Part 16 (2/2)

He took a very ungracious way of teaching the important fact, for he did nothing but boast of the immense superiority of everything appertaining to his glorious self, and depreciate that which belonged to others.

Mr. Tomkins (that was his euphonious t.i.tle) insisted that his gun, his fis.h.i.+ng tackle, his boots, the cut of his coat, and everything that was his, was better than those belonging to any body else. But if there was one object above all others that engrossed his volubility, it was the praise of his horse; daily did he ring the changes on his wonderful animal, his feats, his beauty, blood, and pedigree, at every house where he visited.

One day after dinner at Ystrad Feen, in company with the baronet, Squire Prothero, our hero, and the ladies, he rudely a.s.serted the superiority of his own horse to any in that country, when both our baronet and the squire seemed nettled at his disparaging remarks, which, had he not been his guest, it is probable Sir George would have resented.

He offered to wager fifty pounds that his horse should surpa.s.s the best of theirs in running or leaping, be the given feat what it might. Great and gratifying was their surprise when our hero, with much emphasis cried ”done!” Adding, ”I have a mare of no very splendid exterior that shall perform a feat, with myself on her back, that you and your boasted hunter dare not follow for your lives.”

”Done! for fifty pounds,” cried the London buck; ”I'll back him for a hundred, without knowing what he is at,” exclaimed the baronet; ”And so will I,” roared and laughed the excited Squire Prothero. With unusual alacrity up rose all four, bent on having the bet lost or won instanter.

”Now hasten all together up the hill towards Craig Ddu, and I will be with you in the cracking of a whip,” said Twm, as he hurried off in another direction. The two neighbours looked at each other, and wondered what would be the upshot of this adventure; but, having all faith in Twm, they attended the boastful Londoner to the place appointed.

The summit of Craig Ddu (the Black Rock) was soon reached, where they waited Twm's arrival. The town-bred buck expressed impatience at the delay; adding with great complacency, ”I intend, gentlemen, to teach this youngster a lesson that he will not forget as long as he lives.” ”Ho, ho, ho!” laughed the portly Squire Prothero, ”take care that he does not teach you one!” Scarcely were these words uttered when our hero appeared among them; but what was their dismay, and the sneers of his antagonist, when they beheld him mounted on a sorry old blind mare, scarcely worth a dozen s.h.i.+llings!

”You'll do as I do?” asked our hero, addressing the Londoner, ”or forfeit fifty pounds?” ”That I will, and something more too!” cried the buck, vauntingly, ”in which case the forfeit of that sum will be yours.”

”Agreed!” replied Twm; and gradually facing his animal towards a rising sward or ditch, that had been raised to prevent the cattle from falling over the almost perpendicular side of a deep ravine; ”Now for it then,”

cried he, imitating the sound of a trumpet, and spurring his sorry jade, ”neck or nothing for the fifty pounds!” and at the word the blind mare reached the ditch, and obedient to the spur and rein, sprung over, and was out of sight in an instant.

”Good G.o.d, he has gone to a sure death!” cried Prothero; the stout heart of the baronet (accustomed as he was to such mad freaks,) seemed to have leapt to his throat and choked his utterance, as he expanded his singular white eyes in a chalky stare towards the spot of his disappearance. The party rode forward, and, with the most thrilling anxiety looked down the precipice.

Down at the bottom of the ravine, lay the poor old mare, evidently having concluded a hard life by an equally hard death. But they had no time for sympathy with the unfortunate beast; they were too anxious about its daring rider to waste much consideration on it. Their phrenzied eyes at length rested on the object of their search; scarcely six feet beneath their standing place lay the redoubted son of Catty, sound in wind and limb!

The baronet yelled a terrific _view halloo_ that made the old rocks echo with his dissonance, and the kind-hearted old Prothero was so over-joyed at his safety that he actually failed to laugh. Our hero, who had dexterously thrown himself off at the critical instant that the mare sprung over, and fell, as he had calculated, on a projecting ledge, which was thickly covered with a ma.s.s of heath and long gra.s.s; so that, although rather stunned, he was but little hurt. An instant's delay in throwing himself off would have precipitated him to the bottom, and the fate of the poor mare would have been his own.

Great was the delight of his friends to see him rise, and wave a handkerchief in token of his safety, and in a few minutes he stood before his disconcerted antagonist, who had calculated, from the appearance of the ground, that a race was the thing in contemplation; but when the feat here narrated took place, the pallid hue of his countenance evinced his inward feelings. ”Now, sir, it is your turn,” cried our hero, bowing courteously to Mr. Tomkins, who looked paler and paler as he peered down the declivity; and as his eye for a moment rested on the dead mare in the bottom, his teeth chattered, and he turned away shuddering.

”I have no notion of such mad doings,” muttered the crest-fallen Mr.

Tomkins. ”Then you lose the bet,” cried Prothero; ”which I can afford to pay, as well as any one here,” replied the Londoner, in a tone of haughty sulkiness, as he witnessed the applause bestowed on our hero by the admiring baronet and his friend the squire.

Mr. Tomkins rightly arguing that he had lost caste by this little transaction, had sense enough to leave the district and take his departure for town, dispensing with the ceremony of bidding farewell to any of those country friends, of whose hospitality he had so often partaken.

CHAPTER XXV.

THE Land of Dreams. Twm's journey to London. A bet upon a bull. Ready Rosser outwitted, and Squire Prothero's fright.

When Twm had any leisure or reflection, his mind was occupied with but one subject, so that at this period of his life he could hardly be said to be a man of many ideas. This remark applies only to the time when he indulged in retired country rambles, or when he was in the solitude of his own apartment. Confront him with any specimen of male humanity extant, and his faculties returned in all their natural vigour, and success generally attended his enterprises.

As before related, the moment he first set his eyes on the remarkable and pleasing countenance of the lady of Ystrad Feen, he felt a conviction that it was not the first time that he experienced the pleasurable sensation that then pervaded his whole soul. His continued intercourse with her during his prolonged stay stubbornly maintained his first conviction that they had met before; but when, where, and under what circ.u.mstances, he could not discover. At length, when the mind had been repeatedly fatigued with these vain tuggings at the nerve of memory, although compelled by exhaustion to give up the point, it was only for a season, to be resumed on the first opportunity for putting his powers of recollection again into practice.

After a.n.a.lyzing these mental enquiries with the closest precision, he came to the successive negative conclusions, that he could not possibly have seen her either at Gras.p.a.cre Hall, at Inco Evan's, nor, most a.s.suredly, at the cottage of his mother. ”Then, where on earth else?”

muttered he, wiping his moist brow, which was a little fevered by the intensity of his labours in this mental research. Determined, for his future ease, to dismiss the thought altogether, he answered himself peevishly, ”nowhere, surely, but in the land of _dreams_.”

Yes, indeed, this chance thought provided him with the key so long sought, to his remembrance of the face and form of his charming hostess, for scarcely had he uttered those talismanic words than they acted on his memory like Ithuriel's spear;-the sentence fell like a flash of fire on the touch-spring of the whole mystery, and flashed in full effulgence, illuminating fully his long-darkened powers of recollection!

Little had he thought of putting to himself what appeared so vain a query, whether it was at Morris Greeg's home of misery that he had beheld the never-to-be-forgotten face of beauty and intellect-but at length he traced it! And, of all places in the world, the most unfitting to be a.s.sociated with it-the murky hay-loft of Cwm y Wern Ddu: in short mysterious still as the inference gave out, Lady Devereaux, in every glance, feature, and movement, was indeed the spirit of his glorious vision-the lady of his dream!

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