Part 14

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.

When I was got upon my horse I began to go at a walk down the High Street, for though, as was according to nature, I was inquisitive about the matter I was too wary to adventure ere I was sure of my ground. And this denial of unnecessary hazards, as is my custom, saved me from a mishap; for as the procession wound along, the traps and the carriage between 'em, there was one of them that turned his head aside to give an order, and, rip me, if 'twas not that muckworm traitor and canter, the thief-taker Timothy Grubbe. I had an old score with Timothy, the which I had sworn to pay; but that was not the time nor the opportunity, and so I pulled in and lowered my head, lest by chance his evil eye might go my way. As I did so, something struck on the mare's rump, and, looking back, I saw a young man a-horseback that had emerged from a side street.

"Whoa, there!" says I, cheerfully, "are you so blinded by March dust as not to see a gentleman when he goes by?"

He was a slight, handsome-looking youth, of a frank face but of a rustic appearance, and he stammered out an apology.

"Why, I did but jest," I said heartily, "think no more on't, particularly as 'twas my fault to have checked the mare of a sudden. But to say the truth I was gaping at the grand folks yonder."

He stared after the traps, and says he in an interested voice, "Who be they? Is it my Lord Blackdown?"

Now this comparison of that wry-necked, pock-faced villain Grubbe to a person of quality tickled me, but I answered, keeping a straight face,--

"Well, not exactly," says I, "not my lord, but another that should stand, or hang, as high maybe, and shall some day."

"Oh," says he, gazing at me, "a friend of yours, sir?"

He was of a ruddy colour, and his mouth was habitually a little open, giving him an expression of perpetual wonder and innocence, so that, bless you, I knew him at once for what he was at heart--a simple fellow of a natural kindliness, and one of no experience in the world, and a pretty dull wit.

"Not, as you might call him, a friend," said I, gravely, "but rather one that has put an affront upon me."

"You should wipe it out, sir," says this innocent, seriously. "I would allow no man to put an affront on me, gad, I would not."

"Why," said I, dryly, "I bide my time, being, if I may say so, of less mustard and pepper than yourself. Nevertheless, it shall be wiped out to the last stain."

"Gad, I like that spirit," says he, briskly, and, as if it constituted a bond betwixt us, he began to amble slowly at my side. "If there is any mischief, sir," says he, "I trust you will allow me to stand your friend."

Here was innocence indeed, yet I could have clapped him on the back for a brick of good-fellowship and friendliness, and, relaxing my tone, I turned the talk on himself.

"You are for a journey?" says I.

He nodded, and his colour rose, but he frowned. "I am for Effingham," said he.

"So am I," said I, "at least I pass that way," which was not so, for I was for Reading, and had meant to go by Guildford. Yet I was in no mind to risk an encounter with Grubbe and his lambs, who were bound for Guildford, if what the innkeeper said was true, and the way by Effingham would serve me as well as another. He looked pleased, and says he,--

"Why, we will travel in company," says he.

"With all my heart," said I.

The traps had disappeared upon the Guildford road in a mist of dust, and we jogged on comfortably till we came to cross-roads, where we turned away for Slinfold, reaching that village nearby two of the clock. Here my companion must slake his thirst, and I was nothing loth. He had a gentlemanly air about him for all his rustic habit, and very pleasantly, if with some awkwardness, offered me of a bottle.

"You mind me," said I, drinking to him, for I liked the fellow, "of a lad that I knew that was in the wars."

"Was you in the wars?" says he, eagerly.

I had meant the wars of the road, which indeed are as perilous and as venturesome as the high quarrels of ravening nations.

"I served in Flanders," said I.

"My father fought for his gracious Majesty, Charles I.," says he, quickly, "and took a deep wound at Marston Moor. There was never a braver man than Squire Masters of Rockham."

"I'll warrant his son is his spit," said I.

He bowed, as if he were at court. "Your servant, sir," says he, smiling well-pleased, and eyed me. "You have seen much service, sir?" he asked.

"Why, as much as will serve, Mr Masters," said I.

He looked at me shyly. "You have my name now," said he, and left his question in the air.

"You may call me Ryder," said I.

"You have had your company, sir?" he went on in a hesitating voice.

"Not always as good company as this," I replied laughing.

"I knew it," said he, eagerly. "You are Captain Ryder?"

"There have been those that have put that style on me," I answered, amused at his persistence.

"I am glad that I have met you, Captain," said this young fool, and put his arm in mine quite affectionately. "I have been unhappily kept much at home, and have seen less than I might of things beyond the hills. Not but what Sussex is a fine shire," he says with a sigh.

"Why, it is fine if so be your home be there," I replied.

"My home is there," he said, and paused, and again the frown wrinkled up his brow.

He said no more till we were in the saddle again and had gone some half a mile, and then he spoke, and I knew his poor brain had been playing pitch and toss with some thought.

"Captain Ryder," said he, abruptly, "you have travelled far and seen much. You might advise one junior to you on a matter of worldly wisdom."

Sink me (thinks I), what's the boy after; but says I gravely from a mutinous face, "You can hang your faith on me for an opinion or a blow, Mr Masters."

"Thank you," says he, heartily, and then thrust a hand into his bosom and rapidly stuck at me a document. "Read that, sir," said he, impulsively.

I opened it, and found 'twas writ in a woman's hand, and subscribed Anne Varley; and the marrow of it was fond affection. Why, 'twas but a common love-billet he had given me, of the which I have seen dozens and received very many--some from persons of quality that would astonish you. But what was I to do with this honest ninny and his mistress? I had no nose for it, and so said I, handing him back his letter,--

"It has a sweet smack and 'tis pretty enough inditing."

"Ah," says he, quickly, "'tis her nature, Captain--'tis her heart that speaks. Yet is she denied by her parents. They will have none of me."

"The more to their shame," I said.

"They aspire high," says he, "as Anne's beauty and virtues of themselves would justify. Yet she does love me, and I her, and we are of one spirit and heart. See you how she loves me, poor thing, poor silly puss! And they would persuade her to renunciation. But she shall not--she shall not, I swear it," he cried in excitement. "She shall be free to choose whom she will."

"Spoken like a man of temper," said I, approvingly. "You will go win her forthright."