity is an offence in the nostrils of God's people."
As he spoke he stretched forth his hand and caught in his clawlike graspthe dainty white ruff that encircled Madge's neck. When I saw his act, myfirst impulse was to run him through, and I drew my sword half from itsscabbard with that purpose. But he was not the sort of a man upon whom Icould use my blade. He was hardly more than a boy--a wild, half-crazedfanatic, whose reason, if he had ever possessed any, had been lost in theCharybdis of his zeal. He honestly thought it was his duty to insultpersons who apparently disagreed with him. Such a method of proselyting isreally a powerful means of persuasion among certain classes, and it hasalways been used by men who have successfully founded permanent religioussects. To plant successfully a religious thought or system requires moreviolent aggression than to conquer a nation.
Since I could not run the fellow through, I drew back my arm, and strikingas lightly as possible, I laid our zealous friend sprawling on his back.Thus had I the honor of knocking down the founder of the Brownists.
If I mistake not, the time will come, if these men are allowed to haranguethe populace, when the kings of England will be unable to accomplish thefeat of knocking down Brown's followers. Heresies, like noxious weeds,grow without cultivation, and thrive best on barren soil. Or shall I saythat, like the goodly vine, they bear better fruit when pruned? I cannotfully decide this question for myself; but I admire these sturdy fanaticswho so passionately love their own faith, and so bitterly hate all others,and I am almost prepared to say that each new heresy brings to the world abetter orthodoxy.
For a little time after my encounter with Brown, all my skill was neededto ward off the frantic hero. He quickly rose to his feet, and, with thehelp of his friends, seemed determined to spread the gospel by tearing meto pieces. My sword point kept the rabble at a respectful distance for awhile, but they crowded closely upon me, and I should have been compelledto kill some of them had I not been reenforced by two men who came to myhelp and laid about them most joyfully with their quarterstaffs. A fewbroken heads stemmed for a moment the torrent of religious enthusiasm, andduring a pause in the hostilities I hurriedly retreated with Madge,ungratefully leaving my valiant allies to reap the full reward of victoryshould the fortunes of war favor them.
Madge was terribly frightened, and with her by my side I, of course, wouldnot have remained to fight the redoubtable Bayard himself.
We hurried forward, but before we reached the inn we were overtaken by ourallies whom we had abandoned. Our friends were young men. One wore a rich,half-rustic habit, and the other was dressed as a horse boy. Both wereintoxicated. I had been thankful for their help; but I did not want theircompany.
"How now, Cousin Madge?" said our richly dressed ally. "What in thedevil's name has brought you into this street broil?"
"Ah, Cousin James, is it you?" replied the trembling girl.
"Yes, but who is your friend that so cleverly unloaded his quarrel uponus? Hell's fires! but they were like a swarm of wasps. Who is your friend,Madge?"
"Sir Malcolm Vernon," replied Madge. "Let me present you, Sir Malcolm, tomy cousin, Lord James Stanley."
I offered my hand to his Lordship, and said:--
"I thank you much for your timely help. I should not have deserted you hadI not felt that my first duty was to extricate Lady Madge from thedisagreeable situation. We must hasten away from here, or the mad rabblewill follow us."
"Right you are, my hearty," returned Stanley, slapping me on the shoulder."Of course you had to get the wench away. Where do you go? We will bearyou company."
I longed to pay the fellow for his help by knocking him down; but thepossibilities of trouble ahead of us were already too great, and I forcedmyself to be content with the prowess already achieved.
"But you have not told me what brought you into the broil," asked hisLordship, as we walked toward the inn.
"Sir Malcolm and I were walking out to see the town and--"
"To see the town? By gad, that's good, Cousin Madge. How much of it didyou see? You are as blind as an owl at noon," answered his Lordship.
"Alas! I am blind," returned Madge, clinging closely to me, and shrinkingfrom her cousin's terrible jest. I could not think of anythingsufficiently holy and sacred upon which to vow my vengeance against thisfellow, if the time should ever come when I dared take it.
"Are you alone with this--this gentleman?" asked his Lordship, graspingMadge by the arm.
"No," returned Madge, "Dorothy is with us."
"She is among the shops," I volunteered reluctantly.
"Dorothy? Dorothy Vernon? By gad, Tod, we are in luck. I must see thewench I am to marry," said his Lordship, speaking to his companion, thestable boy. "So Dorothy is with you, is she, cousin? I haven't seen herfor years. They say she is a handsome filly now. By gad, she had room toimprove, for she was plain enough, to frighten rats away from a barn whenI last saw her. We will go to the inn and see for ourselves, won't we,Tod? Dad's word won't satisfy us when it comes to the matter of marrying,will it, Tod?"
Tod was the drunken stable boy who had assisted his Lordship and me inour battle with the Brownists.
I was at a loss what course to pursue. I was forced to submit to thisfellow's company, and to endure patiently his insolence. But John andDorothy would soon return, and there is no need that I should explain thedangers of the predicament which would then ensue.
When we were within a few yards of the inn door I looked backward and sawDorothy and John approaching us. I held up my hand warningly. John caughtmy meaning, and instantly leaving Dorothy's side, entered an adjacentshop. My movement had attracted Stanley's attention, and he turned in thedirection I had been looking. When he saw Dorothy, he turned again to meand asked:--
"Is that Dorothy Vernon?"
"Yes," I replied.
"Look at her, Tod!" exclaimed my lord, "look at her, Tod! The dad wasright about her, after all. I thought the old man was hoaxing me when hetold me that she was beautiful. Holy Virgin, Tod, did you ever seeanything so handsome? I will take her quick enough; I will take her. Dadwon't need to tease me. I'm willing."
Dorothy approached to within a few yards of us, and my Lord Stanleystepped forward to meet her.
"Ye don't know me, do ye?" said Stanley.
Dorothy was frightened and quickly stepped to my side.
"I--I believe not," responded Dorothy.
"Lord James Stanley," murmured Madge, who knew of the approaching Stanleymarriage.
"Madge is right," returned. Stanley, grinning foolishly. "I am your cousinJames, but not so much of a cousin that I cannot be more than cousin,heh?" He laughed boisterously, and winking at Tod, thrust his thumb intothat worthy's ribs. "Say, Tod, something more than cousin; that's thething, isn't it, Tod?"
John was standing half-concealed at the door of the shop in which he hadsought refuge. Dorothy well knew the peril of the situation, and when Ifrowned at her warningly, she caught the hint that she should not resentStanley's words, however insulting and irritating they might become.
"Let us go to the inn," said Dorothy.
"That's the thing to do. Let us go to the inn and have dinner," saidStanley. "It's two hours past dinner time now, and I'm almost famished.We'll have a famous dinner. Come, cousin," said he, addressing Dorothy."We'll have kidneys and tripe and--"
"We do not want dinner," said Dorothy. "We must return home at once. SirMalcolm, will you order Dawson to bring out the coach?"
We went to the inn parlor, and I, loath to do so, left the ladies withStanley and his horse-boy friend while I sought Dawson for the purpose oftelling him to fetch the coach with all haste.
"We have not dined," said the forester.
"We shall not dine," I answered. "Fetch the co
ach with all the haste youcan make." The bystanders in the tap-room were listening, and I continued,"A storm is brewing, and we must hasten home."
True enough, a storm was brewing.
When I left Dawson, I hurriedly found John and told him we were preparingto leave the inn, and that we would expect him to overtake us on the roadto Rowsley.
I returned to the ladies in the parlor and found them standing near thewindow. Stanley had tried to kiss Dorothy, and she had slapped his face.Fortunately he had taken the blow good-humoredly, and was pouring into herunwilling ear a fusillade of boorish compliments when. I entered theparlor.
I said, "The coach is ready."
The ladies moved toward the door. "I am going to ride with you, mybeauty," said his Lordship.
"That you shall not do," retorted Dorothy, with blazing eyes.
"That I will do," he answered. "The roads are free to all, and you cannotkeep me from following you."
Dorothy was aware of her predicament, and I too saw it, but could find noway out of it. I was troubled a moment; but my fear was needless, forDorothy was equal to the occasion.
"We should like your company, Cousin Stanley," replied Dorothy, without atrace of anger in her manner, "but we cannot let you ride with us in theface of the storm that is brewing."
"We won't mind the storm, will we, Tod? We are going with our cousin."
"If you insist upon being so kind to us," said Dorothy, "you may come. ButI have changed my mind about dinner. I am very hungry, and we accept yourinvitation."
"Now you are coming around nicely," said Lord James, joyfully. "We likethat, don't we, Tod?"
Tod had been silent under all circumstances.
Dorothy continued: "Madge and I will drive in the coach to one or two ofthe shops, and we shall return in one hour. Meantime, Cousin Stanley, wewish you to have a fine dinner prepared for us, and we promise to do amplejustice to the fare."
"She'll never come back," said silent Tod, without moving a muscle.
"How about it, cousin?" asked Stanley. "Tod says you'll never come back;he means that you are trying to give us the slip."
"Never fear, Cousin Stanley," she returned, "I am too eager for dinnernot to come back. If you fail to have a well-loaded table for me, I shallnever speak to you again."
We then went to the coach, and as the ladies entered it Dorothy said aloudto Dawson:--
"Drive to Conn's shop."
I heard Tod say to his worthy master:--
"She's a slippin' ye."
"You're a fool, Tod. Don't you see she wants me more than she wants thedinner, and she's hungry, too."
"Don't see," retorted his laconic friend.
Of course when the coach was well away from the inn, Dawson received newinstructions, and took the road to Rowsley. When the ladies had departed,I went to the tap-room with Stanley, and after paying the host for thecoffee, the potatoes, and the dinner which alas! we had not tasted, Iordered a great bowl of sack and proceeded to drink with my allies in thehope that I might make them too drunk to follow us. Within half an hour Idiscovered that I was laboring at a hopeless task. There was great dangerthat I would be the first to succumb; so I, expressing a wish to sleep offthe liquor before the ladies should return, made my escape from thetap-room, mounted my horse, and galloped furiously after Dorothy andMadge. John was riding by the coach when I overtook it.
It was two hours past noon when I came up with John and the girls. Snowhad been falling softly earlier in the afternoon, but as the day advancedthe storm grew in violence. A cold, bleak wind was blowing from the north,and by reason of the weather and because of the ill condition of theroads, the progress of the coach was so slow that darkness overtook usbefore we had finished half of our journey to Rowsley. Upon the fall ofnight the storm increased in violence, and the snow came in piercing,horizontal shafts which stung like the prick of a needle.
At the hour of six--I but guessed the time--John and I, who were ridingat the rear of the coach, heard close on our heels the trampling ofhorses. I rode forward to Dawson, who was in the coach box, and told himto drive with all the speed he could make. I informed him that some onewas following us, and that I feared highwaymen were on our track.
Hardly had I finished speaking to Dawson when I heard the report of ahand-fusil, back of the coach, near the spot where I had left John. Iquickly drew my sword, though it was a task of no small labor, owing tothe numbness of my fingers. I breathed along the blade to warm it, andthen I hastened to John, whom I found in a desperate conflict with threeruffians. No better swordsman than John ever drew blade, and he washolding his ground in the darkness right gallantly. When I rode to hisrescue, another hand-fusil was discharged, and then another, and I knewthat we need have no more fear from bullets, for the three men haddischarged their weapons, and they could not reload while John and I wereengaging them. I heard the bullets tell upon the coach, and I heard thegirls screaming lustily. I feared they had been wounded, but you may besure I had no leisure to learn the truth. Three against two was terribleodds in the dark, where brute force and luck go for more than skill. Wefought desperately for a while, but in the end we succeeded in beating offthe highwaymen. When we had finished with the knaves who had attacked us,we quickly overtook our party. We were calling Dawson to stop when we sawthe coach, careening with the slant of the hill, topple over, and fall tothe bottom of a little precipice five or six feet in height. We at oncedismounted and jumped down the declivity to the coach, which lay on itsside, almost covered by drifted snow. The pole had broken in the fall, andthe horses were standing on the road. We first saw Dawson. He wasswearing like a Dutchman, and when we had dragged him from his snowygrave, we opened the coach door, lifted out the ladies, and seated themupon the uppermost side of the coach. They were only slightly bruised, butwhat they lacked in bruises they made up in fright. In respect to thelatter it were needless for me to attempt a description.
We can laugh about it now and speak lightly concerning the adventure, and,as a matter of truth, the humor of the situation appealed to me even then.But imagine yourself in the predicament, and you will save me the troubleof setting forth its real terrors.
The snow was up to our belts, and we did not at first know how we were toextricate the ladies. John and Dawson, however, climbed to the road, and Icarried Dorothy and Madge to the little precipice where the two men at thetop lifted them from my arms. The coach was broken, and when I climbed tothe road, John, Dawson, and myself held a council of war against thestorm. Dawson said we were three good miles from Rowsley, and that he knewof no house nearer than the village at which we could find shelter. Wecould not stand in the road and freeze, so I got the blankets and robesfrom the coach and made riding pads for Dorothy and Madge. These westrapped upon the broad backs of the coach horses, and then assisted theladies to mount. I walked by the side of Madge, and John performed thesame agreeable duty for Dorothy. Dawson went ahead of us, riding my horseand leading John's; and thus we travelled to Rowsley, half dead and nearlyfrozen, over the longest three miles in the kingdom.
John left us before entering the village, and took the road to Rutland,intending to stop for the night at a cottage two miles distant, upon hisfather's estates. I was to follow Sir John when the ladies were safelylodged at The Peacock.
It was agreed between us that nothing should be said concerning thepresence of any man save Dawson and myself in our party.
When John left us, I rode to The Peacock with Dorothy and Madge, and whileI was bidding them good-by my violent cousin, Sir George, entered the inn.Dorothy ran to her father and briefly related the adventures of the night,dwelling with undeserved emphasis upon the help I had rendered. She toldher father--the statement was literally true--that she had met me at theRoyal Arms, where I was stopping, and that she had, through fear of thestorm and in dread of highwaymen, asked me to ride beside their coach toRowsley.
When I saw Sir George enter the room, I expected to have trouble with him;but after he had spoken with Dorothy, much to m
y surprise, he offered mehis hand and said:--
"I thank you, Malcolm, for the help you have rendered my girls, and I amglad you have come back to us."
"I have not come back to you, Sir George," said I, withholding my hand. "Imet Mistress Vernon and Lady Madge at the Royal Arms, and escorted them toRowsley for reasons which she has just given to you. I was about to departwhen you entered."
"Tut, tut! Malcolm, you will come with us to Haddon Hall."
"To be ordered away again, Sir George?" I asked.
"I did not order you to go. You left in a childish fit of anger. Why inthe devil's name did you run away so quickly? Could you not have given aman time to cool off? You treated me very badly, Malcolm."
"Sir George, you certainly know--"
"I know nothing of the sort. Now I want not another word from you. Damme!I say, not another word. If I ever ordered you to leave Haddon Hall, Ididn't know what I was doing," cried Sir George, heartily.
"But you may again not know," said I.
"Now, Malcolm, don't be a greater fool than I was. If I say I did notorder you to leave Haddon Hall, can't you take me at my word? My age andmy love for you should induce you to let me ease my conscience, if I can.If the same illusion should ever come over you again--that is, if youshould ever again imagine that I am ordering you to leave HaddonHall--well, just tell me to go to the devil. I have been punished enoughalready, man. Come home with us. Here is Dorothy, whom I love better thanI love myself. In anger I might say the same thing to her that I said toyou, but--Nonsense, Malcolm, don't be a fool. Come home with us. Haddon isyour home as freely as it is the home of Dorothy, Madge, and myself."
The old gentleman's voice trembled, and I could not withstand the doubleforce of his kindness and my desire. So it came about that when Madge heldout her fair hand appealingly to me, and when Dorothy said, "Please comehome with us, Cousin Malcolm," I offered my hand to Sir George, and withfeeling said, "Let us make this promise to each other: that nothinghereafter shall come between us."
"I gladly promise," responded the generous, impulsive old man. "Dorothy,Madge, and you are all in this world whom I love. Nothing shall maketrouble between us. Whatever happens, we will each forgive."
The old gentleman was in his kindest, softest mood.
"Let us remember the words," said I.
"I give my hand and my word upon it," cried Sir George.
How easy it is to stake the future upon a present impulse. But when thetime for reckoning comes,--when the future becomes the present,--it issometimes hard to pay the priceless present for the squandered past. Nextmorning we all rode home to Haddon,--how sweet the words sound even atthis distance of time!--and there was rejoicing in the Hall as if theprodigal had returned.
In the evening I came upon Madge unawares. She was softly singing aplaintive little love song. I did not disturb her, and as I stole awayagain I said to myself, "God is good." A realization of that great truthhad of late been growing upon me. When once we thoroughly learn it, lifetakes on a different color.