Part 29 (2/2)

”And you've been worrying me, and tiring my patience all this time, merely to secure yourself a better bargain? Oh, the needless trouble people give themselves in this world! Shoe the horse, man, and make your own charge; be sure I'll not complain of it, only be quick,” replied Oaklands.

”P'r'aps that worn't all,” returned the fellow gruffly; ”but if ye be in such a mighty hurry, bring 'un along here, and I'll clap a shoe on 'un for ye in a twinkling.”

So saying, he led the way through an old gate, and down a stable-yard behind the public-house, at the bottom of which, under a kind of half-barn, half-shed, was a blacksmith's shop, fitted up with a forge and other appliances for shoeing. Our conductor (who having divested himself of the velveteen jacket, which he replaced with a leather ap.r.o.n, seemed now much more in his proper element) displayed greater quickness and skill in making and applying the shoe, than from his previous conduct I should have antic.i.p.ated; and I began to flatter myself that our difficulties were in a fair way to be overcome.

I was drawing up the girths of my horse's saddle, which had become somewhat loosened from our gallop, when Oaklands, who had been sitting on a gate near, industriously flogging his boot with his riding-whip, jumped down, saying, ”If you'll keep an eye to the horses, Prank, I'll go and see if I can get some of the worst of this mud brushed off”.

”Better stay where you are! I shall a done direc'ly,” observed the smith; ”you ain't wanted at ther house, I tell yer.”

”You should stick to your original trade, for your manners as an innkeeper are certainly not calculated to fascinate customers, my friend,” replied Oaklands, walking towards the house.

The man muttered an oath as he looked after him, and then applied himself to his work with redoubled energy. Above ten minutes had elapsed, the shoe was made, -189--fitted to the hoof, and the process of nailing on nearly concluded, but still Oaklands did not return. I was tying my horse's rein up to a hook in the wall, with the intention of seeking him, when I heard the noise of wheels in the lane, followed immediately by the clatter of a horse's feet, ridden at speed--both sounds at the moment ceased, as if the parties had stopped at the inn-door. The blacksmith also heard them, and appeared for a moment uncertain whether to continue his work or not; then, uttering an impatient exclamation, he began twisting off and clenching the points of the nails as though his life depended on his haste. Perceiving that Oaklands' horse would be ready for him to mount directly, I turned to unfasten my own, when the sound of men's voices raised high in angry debate became audible; then a confused noise as of blows and scuffling ensued, mingled with the screams of women; and immediately the blacksmith's wife ran out, calling to her husband to hasten in, for that ”_they_ had come back and quarrelled with the strange gentleman, and now they were fighting, and there would be murder done in the house”.

Without waiting to hear more I ran hastily up the yard, followed by the blacksmith and the woman. On reaching the front of the house I perceived, waiting at the door, a gig, in which was seated a man, dressed in a suit of rusty black, while under the shade of the trees a boy was loading up and down a magnificent black mare, which I instantly recognised as the identical animal Wilford had become possessed of in the manner Archer had related to me. The sounds of blows and struggling still continued, and proceeded, as I now ascertained, from the parlour of the ale-house. As the readiest method of reaching the scene of action, I flung open the window, which was not far from the ground, and without a moment's hesitation leaped into the room.

CHAPTER XXIV -- HOW OAKLANDS BROKE HIS HORSEWHIP

-190--

”Away to heav'n, respective lenity, And fire-eyed fury be my conduct now.”

”Use every man after his desert, and who should 'scape whipping?”

”He swore that he did hold me dear As precious eyesight, and did value me Above this world, adding thereto moreover That he would wed me.”

”Men's vows are women's traitors.”

”To promise is most courtly and fas.h.i.+onable; performance is a kind of will or testament which argues a great sickness in his judgment that makes it.”

--Shakspeare.

THE sight which met my eyes as I gazed around was one which time can never efface from my memory. In the centre of the room, his brow darkened by the flush of concentrated indignation, stood Oaklands, his left hand clenching tightly the coat-collar of a man whom I at once perceived to be Wilford, while with his right hand he was administering such a horse-whipping as I hope never again to see a human being subjected to. Wilford, who actually writhed with mingled pain and fury, was making violent but ineffectual struggles to free himself. Near the door stood Wentworth, the blood dropping from his nose, and his clothes dusty and disordered, as if from a fall. Crouching in a corner at the farther end of the room, the tears coursing down her fear-blanched cheeks, and her hands clasped in an agony of terror and despair, was a girl, about nineteen years of age, whom I had little difficulty in recognising as Lizzie Maurice, the daughter of the old confectioner, of whose elopement we had been that morning informed. On perceiving me she sprang forward, and clasping my knees implored me to interfere and endeavour to separate them. I was not, however, called upon to do so, for, as she spoke, his riding-whip broke short in Oaklands' hand, and das.h.i.+ng down the fragments with an exclamation of impatience, he flung Wilford from him with so much force that he staggered forward a few paces, and would have fallen had not Wentworth caught him in his arms, just in time to prevent it.

[Ill.u.s.tration: page190 The Roused Lion]

-191--Oaklands then turned to the girl, whom I had raised from the ground and placed on a chair, and addressing her in a stern impressive manner, said: ”I will now resume what I was saying to you when yonder beaten hound dared to lay hands upon me. For the last time the choice is offered to you--either return home, and endeavour, by devoting yourself to your broken-hearted old father, to atone as best you may for the misery you have caused him; or, by remaining here, commence a life of infamy which will end sooner or later in a miserable death.” He paused; then, as she made no reply, but sat with her face buried in her hands, sobbing as if her heart would break, he continued, ”You tell me, the vile tempter who has lured you from your duty promised to meet you here to-day, and, bringing a clergyman with him, to marry you privately; now if this is the truth----”

”It is, it is,” she faltered.

”If so,” resumed Oaklands, ”a knowledge of the real facts of the case may yet save you. This scoundrel who has promised to marry you, and who belongs to a rank immeasurably above your own, is already notorious for what are termed, by such as himself, affairs of gallantry; while the wretched impostor whom he has brought with him to act the part of clergyman is the marker at a low billiard-table, and no more a clergyman than I am.”

”Is this really so?” exclaimed the girl, raising her eyes, which were swollen and red with weeping, to Wilford's face; ”would you have deceived me thus, Stephen--you, whom I have trusted so implicitly?”

Wilford, who, since the severe discipline he had undergone, had remained seated, with his head resting on his hand, as if in pain, apparently unconscious of what was going on, glared at her ferociously with his flas.h.i.+ng eyes, but made no reply. The girl waited for a minute; but, obtaining no answer, turned away with a half shudder, murmuring, ”Deceived, deceived!” Then addressing Oaklands, she said, ”I will go home to my father, sir; and if he will not forgive me, I can but lie down and die at his feet--better so than live on, to trust, and be deceived again”.

”You have decided rightly, and will not repent it,” remarked Oaklands in a milder tone of voice; then, turning to the blacksmith (who had made his appearance, accompanied by his wife, the moment the affray had ended), he continued: ”you must procure some conveyance immediately to take this young person back to Cambridge, and your wife must accompany her”. -192--Observing that the man hesitated, and cast an inquiring glance towards Wilford, he added sternly, ”If you would not be compelled to answer for the share you have taken in this rascally business before the proper authorities, do as I have told you without loss of time”.

The man having again failed in an attempt to attract Wilford's attention, asked in a surly tone, ”Whether a spring-cart would do?” and, being answered in the affirmative, left the room.

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