Part 67 (1/2)

”I will not,” said Luke, eagerly grasping the certificate; ”but she never may be mine.”

”You have her oath?”

”I have.”

”What more is needed?”

”Her hand.”

”That will follow.”

”It _shall_ follow,” replied Sir Luke, wildly. ”You are right. She is my affianced bride--affianced before h.e.l.l, if not before heaven. I have sealed the contract with blood--with Sybil's blood--and it shall be fulfilled. I have her oath--her oath--ha, ha! Though I perish in the attempt, I will wrest her from Ranulph's grasp. She shall never be his.

I would stab her first. Twice have I failed in my endeavors to bear her off. I am from Rookwood even now. To-morrow night I shall renew the attack. Will you a.s.sist me?”

”To-morrow night!” interrupted d.i.c.k.

”Nay, I should say to-night. A new day has already dawned,” replied Luke.

”I will: she is at Rookwood?”

”She languishes there at present, attended by her mother and her lover.

The hall is watched and guarded. Ranulph is ever on the alert. But we will storm their garrison. I have a spy within its walls--a gipsy girl, faithful to my interests. From her I have learnt that there is a plot to wed Eleanor to Ranulph, and that the marriage is to take place privately to-morrow. This must be prevented.”

”It must. But why not boldly appear in person at the hall, and claim her?”

”Why not? I am a proscribed felon. A price is set upon my head. I am hunted through the country--driven to concealment, and dare not show myself for fear of capture. What could I do now? They would load me with fetters, bury me in a dungeon, and wed Eleanor to Ranulph. What would my rights avail? What would her oath signify to them? No; she must be mine by force. _His_ she shall never be. Again, I ask you, will you aid me?”

”I have said--I will. Where is Alan Rookwood?”

”Concealed within the hut on Thorne Waste. You know it--it was one of your haunts.”

”I know it well,” said d.i.c.k, ”and Conkey Jem, its keeper, into the bargain: he is a knowing file. I'll join you at the hut at midnight, if all goes well. We'll bring off the wench, in spite of them all--just the thing I like. But in case of a break-down on my part, suppose you take charge of my purse in the mean time.”

Luke would have declined this offer.

”Pshaw!” said d.i.c.k. ”Who knows what may happen? and it's not ill-lined either. You'll find an odd hundred or so in that silken bag--it's not often your highwayman gives away a purse. Take it, man--we'll settle all to-night; and if I don't come, keep it--it will help you to your bride.

And now off with you to the hut, for you are only hindering me. Adieu!

My love to old Alan. We'll do the trick to-night. Away with you to the hut. Keep yourself snug there till midnight, and we'll ride over to Rookwood.”

”At midnight,” replied Sir Luke, wheeling off, ”I shall expect you.”

”'Ware hawks!” hallooed d.i.c.k.

But Luke had vanished. In another instant d.i.c.k was scouring the plain as rapidly as ever. In the mean time, as d.i.c.k has casually alluded to the hawks, it may not be amiss to inquire how they had flown throughout the night, and whether they were still in chase of their quarry.

With the exception of t.i.tus, who was completely done up at Grantham, ”having got,” as he said, ”a complete bellyful of it,” they were still on the wing, and resolved sooner or later to pounce upon their prey, pursuing the same system as heretofore in regard to the post-horses.

Major Mowbray and Paterson took the lead, but the irascible and invincible attorney was not far in their rear, his wrath having been by no means allayed by the fatigue he had undergone. At Bawtrey they held a council of war for a few minutes, being doubtful which course he had taken. Their incert.i.tude was relieved by a foot traveller, who had heard d.i.c.k's loud halloo on pa.s.sing the boundary of Nottinghams.h.i.+re, and had seen him take the lower road. They struck, therefore, into the path at Thorne at a hazard, and were soon satisfied they were right. Furiously did they now spur on. They reached Selby, changed horses at the inn in front of the venerable cathedral church, and learnt from the postboy that a toilworn horseman, on a jaded steed, had ridden through the town about five minutes before them, and could not be more than a quarter of a mile in advance. ”His horse was so dead beat,” said the lad, ”that I'm sure he cannot have got far; and, if you look sharp, I'll be bound you'll overtake him before he reaches Cawood Ferry.”