Part 21 (1/2)
But Hairblower was completely in the dark still as to the ”where” and the ”when” of the intended burglary. He could not therefore warn the inmates, nor had he time to inform the police. He could but watch the plotters, lie still, and listen. Little thought Tom Blacke, when he looked outside the door and peeped through the red-curtained window, as he imagined to make all safe, that the avenger in the shape of his old sailor friend was within five yards of him; little thought Mr.
Fibbes, in his acoustic speculations about ”Hecho,” that in this instance hers was a substantial frame d.o.g.g.i.ng his every footstep, a strong heavy arm ready and willing to strike him to the earth. They thought they were secure at least of all _outside_ the house, and they took their measures accordingly.
But honest Hairblower enjoyed one of those enviable organisations to which fear seems positively unknown, and when he reflected that, in his ignorance of where they were bound and when their plot was to be ripe, his only chance was never to let the ruffians out of his sight till he could place them in safe custody, it seemed to him the most natural thing in the world, alone and unarmed, to dog the footsteps of two desperate men, one of whom was an acknowledged murderer. He followed them accordingly from the house; he waited on the opposite side of the street whilst they got their implements from Tom's lodgings; he arrived at the station twenty yards behind them, stole up and heard them take tickets to ”Newton,” took a similar one himself, and sat down in the very next carriage to them, with the collar of his pea-jacket pulled high over his face, and a guard placed upon his lips, lest his old acquaintance should by any means overhear and recognise his voice. As he journeyed down, he thought over every possible plan by which he could frustrate the robbery. If he gave them into custody with the railway people, he could prove nothing; they were two to one; they would not hesitate to swear black was white, and they might easily turn the tables upon him, and perhaps succeed in transferring him to durance vile instead of themselves. If he asked for a.s.sistance from a fellow-pa.s.senger (and there was one stout-made countryman in whom Hairblower was sorely tempted to confide) he would probably not be believed, or at any rate the explanation and consequent watching would be very likely to place the ruffians on their guard. No, he would do it all himself. He could rely on his own stout heart and powerful frame; he would hunt them to the world's end.
At Newton station great caution was necessary. He remained in the train till they had left the platform, then nimbly jumped out as it was on the point of starting, and delivering up his ticket, got clear of the building in time to distinguish their footsteps stealing up the lane not fifty yards ahead of him. This distance he cautiously diminished. Like most sailors, he could see pretty well in the dark, and was used to going barefoot, so taking his shoes off once more, he had no difficulty in keeping within earshot of the chase. At last they reached the house; Hairblower no more knew whose it was than the man in the moon; but he had determined, as soon as they were all safe inside, to make a dash at Tom Blacke, knock him senseless, close with Fibbes, and alarm the inmates; thus, he thought, they will be taken in the fact. Had he known his dear Miss Blanche was in jeopardy, perhaps he might not have been so cool. Fortunately, sailors are so used to every sort of difficulty that it is next to impossible to put one wrong, and Hairblower managed to creep through the scullery window nearly as deftly as either of the professionals, with whom proficiency in such exercises is a necessary part of their trade. Whilst they robbed the butler's pantry he stood behind the door; but the moment, he thought, had not yet arrived. In that small room, he calculated, he had hardly s.p.a.ce to ”tackle” with them properly, and with admirable coolness waited a better opportunity, and followed them up-stairs. As they entered the drawing-room he was close upon them; and had it not been that he was as much startled as Fibbes himself at the apparition of ”Miss Blanche,” his arm would have been raised an instant sooner, and might perhaps have saved that young lady a fainting-fit, as it did save her life. As he turned to seize Tom Blacke he beheld him in the grasp of Mr. Hardingstone, and then Hairblower felt indeed that he could have encountered a host; but by this time the house was alarmed, and further violence unnecessary.
Now, although we are aware that it is not customary for well-nurtured damsels to sit with lighted candles in drawing-rooms at an hour when the rest of the family have retired to rest, yet allowances must be made for such as have the misfortune to be in love. This was Blanche's case, and being unable to sleep, she wisely slipped on her dressing-gown, and stole down-stairs for the purpose of getting the last new novel, then lying on the drawing-room table, and administering it as the never-failing soporific. When there, she found the room so much more comfortable than her own, that she lit the candles and sat quietly down to read, till disturbed by what she thought at the moment a frightful apparition. Her delight at recognising Hairblower when she came to her senses was only equalled by the enthusiasm of that formidable auxiliary himself, who with difficulty refrained from embracing her on the spot, a mode of wors.h.i.+p in which Frank Hardingstone would willingly have joined. That gentleman, we have reason to think, was in love too; at least, on the night in question he was restless and fidgety, and courted slumber in vain. Then he heard a door open, and got up and put on a few clothes, and then he fancied he distinguished a stealthy footfall in the pa.s.sage below; so he too left his room, and arrived on the scene of action in the nick of time. How the disturbance of that night influenced the destiny of several of the party it is not now necessary to state, nor can we tell what Frank saw, heard, or felt, to induce him the following morning to send to Bubbleton for his horses, and to make such arrangements as argued his intention of protracting his visit at Newton-Hollows during some considerable portion of the hunting-season. We are satisfied, however, although she did not say so, that this arrangement was by no means unwelcome to Blanche Kettering.
CHAPTER XXVII
FLOOD AND FIELD
A FAMILY PARTY--A HUNTING MORNING!--HAND-AND-GLOVE--GONE AWAY!--NEVER MORE--FOLLOW-MY-LEADER
It was the last day of the Old Year, and he seemed to have resolved on making a peaceful ending, such as the thirty-first of December seldom vouchsafes in any climate but our own. Thoroughly English, too, was the party a.s.sembled round the breakfast-table at Newton-Hollows, from the red face of the old butler struggling in with the hissing urn, to the corresponding colour of Frank Hardingstone's coat, betokening that he meant to enjoy our national sport of fox-hunting. Blanche was already down, looking charming in a riding-habit, as all pretty women do; and Mary's quiet face showed more animation than usual, perhaps in consequence of an arrangement which was broached, apparently not for the first time.
”I am _so_ glad we persuaded him not to ride,” observed Blanche, appealing as usual to Mr. Hardingstone; ”he will _not_ take care of that cough--men are such bad patients! Now with Mary to drive him in the pony-carriage, he can keep himself well wrapped up, and the air will do him good.”
”Undoubtedly,” replied Frank, ”Mrs. Delaval must take good care of her patient” (Mary looked as if she _rather_ thought she would); ”and I shall be completely at your service, Miss Kettering; you know I am _not_ an enthusiast about hunting, like Charlie.”
”Oh, I shall do very well with old Thomas and Uncle Baldwin, if he can only keep up with me,” replied Blanche; ”so I won't ask you to stay with _me_.”
Frank seemed to think this would be no great sacrifice; but, as she spoke, the subject of their conversation entered the breakfast-room, and took his place as usual at Mrs. Delaval's side. Poor Charlie! he looked thinner than ever, and the cough, though not so violent, was every day more and more frequent. To be sure his eye was bright, and his colour at times brilliant; everybody seemed to think he was better, save the Bubbleton doctors, and they never would give an opinion one way or the other.
”So Haphazard is to be disappointed of his gallop again,” complained Charlie, as he stretched his wasted hand for his tea-cup. ”I have had quite enough of being nursed, Blanche, even by you. I really think I might ride him, just to see them find. I could get off if I felt tired, you know.”
”Get off when the hounds are running!” replied Blanche, ”not you. Now be a good boy just this once, Charlie. Mary has promised to drive you in my pony-carriage with Scrub: she says you shall see everything if you'll only trust yourself with her; and n.o.body will take such care of you as Mary, I know,” added she, rather mischievously. Charlie made no further objections, and Mrs. Delaval kept her eyes immovably fixed on the pattern of her tea-cup.
”Late, of course--servants always are late, except for dinner.
Charlie, my boy, how are ye this morning? You've got no breakfast.
Zounds! why is everything cold? Blanche, my sweet girl, ring all the bells, and kick that old fool into next week, if he don't bring hot mutton-chops instanter. I can't stay a moment. I must be off to Snaffles, or he'll make some cursed mistake. It's very singular that n.o.body ever understands my directions,” said the General, bustling into the room in a state of more than usual ferment, as is generally the case with occasional sportsmen on a hunting-morning. The General had been up since daybreak, but had not yet succeeded in s.n.a.t.c.hing a quiet five minutes for his own breakfast; and even now, as he fussed about in a short green coat and high Napoleon boots, it seemed doubtful whether he would settle down to his meal, or be off on another visit to the stables, for the further confusion of the unfortunate Snaffles. Hunger carried it for the moment, but the trampling of hoofs and grinding of wheels on the sweep at the front-door soon drew our party to the window, from which Blanche's eyes were delighted by the appearance of her favourite Water King, his fine coat glistening in the morning sun, his long thin tail whisking about as usual, and his rounded form seen in all its beauty under the unmounted side-saddle. ”Isn't he a darling?” exclaimed Blanche from the window, as the horse stepped proudly round to the door, pointing his small ears and glancing in every direction as though looking for his mistress. Old Thomas on a steady brown; Frank's two hunters, well-bred, weight-carrying animals; the General's black cob, and the little pony-carriage, completed the cavalcade, which was at length got into marching order, not without much difficulty and the issue of several contradictory orders from Uncle Baldwin, who, what with his anxiety about Blanche's mounting and his care that Charlie should be properly wrapped up, to say nothing of his directions to every one concerning that undiscoverable pa.s.sage, ”the shortest way,” was already in a white heat, and altogether in a state quite the reverse of what we should suppose antic.i.p.atory of a day's _pleasure_.
However, Blanche was in the saddle at last, and pacing quietly on with Frank by her side. The General, too, was mounted, but by no means as yet under way--so much had to be impressed on the butler in case of the Field stopping to luncheon; so much on Snaffles, who remained at home, about sundry brood mares in the paddocks, all in an interesting situation; so much on the keepers, who neglected the earth-stopping generally; and so _very_ much on the bailiff, who invariably appeared at the last moment, that had it not been for the determination evinced by the black cob, his master would have remained at the front-door till dinner-time; that animal, however, a resolute Roman-nosed conveyance, seeing his stable companions rapidly deserting him, and rejoicing moreover in a stiff neck and perfectly callous mouth, made no more ado, but took the bit between his teeth, and lowering his head to the well-known angle of insubordination, rushed doggedly to the front, bearing the General rapidly past the pony-carriage in a manner more ludicrous than dignified. Charlie was in fits. Even quiet Mrs.
Delaval laughed outright; and this simple incident, perhaps, made their drive far more lively--we will not say more agreeable--than it would otherwise have been, inasmuch as they had started in solemn silence; and, like all couples who feel that they are more to each other than either dares to confess, they might have remained unwillingly mute during the precious hours, from sheer inability to talk upon any topic but one, and a nervous dread of entering on that one lest an explanation should at once dispel the dream that had been the happiness of their lives. Now, however, they chatted gaily enough; and certainly if ever there was a situation calculated to raise the spirits of mortals, it was that in which our young lancer and his lady-love found themselves, on their way to Crop Hill, that thirty-first of December--a drive never afterwards to be effaced from the memory of the gentle charioteer. It was one of those beautiful balmy mornings that (when we get them) make an English winter more delightful than that of any other country in the world. It can only be described by the expression which it brought to every one's lips, ”What a hunting morning!” There had been heavy rain in the night, and the freshened pastures seemed actually to smile in the sun, as ever and anon he shone out with chastened beams over copse and meadow and upland; the very hedges, leafless though they were, seemed to breathe the fragrance of spring; mid-winter as it was, Nature seemed to be not dead, but sweetly sleeping; the robin hopped merrily from twig to twig; the magpie jerked and chattered, and flew before the pony-carriage, lighting now on this side of the lane, now on that, now disturbing its mate, now soaring away over the high thick hedge towards the distant wood. As they emerged into a line of fair open pastures from which their view, unchecked by fence on either side, swept over a rich green vale, dotted with cattle and clothed with hedge-row trees, they caught sight of their mounted friends cantering merrily along the gra.s.s ahead of them, Blanche's habit fluttering in the soft, light breeze, her cavalier's red coat and s.h.i.+ning stirrup-irons glistening in the sun, and the General b.u.mping steadily behind them on the high-stepping black cob, who, albeit usually an animal of imperturbable sobriety, had contracted a fatal pa.s.sion for the chase, which on occasions like the present put him into a state of rebellious excitement that lasted throughout the day, and produced a sad reaction in the stable on the morrow.
”That's the best fellow in England,” said Charlie, as he pointed out his friend to his companion. ”I shall be glad when it's settled, Mrs.
Delaval, as _I_ know it soon will be.” Mary thought they were on tender ground, and applied herself diligently to her driving without producing any great increase of pace on the part of philosophical Scrub. ”Ah!” said Charlie, and his voice trembled as he spoke, ”I've envied Frank all my life, and I envy him more than ever now.”
”You _do_?” replied Mary, glancing quickly at him, while her heart for the moment seemed to stand still.
”Not his bride, Mrs. Delaval,” replied Charlie, ”for his bride you'll see she will be. No, no; I'm very fond of Blanche, but not in that way.” Mary was blus.h.i.+ng crimson, and it was surprising what a deal of driving that little pony required as Charlie proceeded. ”But I envy him all he has that I can never have again--health, strength, all that makes life enjoyable--all that was once mine, but that I feel I have now lost for ever.”
”Don't say so,” replied Mary, though her rising tears almost choked her utterance, ”don't say so. With care and good advice, and all of _us_ to nurse you, oh, you must, you _shall_ get well;” but even as she spoke she felt a sad foreboding at her heart. Charlie caught her glance, though it was almost instantly averted, and he proceeded as if half to himself--
”I could bear it well enough if I was like Frank in one respect, if I knew my life was bound to another's, and that other the one I cared most for in the world. I could struggle on for _her_ sake; but no, I shall leave none such behind _me_, and perhaps it is better.”
”Do you think we are so heartless?” she burst forth; ”do you think we can part with you without a murmur? With _you_, for whom we have watched and prayed and longed all those dreary months; dreary indeed whilst you were----” Mary stopped short. She felt she had said too much, but it was Charlie's turn to blush now. His breath came quick and short; the boy dared not look the woman in the face, but he put his hand into his bosom and drew out a glove--a white kid glove it was formerly, now sadly soiled and discoloured, for a gallant heart had been beating against it many a long month--but with a rim of velvet round the wrist; there was no doubt of its ident.i.ty, nor of the fair hand it once had fitted. Charlie drew it out and pressed it to his lips. She turned on him one swimming glance. They understood each other; the moment had at length arrived when--
”_Gently_, Ravager! back, hounds, back!”--and the loud crack of a hunting-whip disturbed their romantic _tete-a-tete_ at this critical moment, and announced the proximity of that well-known pack denominated the Hark-holloa Hounds, trotting gently on towards the place of meeting, and rapidly overtaking the pony-carriage and its pre-occupied inmates. The n.o.ble impulse of equine emulation, usually dormant in the s.h.a.ggy form of Scrub, was now aroused by the inspiring influence of the pa.s.sing pageant, and the clean, dainty-looking, motley-coloured pack; the neat, well-appointed servants in their bright scarlet coats and glossy velvet caps; the well-bred, well-groomed, hunting-looking horses they bestrode stepping airily along, jingling their bits, and snorting to the morning breeze. All these objects raised the mettle of Blanche's quiet pony, and Mary had now enough to do in earnest, as he tugged at the reins and drew them rapidly on in rear of the pack towards a slight elevation in the distance crowned by a windmill, and rejoicing in the dignified t.i.tle of Crop Hill. A renewal of the tender subject was impossible, for as they neared the trysting-place the plot thickened rapidly, and sportsman after sportsman cantering by on his covert-hack had a bow for Mrs. Delaval, and a word to exchange with Charlie; now congratulating him on his return, now condoling with him for his inability to ride, now cordially hoping that he will soon be in the saddle, with an inquiry after the welfare of the celebrated Haphazard.