Part 60 (2/2)
His tone and manner were so insolent and overbearing, that my blood boiled in my veins. Unwilling, however, to bring on a quarrel in such a presence, I restrained my indignation, and replied, ”I know not what devil sent you here at this moment, Richard c.u.mberland; I have been sorely tried, and I warn you not to provoke me further”.
”I tell you, you are trespa.s.sing, fellow; this is the second time I have caught you lurking about; take yourself off instantly, or--” as he spoke he stepped towards me, raising his cane with a threatening gesture.
”Or what?” inquired I, at length thoroughly roused; and, drawing myself up to my full height, I folded my arms across my chest, and stood before him in an att.i.tude of defiance.
As I did so, he turned deadly pale, and for a moment his resolution seemed to fail him; but catching the sound of Wilford's sneering laugh, and relying on the a.s.sistance of the gamekeeper, who, having tied the pony to a tree, was fast approaching the scene of action, he replied, ”Or receive the chastis.e.m.e.nt due to such skulking vagabonds!” and springing upon me, he seized my collar with one hand, while with the other he drew the cane sharply across my shoulders.
[Ill.u.s.tration: page398 A Striking Position]
To free myself from his grasp by a powerful effort was the work of a moment, while almost at the same time I struck him with my full force, and, catching him on the upper part of the nose, dashed him to the ground, where he lay motionless, and apparently stunned, with the blood gus.h.i.+ng from his mouth and nostrils.-399--
CHAPTER XLIX -- MR. FRAMPTON MAKES A DISCOVERY
”In a tandem I see nothing to induce the leader to keep his course straightforward, but an address on the part of the charioteer as nearly as can be supernatural.... And, for my own part, I think leaders of tandems are particularly apt to turn short round. And the impudence with which they do it, in some instances, is past all description, staring all the while full in the faces of those in the carriage, as much as to say, 'I must have a peep at the fools behind that are pretending to manage me'.”
--_Thinks I to Myself_.
”But he grew rich, and with his riches grew so Keen the desire to see his home again, He thought himself in duty bound to do so.
Lonely he felt at times as Robin Crusoe.”
--_Beppo_.
ALL that pa.s.sed immediately after the events I have described left but a succession of vague and confused images on my memory. I have some dim recollection of seeing them raise c.u.mberland from the ground, and of his showing symptoms of returning animation; but I remember nothing distinctly till I again found myself a tenant of the little sanded parlour in the village inn. My first act was to ring for a basin of cold water and a towel, with which I well bathed my face and head; in some degree refreshed by this process, I sat down and endeavoured to collect my scattered senses.
I had succeeded in my immediate object, and suspense was at an end. I had obtained certain proof of Clara's falsehood; with her own lips I had heard her declare that she repented her engagement, and wished to be freed from it; and the person to whom she had confided this was a man whose attentions to her were so marked that even the very servants considered him an acknowledged suitor. What encouragement could be more direct than this? Well, then, she was faithless, and the dream of my life had departed. But this was not all; my faith in human nature was shaken--nay, destroyed at a blow. If _she_ could prove false, whom could I ever trust again? Alas! the grief--the bitter, crus.h.i.+ng grief--when the consciousness is forced upon us that one with whom we have held sweet interchange of thought and feeling--with whom we have been linked by all the sacred ties of mutual confidence--with whose sorrows we have sympathised, and -400-- whose smiles we have hailed as the freed captive hails the suns.h.i.+ne and the dews of heaven--that one whom for these things we have loved with all the deepest instincts of an earnest and impa.s.sioned nature, and for whose truth we would have answered as for our own, is false and unworthy such true affection--oh! this is bitter grief indeed! Deep sorrow, absorbing all the faculties of the soul, leaves no room for any other emotion; and in the one idea, that Clara Saville--Miss Clara Saville, whom my imagination had depicted the simple, the loving, the true-hearted--was lost to me for ever, I forgot for somc time the existence of Wilford or the fact that in my anger I had stricken down and possibly seriously injured c.u.mberland. But as the first agony of my grief began to wear off, I became anxious to learn the extent of the punishment I had inflicted on him, and accordingly despatched a boy to Peter Barnett, requesting him to send me word how matters stood.
During his absence it occurred to me that, as Wilford had been introduced to her under a feigned name, Clara must be utterly ignorant of the evil reputation attaching to him, and that--although this did, not in any way affect her heartless conduct towards me--it was only right that she should be made aware of the true character of the man with whom she had to deal; therefore, painful as it was to hold any communication with her after what had pa.s.sed, 1 felt that the time might come when my neglect of this duty might afford me cause for the most bitter self-reproach. Accordingly, asking for pen, ink, and paper, I sat down and wrote the following note:--
”After the occurrences of this morning, I had thought never, either by word or letter, to hold further communication with you; by your own act you have separated us for ever; and I--yes, I can say it with truth--am glad that it should be so--it prevents all conflict between reason and feeling. But I have what I deem a duty to perform towards you--a duty rendered all the more difficult, because my motives are liable to cruel misconstruction; but it is a duty, and therefore must be done. You are, probably, as little aware of the true character of the man calling himself Fleming as of his real name; of him may be said, as of the Italian of old, that 'his hate is fatal to man, and his love to woman'; he is alike notorious as a duellist and a libertine. My knowledge of him arises from his having in a duel wounded, almost unto death, the dearest friend I have on earth, who had saved an innocent girl from adding to his list of victims. If you -401-- require proof of this beyond my word, ask Mr. Stephen Wilford--for such is really his name--in your guardian's presence, whether he remembers Lizzie Maurice and the smart of Harry Oaklands' horsewhip. And now, having warned you, your fate is under your own control. For what is past I do not reproach you; you have been an instrument in the hands of Providence to wean my affections from this world, and if it is His good pleasure that, instead of a field for high enterprise and honest exertion, I should henceforth learn to regard it as a scene of broken faith and crushed hopes, it is not for me to rebel against His will. And so farewell for ever!--F. F.”
I had not long finished writing the above when the boy returned, bringing the following missive from old Peter:--
”Honoured Sir,
”The topper as you've give Muster Richard ain't done him no more harm, only lettin' hout a little of his mad blood, and teachin' 'im when he speaks to a gemman to haddress 'im as sich; 'is face is swelled as big as too, and he'll 'ave a sweet pair of black hyes to-morrer, please goodness, which is a comfort to reflect on. Touchin' uther matturs, I've got scent of summut as may make things seeme not so black as we thort, but it's honly in the hegg at present, and may never come to a chickin, so don't go settin' too much on it; but if you've nothin' better to do, ride over agen the day arter to-morrer, by which time I may have more to communicate, ”Your humbel servent to command,
”Peter Barnett.”
I pondered for some minutes on what this enigmatical doc.u.ment might portend; but a little reflection served to convince me that neither Peter nor any one else could discover aught affecting the only feature of the whole affair which deeply interested me; on that point I had obtained the information of my own senses, and there was nothing more to hope or fear. I had learned the worst; the blow had fallen, and it only remained for me to bear it with what fort.i.tude I might. Accordingly I enclosed my note to Clara in one to Peter Barnett, telling him I could see no reason for coming there again, and that in all probability I should not take the trouble of doing so, adding that if he had anything new to communicate he had better do so in writing; and then, ordering my horse, I rode slowly home, feeling more -402-- thoroughly miserable than I had ever done before in the whole course of my life.
The next morning was so fine that all kinds of pleasurable schemes were proposed and acceded to. Oaklands and f.a.n.n.y rode out together in all the unrestrained freedom of an engaged tete-a-tete. The new dog-cart had arrived, and the chestnuts were to make their _debut_; consequently, Lawless spent the morning in the stable-yard, united by the closest bonds of sympathy with the head-groom and an attendant harness-maker, the latter being a young man whose distinguis.h.i.+ng characteristics were a strong personal savour of new leather, hands gloved in cobbler's wax and harness-dye, and a general tendency to come off black upon everything he approached. Sir John and the rest of the party were to fill a britchska, and the place of rendezvous was the ruins of an old abbey about eight miles distant.
Feeling quite unfit for society, I had excused myself on the plea (not altogether a false one) of a bad headache, and having witnessed their departure from the library window, I drew an easy-chair to the fire, and prepared to enjoy the luxury (in my then state of feeling an unspeakable one) of solitude. But I was not fated to avail myself of even this small consolation, for scarcely ten minutes had elapsed when the library door was opened, and Mr. Frampton made his appearance.
”Umph! eh! umph!” he began; ”I've been seeing that young fool Lawless start in his new tandem, as he calls it. A pretty start it was too; why, the thing's as high as a stage-coach--ought to have a ladder to get up--almost as bad as mounting an elephant! And then the horses, fiery devils! two men at each of their noses, and enough to do to hold 'em even so! Well, out comes Master Lawless, in a greatcoat made like a coal-sack, with b.u.t.tons as big as five-s.h.i.+lling pieces, a whip as long as a fis.h.i.+ng-rod in his hand, and a cigar in his mouth. 'There's a picture!' says he. 'A picture of folly,' says I; 'you're never going to be mad enough to trust yourself up there Behind those vicious brutes?'
'Come, governor, jump in, and let's be off,' was all the answer I got.
'Thank ye,' says I; 'when you see me jumping in that direction, pop me into a strait-waistcoat, and toddle me off to Bedlam.' 'Eh! won't you go? Tumble in then, Shrimp!' 'Please, sir, it's so high I can't reach it.' 'We'll soon see about that!' cries Lawless, flanking him with the long whip. Well, the little wretch scrambled up somehow, like a monkey; and as soon as he was -403-- safely landed, what does he do but lean back, fold his arms, and winking at one of the helpers, squeak out, 'Oh, crickey! ain't this spicy, just!' 'You're never going to take that poor child?' says I; 'only think of his anxious mother! 'Well, sir, if you'll believe it, they every one of 'em burst out laughing--helpers, brat and all--as if I'd said something very ridiculous. 'Never mind, governor,'
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