Chapter VII: Part 7

"Well, may I perish, but he runs a hazard this night, does this said Sir Damon," I said with a laugh, and I took him by the arm. "Look you," says I, "you were but a bantam, with a bantam's voice yonder. You shrilled too high, damme, for your spurs. If you would venture another main, take heed to one that knows, and keep your eyes straight--as straight as your weapon. With level hands and eyes, rot me! I would be afraid of nothing under heaven save stalking ghosts and ill-willing witches. Set on, man, if so you have a mind, and I'll wager you will go through with the adventure."

"Gad!" says he, with his laugh, "I will pluck him bare for his pains, and enjoy it. I am your debtor, sir, for this night's topsy-turvy."

Just then the chaise rocked into the faint light before us that stood in the darkness of the trees, and he made a step forward, halted as if in doubt, and then dashed at it, shouting in a loud voice to the postilion. But I lay close in my earth, like an old fox, watching of 'em.

Well, the chaise was at a stand-still, and there was a hubbub, as you may fancy; for the old gentleman was come out to see a highwayman took, and not to be rumpadded himself. But he was of a stout spirit, and though there was my young gentleman at the window with his barker, and his mask that he had refitted on him, I could descry a white head poked forth and a voice exchanging words sharply.

"Deliver!" says my man.

"Deliver! I will see thee damned first," says the spirited old bubblyjock.

"I regret the necessity," says my man, presently, but his barker drew nearer.

"I will have this place scoured for you," said the old boy.

"If you make more ado," says my man, amiably, "I shall be in the sad case of dabbling white hairs red." With that, seeming to recognise the folly of resistance, Sir Damon sank back in his seat.

"What is't you want?" he asked in another voice.

"'Tis very simple," says t'other; "merely all that is in your chaise with you, save what clothes you sit in." And now that the man's head no longer blocked the window he pressed closer in, and at the same instant uttered an exclamation of surprise. And so I daresay did Sir Damon also, for he must have recognised by that saying with whom he had to deal; the which must have astonished him who came forth to see the young buck laid by the heels. But he gave vent to no sound just then, and 'twas my young gentleman of the toby who spoke.

"I will be content with nothing short of all that is with you, sir," said he, in a gay voice, as of one well content with himself and destiny. "And first, your purse."

Well, he must have got that, for says he next, "Now, your jewel-case;" and that too came out of the window in the ghost of a hand that was like a woman's for slenderness. "Ye're prompt in payment, my dear sir," continues my friend, "for the which I thank ye as an exacting creditor. But you have still something by you."

Then comes in Sir Damon's voice, quite still and cool now. "You have all, sir--you have all. My word spells my honour, unless, indeed, you have changed your courteous intention about my clothes."

"Nay, I leave none bare," says he, "in particular to those wild winds. But I see you have company, and fair company too;" at the which, as you may guess, I pricked up my ears and moved forward a step out of the darkness.

"Well, sir," says Sir Damon from the coach, sharply, "would you rob the lady also?"

"No," says he, with a laugh, "only of your company. I trust I am a gallant tobyman, if even upon compulsion. In truth I have no real liking for the business, but was driven to it of necessity. Yet while I am in it I must e'en make what I can out of it. And since I must take all that is in the chaise, save yourself, my good sir, I will make bold with the lady if she will forgive me."

Hearing that, I could have slapped my thigh in my delight at his wit and quickness, for I began at once to see how matters stood. Here was Sir Damon driving forth with his ward and niece, maybe with the intent that she should publicly witness with her own eyes the wretched plight and humiliation of her lover; and now that lover appears to discomfit her guardian and wrest her triumphantly from his arms. It was an excellent fine ploy and tickled me much; for, damme, 'twas after my own heart.

But when he had spoken Sir Damon answers nothing for a time, and then seeing, I suppose, that he was beaten all round he says,--

"Very well," says he, "I am, as I have assured you, my good scoundrel, a man of my word and honour. So what I have said I have said. You have now your wages, and shall have your reward, though I confess I had not anticipated it. But to-morrow 'tis my turn, for I too have an unexpected card in the game. And so, when the lady is safely alighted in this balmy air and on this cosy heath, at your disposal, I shall be obliged if you will order my man to drive on, so that I may finish this somewhat benighted journey in peace."

This was, you will admit, a dignified surrender, and I could not but see that he was really at the advantage. For though the lad had won his wages and his bride, he was at the mercy of this man, as hard as Satan, maybe, or as grim as Death. And he would go hang on the beam for this night's work, if so be Sir Damon desired it, and this, you may conceive, was not a pleasant plight for the young fellow. But, bless you, he had no fears. He had won his bet, and he had handed forth his sweetheart, and was, I doubt not, all in a flurry of passion for the meeting. Bah! this love turns men dizzy; it steals their wits more wildly than wine. Let be! 'Tis well enough in a way, but, rip me, if I would be so rankly stirred. The old cock had the advantage and knew it. He gazed out at the silly pair from his window with hard eyes and expressionless face, and shouted a command to his man, at which the chaise turned and began to move slowly towards London again.

At that instant, seeing how awkward a face things wore, and being of a mind to see the stir through to the end, a notion flashed in my head and I came forward to the couple. Miss I could not see, for she was in wraps, and she might have been a scullion-wench for all I could tell. But says I to him,--

"See you, take my coach and drive on to the Nag by Carshalton and there await me. I will deal with this Lord Chief Justice myself;" and leaving 'em with no more words I ran after the departing chaise as fast as maybe.

When I had reached it I rapped on the window, and out pops the old gentleman's white head once more.

"Another of you?" says he; "this place grows 'em like brambles," and would have discharged a pistol full in my face.

"Hold!" said I, "'tis your assistance I want, sir. I believe you have been rumpadded by a tobyman just now. Well, I am in a like case, and was bound whilst he took you. But now he is gone off with my chaise, and I beg you will join us in pursuit. Sure, sir," seeing nothing on his face but its pale mask, "we be enough, armed as we are, to overtake and bring him to account, especially that he hath with him now, as it seems, some go-lightly. But I cannot without my coach o'ertake them."

He seemed to consider a little, scrutinising me. "Well," said he, at last, "you seem a likely man in emergencies. If you are armed, as you say, and have the resolution, I do not know but the plan will fit in with my own. I had another design, but maybe both are admirable, and at least they will not conflict."

So without more ado he invited me into the chaise, and then conceive me sitting in miss's place, the horse's heads turned again for the south, and Sir Damon and Dick Ryder chatting agreeably and affably together as they had been sworn friends or long acquaintances.

At least 'twas I that chatted, and he was mostly silent in an amicable enough way, interjecting a question, or commenting with satiric humour, what time we lurched along towards Ewell and Epsom. But now you will have an inkling of my design when I say that if this old fox was permitted to return straightway to town he would no doubt set the officers on his enemy and have him forthwith lodged in the jug. Maybe, thought I to myself, with a little trickery and a little persuasion of my own kind, that could be prevented and the boy have a run for his life at the least. So that was why we were jogging along the Epsom Road through a dark and miry night on the track (as he thought) of the runaways.

Presently, interrupting a tale of mine about Jeremy Starbottle, says he, bluffly,--

"We seem no nearer, sir. It would look as if your horses were superior to mine."

"Why," said I, in answer, "'tis odds they'll keep this road, for the sideways are foul and lead nowhither. Moreover, they will not expect to be pursued. We shall fetch 'em presently."

"Very well," says he, lying back, "but I beg you will give me a little leave. I was shortened of my nap this afternoon."

Now this was a plain hint, as you see, for me to hold my tongue, but I took no offence, for there was no occasion. "Sir," said I, "I am mum. I do not overstay my welcome," and I too lay back.

For some time we proceeded in silence; but presently, the chaise jogging more than usual, he sat up.

"It seems to me," said he, "that we are upon a wild-goose chase, we shall not catch him in this wilderness."

"Oh," said I, "he cannot be so far in advance--not he with my nags, I'll warrant."

He looked at me doubtfully in the small light. "Very well," he said at last, shortly, "we will try a little longer;" and he peered out upon the night if so be he might determine where we were.

I looked out also, and now we were passing through Carshalton, where I had bid the doves assemble for to meet me. But, damme, my business was not yet done, and the coach rolls creaking out of Carshalton and on the way to Epsom. This seemed to stir the old gentleman again to perplexity, for again he directed a look out of the window, and then another at me. I felt his gaze wander over me from top to boot as if he measured me.

"You have fought abroad," says he at last.

"Not I," says I; and added to that, "There's too many that babble about these foreign wars. Deliver us, a good English war is more to my taste, and better fighting too," says I.

"Ah!" says he, still coolly inspecting me, as if he cared not whether I saw him or not, "then you will have fought in his Majesty's intestine wars?" said he.

"What's that?" said I, turning on him.

"No doubt," said he, suavely, "you have fought, sir, for his Majesty King James against the unfortunate Duke of Monmouth."

"Who gave you leave to suppose I have fought at all?" said I, sharply, being irked by his persistence. "I am no fighting man, but one of peace."

"Oh," says he, "but I took you for a soldier and a captain-at-arms at least. And indeed I believe you would have furnished material for a good soldier." He surveyed me meditatively. "Yes, I'll promise that; good material, sir, sound fighting stock, and no splitting straws or scruples."

"Damme," said I, bluntly, "what d'ye mean?"

He sank back in his seat. "I mean no offence," said he, "but I think as 'tis shrewd to-night I will e'en turn about for home."

"Nay," said I, masterfully, "you must not do that since we are come so far. Let us finish the adventure, sir, and not leave hold of it. 'Twould never do. We will be catching of 'em by the heels presently."

He pursed his lips together, as if he whistled under his breath, and there was a pause, while the noise of the chaise drowned all sound about us. But my senses are not sharp for nothing, and next I was aware of a glint of light upon steel, for the moon as we rocked swayed in at the window, and I guessed that he was bringing his pistol from under his cloak.

I pulled forth mine abruptly. "Yes," says I, "'tis as well to be prepared, sir. I am glad you are so forward. We may have a fall-to when we encounter, but I'll warrant ye're as good with your barker as I with mine."

"I hope so," said he, without betraying any feeling. "I do earnestly hope so; even, sir, to be a little better would be to my taste. As you say, we may come to an encounter soon, and 'tis as well to be prepared."

Now the old buck puzzled me, and I perpended. If he had any suspicion that this was not a genuine pursuit, and I was other than I had feigned to be, why sat he there silent and cool? But if he had no scent of danger what was the significance of his words, which did smell to me of the ironic? It angered me to be so baffled by him and his quiet features; but I did not well see what I might do or say just then, and so kept silence like himself. And indeed 'twas he broke it.

"We must be drawing nigh Ewell, so far as I may guess," he said. "Would you be good enough to tell me what course you propose when we reach Ewell? If I might without impropriety make a humble suggestion, I would advise that we ate some supper and lay there comfortably for the night, to resume this interesting journey doubtless on the morrow, or perhaps the next day."

With that I saw at once how it was, and I gave vent to a little laugh. "Why, you shall do as you please, sir," said I, "and that plan will serve me admirably."

"Ah!" says he, looking at me, "then maybe there is something amiss with it. Suppose we come to an understanding. I think you are too young, and I am too old, to want to die by violence. We both have a taste for life, I take it. Where stand we then? We are pursuing a gentleman of the road--"

"Pardon me," said I, interrupting, for the time was come now to disclose myself, and I looked to be mightily tickled by the disclosure, "no longer pursuing, but maybe even pursued."

"Pursued!" he asked doubtfully.

"Well, at least we are some miles ahead of the turtle-doves that are cooing, maybe, somewhere safe and sound behind us."

His eyes never changed; only the thin lips moved a little. "Ah!" says he, "the turtle-doves! I had some notion--but who then are you, my dear sir?"

"I am but a philosophic observer," said I, airily. "'Tis my business to look on and smile. I take no part in the rough acts of fortune."

"Pardon me," said he, suavely, "but I think you are too modest, Captain."

"Captain!" said I, sharply.

"Well, well, I had forgot you were no soldier. You have the air of a soldier, and the makings, as I have remarked. But, sir, let me tell you, you are too modest. This journey, for example--"

"Oh, that was my whim," said I. "I interposed out of a benevolent heart, for to serve two young folks fond of billing and to make an illustrious acquaintance for myself."

He bowed in his corner. "I trust you will not make a more illustrious acquaintance still," he said dryly.

"Why," said I, for I knew what he meant, "you forget that at your invitation I am here in pursuit of our common enemy."

"True," he said, considering. "It has a smooth face upon it. I perceive you, sir, to be a gentleman of your wits."

Now 'twas my turn to bow, and indeed he was not wrong, for it has ever been my good fortune to find a way out of a difficulty when others would stand agape, like oafs and asses. But he went on, in his still voice: "But now that I see our friend, the common enemy, as you put it, enjoyed a confederate, it appears I must reconsider the circumstances. In fine, his wager fails--"

"I am no confederate," I broke in.

"And thus there is no necessity that he receive the penalty which I had designed as a wedding-present for him," he finished, not appearing to heed me.

"Sir Damon, I have told you that I am but an onlooker," said I.

He elevated his eyebrows and shrugged his shoulders.

"Rip me," said I, angrily, "I never clapped eyes on the fellow till the quarter-of-an-hour ere you came up, and I will be damned if I should tick him off from Adam did I see him again."

"You perceive that you are rehabilitating the penalty," he remarked dryly, and I could see he did not credit me, which made me angrier.

"By the Lord," said I, "I have the honour to tell ye that the young muckworm rumpadded me in my chaise just as you were come up--damme, he did, if it were not that I turned his barkers on him."

Sir Damon eyed me and then all of a sudden broke out into soft laughter, as if he were greatly tickled.

"Is't so?" said he. "The Lord love him for a simpleton! Faith, I could forgive--" He chuckled quietly, and then looked at me again, still smiling.

"You know, sir, what penalty menaces them that abduct or hold a ward from her guardian?"

"'Tis a guardian I have abducted from his ward," said I.

He laughed quietly. "Very well," said he, "let us leave it at that." And then, "You know, sir, what a fool the fool is?"

"He is no tobyman," said I.

"'Tis commensurate with his life in general," said Sir Damon, easily. "He is born Tom-fool and has two handsome, dancing eyes." He paused. "I will not maintain," says he next, "that for happiness wisdom is necessary, or even adequate. I have not found it so myself, nor perhaps you, friend--Captain?"

"In that case," says I, "repay a fool with his folly, which is marriage."

"Then we are agreed," said he, genially. "I too am a bachelor. And now that we are agreed on one thing, Captain, Mr--" He hesitated.

"Ryder," said I.

"Mr Ryder," said he, "let us be agreed all along the line. If I forego the penalty--"

"I will treat your worship to as damnable a fine supper and bottle as was ever served in England," I interrupted, "and we will drink to the turtles at Carshalton."

"Carshalton," he says reflectively. "I had an idea 'twas Carshalton, but your pistol was persuasive."

"Well, sir," said I, "here is Ewell, and in a tavern that I know we shall be hospitably received and used this foul night."

"Good," says he, preparing to alight as the chaise came to a stop, "and pray bear in mind, Mr Ryder, that I am penniless and homeless."

"Damme," said I, heartily, "ye're welcome to all that's mine, and that's not beggary; and, damme, while I can keep such company I envy not the turtle with his mate at Carshalton."

He was now in the road, and he turned. "Nor I, Ryder, nor I," he said pleasantly.

MY LADY'S RING

As I wheeled the mare out of the gateway into the gloom of the night the lighted windows of the inn winked on me with yellow eyes. A cold sleet was falling, very piercing to the flesh, and I rolled my collar higher about my neck. It came upon me then that I was a fool to leave that warm and comfortable tavern on such a savage night; but 'twas Christmas Eve, and seven of the clock, and I was for Bristol on the following day, where was a doxy that I knew, as pretty a parcel as ever I did see, saving Polly Scarlet, and she was in London.

The landlord had joined me in a bottle well-laced with brandy, and being of a lively and generous disposition had furnished another himself. 'Twas a lonely inn that stood on the border of the moor, and says he that he was mightily gratified to be in company.

So 'twas with a full belly and a merry heart that I turned into the welter of the night. 'Twas rarely cold, and I whistled as I went, though the breath of my nostrils went up like reek. Now I was in the mind, being amply loaded and light-spirited, to be amiable with the devil himself, if so be he should come that way, though 'twas, for sure, not the night for him. Certainly I was not thinking of rumpadding any mortal man, but would have taken him to my bosom for a fellow-traveller. For 'tis a vulgar error to suppose that gentlemen of the road are for ever with an eye to goldfinches. Money is muck for us as often as not, at least to such of us as maintain a proper dignity. But as for Dan Creech and his lousy pack, or that much-boasted Jeremy Starbottle, why, they are no better than common cutpurses or tally-thieves. No; to ride the high toby has its obligations as well as its privileges, and on that Christmas Eve, damme, the whole world and his wife might have gone secure for me.

Well in this humour, despite of the night, I rode on, sometimes at a jog, but mostly at a walk, for the snow was heavier as I reached the moor. Upon the stretch of broken land it lay uneven, for I suppose 'twas caught by the rough winds on that upland heath and blown into the hollows, and upon the furze and thorn. But the continuous spread of whiteness had absorbed the road, and Calypso had to feel her way mighty patiently. 'Twas thus we arrived at the cross-roads near the middle of the moor, where the ways divide 'twixt Bollingham and Messiter; and reining in on the impulse, to make sure of my path, I perceived even through the blackness another figure on horseback under the sign-post.

"Is't anyone?" says a voice, pretty clear.

"Ay," says I, "'tis a traveller."

"Is there a village near by?" says he out of the dark.

"Within three miles two upon either road," said I.

"I am bound for Bath," says he, "and have met with a mishap this cursed night," and began to deliver oaths as they had been sword-thrusts in a duello. Now I can tolerate a man that has been put to sore discomfort and is enraged, and as for a few mouth-filling oaths, why, they are neither here nor there. But there was something in the way of his voice, manner and address that grated on me, and so I answered him pretty coolly.

"Well, you can take your choice of roads with an easy heart," I said.

"Look ye here," says he, after a moment. "From what I catch of you through your voice, my man, you should be a sturdy fellow. What think you of carrying a message for help to the village for a guinea-piece. 'Twill serve you with good wine, mulled ale, or a doxy, I'll warrant."

That maddened me for all my good humour, to be taken for granted as a common fetch-and-carry, and to be so addressed like a footboy by his grace. I heard insolence and overbearing in his accent, and I would have sworn patronage and contempt was in his face.

"Be damned!" says I, angrily, "I am no lackey. Find your own village," says I.

At that he uttered an oath. "You are impudent!" said he, and moved his horse nearer, as though he would take action. But, Lord, I was awaiting him, and this muckworm would have eaten snow in two minutes had he so ventured. But prudence came to him, so he hesitated. "Ye're the sort of man that is the better of the whip and the pillory," says he. "Rogue, were it not for the darkness I would beat you for your insolence."

"Damme, what's amiss with the darkness?" said I. "For sure I can well make out your ugly body against the snow. 'Tis a monstrous, unsightly blackness against so much innocent whiteness." He cursed me, and then dug his rowels into his nag so deeply that the poor beast started and reared. But that was enough for me, for I hate to see a creature that is so kindly in its services so mishandled; and so says I, driving at him,--

"Rip me, you muckworm, I'll give you that which will recall this moor to you. Deliver, damn ye!" says I, "or I'll make you food for maggots;" and I had the barker at his head ere he knew what had happened.

Well, he made much ado, but 'twas of no avail, for I had the mastery from the outset, and he was perforce obliged to plumb his pockets, the which yielded but a score of guineas and a ring or so. But that was of no consequence to me, for I had no care for his money, merely for his discomfiture, along of his arrogance.

As I left him, foully imprecating, I threw a laughing word at him. "Messiter," says I, "lies on the left, and Bollingham to the right. Turn round three times, my cock, and choose which you will," whereat I rode laughing into the darkness, yet ere I did so I saw him savagely wheel into the Messiter Road, cutting viciously at his horse.

As for me, I rode on, singing cheerfully enough, for the encounter had warmed my blood, and I no longer felt the cold so greatly. But I had not got farther than a mile from the cross-roads when I was aware in the pause of my singing of a sound near by, of a voice that called on the unquiet air, very faint and melancholy. I reined in, and listened, and presently the cry came to me again from the right; and so, jumping off the mare, I left her in the road, standing obedient as she was used to do, and walked gingerly in that direction. I did not trust myself in that profound darkness and the treacherous snow, and, sure enough, I was right to be careful, for in a little I was plunged up to my waist in a hollow.

"Where are you?" I called aloud, and the voice, so clearly now a woman's, came back.

I made my way to it with difficulty, and soon solved the riddle; here was a chaise wandered out of the road and buried in a deep drift, and by the body of the carriage a poor lady in the direst state of distress and terror.

"Why, madam," said I, "are ye alone?"

At which she broke out that her husband was gone for help, as was the postilion, but in different directions, and that they had took the horses, and that she, poor delicate creature, was thus solitary on a naked and solitary moor, with never even a wild-fowl to scream with her for company.

"Oh," says I, "we will soon mend that, madam, or call me catchpole," and I took hold of her. "Ye're in a drift, mistress," I said. "I'll give ye company, if ye will have it, until your husband shall return"--and then all of a sudden it flashed upon me that her husband was he who had abused me so grossly, and whom I had rumpadded.

"Phew!" says I to myself, "why, here's a pretty comedy." But the lady was all that occupied my thoughts just then, and so I conducted her to the road, and encouraged her into talk as I did so, for she was in a terrible fluster, what with the loneliness and the cold and the darkness.

"Now," says I, "what you need, madam, is a posset of hot brandy and a warm and virtuous couch," I says, "and with the help of my good nag here 'tis what you'll have."

"Oh, sir, you are very good," says she, tremulously. "You are good beyond Christian seeming."

That tickled me pleasantly, as you may think, and I was the more disposed to take charge of this poor creature thus left to starve of the perishing winds of heaven. It rains not clemency from December skies in this brisk isle of England. So says I, in a cheering voice,--

"I'll warrant you shall toast your toes and warm your stomach with victuals within the better part of an hour. Faith, pin your hopes on me, mistress, and you shall not be disappointed. Tis not the first time Dick Ryder has comforted and succoured the fair. There's Dick's luck, madam."

She smiled in a weak way, but began to take some confidence, as I could see from the new note in her voice.

"Is it far, sir, to shelter?" she asked, and I told her there was an inn some two miles distant, at which she plucked up her heart once more, not knowing (bless her folly) that two miles on that wild moor, and with that drift of snow, was no matter for spoon-fed babes. But as chance had it, she made the discovery pretty quickly, and that through no fault or neglect of mine. For I put her upon Calypso--as gentle a mare, when needs be, as ever was straddled; and, sure enough, she was straddled now. For my lady could keep no seat otherwise, and so says I to her, if she would play the man for the nonce we should maybe be the sooner out of our troubles. 'Twas then for the first time that I saw there was good blood and spirit to her; for instead of crying out in protest that she could not, or she would not, or that she dared not, says she,--

"Oh, think you so?" and over she cocks her foot with the best grace in the world, and a charming genuflexion to boot. "I fear I trouble you greatly," says she.

But, Lord, with such an one (duchess or doxy, dame or dirty-face) I would have gone to the farthest verge of trouble and made no odds of it. 'Tis spirit that ever has appealed to me.

Well, we were no sooner astir, Calypso pegging slowly along with me at her mouthpiece, than there comes over us a flurry of snow, driving full and hard in our faces, the which blinded me for the time. But when I recovered the mare was gone from the road and had took a step into a hollow. She staggered, and plump goes the lady over her head into the drift. I hauled her forth, breathless as she was, and all she cried out when the wind was in her again was,--

"I fear I did not hold to her properly. I fear I am a bungler."

"Bless your heart, no," says I. "It would have took a king's regiment to have sat that fall. You do mighty well," said I, "and I'd wring his nose that said no to that;" with which I assisted her once more into the saddle.

What with the drift and the darkness, and the squalls of snow, it was an hour and more before we reached the inn which lay on the road to Bollingham. Arrived here I rapped out the landlord, who was surprised to see me returned--"not but what you are wise," says he. But when he saw the lady and heard my tale he was, being a decent kindly fellow, all of a bustle. Madam was all a-wet from her sojourn in the snow, to say nothing of her tumble, and so she was set afore a great fire in the ingle to dry herself, which she did with sincere appreciation, the while the host prepared supper. She sat there, her hands extended, drawing in deep breaths of comfort from the grateful blaze, and I watched her. Twas the first I had seen of her face, which was of a delicate beauty, pink from the whipping wind, and crowned with disordered hair. I judged she was of a quality deemed proper in courts, and she was young withal. Presently says she, looking round at me with bright soft eyes,--

"Do you think," said she, "that my husband has reached safety?"

"Why, yes," said I, "for though he be not here, he may have taken the other road and be at Messiter," the which I knew it was likely he had done.

"Oh!" said she, as if thinking, and said no more.

But nearby after that supper was served, and madam was set to take in company with your faithful servant, by your leave! Not but what I have not often supped with the quality, ay, and made merry with them too, man and woman, and of all ages; for we are served in our calling with strange accidents. Yet I will confess that to be seated there at table with her tickled me handsomely, and I fell to with a will. But the lady showed little appetite, and had an anxious look, and thought I that she was troubled for her husband; but I soon made out that she was not so concerned, for said I, to stimulate her,--

"Maybe he is supping like us in a cosy room at Messiter."

"Oh!" said she, and I saw her mind had come back from another quarter. "He is like to sup and be comfortable wherever he is. He will emerge scatheless;" and there was that in her tone which was all but a sneer.

"Oh, well, damn the husband," says I to myself, "I take no interest in him;" and I gave my attention to the lady. The glow had now receded from her face, leaving it pale, according to what I took to be its true habit, and she answered in a pleasant and engaging way, with an emphasis of her gratitude for my assistance. But this I pooh-poohed in curt terms, for I was more than repaid for my trouble by the figure she cut over against the board, and the honour she did me. And I was in the midst of rebuffing her thanks for the third time when the door opened from the flagged passage and a man entered.

He was followed by the innkeeper, suave and bowing, and the first thing was that madam says, in an even, pleasant voice,--

"So you are behind us after all, Charles." At that I studied him the closer, for it must be her husband, and perhaps he that had put an affront on me, and I knew for certain who he was when he spoke.

"It seems so," said he, scowling at me; and then "Why did you not wait? I found you gone from the chaise."

"It was so cold. I was chilled to death," she answered, "and this gentleman happened upon me, and was so good as to offer me his services for a rescue."

He turned a glowering, arrogant eye on me, but said nothing at the moment, save a demand to the innkeeper to fetch mulled wine. Now, 'twas clear he was in ignorance of my identity, and so I was emboldened to make trial of him, maybe, you will say, with some rashness; but I have ever found the boldest course is the wisest.

"Perhaps, sir," said I, "you will honour me with a share of this bottle in the meanwhile."

He hesitated, and then lowered his eyes. "I thank you, no, sir," he returned briefly, and sat down to the fire to wait.

His ungraciousness nettled me, all the more that he thus deranged the comfort of his own lady, who was manifestly put about by his incivility. Seeing that he knew not I had rumpadded him he might have thrown thanks at me for her care, even if 'twere only as you may throw coins at a beggar. But not he. He sat and frowned, and then looked up at her.

"The next time I pray you will have faith and patience to remain where you are set, my lady," says he, curtly.

"Why, husband--" she began, but I broke in, for I was infuriate with his grossness of manner.

"Look you, sir," said I, "would you have a tender lady bare to the snow and sour winds to await your convenience? Sink me, I should be glad to think she was warming of her ankles, what fate soever came to mine."

"Your opinion," said he, pompously, and looking at me inquisitively, "is naturally of weight, sir."

He was a full-faced, big-nosed man, with small eyes, and a hard mouth, but was manifestly of some dignity from his dress and style.

"Sir Charles," says she, with a little pride in her voice, "you forget my plight. I should have perished but for this good gentleman."

"Humph," says this pig, puffing out his nostrils, and leaned over the fire to warm himself, but cast narrow glances at me.

But here comes in mine host with the wine, and Sir Charles (if that was his name) sits to the table, and takes a draught, which served to loosen his tongue.

"These roads," says he, "do no credit to your country, my man."

"Sir, they are such as we must endure," says the innkeeper.

"They are a disgrace to any country," says he; "they are the haunt of thieves and cut-throats," he says, and thumped on the table.

"Why, I've heard of none, your honour," says the fellow.

"I tell you, sir," he went on, "that no more than a mile or so from here I was stopped by a ruffian and robbed--yes, robbed, sir; and you boast of your secure roads. I am a justice and will see to it when I reach London."

"Lord, sir, you say not so?" said the innkeeper, and the lady called out in surprise,

"Robbed, Charles; why, what is this?"

"Stopped and robbed," says the man, with emphasis on his words and looking from one to another of us. "Stopped and robbed by a dastard with pistols and swords, when I had been looking for a friendly voice in the night and the snow--rings, guineas and all," he says, addressing his wife.

"I have my purse," says she, fumbling in her bodice with nervous fingers.

"I will bring down the law on this wretched place," he declared formidably, ignoring her. "I will see that his Majesty's processes do clean these parts of the gentry, and of all who harbour them," he added, with suspicious beady eyes on the innkeeper.

"Nay, sir, there is no house on this road but what is honest," says he, hastily.

"Why," says Sir Charles, as importantly as if he were examining a prisoner, "this fellow must have come from here, and no doubt was in waiting for me. You cannot deny it."

"There was none such here, sir, all the day," says the landlord, humbly; "there was none but honest folk."

"Ah, but how mark you the difference?" he asked triumphantly. "I ask you, how do you discriminate? Does a man wear his virtue on his nose?" And at that, looking at his blobbed nose, I chuckled to myself, for I minded in no way that he was thus cross-questioning the taverner. Lord, I would not have cared two sucking straws for such as he. So I broke in,--

"There is some that has an honest look," said I, "and there's some that wants it."

"That is so," said the lady. "'Twere easy to tell the difference."

"You are very confident," said he, sourly, "and maybe then you could read the faces in this room, madam?"

She glanced about her with a flush at his rudeness. "I think there is no question of this room," she answered.

He said nothing, but shot a glance at me, and then took a draught of wine.

"And how was it this kind gentleman happened upon you, Betty?" he asked.

"Sir, 'twas a delicate voice, as of a lamb bleating in the cold darkness, that I heard, and went for to rescue," I answered him coolly.

"Oh!" he says, and looked at the table as if thinking. "And whence came you?" he asked bluntly.

Now it entered into my mind then for the first time that he had conceived a suspicion of me. It was true that his bearing might be part of his customary gross conduct, but 'twas possible that his questions were pursuing some point. And so, as the landlord was gone from the room, I said indifferently, "I am from Bristol and go south for Taunton."

"Ho!" he said, "then you came along the road after me?"

"Very like," I said with the same indifference. "I know not which way you came, as the chaise was buried deep in the drift."

"That brings to my memory," said he, rising, "a neglected duty. The postilion must take aid to rescue the carriage;" and he marched to the door with his heavy gait and determined mien.

When he was gone I looked across at the lady, but she avoided my eye, embarrassed (I made no doubt) by her husband's arrogant behaviour. And now I recalled that 'twas high time for me to be on my way after this interlude, and I put my hand into my pocket to bring forth a coin wherewith to discharge my reckoning. And I pulled out a handful of guineas. As I was picking out one I heard an exclamation, and raising my eyes, perceived that the lady was staring in astonishment at my hand.

"Where got you that?" she asked in an excitement, pointing with her hand. "Where got you that ring?"

And then to my chagrin I saw that I had pulled out some of the jewellery I had took from Sir Charles. "That?" says I, thinking to gain time. "Why that?"

"The ring I gave my husband," she almost whispered across the table, and her eyes met mine. In them suddenly arose a light of understanding, and of something else commingled. Damme, I am not ashamed to ply the high toby, but there is some matters that do not concern women, and which they do not understand. She turned of a red glow to her neck. "What--you?" she murmured faintly. "It was you?"

And I, like a fool, had never a word, but sat glum and still, staring at her. To look at her it would have seemed that she it was that had took the ring and been discovered.

"Oh, why did you that?" she asked in her low voice. "Was it that you were in need?"

"Faith, no," said I, with a laugh, and never attempting to deny. "There's a plenty of King's pictures to my pockets. But if ye will have it, 'twas his voice annoyed me. I thought 'twas any man's duty and right to take toll of such complacency."

She eyed me sadly, as I hate to be eyed. I can endure the devil's own temper, and a scold's tongue (for I have my own cure for them), but tears, and shining eyes, and melancholy looks--I cannot abide 'em. So says I gruffly,--

"Ye are welcome to them back. I have no use for them. Maybe 'twill teach him a lesson in manners, and that will serve;" whereat I turned the contents of my pocket upon the table and thrust them towards her. She sat looking at the gold and the jewels for some moments in silence, while I looked at her. She was, I'll warrant, a pious good woman, and though such are not generally to my taste, I can appreciate ripe goodness and beauty, and it irked me to think of her being bound with such a surly and unmannerly boar. But presently, with a start, she put out her hands and began to collect the pieces with fever in her haste, glancing fearfully at the door; and no sooner had she disposed of them than in stalks my portentous friend, with an ugly look on his phiz.

"You come from Bristol, sir," says he in a loud voice, "and maybe can explain why you set forth for Taunton from this very house two hours agone by the Bristol Road?"

I gave him a steady stare, for it was plain to me now how he had come by his information, and that he had been questioning the innkeeper about me. It mattered not a rap to me, for he could prove nothing against me, and even if he had, I would have kissed the beam if I could not have settled with that hulking dung-fork. So said I equably,--

"Why the devil should I explain to you?"

"Well, to the justices, if you like it better," said he with an angry snort. "I had a notion that I recognised that voice, and now I know it for certain. You are the thief that made me deliver in the snow on the heath. You have stolen my guineas and my jewels."

Now, he had no witnesses against me, and it would have been the easiest thing in the world to have deceived him, and played him off, and got him into a tangle of fact and evidence and imaginings. But, bless me, ere I could get fairly started upon the sally the poor lady darts in and shoves the fat in the fire.

"Oh, Charles," she cried trepidantly, going towards him, "this gentleman has preserved my life. I pray you forget not that. 'Tis Christmas Eve," says she, "'tis the eve of our Lord's birth, and should teach us mercy. Sir Charles," she says, poor thing, a-bleating, "as you hope for Christ's compassion for yourself visit not this short-coming on one that has shown himself so full of tenderness and pity."

"The devil!" thinks I to myself, pulling a lugubrious face. "She plays King's prosecutor to me. What's to do?"

"Stand aside," says he to her sharply, and glowering on me. But I looked him in the phiz with a smile; I was not incommoded by this silly business, not I. "You make no denial," said he, restraining himself with an effort, as I could see. "You are a ruffianly gallows-bird. You shall hang."

"Oh, Charles," pleaded the poor lady in despair, "he has made restitution. Here's all that was yours--rings, guineas and all. Spare him, I implore you, for his kindness and consideration to me."

"He showed me nice consideration," said he, with a sneer, for he was now confident and a-swagger; "we will dispose of him with as gentle a consideration, madam."

And at that he moved to the door, I doubt not to summon the landlord; but I stepped in his way, for I was tired of his mustard looks and arrogance.

"Rot me," said I, "you mistake my kidney. If 'tis a gentleman of the road you have to deal with, you have yet to learn his quality."

He drew himself up, while the lady looked at me breathless. He was a vastly bigger man than I, but I drew my toasting-fork.

"Madam," said I to the lady, "you have a great heart, but it breaks itself too readily. I would not have that ample heart for half the kingdom. I'll warrant it troubles you. Here you be fretting yourself over this poor carcase which is worth no tears nor tremors, and moreover can look after itself; and I will swear you waste your blood and tissue on this same hulk that I must spit, damn him! Sir," says I to the man, "if ye will stand aside I will learn you to toast or roast as you will, your toes and midriff, afore this fire; but if ye will not you shall taste the sawdust under the table. For I have an appointment in Bristol, and I wait no man's pleasure."

"You threaten me," says he, haughtily, and pulled out his sword.

"Oh, no," says I, "'tis but a plain statement. Will ye go by or go down? Choose ye."

For answer he came at me, for the man was no coward, and did not lack spirit; and we were presently engaged in the discharge of thrusts. He plied his blade not unskilfully, but, Lord, I have learned in a rough school, and 'twas not long ere I was under the cully's guard and took him in the ribs. He collapsed like a log, and the lady uttered a scream, and flying to him bent over him. I dropped my point.

"Faith, my lady," said I, "'tis no more than letting of some of that superfluous blood that animates him. 'Twill fetch down his proud stomach, the which he needs. Let him bleed. 'Twill serve your turn also."

"Sir," says she, remembering me, even in her trouble and confusion, "you were best to go. Fly, fly! 'twas not your fault. He attacked you. Fly!"

Dear heart, there was none in those parts and on that night that might aspire to stop or catch Dick Ryder; but she knew not that, the innocent. I bowed to her.

"Give ye good cheer, madam," said I; "maybe I have served you better than ye think, first with the cold night, and second with the eclipse of this hot blood."

She threw me a wistful, wondering and pitiful glance, and then a groan drew her attention to her husband and she stooped over him tenderly.

At that I swung out of the door and sought my horse; and as I mounted Calypso, says I to the innkeeper, who attended me all unconscious, "I have stuck a point in that muckworm's shoulder," says I, "and ye had better relieve the lady's fears; but," says I, as I rode off, "if I had stuck it in his gizzard, as I had a mind to do, 'twould have served her better." And with that I plunged into the wind and snow of the night.

GALLOWS GATE

'Twas two o'clock of a bright mild March day that I cleared St Leonard's Forest and came out upon the roads at the back of Horsham. I was for London, but chose that way by reason of a better security it promised, which, as it chanced, was a significant piece of irony. Horsham, a mighty quiet pretty town, lay in a blaze of the sun, enduring the sallies of a dusty wind, and feeling hot and athirst after my long ride I pulled up at an inn and dismounted.

"Host," says I, when I was come in, "a pint of your best burgundy or canary to wash this dust adown; and rip me if I will not have it laced with brandy."

"Why, sir," says he, "a cold bright day for horseback," and shakes his head.

"Damme, you're right," says I. "Cold i' the belly and hot in the groin. Here's luck to the house, man," and I tossed off the gallipot, though the brandy barely saved exceeding thin swipes that he had the impudence to pass for wine. "Why, goodman, ye'll make your fortune on this," I said with a laugh and flung open the door to go out, when all of a sudden I came to a silence and a pause.

"'Tis the officers," says the landlord, who was at my ear. "Gadslife, 'tis the sheriff's men from Lewes."

"Lewes!" says I, slowly. "What be they here for?"

"Why," says he, in a flutter, "there was him that was taken for a tobyman by Guildford. He was tried at Lewes, and will hang."

"If he be fool enough to be taken, let him be hanged and be damned," says I, carelessly.