Chapter III

_Our Hero sets out upon a Visit to his Tutor at his Parsonage House. Occurrences by the Way._

In a fine autumnal morning, whilst the sun was mounting in the clear horizon, the Reverend Mr. Wilson and his pupil took their departure from the castle. They had not less than twenty Welch computed miles to traverse over a romantic country before they reached the parsonage house at Shells, now prepared for their reception. What were the prospects, that opened upon them by the way, how wild, how various, how sublime, we shall not study to describe, though all the requisites of mountain, wood and water are at our command, and court us to employ them. If these beautiful objects lost their effect upon our hero John, it was in great part owing to another beautiful object, not then present, which greatly occupied his thoughts, as the immediate scene of his meditation just then laid at Denbigh, where the young Amelia, unseen but not forgotten, still kept possession of his heart. The point, towards which he was shaping his course, would bring him nearer to Denbigh by more than half the distance between that place and Kray Castle, and though his mind was not perfectly at peace with respect to Mrs. Jennings, he felt every tender sentiment for her unoffending charge, and cherished a fond hope that some happy opportunity might occur to repay him for the disappointment he had met with and the long absence he had endured.

Whilst our young hero, wholly occupied in these meditations, was incautiously riding along a slippery path in his descent from the heights, his horse’s footing failed him and he fell upon his knees: being an active horseman he lost neither his seat nor his temper, but it brought other ideas to his recollection, and turning to his companion he calmly observed, that had his favourite Glendowr been under him, nothing of that sort could have happened--and what a treasure, added he, have I been defrauded of? what kind of heart must that man have who could turn a fine animal, that had been cloathed and pampered in the stable, naked on a barren heath, only because an uncle, who had left him every think else, had bequeathed this one token of his remembrance to me as his godson?

At this instant lawyer Davis rode up to them on a brisk gallop, and saluting them as he reined in his horse, cried out--Well met, gentlemen; I thought I kenn’d you as I crossed the hill, and hastened to give you the intelligence, that I am carrying to the castle, of my having got such information, as will secure ample damages for the loss of Sir Owen’s legacy of the horse, and expose to the world one of the basest and most rascally transactions, that was ever brought to light.

As Davis uttered these words young John De Lancaster turned a look upon Mr. Wilson that could not fail to be understood, and desired Davis to relate the particulars--They are soon told, he replied, for the informer Joe Johnson, who was feeder to Sir Owen’s hounds, has deposed, that by the express order of his present master the young baronet betook the horse called Owen Glendowr out of the stable in the evening of the 12th instant, and accompanied by the said Sir David led him to a bye spot on the mountain, where in a dell they contrived by ropes to cast, and then and there to hamstring him by deep incisions on the sinews of his legs, leaving the poor mangled animal to expire in tortures. Johnson describes his reluctance to obey commands of so barbarous a nature, but his master was peremptory, and had caused him to be plied with liquor till he was so intoxicated, that unless Sir David himself had assisted in the act, he could not have executed it.

Davis having related these particulars, addressing himself to Mr. Edward Wilson, added--’Tis a villainous business, reverend sir, a very villainous business, and if old Mr. De Lancaster shall think fit to bring it into court, I would not be in Sir David’s case for his estate. Mr. De Lancaster will do no such thing, said Wilson, that you may rely upon--No, no, cried John, ’tis not a case to be settled in that way: I’m satisfied my grandfather will not resort to the law, nor accept of any compensation for the injury I have suffered from Sir David Owen and his dog-kennel accomplice. The man, who degrades his character by an action of that sort, puts his person out of the reach of a gentleman’s resentment.

This said, the conference broke off: the companions proceeded on their way, and Davis shaped his course towards the mansion of De Lancaster.

When there arrived and admitted to an audience in the library, he stated facts rather more circumstantially from the chair than he had done from the saddle, and having concluded, the old gentleman remained silent for some time, pondering in his mind the measures he should take: at length, breaking forth in a tone, that bespoke his resolution formed, he said--Davis, we must save this wretched young man, if it be possible. He, who has dabbled in the blood of an animal, may be wrought by desperation to attempt the life of a fellow creature: he is young, and may be turned to better thoughts; I am old, and must not be extreme in justice: Furthermore, I must confess to you, Davis, that I am not quite reconciled to the means we have taken for eliciting this information from a scoundrel dog-feeder by the lure of a reward. Your law, I know, allows it; but your law and my conscience do not always harmonize. This very fellow, whom we have paid for confessing the act, was probably paid also for committing it: that is a traffic in iniquity, which I am sorry to have countenanced. However I will write to Mrs. David Owen, who in her twofold capacity of mother and guardian, seems the properest person to recall this young offender to a due contrition for his offence.

I should doubt that, Davis replied; I am much afraid, worthy sir, you would not mend your chance by that appeal; for I have another unlucky evidence in my possession of a damned Jew’s trick in the article of the diamond ring--

Speak to the point, friend Davis, said the old gentleman, but spare your expletives; for oaths are not ornaments to an honest man’s discourse--

I ask pardon, rejoined Davis; but really, sir, when one hears of such scandalous practices, as are carried on in that family between mother and son, it is enough to make a parson swear--

I should hope not, said De Lancaster; but what do you allude to?--

Why you must know, replied the lawyer, I had my suspicions that all was not right in the going of the diamond ring, bequeathed to Madam Cecilia, and reported _non est inventus_; so it came into my mind, that it might not be amiss to put the old proverb into practice, and set a thief to catch a thief--

Speak, if you please, without a proverb, said the good old man; I shall comprehend you better; for in my opinion, Mr. Davis, when our conversation is to turn upon thieves, the sooner it is concluded, so that we may dismiss them from our thoughts, the better it will be for us both.