Part 11 (1/2)
Another circ.u.mstance of note happened at this supper, which, as it relates to our hero, must be told. It seems that during Twm's disgrace, and consequent absence from the hall, the servants there indulged themselves in making remarks on his conduct, and its probable consequence. This discussion displayed their various dispositions. Some spoke of him with charity, and dwelt upon his rare qualities of good nature and cheerfulness; while others took a malignant pleasure in speaking of his satirical and mischievous propensities. Among the latter was the cook. Twm, on his return, heard of her _kindness_, and determined to take the first opportunity of showing his sense of the obligations she had laid him under. On the removal of the remains of the duck and its accompaniments, the company having just been helped round with tart or pie, their attention was suddenly arrested by the voice of Twm in the pa.s.sage, who loudly sung the following distich:-
”Apple pie is very rich, And so is venison pasty; But then our cook has got the itch, And that is very nasty.”
Ye G.o.ds! what sounds for ears polite! The young ladies laughed immoderately on perceiving the distress of their aunt, who showed a wry-faced consciousness of having partaken food prepared by unclean hands; her countenance underwent various contortions, and she mentally thought of the old proverb about the obligatory rule set down upon each member of humanity, that we must all eat a peck of dirt in our lifetime, but she devoutly hoped that all her share was not to be eaten at one meal. Those awful thoughts had a tragic ending, for they terminated in the grand climax of a shriek and a fit. The squire's anger was instantly kindled against Twm, probably from an unquenched spark of his former resentment, which he evinced by telling his son to ”give that rascal a good thras.h.i.+ng.”
Proud of his commission, out ran Marmaduke; and finding Twm in the hall, ran up and struck him a blow in the face; but great was the amazement of the servants to see the young man turn upon him like a lion, and with the most dexterous management of his fists overpowering their young master in an instant, whom he left groaning with pain, and covered with bruises, and then made a precipitate retreat.
While walking to Tregaron, it occurred to Twm, that for that night at least, he should be favoured with a lodging by his constant friend, Rhys, the curate. Thither he went, and found the worthy man by the parlour fire, with a book in his hand, and papers before him, busily employed in preparing for the press a new edition of his Welsh Grammar. He was received by him with his usual kindness; and when Twm told him his tale, with the important addition that he must leave his native place for ever, and that immediately, he showed the goodness of his heart by a.s.suring him of a retreat for the present, and a little pecuniary aid on his departure. He however gave him a friendly lecture on the impropriety of his conduct; observing that if he must be satirical, he ought to choose the subject for his lash from the famous among the great and wealthy, and not the puny and defenceless, to attack whom, he said, evinced a paltry and most dastardly spirit; concluding with the pithy injunction, ”while you live, whatever your state while on earth, act the generous and manly part; and never, never, either manually, or with the lash of satire, war with the weak.”
These words formed in a great measure the leading rule in Twm's after life. He never forgot them, and all the more because they came from the lips of one whom he revered and loved; and however reprehensible the after vagaries of Twm's life may have been, their harsher features were considerably modified by the remembrance of the words, ”War not against the weak!” Our hero was heartily pleased with his preceptor, inasmuch, that amidst all his observations and lectures he imputed to him but slight blame for his retaliation on young Gras.p.a.cre; but when he vowed further vengeance, should he ever meet him alone in the mountains remonstrated with him on the risk he ran, urged the necessity of self-preservation, and advised him not to endanger himself needlessly.
The next morning Rhys a.s.sured Twm that he had reflected on the peculiarity of his case, and found it by no means so bad as he had imagined. ”As to leaving this place,” said he, ”I see no necessity; merely keep out of the way awhile, and in due time make your submissions to the squire; as he is by no means a hard man, I have no doubt but all will speedily be well again.” Twm adopted this idea, though he ill-stomached the thought of submission, or of asking pardon for an act of manliness which he would on a similar case of aggravation repeat.
Thus matters rested for the present; and in the dusk of the evening he crossed the hills towards Cadwgan's, and soon had the grateful satisfaction of seeing once more his beauteous mistress, sitting by her father before a cheerful fire. Her mild kind face was unusually pale, but brightened on his approach; and when he related his new mishap, and that he thought of immediately quitting the country in consequence, her cheek a.s.sumed an ashy paleness, and she nearly fainted in her father's arms. Cadwgan dissuaded him from the thought of quitting his native place for such a trifle, and advised him by all means to follow up the worthy curate's suggestion; and when the fair Gwenny repeated her father's wishes as her own, Twm at once acquiesced, and resolved not to quit.
Thus time pa.s.sed on pleasantly, for some days, when our hero said he longed exceedingly for a day's coursing on the neighbouring mountains.
Cadwgan remarked that the squire had shown no desire to pursue him, as he had heard at Tregaron and he conceived there would be no danger; and so in accordance with his opinion, he lent him his dog and gun, both great favourites, and never before entrusted to any one breathing. He advised him to confine his excursion to a certain remote hill called Twyn Du (_Black Hill_) which being rugged of ascent and marshy, seldom invited the steps of the sons of pleasure in the character of sportsmen.
Thus with dog and gun, and accoutred with a shot-belt, our hero felt himself another and superior being to what he had ever been before, especially as Gwenny a.s.sured him that the sportsman's paraphernalia became him exceedingly. He shook Cadwgan's hand, kissed the lips of his fair mistress, and gallantly sallied forth. Having gone a few yards, he turned his face back to a.s.sure them, that he should return and well loaded with game.
Twm enjoyed himself thoroughly. There was a complete sense of freedom and independence in his sport which more than pleased him; with light heart, cool head, and steady aim, he brought down bird after bird, filling his bag, and carolling old Welsh airs the while. He had been on Twyn Du about an hour and a half, and in that time had killed several birds, when the report of his gun attracted others to the spot. He could hear several persons on the hill contiguous, and saw one well mounted, descending into the deep dingle that, like a gulf, yawned between the two hills, and making his way up the steep side of Twyn Du.
He now felt a presentiment that this visit portended him no good; but scorning an ignominious flight, he carelessly paced the brow of the hill till the sportsman approached, when, to his great amazement, who should present himself before him but his inveterate foe, Marmaduke Gras.p.a.cre.
He approached Twm with the fury of a demoniac, asking how he dared fire a gun on those grounds, and after a few harsh words of abuse, which our hero returned with interest, he took an aim at Cadwgan's pointer, and instantly shot him on the spot.
This butcherly, cowardly act, aroused the indignation of our hero. He felt his Welsh blood course madly through his veins. The thought too, that this was Cadwgan's dog, his favourite pointer, the animal petted and nursed by his own sweet Gwenny, drove Twm furious, and he was further aggravated by the young squire demanding his gun, and laughing the while at his distress and rage. The youth was not formed of stuff so tame as to endure his insolent triumph. s.n.a.t.c.hing up his loaded gun with desperate rapidity, he in a moment lodged the contents in the head of the squire's fine hunter, on which his enemy sat taunting him. No sooner had Marmaduke reached the ground, disengaged himself from his fallen horse, and stood up, than Twm flew at him, and disregarding his threats, with his dexterous fists inflicted the most perfect chastis.e.m.e.nt; leaving him in a far worse predicament than after their first encounter.
By this time the men who attended the young squire, hearing the report of the guns, and fearing that their young master had fallen in with poachers, made best of their way down across the dingle, and up the sides of Twyn Du.
Roused by their shouts, Twm left his vanquished foe groaning on the ground by the side of the dead hunter, and darting down the opposite side he made a safe retreat. This was an adventure which const.i.tuted the turning point of our hero's life. The magnitude of the consequences it involved, he scarcely dreamt of at that moment.
CHAPTER XVIII.
TWM is ”wanted.” Hides himself in a wood. Love takes him to Cadwgan's house, where he is welcomed. Parson Evans acting as ”detector.” Twm escapes in the disguise of a female. Affectionate parting with the farmer and Gwenny.
No sooner was Marmaduke Gras.p.a.cre taken home, and the affair made known by him to his father, with some little exaggeration against the a.s.sailant, such as the trifling mis-statement that the blows inflicted on him were by the b.u.t.t-end of the fowling-piece, instead of the fist, than the squire's indignation was roused.
”As this is not the first offence, and my forbearance has encouraged his atrocious conduct, I am now determined to make an example of him,” said he, and immediately sent a servant for Parson Evans, who, in the capacity of magistrate, was ordered to take cognizance of the affair, and send constables in all directions to arrest the culprit. This was an office that well accorded with this malignant man; he had not the generosity enough to forget and forgive the follies of youth; and had a bloodhound been set upon Twm's track, he would not have scented him out with more pleasure than Parson Evans.
The hue and cry instantly was raised and spread abroad, and excited as great a commotion throughout the country as if a convicted murderer were chased through the land. All Twm's haunts were searched, especially his mother's and farmer Cadwgan's; in each of which places there was heaviness and wailing for his misfortunes; and Parson Evans, who went there in person, took care to a.s.sure them, that when caught, all the world could not save him from the gallows, as he had attempted to murder the young squire of Gras.p.a.cre-Hall.
But with all the vigilance of his enemies, Twm's retreat remained undiscovered and those who were friendly disposed towards him began to wonder among themselves what had become of him. Some thought that, in a fit of despondency, he had drowned himself; and others, that he had escaped into the neighbouring counties of Pembroke, Carmarthen, or Brecon; or that he had s.h.i.+pped himself in some vessel at Aberayon, or Aberystwyth, and got off in safety. The constables, however, had visited each of these places, and at length returned without any further intelligence than that their journey had been in vain.
While the search was most hot, our hero concealed himself in a small patch of marshy underwood, a spot on which the keen eye of suspicion never glanced, his pursuers having pa.s.sed the edge of it many times without a thought occurring of seeking him there. In this retreat he fed himself on nuts and blackberries, and in the night roved about for recreation, but returned to his green-wood shelter before day-light.
Even here, Twm's love of mischief was as prominent as ever.
One night, while the moon gave a good light, he found a large deep hole, close by his retreat. Knowing that his pursuers would very probably pa.s.s that way shortly, he covered over the opening with sticks and a thin layer of earth and leaves. Presently came Parson Evans, who had separated himself from the rest of the searchers, and coming to the trap, immediately sunk over-head, to the depth of twelve feet, giving a wild and very unparsonic yell as he descended. He bawled loudly for help, but Twm bounded from his retreat, and shouting down the hole, ”Ha! ha! Evans the fox is trapped at last,” made best of his way to another part of the forest.