Part 36 (1/2)

”I think every freeborn man has a right to sit as he pleases in his own house,” resumed the traveller, with warmth; ”and an inn is his own house, I guess, so long as he pays his score. Betty, my dear.”

For the chambermaid had now replied to the bell. ”I han't Betty, sir; do you want she?”

”No, Sally; cold brandy and water--and a biscuit.”

”I han't Sally, either,” muttered the chambermaid; but the traveller, turning round, showed so smart a neckcloth and so comely a face, that she smiled, coloured, and went her way.

The traveller now rose, and flung down the paper. He took out a penknife, and began paring his nails. Suddenly desisting from this elegant occupation, his eye caught sight of the parson's shovel-hat, which lay on a chair in the corner.

”You're a clergyman, I reckon, sir,” said the traveller, with a slight sneer.

Again Mr. Dale bowed,--bowed in part deprecatingly, in part with dignity. It was a bow that said, ”No offence, sir, but I am a clergyman, and I'm not ashamed of it.”

”Going far?” asked the traveller.

PARSON.--”Not very.”

TRAVELLER.--”In a chaise or fly? If so, and we are going the same way, halves.”

PARSON.--”Halves?”

TRAVELLER.--”Yes, I'll pay half the damage, pikes inclusive.”

PARSON.--”You are very good, sir. But” (spoken with pride) ”I am on horseback.”

TRAVELLER.--”On horseback! Well, I should not have guessed that! You don't look like it. Where did you say you were going?”

”I did not say where I was going, sir,” said the parson, dryly, for he was much offended at that vague and ungrammatical remark applicable to his horsemans.h.i.+p, that ”he did not look like it.”

”Close!” said the traveller, laughing; ”an old traveller, I reckon.”

The parson made no reply, but he took up his shovel-hat, and, with a bow more majestic than the previous one, walked out to see if his pad had finished her corn.

The animal had indeed finished all the corn afforded to her, which was not much, and in a few minutes more Mr. Dale resumed his journey. He had performed about three miles, when the sound of wheels behind him made him turn his head; and he perceived a chaise driven very fast, while out of the windows thereof dangled strangely a pair of human legs. The pad began to curvet as the post-horses rattled behind, and the parson had only an indistinct vision of a human face supplanting those human legs.

The traveller peered out at him as he whirled by,--saw Mr. Dale tossed up and down on the saddle, and cried out, ”How's the leather?”

”Leather!” soliloquized the parson, as the pad recomposed herself, ”what does he mean by that? Leather! a very vulgar man. But I got rid of him cleverly.”

Mr. Dale arrived without further adventure at Lansmere. He put up at the princ.i.p.al inn, refreshed himself by a general ablution, and sat down with good appet.i.te to his beefsteak and pint of port.

The parson was a better judge of the physiognomy of man than that of the horse; and after a satisfactory glance at the civil smirking landlord, who removed the cover and set on the wine, he ventured on an attempt at conversation. ”Is my Lord at the Park?”

LANDLORD (still more civilly than before).--”No, sir, his Lords.h.i.+p and my Lady have gone to town to meet Lord L'Estrange!”

”Lord L'Estrange! He is in England, then?”

”Why, so I heard,” replied the landlord, ”but we never see him here now.

I remember him a very pretty young man. Every one was fond of him and proud of him. But what pranks be did play when he was a lad! We hoped he would come in for our boro' some of these days, but he has taken to foren parts,--more 's the pity. I am a reg'lar Blue, sir, as I ought to be. The Blue candidate always does me the honour to come to the Lansmere Arms. 'T is only the low party puts up with the Boar,” added the landlord, with a look of ineffable disgust. ”I hope you like the wine, sir?”

”Very good, and seems old.”