Part 68 (1/2)

ON the sudden appearance of old Peter in the deplorable condition described in the last chapter, we all sprang to our feet, eager to learn the cause of what we beheld. We were not long kept in suspense, for as soon as he could recover breath enough to speak, he turned to Mr.

Vernor, saying, in a voice hoa.r.s.e with sorrow and indignation:--”If you knows anything of this here wickedness, as I half suspects you do, servant as I am, I tells you to your face, you're a willain, and I could find in my heart to -448-- serve you as your precious nephew (as you calls him) and his hired bullies have served me”.

”How dare you use such language to me?” was the angry reply. ”You have been drinking, sirrah; leave the room instantly.”

”Tell me, Peter,” exclaimed I, unable longer to restrain myself, ”what has happened? Your mistress--Clara--is she safe?”

”That's more than I knows,” was the reply; ”if she is now, she won't be soon, without we moves pretty sharp; for she's in precious unsafe company. While we was a-looking after one thief, we've been robbed by t'other: we was watching Muster Wilford, and that young scoundrel c.u.mberland has cut in and bolted with Miss Clara!”

”Distraction!” exclaimed I, nearly maddened by the intelligence; ”which road have they taken? how long have they been gone?”

”Not ten minutes,” was the reply; ”for as soon as ever they had knocked me down, they forced her into the carriage, and was off like lightning; and I jumped up, and ran here as hard as legs would carry me.”

”Then they may yet be overtaken,” cried I, seizing my hat; ”but are you sure Wilford has nothing to do with it?”

”Quite certain,” was the answer; ”for I met him a-going a-shooting as I c.u.m in, and he stopped me to know what was the matter: and when I told him, he seemed quite fl.u.s.tered like, and swore he'd make c.u.mberland repent it.”

”Mad, infatuated boy!” exclaimed Mr. Vernor; ”bent on his own ruin.”

And burying his face in his hands, he sank into a chair, apparently insensible to everything that was pa.s.sing.

”Now, Peter,” I continued, ”every moment is of importance; tell me which road to take, and then get me the best horse in the stable, without a moment's delay. I will bear you harmless.”

”I've thought of all that, sir,” rejoined Peter Barnett. ”It's no use your going alone; there's three of them besides the postboys. No! you must take me with you; and they've knocked me about so, that I don't think I could sit a horse, leastways not to go along as we must go, if we means to catch 'em. No! I've ordered fresh horses to your carriage, it's lighter than the one they have got, and that will tell in a long chase; you _must_ take me to show you the way, Muster Fairlegh.”

”Well, come along, then. Mr. Frampton, I'll bring you your niece in safety, or this is the last time we shall meet, for I never will return without her.”

-449-- ”Umph! eh? I'll go with you, Frank; I'll go with you.”

”I would advise you not, sir,” replied I; ”it will be a fatiguing, if not _a dangerous_ expedition.”

”Ain't I her uncle, sir? umph!” was the reply. ”I tell you I will go.

Danger, indeed! why, boy, I've travelled more miles in my life, than you have inches.”

”As you please, sir,” replied I; ”only let us lose no time.” And taking his arm I hurried him away.

Glancing at Mr. Vernor as we left the library, I perceived that he still remained motionless in the same att.i.tude. As we reached the hall-door, I was glad to find that Peter's exertions had procured four stout horses, and that the finis.h.i.+ng stroke was being put to their harness as we came up.

”Who is that?” inquired I, as my eye caught the figure of a horseman, followed by a second, apparently a groom, riding rapidly across the park.

”That's Mr. Fleming, sir,” replied one of the helpers; ”he came down to the stable, and ordered out his saddle-horses in a great hurry; I think he's gone after Mr. c.u.mberland.”

”What are we waiting for?” exclaimed I, in an agony of impatience.

”Peter!--Where's Peter Barnett?”

”Here, sir,” he exclaimed; making his appearance the moment after I had first observed his absence. ”It ain't no use to start on a march without arms and baggage,” he added, flinging a wrapping greatcoat (out of the pocket of which the b.u.t.ts of a large pair of cavalry pistols protruded) into the rumble, and climbing up after it.

”Now, sir,” exclaimed I; and half-lifting, half-pus.h.i.+ng Mr. Frampton into the carriage, I bounded in after him: the door was slammed to, and, with a sudden jerk, which must have tried the strength of the traces pretty thoroughly, the horses dashed forward, old Peter directing the postboys which road they were to follow. The rocking motion of the carriage (as, owing to the rapid pace at which we proceeded, it swung violently from side to side) prevented anything like conversation, while, for some time, a burning desire to get on seemed to paralyse my every faculty, and to render thought impossible. Trees, fields and hedges flew past in one interminable, bewildering, ever-moving panorama, while to my excited imagination we appeared to be standing still, although the horses had never slackened their speed from the moment we started, occasionally breaking into a gallop wherever the road would permit. After proceeding at this rate, as nearly as --450- I could reckon, about ten miles, old Peter's voice was heard shouting to the postboys, and we came to a sudden stop. ”What is it?” inquired I eagerly; but Peter, without vouchsafing any answer, swung himself down from his seat, and ran a short distance up a narrow lane which turned off from the high road, stopped to pick up something, examined the ground narrowly, and then returned to the carriage, holding up in triumph the object he had found, which, as he came nearer, I recognised to be a silk handkerchief I had seen Clara wear.

”I didn't think my old eyes could have seen so quickly,” was his observation as he approached; ”we was almost over-running the scent, Muster Fairlegh; and then we should 'a been ruined--horse, fut, and artillery. Do you know what this is?”