"Sir,--Your conduct, which I have had the sorrow and misfortune of discovering lately, and of which you yourself must be conscious; the evil uses which you have made of my father's unsuspecting hospitality and kindness, and the pain and discomfort which you have occasioned in my family, compel me not only to inform you that I can no longer look upon you as a relation, but to require that you give me immediate satisfaction for the injuries you have inflicted. The circumstances in which I am placed drive me to abridge the usual courtesies upon this occasion, for which I pray your excuse. To avoid all publicity and the chance of interference, I shall apparently take my departure from Norwich this day; but you will not fail to find me in the wilderness of the duke's house, near the fish-pond, this evening at ten, when there will be sufficient moonlight for our purpose. I send you inclosed the length of my sword; and if you be a man of courage, for which I give you credit, you will be at the spot appointed, and alone, as I shall be.
"I have the honor to subscribe myself your most obedient and very humble servant,
"Henry Woodhall."
"Let me see, let me see," said Robert; and, taking the note from his cousin's hand, he read it over very considerately, pausing and pondering upon every word. There were some things that he could have well wished omitted; but, upon the whole, it was better than he expected--that is to say, more suitable to his purpose--and, after some consideration, he determined to let it go without alteration. "Master Ralph," he thought, "will fancy that the whole weight of the offense is having made love to my pretty Lady Margaret contrary to the will and wishes of papa and brother: that can hardly be explained away, I think. Nevertheless, doubtless he will endeavor to explain it as best he can. He will not like fighting the brother, for whatever comes of it must be ill for him. I must contrive to stop all explanations, and bring them to the point of the sword. There, whatever they may do will be done for me."
This last thought carried on his mind for some little time in a different direction. An important subject of consideration started itself; but he reserved it for future thought, and brought back his mind to the affair of the present. He saw that he must prevent any communication between the cousins, as explanation, if it did not absolutely lead to the discovery of his villainy, would, at all events, frustrate his object, and throw suspicion on his character. To do so, however, was very easy. Henry's absence till the hour of meeting was all that was needful on one part, and that was already arranged. The only chance of another turn being given to the whole affair was, that Ralph, with his frank and open nature, might set out, as soon as he received the challenge, to follow Lord Woodhall and his family, meet all charges boldly, and explain his whole conduct. Some means, he thought, must be devised to prevent such an occurrence; but he determined to leave that also for after consideration, to obtain from Henry the task of delivering his letter, and to delay its execution till after Lord Woodhall's departure.
"Who shall I send it by?" said his cousin, interrupting his reverie's, somewhat impatiently.
"Oh, I will take it, of course," replied Robert; "I think the best plan will be, Henry, for me to remain here another day; I can then get Master Ralph's answer."
"Remain or not, as you like," replied Henry Woodhall; "but his answer I will have before I quit this place--if any answer indeed is to be given. I appoint a meeting. Any man of courage or honor will feel himself obliged to be there, without further question. Ralph is undoubtedly a man of courage; I have seen him tried; but he may not like to fight me in this cause; and I will have yea or nay."
Robert felt that he had made a false step, but he hastened to retrieve it by another stroke of his art.
"Well, then," he said, "let us send it by my servant Roger; he is skillful in all small diplomacies. He shall be here in a moment. Fold it up, and seal it with your largest seal, remember, while I throw on a dressing-gown and seek for my good man."
Henry Woodhall sat down to the table, and his cousin left the room. Close to his own door he met his man Roger, coquetting with a pretty-looking waiting-woman somewhat over-dressed. He had no hesitation, however, in breaking through their sweet conversation by calling Master Roger to the window at the further end of the corridor.
"Who is that?" he asked, fixing his eyes upon the girl, as she retreated toward the head of the stairs.
"Only Lady Danvers's waiting-woman," answered Roger, with a simper; "she is a sweet creature, and uncommonly kind."
"Ah!" said his master; "now listen to me;" and he proceeded in a low voice to give the man the instructions which he thought needful. He repeated them over twice with great precision, and each time Roger bowed his head and said, "It shall be done, sir." How he fulfilled his mission I shall now proceed to show.
Robert Woodhall returned at once to his own room, saying as he entered, "I can not find the scoundrel; but he will be here soon, for he knows my hour, and that I won't endure negligence."
Henry Woodhall rose with a look of impatience, and walked up and down the room. A few minutes after, there was a knock at the door, and the servant entered.
"You are late," said his master, in an affectedly sharp tone.
"No, sir, to a minute," replied Roger; "the castle clock is now striking."
"Well, that matters not," cried Henry; "take this letter to the room of Master Ralph Woodhall, and bring me back an answer, if he thinks fit to send one."
"Instantly, sir," said the man, taking the note with a very humble bow; and, with a look of perfect unconsciousness, he quitted the room. He then directed his course at once toward the apartment of Ralph, but he communed with himself as he went. "A guinea!" he said; "a guinea! and something more in prospect! Upon my soul, my honorable master is generous and free of his money. Hang me if I do not spoil this little scheme for him, just to show him that he can not work without me. But I must be cautious, so that he does not find out who did it."
He put the letter in his pocket, and walked straight on to Ralph's door, where he knocked.
Now most of the rooms in the duke's palace at Norwich had ante-rooms to them, which was the case here. Thus the door was opened, not by Ralph Woodhall himself, but by no less a person than Gaunt Stilling; and the servants of the two cousins stood face to face, eyeing each other for a moment with a somewhat sinister expression, like two quarrelsome dogs meeting suddenly at the corner of a street and deliberating, ere they set to, as to which shall give the first bite.
"Good morning to you, Mr. Stilling," said Roger, who was the first to drop his tail, if I may follow out my simile; for a soldier of the Tangier regiment might well be considered a very formidable opponent. "Let us forget all grudges. I have had no share, for my part, in doing you any wrong; and I now bear a message from my master to yours--not very willingly, for, to say the truth, I don't do much of my master's work willingly at all; but a man must gain his bread, you know."
"What is your message?" asked Gaunt Stilling, sharply, adding something, muttered between his teeth, which the other did not hear.
"My master told me to say," replied Roger, "that he will be obliged if your master will be in this room of his at noon to-day, as he has something to say to him at that hour."
"Very well, so be it," replied Gaunt Stilling, and was then about to close the door, which he held in his hand, in the other man's face. A sudden change of thought seemed to come across him, however, and he opened it wider than before, saying, "Harkee, Roger, I do not believe you are so bad as the rest of them. I never saw you at our house with your scoundrel master; and, if you take my advice, you will quit his service as soon as possible, otherwise bad luck may befall you."
"Find me another place first, Mr. Stilling," replied Roger; "but, however, I will talk more with you of it by-and-by. I dare say we shall soon meet; and I do not like my place much, I can tell you, in any way."
Gaunt Stilling nodded his head and shut the door.
Robert Woodhall's servant then directed his steps quite in a different direction from his master's chamber, found out Lady Danvers's waiting-woman on the floor below, and whispered a word in her ear.
"A challenge!" cried the maid.
"Yes," replied Roger, in a solemn tone, "about some words which passed between them last night in the ball-room."
"And when are they going to fight?" cried the young lady.
"Some time in the afternoon." replied Roger; "but the hour I did not hear, for I was talking with a pretty little gill-flirt, of whom you know something, in the passage. She was as cruel as Queen Mary, and made me lose the best part of the story. Can I find you again in an hour?"
"Not you," cried the girl, with a coquettish air.
"I am obliged to go now," said Roger, "but I will hunt the house for you very soon. Mind you don't tell any one what I have told you."
"Oh dear, no," replied the girl, "I would not tell any one for the world;" and away she went, and told her mistress every word.
In the mean time Roger made his way back to his master's room, having calculated--for he was a great calculator--that the little interlude which had just passed would precisely fill up the lapse of time that might have been consumed in reading the letter of which he was the bearer, if he had delivered it. He entered without ceremony; and, as he expected, the first question was, "Have you taken the letter?"
"Yes, sir," replied Roger, mentally adding, "and brought it back again."
"What was the answer?" demanded Robert Woodhall.
"Very short, sir," replied Roger; "all that was said was 'Very well, so be it.'"
"So I say too," cried Henry Woodhall; "so be it, Master Ralph. I knew he would not flinch, Robert; but now I will go and get my father and Margaret off as soon as possible, and return and join you here from our first halting-place."
"Good," replied Robert, regarding his cousin with a somewhat supercilious smile, which the other could not help remarking. His thoughts, however, were busy with other things, and he made no inquiry regarding the cause, but at once quitted the room.
Robert remained seated, with his eyes fixed upon the table, and for some moments he was motionless as well as silent. There are people, however, who, when thought is very strong within them, love to have some active demonstration of the conclusions at which they have arrived. Robert Woodhall raised both his hands, and with the index finger of the right touched first one and then another of the left-hand, pausing between the second and third, and then going on to the third and fourth.
"So," he said; "ay, so."
At that moment his eye rested upon his servant Roger, and he exclaimed, angrily, "What are you lingering for? quit the room."
"I thought you might want me, sir," replied the man; "and you told me to bring the letter back again, and deliver it to you."
Thus saying, he placed the challenge before his master, and retreated to the ante-room, where he paused for an instant to consider what he termed "the finger work."
"That is to say, as plain as it can speak," said Roger to himself, imitating his master's gesticulations, "finger one, Henry kills Ralph; finger two, a troublesome rival out of my way, and I revenged by another man's sword--very good. Finger three, Ralph kills Henry; finger four, a better man than myself taken out of the world, an everlasting barrier put between Master Ralph and Mistress Margaret, Lord Woodhall without an heir, and I Baron Woodhall on his death--very good, indeed! Clever, Master Robert, clever! I did not think you had so much wit; but there are other witty people in the world as well as yourself."
Within two hours after the events of which I have just spoken, the family of Lord Woodhall, that is to say, himself, his son, and daughter, took leave of the Duke of Norfolk, and, followed by a great mob of servants, mounted on horseback as was the custom in those days, set out in the family coach on the road to London. Robert Woodhall remained behind upon some one of the many excuses for any thing that he liked to do, which he was never without. He waited for a full hour, however, before he proceeded to take advantage of the absence of his family, remaining quietly in his own room all the morning, and cogitating with considerable satisfaction upon the probable result of the arrangements he had made.
About noon, however, he called his servant Roger, gave him the challenge, and told him to carry it to Mr. Ralph Woodhall. He did not choose to take it himself; for Ralph, he knew was somewhat impetuous, and the pass of a sword between them might soon have given an entirely new face to the whole state of affairs. He was cautious, too--very cautious; and in giving the letter into the hands of his servant, he said, "You need not tell him that I am still here. Let him think that I have gone with the rest, as he was not about when they departed. If he asks, you may say I will certainly be back to-night."
"I understand, sir, I understand," replied Roger, and away he went with the letter.
On knocking at Ralph Woodhall's door--carrying this time the letter openly in his hand--Roger was once more encountered by Gaunt Stilling, who received him very graciously, and asked him to come into the ante-room.
"What have you got there?" asked Stilling, pointing to the letter.
"An epistle for your master," replied Roger, with a certain significant smile, "which is to be delivered immediately, Master Stilling."
"Mr. Ralph Woodhall is not here now," replied the other; "he was sent by the duke to escort Lady Danvers on her way home."
"I know that as well as you do," answered Roger; "I saw him go some time before our people; but I only obey orders, Master Stilling. Did you give him the message I left?"
"Certainly," replied Stilling; "and he answered as became him, 'that if your master had any thing to say to him, he must wait his time and convenience.'"
"Proud!" said Roger, with a laugh; "proud, but quite right! I must give you the letter, however, though I suspect it will not reach him in time for its purpose."
"He will be back before nightfall," replied Gaunt Stilling, emphatically; "of that you may assure your master. Pray, what is the purport of the letter, as you seem to know all about it?"
"A challenge--nothing but a challenge," replied Roger, with a jaunty air.
"Time and place appointed?" asked Stilling, quite quietly; "I suppose you know that too?"
"Oh yes," replied Roger; "I do not think my master ought to have any secrets from so faithful a person as myself, and therefore, to the best of my abilities, I remedy his negligence when he forgets to tell me any thing. You see the letter is very convenient--folded up in haste, and the ends quite open. Just take a peep. There you will see--Place, the fish-pond at the end of the wilderness--Time, ten o'clock to-night, when the moon is well up--Length of sword, twenty-eight inches."
"Ralph Woodhall will not stand upon an inch or two," replied Gaunt Stilling, with a grim smile. "You may tell your master, on my assurance, that Mr. Ralph will be back before sundown, and will not fail to be on the spot named at the hour appointed. Is your master here?"
Roger had the greatest possible inclination, for once in his life, to tell the truth; but the reader will remark, that the telling of the truth in this instance would have been nearly equal in value to telling a lie, as it was a betrayal of his master's confidence, which might have been as satisfactory to him. However, the fear of something occurring to expose his disobedience overweighed other considerations, and he replied, "No, he has gone away, but he will come back with Mr. Henry to-night."
"Good," said Gaunt Stilling, "good--a pleasant afternoon to you, Master Roger."
"What?" asked the servant, in some apparent surprise at the valediction.
"I only said good afternoon to you," answered Gaunt Stilling, coolly. "I wish to be left alone."
This significant hint was sufficient, and Roger took his departure to inform his master that Mr. Ralph Woodhall would undoubtedly return before night, and would be at the place appointed. Robert was well satisfied, but Gaunt Stilling was not completely so. He walked up and down the room several times, thinking deeply, and often muttering to himself, "One push of a sword," he said, "and the account is settled--God speed the good lad's arm. Oh, if he had but used the sword as much as I have! Yet he seems to fence well."
He then looked very hard at the letter several times, as if he had a strong inclination to pry into the contents; but at length he muttered, "No, no, I remember what he said upon the road. I will not do a dirty action." Then, after having thought for a minute or two more, and felt, perhaps, very eager to see the whole, he exclaimed, "Nay, I will put it on his table. There he will find it when he comes back."
Let us pass over a few hours; for long details will not suit the conclusion of a chapter, and we must hurry to the end of the first act of this strange, eventful history.
It was night, and nearly ten o'clock. There were two persons in Robert Woodhall's room, and his servant Roger standing on the outside of the door.
"No, no," said Henry Woodhall, whose face was somewhat pale and haggard, "I go alone. I insist that you do not come with me, Robert, nor follow me. Push over the light; I wish to seal this letter."
"For whom is it intended?" asked his cousin, somewhat eagerly.
"For the Duke of Norfolk," replied Henry; and he then added, in a calm and easy tone, "The issue of such encounters is always uncertain. The night is darker than I expected; and I may chance to fall. If so, I wish the duke to know all about this affair. If I live, I can explain all myself."
"I will take care that it shall be delivered to him in case of such unlooked-for misfortune," replied Robert, in a tone of very well simulated apprehension.
"Your pardon, my good cousin," said Henry; "my own servant is below, and shall have orders to give it to the duke if I do not return. There, there," he continued, seeing that his cousin was about to remonstrate, "I will have my way, and have not time to dispute."
He took out his watch and said, "Eight minutes." Then sealing the letter, he lifted his hat from the table, made sure that his sword moved easily in its sheath, and, shaking his cousin's hand, without another word quitted the room.
Robert opened the door and listened, and it were vain to say that his heart did not beat. As soon as he heard his cousin's step upon the stairs, he drew his servant into the room, and whispered, with a ghastly look and eager eye, "Follow him, Roger, follow him at a distance, to the fish-pond at the end of the wilderness. See what happens, and bring me information instantly of the result."
The man departed without reply, but there was a curious sort of smile upon his lip as he walked along the corridor. A quarter of an hour passed, during which Robert continued to stride slowly up and down his room, with his hands clasped tight together, his eyes straining upon the floor as if they would have burst from his head, and his cheek of an ashy paleness. The spirit of Cain was in his heart. He felt--he knew, that at that moment he was committing murder. But the fiery torture of that deed--commencing generally in rage and ending in remorse, with but one momentary point for act between them--was to him protracted through all those long, long minutes. At length he heard a step coming with lightning speed up the stairs, and the next instant his servant burst into the room. There was no smile upon his face now. It was ghastly and full of horror: he panted for breath.
"Speak! speak!" cried his master; "what has happened?"
"He is killed, sir," replied the man.
"Who? who?" demanded Robert, aloud, forgetting all caution.
"Mr. Henry, I believe--nay, I am sure," answered Roger; "the night is dark: there is a thin mist all over the ground by the side of the river: I could see nothing till I got very near; but I heard the swords grating. After I came in sight, there were but three passes, and then Mr. Henry fell and lay quite still. Mr. Ralph is the taller, is he not?"
"Yes--yes," replied his master; "Henry was my height, Ralph much taller."
"Then Mr. Henry is gone," replied the man, "for it was the short one who fell. The business must have got abroad, for a number of the duke's people were hurrying out--Hark! they are bringing him up hither."
"Take the body to the room where he slept last night," said the voice of the chamberlain upon the stairs; "I will go and inform my lord duke."
In the vast, immeasurable depth of thought, there are so many resources, that one would suppose it were quite unnecessary for any one to repeat himself or to copy others, let him write as much as he will; and yet we see continually men of considerable powers of mind borrowing largely--I might even say systematically--from the works of ancient or cotemporary writers: not always the identical words, though sometimes those; not always the identical thought, though sometimes that; but, more generally, the ideas suggested by the thoughts of others, and so intimately blended with them as to be inseparable--judging themselves safe from the accusation of plagiarism upon the same plea which was put forth by a thief indicted for stealing a scarf, who proved he had only taken the gold fringe. I know many men who never compose--and they are men who write much, and well--without having open around them many works of precisely the same character as that which they are writing. It is a dangerous habit, and much to be avoided. Indeed, we pray against it every day when we nay, "Lead us not into temptation."
As to repeating one's self, it is no very great crime, perhaps, for I never heard that robbing Peter to pay Paul was punishable under any law or statute, and the multitude of offenders in this sense, in all ages, and in all circumstances, if not an excuse, is a palliation, showing the frailty of human nature, and that we are as frail as others--but no more. The cause of this self-repetition, probably, is not a paucity of ideas, not an infertility of fancy, not a want of imagination or invention, but that, like children sent daily to draw water from a stream, we get into the habit of dropping our buckets into that same immeasurable depth of thought exactly at the same place; and though it be not exactly the same water as that which we drew up the day before it is very similar in quality and flavor, a little clearer or a little more turbid, as the case may be.
Now this dissertation--which may be considered as an introduction or preface to the second division of my history--has been brought about, has had its rise, origin, source, in an anxious and careful endeavor to avoid, if possible, introducing into this work the two solitary horsemen--one upon a white horse--which, by one mode or another, have found their way into probably one out of three of all the books I have written; and I need hardly tell the reader that the name of these books is legion. They are, perhaps, too many; but, though I must die, some of them will live--I know it, I feel it; and I must continue to write while this spirit is in this body.
To say truth, I do not know why I should wish to get rid of my two horsemen, especially the one on the white horse. Wouvermans always had a white horse in all his pictures; and I do not see why I should not put my signature, my emblem, my monogram, in my paper and ink pictures as well as any painter of them all. I am not sure that other authors do not do the same thing--that Lytton has not always, or very nearly, a philosophizing libertine--Dickens, a very charming young girl, with dear little pockets; and Lever, a bold dragoon. Nevertheless, upon my life, if I can help it, we will not have in this work the two horsemen and the white horse, albeit, in after times--when my name is placed with Homer and Shakspeare, or in any other more likely position--there may arise serious and acrimonious disputes as to the real authorship of the book, from its wanting my own peculiar and distinctive mark and characteristic.
But here, while writing about plagiarism, I have been myself a plagiary; and it shall not remain without acknowledgment, having suffered somewhat in that sort myself. Hear, my excellent friend, Leigh Hunt, soul of mild goodness, honest truth, and gentle brightness! I acknowledge that I stole from you the defensive image of Wouvermans's white horse, which you incautiously put within my reach, on one bright night of long, dreamy conversation, when our ideas of many things, wide as the poles asunder, met suddenly without clashing, or produced but a cool, quiet spark--as the white stones which children rub together in dark corners emit a soft, phosphorescent gleam, that serves but to light their little noses.
The call was very sudden. Ralph Woodhall was taken quite by surprise. He had calculated upon finding some opportunity, during the day, of quiet conversation with his Margaret; and now to be desired by his friend and patron, the Duke of Norfolk, to escort Lady Danvers upon her road westward, caused him some trouble and anxiety. He knew not how to refuse, however; for the duke informed him that intimation had been received of tumults on the road, and the fair Hortensia herself was present, looking as beautiful as ever, but pale and considerably agitated, and apparently alarmed. In such circumstances there was no showing even any hesitation, and, turning to the lady, he said, "If you will but wait for me five minutes, Lady Danvers, I will be ready. I wish to say a few words to my cousin, who must be up by this time, and--"
"Oh, there will be plenty of time for that after you return, Master Woodhall," said the duke. "Lord Woodhall announced last night his intention of remaining till to-morrow or the next day. So sure was I of your prompt readiness, that I took the liberty of ordering your horse to be saddled, and he now stands at the door, with five of my own servants ready to accompany our fair friend's carriage."
This was said with some stateliness, and Ralph evidently saw that there was something unexplained.
"I will get my hat and gloves, then," he said, "and be ready to escort Lady Danvers at once."
"I will send for them," replied the duke; and, raising his voice, he called a servant, saying, "Minton, get Mr. Woodhall's hat and gloves."
Ralph smiled, but made no reply; and as soon as the servant returned with what he had been sent for, he followed the duke, who, with ancient courtesy, conducted the lady to her carriage, and kissed her fair hand as he placed her in it, whispering, at the same time, "You see I have obeyed your injunctions to the letter; but take care of your reputation, dear lady."
Hortensia blushed to the eyes, but answered gayly, "Never fear that, my lord duke; I do right, and defy scandal."
The carriage moved on, and Ralph Woodhall followed it, with the Duke of Norfolk's servants and those of the fair baroness following him. Throughout the first five miles of the journey poor Margaret might have seen him with relief and satisfaction to her own heart. Thoughtful and abstracted, he kept near the carriage, it is true, but he never once approached its side. He rode on at the slow, uneasy pace which was necessary to keep up with, but not pass by the heavy vehicle; with eyes turned toward the ground and a somewhat contracted brow. He was not sullen, for his was a frank and cheerful heart; and, though he was grieved to be deprived of Margaret's society even for a few hours when he could have enjoyed it without peril to himself or her, that would never have clouded his bright look, when he sacrificed his wishes to be of service to another. But there appeared something strange to him in all that had lately passed--something that roused suspicions of a vague, unpleasant kind--that showed him he was made an instrument of for some purpose which was carefully concealed from himself.
"Could it be at the desire of Lord Woodhall that he was sent away?" he asked himself. "Couldhislove for Margaret, or Margaret's love for him, have been discovered?" Perhaps it might be so; and the intention of the parties might be to remove him away from the house upon some fair excuse till she was gone.
The thought was very bitter to him; but yet his mind clung to it; and the more he reflected, the more probable the supposition seemed. There were objections, it is true. That the Duke of Norfolk should have condescended to have mingled himself with such a deceit, was not at all likely; and he could not imagine for one moment that Lady Danvers would have knowingly lent herself to it. All the opinions she had expressed the night before--her whole conduct--her whole manner--her very look, were opposed to it; and yet the anxiety to hurry him away, to prevent him from speaking with any of his relations, or even seeing them before he went, the few whispered words that passed between the duke and Hortensia, which he had remarked, although he did not hear them distinctly, all seemed to tend to such a conclusion, and puzzled him sorely. He revolved the whole in his mind, first turning the argument one way, and then another--at one time convinced, and at another doubting. Thus he rode on pondering, as I have said, for some miles, when suddenly the sound of a horse's feet coming rapidly behind attracted his ear, and he turned and looked round. The servants of the Duke of Norfolk were in the way, so that he could not see who approached; but the moment after, doubt was ended by his own man Gaunt Stilling riding up.
"What is the matter?" asked Ralph, as the servant drew close to his side. "Has any thing gone amiss?"
"I heard you had gone away for the morning, sir," replied the man, respectfully, "and as you had left your riding-sword and taken your small sword, and had forgotten your cloak, I made bold to ride after you with them."
Ralph unfastened the dangling, inconvenient weapon he carried, gave it back to the man, and put on the other sword--more serviceable on horseback--which he had brought. Then, pausing for a moment, he suffered him to strap the folded riding-cloak to the back of the saddle without dismounting, and seeing him linger, asked, "Is there any thing more?"
Gaunt Stilling approached as close as he could, and spoke several sentences to his master in a whisper. Ralph turned, and put a question or two in the same tone, with an expression of some, but not great, surprise on his face. The man replied, and it was only the dumb-show which the Duke of Norfolk's servants witnessed. At length the young gentleman said aloud, "I will certainly be back before nightfall, unless some very unexpected circumstances occur to render it impossible, but, at all events, before bedtime."
Gaunt Stilling took off his hat gracefully enough, and rode away, directing his horse toward Norwich; and, after giving nearly half an hour more to deep meditation, apparently not of the most pleasant character, Ralph rode up to the side of the carriage, and commenced what he would fain have made an easy conversation with its fair inmate.
While this little event occurred, and these thoughts and considerations had been passing in his mind, he had himself been the object of some interest and anxiety to Lady Danvers. She attributed, indeed, his thoughtful, gloomy mood, and want of ordinary gallantly, to very different feelings from those which were really in his breast.
"He has received the challenge," she thought, "and is fearful he won't get back in time;" and then, addressing the maid, who sat opposite, she said, "Look out, and tell me what he is doing now."
"Just the same as before, my lady," replied the girl, "looking down at his horse's neck, as if he were counting the hairs in the mane, and gloomy enough he looks too."
"We must prevent him from escaping, Alice," said her mistress; "but I know not well how to manage to detain him, till it is too late for him to go back."
"Trust to chance, my lady," replied the waiting-woman; "it is a rare book, that chapter of accidents, if one knows how to read it rightly. But I dare say the duke has told his own people how to manage it. I saw him speaking with Master Wilton, the head groom, who goes with us. I should not wonder if the young gentleman's horse cast a shoe, or went dead lame, or something of that kind."
Lady Danvers smiled, but replied, "I will not trust to that, Alice. The duke seemed more indifferent about the matter than I expected. He said that boys would fight, but that to please me he would prevent this affair. I trust to his word as far as his ability goes, for he is a man of honor; but I do not think he will be very active in the business."
"Oh dear," replied the maid, "I should think, for my part, he would be glad enough to stop two handsome young gentlemen from cutting each other's throats on his own ground. I do hate the sight of those swords; and if I were king, I would have them all taken from them, and locked up against a time of war. But the duke certainly can not like such things."
Hortensia Danvers shook her head. "Neither you nor I, Alice," she said, "can understand men's feelings about these things; we have a great objection to be cut, or wounded, or hurt in any way, and bloodshed is naturally horrible to us. But no man cares much about such things in his own case, and, of course, can not be expected to care more in the case of others."
It was at this moment that Ralph rode up to the side of the carriage, saying, with an effort, "The roads are bad, notwithstanding the fine weather; but I fear we shall have rain, for there is much mist lying on the low ground."
"I do not think that is a sign of rain," replied Lady Danvers; "but I am no good judge of signs and seasons."
"Would that I were," replied Ralph; "for there are many that I do not understand."
"I must not pretend to be interpreter," replied Lady Danvers, in a gay tone; "however, if you wish me to act the Sibyl, propound your questions, and I will try. You must take the oracle for what it is worth, and remember that all such answers always read two ways. But would it not be better for you to give your horse to one of the men, and take a seat here beside me till we arrive at some point of danger, when, of course, my knight will mount on horseback and deliver me?"
"With all my heart," replied Ralph; "then I can question the prophetess at ease."
Thus saying, he ordered the coachman to stop, dismounted, and entered the carriage.
"You mentioned danger just now," he said, as soon as they were going forward again. "Now tell me, dear Lady Danvers, do you really think there is any danger?"
"Undoubtedly," replied Lady Danvers; "both I and the duke thought so, or you would not have been with me now."
"But have you had any intelligence which should make you fear?" asked Ralph.
"Distinct and certain," answered the fair lady. "It is true I am somewhat of a timid nature, and am apt, perhaps, to be frightened occasionally without cause; but such is not the case with his grace of Norfolk, and he judged that my apprehensions were very reasonable."
"May I ask where the danger lies, and in what it consists?" inquired Ralph.
"Nay, I do not know that I can give you a consistent account of the whole matter," replied Hortensia, with a quiet smile; "but we heard of much discord and quarreling, and that there was likely to be a fight."
"Indeed!" replied Ralph, with an air so perfectly unconscious that Lady Danvers began to ask herself if she had been misled by her maid's information, or if he was acting the hypocrite to perfection.
"Have you had no cause to suppose such things are likely to take place?" she asked.
"None whatever," he replied; "so little so, indeed, that I almost fancied, from the extremely pressing hurry in which I was dispatched upon this pleasant task, that the duke did not only desire to confer upon me the honor and happiness of escorting you, but also to get me out of the way for a time."
Hortensia raised her beautiful eyes to his face, and fixed them there while she inquired, "Do you know of any motive he could have for such a proceeding?"
"I can fix upon none in particular, and have been puzzling myself to divine one," replied Ralph; but, at the same time, he colored highly, and Hortensia was satisfied.
A silence of some minutes ensued; and then the lady, with all her quiet gayety, resumed the conversation: "I do think--to use a housemaid's mode of asseveration," she said, "that you are the most ungallant young man that I ever met with--I don't say discourteous, for your manner is fair enough, Master Ralph Woodhall; but I do not believe that there is one man to be found in court, camp, or city, who would have gone about to discover any cause for his being sent on a journey with me, or who would not, if forced to take it, have sworn most devoutly on the Holy Evangelists that it was the most blessed chance that ever befell him--whether he thought it so or not, Ralph Woodhall--you understand, whether he thought it so or not."
Ralph felt that he had in some degree failed in politeness, and he replied, "No one, dear lady, would have told you so more readily, and no one would have felt it more sincerely than myself, upon any other day than this; but I had to-day something important to do, which rendered what would otherwise have been a true pleasure, the cause of some slight embarrassment; but you see I am too straightforward to be courtly, even when I do my best."
"I like you all the better," replied Lady Danvers, frankly; "but now let us talk of something else. I dare say and hope that you will get back in plenty of time to do all that you want to do, if it be right and proper: if it be not, I hope you won't; for I am certainly not going to give you up, and send you back again sooner than I please, because you are cross at being taken away from Norwich. Be therefore exceedingly civil and amusing during the whole of the rest of the journey, in the hope that your chains may thereby be broken all the speedier."
Ralph thought that her philosophy was a good one, and exerted himself to cast off the feeling of disappointment, and to make himself as agreeable as possible for the rest of the way. He succeeded very well, although, to speak the truth, he did so greatly by the assistance of Hortensia who put forth all her powers to amuse the hour. Thus passed the time upon the long and weary way which lies between Norwich and the western part of the county. It is not very picturesque even now, displaying but little beauty and little variety, except the beauty of exceedingly well cultivated fields, and the variety of oxen and sheep, sportsmen and dogs. But culture could then hardly be said to have begun; and it was not a sporting season of the year. There was no inducement, therefore, for the lady and her companion to turn their eyes from the interior of the carriage; and, to say sooth, if Ralph desired a lovely prospect, he could not have had one more beautiful than the face and form of her who sat beside him. He could not but feel, too, the fascination of her look and manner; and her conversation, gay, light, and playful as it was, had frequently running through it, like dark veins in the clear white marble, a strain of melancholy which rendered it still more charming. It was like a light, blithesome bird, that dips its wings for an instant in a cool stream, only to rise again refreshed and brightened.
Slowly as the coach proceeded--and it was one of those large, lumbering, gilded vehicles which we can not imagine to have traveled at the rate of more than four miles an hour--five hours had been consumed ere the party reached the little town of ----.
Ralph was glad to see it, for he thought he should be there dismissed; and yet there were feelings of regret at parting with that fair and charming girl--feelings which, could Margaret have seen them really as they were, would have given her neither pain nor offense. It was now between two and three o'clock, and there was a good deal of gayety and bustle in the town, the streets crowded, wagons and market-carts obstructing the way, and countrymen riding rough-looking horses, with their tails tied up to keep them out of the mud. With some difficulty the carriage moved along the road; and Ralph remounted his horse in order to give directions for clearing the way. They reached at length the inn door, where the horses were to be fed and to rest for an hour or two. Ralph handed Lady Danvers from the carriage, and was leading her through a little crowd which had gathered before the inn, when he remarked that, although the appearance of such a vehicle in a remote place might well attract attention, the eyes of the mob were principally turned in another direction, as if watching for some object coming down the street.
"Dear me! my lady, there is something going on," said Mistress Alice, the waiting-maid; "what can it be about?"
Hortensia made no reply, but, quitting Ralph's arm upon the step, walked hastily into the house, and then whispered to the maid, "Send the duke's head groom to me at once."
The landlord was, in the mean time, bowing low; and his good dame, with abundant keys, and more than one pin-cushion by her side, was courtesying to the ground, ready to show the beautiful lady to her chamber.
"What is the matter without?" asked Lady Danvers; "the people seem a good deal excited."
"Oh, it is nothing at all," replied the landlady, "only a Nonconformist gentleman who has been examined by the magistrates. They are taking him away to the jail, and the people do not like it. I should not wonder if there were to be a riot to-night; for the Whigs have the upper hand in this town, and they don't bear patiently all that is going on."
Hortensia turned and looked through the doorway into the street. She saw Ralph standing on the steps, and a crowd passing hurriedly on before him. The next instant, however, she beheld him spring forward, and heard him exclaim. "Why do you strike the man, sir? You are exceeding your duty. He can not go faster than he does."
What was answered she did not hear; and the steps of the inn were almost instantly covered with a multitude of people, who shut out from her sight what was passing beyond.
"Come up, my lady--come up stairs," cried the landlord; "they will make bad work of it."
Hortensia followed up the stairs as fast as the landlord could go; and, shown into a large and handsome room which faced the street, she ran forward, threw open the window, and looked out. The sign-board of the inn was in the way, so that she could not see the exact spot where Ralph stood; but she heard angry words and fierce tones going on below, and a moment after, stones began to fly and cudgels to wave. But the next instant the sound of Ralph's voice rose up over the din, exclaiming, clear and loud, "Keep the peace--keep the peace! Suffer the constables to do their duty according to law; and you, sirs, take care that you do not exceed the law, as you have done already by striking this gentleman when he was making no resistance."
Though he spoke loud, his tone was so quiet, and his words so reasonable, that Lady Danvers entertained no apprehension regarding his conduct or his safety, and, taking one glance over the crowd to a spot where she saw her maid standing on the opposite side of the road, afraid to make her way back to the inn, the lady withdrew into the room to avoid the stones which were flying thicker than was pleasant.
The loud and angry speaking continued for several minutes, and once a stone came into the room where Hortensia was sitting; but no one came near her, for the excitement of the scene without had affected even the people of the inn, and it is probable that neither her own servants nor those of the Duke of Norfolk could force their way up to the door. At length, however, a nimble step was heard upon the stairs, and the head groom, whom she had sent for, appeared with an eager and excited countenance. He doffed his hat as he entered the room, saying at once, "They have taken him away before the magistrates, my lady; but Mistress Alice said you wanted me."
"Who? who?" demanded Lady Danvers; "of whom do you speak?"
"Mr. Ralph, my lady," replied the man. "We would have rescued him with the strong hand, and beaten the constables all to mortar; but he would not let us, and ordered us all to keep the peace. But I had better run up at once with the rest, to see that he is fairly dealt by."
"Ay, do so, do so," cried Hortensia, at first, eagerly; but then immediately she fell into a fit of thought, and as the man was quitting the room, called him back, saying, "Stay, Wilton--Wilton! we may turn this to advantage, perhaps."
The man seemed surprised and confounded, but the lady beckoned him to come nearer, saying, "I have no time for explanations, Master Wilton, but you must do what you can, without endangering Mr. Woodhall's safety or character, to turn this matter so as to keep him here till to-morrow morning. In a word, the Duke of Norfolk sent him here with me to keep him out of the way. There was some quarrel going on between him and another gentleman in the house, and his grace wished for time to arrange it before he returned."
"I understand, my lady, I understand," replied the man, with a shrewd nod of the head. "His grace gave me a little hint, but I did not think of turning this to profit. I'll manage it--I'll manage it;" and away he went at full speed, saying to himself, "My lady does not mind having a handsome young man to sit with her all the evening, I'll warrant, though they do say she has refused scores of great people already. Well, there is no knowing womankind."
He overtook Ralph walking quietly up the street between two constables, who, from an intimation of his strength which they had received, kept at a respectful distance from him. A number of men and boys were following close, with an unnecessary trot; and all the servants of the Duke of Norfolk who had come into the town with the carriage, as well as one or two of Lady Danvers's people, and several women and children, were following at a little distance behind. Wilton made his way through all these, and kept close to Ralph's elbow till the party reached the justice room (which was, in fact, the parlor of an alehouse), and the prisoner was ushered into the presence of the justices, who, booted and spurred, and with their horse-whips in their hands, were just ready to leave the place and ride away. There were three of them present, and two of them looked exceedingly rueful at the prospect of more business. The third, however, rapping out a great oath, cast himself back into his seat again, and laid his horse-whip on the table. "Why, what the devil--" he said; "you look like a gentleman, sir. Curse my buttons, what have they brought you here for?"
"They can best tell you themselves, sir," answered Ralph.
"Don't you go to church? Don't you take the sacrament? Are you a Nonconformist?"
"I go to church and take the sacrament as regularly as most men," replied Ralph; "and Nonconformist I am none, having been brought up in the Church of England from my infancy."
"Pox take you, then," exclaimed the choleric fat justice, addressing the constables, "what did you bring this gentleman here for?"
The charge was then formally made by the two constables, imputing to Ralph the serious offenses of riot and an attempt to rescue their prisoner.
Ralph, in reply, simply told his own story. The constables, he said, had treated an old and respectable-looking man with unjustifiable harshness, irritated apparently by the great crowd which had collected. One of them had even struck him with his staff, upon the pretense of making him go on, although he was offering no resistance.
"That was Doggett, I'll be sworn," said the magistrate, looking round at his two brethren; "I told you all Doggett would get us into a scrape some day."
Doggett, however, was not present, having gone to lodge his prisoner in jail for re-examination; and the magistrate continued, turning to Ralph Woodhall, and saying, "Well, sir, but who are you? What's your station, rank, profession? What do you know of this prisoner who you say was maltreated?"
"I know nothing of him whatever," replied Ralph, "except that he was maltreated, and that I told the man who struck him he exceeded his duty. As to my name, rank, station, et cetera, my name is Ralph Woodhall, a distant relation of a nobleman of that name, without any rank but that of a Master of Arts, without any condition which can particularly designate me but that of being at present a guest of the Duke of Norfolk, and having undertaken, at his request, to escort Lady Danvers on a part of her way to the West."
The magistrates all looked very blank, for the Duke of Norfolk was the great man in those parts; and great men, whether good men or not, obtained much more deference in those days than at present. The business would have probably ended in a dismissal of the charge and a rebuke to the constables; but Master Wilton, who was a shrewd Yorkshireman, from which county the principal grooms in great families were then generally selected, chose his moment well, and, stepping forward, said, "What Master Woodhall says your worships, is quite true, and I can prove it, if I had time to bring forward my witnesses. I am head groom to his grace of Norfolk, who is the dearest friend of this young gentleman. If your worships like to put off the case until I can get the people together who saw it all, I will be 'sponsible that Mr. Ralph will be here at any time you like to-morrow."
The magistrates looked wise; but Ralph exclaimed, with a somewhat sharp gesticulation of impatience, "I would a great deal rather have the case decided at once. I have business which calls me back to Norwich."
"This is a very serious charge, sir," said one of the magistrates who had not yet spoken--an ill-tempered man, rendered cross by having been detained; "recollect, sir, that if we decide against you on a charge of riot and attempt to rescue, we shall have to commit you to prison for trial."
"I have plenty of witnesses, too, if they talk of witnesses," said one of the constables. "I can prove that there was a riot, and that he had a hand in it. I suppose his being a friend of the Duke of Norfolk is no great matter here."
This part of the discussion was the most unpleasant part to Ralph Woodhall. The prospect of being committed to prison if he urged the case forward at that moment was, of course, more unpleasant to him than that of being detained for the whole day; but, nevertheless, he urged, in a few words, that the witnesses might be speedily collected, as they could not be far off, and that the duke expected his return that night.
"That is of no consequence to us, sir," said the chairman of the magistrates, with solemn dignity; "and we can not wait here all the evening collecting witnesses. We must adjourn the hearing till to-morrow morning, and, in the mean time, should be sorry to do any thing harsh, if we could be quite certain that you will be here present at the hour appointed."
"I'll pawn my body and soul, your worship," said Wilton, "that he does not stir out of the town to-night, and if he do, you can come and take me out of the duke's stables, and lose me my wages and my place."
"Will you give your word of honor, sir," asked the magistrate, addressing Ralph, "that you will appear at the hour appointed?"
There seemed no help for it, and Ralph replied, "I will, if the hour be an early one."
"Nine o'clock," replied the magistrate, with a laugh; "we are all early men. I hold you to your word, then; and you too, Master What's-your-name. Clerk, make out the bail-bond for him; we won't be too particular as to the property."
Once more, there was no help for it; and it is good policy in life, as Ralph well knew, to submit patiently to that for which there is no help. The clerk, however, was tediously slow--people always are slow when we want them to be quick, and by the time the whole business was concluded, and the young gentleman had once more issued forth into the air, the clock in the old steeple was striking five.
A little crowd had gathered about the doors of the justice room, and they greeted Ralph when he appeared at liberty with a warm-hearted cheer. He got clear of the people as soon as he could, however, and, followed by the servants of the Duke of Norfolk and Lady Danvers, made his way back to the inn. A day from which he had expected some of those golden moments which are the treasures of the heart, had nearly passed by without affording him one look of her he loved.