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- float: left; - margin-right: 1em } - -.align-right { clear: right; - float: right; - margin-left: 1em } - -.align-center { margin-left: auto; - margin-right: auto } - -div.shrinkwrap { display: table; } - -/* SECTIONS */ - -body { margin: 5% 10% 5% 10% } - -/* compact list items containing just one p */ -li p.pfirst { margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0 } - -.first { margin-top: 0 !important; - text-indent: 0 !important } -.last { margin-bottom: 0 !important } - -span.dropcap { float: left; margin: 0 0.1em 0 0; line-height: 1 } -img.dropcap { float: left; margin: 0 0.5em 0 0; max-width: 25% } -span.dropspan { font-variant: small-caps } - -.no-page-break { page-break-before: avoid !important } - -/* PAGINATION */ - -.pageno { position: absolute; right: 95%; font: medium sans-serif; text-indent: 0 } -.pageno:after { color: gray; content: '[' attr(title) ']' } -.lineno { position: absolute; left: 95%; font: medium sans-serif; text-indent: 0 } -.lineno:after { color: gray; content: '[' attr(title) ']' } -.toc-pageref { float: right } - -@media screen { - .coverpage, .frontispiece, .titlepage, .verso, .dedication, .plainpage - { margin: 10% 0; } - - div.clearpage, div.cleardoublepage - { margin: 10% 0; border: none; border-top: 1px solid gray; } - - .vfill { margin: 5% 10% } -} - -@media print { - div.clearpage { page-break-before: always; padding-top: 10% } - div.cleardoublepage { page-break-before: right; padding-top: 10% } - - .vfill { margin-top: 20% } - h2.title { margin-top: 20% } -} - -/* DIV */ -pre { font-family: monospace; font-size: 0.9em; white-space: pre-wrap } - -</style> -<title>THE ADVENTURES OF HARRY ROCHESTER</title> -<meta name="PG.Rights" content="Public Domain" /> -<meta name="PG.Title" content="The Adventures of Harry Rochester" /> -<meta name="PG.Producer" content="Al Haines" /> -<link rel="coverpage" href="images/img-cover.jpg" /> -<meta name="DC.Creator" content="Herbert Strang" /> -<meta name="DC.Created" content="1905" /> -<meta name="MARCREL.ill" content="William Rainey" /> -<meta name="PG.Id" content="44362" /> -<meta name="PG.Released" content="2013-12-05" /> -<meta name="DC.Language" content="en" /> -<meta name="DC.Title" content="The Adventures of Harry Rochester A Tale of the Days of Marlborough and Eugene" /> - -<link href="http://purl.org/dc/terms/" rel="schema.DCTERMS" /> -<link href="http://id.loc.gov/vocabulary/relators" rel="schema.MARCREL" /> -<meta content="The Adventures of Harry Rochester A Tale of the Days of Marlborough and Eugene" name="DCTERMS.title" /> -<meta content="harry.rst" name="DCTERMS.source" /> -<meta content="en" scheme="DCTERMS.RFC4646" name="DCTERMS.language" /> -<meta content="2013-12-05T19:54:41.547310+00:00" scheme="DCTERMS.W3CDTF" name="DCTERMS.modified" /> -<meta content="Project Gutenberg" name="DCTERMS.publisher" /> -<meta content="Public Domain in the USA." name="DCTERMS.rights" /> -<link href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44362" rel="DCTERMS.isFormatOf" /> -<meta content="Herbert Strang" name="DCTERMS.creator" /> -<meta content="William Rainey" name="MARCREL.ill" /> -<meta content="2013-12-05" scheme="DCTERMS.W3CDTF" name="DCTERMS.created" /> -<meta content="width=device-width" name="viewport" /> -<meta content="EpubMaker 0.3.20a7 by Marcello Perathoner <webmaster@gutenberg.org>" name="generator" /> -</head> -<body> -<div class="document" id="the-adventures-of-harry-rochester"> -<h1 class="center document-title level-1 pfirst title"><span class="x-large">THE ADVENTURES OF HARRY ROCHESTER</span></h1> - -<!-- this is the default PG-RST stylesheet --> -<!-- figure and image styles for non-image formats --> -<!-- default transition --> -<!-- default attribution --> -<!-- -*- encoding: utf-8 -*- --> -<div class="clearpage"> -</div> -<!-- -*- encoding: utf-8 -*- --> -<div class="align-None container language-en pgheader" id="pg-header" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the </span><a class="reference internal" href="#project-gutenberg-license">Project Gutenberg License</a><span> -included with this eBook or online at -</span><a class="reference external" href="http://www.gutenberg.org/license">http://www.gutenberg.org/license</a><span>.</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<div class="align-None container" id="pg-machine-header"> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>Title: The Adventures of Harry Rochester -<br /> A Tale of the Days of Marlborough and Eugene -<br /> -<br />Author: Herbert Strang -<br /> -<br />Release Date: December 05, 2013 [EBook #44362] -<br /> -<br />Language: English -<br /> -<br />Character set encoding: UTF-8</span></p> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst" id="pg-start-line"><span>*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK </span><span>THE ADVENTURES OF HARRY ROCHESTER</span><span> ***</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst" id="pg-produced-by"><span>Produced by Al Haines.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span></span></p> -</div> -<div class="align-None container coverpage"> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 82%" id="figure-100"> -<span id="cover-art"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="Cover art" src="images/img-cover.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">Cover art</span></div> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -</div> -<div class="align-None container frontispiece"> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 81%" id="figure-101"> -<span id="the-fight-in-the-castle-yard"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="The Fight in the Castle Yard" src="images/img-front.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">The Fight in the Castle Yard</span></div> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -</div> -<div class="align-None container titlepage"> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="x-large">The Adventures of -<br />Harry Rochester</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="large">A Tale of the -<br />Days of Marlborough and Eugene</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">BY</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="large">HERBERT STRANG</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="small">AUTHOR OF "TOM BURNABY" "BOYS OF THE LIGHT BRIGADE" -<br />"KOBO: A STORY OF THE RUSSO-JAPANESE WAR"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">Illustrated by William Rainey, R.I.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">NEW YORK -<br />G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS -<br />27 AND 29 WEST 230 STREET -<br />1905</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -</div> -<div class="align-None container verso"> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"Honour hath three things in it: the vantage-ground to do -good; the approach to kings and principal persons; and the -raising of a man's own fortunes."</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><span>—</span><em class="italics">Bacon</em><span>.</span></p> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">My dear Tom,</em></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">You received my former books so kindly that I feel -assured you will not object to have this volume inscribed with -your name. I am not the less convinced of this because you -know well the country in which my opening scenes are laid, -and I had the pleasure last year of playing cricket with you -within a few miles of the village here disguised as Winton -St. Mary.</em></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">I hope you will bear with me for one minute while I -explain that in writing this book I had three aims. First, to -tell a good story: that of course. Secondly, to give some -account of the operations that resulted in one of the most -brilliant victories ever gained by our British arms. Thirdly, -to throw some light—fitful, it may be, but as clear as the -circumstances of my story admitted—on life and manners -two hundred years ago. History, as you have no doubt -already learnt, is not merely campaigning; and I shall be -well pleased if these pages enlarge your knowledge, in ever -so slight a degree, of an interesting period in our country's -annals. And if you, or any other Christ's Hospital boy, -should convict me of borrowing a week from the life of a -great personage, or of antedating by a little a development -in our national pastime—well, I shall feel complimented -by such evidence of careful reading, and not be -in the least abashed.</em></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">I take the opportunity of this open letter to acknowledge -my indebtedness to the monumental "Mémoires militaires -rélatifs à la succession d'Espagne" issued by the French -General Staff; to Mr. Austin Dobson for a detail which -only his perfect knowledge of the 18th century could so -readily have supplied; and to Lord Wolseley's brilliant life -of Marlborough, which every student of military history -must hope so competent a hand will continue and complete.</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<dl class="docutils"> -<dt class="noindent"><em class="italics">Yours very sincerely,</em></dt> -<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><em class="italics">HERBERT STRANG.</em></p> -</dd> -</dl> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><em class="italics">Michaelmas Day, 1905.</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">Contents</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<dl class="docutils"> -<dt class="noindent"><em class="italics">Chapter</em><span> I</span></dt> -<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-queen-s-purse-bearer">The Queen's Purse-Bearer</a></p> -</dd> -</dl> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<dl class="docutils"> -<dt class="noindent"><em class="italics">Chapter</em><span> II</span></dt> -<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#sherebiah-shouts">Sherebiah Shouts</a></p> -</dd> -</dl> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<dl class="docutils"> -<dt class="noindent"><em class="italics">Chapter</em><span> III</span></dt> -<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#master-and-man">Master and Man</a></p> -</dd> -</dl> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<dl class="docutils"> -<dt class="noindent"><em class="italics">Chapter</em><span> IV</span></dt> -<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#mynheer-jan-grootz-and-another">Mynheer Jan Grootz and Another</a></p> -</dd> -</dl> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<dl class="docutils"> -<dt class="noindent"><em class="italics">Chapter</em><span> V</span></dt> -<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#a-message-from-the-squire">A Message from the Squire</a></p> -</dd> -</dl> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<dl class="docutils"> -<dt class="noindent"><em class="italics">Chapter</em><span> VI</span></dt> -<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#my-lord-marlborough-makes-a-note">My Lord Marlborough makes a Note</a></p> -</dd> -</dl> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<dl class="docutils"> -<dt class="noindent"><em class="italics">Chapter</em><span> VII</span></dt> -<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#snared">Snared</a></p> -</dd> -</dl> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<dl class="docutils"> -<dt class="noindent"><em class="italics">Chapter</em><span> VIII</span></dt> -<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#flotsam">Flotsam</a></p> -</dd> -</dl> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<dl class="docutils"> -<dt class="noindent"><em class="italics">Chapter</em><span> IX</span></dt> -<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#monsieur-de-polignac-presses-his-suit">Monsieur de Polignac Presses his Suit</a></p> -</dd> -</dl> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<dl class="docutils"> -<dt class="noindent"><em class="italics">Chapter</em><span> X</span></dt> -<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#bluff">Bluff</a></p> -</dd> -</dl> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<dl class="docutils"> -<dt class="noindent"><em class="italics">Chapter</em><span> XI</span></dt> -<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-battle-of-lindendaal">The Battle of Lindendaal</a></p> -</dd> -</dl> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<dl class="docutils"> -<dt class="noindent"><em class="italics">Chapter</em><span> XII</span></dt> -<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#harry-is-discharged">Harry is Discharged</a></p> -</dd> -</dl> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<dl class="docutils"> -<dt class="noindent"><em class="italics">Chapter</em><span> XIII</span></dt> -<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#concerning-sherebiah">Concerning Sherebiah</a></p> -</dd> -</dl> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<dl class="docutils"> -<dt class="noindent"><em class="italics">Chapter</em><span> XIV</span></dt> -<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#harry-rides-for-a-life">Harry Rides for a Life</a></p> -</dd> -</dl> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<dl class="docutils"> -<dt class="noindent"><em class="italics">Chapter</em><span> XV</span></dt> -<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-water-of-affliction">The Water of Affliction</a></p> -</dd> -</dl> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<dl class="docutils"> -<dt class="noindent"><em class="italics">Chapter</em><span> XVI</span></dt> -<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#knaves-all-three">Knaves All Three</a></p> -</dd> -</dl> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<dl class="docutils"> -<dt class="noindent"><em class="italics">Chapter</em><span> XVII</span></dt> -<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#in-the-dusk">In the Dusk</a></p> -</dd> -</dl> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<dl class="docutils"> -<dt class="noindent"><em class="italics">Chapter</em><span> XVIII</span></dt> -<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#a-little-plot">A Little Plot</a></p> -</dd> -</dl> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<dl class="docutils"> -<dt class="noindent"><em class="italics">Chapter</em><span> XXI</span></dt> -<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#marlborough-s-march-to-the-danube">Marlborough's March to the Danube</a></p> -</dd> -</dl> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<dl class="docutils"> -<dt class="noindent"><em class="italics">Chapter</em><span> XX</span></dt> -<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-castle-of-rauhstein">The Castle of Rauhstein</a></p> -</dd> -</dl> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<dl class="docutils"> -<dt class="noindent"><em class="italics">Chapter</em><span> XXI</span></dt> -<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#across-the-fosse">Across the Fosse</a></p> -</dd> -</dl> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<dl class="docutils"> -<dt class="noindent"><em class="italics">Chapter</em><span> XXII</span></dt> -<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-fight-in-the-keep">The Fight in the Keep</a></p> -</dd> -</dl> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<dl class="docutils"> -<dt class="noindent"><em class="italics">Chapter</em><span> XXIII</span></dt> -<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#blenheim">Blenheim</a></p> -</dd> -</dl> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<dl class="docutils"> -<dt class="noindent"><em class="italics">Chapter</em><span> XXIV</span></dt> -<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-wages-of-sin">The Wages of Sin</a></p> -</dd> -</dl> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<dl class="docutils"> -<dt class="noindent"><em class="italics">Chapter</em><span> XXV</span></dt> -<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#a-bundle-of-letters">A Bundle of Letters</a></p> -</dd> -</dl> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<dl class="docutils"> -<dt class="noindent"><em class="italics">Chapter</em><span> XXVI</span></dt> -<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-new-squire">The New Squire</a></p> -</dd> -</dl> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<dl class="docutils"> -<dt class="noindent"><em class="italics">Chapter</em><span> XXVII</span></dt> -<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#visitors-at-winton-hall">Visitors at Winton Hall</a></p> -</dd> -</dl> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">List of Illustrations</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<dl class="docutils"> -<dt class="noindent"><em class="italics">Plate</em><span> I</span></dt> -<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-fight-in-the-castle-yard">The Fight in the Castle Yard</a><span> . . . . . . </span><em class="italics">Frontispiece</em></p> -</dd> -</dl> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<dl class="docutils"> -<dt class="noindent"><em class="italics">Plate</em><span> II</span></dt> -<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#harry-makes-a-diversion">Harry makes a Diversion</a></p> -</dd> -</dl> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<dl class="docutils"> -<dt class="noindent"><em class="italics">Plate</em><span> III</span></dt> -<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#my-lord-marlborough">My Lord Marlborough</a></p> -</dd> -</dl> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<dl class="docutils"> -<dt class="noindent"><em class="italics">Plate</em><span> IV</span></dt> -<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#at-the-last-gasp">At the Last Gasp</a></p> -</dd> -</dl> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<dl class="docutils"> -<dt class="noindent"><em class="italics">Plate</em><span> V</span></dt> -<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#mon-colonel-we-are-surrounded">"Mon Colonel, we are surrounded!"</a></p> -</dd> -</dl> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<dl class="docutils"> -<dt class="noindent"><em class="italics">Plate</em><span> VI</span></dt> -<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-stroke-of-eight">The Stroke of Eight</a></p> -</dd> -</dl> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<dl class="docutils"> -<dt class="noindent"><em class="italics">Plate</em><span> VII</span></dt> -<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#fire-and-fury-shouted-aglionby">"Fire and Fury!" shouted Aglionby</a></p> -</dd> -</dl> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<dl class="docutils"> -<dt class="noindent"><em class="italics">Plate</em><span> VIII</span></dt> -<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#mein-wirth-is-surprised">Mein Wirth is Surprised</a></p> -</dd> -</dl> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold medium">Map And Plan</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#map-of-the-low-countries-in-1703">Map of the Low Countries in 1703</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#plan-of-the-battle-of-blenheim">Plan of the Battle of Blenheim</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-queen-s-purse-bearer"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER I</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">The Queen's Purse-Bearer</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="small">Winton St. Mary—Cricket: Old Style—Last Man -In—Bowled—The Gaffer Explains—More Explanations—Parson -Rochester—"The Boy"—Cambridge in the Field—Village -Batsmen—Old Everlasting makes One—The Squire—An -Invitation—Lord Godolphin is Interested—An Uphill -Game—Young Pa'son—The Winning Hit</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"Stap me, Frank, if ever I rattle my old bones over these -roads again! Every joint in me aches; every wrinkle—and -I've too many—is filled with dust; and my wig—plague -on it, Frank, my wig's a doormat. Look at it—whew!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>My lord Godolphin took off his cocked hat, removed -his full periwig, and shook it over the side of the calash, -wrying his lips as the horse of one of his escort started -at the sudden cloud. My lord had good excuse for his -petulance. It was a brilliant June day, in a summer of -glorious weather, and the Wiltshire roads, no better nor -worse than other English highways in the year 1702, were -thick with white dust, which the autumn rains would by -and by transform into the stickiest of clinging mud. The -Lord High Treasurer, as he lay back wearily on his -cushions, looked, with his lean, lined, swarthy face and -close-cropt grizzled poll, every day of his fifty-eight years. -He was returning with his son Francis, now nearly twenty-three, -from a visit to his estates in Cornwall. Had he been -a younger man he would no doubt have ridden his own -horse; had he been of lower rank he might have travelled -by the public coach; but being near sixty, a baron, and -lord of the Treasury to boot, he drove in his private -four-horsed calash, with two red-coated postilions, and four -sturdy liveried henchmen on horseback, all well armed -against the perils of footpads and highwaymen.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was nearing noon on this bright, hot morning, and -my lord had begun to acknowledge to himself that he -would barely complete his journey to London that day.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where are we now, Dickory?" he asked languidly of -the nearest rider on the off-side.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nigh Winton St. Mary, my lord," replied the man. -"Down the avenue yonder, my lord; then the common, -and the church on the right, and the village here and there -bearing to the left, as you might say, my lord."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Look 'ee, Frank, we'll draw up at Winton St. Mary -and wet our whistles. My lady Marlborough expects -us in town to-night, to be sure; but she must e'en be -content to wait. Time was——eh, my boy?—but now, -egad, I'll not kill myself for her or any woman."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Twould be a calamity—for the nation, sir," said -Frank Godolphin with a grin.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So it would, i' faith. Never fear, Frank, I'll not -make way for you for ten years to come. But what's -afoot yonder? A fair, eh?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The carriage had threaded a fine avenue of elms, and -come within sight of the village common, which stretched -away beyond and behind the church, an expanse of rough -turf now somewhat parched and browned, broken here -by a patch of shrub, there by a dwindling pond, and -bounded in the distance by the thick coverts of the -manor-house. My lord's exclamation had been called forth by -the bright spectacle that met his eyes. At the side of -the road, and encroaching also on the grass, were ranged -a number of vehicles of various sizes and descriptions, -from the humble donkey-cart of a sherbet seller to the -lofty coach of some county magnate. Between the -carriages the travellers caught glimpses of a crowd; and -indeed, as they drew nearer to the scene, their ears were -assailed by sundry shoutings and clappings that seemed -to betoken incidents of sport or pastime. My lord -Godolphin, for all his coldness and reserve in his official -dealings, was in his moments a keen sportsman; from -a horse-race to a main of cock-fighting or a sword-match, -nothing that had in it the element of sport came -amiss to him; and as he replaced his wig and settled -his hat upon it his eyes lit up with an anticipation vastly -different from his air of weary discontent.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Split me, Frank," he cried in a more animated tone -than was usual with him; "whatever it is, 'twill cheer us -up. John," he added to the postilion, "drive on to the -grass, and stop at the first opening you find in the ring. -Odsbodikins, 'tis a game at cricket; we'll make an -afternoon of it, Frank, and brave your mother-in-law's anger, -come what may."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The postilions whipped up their horses, wheeled to the -right, and drove with many a jolt on to the common, -passing behind the row of vehicles until they came to an -interval between one of the larger sort and a dray heaped -with barrels of cider. There they pulled up sideways to -the crowd, over whose heads the occupants of the calash -looked curiously towards the scene of the game. It was -clearly an exciting moment, for beyond a casual turning -of the head the nearest spectators gave no heed to the -new-comers. A space was roped in at some distance in -front of the church, and within the ring the wickets were -pitched—very primitive compared with the well-turned -polished apparatus of to-day. The stumps were two short -sticks forked at the top, stuck at a backward slant into -the turf about a foot apart, with one long bail across them. -Nothing had been done to prepare the pitch; the grass -was short and dry and stubby, with a tuft here and there -likely to trip an unwary fielder headlong. There was no -crease, but a hole in the ground. Nor was there any -uniformity of attire among the players: all had the -stockings and pantaloons of daily wear, and if there was any -difference in their shirts, it was due merely to their -difference in rank and wealth.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Over" had just been called as Lord Godolphin and his -son drove up, and something in the attitude of the crowd -seemed to show that the game was at a crisis. The -umpires, armed with rough curved bats somewhat like -long spoons, had just taken their new places, and the -batsman who was to receive the first ball of the new over -was taking his block. A tall, loose-limbed young fellow, -he held his bat with an air of easy confidence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Egad, sir, 'tis Gilbert Young," said Frank Godolphin -to his father. "I knew him at Cambridge: a sticker. -Who's the bowler? I don't know him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The bowler was a youth, a mere stripling of some -sixteen or seventeen years, who stood at his end of the -wicket, ball in hand, awaiting the word to "play". His -loose shirt was open at the neck; his black hair, not yet -cropt for a wig, fell in a strong thick mass over his -brow; and as he waited for the batsman to complete his -somewhat fastidious preparations, he once or twice pushed -up the heavy cluster with his left hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Gibs was ever a tantalising beast," said Frank aside. -"Hi, you fellow!" he shouted to a broad-shouldered yokel -who stood just in front of him by the rope, "how stands -the score?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The man addressed looked over his shoulder, and seeing -that the speaker was one of the "quality" he doffed his -cap and replied:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Tis ninety-four notches, your honour, and last man in. -Has a'ready twenty-vive to hisself, and the Winton boys -can't get un out."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Play!" cried the umpire. The batsman stood to his -block, and looked round the field with a smile of -confidence. The bowler gave a quick glance around, took -a light run of some three yards, and delivered the -ball—underhand, for round-arm bowling was not yet invented. -The ball travelled swiftly, no more than two or three feet -above the ground, pitched in front of the block-hole, and -was driven hard to the off towards a thick-set, grimy-looking -individual—the village smith. He, bending to -field the ball, missed it, swung round to run after it, and -fell sprawling over a tussock of grass, amid yells of -mingled derision and disappointment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Pick theeself up, Lumpy!" roared the man to whom -Frank Godolphin had spoken. But the ball had already -been fielded by Long Robin the tanner, running round -from long-on. Sir Gilbert meanwhile had got back to his -end of the wicket, and the scorer, seated near the umpire, -had cut two notches in the scoring stick.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Again the ball was bowled, with an even lower delivery -than before. The batsman stepped a yard out of his -ground and caught the ball on the rise; it flew high over -the head of the remotest fieldsman, over the rope, over -the crowd, and dropped within a foot of the lych-gate of -the church. Loud cheers from a party of gentlemen -mounted on coaches in front of a tent greeted this stroke; -four notches were cut to the credit of the side, bringing -the score to a hundred. There was dead silence among -the crowd now; it was plain that their sympathies lay -with the out side, and this ominous opening of the new -bowler's over was a check upon their enjoyment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sir Gilbert once more stood to his block. For his third -ball the bowler took his run on the other side of the -wicket. His delivery this time was a little higher: the -ball pitched awkwardly, and the batsman seemed to be in -two minds what to do with it. His hesitation was fatal. -With a perplexing twist the ball slid along the ground -past his bat, hit the off stump, and just dislodged the bail, -which fell perpendicularly and lay across between the -sticks. Sir Gilbert looked at it for a moment with rueful -countenance, then marched towards the tent, while the -crowd cheered and, the innings being over, made for the -stalls and carts, at which ale and cider and gingerbread -were to be had.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Egad, 'twas well bowled," ejaculated Lord Godolphin; -"a cunning ball, a most teasing twist; capital, capital!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll go and speak to Gibs," said Frank. "Will you -come, sir?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not I, i' faith. 'Tis too hot. Bring him to me. I'll -drink a glass of cider here and wait your return."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a cider cart near at hand, and his man -Dickory brought my lord a brimming bumper drawn from -the wood. He winced as the tart liquor touched his -palate, unaccustomed to such homely drink; but it was -at least cool and refreshing, and he finished the bumper. -As he gave it back he noticed an old man slowly -approaching, leaning with one hand upon a stout knobby -stick of oak, and holding in the other a rough three-legged -stool, which he placed between my lord's calash and the -rope. He was a fine-looking old man, dressed in plain -country homespun; his cheeks were seamed and weather-beaten, -but there was still a brightness in his eyes and an -erectness in his figure that bespoke health and the joy of -life. He sat down on the stool, took off his hat and wiped -his brow, then, resting both hands on his stick, looked -placidly around him. There was no one near to him; the -space was clear, for players and spectators had all flocked -their several ways to get refreshment, and for some -minutes the old man sat alone. Then Lord Godolphin, -to ease his limbs and kill time, stepped out of his carriage -and went towards the veteran.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, gaffer," he said, "have ye come out to get -a sunning?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The old man looked up.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay sure, your honour," he said, "and to zee the -match. You med think me too old; true, I be gone eighty; -come Martinmas I shall be eighty-one, and I ha'n't a -wamblen tooth in my head—not one, old as I be. A -man's as old as he feels, says my boy—one o' the wise -sayens he has: I ha'n't felt no older this twenty year, -nay, nor twenty-vive year neither."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"By George! I wish I could say the same. What's the -match, gaffer?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, they do say 'tis for a wager; 'tis all 'I'll lay ye -this' and 'I'll lay ye that' in these days. I don't know -the rights on't, but 'tis said it all come about at a supper -up at Squire's.—Do 'ee know Squire? Eh well, there be -the house, yonder among the trees. Squire's son be hot -wi' his tongue, and at this same supper—I tell 'ee as I -yeard it—he wagered young Master Godfrey of the Grange -he'd bring eleven young gen'lmen from Cambridge college -as would beat our village players at the cricket. A -hunnerd guineas was the wager, so 'tis said. Master -Godfrey he ups and says 'Done wi' 'ee', and so 'tis come -about. The Cambridge younkers be all high gentry, -every man on 'em; our folks, as your honour med see, be -just or'nary folks in the main: there's Long Robin the -tanner and Lumpy the smith—he that turned topsy-turvy -a-hunten the ball by there; and Honest John the miller: -Old Everlasten they calls un, 'cause he never gets cotched -out nor bowled neither: ay, a good stick is Old -Everlasten, wi' a tough skin of his own. And there be Soapy -Dick the barber, and Tom cobbler, and more of the -village folk; and the only gentry among 'em is Master -Godfrey hisself and pa'son's son, and he don't count -for gentry wi' some. Do 'ee know pa'son? a good man, -saven your honour, ay, a right good man is Pa'son -Rochester, and stands up to old Squire like a game-cock, -so he do—a right good man is pa'son, ay sure. And his -son Harry—well, to tell 'ee the truth, I'm main fond of -the lad; main fond; 'tis a well-favoured lad, well spoken -too, and he thinks a deal o' me, he do, and I thinks a -deal o' he. Why, 'twas he bowled that artful ball as -put out t' last man from Cambridge college.—There, my -old tongue runs on; I don't offend your honour?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not a whit," said my lord. "The young bowler is -the parson's son, eh? Bred for a parson too, I suppose?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He's over young yet, your honour, but a month gone -seventeen. He said to me only yesterday: 'Gaffer,' says -he, 'what'll 'ee do 'ithout me when I go up to Oxford?' He -be gwine come October, a' believe. 'Twas at Oxford -college they made his feyther a pa'son, so belike the lad'll -put on the petticoats too, though sure he's fit for summat -better. But he'll make a good pa'son if he takes arter his -feyther. Bless 'ee, Pa'son Rochester be the only man in -the parish as a'n't afeard o' Squire. I be afeard o' -Squire, I be, though 'ee med not think it. Ah! he's a -hard man, is Squire. A' fell out with pa'son first 'cause -he wouldn't be his chaplain—goo up t' hall an' say -grace and eat the mutton and turmuts, an' come away -wi'out pudden. Wi'out pudden!—I wouldn't goo wi'out -pudden for no man; that's why I first took a fancy for -pa'son. Then Squire, he wanted to fence in a big slice of -this common land, as ha' belonged to the folks of Winton -Simmary time wi'out mind; and pa'son stood up to 'n, -and told 'n flat to his face 'twas agen the law, an' he had -the law on 'm, he did; an' the wise judges up in Lun'on -town said as how Squire were wrong. But Lor' bless 'ee, -Squire be as obstinate as a pig; he don't care nowt for -judges; he ups and 'peals to King Willum hisself. Then -King Willum dies, poor feller, an' Queen Anne sits proud -on the gold throne, an' there 'tis; 'twill take a time for -her poor woman's mind to understand the rights o' the -matter; her don't know pa'son so well as we."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Or she might make him a bishop, eh? Perhaps I can -put in a word for him," said my lord jestingly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The old man stared.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And who med 'ee be, your honour, if I mebbe so bold -to axe?" he said slowly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I? Oh—well, I have care of the Queen's purse."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There now, and I've been talken to 'ee just as if 'ee -were a knight or squire, when I med ha' known 'ee by -your cut for one of the mighty o' the earth. But 'ee'll -forgive a old man—ay, gone eighty year. I was born -three year afore Scotch Jamie died; no sart of a king was -Jamie, a wamblen loon, so I've yeard tell. And Charles -One, he was well-favoured before the Lord, true, but not -a man of his word. Nay, Noll Crum'ell was the right sart -o' king; I mind un well. I was a trooper in his -regiment, and we was as fine a set o' men as ever trod neat's -leather, true, we was. I rode wi' un to Marston Moor -in '44, nigh zixty year back. Ay, a right king was old -Noll. And I fought in Flanders when Noll was friends -with the French king; but I left that line o' life when -Charles Two come back with his French madams; and -now we be a-fighten the French, so 'tis said; 'twas what -us Englishmen was born for, to be sure; ay, that 'tis."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Here my lord's attention was attracted towards a group -of villagers approaching. They were led by a short -well-set-up fellow with a humorous cast of face; his thumbs -were stuck into his arm-pits, and as he walked he was -singing to the accompaniment of a flute played by the man -at his side. The old man looked towards him and smiled -affectionately.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Tis my boy a-comen," he said. "Was born in '59, -your honour, the year afore Charles Two coom back; -and I chrisomed un Sherebiah Stand-up-and-bless out of -Nehemiah nine; a good boy, though wilful."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The boy of forty-three was singing lustily:</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"'Twas on a jolly summer's morn, the twenty-first of May,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Giles Scroggins took his turmut-hoe, and with it trudged away.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For some delights in hay-makin', and some they fancies mowin',</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But of all the trades as I likes best, give I the turmut hoein'.</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>For the fly, the fly, the fly is on the turmut;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And 'tis all my eye for we to try, to keep fly off the turmut."</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"Mum, boy, mum!" said his father. "The boy has a -sweet breast, your honour," he added, turning to Godolphin, -"and 'tis my belief 'twill lead un into bad company -in the days o' his youth. He </span><em class="italics">will</em><span> sing 'Sir Simon the -King' and 'Bobbing Joan', and other sinful ditties. Ah! -I had a good breast in my time; and you should ha' yeard -Noll's men sing as we marched into Preston fight; I could -sing counter to any man.—Boy, doff your hat to the -Queen's purse-bearer.—Ay, 'twas psa'ms an' hymns an' -speritual songs in my time, as the Book says."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sarvant, yer honour," said the new-comer, bobbing -to Godolphin. "Feyther been taken away my good -name? 'Tis a wise feyther knows his own child; feyther -o' mine forgot that when he named me Sherebiah -Stand-up-and-bless. Beant the fault o' my name I ha'n't took -to bad courses. But there, he's a old ancient man, nigh -ready for churchyard—bean't 'ee, dad?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not till I make a man on 'ee, boy."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"May I present my friend Sir Gilbert Young, sir?" -said Frank Godolphin, coming up at this moment through -the gathering crowd.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>My lord bowed and swept off his hat in the courtly -fashion of the day, in response to a still lower salutation -from the young Cambridge man.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am honoured, my lord," said Sir Gilbert.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My lard, i' fecks!" ejaculated Sherebiah's father, with -a startled look. "My lard,—an' I ha'n't even pulled my -forelock! Boy, doff your cap to my lard! And the Book -says, 'They shall stand afore princes', and I'm a-sitten!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The old fellow began to struggle to his feet with the -aid of his staff, but Godolphin laid his hand on his arm, -and pressed him down.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sit fast, gaffer," he said. "See, the players are -coming out again. I am pleased to have met one of -Noll's veterans so hale and hearty, and I hope your son -will turn out as great a comfort to you as mine."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He put his arm fondly through Frank's, and returned -to his carriage. The crowd was collecting about the -rope, and the Cambridge men were already taking their -places in the field. Their score of a hundred was higher -than the average in those days, and the villagers were -eagerly discussing the chances of their team excelling it. -They had seen nothing of the other side's bowling powers, -but as they compared notes on the various merits as -batsmen of Honest John, and Long Robin, and Lumpy, and -the rest, many of them shook their heads and looked -rather down in the mouth.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The first pair of batsmen came to the wickets. They -were Old Everlasting and Soapy Dick. The former took -the first over, bowled by Gilbert Young, the captain -of the team, and calmly blocked every ball of the four, -giving a wink to his friends in the crowd when over was -called. Soapy Dick, at the other wicket, was a little man -with very red hair brushed up into a sort of top-knot in -front. He handled his bat in a nervous manner, and was -made still more nervous by the cries of the crowd.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hit un, Soapy!" cried one yokel. "Doan't be afeard, man."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Gi't lather, Soapy!" shouted another, whose cheeks -cried out for the barber's attentions.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Dick grinned mirthlessly, and fixed his eyes on the -bowler at the other end. The ball came towards him—a -slow, tempting lob that was too easy to let pass. Dick -lifted his bat and smote; the ball returned gently to the -bowler's hands, and a roar of derision sped the -shame-faced little barber back to the tent. One wicket down, -and no notches!—a bad beginning for Winton St. Mary.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lumpy was the next to appear. He waddled across -the grass turning up his sleeves—a fat little fellow with -bandy legs, and arms as thick as most men's thighs. As -he stood to take his block, he seemed to handle the bat -with contemptuous surprise, as though wondering what -use that was to a man accustomed to wield the -sledgehammer at the anvil. Satisfied with his position, he -planted his feet firmly, drew his left hand across his -mouth, and glared fiercely at the bowler. He was not -to be so easily tempted as poor Soapy Dick had been. -He waited for the ball, and as it rose brought his bat -down upon it with a perpendicular blow that appeared to -drive it into the turf, where it lay dead. The Cambridge -men roared with laughter, the crowd applauded vigorously, -and Lumpy once more wiped his mouth on the -back of his hand. The third ball of the over came, -pitching slightly to leg. Lumpy jumped completely round as -the ball reached him, and with a tremendous swipe sent -it high over long-stop's head into a patch of gorse, whence -it was not recovered until he had had three notches cut -to his credit. The last ball of the over thus came to -Old Everlasting, who solemnly blocked it, and beamed -upon the spectators with his usual smug smile.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lumpy had but a short life, after all. There was no -cunning about him; if he hit a ball it was bound to travel -far, but he struck out every time with the same violence, -and when he missed could hardly recover his balance. In -twenty minutes he had scored eleven notches, Old -Everlasting having consistently done nothing but block the -balls that fell to him; then, in hitting out, Lumpy, never -too steady on his bow leg's, overbalanced himself and fell -flat, and the long bail was promptly knocked off by the -wicket-keeper. Two wickets down for eleven.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After this, disaster followed disaster in such rapid -succession that the villagers looked blue. Long Robin the -tanner was caught second ball, and was afterwards heard -complaining bitterly of the bad leather the ball was made -of. Tom the cobbler came to the wicket with a bat of -his own—one that he kept hanging behind his kitchen -door, and took down every week for a thorough greasing. -He scored six notches, then hit a ball into his wicket, and -in the tent afterwards explained to his cronies that another -week's greasing would have prevented the accident. Four -wickets were now down for seventeen, and Godfrey -Fanshawe himself came in, amid a great outburst of cheers -from the crowd, with whom he was very popular, and -who looked to him, as the originator of the match and -the captain of the team, to retrieve the fortunes of the -day. He snicked his first ball for one; then Old -Everlasting evoked intense enthusiasm by poking a ball -between slip and point, and scoring his first notch. The -score rose slowly to thirty-one, Fanshawe making all the -runs, and then he ran himself out in trying to snatch an -extra from an overthrow. The fifth wicket was down. -Fanshawe was reputed the best batsman in the team, -and Winton St. Mary was still sixty-nine behind. There -was much shaking of the head among the villagers, and -they waited in glum silence for the next man to appear.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Look 'ee!" exclaimed the old trooper suddenly, "beant -that old Squire a-comen down-along by covert fence?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"True, Gaffer Minshull," said a by-stander; "what -eyes 'ee've got, for a old ancient soul! 'Tis old Squire -sure enough, and young Squire and the Cap'n wi' un."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Old Minshull leant forward on his stick, and with -pursed lips peered at the three figures approaching. One -was a burly man in the prime of life, dressed in -semi-military garb—a feathered hat, long red coat marked -with many stains and wanting some buttons, leather -breeches, and spurred boots. His features were coarse -and red, his eyes prominent and blood-shot; he walked -with a swagger, his left hand on his sword-hilt. The -second was a youth of some twenty years, dressed in -the extremity of foppishness. A black hat, looped up -and cocked over one eye, crowned a full auburn wig -fastidiously curled. The coat was blue, the waistcoat -purple, open to display a fine holland shirt. A laced -steinkirk was tucked in at the breast. The breeches -matched the vest, the stockings were of red silk, the -shoes had high red heels and large silver buckles. In -Mr. Piers Berkeley's mouth was a toothpick; from one -of the buttons of his coat dangled an amber-headed cane.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The third figure was a striking contrast to the others. -He was tall and thin and bent, with pale wrinkled cheeks -and bushy white eyebrows that ill matched his dark wig. -He scarcely lifted his eyes from the ground as he moved -slowly along, leaning heavily upon a silver-knobbed stick. -His dress was fusty and of a bygone mode; to a -Londoner the old man must have resembled a figure out of -a picture of Charles the Second's time.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who's this queer old put ambling along, Frank?" -asked my lord. "The rascals there avoid him as he had -the plague."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"On my life I don't know, sir," replied Mr. Godolphin. -"The fellow with him might stand for Bobadil himself."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Or for Captain Bluffe in Mr. Congreve's play."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And the young sprig wants a kicking."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sarvant, my lord," put in Sherebiah, who was standing -by; "'tis old Squire, and young Squire, and—— No, -I won't say 't; a wise head keeps a still tongue; I won't -say 't, leastways when a fowl o' the air med carry it -where 'twould do me and feyther o' mine no manner -o' good."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The crowd parted with a kind of sullen unwilling respect -to make way for the new-comers. Suddenly the squire -paused, as the elder of his two companions addressed him; -flashing an angry glance at him, he said a few vehement -words in a low tone that no one else could hear. Captain -Ralph Aglionby laughed aloud, shrugged carelessly, and -sauntered across the common towards the tent. The -squire followed him with a dark glance for a moment, -then resumed his slow progress with his son, and came -to within a few feet of Lord Godolphin's carriage.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Your lordship's servant," he said with a profound -bow, copied with elaborate elegance by his son. His -voice was thin and hard, a voice that set the teeth on -edge. "I heard your lordship was on the ground, and -made bold to come and pay my duty to your lordship."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am vastly beholden to you, Mr.——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Berkeley, my lord, Nicolas Berkeley of Winton Hall; -and would your lordship but favour me, I should be proud, -when the match is over, to offer your lordship a cover at -my table—poor country fare, I fear, but such as it is, -freely at your lordship's disposal."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Tis handsome of you, Mr. Berkeley, but I fear our -business will not permit us to accept of your hospitality.—Ah! -I perceive the next batsman is coming to the wicket. -I hope you're as keen a sportsman as I am myself, and -will forgive me if I fix my attention on the game."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Berkeley bowed again with expressionless face, and -after a moment's irresolution moved away. Gaffer -Minshull might have been observed to lick his old lips with -appreciation at this the very courtliest of cold shoulders. -Piers Berkeley, the young squire, stayed for a minute or -two, gazing with silly face at my lord; then, finding that -he remained unnoticed, he stuck the head of his cane into -his mouth and walked away sucking it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The game was resumed. For an hour it was tedious -watching. The new batsman snatched a run now and -then, while Old Everlasting blocked every ball that came -to him with the same want of enterprise and the same -boundless self-satisfaction. At length his partner was -caught in the long field; the sixth wicket had fallen, -and the score was no more than forty-five.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Give you three to one against the rustics, Frank," said -Lord Godolphin.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll take you, sir, though 'tis a risk. Who's our next -man?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Tis our bowler friend, the young sprig of a parson, -unless I mistake," said my lord. "What's the lad's name, -gaffer?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Tis Henry Winterborne Rochester, my lard, by the -water o' baptism; too rich a name for poor folks like we. -Young pa'son we calls un mostly."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A limber youth. I like his looks, eh, Frank? Does -he bat as well as he bowls?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Middlen, my lord, middlen," said Sherebiah. "Has -a good eye, but a deal o' growen to do afore he can -smite the ball as it should. But there, my lord, he as -can't do what he would must do what he can, as you -med say."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nothen truer, boy," said his father approvingly. "Ay, -'tis a pretty lad. Gi' un a cheer, souls."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mum, feyther," expostulated Sherebiah. "Old Squire's -comen back-along this way; little sticks kindle fires, as -you med say."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"True. I be a timbersome man, afeard o' Squire, -though you med n't think it. Well!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But though Gaffer Minshull forbore to cheer, the rest of -the crowd had no scruples, and the warmth of their greeting -brought a flush to the new batsman's honest face. He -stood at the wicket with quiet ease and watched Old -Everlasting block the last ball of the over; then he glanced -around, stooped to his bat, and fixed his gray eyes steadily -on the bowler.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The rest of the afternoon provided an unfailing subject -for gossip in the village for six months afterwards. -Playing at first with patient wariness, Harry never let a ball -pass his bat, but treated all with a respectful consideration -that was as noticeable as his graceful style. He played -two overs without getting a notch; then, after another -excellent blocking performance by his partner, came a -change. The first ball of the next over was rather loose; -Lord Godolphin, who, perhaps alone of the spectators, kept -his gaze fixed on the batsman's face, saw his lips come -together with a slight pressure and his eyes suddenly -gleam—and there was the ball, flying straight over the -bowler's head, passing between two coaches into the road. -Gaffer Minshull was on the point of raising his stick to -wave it, but was stopped by his son with a "Mind old -Squire, feyther o' mine."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Varty-vive and vour makes varty-nine," muttered the -old man. "I could do a bit o' cipheren in my time. Ay, -varty-nine."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nothing came of the next ball, but the third rose most -happily to Harry's bat, and with a neat little cut he sent it -under the rope among the crowd, who nimbly parted to let -it roll. Three notches were cut to his credit. Old -Everlasting complacently blocked the next ball, and Harry -treated the bowler at the other end with great respect till -the fourth ball, which he snicked away for a single. -Getting back thus to the wicket at which he had started, he -delighted the spectators by driving every ball of the over, -at the close of which the score had risen to sixty-three.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Tis the eye doos it," said the old man delightedly; -"Master Harry has'n clear an' steady. Ay sure, a' would -ha' made a good captain for Noll Crum'ell; if so be he's -a pa'son, all the use he can make o' his eye, 'twill be to -tarrify poor sinners like you an' me, my lard."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But misfortune was in store for the Winton St. Mary -men. Old Everlasting had the first ball of the next over, -delivered by a new bowler, a lanky fellow with a -tremendous pace, for whom two long-stops were placed. The -batsman was taken by surprise; he missed the ball, the -stumps went flying, and Old Everlasting walked away -scratching his poll, rejoicing in the magnificent score of -one. Harry accompanied him to the tent, and held a -short conversation with the next man. The fruit of this -was seen as soon as they reached the wickets. The first -ball missed bat, stumps, wicket-keeper, and both -long-stops; Harry called his partner for a bye, and though -there was plenty of time for a second run he was -contented with a single, thus securing the next ball. This -he hit round to leg, a stroke that ought to have made two, -but his partner was somewhat bulky, and suffered for his -misfortune by being promptly run out after one run had -been scored.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Eight wickets were now down, and the score was -sixty-five—thirty-five behind that of the Cambridge eleven. A -restlessness was observable in the crowd; it seemed -impossible that the home team could win; and there was -general despondency when it was noticed that the -incoming batsman was a spindle-legged fellow known as -Soft Jemmy, who did odd jobs about the village. Only -Sherebiah still appeared full of confidence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A fight bean't lost till it be won," he said. "Keep -up your sperits, souls."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Soft Jemmy never got a chance to miss the ball. Such -scheming was never seen on a cricket-field before. Harry -had privately instructed Jemmy to do just as he was told, -and the half-witted youth at least knew how to obey. -When Harry called him he ran; when told to stand in -his ground he remained fixed like a post; and so, snatching -byes, blocking, hitting when it was safe, Harry defied -all the bowling, and the score rose by ones and twos and -threes. A change came over the attitude of the -spectators. From dejection they passed to almost delirious -joy. Every hit was cheered to the echo; every little -manoeuvre of "young pa'son" added to their delight. -The effect on the out side was equal and opposite. -They became irritated at the altered aspect of the game. -Bowlers bowled wildly; fieldsmen fielded loosely, and got -in one another's way; and the more agitated they became, -the more coolly and confidently did Harry ply his bat. At -last, stepping out to a full pitch, he made a magnificent -drive over the bowler's head, and brought the total to a -hundred and two.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The cheer that rose from the crowd might have been -heard a mile away. Some of the men made a rush for -Harry, and bore him shoulder-high to the tent. Others -flew to secure their winnings, and celebrate the famous -victory in cider or home-brewed ale. Gaffer Minshull was -with difficulty dissuaded from whirling his hat round on -the top of his stick, and nothing could check his gleeful -exclamation:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A flick to young Squire; a terrible douse, ay sure!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"By George, a notable match!" said Godolphin. "Your -young parson is a lad of mettle, gaffer; he'll be a -sportsman an he lives long enough. Here, man, drink his -health, and tell him from me that the Lord Treasurer -loves pretty play. Come, Frank, we'll drive on."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He flung a coin to the old man, remounted his carriage, -and drove off. Gaffer looked at the money, then after the -calash.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, 'tis a mighty fine thing to hold the Queen's purse, -my lads, mighty fine! There be a power o' these same -shinen bright ones in the Queen's purse; eh, lads?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A shout came from the distance, and the eyes of the -small group around old Minshull were turned towards -the road. Lord Godolphin's carriage had broken down. -The axle had snapped in two; the horses were plunging, -and my lord and his son were clinging to the sides of the -vehicle. A score of sturdy fellows rushed to lend a hand, -and Gaffer Minshull was left to himself.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="sherebiah-shouts"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER II</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">Sherebiah Shouts</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="small">An Angling Story—Old Izaak—Landed—Breakfast—Marlborough's -Smile—The Story of a Potticary—Dosed—On the -Horizon—Highwaymen—A Man of Peace—Behind the Scenes—Nos -Duo—Promises—Black John Simmons—Sherebiah is Troubled</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"'Tis here or hereabouts, baten years ha'n't tooken my -memory. True, feyther o' mine calls me boy, and so I be -to a old aged man like him; but when a man's comen on -forty-four, and ha' seen summat o' the world—well,</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"'Man's life is but vain, for 'tis subject to pain</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>An' sorrow, an' short as a bubble;</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span>'Tis a hodge-podge o' business, an' money, an' care,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>An' care, an' money, an' trouble.'</span></div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Ay, 'tis so, 'tis so!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sherebiah sighed, but the sigh ill became his round, -jolly face; it was merely to chime with the words of the -song. He was walking, about six o'clock on the morning -after the cricket-match, along the bank of a little -hill-stream, rod in hand, yet not expecting to halt for a while, -for he took no pains to moderate his voice. He was not -alone. His companion was the youth who had won -the match for Winton St. Mary on the previous day—Harry -Rochester, the parson's son. Each carried a rod—the -huge clumsy rod of those days, nearly seventeen feet -in length; each was laden with wallet, landing-net, and -other apparatus; and in fact they had already had an -hour's sport with ground-bait, having risen from their -beds soon after three on this ideal angler's morning. A -haze lay over the ground, and a light rain was falling.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sherebiah was several yards ahead, scanning the banks. -His voice sank a little as he repeated the lines:</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"'Tis a hodge-podge o' business, an' money, an' care,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>An' care, an' money, an' trouble."</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"Cheer up!" said Harry, behind him. "I like the second -verse best, Sherry:</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"'But we'll take no care when the weather proves fair,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>Nor will we vex now though it rain—</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>He was interrupted by the sudden halt of Sherebiah. -The man had swung round; his lips were shot out in the -motion of shooing, a warning finger was held up. Harry's -voice died away, and he hastened to his companion's side.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yonder's the spot," said Sherebiah in a whisper, pointing -to a large pool, shaded with willows, some thirty yards -ahead. "Mum's the word! They be sharp-eared, they -trouts. 'Tis there I took ten lusty nibblers, ten year -agoo come Michaelmas. Faith, 'twas all I could do to -carry 'em; ay, and I shouldn' ha' got 'em home but for -Tom Dorrell, t' carrier from Salisbury, who came trundlen -along in his wagon. He be dead an' gone, poor soul, as -must we all."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And what did you do with them?" asked Harry with -a smile.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sherebiah was famous for his angling stories, and they -had perhaps as much foundation as most. No one in the -country-side knew the ways of the trout as he did; but he -was equally at home in trolling for jack or pike, roving -for perch, and sniggling for eels. None could match his -knowledge of the flies in their several seasons: the hour -of the day at which each is most killing; the merits of -the silver twist hackle and the lady-fly, whether for -dapping or whipping; when to use the black gnat, when the -blue; under what conditions of the evening sky the shyest -trout will rise to a red spinner. And who could tie a fly -like Sherebiah Minshull? Many a time Harry had examined -his rich store of materials—as varied as the contents -of a witch's cauldron: feathers of every bird that flies, -manifold silks and wires and hooks, wax and needles, -hog's down and squirrel's fur. Many a time had he -watched him dress a fly and thread a bait, and admired -his dexterous whipping of the streams.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What did I do wi' 'em?" Sherebiah had sat down -with legs far apart, and was carefully selecting a fly from -his case. He spoke always in a whisper. "Well, 'tis -ten year since, and my memory bean't what it was; but -now I mind on't, I gi' one to Tom carrier for his -lift, and a couple to miller up by Odbury, and one to -Susan Poorgrass at Sir Godfrey's—I was a-courten then; -her wouldn't ha' me, thank the Lord!—and a couple to -Ned Greenhay, Sir Godfrey's keeper as was, for a brace -o' leverets; and to please feyther o' mine I took three up -to the Hall. Zooks! and small thanks I got, for old -Squire hisself come to the door, and gi' me a douse, he -did; said if I didn't find summat better to do than go -traipsen the country-side, poachen or wuss, he'd commit -me for a rogue and vagabond. An' th' old curmudgeon -kept the fish; ay, he did so!—Ah! ha' got it; 'tis a fly -that cost me more time in the maken than a dozen others; -a beauty, to be sure; eh, Master Harry?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He proceeded to put it on his hook. It was an artificial -oak-fly, blue, green, brown, and orange so cunningly -mingled that no trout could fail to be deceived.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We'll now see some sport," continued Sherebiah, still -in a whisper, as he prepared to cast. "I can't abide -bait-fishen; sport, i' faith! 'tis mere bludgeon-play. True, it -fills the pot, but there's no pleasure in 't. 'Tis no pastime -for a true bob."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, Sherry, 'twas only yestere'en I was reading in a -most excellent book of angling by Master Izaak Walton, -and he, it seems, held little to the fly. His discourse is in -the main of bait."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, there 'tis. I met Master Walton once, a-fishen -in the Itchen above Winchester—a quaint man, with a -good breast for a song, for all he was ripe for the grave. -Myself I was but twenty or so, he a man of fourscore and -upward; ay, a fine hale old man, wi' a store o' memories. -We fell into talk; a' told me how a' once rid to Lunnon -wi' a rich jewel o' King Charles's in his doublet; ay, he -was a royal man, wi' a jolly red face, but no harm in un, -not a whit; and learned, too—but no angler. No, faith, -no angler, for a' talked o' fishen down stream, a' did, when -ne'er a child but knows fish lie wi' their heads up stream. -Ye cotch fish as 'ee do Frenchmen, from behind! Now, -hook's ready. Mum, Master Harry, while I cast."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He dropped his fly deftly into the still pool, watching it -with keen eyes and pursed lips. Meanwhile Harry had -chosen an orle fly, and made his cast a little lower down. -The anglers were silent for some minutes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What's that?" asked Harry suddenly, looking up as -a distant sound of wood-chopping reached his ears.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mum, boy!" whispered Sherebiah in reply. "There, -I beg pardon, Master Harry, but you've scared away a -samlet just as he opened his jaws. That? 'Tis Simon -forester, belike, fellen Sir Godfrey's timber. Now, a still -tongue——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He broke off, rose, and followed his line stealthily for a -yard or two. The surface of the water was disturbed, and -Harry caught a glimpse of a gleaming side. There was -a splash; the rod bent; then Sherebiah hastened his steps -as the fish went away with a rush.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He's a-showen fight," whispered Sherry. "Whoa! he's -sounded, Master Harry; a big un. Pray the tackle -may hold! Ah! he's clear, and off again! Whoa! whoa! -Nay, my pretty, 'ee may fight, but I'll land 'ee."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For ten minutes the contest continued; then the angler -got in his line slowly, and beckoned to Harry to assist -him. The fish was carefully drawn in; Harry stooped -with his net at the critical moment, and with a sudden -heave landed a fine four-pounder, which he slipped into -Sherebiah's creel.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's the way on't, Master Harry," said Sherebiah -contentedly. "Had no luck yourself, eh? What be 'ee -a-fishen wi'?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"An orle."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, 'tis an hour or two too early in the day for that, -mebbe. Still, these waters of Sir Godfrey bean't often -fished since young Master Godfrey went to Cambridge -college, and the trout mayn't be over squeamish. Stick -to 't!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>An hour passed, and both anglers were well satisfied. -Sherebiah's fly proved irresistible, either from its cunning -make or the wary skill with which he whipped the stream. -Four fat trout had joined the first in his basket; two had -rewarded Harry's persistence; then he laid down his rod -and watched with admiration the delicate casts of his -companion. Sherebiah landed his sixth. The haze having -now disappeared, and the sun growing hot, he wound up -his line and said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Rain afore seven, fine afore 'leven. I be mortal -peckish, Master Harry; what may 'ee have in your basket, -now?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Powdered beef, I think, Sherry; and Polly put in a -cate or two and some radishes, and a bottle of cider; -plain fare, you see."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, hunger's the best saace, I b'lieve. We poor -folks don't need to perk up our appetites. I warrant, -now, that mighty lord we saw yesterday would turn up his -nose at powdered beef. Fine kickshawses a' had at Sir -Godfrey's, no doubt. To think o' such a mighty lord, the -Queen's purse-bearer an' all, bein' kept in a little small -village by rust or dry-rot, just like a ordinary man! Old -Squire would ha' liked to gi' him a bed, I reckon; but Sir -Godfrey were aforehand, an' there he lies till this mornen: -axle was to be mended by six, if Lumpy had to work all -night to finish the job. Med I axe 'ee a question, Master -Harry? Do 'ee think that shinen piece a' flung to feyther -were his own, or out o' Queen's purse?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Harry laughed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Lord Godolphin doesn't go about the country with -the Queen's purse slung at his waist, Sherry. What he -meant was that he was Lord Treasurer, the Queen's chief -minister, the man who rules the country, you know."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, now, if I didn't think it'd be folly to carry the -Queen's purse loose about the country! Then 'tis Lord -Godolphin says we're to fight the French?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, he and my lord Marlborough between them."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah! there 'tis. My lord Marlborough bean't free -with his money like t'other lord. </span><em class="italics">He</em><span> wouldn't ha' given -old feyther o' mine nothen. Why, I was at Salisbury in -'88 when my lord—Lord Churchill he was then, to be -sure—was there to meet King Willum, and I held his horse -for 'n, and he gi' me—what do 'ee think he gi' me, -Master Harry?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nowt but a smile! What med 'ee think o' that for -a lord? 'Thank 'ee, my man,' says he, and puts his foot -in the stirrup and shows his teeth at me, and rides off! -Lord! Now t'other one, the Lord Godolphin, he is a lord, -to be sure, a fine free-handed gentleman, though he ha'n't -got such fine teeth. I like a lord to be a lord, I do."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My lord Marlborough is indeed rather close-fisted, -they say."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, but I ha' knowed a wuss. Did ever I tell 'ee of -Jacob Spinney the potticary? I was a growen lad, and -feyther o' mine wanted to put me to a trade. So he bound -me prentice to Jacob Spinney, that kept a potticary's shop -by Bargate at S'thampton. Zooks! Jacob was a deceiver, -like his namesake in the Book. A' promised feyther he'd -gi' me good vittles and plenty on 'em, bein' a growen lad; -but sakes, I never got no meat save at third boilen; 'twas -like eatin' leather. A' said I was growen too fast, a' did, -and he'd keep me down. Pudden—I never put my lips to -pudden for two year, not once. I took down shutters at -zix i' the mornen, and put 'em up at eight o' nights; -betwixt and between I was pounden away at drugs, and -carryen parcels, and scrubben floors and nussen mistress' -babby: ay, what med 'ee think o' that? If so happened I -broke a bottle, or overslept five minutes—oons! there was -master a-strappen me to a hook in the wall he kept o' -purpose, and layen a birch over my shoulders and keepen -me on bread and water or turmuts not fit for a ox. I -dwindled crossways to a shadder, Master Harry, I did so, -and every week th' old villain made me write a letter to -feyther, sayen as how I was fat and flourishen like a green -bay tree. Do what a' would, however, I growed and -growed, at fourteen a long slip of a feller all arms and -legs. Two mortal year I put up wi' un; then I got tired. -One day, mistress was out, and I was rollen pills in the -little back shop, when master come in. He was in a -terrible passion, goodness alone knows what about. He -pitched into me for wasten his drugs and eatin' up all his -profits, and hit me with his cane, and sent me spinnen -agen the table, and knocked off his best chiney mortar, -and there 'twas on the floor, smashed to atomies. Bein' -his own doen, it made his temper wuss, it did, and he -caught me by the hair and said he'd skin me. I' fecks, I -were always a man o' peace, even as a boy, but I'd had -long sufferen enough, and now my peaceful blood was up. -I wriggled myself free—and there he was, flat on the -floor, and me a-sitten on him. He hollered and cussed, -for all he was a Puritan; and, haven respect unto my -neighbours, I stuffed a handkercher into his mouth. There -I sits, a-thinken what to do wi' un. 'Twas in for a -penny in for a pound wi' me then; I'd have to run, -'dentures or no 'dentures, and it seemed fair to have my -pen'orth afore I went. There was that hook I knowed so -well, and that strap hangen still and loose: 'I'll gi' un -a taste o' the birch he be so uncommon fond on,' thinks I. -So I hoists un up, and soon has un strapped ready; but -looken at un I thinks to myself: 'You be a poor wamblen -mortal arter all, skinny for all the pudden you eat. I'll -ha' mercy on your poor weak flesh.' Besides, I had -another notion. So I casts un loose and sits un on a -chair and straps un to chair-back, hands to sides.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You med have heard of Jacob Spinney's famous -mixture for pimples? Well, 'twas knowed all over Hants -and Wilts. 'Twas a rare sight o' market days to see the -farmers' wives a-troopen into the shop for bottles o' the -mixture. But th' odd thing was, Spinney hisself was -owner of a fair pimpled face, yet never did I know un -take a dose o' his own firm cure. 'I pity 'ee,' says I to -un, as he sat strapped to the chair; 'poor feller, wi' all -those pimples. Shall have a dose, poor soul.' Many's -the bottle I'd made up: 'twas brimstone and powder o' -crab and gentian root in syrup. Well, I mixed a dose all -fresh afore his eyes, and got a long wooden spoon, and -slipped the handkercher out o' his mouth and the dose in. -The ungrateful feller spets it out and begins to holler again; -so in goes the handkercher, and says I: 'Ye don't know -what's for your own good. Bean't it tasty enough? Ah, -Master Spinney, often and often 'ee've physicked me; -what's good for me without pudden will be better for -'ee with; you shall have a dose.' So I made un a dose -o' senna and jalap and ipecacuan, but I was slow with -the handkercher, and afore I could get the spoon in -he had his teeth clinched tight. But I hadn't nussed the -babby for nothen. I ups with finger and thumb and -pinches his nose; he opens his mouth for breath, and -in goes spoon, and sputter as he med he had to swaller, -he did.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, I was wild and headstrong in they young coltish -days. I bean't so fond o' pudden now. Not but what -they mixtures did Jacob Spinney a world o' good, for his -next prentice had a easier time nor me, steppen into his -master's business when he was laid in churchyard. </span><em class="italics">I</em><span> got -no good on 'em, to be sure, for I had to run away and try -another line o' life, and ha' been a rollen-stone ever since. -Ay well, 'tis all one to a man o' peace."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>During his narrative the breakfast had been finished.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, Sherry, when I'm out of sorts I'll come to you," -said Harry, rising. "Now, while you pack up, I'll go -a stroll up the hillside; there'll be a good view now the -day is clearing, and maybe I'll get a glimpse of Salisbury -spire."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He left the river-bank and strolled leisurely up a gentle -ascent, which gradually became steeper until it terminated -somewhat suddenly in a stretch of level ground. Fifty -yards from the edge rose a long grassy mound, a well-known -landmark in the neighbourhood. It was, in fact, -a barrow, dating centuries back into the dim ages—the -burial place, perhaps, of British warriors who had fought -and fallen in defence of their country against the Roman -invader. Harry had always felt a romantic interest in -these memorials of the past, and more than once had -stood by such a barrow, alone in the moonlight of a summer -night, while his imagination called up visions of far-off -forgotten things.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He sat down now with his back to the mound, and -allowed his eyes to rove over the prospect. Tradition -said that three counties were visible from this elevated -spot, and on a clear morning like this it seemed likely -enough that report said true. Far to the left, peeping -over the bare contour of Harnham Hill, rose the graceful -spire of Salisbury Cathedral, at least fifteen miles away -as the crow flies. His eye followed the winding course -of the little stream below him, losing it here and there -behind some copse or knoll, tracing it again to its junction -with a larger stream, till this in its turn was lost to view -amid the distant elm-bordered meadows. Nearer at hand -he saw the old Roman road, grass-grown and silent now, -bounding the park of Sir Godfrey Fanshawe, crossing the -stream by an ancient bridge, and running into the London -road at some invisible point to the right. It was a very -pleasing prospect, brilliant beneath the cloudless sky, and -freshened by the early morning showers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As he looked along the forsaken highway, once trodden -perhaps by the legions of Constantine the Great, his -glance was momentarily arrested by a small moving speck -in the distance. "Some wagon from one of Sir Godfrey's -home farms," he thought. It was approaching him, for it -passed out of sight into a clump of trees, then reappeared, -and was again hidden by an intercepting ridge. The road -was downhill; in fifteen or twenty minutes, perhaps, the -wagon would pass beneath him, at a point nearly three-quarters -of a mile away, where the highway skirted a belt -of trees perched on the side of a steep declivity. Between -him and the road lay a ditch which, as he knew, was apt -in winter-time to overflow on to the meadows and the -lower parts of the track, making a sticky swamp of the -chalky soil. But it was dry now, and the floodings were -only indicated by the more vivid green of the grass and -the tall reeds that filled the hollow on this side. On the -other side a strong stone wall edged the road, marking -the boundary of Sir Godfrey's park; it was overhung with -elms, from which at this moment Harry saw a congregation -of rooks soar away.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Thus idly scanning the roadway, all at once his eye lit -upon the figure of a horseman half concealed by the belt of -reeds in the hollow. He was motionless; his back was -towards Harry, his horse's head pointing towards the -road, from which he was completely screened by the reeds -and the willows.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What is he doing there?" thought Harry. He rose, -and walked towards the edge of the descent. Narrowly -scanning the brake, he now descried two other horsemen -within a few yards of the first, but so well concealed that -but for his quickened curiosity he would probably never -have discovered them. For all he knew, there might be -others. "What is their game?" His suspicion was -aroused; the vehicle he had seen approaching was perhaps -not a wagon; it might be a chaise belonging to Sir -Godfrey; it might be—— "Why, 'tis without a doubt Lord -Godolphin himself on his way to London, and coming -by the shortest cut." There was no need for further -speculation; in those days the inference was sure: a -carriage in the distance, a party of horsemen lurking in -a copse by the roadside—— "'Tis highway robbery—ah! the -Queen's purse!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Harry unconsciously smiled at the thought. His first -impulse was to warn the approaching travellers. But -the carriage was at present out of sight; he could not -make signals, and before he could reach the stretch of -road between the ambuscade and their prey, the travellers -would certainly be past, while he himself might be seen -by the waiting horsemen, and headed off as he crossed -a tract of open country. Moving downwards all the time, -he in a flash saw all that it was possible to do. The -stream passed under the roadway some twenty yards -beyond the spot where the horsemen were lying in wait; -the banks were reedy, and might screen an approach to -the copse beyond the wall. There was a bare chance, and -Harry took it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He raced downhill towards Sherebiah, who was sitting -on the bank still, placidly smoking his pipe; landscape had -no charm for him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sherry," said Harry in jerks, "Lord Godolphin or -someone is driving down the road; highwaymen hiding -in the reeds; in five or six minutes—come, come, we have -no time to lose."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then we'll go home along," said Sherry, putting his -pipe in his pocket as he rose.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nonsense! we can't slink away and leave them to be -robbed." Harry took Sherry by the arm to drag him -along.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What be the good? Fishen-rods bean't no match -for pistols, and bein' a man o' peace——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come, I can't wait. I'll go alone, then."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He released the man's arm and stepped into the stream. -Sherebiah hesitated for a moment; then, seeing that Harry -was in earnest, he dropped his tackle and strode forward, -saying:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Zooks, not if I knows it! I'm a man o' peace, sure -enough, but fairplay's a jewel. Have at the villains!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He followed Harry into the water. Side by side they -raced on, dodging the weeds, scrambling over occasional -rocks, slipping on the chalky bottom, making at top speed -for the bridge. As they approached this they went more -slowly, to avoid being heard. Fortunately, at the point -where the road crossed the stream there was a line of -rocks, over which the water plunged with a rustle and -clatter, drowning the sound of their footsteps. They had -to stoop low to avoid the moss-grown masonry of the -arch; as they emerged on the farther side they heard a -muffled exclamation from one of the horsemen, and climbing -the steep face of the tree-covered slope towards the -wall they heard a shot, then another, mingled with shouts -and the dull thuds of horses' hoofs on the turf-covered -road.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On the way Harry had explained his plan in panting -whispers. Running along now under cover of the wall, -they came opposite to the scene of the ambush.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now, Sherry, do your best," said Harry, as he -prepared to mount the wall.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Instantly a new clamour was added to the uproar in the -road.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"This way!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Shoot 'em!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Lash the noddy peaks!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Pinch their thropples!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Quoit 'em down!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Haick! haick!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>By this time Harry was on the wall, by favour of -Sherebiah's strong arm. A slug whizzed past his head and -sank with a thud into the trunk of a tree just behind; -next moment the horse-pistol from which it had been -discharged followed the shot, the butt grazing Harry's -brow. There was no time to take in the details of the -scene. Harry made a spring for the masked horseman -who had fired at him, two yards from the wall; but the -fellow, alarmed by the various shouts and the sudden -appearance of Sherebiah at Harry's side, dug the spurs -into his steed's flanks and galloped off down the road, -over the bridge, and out of sight. One of his companions -lay motionless on the road; the others had ridden away -at the first alarm from the wall.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Harry mopped his brow and looked about him. Lord -Godolphin stood upright in the carriage, his lips grimly -set, a smoking pistol in his hand. His son was on -foot with drawn sword; a postilion was crawling out of -the ditch all bemired, pale and trembling.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Odzooks!" cried my lord, "a welcome diversion!"</span></p> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 81%" id="figure-102"> -<span id="harry-makes-a-diversion"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="Harry makes a Diversion" src="images/img-030.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">Harry makes a Diversion</span></div> -</div> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was perfectly cool and collected, though his hat was -off and his wig awry. "A thousand thanks, my men. -Whew! 'twas in the nick of time. Where are the rest -of you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There are no more, my lord," said Harry, lifting his -cap.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No more! But the shouts, then?—I heard a dozen -shouting, at least. Are the rest on the other side of the -wall?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"All on this side, my lord," said Harry with a smile. -"Here is the mob."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He indicated Sherebiah, who touched his cap and bobbed -to his lordship.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Godolphin stared, then chuckled and guffawed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Egad! 'tis a rare flam. Frank, this fellow here did it -all, shouted for a dozen; by George, 'twas a mighty neat -trick! And, by George, I know your face; I saw you -yesterday, I believe! What's your name, man?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sherebiah Stand-up-and-bless Minshull, my lord," said -Sherry, "by the water o' baptism, your honour, for I was -born while old Rowley were in furren parts. If a'd been -born two year arter, my lord, I med ha' been chrisomed -wi' less piety."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I remember you, and the old gaffer your father—a -fine old fellow. Well, my man, your name suits me -better; 'tis for us to stand up and bless, eh, Frank? And -here's a guinea for you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sherebiah put his hands behind him and looked down at -the coin in my lord's hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nay, nay, my lord," he said slowly. "True, I did the -shouten, or most on't, but 'twas Master Harry his notion. -Pa'son's son, you see, my lord; know'd all the holy story -o' Gideon; says to me, 'Sherry,' says he, 'shout high and -low, bass and tribble, give it tongue,' says he; and I gi'd -it tongue, so I did."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Both gentlemen laughed heartily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I recognize you now," said my lord, turning to Harry, -who looked somewhat embarrassed. "Surely you are the -hero of yesterday's cricket match? You swing a straight -bat, my lad, and, stap me! you've a quick wit if you -devised this late surprise. How came you on the scene?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We'd been fishing yonder, my lord, and I chanced to -spy your carriage and the villains waiting here, almost at -the same time. It was clear what they were about, and as -there was no time to warn you we came along the stream, -and—Sherry shouted."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His smile as he said the last words met an answering -smile on Lord Godolphin's face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A mighty clever trick indeed—eh, Frank? We're -beholden to you. 'Twas a mere chance that I sent my -mounted escort on ahead by the highway to arrange a -change of horses, never thinking to be waylaid at this -time o' day."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, 'twas the Queen's purse, my lord," struck in -Sherebiah. "To know Queen's purse-bearer were a-comen -along old road like a common mortal, 'twere too much for -poor weak flesh and blood."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The ignorant bumpkins mistook your meaning," said -Frank.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So it appears. But come, you're the parson's son, I -believe. I forget your name?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Harry Rochester, my lord."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Going to be a parson yourself, eh?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am going up to Oxford in October, my lord; my -father wishes me to take orders."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah! And your own wish, eh?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Harry hesitated.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come, out with it, my lad."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I had thought, my lord, I should like to carry the -Queen's colours; but 'tis a vain thought; my father's living -is small, and——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And commissions in the Queen's army sell high. 'Tis -so, indeed. Well, I heard something of your father last -night at Sir Godfrey's; you can't do better than follow his -example. And hark 'ee, if ever you want a friend, when -you've taken your degrees, you know, come and see me; -I owe you a good turn, my lad; and maybe I'll have a -country vicarage at my disposal."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thank you, my lord!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And now we must get on. Dickory, you coward, -help these two friends of ours to remove that tree. The -villains laid their ambush well; you see they felled this -larch at an awkward part of the road."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And I thowt 'twas Simon forester a-choppen," said -Sherebiah, as he walked towards the tree.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What shall we do with this ruffian on the road?" -said Frank Godolphin. "He appears to be stone dead. -'Twas a good shot, sir."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Leave the villain. You'll lay an information before -Sir Godfrey or another of your magistrates, young master -parson. Did you recognize any of the gang?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, my lord. I only saw the masked man. Perhaps -Sherry was more fortunate."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not me neither," said Sherebiah hastily. He had -gone to the fallen man, looked in his face, and turned -him over. "'Twas all too quick and sudden, and my -eyes was nigh dazed wi' shouten."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, well, Sir Godfrey's is near at hand; go and -inform him, and he will scour the country. We must -push on."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The tree was removed; the bedraggled and crestfallen -postilions resumed their saddles, and with a parting salutation -my lord drove off. Harry stood looking thoughtfully -after the departing carriage.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Master Harry," said Sherebiah, coming up to him, -"this be a bad business. The man bean't dead."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He's saved for the hangman, then."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, and who med 'ee think he be?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You do know him, then! What does this mean, Sherry?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, I be a man o' peace, and there's mischief to -come o' this day's piece o' work, sure as I'm Sherebiah -Stand-up-and-bless. 'Tis black John Simmons, Cap'n -Aglionby's man."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A scoundrel his master may well be rid of."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, if the man were dead! But he be alive; the lord -didn't shoot'n at all; 'a fell off his horse and bashed his -nob; an' he's got a tongue, Master Harry."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, what then? If he rounds on his fellows, so -much the better. What are you afraid of, Sherry?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I bean't afeard, not I; but the Cap'n——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He paused, and Harry looked at him enquiringly. -Sherebiah turned away.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah! little sticks kindle fires, little sticks kindle fires, -they do."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="master-and-man"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER III</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">Master and Man</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="small">A Midnight Summons—A Warm Reception—Righteous -Indignation—Aglionby Retorts—The Berkeley Arms—A -Village Sensation—The Constable's -Story—Aspersions—Unimpeachable -References—Waylaid—Squaring Accounts—The Captain -Rides Away</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The clock of St. Mary's church had just chimed the first -quarter after midnight, and the deep note of the lowest -bell was dying away over the tree-tops, when the -sound was intercepted by the distant clink and clatter -of iron-shod hoofs on the hard road, approaching from -the direction of Salisbury. The horse's pace was slow, -and there was something in the fall of the hoofs that -betokened a jaded steed. It was a clear calm night; -the air carried every sound distinctly; and nothing broke -the stillness save the footfalls of the horse, an occasional -murmur from the birds in the trees, and the whirr of -wings as a solitary owl, disturbed by the nocturnal rider, -left its search for food and rustled back to its nook in -the tower.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The horseman came presently to the church, wheeled -round to the right, and urged his flagging beast along -the road leading to the manor house. Arriving at the -park, he flung himself from the saddle, hitched the bridle -over his left arm, and turned the handle of the massive -iron gate. But there was no yielding to his push: the -gate was locked. The man shook and rattled the handle -impatiently, to assure himself that he was not mistaken, -then turned aside with an inarticulate rumble of anger, -and went to the lodge, a low ivy-grown cottage abutting -on the road. He tapped on the small latticed window -with the butt of his riding-whip; there was no reply. The -horse by his side hung its head and breathed heavily; it -was jaded to the point of exhaustion. Again he rapped -on the glass, growling between his teeth; and when his -summons still met with no response he dealt so smart -a blow that one of the thick square panes fell in with a -crash. A moment later a voice was heard from within.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Away wi' 'ee! Who be you, a-breaken an honest -man's rest at this fearsome time o' night?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A night-capped head appeared at the hole, just visible -in the faint illumination of the clear summer sky.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Open the gate, Dick," said the rider impatiently. -"Ods my life, will you keep me waiting here, will you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Be it you, Cap'n?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Zounds, man, must I tell you my name? Ha' ye -never seen me before! Stir your old stumps, or by the -lord Harry——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Squire give orders t' gate were to be locked and -kep' locked; not a man to come in, not a soul. They's -my orders, ay sure, Cap'n."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Orders! orders!" cried the other in a burst of passion. -"Adslidikins, if you're not at the gate with the key -inside of two minutes I'll put a slug through your jolt -head, you mumper, you miching rogue you!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And indeed Captain Aglionby displayed a monstrous -blunderbuss, and pointed it full in the face of the scared -lodge-keeper. For an instant the man hesitated; then, -muttering to himself, he disappeared from the window, -and soon afterwards emerged from the side door within -the palings, his night-gown showing beneath a heavy -driving coat. He came towards the gate with the -key—a bent old man, tottering and mumbling.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I shall lose my place; Squire give orders, a' did, not -a soul to come in; to drag a aged man from his nat'ral -sleep an' lose him his place an' all; well, I was forced; -no man can zay as I warn't forced; mumper as I be, I -vallies my little bit o' life, and——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hold your tongue, you old flap-eared dotard, and -make haste, or I'll pink your soul. Don't you see the -jade's dead-beat; 'tis time I stabled her."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The man turned the key and slowly opened the gate. -With a grunt the captain led his horse through, and, -without so much as a glance at the lodge-keeper, proceeded -up the quarter-mile drive leading to the house.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Old Nick's not abed," he said to himself as he cast -his eye over the house front. A light shone from a -window in the turret over the porch. "The old -nightbird! Lock me out! Oons!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He threw the bridle over an iron post at the side of -the entrance, and walked round a projecting wing of the -building till he came to a small door in the wall. He -turned the iron ring, pushed, rattled; the door was fast -shut. Cursing under his breath, he was proceeding -towards the servants' quarters when he heard the creak -of a key turning, and, wheeling round, came to the postern -just as it was opened by Squire Berkeley himself, his tall, -lean, bent figure enwrapped from neck to heel in a black -cassock-like garment, a skull-cap of black velvet covering -his head. He held a lighted candle; his piercing eyes -flashed in the darkness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hey, Squire!" cried the captain in a tone of forced -good-humour, "I had much ado to rouse old Dick. 'Tis -late to be sure; but if you'll give me the key of the stables -I'll settle Jenny for the night and get to bed."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He made as if to enter, but Mr. Berkeley spread himself -across the narrow doorway.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who are you, sirrah," he said, "to break into my -park against my express orders?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was contempt in his cold incisive tones, and -anger with difficulty curbed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why now——" Aglionby began.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who are you, I say? And what am I, that my orders -are defied, and my house made a common inn, a toping -house for you and your toss-pot ruffians? Go—go, I say!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The captain was for a moment staggered; the old man's -manner left no room for doubt that he was in earnest. -But Aglionby was too old a campaigner to cry off so -easily. In a tone half-conciliatory, half-aggrieved he -said—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Fair and softly, Squire! this is but scurvy treatment -of a tired man. Look you, I've been in the saddle this -livelong day; the mare's well-nigh foundered; and for -myself—gads so, I could eat an ox and drink a hogshead. -To-morrow, in a few hours, I'll bid ye good-bye—for -a time, if ye want a change; but to-night—no, Squire, -'tis not hospitable of you, 'tis not indeed."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You dally with me!" cried the squire, the hand that -held the candle shaking with passion. "You set no foot -within this door—now, nor ever again. Begone, while -there is time."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"While there is time! Look ye, Master Berkeley, I -will not brook insults from you. Yesterday you must -put an affront on me in the presence of my lord Godolphin, -shoving me out of the way as I were a leper, and at the -very moment, stap me! when I might ha' paid court to -his lordship, and got the chance o' my life. Adsbud, I -was not good enough to approach my lord, to accost him, -have speech with him——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"An omission you have since repaired," interjected the -old man with a meaning look. The captain started, and -there was a perceptible interval before he resumed, in a -tone still more blusterous—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ods my life, what mean you now? You took care I -should not meet my lord in your company; and, i' faith, he -showed he wanted none of that neither."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hold your peace and begone!" cried the squire in a -fury. "You think I know nothing of your villainies? -How many times have I harboured you—ay, saved you -perchance from the gallows! How many times have -you eat my food, rid my horses, browbeat my servants, -roistered it in my house, till I could bear with you no -longer, and then betaken yourself to your evil practices -abroad, consorted with villains, run your neck well-nigh -into the hangman's noose, and then come back with -contrite face and vows of amendment, to fawn and bluster -and bully again? Out upon you! Your rapscallion of -a servant is even now laid by the heels, and to-morrow -will have to answer to the charge of waylaying the Lord -Treasurer. He's a white-livered oaf, and his tongue will -wag, and you'll companion him before Fanshawe, and -you'll swing on the same gibbet."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At the mention of his man's plight the captain's face -had fallen; but when Mr. Berkeley's tirade was ended he -broke into a laugh.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ha! ha! Squire, now I come to understand you. 'Tis -your own skin you have a care for! Ha! ha! I might -have known it. I am to be haled before Sir Godfrey, -am I? and to hold my tongue, am I? and to be mum -about certain little affairs in the life of Master Nicolas -Berkeley—that paragon of virtue, that pampered, patched -old interloper, am I? By the lord Harry, if I stand in -manacles before Sir Godfrey, you shall bear me company, -you painted pasteboard of a saint!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Berkeley's pale face blanched with fury. For a moment -he was incapable of speech. Then he stepped forward a -pace; the hand holding the candle shook so, that the -grease sputtered upon his gown. His voice came in -vehement passionate whispers:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You threaten me! Do your worst—I defy you!—Back -to your wallow, bully!—begone!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He suddenly withdrew within the doorway, slammed the -door, and bolted it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Whew!" whistled the captain, left standing outside. -"'Tis the worst passion ever I saw him in. Defies me! -Well, Master Nicolas, would I could afford to take you -at your word! A plague on Simmons! I thought he -was dead. He'll split, sure enough, and there's an end of -Ralph Aglionby. Jenny, my dear, you're a sorry jade, but -you'll have to bear my carcase till we're out of harm's way. -We have five or six hours before the world's astir. Do -your best, my girl, and we'll cheat 'em yet."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Captain Aglionby led his tired steed down the drive to -the gate, roused Dick the lodge-keeper with scant -ceremony, and in a few minutes was riding slowly towards -the village. As he came into the principal street, he was -surprised to notice that the only inn was lit up, a most -unusual circumstance at that time of night. The door -stood open, and there were lights in several of the -rooms on the ground floor. A feeling of apprehension -seized upon him; he could not but connect these lively -signs with the events of the morning, and especially with -the capture of his man. Could the fellow have blabbed -already? He was just making up his mind to spur the -mare past the inn, over the bridge, on to the London road, -when two persons came to the door and caught sight of -him. One was Mistress Joplady, the buxom hostess; the -other William Nokes, the village constable. It was too -late to evade them: indeed he heard the hostess exclaim, -"Well, I never! 'tis the Cap'n hisself, sure." Resolving -like a wise man to make the best of it, he rode up to the -door, dismounted, and, swaggering, with his usual air of -assurance said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Egad, mistress, I'm glad to find you afoot. My mare's -dead-beat, has carried me nigh forty miles this day; send -Tom ostler to stable her, like a good soul; and give me a -bite and a bed. I didn't care about disturbing the squire -at this time o' night."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The captain was no favourite with good Mistress Joplady, -but she received him now with something more than her -usual urbanity.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come away in, Cap'n Aglionby," she said. "Sure -your name was in our very mouths. Strange things be -doing—ay, strange things in Winton Simmary; bean't it -so, William Nokes? Take the cap'n into the parlour, -William; a few souls be there, Cap'n, not fit company for -the likes o' you, to be sure, but they'll tell 'ee summat as'll -stir your blood, they will so. Tom'll see to Jenny, so be -easy."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Captain Aglionby followed the constable into the parlour, -where a group of the village worthies were assembled. -They were neither smoking nor drinking, a sure sign that -they had something momentous to talk about. A silence -fell upon the company as the captain clanked into the -room, and one or two of the more active-minded of them -threw a quick glance at each other, which the new-comer -did not fail to note.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A fine night, men," said the captain jovially.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, 'tis so."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And a late hour to find the Berkeley Arms open."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, 'tis latish, sure enough."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Any news from the army in Flanders? A post from -London, eh?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nay, not 'zackly that."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Odzooks! speak up, men," cried the captain -impatiently. "Why are they all mumble-chopped to-night, -mistress?" he asked, turning to the hostess, who had -followed him with bread and cheese and beer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, they be pondering strange things," returned -Mrs. Joplady. "Tell the cap'n all the long story, William -Nokes."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The constable, fingering the hat in his hand, looked for -sympathy into the stolid faces of his fellows, cleared his -throat, and began:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Cap'n, your sarvant. Eight o'clock this mornin', or -mebbe nine—'twixt eight and nine, if the truth was -told—comes Long Tom from the Grange, Sir Godfrey's man, as -ye med know, Cap'n. Says he to me, 'Constable,' says he, -'Sir Godfrey commands 'ee as a justice o' the peace to -bring your staff and irons and other engines,' says he, -'up along to Grange, wi'out remorse or delay, and arrest a -prisoner in the Queen's name.' You may think what a turn -it gi' me, souls, so early in the mornin'. 'Be he voilent?' -says I. 'Can I arrest the villain all alone by myself?' 'Ay -sure,' says he; 'there's no knowin' what a tough job -'twould be an he were sound and hearty, but he's dazed, so -he be, wi' a crack in the nob, and won't give no trouble to -no mortal constable, not a bit,' says he. 'A crack in the -nob,' says he; didn't he, souls?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A murmur of assent came from the group.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So I ups and goos wi' Long Tom hotfoot to the -Grange, and Tom he tells me by the way the longs and -shorts on't. Seems 'twas Sherry Minshull as cracked -his nob, leastways he picked un up, he and young -master pa'son betwixt 'em, an' hoisted him on a cart o' -Farmer Leake's, an' so carried un to Grange and laid un -afore Sir Godfrey. 'Twas highway robbery, Cap'n, a-took -in the very act, a-stoppen the carriage o' the high lard as -come this way yesterday, or day afore, as 'ee med say, -seein' 'tis mornin' now by the rights on't. And Sir Godfrey -commits un, he do, dazed as he were wi' the crack in the -nob, and hands un over to the law, and says, 'Constable,' -says he, 'keep the knave fast in the lock-up, an' hold un -till I gets word from my Lard Godolphin in Lun'on.' They -be his words, Cap'n."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, well, cut your story short, man. Adsheart, -ye've more words than matter."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, but wait to th' end, wait to th' end," put in a -voice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The end of a rope 'twill be, and not for one neither," -added another.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The constable looked a little uncomfortable.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So I had un fast in the lock-up, Cap'n," he went on, -"and 'twas the talk o' the village all day long. Squire -himself heard on't, and down he come, so he do, and -bein' hisself a justice o' the peace he goos into the -lock-up and zees the man, and axes un questions, not -for my ears, me bein' a constable; nay, I stood guard -at the door; and when Squire coom out he says to me, -'Constable,' says he, 'keep a good guard on un; he -deserves hangen, ay, and his mates too.' Never seed I -Squire so mad-like; 'twas 'cos it was a lard, maybe, and -on his own ground, as 'ee med say."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, and nearer nor that," said a voice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The captain put down the tankard from which he was -quaffing, and glared round the faces. They were blank -as the wall behind them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And now what'll he say?" pursued the constable. "He -were mad afore, ay sure; now he'll ramp and roar worse -nor the lion beast at Salisbury Fair. Ye med not believe -it, Cap'n, but 'tis true for all that; the godless villain ha' -dared Squire an' Sir Godfrey an' me an' all; ha' broke his -bonds an' stole away, like a thief i' the night, as the Book -says."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What!" cried the captain, leaning forward and thumping -the table. "Escaped, has he?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A' has so, like a eel off the hook."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ha! ha! Stap me! eels are slippery things. But -'tis a rub for you, master constable. You'll lose your -place, i' faith, you will."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why now, it be no sin o' mine. I left un snug in -lock-up, I did, door double-locked and bar up, an' went -to take my forty winks like a honest poor man; an' no -sooner my back turned than out skips the pris'ner, like -Simon Peter in the story. There be witchcraft in't, an' -that 'ee ought to know, Cap'n, seein' as the villain be -your own sarvant."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Eh, fellow?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sakes alive, I thowt as 'ee knowed that all the time! -Sure 'twas John Simmons, your honour's own body-slave, -so to speak. An' I was main glad to see 'ee, Cap'n, 'cause -now 'ee know un for what he is, 'ee'll help me to cotch -un, in the Queen's name."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Knows where he be, I'll be bound," said one of the -group in a low tone. The captain sprang from his chair, -ran round the table, and, before the speaker could defend -himself, he caught him by the throat and hurled him to -the floor.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Zounds, loon!" he cried in a passion, "what do you -mean? Will you affront me, eh? will you mouth your -cursed insults to my very face? Odzooks, I'll slit your -weazand, hound, and any man of you that dares a hint -o' the sort, so 'ware all!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The men looked abashed and uncomfortable; the hostess -was pale with apprehension, and the constable edged -away from the irate captain. His burst of passion -over, he turned to Mrs. Joplady and spoke in quieter tones.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I brook no insolence, mistress. I don't answer for -my servant's deeds behind my back. I've been away all -day, as poor Jenny will bear me witness; was I to know -my fool of a servant would play highwayman in my -absence? 'Tis a useful fellow, civil, too, beyond most; -I picked him up in London; he was in truth commended -to me by no less than his grace the Duke of Ormond, -who tapped me on the shoulder in the Piazza at Covent -Garden, and said, 'Aglionby, my bawcock, you want a -servant; I know the very man for you!' Could I suspect -a man after that? How he got mixed up in this business -beats me. And as for helping master constable to repair -his carelessness—adsbud, 'tis not likely. The man in -truth is no longer servant of mine. I am on my way -to serve the Queen in Flanders, and this very day -arranged with my friend Sir Rupert Verney to take the -fellow off my hands. You may hang him, for me!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There now, Sam," said the hostess, turning to the -man who had been felled, and was now at the door -glowering; "your tongue runs away wi' 'ee. Beg the -cap'n's pardon, and don't go for to make a ninny o' -yourself."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Never mind, my good woman," said Aglionby loftily. -"The yokel knows no better. Now, I'm tired out; give -me a bed, good soul, for I must away at sunrise—and -egad, 'tis past one o'clock! Good-night to 'ee, men; and -I hope Sir Godfrey will forgive you, constable."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He went from the room, and soon afterwards the hostess -bade the villagers get to their beds, and closed the inn for -the short remnant of the night.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Before seven o'clock next morning the captain was on -horseback. The ground was wet; it had been drizzling -for several hours, but a misty sun was now struggling -up the sky, and Tom ostler foretold a fine day. The -captain rode off, answering with a bold stare the -suspicious and lowering glances of the few villagers who -were on the spot. He was in high spirits; the anxieties -of the past night were gone; and as he rode he hummed -a careless tune. He had ridden but little more than a -mile when, from an intersecting lane, a man stepped out -and gripped the horse's reins.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Get off that there horse!" he said bluntly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Gads so, Sherry, you gave me quite a turn," said the -captain with unusual mildness. "Don't hinder me, man; -I'm off to Flanders, and, i' faith, that's where you ought to -be yourself, if all was known. Come, what's the meaning o't?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Get off that there horse!" repeated Sherebiah. "I'm -a man o' peace, I be, and I settles all scores prompt."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a look of determination in his eyes, and in his -right hand he grasped a knobby cudgel.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Right! but we've no accounts to settle.—What!" he -cried, as he saw Sherebiah's cudgel raised, "you play the -bully, eh? Gadzooks, I'll ferk ye if——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was drawing his sword, but the cudgel fell with a -resounding whack upon his knuckles, and with a cry of -pain he scrambled to the ground and stood, a picture of -sullen rage, before his intercepter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll thank 'ee for your pistols," said Sherebiah, -removing them from the holsters as he spoke. "Nay, don't -finger your sword; I be a man o' peace, and you know -my play with the quarterstaff. Jenny, old girl, crop your -fill by the roadside while I have a reckonen wi' Cap'n -Aglionby." He laid a curious stress upon the title. "Now, -Ralph, you be comen wi' me into wood yonder. 'Tis there -we'll settle our score."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Seizing the captain with his left hand, he led him down -the lane, through a gap in the hedge, into a thin copse -of larches, until he came to a narrow glade. Aglionby -assumed an air of jocular resignation; but that he was -ill at ease was proved by the restless glances he gave -Sherebiah out of the corner of his eye.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Off wi' your coat!" said Sherebiah, having reached -the centre of the glade. "Off wi't! I be gwine to -pound 'ee; you can defend yourself, but you'm gwine to -be pounded whether or no."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Confound you, man, what have I done to you? Why -the——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Off wi't, off wi't! Least said soonest mended. Great -barkers be no biters, so it do seem; doff your coat, Cap'n -Aglionby!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, if you will!" cried the captain, with a burst of -passion. "I'll comb your noddle, I'll trounce you, for an -insolent canting runagate booby!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He flung his coat on the wet grass; Sherebiah laid down -the cudgel and followed his example.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come on, Cap'n Aglionby!" he said. "'Tis not, as -'ee med say, a job to my liken, trouncen a big grown -man like you; but 't ha' got to be done, for your good and -my own peace o' mind. So the sooner 'tis over the better."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>To a casual onlooker the two would have seemed very -unequally matched. The captain stood at least a head -taller than his opponent, and was broad in proportion. -But he was puffy and bloated; Sherebiah, on the other -hand, though thick-set, was hard and agile.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As if anxious to finish an uncongenial task with the least -delay, he forced matters from the start. The captain had -no lack of bull-dog courage, and he still possessed the -remnant of great physical strength. To an ordinary -opponent he would have proved even yet no mean antagonist; -and when, after a few sharp exchanges, Sherebiah's -punishing strokes roused him to fury, he rained upon the -smaller man a storm of blows any one of which, had it got -home, might have felled an ox. But Sherebiah parried -with easy skill, and continued to use his fists with -mathematical precision. Once or twice he allowed the captain, -now panting and puffing, to regain his wind, and when -the burly warrior showed a disposition to lengthen the -interval he brought him back to the business in hand with -a cheery summons.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now, Cap'n Aglionby," he would say, "let's to 't -again. Come, man, 'twill soon be over!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At last, beside himself with rage, the captain attempted -to close with and throw his opponent. He could scarcely -have made a more unfortunate move. For a few moments -the two men swung and swayed; then Aglionby described -a semicircle over Sherebiah's shoulder, and fell with a -resounding thud to the ground. Neither combatant was -aware that for some time a spectator had been silently -watching them. Harry Rochester, coming whistling -through the trees, had halted in surprise, at the edge -of the glade, as his eyes took in the scene.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There now, 'tis over and done," said Sherebiah, stooping -to pick up his coat. "That score's wiped off. Stand -on your feet, man! And I'll trouble 'ee for your sword."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The captain staggered to his feet. He was in no -condition to refuse the victor's demand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sherebiah took the weapon and broke it across his knee. -From his own pocket he then took the captain's pistols. -He carefully drew their charges, and handed them back.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now, hie 'ee to Flanders," he said. "You've done -more fighten this mornin' than you'll ever do there. You'll -find Jenny on the road."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The captain glared at him, and seemed about to reply. -But he thought better of it, and with a vindictive glare -walked slowly away.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What's it all about, Sherry?" said Harry, stepping -forward when Aglionby had disappeared.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, that be 'ee, sir? 'Twas only a little small matter -o' difference 'twixt Cap'n Aglionby and me. We're quits now."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You'll have to get Mistress Joplady to give you a raw -steak for your eye."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay sure, Cap'n did get in a hit or two," replied Sherebiah -placidly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I didn't know you were such a fighter."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sherebiah gave him a quick look out of his uninjured eye.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nay, I bean't a fighter, not me," he said. "I'm a man -o' peace; I be so."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="mynheer-jan-grootz-and-another"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER IV</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">Mynheer Jan Grootz and Another</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="small">The Gaffer Chops Logic—In Print—The London -Coach—Simple Annals—A Village Hampden—Bereft—An -Offer of Service—A Hearty Send-off—Outside -Passengers—Introductions—Contractor to the -Forces—Followed—The Man on the Road—Sherebiah Muses</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>It was a dull, damp day towards the end of November, -a little more than four months after Captain Aglionby's -unhappy departure from Winton St. Mary. There was -again great bustle at the Berkeley Arms; Mistress -Joplady's ample face was red with exertion, and her voice, -when she gave directions to her servants, was raised to -an acrimonious pitch far from usual with her. The whole -village appeared to be gathered either within or without -the inn. Gaffer Minshull was there, seated with his back -to the wall and leaning on his inseparable staff. Lumpy, -Soapy Dick, Long Robin the tanner, Old Everlasting the -miller, stood in a group about the door, talking to the -ostler, who stood guard, with arms akimbo, over four -brimming pails of water ranged along the wall.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Soft Jemmy was standing a yard or two away, watching -with open mouth a man who, straddling across a -step-ladder, was smearing the ancient sign-board with -daubs of black paint, obliterating every trace of the crude -heraldic design that had marked the inn's connection with -the lord of the manor. When the board was one -unbroken black, the painter descended the ladder with his -brush and can, winked at Jemmy, and went into the inn -to "mix the flavours", as he said in passing. The -half-witted youth contemplated his handiwork for some minutes -in mild surprise; then he walked towards old Minshull -and addressed him timorously:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Gaffer, I'm afeard my poor yead won't stand the -wonder on't, but it med do me good to know why John -painter ha' covered that noble pictur wi' the colour o' sut."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, boy, black's for sorrow, as 'ee med know wi'out -tellen an 'ee weren't so simple, and 'tis a black day for -Winton Simmary, so 'tis."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why be it more black to-day than 'tis a-Sunday?" -asked the youth. "'Tis Tuesday, gaffer, bean't it? and -new pa'son didn't holler it in church for a holy day."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Boy, your poor yead won't stand high things, 'tis true, -but 'ee know young pa'son be off to Lun'on town to-day, -an' that's why all the souls be here, to see the last on un."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jemmy looked up again at the defaced sign-board, -puzzling his poor brains to find some connection between -it and the departure of "young pa'son".</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Tis a shame, gaffer," said Honest John, "to deceive -the poor lad, when you know the sign bean't painted out -for no such thing."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, there now," returned old Minshull, "bean't it -all one? I axe 'ee that, souls. Young pa'son be a-gwine -to Lun'on 'cause his poor feyther's dead an' gone; Pa'son -Rochester be dead an' gone 'cause o' the fight; an I -weren't afeard on un, I'd say the fight were all along o' -Squire; and Mis'ess Joplady ha' changed the ancient sign -of th' inn 'cause her can't abear to think on't. Bean't that -gospel truth, souls all?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The group looked impressed with the old man's logic. -Mistress Joplady, coming for a moment to the door, had -overheard his concluding sentences.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Tis true," she said, wiping away a tear. "I never -liked Squire; nobody never did as I ever heerd on; but -when pa'son died I couldn't abear him. One thing I'm -thankful for from the bottom o' my heart, and that is, -that my house is college property, like the church, and -I can snap my vingers at Squire, and I do." She suited -the action to the word. "Has been the Berkeley Arms -for a hunnerd years, but 'twill be so no longer. When -paint's dry, up goos the yead o' Queen Annie, bless her! a -poor soul as ha' lost all her childer, like myself, and -the Queen's Head it'll be for ever more."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, things be main different in village now, sure," -said Lumpy. "To think what mighty changes come in -a little time! Zeems only a few days sin' young pa'son -won that noble match—you mind, souls, the day the lord's -carriage broke under the weight of the Queen's purse—ay, -the day afore he were stopped in old road. I never -understood the rights o' that bit o' work. Gaffer, hav 'ee got -that printed paper ye read, where the Lun'on talk be given -like the words of a book?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Old Minshull slowly drew from his pocket a folded sheet, -rather dirty, worn at the edges, and falling apart at the -folds. He opened it out with great care, and spread it -on his knees.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's he," said Lumpy. "Gaffer, you be a scholard; -read it out loud to us again."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, an' don't need spectacles neither," said Minshull -proudly; "well, listen, souls."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Very slowly, and with as much deliberation as though -he were reading it for the first instead of the hundredth -time, and moving his forefinger along the line, the old -man began to read the account of the attempted robbery -of Lord Godolphin which the </span><em class="italics">Daily Courant</em><span> presented to -the London public a week after the event. The names -of the principal persons concerned appeared with a dash -between the initial and final letters, and Godolphin's was -read by Minshull as "Lard G line n". After briefly -relating the incident, the writer of the paragraph added:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Tis said the Prisoner that broke jail was a Servant of a -Captain A——y, a Guest at that time of Esq. N——s B——y. -The gallant Captain's Commission (as it is credibly reported) is -not under the seal of her Gracious Majestie, or King William lately -Deceas'd of Noble Memorie, but of the Czar of Muscovy. 'Tis -vouch'd by some 'twas none other than the Great Cham."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, that's print," said Soapy Dick at the conclusion -of the reading. "The 'Cap'n A line y' was Cap'n -Aglionby sure enough, an' some did zay as how 'twas -he let the pris'ner out o' lock-up, and so brought shame -to Will'm Nokes."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, an' some did say as how the Cap'n hisself made -one o' the cut-purse rogues as waylaid the lard," said -Honest John.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Old wives' tales," said Minshull. "My boy Sherry -be wise for his years, an' he says Cap'n couldn't ha' let -prisoner out, 'cause a' were miles away at the time. And -as for Cap'n bein' on the road—why, when Sir Godfrey -coom in all the might o' the law to 'stablish the truth, -Squire up and said as how Cap'n was abed and asleep on -that early mornen when the deed was done."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay true, Squire said so; but did a' take his dyin' oath -like a common man? Tell me that, souls."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At this moment the conversation was interrupted, and -the villagers were thrilled into excitement by the distant -tootle of a horn.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Here be coach at last," cried the ostler. "Ten minutes -behind time, and no sign of young Master Rochester. Giles -coachman won't wait, not he."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But as the coach came in sight at a bend of the road, -two figures were seen hastening along from the direction -of the rectory. One was a tall youthful form clad in -black from his low felt hat to his buckle shoes. His -steinkirk was black, and its fringed ends were tucked -into a black waistcoat. Black were his plain drugget -coat and breeches, black also his woollen stockings. -Nothing redeemed the sable hue of his garments save -his cambric shirt, the white front of which was much -exposed, in the fashion of the time. Harry Rochester's -face was pale, its expression sad.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His companion, a head shorter than himself, was Sherebiah -Minshull, clad in the sober brown of ordinary country -wear, and trudging along steadily under the weight of -a fair-sized valise. Winter or summer, his appearance -never varied: his firm round cheeks were always ruddy, -his blue eyes always bright; and his expression, now as -always, was that of placid self-content, well becoming "a -man of peace".</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The two drew nearer to the inn, where the group had -by this time been enlarged by the accession of the greater -part of the village population, women and children, -workers and loafers, mingled in one interested throng. -As Giles Appleyard was at that moment explaining to -the passenger at his side, he had never seen such a crowd -at Winton St. Mary before, though he had driven the -coach, good weather and bad, for fifteen years come -Christmas. It reminded him of the crowd at Salisbury Fair.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And seein' as how I've been laid up wi' a bad leg for -two months," he added, "I'm behind the times, I be; -news travels slow to them as don't drive coaches, and, -i' feck, I know no more than the dead what this mortal -big crowd do mean, i' feck I don't."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But many voices were ready to tell him when, having -pulled up his four steaming horses at the inn door, he -descended with grave deliberation from his perch, saluted -Mistress Joplady with the gallantry of the road, and -entered her house "to warm his nattlens", as he said, -with a tankard of her home-brewed. Young pa'son was -a-gwine to Lun'on town! It seemed a slight cause for such -an unwonted scene; in reality it was a momentous event -in the life of Harry Rochester and in the history of his -village. Small things bulk large in the imagination of -rustic folk; a journey to London came within the -experience of few of them; and the departure of young -pa'son, following so closely upon two such notable events -as the cricket match and the attack on the Lord High -Treasurer, had already furnished unfailing material for -gossip, and would be the theme of comment and -speculation for a year to come.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was all along of old Squire, they said; and the coachman, -for the first and only time in his career, delayed his -departure for some minutes after the horses had been -watered, in order to listen to the story. A few days after -Lord Godolphin's flying visit, Squire Berkeley had fenced -in a piece of land which time out of mind had been -regarded as part of the village common. Old Gaffer -Minshull, whose memory went back fifty years, was called up -to tell how in the year '53, just before Christmas, the then -parson had held a prayer-meeting on that very spot to -celebrate the making of Noll Crum'ell Lord Protector; -he remembered it well, for it lasted five hours, and old -Jenny Bates fainted on the ground and took to her bed -from that day.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, 'twas a holy spot, an' Squire med ha' feared to -touch un, as the old ancient folk feared to lay hands on -the Lord's holy ark; but, bless 'ee, Squire bean't afeard -o' nothen, nay, not o' the still small voice pa'son do zay be -inside on us all."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When the ground was fenced in the good parson was -disposed to carry the matter to law. But though he had -already won one case (a matter of right of way) in the -courts, the only result was that the squire had carried it -to appeal, trusting in the power of the purse. The angry -villagers therefore determined to take the law into their -own hands. Without consulting the rector, they -assembled one evening towards the end of October, and -hastening in a body to the disputed space, began to make short -work of the new fencing. But the squire had got wind -of their intention, by some witchcraft of his own, they -believed: he soon appeared on the scene at the head of -a gang of his own men. There was a fight; heads were -broken, and the squire's party were getting badly mauled -when the rector suddenly arrived and rushed between the -combatants.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, poor pa'son, I zee un now, I do," said Gaffer -Minshull feelingly, "goen headlong into the rout wi' all -his petticoats flyen! A fine upstanden man was pa'son, -as ought to ha' been a man o' war. A' stood in the eye of -Squire, an' Squire opened on un, gave tongue to a deal -o' hot an' scorchen words, a' did. But pa'son took no -heed to'n, not he: he spoke up fair an' softly to Squire's -men, and wi' that way o' his a' made 'em feel all fashly -like; a' had a won'erful way wi' 'n, had pa'son; an' they -made off wi' their broken heads, they did; an' Squire was -left a-frothen an' cussen as he were a heathen Frenchman -or Turk. Ah, poor pa'son! Such a fine sperit as he had, -his frame were not built for 't; wi' my own aged eyes I -seed un go blue at the lips, and a' put his hand on his -bosom, a' did, an' seemed as if all the breath was blowed -out of his mortal body; and a' went home-along a stricken -soul, and two days arter his weak heart busted, an' young -pa'son had no feyther—ay, poor soul, no feyther, an' my -boy Sherebiah be nigh varty-vour, and here I be. 'Tis -strange ways Them above has wi' poor weak mortals—strange -ways, ay sure!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Berkeley took advantage of the rector's death to -pay off old scores. The legal actions which Mr. Rochester -had taken, on behalf of his flock, collapsed for want of -further funds; he had already seriously impoverished -himself by his open-hearted generosity; and when the squire -came down on the dead man's estate for the law costs, -Harry found that, after all debts were paid, he was -possessed of some twenty guineas in all wherewith to start life.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His project of going to Oxford was necessarily -abandoned. He was at a loss to find a career. Educated by -his father with a view to entering the Church, he was -fairly well grounded in classics and mathematics, and had -in addition a good acquaintance with French, and a great -stock of English poetry; but his knowledge was not -marketable. He was too young for a tutor's place, and -had no influence to back him; friendless and homeless, he -was at his wits' end.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then one day he bethought him of Lord Godolphin's -promise. It had been frank and apparently sincere. My -lord, it was true, had spoken of a country benefice when -Harry's Oxford days were over; but Harry reflected that -the slight service he had rendered was not likely to appear -greater with the lapse of time, while his need was actual -and urgent. Why not take the Lord Treasurer at his -word, journey to London, and put his case before the man -who, in all the kingdom, was the most able to help him -if he would?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He mentioned the matter to Gaffer Minshull, rather -expecting that the sturdy veteran would pour cold water -on his idea. To his surprise the old man urged him to -carry it out, and overbore the objections which every -high-spirited lad, even in those days of patronage, must -have had to soliciting favours from the great. His -eagerness was partially explained to Harry when the old fellow -added a suggestion of his own. He was seriously -concerned about his boy Sherebiah. In spite of strict -injunctions to have nothing to do with the expedition against -the squire's fencing, Sherebiah, man of peace as he was, -had been attracted to the scene as a moth to a candle. At -first he had watched events from a distance, among other -interested spectators; but when he saw the fight at its -beginning go against the villagers, owing to the superior -training of the squire's men, many of whom were old -soldiers, he could contain himself no longer. At the head -of the waverers he dashed into the affray, and set such an -example of valour that it would have gone hardly with the -enemy but for the opportune arrival of the rector.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>From that moment Sherebiah was a marked man. -Whatever reasons the father had for fearing Mr. Berkeley -were strengthened when it became evident that the squire -had marked and would resent the son's action. Sherebiah -had been doing no good in the village since he suddenly -returned to it, from no one knew where, a few years -before. His father was anxious that he should go away -for a time, at least until the squire's anger had cooled. -He welcomed the opportunity afforded by the approaching -departure of Harry.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Let un goo wi' 'ee," he said. "'Tis a knowen boy, -handy, with a head full o' wise things he's larned in the -world. He'd be proud to sarve 'ee, ay, that he would."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But, gaffer, I can't afford a servant. Twenty guineas -are all I have, and I know not what may happen. If Lord -Godolphin fails me, my money will soon be gone, and then -there'll be two poor fellows instead of one."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Never fear. I bean't afeard for 'ee. And what does -the Book say? Why, 'twas the holy King David as said -it hisself: 'Once I were young,' says he, 'and now I be -old; but never ha' I knowed the righteous forsaken, nor -his seed a-beggen bread neither.' That's what he said, -and he knowed a thing or two, so he did."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Perhaps he didn't know everything, gaffer. Well, -you're set on it, I see. Sherry would certainly be better -out of the squire's way; so he can come with me, and as -soon as I find something to do he had better look for -employment, and London ought to be a good place for that."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Thus it happened that, on this November morning, the -two passengers who had booked places in the Salisbury -coach for London were Harry Rochester and Sherebiah -Minshull.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The story took a long time in the telling in the parlour -of the inn, and Giles Appleyard was somewhat perturbed -when he saw by the big clock in the corner that his -departure was overdue. He drained his tankard, wiped his -mouth with the back of his hand, and went out, calling -loudly to the passengers to take their places. Harry -shook hands all round; every man had something to say -to him that was intended to be pleasant and encouraging, -but was in many cases the reverse. His heart was full as -he thought of leaving the good folk among whom he had -lived and whose kindly feeling for him was so evident. -When, last of all, Mistress Joplady flung her arms round -his neck and hugged him to her ample bosom, and then -wiped her eyes with the corner of her apron, he felt a lump -in his throat, and was glad to escape and mount to his -place on the roof of the coach.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"All right, Bill?" shouted the coachman over his shoulder.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Let goo, ostler."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And gathering up the reins he cracked his whip, and -with a clatter and rumble the heavy vehicle, amid a -volley of cheers, lurched forward on the way to London.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The journey of nearly seventy miles was not likely to -be pleasant. The stage-coaches of those days were large -and clumsy structures, with hard springs. The inside -passengers were jolted and jostled; the outside -passengers had no proper seats, but found what sitting room -they could among the packages and bundles. On this -morning, there was only one other passenger on the roof -of the coach, a stout broad-faced man dressed in brown -clothes much like Sherebiah's. He had retained his seat -during the scene of farewell, and sat solemnly munching -a thick sausage, scanning the crowd out of shrewd little -twinkling eyes that seemed a size too small for the other -features. When his sausage was finished, he filled a -huge pipe and sat puffing in stolid silence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For some time after the coach started, no word was -spoken by the three passengers. Harry was wrapt in his -thoughts, brooding over the past, dreaming about the -future. Sherebiah had lit his pipe as soon as he was -settled, and smoked on contentedly, stealing a glance -every now and then at the broad figure separated from -him by a large travelling trunk. He seemed to find some -amusement in these occasional peeps at his neighbour, -who by and by returned his glance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mizzly mornen," said Sherebiah, with a nod.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Zo," grunted the other. His eyes were resting on -Sherebiah's pipe.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Tobacco be a great comfort," said the latter, noting the -look. "Master Harry there, he bean't come to 't yet; true, -'tis not for babes an' sucklens; but I took to 'bacca when -Susan wouldn't take me, and 'tis better nor any wife."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where you get dat pipe?" asked the stranger, in a -slow pleasant voice with a foreign accent.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"This pipe! Why, over in Amesbury; see, 'tis marked -wi' the gauntlet, sure token of a Amesbury pipe, an' there's -no better in the land. Why med 'ee axe such a feelen -question, now?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Once I zaw a pipe like it, wid de mark on it—de -gauntlet, you zay."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh! I say, master, what part o' the land med 'ee -hail from? Your tongue makes me think 'ee med be a -Dutchman, though I wouldn't say so to your face."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The man looked at his interrogator without replying. -He stuffed the tobacco down into his pipe with a fat -forefinger which exactly fitted the bowl.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You know Amsterdam, my vrient?" he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ha' been there, mynheer; so 'tis Amsterdam you hail -from! Well, I ha' been in wuss places. Ay, ha' seed -summat o' the world, I have, and I knowed 'ee by your -cut for a Dutchman."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was silence again for a space. Both the men -sat smoking, heedless of all things around them. They -finished their pipes at the same moment, and, moved by -a mutual impulse, each handed his pouch to the other.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Virginia," said Sherebiah laconically.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah! Barbados," returned the other. "My name, Jan -Grootz."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And it becomes 'ee," said Sherebiah. "Now mine -bean't so good a match; 'tis over long for one o' my -inches, and over proud for a man so meek: Sherebiah -Stand-up-and-bless Minshull in the church book, but plain -Sherry to them as I takes to, like young pa'son there."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Harry was roused from his reverie at hearing himself -mentioned. He looked for the first time at his -fellow-passenger, who at that moment lifted his podgy right -hand and pointed to a windmill in full sail a little distance -from the road.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay sure, minds 'ee of home; your country's full of -mills, to be sure. Mebbe you be a miller, now?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Dutchman waited to blow a great cloud from -his mouth before he answered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A sailor," he said; "but I have mills."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A skipper," rejoined Sherry, looking over his costume. -"'Tis not for me to say, but to mortal eye you be more like -a varmer.—'Tis a skipper from Holland," he added, -including Harry in the conversation, "that has a mill or -two to his name and smokes 'bacca out o' Barbados."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Jan Grootz," said the Dutchman.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Harry acknowledged the introduction, and remarked -on the slowness of their progress over the rough road. -On this Mynheer Grootz volunteered the remark that, -having come all the way from Bristol, he would be glad -when the journey was ended. By degrees he became still -more communicative; and when the coach pulled up at -Basingstoke for the mid-day meal, Harry had learnt that -the Dutchman had been to Bristol to inspect a vessel of -which he was part-owner, and which had come most -fortunately to port after being first knocked about by a -French privateer, then badly damaged by a storm. It -was to the storm that she owed her escape from the -Frenchman, and to her captain's seamanship her escape -from the storm. Grootz was particularly gratified at her -safe arrival, for she represented a large amount not only -to him personally, but to others who could ill afford to -lose on a venture upon which he had persuaded them to -embark.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When the journey was resumed, the conversation -became still more friendly. Harry liked the look of the -Dutchman. His broad face with its wide nose and little -eyes was not handsome, but its expression inspired -confidence; and the careful slowness of his speech, and his -habit of pointing with his forefinger when he wished to -be emphatic, were a little amusing. He asked no -questions, but Harry by and by found himself explaining his -own position and relating the events that had led to it, -and told him of his projected visit to Lord Godolphin. At -this up came the forefinger.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, my young vrient, you are de son of a minister: -ver' well: you know de good Book: ver' well: 'Put not -your drust in princes;' de words are drue. I tell you dis; -besides my mills and my ships, I do oder dings; I supply -food for de men and horses of de English and Dutch -armies; and I have met princes; yes—I, Jan Grootz. I -tell you dis; wid a good honest merchant of London or -of Amsterdam, I care not, man knows where he stand; -his foot is on de solid rock; but wid dukes and grand-dukes -and oder princes—ah! man tread a quicksand. Dey -promise, but do dey pay? You are good boy, I dink; mind -you, I do not say I know, for outside do not always speak -drue; de apple may be red, and all de time a maggot at -core. I tell you dis; seven year ago I make contract over -hay wid young captain of Bavarian Elector; it was in -Namur campaign; he look good, he speak good, I am -well content; but donder! my hay I lose, and 3242 thalers -3 groschen beside. Dis den I tell you; avoid arms and -de law, drive some honest trade: zo you respect yourself, -and oder people dey respect you. You owe noding; -nobody owe you; you are a man."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Ever since the departure from Basingstoke, Sherebiah, -sitting just behind Harry, had taken no part in the -conversation, but appeared to find something curiously -interesting in the road behind, for after once or twice -looking over his shoulder he at last faced round altogether, -and sat with his back to the horses. Just as the Dutchman -finished his speech—the longest to which he had yet given -utterance, and one that his slow delivery lengthened -beyond its natural extent—Sherebiah turned round, tapped -Harry on the shoulder, and in a low tone said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Summat's i' the wind."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What do you mean, Sherry?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Wind yourself about and look down the road behind."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, I see nothing—stay, there's a horseman just -topping the hill, a good mile behind us: what of that?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, 'tis like this. He always is a mile behind: -that's where 'tis. I seed him afore we come to -Basingstoke; but he didn't come to the inn to eat his vittles, -not he. I seed him again when we was a mile this side -o' Basingstoke; what had he been doen, then, while we -eat and drank? We stop, he falls behind; when we trot, -he trots; 'tis as if he were a bob at th' end of a line, never -nearer never vurther."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You think we are being followed?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's what I do think, sure enough."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A highwayman?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mebbe, mebbe not; most like not, for 'tis not dark -enough, and he's always in sight."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Perhaps he thinks he can't be seen."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not reckonen on the height of the coach roof? But I -seed him, I did, two hours an' more agoo."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why should he follow the coach, I wonder? He may -belong to someone inside."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mebbe, mebbe not; 'tis curious anyways."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, the fellow is clearly dogging the coach; if your -curiosity troubles you, suppose you slip off a mile before -we reach the next post-house and try to get a nearer look -at him as he passes? You can catch up the coach while -they change horses."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, I will, sure. We be nigh the river now; over the -bridge and we come to Hounslow heath, a fearsome place -for highwaymen. We change at the Bull and Gate, then -run straight into Lun'on: oh, I know the road."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was late in the afternoon by the time the coach -reached the inn where the last change of the journey was -made. Ten minutes before, Sherebiah nimbly slipped down, -crept through a gap in the hedge, and waited for the -pursuer to appear. Presently he heard the clatter of hoofs; -the sound grew louder, but all at once began to diminish. -Scrambling back into the road, he was just in time to see -the horseman strike off at full speed along a by-road to his -left, which led, as Sherebiah knew, to London by a course -only a mile or two longer than the main highway. The -man must evidently have changed his horse somewhere on -the road, and could only have taken the detour in a desire -to arrive in London ahead of the coach.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sherebiah stared long and earnestly at the retreating -figure. He frowned and looked puzzled as he set off to -overtake the coach. The driver was mounting the box as -he came up.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, what do you make of it?" asked Harry.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He be gone off by a side road," replied Sherebiah.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So your curiosity is not to be satisfied after all?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, he rid away hard to the left, wi' his back towards -me, an' 'tis growen duskish, an' nowt but a owl could see -clear."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But when Sherebiah clambered to his place he wore a -sober look which did not escape the clear little eyes of -Jan Grootz, who silently extended his pouch to him. -Sherebiah refilled and puffed away, every now and then -removing the pipe from his mouth and staring -contemplatively at the bowl.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="a-message-from-the-squire"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER V</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">A Message from the Squire</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="small">The Old White Hart—A Letter for the -Captain—Visions—Aglionby gives Instructions—The -Watch—Half-Truths—Ways and Means—Hard Thinking</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Sherebiah sat very silent for the rest of the journey. The -coach jolted on rapidly towards the great city: passed the -market-gardens of Hammersmith, the open fields of -Kensington, along Piccadilly, where the first street-lamps shed -a dim oily light, through Holborn, at last pulling up at the -Angel and Crown in Threadneedle Street. It was past -nine o'clock, dull and murky, and few people were about. -But a small crowd was gathered at the door of the inn -to meet the coach, and Sherebiah, as he shouldered the -luggage and moved towards the door, shot a keen but -unobtrusive glance at the faces of the men. His -movements were somewhat too slow for Harry, who, eager to -ease his limbs after a whole day's stiffness and discomfort, -entered the hostelry first. All at once Sherebiah quickened -his step, hastened into the lobby, set the luggage down at -the foot of the stairs, and then, making a mumbled excuse -to Harry, slipped out behind one of the inn servants, and -looked narrowly at the diminishing crowd. He was just -in time to see a man, whom he had already noticed on the -outskirts of the group, saunter away in the direction of -London Bridge. Appearances are deceptive, and Sherebiah -was not sure that he was right, but he thought the -man bore a resemblance to the rider whom he had seen -following the coach, and of whom he had caught one -nearer glimpse as he turned into the by-road. He followed -the man, stepping as quietly as his heavy shoes allowed, -accommodating his pace to that of the man in front, and -taking advantage of the shadow afforded by the penthouse -fronts of the closed shops. The man quickened his steps -as he approached the bridge. Sherebiah pursued him at a -discreet distance over the narrow roadway, beneath the -rickety four-story houses that towered above the bridge -over almost its entire length, through Traitor's Gate, and -on into Southwark. The man went along one narrow street, -and at last passed under a low archway. Walking even -more stealthily, Sherebiah still followed, and found himself -in the spacious yard of the Old White Hart Inn. This -famous three-storied hostelry was built about three sides -of a square. Along two sides of the upper story ran a -balustraded gallery, with wooden pillars supporting the -sloping roof. All was quiet. Sherebiah, keeping in the -shadow of the arch, peeped round and saw the man he -followed standing at the door waiting for an answer to his -summons at the bell, which hung on the outer wall under -a gabled cover. After a little time the door opened and -the porter appeared.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Be Cap'n Aglionby within?" said the man.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, and abed and asleep. What do you want wi' him?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I want to see un."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A pretty time o' night! House was shut up an hour -ago—no business doin' these hard times. Why didn't you -come sooner?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A good reason, 'cause I be only just come to Lun'on. -I has a message for Cap'n Aglionby."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, needs must, I s'pose," grumbled the servant. -"I'll go up and wake the captain, and be cursed horrible -for my pains. Who shall I say wants him?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Tell un a friend from the country."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The porter went into the inn, and soon reappeared in the -gallery at the top of the house, where he tapped at the -door of one of the bedrooms opening from it. He tapped -once, twice, thrice, and received no answer; then to his -fourth knock came a response the tone of which, though -not the words, could be heard in the yard below. A colloquy -ensued, of which only the share of the inn servant was -distinctly audible to Sherebiah.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A man from the country, Cap'n, to see you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mumble from within.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So I told him, but here he bides."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>More mumbling.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Didn't tell me his name; a man from the country was -all he said, and I knows no more."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The answering mumble was of higher and impatient -mood. Then the man came slowly downstairs, grumbling -under his breath all the way.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You're to go up," he said to the stranger. "'Tis -number thirty-two. And fine tantrums he be in, waked -out of sleep; as if I ain't waked out of sleep or kept -from it day and night, and all year long."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The man entered the inn after the servant, and began to -ascend. Sherebiah meanwhile, looking around, had espied -another stairway at the opposite angle of the courtyard. -Darting across on tiptoe, he mounted quickly, quietly, -and reached the gallery above in time to see the -messenger disappear into the captain's room. He hurried -along, and, relying on the porter's complaint of the paucity -of business, he opened the door of the adjacent room and -slipped in, leaving the door ajar. Through the thin -partition he heard the murmur of voices in the next room, but -could not catch a word distinctly. In a few moments, -however, there was a crash as of a chair being overthrown, -followed by a torrent of execrations from the captain. -Then the door of the next room opened, and Aglionby -came out on to the gallery accompanied by his visitor.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hang you and the squire too!" said the angry warrior. -"The tinder's wet, and I can't light my candle. Give me -the letter and I'll read it by the light of the lantern yonder, -and catch my death o' cold withal."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Shrinking back into the darkness of his room, Sherebiah -caught sight of Captain Aglionby as he passed the half-open -door on his way to the single lantern that feebly lit up -the gallery. He had pulled on his breeches and stockings, -but for the rest was in night attire. The lantern swung -from a hook at the corner of the gallery, three rooms -beyond that into which Sherebiah had ventured. Standing -beneath it, the captain broke the seal of the letter -given him by the visitor, and read rapidly under his -breath. The reading finished, he stuffed the paper into -his pocket and chuckled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Stap me, he begs and prays me now!" he exclaimed. -"See, Jock, tell me what ye know of this. Ye ha'n't read -the letter, ha' ye? By the Lord Harry, I'll slit—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nay, nay, Cap'n," interrupted the man; "I know -nought o' the letter. I'll tell 'ee how it all come about. -I was openen the gate for Squire, when—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Speak lower, man; your brazen throat'll wake the house."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I was openen the gate for Squire," resumed the fellow -in a lower tone, which was, however, still audible to -Sherebiah's straining ears, "when who should come by but -young master popinjay dressed all in his black. He never -bobbed to Squire, not he; never so much as cast eyes on -un; but when Squire saw the young swaggerer he stopped -still as a stone, and looked after un dazed like. Then he -put his arm on the gate, a' did, and leant heavy on it, -thinken mortal hard; 'twas a matter o' five minutes afore -he lifted his head again, and never seed I a stranger look -on any man's face than I seed then on Squire's. A' jumped -when his eyes fell on me; 'What be staren at, fool?' says -he, in one of his rages. 'Shall I run for doctor?' says I; -'you do look mortal bad.' 'Nay,' says he, ''tis nothen; a -little faintness; 'twill pass.' I touched my cap, as becomes -me, and Squire went into park and shut gate behind un. -But a' hadn't walked more nor three steps when a' stops, -swings about, and 'Jock!' says he, 'order post-horses for -Hungerford road to-morrer. And come up to hall inside -of an hour; I shall ha' a job for 'ee.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, I went up to hall after I'd ordered horses, and -Squire give me this letter. 'You'll ride to Lun'on -to-morrer, and take this letter to Cap'n Aglionby at White -Hart, South'ark. And you'll tell the cap'n where young -Master Rochester be stayen.' 'How'll I know that, -Squire?' says I. 'Pon that he burst into one of his terr'ble -rages again. 'How, fool!' says he; 'why, keep the coach -in sight, and see that 'ee make no mistake.' So here I be, -Cap'n, and young Master Rochester he's at Angel and -Crown in Threadneedle Street."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thank 'ee, Jock; I know the house. And is the -young springald alone?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not he; has Sherry Minshull with un, a-carryen his -belongens."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Zounds and thunder! did Sherry see you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, i' feck; I kept too far from coach to be seen for -sarten, and at Angel and Crown Sherry was too heavy -laden to spy me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well for you, well for you! Jock, you'll come and -take up your quarters here; there's plenty of room. I'll -tell 'em to gi' ye a bed."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What about the horse, Cap'n? I left un at Angel -and Crown."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Let him bide till morning; then you can bring him -here too."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But Squire, Cap'n,—won't he expect us back, me and -horse?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not he; 'tis here written; I'm to keep you if there's -any work for you, and odzooks! I'll ha' some work for you, -never fear. Jock, if your story has made you as dry as -it has made me you're main thirsty; go down and bring -up beer for two, and a lighted candle. I'll ring and wake -that rascal by the time you get to the foot of the stairs."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The man went down by the way he had come, and the -captain returned to his room. As soon as the coast was -clear, Sherebiah slipped out into the gallery, carrying his -shoes to avoid noise, ran down the outer staircase, stood -for a few moments at the foot to make sure that all was -safe, then darted across the yard and out at the gate. The -street was quite deserted, and Sherebiah, secure from -molestation, walked slowly along towards London Bridge, -deep in thought. His friend Harry had been followed to -London at the orders of the squire; what was the meaning -of that? Surely Mr. Berkeley did not intend to wreak -vengeance on the son for the baffled opposition of the -father? What had Captain Aglionby to do with the -matter? Rumour the omniscient had informed the village -that the captain's departure had been occasioned by a -violent quarrel with the squire; yet it was plain that the -squire knew the captain's whereabouts and was enlisting -his aid in some project. Sherebiah wished that he could -get a sight of Mr. Berkeley's letter; he was puzzled to -account for the old man's shock as Harry passed the gate; -but try as he might to piece these strange circumstances -together, all his cogitation suggested no clue.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So absorbed was he, so mechanical his movements, that -he started convulsively when, just as he had passed through -Traitor's Gate, a man stepped suddenly before him from -a narrow entry and bade him stop in the Queen's name. -Looking up, he saw that his way was barred by a corpulent -constable in cocked hat and laced coat, with a staff -two feet longer than himself, and half a dozen ancient and -decrepit watchmen with lanterns and staves.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Stand!" cried the constable. "Give an account of -yourself."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sherebiah took his measure.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not so, neither, master constable. Out o' my way; -'tis a late hour, and I ought to be abed."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He made to move on, but the constable stood full in his -path, and the watchmen grouped themselves behind their -superior.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You may be a villain for aught I know," said the -constable, "or even a vagrom or thief. Why abroad -at this hour o' night?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm as sober as a judge," replied Sherebiah, "and -neither thief nor vagrom. Stand aside, master constable."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, 'tis dry and thirsty work watching o' nights, -and there be seven of us, and a shilling don't go far in -these war times; we'll take a shilling to let ye pass; -eh, men?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The watchmen mumbled assent. Sherebiah laughed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A shilling? 'Tis a free country, master constable, -and a sober countryman don't carry shillings to buy what's -his. And seems to me, so it does, as ye've had drink -enough a'ready; out o' my way, I say!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Arrest him, men!" cried the constable, angry at being -disappointed of his expected tip.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The words were scarcely out of his mouth when with -sudden energy Sherebiah threw himself against him, at the -same time placing a leg behind his knee. As the constable -fell, Sherebiah dashed at the watchmen, toppled two of -them over, their fall being accompanied by the crash of -their lanterns, scattered the rest, and ran rapidly across -the bridge. This unexpected onset from one whom they -had taken for a simple and timid country bumpkin was -too much for the watch. They made no attempt to pursue -the fugitive, but returned surly and crestfallen to their lair.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where on earth have you been, Sherry?" asked Harry, -as his man re-entered the inn.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Payen a visit to a cousin o' mine, Master Harry. -And I was nigh put in lock-up, I was. Was stopped by -the watch, but I toppled un over, I did. I'm a man o' -peace."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If you are let alone," said Harry, laughing. "I feared -some harm had happened to you. Our Dutch friend tells -me London is an ill place at night for a stranger."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, and by day too, Master Harry," rejoined Sherebiah -earnestly. "If I med make so bold, I'd say, get 'ee -to-morrow a good cane,—none of your little small -amber-tipt fancies as fine gentlemen swing in their dainty -fingers, but a stout length of oak or birch, fit to crack -a pate."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have a sword, Sherry, and can use it, thanks to you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, but 'tis not always easy to draw a sword in time -in a street brawl, and there be light-fingered gentry as can -coax a sword from the scabbard and the wearer none the -wiser till it be too late. Be it your poor feyther's sword -you ha' brought, sir?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, the silver-hilted one; I showed it you once, Sherry."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, 'tis right for a gentleman to wear a sword, -though I marvel, I do, at a holy man o' peace like pa'son -haven such a deadly piece o' furniture."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, and I've often wondered how a man of peace like -yourself is able to handle a sword so well. You made -a swordsman of me, Sherry; how did you become one -yourself?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, sir, 'tis a many things a man o' peace has to know -in the way o' dressens. I believe in peace with a cudgel -in your hand. Them as wants peace be most like to get -it an they be ready for war."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You remind me of what Master Butler says:</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>'There's but the twinkling of a star</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Betwixt the man of peace and war'.</span></div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>But the hour is late, Sherry, and I must be up betimes in -the morning, for my visit to Lord Godolphin."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You bean't gwine to see the high lard to-morrer, sir? -Better larn to find your way about this tangle o' busy -streets first. 'Tis as easy as sucken eggs to lose your -way."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have made up my mind to go to-morrow. You see, -I must lose no time. I have only twenty guineas, as you -know, and by to-morrow two of those will be gone. And -I sha'n't rest till I have tried my luck. Good-night, Sherry! -Wake me at seven."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Left to himself, Sherebiah ordered a pint of small beer, -and sat for an hour longer, ruminating, with knit brows -and compressed lips. More than once he got up and -walked round the deal table, stopping to take a pull at -the tankard, heaving a sigh, then going on again. He -was disquieted. The sudden discovery that the squire's -animosity was pursuing Harry no less perplexed than -disturbed him. Harry and Mr. Berkeley had never met -at close quarters; there had been no intercourse between -hall and parsonage. A personal cause of offence was, as -it seemed to Sherebiah, out of the question; yet it was -strange that the squire's hatred of the father should -extend to the son. At length, muttering "No one can tell -what's what with the likes o' old Squire," Sherebiah -brought his big fist down on to the table with a bang -that made the pewter jump and rattle, and fetched the -drawer from his place in the bar.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What d'ye lack?" said the man.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nothen, sonny, nothen. 'Tis a way o' mine to hit out -when I be a-thinken, a bold way for a man o' peace, true. -Bacon at half arter seven, drawer,—and we be country -eaters, mind 'ee. Good-night!"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="my-lord-marlborough-makes-a-note"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER VI</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">My Lord Marlborough makes a Note</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="small">London Streets—A Chair!—A Great Man's Portals—An -Effort of Memory—Patronage—Marlborough—A Step in -the Peerage—A Memorandum—A Friend in London—A -Dinner at Locket's—Mr. Colley Cibber—Great -Expectations—A Thick Stick—Prevarication</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Harry was awake long before Sherebiah tapped at his -door next morning. His projected visit to Lord Godolphin -gave him some concern. He had no tremors of shyness -at the thought of meeting the Lord Treasurer; but, -ignorant as he was of London ways, he knew not how to -time his visit, and could hope for no counsel on that point -from Sherebiah. He was too much excited to do justice -to the crisp rashers which were placed before him at the -breakfast-table, and felt little disposed to converse with -Jan Grootz the Dutchman opposite. Sherebiah had taken -upon himself to wait at table, but, as a privileged servitor, -did not think it unbecoming to throw in a word here and -there. He gave Grootz his views on the price of oats and -the policy of King Louis of France with equal assurance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Know ye where de lord live?" asked the Dutchman suddenly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Harry had forgotten that he had mentioned his errand -to his fellow-passenger, and for the moment repented his -confidence. Before he could reply, Grootz went on:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He live over against the Queen's Wood Yard, by -Thames-side, leading to Scotland Yard. My vrient John -Evelyn built de house. I have been dere."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh!" exclaimed Harry. "Then can you tell me the -best time to visit him?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ja! De best time, it is ten o'clock, before he go to de -palace. He rise late; he has many visitors; I zee him -myself in his dressing-gown before his zervant have curled -his wig, and I wait my turn two hours. And when you -zee him, you zall lose no time; he like man to speak out, -mark you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Dutchman spoke very slowly, not interrupting his -meal, and wagging his fat finger as he concluded.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And how shall I go? Shall I walk?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I' feck, no," said Sherebiah from behind. "The night -have been rainy, and the streets be mushed wi' mud; -you'd be spattered from head to heel, Master Harry. -Nay; you med walk as far as the Exchange and buy 'ee -a pair o' gloves there for seemliness, and then get your -shoes brushed by one o' the blackguards at the corner. -Then you can take a chair; 'tis a shilling a mile, and easier -goen nor the hackneys, for the chairmen walk on the -pavement, and you won't get jolted nor splashed so bad."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ja, and I tell you dis," added the Dutchman. "Short -poles, and short men; zo, dey take not zo much room, -and if dey upzet you, why, you do not fall zo much."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, and don't let 'em chouse 'ee out o' more than their -due," said Sherebiah. "I know they men. If they think -a man be up from country, they look at un and then at -the shilling, up and down, and miscall un wi' such brazen -tongues that he'll pay anything to save his ears. A shilling -a mile, Master Harry, no more."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Zo! De counsel is good. But I give you a better: -go not at all. Lords! I tell you dis before: an honest -merchant is worth two, dree, no man zay how many -lords; and de Book zay, 'Put not your drust in princes'. -Still, I wish you good luck, my young vrient, Jan -Grootz; zo!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He squeezed Harry's hand in his own great fist, and -then, having demolished his mountain of food, filled his -pipe and set forth for the Custom House on Thames bank. -Two hours later, Harry left the inn under Sherebiah's -guidance, and for the first time in his life trod the streets of -London. Filled though his mind was with the approaching -interview, which might mean so much to him, he was -yet able to take an interest in the strange scenes that -opened before his inexperienced eyes: the brilliant shops, -each with its sign of painted copper, pewter, or wood -hanging from iron branches; the taverns and -coffee-houses, already crowded with people eager to hear and -discuss the news, and perhaps to get a peep at the -morning's </span><em class="italics">Courant</em><span>; the court and porticoes of the Royal -Exchange, to which merchants were flocking; the crowds -of money-dealers in Change Alley, looking for clients. He -went up to the gallery on the first floor of the Exchange, -and bought a pair of gloves from a neat and pretty girl at -one of the booths; then strolled along, admiring the rich -and dazzling display of silks and jewellery which a few -hours later would attract all the fine ladies in town.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Descending to the street again, he passed up Cheapside -and through St. Paul's Churchyard, down Ludgate Hill -and through Ludgate, where he beheld impaled on stakes -a row of hideous heads of traitors, one of which, Sherebiah -told him with indignation, was that of Noll Crum'ell. -Then skirting the Fleet Ditch, once navigable, but now a -noisome slimy sewer, he came into Fleet Street, through -Temple Bar to the Strand, and at length arrived at Charing -Cross, where he was nearly overturned by a hasty -chair-man, whose "By your leave!" was not yet familiar to his -ears. At Charing Cross stood a number of boys with -boxes before them on the pavement, and cries of "Clean -your shoes!" "London fucus!" "Best Spanish blacking!" -came in eager competing tones. Sherebiah selected one -whose stand was in front of a barber's shop.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Here's the blackguard for 'ee, Master Harry," he said. -"He'll shine your shoes while barber shaves my stubble. -A penny; no more."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When the shoes were polished and the stubble mown, -Sherebiah called up a couple of chairmen who were sitting -on their poles near by.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do 'ee know my Lord Godolphin's noble house?" he asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay; servant, sir."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well then, carry my young master to that very house, -and see 'ee don't jolt 'n, or drop 'n, or let 'n get splashed. -'Tis under a mile, Master Harry," he whispered at parting.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Harry would rather have walked. The men took what -care they could, but the press of people was so great that -they had to dodge at every few steps, and their fare -gripped the seat to prevent himself from being knocked -against first one side, then the other, of the conveyance. -At the corner of Whitehall, as they turned into Scotland -Yard, a passing dray splashed up a shower of liquid mud, -and Harry felt a moist dab upon his nose. Fortunately -the spot was soon removed with his handkerchief; and -when, after crossing by the Charcoal House and through -the Wood Yard, the chairmen at length set him down at -the door of Godolphin's house, he would have felt no -anxiety about his personal appearance, if he had been -sufficiently self-conscious to think about it. He had put -on his best coat, silk stockings, and buckle shoes; at his -side he wore the sword about which he had spoken to -Sherebiah. He sprang alertly up the steps, and looked -about him with a keen quick gaze that bespoke a definite -purpose.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The great entrance-hall was thronged. Servants, officers, -government officials, men about town, stood in groups or -moved here and there in pursuit of their several objects -of business or pleasure. No one appeared to remark the -presence of the new-comer, who walked quietly through -the throng towards the broad staircase. At the foot a -gorgeously-dressed flunkey was standing, to whom one -or two gentlemen had already applied for information. -As Harry was about to address him, his attention was -attracted by a woolly-pated wide-grinning black boy, who -at that moment ran down the stairs. He carried a silver -tray, on which a cup and jug of fine porcelain jingled as -he ran.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Done, Sambo?" asked the tall flunkey at the stair-foot.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yussir!" replied the boy with a white grin. "My lord -jolly dis mornin; oh yes; drink him chocolate without one -cuss. Gwine to begin work now; oh yes."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Can I see the Lord Godolphin?" asked Harry, stepping -up to the servant as Sambo disappeared.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The man gave Harry a stare, but answered respectfully: -"My lord's levee is over, sir. The nigger brings down -the tray when the last visitor has gone."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have come specially to see my lord, and——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Have you an appointment, sir?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I think if you will take my name to my lord he will -see me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Harry spoke quietly; he was determined not to be turned -from his purpose by mere formality or red tape. The man -eyeing him saw nothing but self-possession and confidence -in his air.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My lord is now engaged with his correspondence," he -said. "He does not brook interruption."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My name is Harry Rochester; I will answer for it -that you will do no wrong in acquainting his lordship."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After a moment's hesitation the man beckoned to a -fellow-servant, and gave him Harry's message. He went -upstairs, and returning in a few minutes said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What is your business with my lord, sir? His lordship -does not remember your name."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was the suggestion of a sneer in the man's voice. -With hardly a perceptible pause Harry replied:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Tell his lordship I am from Winton St. Mary, at his -invitation."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A faint smile curled the lips of the two flunkeys. The -second again mounted the stairs. When he descended, his -face wore its usual expression of deference and respect.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Be so good as to wait upon his lordship," he said, and -led the way.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In a few minutes Harry found himself, hat in hand, -making his bow to Lord Godolphin in a large wainscoted -apartment. Four large candles burnt upon the mantel-piece, -daylight being kept out by the heavy curtains on -either side of the narrow window. A huge log fire filled -the chimney-place; beyond it stood a broad table littered -with papers, which at that moment a young man was -sorting by the light of a shaded candle. Lord Godolphin -was in dressing-gown and slippers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, sir?" he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My name is Rochester, my lord."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am aware of that. I do not recall it. Well?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>My lord's tone was cold and uninviting.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Your lordship will permit me to mention a little -incident on the Roman road by Sir Godfrey Fanshawe's -park, when——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Stay, I remember now. You are the lad they called -the young parson, eh? I have a poor head for names. -When my man spoke of Winton St. Mary I supposed you -might be a messenger from the gentleman who -entertained us there."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Now that Harry was actually face to face with the -Lord Treasurer, he felt some diffidence in opening the -subject of his visit. My lord, in spite of his deshabille, -seemed far less approachable than he had been on the -old Roman road. Then he was the country sportsman; -now he was the chief minister of the Queen.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Your shouting friend with the scriptural name—how -is he?" he asked in a somewhat more cordial tone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He is well, my lord; he is with me in London."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And your father: has he won his case against the -squire? I heard something of him at Sir Godfrey -Fanshawe's, I think."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My father is dead, my lord."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Indeed! Pray accept my condolences. And now, tell -me what brings you here."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Your lordship may remember, after the scene with -the highwaymen——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, yes; you did me a service, you and your man; -what then?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It was but a slight service, my lord; I do not presume -on it; but you were so good as to say that if, at some -future time, I should find myself in need of assistance, -I was to come to your lordship."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, I did speak of a country parsonage, I believe. -But you,"—he smiled—"why, I really may not venture to -set you up in a cure of souls. You have to take your -degrees yet."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That is impossible, my lord. My father impoverished -himself in his feuds with Mr. Berkeley; when his affairs -were settled I found myself possessed of but a poor twenty -guineas. I have given up all thought of going to Oxford; -I must seek a livelihood."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"H'm!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lord Godolphin looked him up and down, as though -estimating his chances of making his way in the world.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You wear a sword," he said. "Rochester—you are -no connection of the earl's?—no, of course not, he is a -Wilmot. Where do you spring from?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My grandfather was a soldier, my lord; I have heard -that he died young, but my father seldom spoke of these -matters; we have no relatives."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"H'm! I bethink me now, you yourself have an itch -for martial life. All boys have, I suppose. Young Lord -Churchill was cut to the heart a few months ago because -my lady Marlborough would not permit him to follow his -father to Flanders. Well, to be frank with you, I see no -way of helping you. With twenty guineas you can no -more buy a commission than you can enter yourself at -a college. To enlist as a common soldier would be a last -resource to one of your breeding. There are too many -young scions of good stocks for the lesser places at court -to go round among them. Yet I would fain do something -for you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He began to saunter up and down the room, his hands -clasped behind him, stopping for a moment to listen as the -sound of cheers came from the street. Suddenly the door -was opened, and the voice of the servant was heard -announcing a visitor.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My lord Marlborough."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Harry looked with eager curiosity as the great soldier -entered the room. He saw a tall, singularly handsome -man, with short curved upper lip, firm chin, long -almond-shaped eyes, and a calm benignity of expression. John -Churchill, Earl of Marlborough, was at this time fifty-two -years of age. As captain-general of the English forces, -in the summer of this year, 1702, he had opened in -concert with the Dutch a campaign in Flanders against -Louis the Fourteenth of France,—a new campaign in the -great war of the Spanish Succession which the policy of -William the Third had bequeathed to his sister-in-law. -Venloo and other towns had been captured by the -confederate armies, Liège had been reduced, and the forces -having gone into winter quarters, Marlborough had -returned to England to support the Occasional Conformity -Bill. He was a close personal friend of Godolphin, and -allied to him by the marriage of Francis Godolphin to his -daughter Henrietta.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Welcome, my dear lord!" said Godolphin, starting -forward to meet the earl. "I did not know you had -arrived."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am but just come from waiting on the Queen," said -Marlborough. "I arrived late last night."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You are welcome indeed. All men's mouths are full -of your praises."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay," returned Marlborough with a smile; "your -Londoners have lusty throats. And I have a piece of -news for you." He dropped his voice: the secretary had -vanished through a further door: Harry stood in a -quandary, the noblemen both seeming to ignore his presence. -"The Queen has been pleased to express her wish to -make me a duke."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Godolphin laid his hand on his friend's arm, and said -cordially: "I congratulate you, Jack, with all my heart. -Why, this very morning I have a letter from Churchill at -Cambridge; there are shrewd wits there; he says 'tis -whispered you are to be raised in the peerage, and the -boy, young dog, begs me to tell him what his own title -will be then."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah! 'tis over soon to talk of it. I must acquaint my -lady first, and methinks she will object."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Stap me, Jack! 'tis few women would hesitate to -exchange countess for duchess.—God bless me, I'd forgotten -the boy! My lord, this is the hero of the little adventure -at Winton St. Mary I writ you of. 'Twas he that -inspired the stout fellow to shout, and scared the -highwaymen out of their five wits."</span></p> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 84%" id="figure-103"> -<span id="my-lord-marlborough"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="My Lord Marlborough" src="images/img-080.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">My Lord Marlborough</span></div> -</div> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marlborough looked towards Harry, who flushed and -bowed. An idea seemed to strike Godolphin. Linking -his arm with the earl's, he led him slowly to the other -end of the room, and stood there talking earnestly to him -in tones too low for Harry to catch a word. Once or -twice both glanced at the tall youthful figure standing -in some natural embarrassment near the door. Once -Marlborough shook his head and frowned, upon which -Godolphin took him by a button of his laced coat and -spoke more earnestly than before. At length Marlborough -smiled, laid a hand on Godolphin's shoulder, and spoke a -few words in his ear. Then he turned about, and coming -slowly towards Harry, said, in his clear bell-like tones:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My lord Godolphin tells me you have lost your father -and are all but penniless. 'Tis an unfortunate situation -for a lad of your years. You would serve the Queen?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, my lord."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You have a quick wit, my lord says. I may make -some use of you. Write your name on a piece of paper, -and the name of your lodging."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Godolphin motioned him to the table, where he found -paper and a pencil. He wrote his name and the name of -his inn, and handed the paper to Marlborough, who said, -as he folded it and placed it in his pocket:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I will send for you, Master Rochester, if I can serve you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My lord, I am much beholden to you—" began Harry.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marlborough interrupted him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Tis my lord Godolphin you should thank for his good word."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Faith, my lord," said Godolphin, "'tis due to Master -Rochester that the Queen is served by her present Lord -Treasurer. I am glad, my lad, that my friend Lord -Marlborough chanced to come upon us here, and I hope -you will have reason to be glad also. Now, you will -excuse us; we have matters of state to speak of; I wish -you well."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Harry murmured his thanks and bowed himself out. -His nerves were a-tingle with his unexpected good fortune. -To have seen and spoken with the greatest man in the -kingdom was itself an unforeseen privilege; and the -prospect of assistance from such a powerful and august -personage filled him with elation. The earl had shown -no great cordiality, it was true; but Harry was inclined -to draw good augury from the few words he had uttered. -They were probably more sincere than a warm volubility -would have been. He left the house with a sparkling eye -and a springy gait, and looked eagerly around to see if -Sherebiah were near at hand to hear his news. But -Sherebiah was nowhere to be seen. Having no particular -business, now that his great errand was accomplished, Harry -walked through Whitehall into St. James's Park, in the -hope that he might catch a glimpse of Queen Anne herself. -The guard had just been changed at St. James's Palace, -and a stream of people met him as he strolled along the -Mall. He was interested in watching them—the fine ladies -with their hoops and patches, the beaux with their -many-coloured coats, canes dangling at their buttons, toothpicks -between their teeth, and snuff-boxes in frequent use. So -absorbed was he that he was startled when all at once a -hand struck him a hearty blow on the shoulder, and a -voice exclaimed:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hey, Harry, what make you, ogling the ladies?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He turned and saw his friend Godfrey Fanshawe, the -captain of the cricket team to whose victory he had so -much contributed. The two young fellows shook hands -heartily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What brings you to London?" continued Fanshawe.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I've come in search of fortune, like Dick Whittington. -You heard of my father's death?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, but nothing since. They seldom write letters at home."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Harry then explained the course of events which had -brought him to London, concluding with his recent -interview with Marlborough and Godolphin.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Egad, man!" exclaimed Fanshawe, "you're in luck's -way indeed. Would that I stood so well with the two -greatest men in England. My lord Marlborough will -gazette you an ensign of foot or a cornet of horse; and -my cornetcy, I may tell you, cost my father a pretty -penny. What luck, Harry, if we make the next campaign -together! The earl will surely go back to Flanders when -the winter is over."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I should like nothing better."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where are you staying?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"At the Angel and Crown, in Threadneedle Street."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You must leave that and come westward. Are you alone?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sherry Minshull is with me at present; but he'll get -work for himself as soon as I am settled."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sherry's a handy fellow; egad, I know no better! -He'll tie a fly with any man, and is as good with sword -or quarterstaff as he is with his fists. Well now, 'tis -drawing towards dinner-time; come and dine with me; -the people of fashion here dine at four, but I stick to -country habits. We'll go to Locket's at Charing Cross; -you're my guest to-day. And we'll go to the play this -evening; the first time, I warrant you, you've seen a play. -Come! I stand well with the people at Locket's, and the -sharp air this morning has given me an appetite."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was but five minutes' walk to Locket's tavern. Entering, -Fanshawe bowed with elaborate courtesy to the fair -dame in charge, and called for the card.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There's boiled beef and carrots, I see, and a goose, -and look, a calf's head. I adore calf's head. What say -you? Yes? Boy, bring calf's head for two, and quickly."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With calf's head and cabbage and a wedge of Cheshire -cheese, the two young fellows appeased their unjaded -appetites. Fanshawe sat for some time finishing his -bottle of wine, Harry contenting himself with small beer. -Then, as there still remained a few hours to while away -before theatre time, Fanshawe proposed a row on the -river. Harry eagerly assented; they sallied forth, took -boat at Westminster stairs and rowed up to Chelsea, -returning to Westminster in time for the performance -of Mr. Colley Cibber's new play, "She would and she -would not", by Her Majesty's Servants at Drury Lane. -Harry was delighted with his first visit to the theatre. -He was tickled at the unabashed impertinence of -Trappanti the discarded servant, played by Mr. Penkethman, -one of the best comedians in London, as Fanshawe -informed him; and fell in love with Hypolita the heroine, -a part which suited Mrs. Mountford to perfection. But -he was perhaps most interested in Mr. Colley Cibber -himself, who played the part of Don Manuel the irascible -father. His pleasure was complete when, after the -performance, Fanshawe took him to the Bull's Head tavern, -and showed him Mr. Cibber with his paint washed off, -surrounded by a circle of actors, soldiers, lords, and even -clergymen. He had never seen an author before. Mr. Cibber -had no presence to boast of, with his thick legs, -lean face, and sandy hair; but the liveliness of his -conversation gave him a sort of pre-eminence among his -coterie, and made a considerable impression on a youth -ready to admire and wonder at anything.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Fanshawe appeared quite at home among the company. -He was indeed a frequent visitor at the Bull's Head after -the play, where all were welcome on condition of providing -their quota towards the general hilarity. Fanshawe was -the lucky possessor of a fine baritone voice, and his spirited -singing of west-country songs had won him instant popularity. -On this night, in response to the usual call, he began—</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"Tom Pearce, Tom Pearce, lend me thy grey mare,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>All along, down along, out along lee;</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span>For I want for to go to Widdicombe Fair,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>Wi' Bill Brewer, Jan Stewer, Peter Gurney, Peter Davy,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>Dan Whiddon, Harry Hawk,</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span>Old uncle Tom Cobleigh, and all";</span></div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>and by the time he reached the end of the third of the -eight stanzas, the whole company were ready to join him -in trolling the chorus,</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"Old uncle Tom Cobleigh and all".</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>It was late when Harry reached the Angel and Crown. -Sherebiah was marching up and down before the tavern, -blowing great clouds from his pipe.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hey now, Master Harry," he said, with an expression -of mingled wrath and relief; "'tis a mighty scurvy trick -you have played me, i' feck 'tis so. Here we are, your -second day in London, and you must go off along by your -lone self on who knows what errand o' foolery. Ay, 'tis -strong words for me, and a man o' peace and all, but -not too strong, seee'n as I knows the wicked ways o' the -town and you be unfledged. Zooks, sir, I've been in a -terrible way, thinken all manner of awsome an' gashly -things, as how you med ha' been trepanned, or slit by -the Scourers, or trampled by some high lard's horses, or -rifled and beat by footpads, or 'ticed into a dicing den by -sweetners always on the look-out for a country gudgeon, -or——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hold, Sherry, you forget yourself," said Harry, who -was, however, not displeased to find the honest fellow so -solicitous about him. "In truth, I forgot all about you. -I can take care of myself, I think. I dined with Mr. Godfrey -Fanshawe, whom I chanced to meet, and we went to -the play afterwards, and I never laughed so much in my -life. Mrs. Mountford's a beauty, Sherry, and Mr. Cibber—when -he doesn't squeak—has the pleasantest voice ever I -heard—nay, not that, after all; 'tis not so pleasant as my -lord Marlborough's. What d'ye think, Sherry? I met the -earl himself at Lord Godolphin's, and he has my name on -a scrap of paper, and to-morrow or next day I shall hold -the queen's commission, and then off with the troops -to Flanders, and I shall make my fortune, man, and -then——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Huh!" put in a voice from the doorway. "Haastige -spoed is zelden goed."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Harry's excitement was dashed by the slow drawl of -Mynheer Grootz, whose little eyes were twinkling as he -puffed at his big pipe.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, a true word," said Sherebiah. "'More haste, less -speed,' as the Dutch words mean put into rightful -language. 'Counten chickens afore they be hatched,' as ye -med say."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Though he was a little nettled, Harry had too much -good sense not to see that his elation had carried him -too far. He could laugh at himself—an excellent virtue -in man or boy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am an ass, Mr. Grootz," he said; "but really I did -not expect such good luck. My lord Godolphin was -very kind, and so was the earl, and as he used but few -words I do think he meant what he said. I am sorry my -absence made you uneasy, Sherry; but I don't understand -why you should imagine all manner of harm."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"An ye knew——" began Sherebiah; but he paused, -hemmed, and changed his sentence. "All's well as ends -well, Master Harry; I axe your pardon for my free words; -and here be a fine stout piece of ash I bought in Fleet Street -for your hand. Feel un; 'twill crack a pate as quick as -speaken, and I'll be more easy in mind knowen you have -such a good staff in company."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thanks, Sherry!" said Harry with a laugh, weighing -in his hand the stick with which the man presented him. -"But I'm a man of peace, you know, eh?—at present. -Now let's to bed."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As they went from the room Harry remarked, "By the -way, Sherry, how is it that you know Dutch?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Me know Dutch? Why, sir, what makes ye think I -know that outlandish tongue?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, didn't you tell me just now the meaning of what -Mynheer Grootz said to me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, so I did, now. It must ha' been as a dog knows his -master's speech, or just as I knowed the meanen o' the -holy things your good feyther was used to speak in the -high pulpit, for egad, word by word I knowed no more -than the dead what a' said, not I."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The explanation struck Harry as rather lame, but he -merely said, with a laugh:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, you'll make a very faithful watch-dog, Sherry. -Good-night! I shall sleep well;—if I don't dream too much -of battle and glory."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="snared"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER VII</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">Snared</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="small">Hope Deferred—Motes in the Sunbeam—Mynheer makes an -Offer—Sherebiah on Guard—New Quarters—Tumblers—Solvitur -Ambulando—Doubling—Sick at Heart—Too Late—A Debit -Balance—Gloom—Cold Streets—Three Sailors—Muffled</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Several days passed—days of unfailing happiness for -Harry. Though he spent hours in roaming the town, -there was always something fresh to see, something novel -to capture his interest. He saw the state entrance of the -new Venetian ambassador. He visited the Tower, the -Abbey, and St. Paul's, saw Winstanley's water-works in -Piccadilly near Hyde Park, and witnessed a football -match at Covent Garden. He accompanied Fanshawe -several times to the theatre, and somewhat offended -that sparkish young gentleman by constantly refusing -to join him in card-parties and night escapades in -the streets. He saw a back-sword match at the Bear -Garden in Hockley in the Hole, and a billiard match at -the Greyhound Coffee-house near Monmouth Street. -Apart from these public sights, he found endless diversion -in the ordinary street scenes: the markets, the itinerant -vendors, the acrobats, or posture-masters as they were -then called, who performed their dancing and tumbling -in squares remote from the traffic. It amused Harry that -Sherebiah never tired of these mountebank tricks, but -would stand and watch them with unflagging interest by -the hour, applauding every neatly executed feat, and -criticising with unsparing severity every instance of -clumsiness or bungling. Soldiers, on the other hand, -apparently did not interest Sherebiah. Harry liked to -watch them drilling on the Horse Guards' parade or in -Hyde Park; but on these occasions Sherebiah always -strolled away, waiting with impatience until his young -master had satisfied his curiosity.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They won't kill you, Sherry," said Harry once, -laughing as the man sheered off. "Their muskets are not -loaded."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"True. But 'tis no pleasure to me to see such men -o' war. Feyther o' mine were a trooper; he be always -talken on it; I be a man o' peace, I be."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Every day when he came down to breakfast, and when -he returned in the evening, Harry eagerly looked for a -message from Lord Marlborough. But the days passed; -a week flew by; and still no message came. After the -second day he made no reference to the matter; Sherebiah -and Grootz considerately forbore to allude to it. But they -watched him with shrewd eyes, and saw, through all the -curiosity and pleasure he took in his new life, a growing -sense of disappointment and anxiety. He had built high -hopes upon the interview at Godolphin's; as boys will, he -had allowed his fancy to outstrip his judgment, and had -added a good deal of embroidery to the simple facts. -Already in imagination he saw himself carrying the -Queen's colours, performing heroic deeds in the field, -winning golden opinions from the general, coming home -laden with honour and substantial rewards, perhaps to -gain, as the acme of bliss, an approving smile from the -Queen herself. And he would wake from these day-dreams -to the sober reality—-that the desired message from -Marlborough had not come, and meanwhile time was fleeting -by, and every day saw his little stock of money -diminished.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He had resisted Fanshawe's recommendation to change -his lodging. Charges were higher, Sherebiah informed -him, in the more fashionable parts, and he knew that he -could not afford to run risks. At first he had not been -parsimonious; he was not extravagant by nature, but he -had not hesitated to buy a trifle that pleased him, to give -largesse to the ballad-singers and street musicians, to pay -his eighteenpence for a seat in the pit at Drury Lane or -Lincoln's Inn Fields. But he gave all this up, and thought -twice about spending a penny. He bought only the -strictest necessaries, and for his amusement depended on -the sights of the streets, the parks, and the river, and such -entertainment as could be had at the coffee-houses, -where for a penny he could obtain a dish of coffee, read -the </span><em class="italics">Daily Courant</em><span> with its manuscript supplement, or -Dawks's </span><em class="italics">News Letter</em><span>, and hear all the news of the day -discussed with more heat than information by arm-chair -politicians.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>One day the </span><em class="italics">Courant</em><span> announced that the Queen had -been pleased to confer the dignity of a dukedom upon -the Earl of Marlborough, and that the House of Commons -would be asked to grant him an annual pension to match -his new rank. Harry remembered what he had heard -pass between Marlborough and Godolphin, and when -the coffee-house gossips supplemented the official -intimation with the rumour that the Countess Sarah had been -violently opposed to her husband's elevation in the peerage, -he understood the meaning of the peculiar tone in which -Marlborough had spoken of acquainting her ladyship. -The new duchess was the theme of much conversation -and many jests in these free-spoken assemblies. -Marlborough was a very great general; everybody was agreed -on that; but it was doubted whether he was master in -his own house; some said he was henpecked; one plain -blunt fellow declared in Harry's hearing that the duke -was as much afraid of his missis as any Thames bargee. -Harry was not interested in Marlborough's domestic -affairs, but his heart sank when he reflected on his own -insignificance beside the great man whom the Queen was -delighting to honour. After all, how could he expect a -man of such eminence, immersed in state affairs, with all -the responsibility for conducting a great campaign, to -remember a country youth whom he had seen once, and -who had made, perhaps, as deep an impression on him -as a fly might make on a lion.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>That night Harry was eating his supper, somewhat -moodily, when Mynheer Grootz, sitting opposite, made -him a sudden proposition.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I tell you dis," he said. "I go back to my country -zoon. I have business wid de armies; I sell hay for -de horses, meal for de men. You are quick, I see dat; -you speak French, enough for my purpose; I give you -good wages if you come and help me in my business."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Harry flushed. The Dutchman dipped a hunk of bread -into his soup and filled his mouth with it, looking down at -the bare deal board the while.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I thank you, Mynheer," said Harry with some -constraint. "I have another purpose, as you know."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Up came the fat forefinger, moist with gravy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I speak plain to you. You have pride; I alzo. But -I have mills, and ships, and vields; dey are mine; I am -rich—ja, rich; I, Jan Grootz. My fader, he was a poor -weaver in Dort; he work hard and die poor; I work hard, -and grow rich. I have what for to be proud. You are a -gentleman; dat is zo; it is good to be a gentleman; it -is not good to be poor. And more, it is not good to zee -money go every day, every day, and wait for some prince -to fill de empty purse. You have pride; for what? For -white hands, and by and by an empty stomach. My hands, -dey are not white, naturlik; but my stomach is full, and -I stand up before any prince; Jan Grootz; zo!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He spread his broad hands before Harry, as though -he were proud even of their horny skin. The action brought -a smile to the lad's gloomy face and dulled the edge of his -irritation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I won't debate the matter with you," he said. "I'm -not afraid of work, I hope, and maybe my white hands -may be red enough before long. I won't despair of my -lord Marlborough yet; and I know your intention is -friendly, Mynheer."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Dutchman grunted, and applied himself again to -his meal.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Great as were Harry's anxieties, Sherebiah's were -perhaps even greater. He also was disappointed by the -forgetfulness or neglect of Marlborough, and concerned -at the constant drain upon his young master's purse; but -he had further causes of trouble of which Harry was -unaware. Ever since their arrival in London Sherebiah had -been possessed by a dread of impending ill. He had -always in mind the interview between Captain Aglionby -and the squire's man at the White Hart tavern, and day -by day expected it to bear fruit to Harry's harm; but for -reasons of his own he hesitated to tell him the plain truth. -He stuck like a leech to Harry when he went walking, and -many times when the lad would rather have been alone -with his dismal thoughts he found Sherebiah at his heel, -like the watch-dog to which he had compared him. He -did not know that even when he succeeded in eluding his -too solicitous henchman, it was only in appearance; for -Sherebiah, armed with a stout ash cudgel, was seldom -many yards behind. Many a night after Harry had gone -disconsolate to his bed, the man wended his way to -Southwark in the hope of making a further discovery; but he -never saw the captain or anyone whom he knew to be -connected with him, and when at last he found an opportunity -of making a discreet enquiry at the hostelry, he was -more alarmed than pleased to find that Captain Aglionby -had departed some time before, and that nothing had -since been heard of him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>One morning, when they had been for about a month -in London, when Parliament had been prorogued, and a -new year had opened, Sherebiah surprised Harry by -suggesting that they should remove to an inn near -Leicester fields.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, you were against it when Mr. Fanshawe proposed -it. How is it that you have changed your mind, -Sherry?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, sir, 'tis this way, if I med be so bold. Your -money be gwine fast, and 'twould never do to begin a more -humble way o' liven here. Nay, what I say is, if you -must pare and scrape, go where you bean't so well known, -and then nobody'll think the worse on 'ee for't."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hang me, who talked of paring and scraping, -Sherry?" cried Harry impatiently.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I axe your pardon, sir," said Sherebiah earnestly, -"but I were not born yesterday. Here are we, four -weeks in Lun'on, and you know yourself how many golden -guineas you brought wi' 'ee, and how many be left. Sure -I bean't a great eater myself, but even my little small -morsel ha' got to be paid for. Master Harry, 'twill be -best for 'ee to do as I say. Ay, an' if I knowed 'ee -wouldn't up and rate me, I'd say another thing, I -would so."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well—what's that?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, I'd say, hand over your purse to me. Nay, -sir, don't be angry; ye're not wasteful, no; but if we go -to another house, I can save 'ee many a penny here and -penny there in ways you wouldn't so much as dream on. -I know Lun'on folk, you see; ay, I know 'em well."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In the upshot, Sherebiah had his way on both points. -The reason for his change of front was that on the -previous afternoon he had seen the squire's man Jock -hanging about the inn, and had found out subsequently -that Captain Aglionby had returned to his old quarters -at the White Hart. It was just as well, he thought, to -take one step further from danger by changing their -lodging. When this was done, and Sherebiah kept the purse, -Harry was amazed to find how much further his money -went. It would not have surprised him if the weekly -bill had been reduced by a small amount; but when he -discovered that, though he fared quite as well, the -expenses were not half what they had been, he began to -think that Sherebiah possessed some talisman against -the cupidity of London innkeepers. He found, too, that -he was left much more to himself, and wondered why, -with the change of lodging, Sherebiah's watchfulness -appeared to have diminished.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was walking with Godfrey Fanshawe one cold -January afternoon by Pye Corner, when he was attracted -by a crowd of people gazing at a street show that, to -judge by their laughter and applause, was exceedingly -entertaining. Elbowing their way through the stragglers -on the outskirts, the two young fellows arrived at a -position whence they could see what was going on. A -group of posture-masters were performing, and at the -moment of Harry's arrival, a short thickset man, dressed -in fantastic costume, and with painted face, was dancing -on his knees with his toes in his hands, keeping time to -the music of a flute and a violin. The tune was a merry -one, and the movements of the acrobat irresistibly funny, -so that every member of the crowd roared with laughter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Adzooks!" exclaimed Fanshawe, "the fellow's face is -the funniest part of the performance. Look'ee, Harry, 'tis -as sober as a judge's on assize; one would think 'twere a -hanging matter."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Harry had been so tickled by this odd mode of dancing -that he had not noticed the performer's features. He -glanced at them now, started with a sudden gasp, and -cried:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"By the Lord Harry, 'tis——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Tis what?" said Fanshawe, looking at him in surprise.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, nothing!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come, I scent a mystery. Unravel, sir!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Tis nothing. See, Fanshawe, the dance is over. Let -us go on."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Without waiting for his companion, he pushed his way -back through the crowd.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Faith, I don't understand you of late, Rochester," said -Fanshawe in a half-vexed tone, when he overtook him. -"You're moody, full of whimsies, all starts and surprises. -Would to Heaven that the duke would bethink him of -that paper you gave him! You need settling in life. Why -don't you go to him, or to Lord Godolphin again? 'Tis -few suitors but would show more perseverance."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not I. 'Twas against the grain to beg even one -favour. I'd rather earn my bread by scraping a fiddle, or -dancing on my knees like—like the poor fellow there."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, let me tell you, you'll rue your independence. -Adsbud, who would get on in this world if he didn't pay -court to the great! Your starveling poet writes a flattering -dedication to a lord—for pay! Your snivelling parson -toadies to the lord of the manor—for a meal! I except -your father, Harry; he was a rare one. 'Tis the way o' -the world; we must all do it, or pay the penalty."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Be the penalty what it will, I'll pay it rather than play -lick-spittle to any man."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Fanshawe shrugged. "By the way," he said, "Mr. Berkeley -is in town—to pay his court to someone, I swear. -'Tis said he is buying a commission for that cub his son; -pray Heaven it be not in my regiment! That's the way -o' the world again. Here's Piers Berkeley, the young -popinjay, all grins and frippery, like to carry the Queen's -colours in a fine regiment because his father has a long -purse, and you, a deal more fit for it, kicking your heels -for want of a rich father or a richer patron. I fear 'tis all -up with your chances now; but I wish you luck. I go to -Flanders in a week; home to-morrow to say good-bye; -who knows when we may meet again!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The two friends bade each other a cordial farewell; then -Harry returned sadly to his lodging. Some two hours -later Sherebiah came back.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What do 'ee think, Master Harry?" he said. "I ha' -seed old Squire."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I knew he was in town," replied Harry. "And what -do you think I've seen, Sherry?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Detecting a something strange in his tone, Sherebiah -gave him a hard look.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I never was no good at guessen," he said. "Mebbe -the German giant at Hercules' Pillars, or the liven fairy -in Bridges Street."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, 'twas no giant and no fairy, but a short man—about -your height, Sherry—with a round face—just as -round as yours—and a solemn look—like yours at whiles; -and what think you he was doing? He was dancing on -his knees, with a crowd of numskulls round him grinning -at his capers, and——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There now, 'twas sure to be found out, I knowed it. -'Twas me—I don't deny it, 'cos bean't no good."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now I know why you wanted to keep the purse, you -old dissembler. You eke out my little store with the pence -your antics fetch. Sherry, I love thee; I do indeed. But -how did you learn those fantastic tricks with your knees?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I ha' done a bit o' tumblen in my time; ay sure."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You seem to have done a bit of everything. But -when? and why? You must tell me all about it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Some day mebbe. Ha' led a motley life for a man o' -peace; so 'tis. 'Twould make old feyther o' mine drop all -his old bones in a heap if so be as he knowed all my lines -o' life. The time'll come to tell 'ee, sir, but 'tis not yet, -no."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>That was the end of Sherebiah's acrobatic performances. -From that day he stuck to Harry more closely than ever; -and the weekly bills increased. They had been in town -now for nearly two months, and by dint of the greatest -economy Sherebiah thought that the money might last for -a fortnight longer. Then the wolf would be at the door. -Harry had not told his man of Jan Grootz's offer, though -he surmised, from a word Sherebiah let fall, that he knew -of it. Hoping against hope, he waited and longed for some -sign from the duke. Every day Sherebiah went to the -Angel and Crown to see if a letter had come, and every -day he came back disappointed. He had not given the -host his new address, for reasons of his own; and when -on one of his visits he learnt that a man had enquired -for the present whereabouts of Mr. Harry Rochester, he -hugged himself on his prudence. He would not have -been so well pleased if he had known that on the very next -day, when he returned from the Angel and Crown by a -roundabout way to his inn in Leicester Fields, he was -shadowed by a man who had waited for several hours -for the opportunity. And he would undoubtedly have -counselled a second change of abode if he had known -that the spy, after assuring himself that Harry Rochester -was a guest of the inn, had gone hotfoot to Captain -Aglionby.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Another week went by. On Saturday night Sherebiah -counted up the contents of his purse, and found that by -the end of the next week he would have spent the -uttermost farthing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I give it back to 'ee, sir," he said. "Come Monday -morn, I go to find work."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not so fast, Sherry. We share alike; when you go -to find work, I go too. The duke may send for me even -at the eleventh hour."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A plague on the duke! I wish I may never hear of -dukes again to th' end o' my mortal days. A duke's a -bubble, and that's the truth on't. Better be an honest -man, as Mynheer Grootz says."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Tis mere forgetfulness, I am sure, Sherry. He has -mislaid the paper, I suspect, and his mind being filled -with weightier matters, has forgotten that even so -insignificant a person as myself exists."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Tis my belief he never did a kindness to man, woman, -or child in all his born days. Why, all the chairmen and -hackney coachmen know un; ay, and madam his duchess -too. My lady will haggle with an oyster-wench over a -ha'penny, and the only thing my lord gives away for nowt -is his smile. Hang dukes and duchesses, say I!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, Sherry, I can't gainsay you, because I don't -know. We'll give him three days' grace, and then——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He sighed. The world looked black to him. He knew -no trade, had practised no art, had no means to enter a -profession. He turned over in his mind the possible -openings. He could not apprentice himself to a merchant or -handicraftsman, for that needed money. He might perhaps -get a clerkship in a goldsmith's or a warehouse; Sir -Godfrey Fanshawe, no doubt, would vouch for his respectability! -He almost envied the footmen of gentlemen of quality, who -wore a livery, earned six pounds a year, and a crown a -week extra for gloves and powder. He writhed on his -sleepless bed that night as he contrasted his present -circumstances with his former prospects and his recent -imaginings. A clergyman,—an officer of the Queen's, -forsooth! he was a pauper, a beggar, with nothing but -his health and his wits. Then he rated himself for his -despondency. "Fancy snivelling," he said to himself, -"because a duke hasn't the grace or the time to -remember a promise! What would my father think of me? -Here have I wasted precious time waiting on a duke's -pleasure when I might have been turning the weeks to -some profit. And I was too proud to accept the Dutchman's -friendly offer. Egad, I'll go to him on Monday and -beg him to give me employment; sink my pride for good -and all."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So possessed was he by his determination that Sunday -passed all too slowly. On Monday morning he walked early -to the Angel and Crown and asked for Mynheer Grootz. -The landlord replied that Mynheer Grootz had left the inn -on Friday, removing all his baggage. He was about to sail -for Holland, and, as the wind favoured, it was probable -that his ship had already left the Thames. This news -was a terrible damper. Harry had built confidently on -the anticipated interview. Mingled with his gratitude for -the coming favour, he even felt a pleasant glow at his -condescension in accepting service so much beneath him. -And now this new house of cards was toppled down! He -turned gloomily away, and wandered aimlessly through the -streets, disposed, under the first sting of the disappointment, -to believe that fate had indeed a spite against him. -He was glad he had said nothing to Sherebiah of his -intention, being in no mood to endure condolences, in word or -look. "What a useless loon I am!" he said to himself -bitterly. "Sherry can earn his living by tumbling in the -streets, and maybe in dozens of other ways; I can do -nothing. Even Piers Berkeley has a commission in the -army—that puppy!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Harry was never long in the dumps. He was only -a boy, and the misfortunes that had befallen him so -suddenly were sufficient excuse for his passing fits of -moodiness; but his was naturally a sanguine temper, and by the -time he reached the inn his brow had cleared and he was -able to eat his dinner with good appetite.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The last but one, Sherry," he said with a smile. "After -to-morrow the purse will be all but dry, and then I shall -have to earn my bread. What do you say? Will you -teach me to stand on my head, to begin with?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Zooks, sir, dont'ee put it so terrible low. Look'ee, -now, I ha' some score o' guineas behind my belt; ye're -welcome to the loan on 'em till your ship do come home."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You're a good fellow, Sherry, but I couldn't think of -it. Do you want to make me still more ashamed of -myself?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well then, sir, why not go to my lord Marlborough's -noble house and walk up and down outside till the duke -comes out, and stand full in his path and catch his -eye—or mebbe his missis'; her med be taken wi' 'ee and -command her good man to remember 'ee, for by all accounts -she——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hold your tongue, sirrah!" cried Harry with a touch -of anger. "Hang about a great man's door, like Lazarus -waiting for the offal! No indeed. Nay. To-morrow we -shall be adrift; pray God a fair breeze will carry us into -port. Sherry, you had better go and tell the landlord we -shall leave him to-morrow. Ask for the reckoning; we will -pay the score and begin the morning at least free men."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In half an hour Sherebiah returned with the bill. Harry -pulled a long face as he glanced at it. He untied the -purse-strings and laid his money out on the table.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Tis worse than I thought," he said ruefully. "In -some unconscionable fashion the bill mounts higher this -week; I am ten shillings short without vails to the -servants."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, I know Lun'on folk, I do. But don't let that -trouble 'ee, sir; ten shillens won't make a great hole in -my store."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But I won't have your money. Nay, Sherry, call it a -whim of mine; 'tis our last day; the charges are mine; -to-morrow we must start afresh. I have some trinkets in -my box; their worth I know not; but you can take one or -two to a goldsmith's and place them with him until the luck -turns. You will do that better than I."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He left the room and came back with a miniature set in -gold and a brooch of antique make. Sherebiah looked at -them with a deliberative air.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Baubles like these sell for next to nowt," he said. -"'Tis not all gold that glitters. But I'll take 'em, sir, -and cheapen 'em as best I may. Be I to pledge 'em in -my name or yours?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It doesn't matter—whichever you like. I'll sit by the -fire and read while you are gone."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, 'tis a raw and nippen afternoon, and there be -true comfort in a log fire."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He flung his cloak over his shoulders and was gone. -Harry went to his room and brought down a volume of his -father's containing Mr. John Milton's poem of "Samson -Agonistes". In the dark afternoon he read for some time -by the light of the fire, finding a certain melancholy -pleasure in fitting Samson's woeful laments to his own case.</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"So much I feel my genial spirits droop,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>My hopes all flat",</span></div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>he murmured, and then closed the book over his finger -and gazed into the ruddy cavern of the fire till his eyes -ached. Sherebiah seemed a long time gone; a feeling of -restlessness stole upon Harry. He let the book fall from -his hand, rose, and paced about the room, stopping once -or twice at the narrow window to look out into the street. -The air was misty, the pavement sticky with mud; every -passing horse stepped under a blanket of vapour; the -wayfarers were muffled about their necks and walked as -though bent under a load. Harry fidgeted, wondering -why Sherebiah was so long. His reading had not cheered -him; his musing did but increase his gloom. At last, -unable to endure inaction longer, he put on his cloak and -hat, took up the cudgel without which, in deference to -Sherebiah's advice, he seldom went abroad, and sallied -forth into the street, to walk off his fit of the dumps, if -that might be.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>By the flickering light above the door he saw three -sailors lurching up the street. He passed them, giving -them but a casual glance, turned into the Strand, and -spent some time looking listlessly into the lighted shops. -At the door of a coffee-house he noticed a group gathered -about a newspaper pasted on the wall. A manuscript -supplement had just been affixed to it. When he could -get near enough to see the writing, he felt a momentary -interest in the announcement he read.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"The Duke of Marlborough has rid post to Cambridge, call'd -thither by the desperate state of the Marquis of Blandford. It is -now 'stablish'd beyond doubt that the young Lord is suffering -from the Small-Pox."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Even the great duke had his troubles. Lord Blandford -was, as Harry knew, Marlborough's only son; he was the -Lord Churchill who had written to Godolphin with boyish -curiosity to know what his title would be when his father -became a duke. Harry passed on, more than ever -convinced that the great man, beset by cares public and -domestic, could have no time to think of the small -concerns of a country parson's son.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He turned into the Savoy and came by and by to the -Temple Gardens, forlorn and desolate in the chill February -evening. Not far behind him three sailors were sauntering -in the same direction, on their way perhaps to rejoin their -vessel in the Thames. The damp cold air struck Harry to -the bone; he shivered and drew his cloak closer around -him, and was on the point of turning to retrace his steps -when there suddenly stood before him a woman, thin-clad, -bare-headed, with a whining child in her arms.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Spare a penny, kind sir, to buy bread. My lips have -not touched food the livelong day, and my little boy is -fair starved. Oh, sir, have pity on a poor lone woman; -spare a penny, kind sir."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Harry stopped and looked at the thin haggard cheeks, -the dark-rimmed eyes, the hair hanging in loose damp -wisps over the brow. The child's feeble moans stabbed -him like a knife; its poor pinched wizened face was a -speaking tale of woe. Loosening his cloak, the woman -all the while continuing her monotonous complaint, he -untied his purse. It contained a guinea and one crown -piece. At that moment the three sailors passed him, -talking loudly, and laughing coarsely as they jostled the -woman in their path.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The poor creature's need is greater than mine," he -thought. "Sherry will bring back some money. Here -you are," he said, handing her the guinea. "And for -God's sake take your little one out of the damp and cold! -Good-night!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Harry moved on, impressed by the spectacle of a misery -deeper than his own, and pursued by the voluble thanks -of the poor woman. He had forgotten his purpose to turn -back; and was only recalled to it by the sight of the three -sailors rolling on ahead. They were walking arm in arm, -and from their gait Harry concluded that the middle one -of the three was intoxicated, and needed the support of his -comrades. One of them glanced back over his shoulder -just as Harry was turning. The next moment there was a -heavy thud; the drunken sailor was on the ground, the -others bending over him. A hoarse cry for help caused -Harry to hasten to the group.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What is amiss?" he asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Be you a surgeon, mate?" replied the man, a thickset -and powerful salt. "Bill be taken wi' a fit, sure enough. -A's foaming at the mouth."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, I'm not a surgeon. I thought he was drunk."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not him. Belay there; let the gentleman see."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Harry went to the man's head and leant over, peering -into his face. Instantly the fallen sailor flung his arms -round Harry's legs and pulled them violently towards him. -Unable to recover himself Harry fell backward, and before -he could cry out a cloak was flung over his head and a -brawny hand had him by the throat. Through the folds -of cloth he heard the men with many oaths congratulate -themselves on the ease with which they had accomplished -their job. For a few moments he struggled violently, until -he felt that resistance was hopeless. Then the cloak was -tied about his neck, and he felt himself carried by two of -the three, one having him by the head, the other by the -heels. They walked swiftly along, and, not troubling to -keep step, jolted him unpleasantly. There was a singing -in his ears; he gasped for breath; and soon his physical -discomfort and his fears were alike annihilated. He had -lost consciousness.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="flotsam"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER VIII</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">Flotsam</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="small">Under the Leads—A Thames-side Attic—A Man of Law—A -Matter of Form—A Question of Identity—A Fine -Mesh—A Dash for Freedom—Help in Need—For the -Plantations—Visitors on Board—Ned Bates—In the -Foc'sle—Sailor's Knots—An Old Coat—Odds and Ends—A -Soft Answer—Overboard—A Dead Heat—A Sea Lawyer—Grootz -Protests—A Stern Chase—Sherry's Story—To the Low Countries</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>When Harry recovered his senses he found himself tied -hand and foot, and with a cloth gag between his teeth. It -was pitch dark; he could hear nothing save a faint scratching -near at hand; mice were evidently at their nocturnal -work. He lay still perforce; he found it impossible even -to wriggle over on to his side. Here was indeed a -culmination of his misfortunes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He tried to think, but the sudden attack and his -subsequent unconsciousness had left his brain in a whirl. -Gradually the sequence of events came back to him: his -walk through the streets towards Blackfriars, the beggar -woman, the three sailors, the pretended fit. What was -the meaning of it? Had he been marked by the press-gang, -and trepanned to serve Her Majesty on the high -seas? Had he been kidnapped, to be robbed or held to -ransom? Hardly the former, for a knock on the head -would have served the kidnappers' ends. Hardly the -latter, for no one could have taken the pains to waylay -for such a purpose a penniless youth with no friends.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Suddenly he remembered the vague uneasiness shown -at times by Sherebiah; his earnest warnings; the cudgel -which after all had proved useless. Sherebiah, it seemed, -had had more definite reasons for alarm than he had -avowed; why then had the silly fellow not spoken his -mind freely? Who was the enemy? What motive could -any person in the wide world have for kidnapping one who -was even yet a boy and had, so far as he knew, done no -harm to a living soul? The more he thought, the more he -was puzzled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was in pain. The cords cut into his flesh; his throat -was parched; he could not swallow. How long was this -torture to continue? Where was he? Where were his -capturers? He longed for a light, so that he might at -least see the prison in which he was confined, and so -diminish even by one his terrible uncertainties. But no -light came, no voice or footfall sounded gratefully upon -his ear; and presently a lethargy stole upon his mind -and all things were again in oblivion.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was roused by a light flashed in his eyes. Dazed -and still only half conscious, he saw an unknown face -bending towards him, and a hand holding a candle. The -man grunted as though with relief to find the captive still -alive; then, setting the candle upon the floor, he removed -the gag. Harry tried to speak, but no word issued from -his lips. The man went from the room, leaving the candle -still burning. By its light Harry saw that he was in a -narrow attic, with rough beams supporting a slanting -roof, and whitewashed walls. There was a sky-light -above him; he could hear the first patters of a shower -of hail.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Presently the man returned bearing a can and a hunk of -bread. Lifting Harry, he held the can to his lips. The -prisoner drank the beer greedily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where am I?" he asked, recovering his voice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hold your jaw!" was the surly answer. "You are -where you are."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why am I brought here? What is to be done with me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hold your jaw, I say! Ye'll get nothing out of me. -Keep a still tongue; for if ye raise your voice someone I -know will find means to quiet ye."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But I insist on knowing," cried Harry in indignation. -"Why was I dogged and attacked in the streets, and -brought captive to——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Stow it! Least said soonest mended. Behave wi' -sense and ye'll be treated according; otherways—well, I -won't answer for't."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Loose my arms then."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, I'll do that for 'ee, and legs too; don't think ye -can run away, 'cos ye can't. Here's your supper; dry, but -'tis drier where there's none. I'll leave ye to't."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Untying the cords, the man gave the bread into Harry's -hand, took up the candle, and went out, locking the door -behind him. Harry could not eat; his limbs were cramped -with his long immobility; when he stood his knees hardly -supported him. But it was pleasant to be able to use -arms and legs once more, and after a time his aching -pains abated. He groped round the room, shook the -door, and found it fast. He could just touch the sky-light -with his outstretched hand, and he felt that the glass was -loose; but he could not remove it unless he stood higher, -and groping failed to find any chair or stool. Escape was -impossible; he could but wait for the morning.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He lay awake the greater part of the night, but was -sound asleep when the same man re-entered with his -meagre breakfast. The morning brought no comfort. A -gray dawn struggled through the grimy sky-light, revealing -the nakedness of the room. Cobwebs festooned the -beams; the boards of the floor were dirty and mouldered; -the walls in places were green with damp. Harry took -silently the food offered him; he was not encouraged by -the previous night's experience to question his taciturn -jailer. The morning passed slowly, irksomely; when the -man returned with another meal at noon, Harry ventured -to address him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How long am I to remain caged here?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I can't tell 'ee, 'cos I don't know."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You're not one of the sailors who trapped me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Lord, no. I wouldn't be a dirty swab for nothing -'cept to 'scape the gallows."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who employs you in this turnkey business?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's my business."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't be surly. I've done nothing to you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, that's true. You ha'n't done nothing to me. -That's true enough."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Will you do something for me, then? You're a good -fellow, I'm sure."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nay, nay, you don't come over me, young master. -Soft speeches ain't no good for a tough un like me. When -I goes out I locks ye in, and if ye holler till ye bust, 'tis no -good, not at all."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I didn't mean that. 'Tis dull as death lying on these -rotten boards with nothing to do; bring me the morning's -paper and I'll thank you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, that's harmless enough, to be sure. Gi' me -twopence and I'll buy ye a </span><em class="italics">Courant</em><span>."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Tis only a penny."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"True; t'other penny's for me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Harry smiled and felt for his purse. It was gone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Plucked clean, eh?" chuckled the man. "Trust your -Wapping swab for that. All the same you shall have the -paper."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He returned with the morning's </span><em class="italics">Courant</em><span>, already well -thumbed. Harry ran his eye over the meagre half-sheet; -there was nothing that interested him except the -announcement of Lord Blandford's death at Cambridge.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The duke has lost his heir," he thought. "He was a -little older than myself. Perhaps it is my turn next."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The day wore on. In the afternoon the door opened -and a stranger entered along with the custodian. By his -cut Harry guessed him to be a lawyer's clerk. His -movements were soft and insinuating; his face was wreathed -into an artificial smile.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good-morning, sir!" he said softly, bowing. "I have -waited upon you to complete a little matter of business; a -mere formality. The document is quite ready; I have here -inkhorn and quill; I have only to ask you to write your -name at the foot."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He unrolled the paper he carried, and signed to his -companion to bring the writing materials.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah! there is no table, I see. You can hardly write on -the floor, sir; James, fetch a table from below.—Your -furniture is scanty, sir," he continued as the man went out; -"in truth, there is nothing to recommend your situation -but its loftiness. You are near the sky, sir, and very -fortunately so, for 'tis murky and damp in the street.—Thank -you, James! Now, sir, everything is in order; you will, if -you please, sign your name where I place my finger, there."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Harry took the pen offered him, and dipped it in the -inkhorn. He gave no sign of his amazement.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," he said, "with pleasure—when I have read the paper."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Surely, sir, at this stage it is unnecessary. Why -delay? I assure you that the document is perfectly in -order, and the phraseology of us men of law is—well, sir, -you understand that a scrivener is paid so much a folio, -and he has no temptation to be unduly brief: he! he!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Still, if you do not object I will read the paper. It is -merely a form, as you say."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Very well, sir," said the man with a patient shrug.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He lifted his hand from the paper, and Harry bent over -the table to read it. The writing was clerkly and precise; -the sentences were long and involved, with no support -from punctuation; but, unfamiliar as he was with legal -diction, Harry had no difficulty in making out the gist of -the document so obligingly placed before him. His heart -was thumping uncomfortably, for all his cool exterior; -and he deliberately read down the close lines slowly in -order to gain time to collect his thoughts. The request -to sign the paper had been surprising enough, but his -bewilderment was increased tenfold when he found what -it was that he was asked to sign.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Stripped of its verbiage, the document stated that -whereas Christopher Butler, gentleman, lately residing -in Jermyn Street over against the Garter Coffee-house, -had been acquitted of all his debts by the good offices -of John Feggans, merchant of the City of London, the -said Christopher Butler hereby entered into an indenture -to serve the said John Feggans in his Plantations in the -island of Barbados for a period of five years. There were -qualifications and provisos and penalties which Harry -passed over; then, having read the principal articles -again, he looked up and said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why should I sign this?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sir!" said the attorney in surprise.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why should I sign this? What have I to do with -Christopher Butler or John Feggans?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The lawyer looked round at the other man as though -asking whether he had heard aright.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am at a loss to give you better reasons than you -know already. Who should sign it if not you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am afraid I must trouble you to explain. See, I find -that Christopher Butler, having incurred debts to a large -amount, has assigned these debts to John Feggans, who -has paid them, and that Christopher Butler indentures -himself a slave to John Feggans, to win his release by -working in the Plantations. I ask you, what have I to -do with all this?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Christopher Butler asks that?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who? What did you say?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Christopher Butler—yourself."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Harry laughed, so great was his sense of relief. It was -all a mistake, then; he had been seized by mistake for -some poor wretched fellow who had lost all his money and -been forced to adopt this, the last resource of impecunious -spendthrifts.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Pardon me," he said. "There has been a mistake. -My name is not Christopher Butler."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He smiled in the attorney's face. The little man looked -staggered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not Christopher Butler?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Certainly not. My name is——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Harry stopped. Some instinct of caution warned him -not to disclose his real name at present.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My name is neither Butler nor Christopher," he added. -"Now, pray let me go."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sir, I have my instructions. I must make enquiries. -This is unlooked for, most perplexing. Pray excuse me -for one moment."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He hurried from the room, leaving the door open. The -surly custodian, who had followed the colloquy with evident -interest, showed that he was not a bad fellow at bottom.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm right glad, that I am," he said. "'Twas my own -thought you was too young to be such a wild dog, or else -you was a most desperate wild one."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Harry did not reply. Through the open door he heard -loud voices proceeding from a room below. He could not -catch the words, but there was something in the tone of -the loudest voice that sounded familiar. He had no -opportunity of forming a conclusion on the matter, for the -speaker's tone was instantly moderated, as though in -response to a warning. Immediately afterwards the -attorney returned, accompanied by a low-browed fellow in -a lackey's livery. The lawyer's smile was as bland as ever -as he came into the room.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Tis not unusual for a man to change his mind, Mr. Butler, -but in this case I fear 't will be a little awkward. -I am instructed that you are the Christopher Butler named -in this indenture, and have to insist on your affixing your -signature to it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nonsense!" said Harry impatiently. "I tell you my -name is not Butler, and I refuse to sign the paper. 'Tis a -preposterous error. I never was in debt in my life; I know -nothing of Feggans; indeed, know hardly a soul in London; -why, I never was in London till a month or two ago."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My dear sir, my dear sir," said the lawyer, as though -expostulating with a hardened liar. Turning to the -lackey, he asked: "You see this young gentleman?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, ay, I do so."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Harry started. The accent was pure Wiltshire, and -fell on his ears like a message from home. He scanned -the man's features, but did not recognize him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What is his name?" went on the lawyer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Butler; ay, 'tis Butler, sure enough."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where did you see him last?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In the Fleet prison, to be sure, ay, and on the -common side, too."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You are sure of this?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, faith, sure enough. I seed the gentleman often -at maister's; many's the time I called a hackney for'n in -the darkest hour o' night, thinken as them as goo fast -won't goo long."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And you were present with your master when this -little matter of business was arranged?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I was so, ay."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The lawyer looked with his eternal smile at Harry.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now, sir," he said, "you will no longer delay to put -your hand to this document."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Harry had been thinking rapidly. He gave up the -hypothesis of error; the lawyer's visit was clearly part of -a deliberate plot; it mattered little whether he was privy -to it, or was innocently carrying out his instructions. -No doubt there was a </span><em class="italics">Christopher Butler</em><span> who had thus -sold himself to pay his debts, but somebody had -determined to substitute Harry for the real man. He had -noticed that the name Christopher Butler was written in -pencil every time it occurred in the document, all else -being in ink; and it suddenly flashed upon him that the -object had been to entrap him into signing his real name, -which would then be substituted for the name pencilled in. -He gave the lawyer a long look, put his hands behind his -back, and said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is waste of time. I refuse."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Again the lawyer smiled and shrugged.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Tis immaterial, sir. This is but a duplicate; the -original was signed three days ago in the Fleet. I have -now to——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Liar!" shouted Harry, springing forward, his face -aflame. The door stood open; only the lackey was in -a direct line between the prisoner and freedom. Before -the man's slow rustic mind had accommodated itself to the -situation, he was sent reeling against the wall by a straight -blow between the eyes. Harry was already out of the -room, at the top of the staircase, when the little attorney -seized him from behind and shouted for help. The -taciturn jailer stood looking on. There were cries from below -and a stampede of feet, and before Harry, with the lawyer -clinging to him, had descended more than four steps he -was met by the three sailors. Swearing hearty oaths they -threw themselves upon him, and in five minutes he was -back in the attic securely trussed up.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Even his surly jailer, bringing him food, looked at him -with a touch of sympathy. Harry's haggard eyes met his -with a mute appeal for help.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Odsbud!" exclaimed the man, "'tis hard on a mere -stripling. If your name bean't Christopher Butler, what -be it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My name is Harry Rochester. 'Tis a vile plot. You -believe me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, I believe ye. Tain't in reason that a boy should -ha' got ocean deep in debt."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Will you help me? You see what a snare is about -me. Will you go to the Star and Garter in Leicester -fields and ask for Sherebiah Minshull? Tell him where -I am, and what they are going to do with me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But what'd be the good, mister?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He would find a way to help me. You would know -that if you knew him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And how much might ye be willing to pay, now?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I haven't a penny, as you know, but he had some -money. Lose no time; pray go now, at once."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, the truth on't is I'm paid by t'other party."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who is it? What is the name of the man who has -hired you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Faith, I don't know, but he have a fine long purse, -and 'tis a fine swashing gentleman. Howsomever, I'll go -to the Star and Garter as you say, and see your -man—what be his name? Minshull; good; I'll go soon, -and—Coming, sir, coming," he added in answer to a hail from -below. "I'll go afore 'tis dark, 'struth, I will."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He left the room, and Harry felt a momentary glow of -hope. It was dulled immediately. The three sailors -re-entered. Without ado they again bound his arms, which -had been loosed to allow of his lifting his food, and carried -him downstairs. Daylight was fading. At the door -Harry looked eagerly around for some person whom a cry -might bring to his rescue. Alas! the house was in a -blind alley, and no one but his captors was in sight. He -did raise his voice and give one resounding call. A gag -was instantly slipped into his mouth, and he was hurried -to the open end of the alley, where a hackney coach stood -waiting. Into this he was thrown; two of the sailors got in -with him, the third mounted to a place beside the driver, -and the vehicle rumbled and jolted over the rough cobbles.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Some twenty minutes later it pulled up at the Tower -Wharf, where Harry had vainly sought for Jan Grootz -a few days before. It was now night, and as he was lifted -out and borne towards the wharf side, Harry saw by the -light of naphtha torches a busy scene. Sailors, -lightermen, stevedores were moving hither and thither; the -ground was strewn with bales and packages; the last -portions of a cargo were being transferred to the hold of -a barque that lay alongside. No one paid attention to the -not unusual spectacle of a young fellow going unwillingly -to a vessel bound for the Plantations. Harry's captors, -joking, chewing, spitting, shoved him with no tender -hands on to the gangway. At the other end of it stood -a dark-featured, beetle-browed old seaman, the captain of -the vessel, bawling orders to this and that member of his -crew.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ha!" he cried, as he saw the new-comer hauled along -in the sailors' arms; "this be the springald? Zooks! ye -are none too soon: tide turns in half an hour."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Here we be, sir, true; and this be Christopher Butler, -mark you, for the Plantations."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Papers?" roared the captain, spitting into the river.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"All taut, sir," replied the man, producing the document -that Harry had refused to sign; it bore a signature now.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Obstropolous, eh?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Changed his mind, sir, it seems, since signing on; -ha' give us some trouble."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oons! We'll cure that. All aboard! Stow the -cockerel in the foc'sle; strap un to a plank; we'll have no -'tarnal tricks."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As Harry was lugged forward he noticed two figures -standing beneath a lamp swinging to one of the yards. -He started, and involuntarily increased his weight upon -his bearers. One of the two came forward a step towards -the captain and, tapping a snuff-box, said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Whom have we here, captain?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A young puppy as ha' run through a duke's fortune -and goes as redemptioner where I've carried many a man -before him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Indeed! So young! 'Tis sad, the wastefulness of -young men in this age."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He took a pinch of snuff and stepped back again. -Harry had scanned his features and heard what he said. -His heart almost stopped beating with surprise, for the -speaker was Mr. Berkeley, the squire, and his companion -was Captain Aglionby. "Did they not recognize me?" -he thought. Surely if he could appeal to the squire he -might even yet, at the last moment, be saved. He -struggled with his captors, but they tightened their hold -upon him and wrenched his limbs with brutal callousness. -He was carried to the sailors' quarters in the foc'sle. His -bonds were loosed for a moment; then he was laid on -a plank and lashed to it. There was a sudden commotion. -The captain roared an order to his men, then went to the -side to meet a custom-house officer who had just come -aboard with two men. An observer would have noticed -that Mr. Berkeley hastily turned his back and retreated -into the shadow.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thought you'd forgot us, sir," said the captain.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, no. But we won't keep you long; you want to -catch the tide."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The rummaging crew began a perfunctory inspection of -the vessel. When they were out of sight Mr. Berkeley -came forward and spoke in a low tone to the captain.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Right, sir," he replied, and sent a man forward with -orders to place Harry in a bunk in the darkest part of the -foc'sle and cover him up. Consequently, when the custom-house -officer reached the sailors' quarters, where several -of the crew were lolling about, Harry lay hidden, -half-stifled beneath a tarpaulin.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What's this?" asked the officer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That!" cried the ship's mate with an oath. "That's -Ned Bates, come aboard mad drunk after a spree. 'Tis -the same every voyage, and the medicine's a dose of rope's -end to-morrow."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The officer laughed and passed on. The inspection was -soon completed; the officer accepted a pinch of the -captain's snuff and left the vessel with his crew, watched by -Mr. Berkeley and Captain Aglionby from the corner of a -shed on the wharf. In a few minutes the ropes were cast -off, and with creakings and heavings the ship moved into -the current and began to float down on the ebb-tide -towards the sea.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The tarpaulin was pulled off Harry by a man who took -the opportunity to curse him. The gag was removed from -his mouth; then he was left to himself. He thought he -had reached the lowest depths of misery. Something he -had learnt of the awful fate in store for him in the -Plantations. Many such poor wretches as himself had sailed -across the seas in the hope of redeeming themselves from -debt by years of unremitting toil. On their arrival they -had become, body and soul, the property of their masters. -Treated as no better than convicts, they were put to the -most degrading labour, and their employers contrived to -keep them, even as labourers, so deeply in debt for clothes -and the common necessaries of life that the day of -redemption never dawned for them, and they lived and died in -abject slavery. This was to be his fate! What a declension -from the bright destiny that seemed to be before him -but a few months ago!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The foc'sle was dark and noisome. The smell of bilge -water and the reek of the lamp affixed to the side -nauseated Harry. Physically and mentally, he was desperately -wretched. And through all his misery he was overcome -by sheer puzzlement. Hitherto he had surmised that, -being young and strong, he had been marked as an easy -prey by the professional kidnappers who prowled the -streets of London, trepanning unfortunate young men -likely to fetch a good price with shipmasters or unscrupulous -colonial merchants. But the unexpected sight of -Mr. Berkeley in Captain Aglionby's company on deck had -startled him into a new theory. Many things recurred to -his mind. He remembered the bitter feud that had -subsisted between his father and the squire; the disappearance -of Captain Aglionby after a quarrel, as village gossip -said, with Mr. Berkeley; the horseman riding after the -coach; the strange warnings he had received from -Sherebiah. He could not but feel that these incidents were in -some way connected; he began to be convinced that his -present situation was due ultimately to the enmity of the -squire—the gaunt, sinister old man who was indirectly -responsible for his father's death. But though this was -his conclusion, he was none the less puzzled. Why should -the malignity of the squire pursue the son, now that the -father was removed? What harm had </span><em class="italics">he</em><span> ever done, or -could he ever do, to the lord of the manor? Was the -squire so unrelenting, was his malice so remorseless, that -he must bring black ruin upon a boy in vengeance for his -baulked will? It seemed inconceivable. Yet what other -motive could he have? The more he thought of it, the -more puzzled Harry became.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The vessel was slowly threading its way down the river -among the many vessels, large and small, that lay at their -moorings. At times it stopped altogether, and from the -deck resounded shouts and oaths at the obstacles that -checked its course. By and by some of the sailors came -forward for a spell of sleep, and Harry, kept wide awake -by his hunger and discomfort, saw them tumble into their -bunks and soon heard their snores.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It would take several hours to reach the open sea. Was -there a chance that, before the vessel left the Thames, he -might even yet escape? To make the attempt was mere -instinct with a high-spirited boy. The odds seemed all -against him. To begin with, he was bound hand and foot -to a plank, so that it was impossible even to bend his body. -Suppose he rid himself of his bonds, there would be many -of the crew on deck while the vessel threaded the crowded -water-way, and he would be seen if he sprang overboard; -and how could he free himself from the ropes? The idea -had not come to him for the first time. When he was -being trussed up he had remembered an old trick taught -him by Sherebiah, acquired during his mountebank days, -when he had mystified rustic spectators by escaping from -ropes tied by the most expert hands in the village. He -had so stiffened his muscles that he could wriggle out of -any ordinary knot. But the situation was rendered more -difficult by the plank. He could not lift himself, nor turn -on his side. Lying on his back, he tried to ease the -pressure of the ropes by the muscular movements he had -practised with Sherebiah in sport. But he found, not to his -surprise, that sailors were more skilful than anyone who -had previously experimented with him. The tension was -so great that he had the barest margin to work upon. -Force was useless; it would only have the effect of cutting -into his flesh and causing his hands and wrists to swell. -But his whole mind was now bent upon one desperate -venture, and, while the men snored around him, he began -to strain on the ropes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For some time all his straining was of no avail. At last -he felt the rope about his wrists give a little. Taking -advantage of the slackened tension, he contrived, after -what seemed an hour to him, to turn his joined wrists -outwards, and in a few more minutes they were free. They -ached intolerably; he felt as if all power was gone from -them,—as if he could never grip anything firmly again. -He waited until the numbing pain was abated, then set to -work to free his elbows. These had been separately tied, -and after many unsuccessful efforts he almost despaired. -At length, however, he managed to shift his elbows down -over the edges of the plank, which he was then able to -use as fulcrums. Pressing as hard as possible, he forced -the ropes slightly slack, then jerked himself sideways and -almost on to his face. In doing so he more than once -interrupted the snores of the man beneath him, and once -desisted in alarm as the fellow growled out an oath. At -last his elbows were free, and he lay panting with exertion -and hope.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But now that the upper part of his body was unbound, -he found himself confronted by an unexpected difficulty. -The board to which he was strapped extended down to -his heels, and the knot being tied at the far end, he was -unable to reach it. A man is never so agile with his -ankles as with his wrists, and the plank had effectually -prevented Harry from making use of Sherebiah's trick in -regard to his feet. It was impossible to reach the knots -with his hands, for the roof of the foc'sle was so low that -he could not rise to an upright posture in the bunk. He -worked away at the upper part of the rope, but it was so -taut that he could not ease it appreciably. He found -himself making even more noise than before, and dreaded lest -one of the crew should awaken too soon. Breathless with -his exertions, he lay still to think. Was he to be baffled -after all? Some hours must have passed since the vessel -left her moorings, and though her progress had been -interrupted and was always slow, yet she was drawing -nearer and nearer to the mouth of the river, bringing -him nearer and nearer to his doom.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A dull dazed hopelessness was gaining possession of -him. He lay with wide-open eyes, staring at nothing; -then caught himself following the slight pendulous motion -of a seaman's coat that hung from a nail in one of the -beams. To and fro it swung, with a regularity that -became at last desperately annoying. But all at once -that rough stained garment became to him the most -interesting and important thing in the world. It seemed -to shed a bright ray of hope. Never a seaman but had -a knife; fervently did Harry pray that the owner of this -coat had not emptied its pockets. Stealthily he bent over. -The right-hand pocket was easily within reach. He put -his hand in, and drew out one after another a pipe, a -pouch, a flint, a steel, a tinder-box, a string of beads, a -corner of mouldy biscuit, a horn snuff-box, a tattered letter, -a plug of black tobacco, a broken comb, a red handkerchief, -and a nutmeg; but no knife. He could only just -touch the left-hand pocket; he could not put his hand in. -He pulled at the coat, and held it with one hand, bringing -the pocket within reach; then he plunged the other hand -into its depths. He touched a metal case; it clicked against -something, and he held his breath, hoping the sound had -not been heard. No one spoke or moved. He felt further; -his heart gave a great leap for joy, for he could not mistake -the touch of the rugged handle of a clasp-knife. Eagerly -he drew it out; to cut the rope was the work of an instant; -he was free.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But he was not yet out of danger. His limbs were -loosed, but he was still imprisoned in an outward-bound -ship. There was only one way of reaching safety: to gain -the deck, spring overboard, and swim to land. He knew -nothing about ships; he could row and swim, but till he -came to London he had seen no vessel larger than a -rowing boat. He guessed that while the barque was still in -the Thames only a small portion of the crew would be on -duty; but he did not know at what part of the ship they -would be, nor where he would run least danger of -detection. It was still dark; he might easily stumble as he -moved about amid unfamiliar surroundings, and there -was the risk that, even if he reached the bulwarks safely -and sprang over, he might never succeed in reaching land -alive. He did not know the width of the stream; he -had been so long without food and had expended so -much energy during the last few hours that he was in -no condition to endure long fatigue. It would perhaps be -better to rest for a little, and seize a moment as day was -breaking, when there would be light enough to guide his -steps.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His body was still tingling from the strain of the ropes, -but with the passing minutes his physical ease increased, -and he was able to think more and more calmly. He -heard the clang of a bell. Immediately afterwards a -sailor came into the foc'sle, woke the man below Harry, -and, when he had tumbled grumbling out of his berth, -lay down in his place. It was a change of watch.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where are we, Bill?" asked the man who had been roused.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Opening up Gravesend," was the reply; "and a dirty -night. Raining hard, a following wind; we'll make a -good run out."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The man was asleep as soon as he had finished the -sentence, and Harry was reassured by his snores. Gravesend, -he supposed, was a river-side village; if he could -make his dive there he might find helping hands on shore. -He wondered what the time was; the bells that he heard -at intervals conveyed no information to him. He raised -himself on his elbow and glanced round. It seemed to -him that, in the opening to his left, the darkness was -thinning; and the vessel was heaving to. The time had -come for his venture.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He sat up as high as his confined quarters allowed and -surveyed his position. There were five men within the -narrow space, all asleep, snoring in various keys. From -above came now and then the sound of a voice and the -tramp of feet; nothing else was to be heard. Slipping his -leg over the side of the bunk, Harry paused for a moment, -then slid to the floor. His knee knocked the edge of the -bunk below; the seaman turned over with a grunt and -asked sleepily, "Be it time already?" It was better to -answer than to remain silent, thought Harry. Making -his voice as gruff as possible, he said quickly:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No; keep still, you lubber."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Lubber yourself; I'll split your——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His threat ended with a snore. Harry waited a moment -to assure himself that all was quiet again; then, divesting -himself of his long coat, which he knew would be a serious -encumbrance in the water, he groped cautiously towards -the opening, now showing as a gray patch in the gloom. -Rain and sleet beat in upon him as he halted for a moment -and threw a quick glance around before emerging on to -the deck. In the waist of the vessel on the port side two -men were hauling up casks, probably belated provisions, -from a river craft lashed alongside; three or four seamen -were high up in the rigging, and the mate was bellowing -to them hoarse commands in what to Harry's landsman's -ears was a foreign tongue. Harry felt that it was now or -never; but, even as he prepared to spring, there was a -heavy footfall above, and a man dropped from the foc'sle -deck and alighted a couple of yards away. He swung on -his heel to enter the foc'sle, and the two stood face to face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Harry recognized the broad coarse features of the sailor -to whose feigned fit his easy capture was due. The man's -first impression was evidently that Harry was one of the -crew; he quickly saw his mistake, but before his thought -could translate itself into action Harry, who had the -advantage of being strung up for just such a meeting, sprang -upon him as a bolt from a bow. Reeling under a deftly -planted blow the man slipped and fell heavily to the deck. -Harry was past him in an instant, gained the side of the -vessel, and, vaulting lightly on to the bulwark, had dived -into the river before the astonished seaman could recover -his breath to shout an alarm. In a few seconds Harry rose -to the surface, shook the water from his face, and struck -out for the shore.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Behind him he heard the angry shouts of the sailors, -and afterwards the click of oars working in the -row-locks. A boat was evidently in pursuit. No doubt the -craft alongside had been cast loose, for there could not -have been time to lower a boat. Could he reach land in -time? His dive had been so hasty that he had not had -time to look around and select his course. But now, -through the pelting rain, he gazed ahead to find the nearest -way to safety. Judging by the noise of the oars, the boat -was rapidly overhauling him, for although he had left his -coat behind, he made but slow progress in his water-logged -clothes. His view of the shore was intercepted by a few -small one-masted vessels lying at anchor, and by a large -brig moored about a hundred yards off the clump of trees -that formed the western boundary of Gravesend. If he -could gain the other side of the brig he thought he might -dodge his pursuers. But he doubted whether his strength -and speed could be sustained so long. The seamen were -pulling with a will; the master himself was in the boat -urging them on with oaths and execrations.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Harry swam on gamely, changing his stroke in the -effort to husband his strength. But he had only had a -couple of minutes' start, and looking over his shoulder -he saw that with the best will in the world he must soon -be overtaken. Only twenty yards separated him from the -boat; he had just come opposite the poop of the stationary -brig; he wondered whether a shout would bring anyone to -his assistance, when a small skiff appeared from round the -stern of the vessel, only a few feet distant from him. It -had just put off from the brig and was swinging round -towards the shore. Harry gave a hail; the men in the -boat rested on their oars; collecting his remaining strength -in a few desperate strokes he got alongside, and clutched -the gunwale just as he felt himself at his last gasp. At -the same moment the pursuing boat came up, and the man -at the tiller had some ado to avoid a collision.</span></p> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 82%" id="figure-104"> -<span id="at-the-last-gasp"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="At the Last Gasp" src="images/img-121.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">At the Last Gasp</span></div> -</div> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Back water!" roared the master.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The way on the boat was checked; it came to a stop -a few yards beyond the skiff and nearer the shore. -Meanwhile Harry had been dragged on board the skiff, and lay -drenched, shivering, gasping across the thwarts.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Cotched, the villain!" cried the ship's master -exultantly. "Pull alongside, men."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A few strokes brought the two boats together.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll thank ye to hand un over," said the master. -"Zooks! he shall pay for this."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He received no reply, but instead a voice which Harry, -half dead as he was from cold and fatigue, recognized with -a leaping heart, ordered the crew of the skiff to pull back -to the brig.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hi!" roared the master, as the boats parted, "are ye -deaf or what? Hand over that there runaway; 'tis a -deserter. Pull after 'em, men."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The boat started in pursuit, the master shouting with -increasing anger. The skiff came below the brig's stern, -where a rope ladder was hanging over the side.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Gi' un up, d'ye hear? Gi' un up, or 'twill be the worse -for ye."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Gif him up! Ja, ja; certainly, but not now, mine -vrient; not now, and not to you. Dat is not my way. -We do not dings zo in Holland."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What in thunder are ye gibbering about?" roared the -master—"you dirty swab of a Dutchman, you! I tell you -he is a deserter. Hand un over, or I'll have the law of ye."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"De law! Zo, mine vrient. We will talk over dis -matter as good vrients."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Grootz sat down, while the men on the brig prepared to -haul Harry, now limp with utter exhaustion, on deck.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I, Jan Grootz, find dis young man in de river; ver -well. He float in de river; well again; he is what de -law call flotsam—dat is zo. Now, mine vrient,"—here -Grootz's fat forefinger began to waggle—"flotsam, say -de law, belong to de sovereign, dat is, to de lady Queen -Anne. What is for me to do in such a case—for me, Jan -Grootz? I render to Cæsar—who is de Queen—dat which -is Cæsar's—dat which belong to de gracious majesty Queen -Anne. Derefore I gif up dis young man to de Queen's -officer at Gravesend—perhaps, when he is dry. Zo!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>While this speech was being delivered in the Dutchman's -slow drawl, with a placid persuasiveness suited to a -discussion between friends who did not see quite eye to eye, -the master had been growing purple with rage. He was -about to explode into invective when he saw that Harry -was being swung up.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Give way, men!" he shouted. "Run her alongside."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He held himself in readiness to board the skiff as soon -as he came within leaping distance. But Grootz, with an -activity little to be expected in so burly a frame, seized -an oar that had been shipped by one of his men now -lending a hand in hoisting Harry on board, and, springing -to his feet, with a shrewd thrust sent the master spinning -over the side of his boat into the river. He came up -nearly a dozen yards away; his crew pulled towards him, -and when he was at last hauled into the boat he was -fifty yards down the river. He had evidently shipped a -good deal of water, for Grootz's blow must have knocked -the breath out of his body; the purple hue of his cheeks -had given place to a mottled sickliness. He gasped and -puffed and swore; but Harry was by this time safe on -board the brig; to take him by main force was clearly -impossible; and the discomfited master had no alternative -but to regain his own vessel.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Harry was carried to the cabin, his wet clothes were -taken off, he was wrapped in blankets and forced to -swallow a good bumper of cordial before the Dutchman -would allow him to speak.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Zo!" exclaimed Grootz when he was comfortable.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You saved my life, sir," said Harry warmly. "I was -nearly done."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Zo!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They were taking me to the Plantations. I never heard -from Lord Marlborough. They trapped me. All my -money was gone. I went to the Angel and Crown to -find you, to ask you to give me work; you had sailed."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Zo! talk no more. Flotsam! Gunst! I tell you dis, -my vrient; put not your drust in princes: every man learn -dis zoon or late: better zoon. Zo!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The honest Dutchman left Harry to sleep while he -resumed his interrupted journey to the shore. But he -had barely reached the deck when he heard himself hailed -by a stentorian voice from a wherry sweeping by under -full sail and the rapid ply of oars.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ahoy there! Ha' ye seed a ship named the </span><em class="italics">Merry -Maid</em><span> a-sailen down-along this way?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ja, ja!" cried Grootz, chuckling; "what for you ask?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But the man gave him no answer; only called to the -two men rowing the wherry to pull more lustily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hi!" shouted the Dutchman in his turn; and though -his voice was usually low he could roar at need. -"Hi! you be too late!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The man did not turn his head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hi! she is two mile ahead!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sherebiah gave no sign. He was rapidly passing out -of earshot.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hi!" shouted Grootz still more loudly. "Sherebiah, -stop! Mynheer Harry is here!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sherebiah jumped up so violently that, heavy as the -wherry was, he almost upset it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Master Harry?" he roared.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ja! I tell you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The wherry slewed round and headed toward the brig. -Grootz lit his pipe and watched, his little eyes twinkling -with amusement. Sherebiah looked positively aggrieved -when he came aboard.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oons! 'tis sinful to tear a poor mortal man's heart -out, 'tis so. Here be I, a-chasen a villanous creature, -the </span><em class="italics">Merry Maid</em><span> by name, thinken as Master Harry were -a forsaken prisoner aboard on her, and 'tis all much ado -about nothen, and he a-laughen in his sleeve along o' -your cargo! I wouldn' ha' thowt it, not I. Where -be the deceiven trickster?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Asleep," said Grootz, with a puff of smoke. "Flotsam!" He -chuckled and guffawed; it was a joke that -would last his lifetime.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What your meanen may be I don't know, Mynheer; -but 'tis me as ought to be sleepen. No sleep ha' I had, -not a wink, since Master Harry played this trick on me; -ay, 'twas sinful. And I'll punch Ralph Aglionby's costard, -I will so, first chance I gets."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Tell me about it," said Grootz.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sherebiah related how, on returning to his inn with -the money for which he had pledged Harry's trinkets, he -was surprised to find his young master absent. As time -passed on, and he did not make his appearance, Sherebiah -became thoroughly alarmed. About seven o'clock in the -evening he hurried off to Southwark, and enquired of -the porter at the White Hart whether Captain Aglionby -was within. The captain had left a week before, said the -porter, in company with a tall, bent, shabby old gentleman. -Sherebiah's worst fears were realized. For weeks -he had expected the stroke, and now it had fallen -suddenly, and at a time when he was not at hand to parry -it. He hastened at once to the house in which, as he -had made it his business to know, Mr. Berkeley was -staying. Neither the squire nor Captain Aglionby was at -home. Sherebiah thereupon took his station at a -convenient spot near the house whence he could see without -being seen, and some time after midnight was rewarded. -The two men he sought returned together. Allowing a -little time to elapse, he went to the house and asked to -see Captain Aglionby, giving the servant a vague message -which he believed would bring the captain to the door. -Instead of him, however, Mr. Berkeley himself appeared. -To Sherebiah's question as to what had become of Harry, -the squire replied coldly that he knew nothing about him, -and shut the door in his questioner's face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, I were a fool to ask un," admitted Sherebiah -ruefully. "I had ought to ha' thowt o' poor old feyther -o' mine."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sherebiah was determined to have his question answered -somehow. He was early at his post next morning, keeping -a careful eye upon the door of the house. He saw the -squire and Captain Aglionby issue forth together and -visit a lawyer up four flights of stairs in a house near -Holborn Bars. He followed all three to a house in a -blind alley farther east, never suspecting that Harry was -there confined. He shadowed them when they left, saw -them enter a coffee-house, followed them when they came -out, and then lost sight of them. Returning to his own -inn to enquire whether anything had been heard of Harry, -he found that a man had called an hour before and left -a message for him, asking him to call without delay at -an address in Smithfield. Hastening there at once, he -learnt from Harry's late jailer how he had been kidnapped -and shipped off to the Plantations. At full speed he rushed -to the wharf, only to learn that the </span><em class="italics">Merry Maid</em><span>, William -Shovel master, had just taken the tide and was now on -her way to the sea.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You med ha' knocked me down wi' a feather. I sat -me down on a box under a gashly torch, and thinks I, -'Rafe Aglionby be too much for 'ee this time, Sherebiah -Stand-up-and-bless.' I stood up, I did; time an' tide -waits for no man; 'twas a sudden thought; I seed a -sailen wherry alongside wharf, and two big swabs hangen -round. I showed 'em a crown a-piece, and said there's -more to foller, and mebbe summat out o' the Queen's -purse too; and here I be, all my poor mortal flesh -a-wamblen like a aspen. 'Tis tooken a year off my life, -ay, 'tis so."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jan Grootz smiled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mine good vrient," he said, "I tell you dis. You -will come ashore with me; we will go to your inn and -fetch your goods. It will delay us, but only one day. -Den my ship sails; Amsterdam; you will come?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sakes! What about Master Harry, then?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He alzo."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oons! Be that th' order o' the day? Well, 'tis a -long lane has no turnen. Will there be time for me to go -and ha' a few words wi' Rafe Aglionby?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, I'll save 'em up. A rod bean't none the wuss -for bein' salted. Ay, and I were not always a man o' -peace!"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="monsieur-de-polignac-presses-his-suit"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER IX</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">Monsieur de Polignac Presses his Suit</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="small">Scenes in Holland—Feeding an Army—A Tulip Bulb—On -the Road—The Captain's Man—A Break-Down—Double -Dutch—The Captain Again—A Diversion—An Entry—An -Exit—Hospitality—Confidences—Rejected -Addresses—Palmam qui Meruit—Persuaded—Adèle</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"Hundred barrels pork, tousand quarters flour, five -hunderdweight sausages, twenty gallon schnapps, for de -garrison of Breda. Ver well, Monsieur de Tilly, de -order shall be done."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mynheer Jan Grootz put down the paper from which -he had been translating, and pushed a pair of horn -spectacles up his brow.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mynheer Harry," he continued, "you will see to dis. -Such an order yesterday could not have been met—no. -But wid Peter Kolp's man coming from Helmund it is -to-day anoder ding. In Helmund, wid Peter Kolp, dere -is pork, flour—plenty; yes, my poor vrient Kolp dink -dere is too much; he alzo would supply de army. -'Grootz,' he say, 'ask too high prices. As for me, -Kolp, I am a cheap man. But Grootz, he is a sad -rascal.' But I tell you dis: dey say my poor vrient -Kolp forget his measures and weights, he dink fourteen -ounces weigh one pound, and sometimes, dey say, he dink -ten barrel bad pork make twelve good; so my poor vrient -is not now permitted to contract no more; and he sell me -his stores. Truly, he is a cheap man! Zo!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a chuckle of satisfaction in the concluding word.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You will start early in de morning, Mynheer Harry," -he resumed, "wid ten carts; Helmund is twenty mile -beyond Tilburg, and Tilburg fifteen beyond Breda. You -will get de stores from Kolp at Helmund and return -wid dem to Breda and hand dem over to the commissary -dere. Take wid you your man Sherebiah, and Piet -Brinker to show you de road; he will pick drivers for -de carts. We hear noding of forayers lately; zo I hope -you have a safe journey, And, Mynheer Harry, never -forget dat poor Kolp cannot count, and do not know -good pork from bad, and mistake chalk for flour. You -will examine dese little matters wid much care; zo?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The merchant replaced his glasses on his nose and -proceeded to dictate an invoice to one of his clerks. He -sat at a desk in a low-pitched room next to the roof of a -gabled house near the Gevangen Poort in Bergen-op-Zoom. -The lower floors were devoted to the living apartments; -the warehouse and offices were at the top, goods being -raised and lowered by means of a crane-like apparatus -that projected from the wall like a yard-arm. It was not -Mynheer Grootz's home; that was at the Hague; but -Bergen-op-Zoom at the head of the eastern arm of the Scheldt -was for the present his business head-quarters, conveniently -situated in regard to the scattered armies whose -wants he had to supply.</span></p> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 83%" id="figure-105"> -<span id="map-of-the-low-countries-in-1703"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="Map of Part of the LOW COUNTRIES in 1703." src="images/img-128.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">Map of Part of the LOW COUNTRIES in 1703.</span></div> -</div> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was early in the month of June. For more than three -months Harry Rochester had been engaged with the -worthy Dutchman, who was kept busy morning, noon, and -night in provisioning the allied forces now entering upon -a new campaign. He found his employment very much -to his taste, and his employer the best of friends. Grootz -never alluded to the time when his offer of employment -had been slighted, and Harry often smiled as he -remembered the pride with which, in the days of his high -expectations, he had refused to cast in his lot with a mere -merchant. The novelty of the scenes amid which he -found himself on his arrival in Holland had banished his -ambitions for the time. The flat country, with its dunes -and dykes, its endless canals and innumerable windmills; -its quaint towns, in which chimneys and steeples and -masts seemed so curiously jumbled; the stolid, hospitable -people—the men with their big pipes and snuff-boxes, the -women with their characteristic head-dress, the girls with -the riband of maidenhood at their right brow; the strange -customs—the </span><em class="italics">spionnen</em><span> at the windows, an arrangement of -mirrors by which from the upper rooms all that passed in -the street below could be seen within; the placard at the -door when a child was born; the incessant scrubbing that -went on indoors and out; the </span><em class="italics">trekschuiten</em><span> and </span><em class="italics">pakschuiten</em><span> -that conveyed goods and passengers along the canals, -drawn sometimes by horses, more often by a stout mynheer -and his vrouw; the storks nesting among the chimney-pots; -the stiff formal gardens with their beds of tulips—everything -interested him; his low spirits vanished into -thin air, and he enjoyed life with a zest he had never -known before.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His duties had taken him into many parts of the country. -In March he was at the Hague when the Duke of -Marlborough returned to resume command of the forces, and -he did not even feel a pang when, a humble member of the -crowd, he saw the great soldier whose forgetfulness or -insincerity had so woefully disappointed him. He knew -the potteries of Delft, and the cheese-factories of Gouda; -he had heard the great organ of Haarlem, and the sweet -carillons of Antwerp, and practised skating for the first -time on a frozen arm of the Y. Finding it difficult to get -on without a knowledge of Dutch, the only language -understood by his teamsters and the country people, he -had thrown himself energetically into the study of the -language; and he had, besides, picked up a smattering of -everyday German phrases from one of his men, a German -Swiss. After his natural British diffidence in adventuring -on a foreign tongue had worn off, he delighted to air his -new accomplishment with the comely juffrouws whom he -met in the course of his journeys. He dropped into the -routine of the business so rapidly that Mynheer Grootz -once told him he was a born merchant—a compliment -which, to his own surprise, did not give the least shock -to his dignity.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His intelligence and energy completely won the old -Dutchman's confidence, and more than once he had been -entrusted with the delivery of supplies to the army in the -field. It was not always possible for the military authorities -to furnish convoys for these consignments, and they -were therefore usually accompanied by well-armed men to -guard against the danger of surprise by robbers and -freebooters. Many small bands of outlaws were abroad in -Holland and Germany, taking advantage of the disturbed -state of the country to prey upon the inhabitants, under -the pretence of making requisitions for one or other of the -contending forces. These marauders terrorized the remoter -districts. Hitherto Harry had been fortunate in avoiding -any danger of this character. Grootz was as phlegmatic -and silent as ever, but he showed in his quiet way that -he was pleased with the lad's unvarying diligence and -success.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Harry woke early. The sun was bright but the air cool, -and he felt full of vigour, eager to set off on this the -longest expedition he had yet taken. Mynheer Grootz -was a bachelor, and his breakfast-table was served by a -buxom old housekeeper who, after a brief season of -jealousy, had capitulated to Harry's cheerfulness and -courtesy. At breakfast the merchant in his slow, ponderous -manner repeated his customary warnings to Harry to -guard against surprise, and to be punctilious about getting -a formal receipt for his supplies from the commissary of the -force to which they were to be delivered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Here is de paper," he said, handing it to Harry. -"Make him sign it; he may be a count or marquis or -someding of de sort, and I trust none of dem."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Harry laughed. "Put not your trust in princes" -seemed to be the prime motto of his host's business -career.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Very well, Mynheer," he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And here is a packet I wish you to deliver. Not for -de army, dis; no; it is for a vrient of mine dat live a -few miles dis side of Helmund. I promised her a tulip -bulb; dis is it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He handed to Harry a small packet, on which the address -was written.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The Comtesse de Vaudrey," he read aloud. "That is -a French name?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ja! De lady is French, a widow, of a family dat -had to leave France because of the persecutions. She is -French, but a vrient alzo. If you need help, she will -give it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I hope she is not a very great lady. I have met no -lady here higher in rank than a burgomaster's vrouw, and -I thought she rather looked down on me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The comtesse is mine vrient," repeated Grootz in a -tone that implied there was no more to be said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A few minutes afterwards they left the breakfast-room. -At the outer door ten empty wagons were already waiting -with their drivers, and as Harry prepared to mount to his -place on the foremost, Sherebiah came up with the remains -of his breakfast in his hand. Grootz repeated his -warnings; Harry smiled and waved his good-bye to Gretel the -housekeeper, who stood at the door with her hands folded -in front of her ample person, and the line of carts -moved off.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Harry Rochester in charge of the convoy was a -different being from the pale thin youth who had left -England four months before. His work had had the effect -of hardening his muscles and developing his physique; and -constant exposure to the air and sun had browned his -cheeks and brightened his eye. But Sherebiah presented -a still greater contrast. From the moment of landing on -Dutch soil he had ceased to shave, with the result that his -lips and cheeks and chin were now covered with a thick -growth of stiff brown hair. Harry did not like the change, -but when he asked the reason of this departure from old -habit Sherebiah merely said that he had concluded shaving -to be a waste of time. The reply was hardly satisfactory, -but Sherebiah was never communicative unless he wished -to be so, and Harry let the matter drop.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The roads were heavy, and the horses were of the -large-limbed variety that spell endurance rather than pace. -Empty as the wagons were, only twenty miles were made -that day, and Harry decided to stay for the night at the -Crown Inn at Breda. The town was garrisoned by four -battalions of infantry, four regiments of cavalry, and a -regiment of dragoons, and it was for these that the -supplies were required. Harry sought out the commissary, -and promising to deliver the goods within two days, -went for a stroll through the town, leaving Sherebiah to -bespeak supper at the inn. He roamed through the winding -streets, one of which ended with a windmill; admired -the warm-toned old house-fronts; William the Third's -chateau, encircled by the river Merk; and the fine -Hervormde Kerk, with its lofty octagon tower and bulbous -spire. On returning to the inn he was met by Sherebiah -in some excitement.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What med 'ee think, sir? Who'd 'ee believe I ha' seed?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"John Simmons, sir, large as life."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Captain Aglionby's man—the man who got a crack on -the head on the Roman road?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The very same."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have often wondered how he managed to escape -from old Nokes the constable. 'Twas whispered that the -captain himself had a hand in it. I suppose he came to -this country for safety."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, not for riches, so 'twould seem," replied Sherebiah -rather hurriedly. "A' was down at heel, more like a -ragged vagrom than the smart soul as drank his pint at -the Berkeley Arms. Mother Joplady couldn' abide un."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Did he see you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not him. Nor I don't want to see un, the mumpen -cockney.—Supper's ready, sir."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Next morning Harry proceeded with his convoy along -the Eyndhoven road and arrived late at his destination, -Helmund. Almost the whole of the following day was -occupied in loading his wagons and procuring extra carts -to carry the stores collected by Grootz's client, Peter Kolp. -At his first interview with that "poor friend" of Mynheer -Grootz, Harry made it clear that, as a matter of form, the -provisions would be carefully tested in quality and quantity, -with the result that they were found to be excellent and -full weight. It was four o'clock before he was ready to -start for Breda. He followed a different route on his -return journey. Madame de Vaudrey's house, Lindendaal, -lay on the upper road toward Boxtel—a safer road to -travel, as a report had come in that the French had made -their appearance near Turnhout, to the south, and were -coming apparently in the direction of Eyndhoven.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Unluckily, the convoy had proceeded only a few miles -on its return to Breda when, as it was crossing the Aa -river, one of the horses took fright and toppled the cart -into the water. Fortunately the stream was sluggish and -shallow, but Harry saw that it would take some time to -extricate the wagon from the mud and collect what part -of its load was worth saving. Leaving Piet Brinker in -charge of the work, he decided to push on himself with -the remainder of the convoy, deliver the packet he carried -for Madame de Vaudrey, and wait for the rescued wagon -to overtake him. He knew that, with the hospitality -universal in Holland, the countess would not allow him to -proceed unrefreshed, and he was in truth not a little glad -of the opportunity of seeing the lady whom Grootz had so -emphatically called his friend. He therefore drove on. -The wagon wheels ploughed deep furrows in the heavy -sandy roads, and the big Dutch horses plodded on steadily -but slowly. The road wound by and by through avenues -of elms, pruned of their branches in the Dutch way, and -looking to Harry's English eyes very starved and ugly. -At length he came to a wall on the right that appeared -to enclose a park of some considerable size. A peasant -was passing, whom he hailed, asking in Dutch whether -this was the house of Madame de Vaudrey. The man -looked stolidly at him without replying. Sherebiah -repeated the question, using a different phrase. The -Hollander answered at once that this certainly was Lindendaal, -the chateau of the French lady. Harry sprang from his -wagon, ordered the drivers to draw up by the side of the -road, which was here parallel with a narrow canal, and -entered the gate accompanied by Sherebiah.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll tell you one thing that puzzles me, Sherry," he -remarked, as they passed up an avenue bounded on both -sides by a breast-high balustrade of stone. "You and I -have been in this country the same time, and seen each as -much as the other of the people, and yet you have beat me -altogether in picking up the language, hard as I have -worked at it. I don't understand it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah well, Master Harry," said Sherebiah, "'tis like -that sometimes, so 'tis. You be a scholard, with book -larnen and all that; I be, true, a poor common mortal, -but mebbe my ear be quicker 'n some."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Still, the time is rather short for you to have learnt to -speak the language so well as you do. Your knowledge -has grown as quickly as your beard."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"True now, mebbe so; Samson in the Holy Book -growed amazen clever wi' his locks; but I never thowt -afore as how it med be the same in these days."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Harry laughed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It looks very English, doesn't it?" he said, pointing -to the house. It was square, with a veranda painted blue, -under which were several windows opening to the ground. -In front was an open semicircular space, around which -were parterres of brilliant flowers; these were separated -from the park and orchard by a prolongation of the -balustrades that lined the drive. There were dormer windows -in the roof, and at one angle rose a kind of belfry -surmounted by a weathercock.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Give me the packet, Sherry; you had better remain at -the door while I go in."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, or mebbe I med find my lone way to the kitchen?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, no; remain at the door until I have seen Madame -de Vaudrey. I can't have you coquetting with her maids."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Harry went to the door, which stood open, the -afternoon having been warm. A spare, anxious-looking -man-servant came in answer to his ring.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is Madame de Vaudrey within?" he asked in Dutch.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The man's accent when he replied in the affirmative left -no doubt that he was a Frenchman. Harry explained his -errand in French, whereupon the man said in the same -language that his mistress was for the moment engaged, -but that if Monsieur would wait no doubt she would see -him shortly. He led Harry through the wide hall, up a -handsome oak staircase into a little ante-room, where, -begging him to be seated, he shut the door upon the -visitor.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Harry was immediately aware of voices engaged in -conversation on the other side of the folding-doors that -formed one wall of the room. At first the sounds came to -him as murmurs in different tones, but after a time they -became louder, and though he could not distinguish the -words it was plain that one at least of the speakers was -very angry. At length he heard the fierce clanging of -a bell below; a few moments after, the manservant came -running into the ante-room and threw open the -folding-doors. Harry, looking into what was evidently the -drawing-room, saw a group of four. One was clearly the -lady of the house, short, stout, dressed in a costume little -resembling the Dutch housewife's usual attire. She was -very angry, talking vehemently, and gesticulating with her -plump white hand. By her side stood a younger lady, -half a head taller, slim and graceful, perfectly still and -collected, though her cheeks were flushed. Opposite to -the two ladies, their backs to the four windows which lit -the other end of the room, were two men, one very tall -and lean, with thin lips. The other was but little shorter -and a good deal stouter. Harry's attention had been at -first attracted to the ladies; the burlier of the two men -was the last of the four to be noticed; and it was with -a shock of amazement that he recognized in his figure and -blotched red face no other than Captain Aglionby.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Allez-vous-en, allez-vous-en!" the elder lady was -repeating. "Quittez ma maison, tout de suite; je vous -l'ordonne, je l'exige, je le veux absolument; retirez-vous, -messieurs, d'ici, et au plus vite!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Aglionby laughed. None of the four had yet caught -sight of Harry standing back in the darker ante-room. -The lady turned to the manservant and ordered him to -eject the unwelcome visitors. The servant hesitated to -attempt a task clearly beyond his strength. Aglionby put -his hand on his sword, and then laughed again brutally as -he recognized that he had nothing to fear. All the time -the taller man stood quietly watching the scene, occasionally -moistening his lips; and the girl remained in the -same tense immobility, her eyes never leaving the face of -Aglionby.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Harry felt it was time to intervene.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Perhaps I may be allowed—" he began. At the first -word the captain swung round as if on a pivot and stared. -His puffed crimson face turned a sea-green as he saw -advancing towards him, fresh, lithe, confident, the youth -whom he fondly imagined by this time leading a slave's -life in a Barbados plantation. The other man did not stir; -but the two ladies looked towards the speaker with a sort -of startled surprise. Stepping towards the elder, Harry -continued:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Perhaps I may be allowed to offer my services. If -Madame will be so good as to retire, I will—reason with -these gentlemen."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Madame de Vaudrey clasped her hands and looked -indecisively at the new-comer, as though doubting the -propriety of accepting the intervention of a stranger. -Harry was on the point of explaining who he was, when -the matter was settled in an unexpected way. The girl -moved to her mother's side and took her by the hand. -Then, turning to Harry, she said in clear, cold tones:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If Monsieur will rid the house of these two men he -will do my mother a great service. Come, Mamma!" And -then, without another glance at any of the three, -she led Madame de Vaudrey, still half-resisting, from the -room.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The colour had been gradually returning to Aglionby's -face, and when the ladies had disappeared his purple hue -was deeper than ever. But the surprise of Harry's -presence was so great that for the moment the doughty -captain was nonplussed; his anger was at boiling-point, but -he was clearly at a loss what course to take. His -companion stood expectant, a slight smile still on his -face—a smile rendered peculiarly disagreeable by a twitching -of the mouth that drew one corner perceptibly upwards -towards the left ear.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The interval of silence seemed longer than it really was.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am sure, gentlemen," said Harry with great urbanity, -"you will see the propriety of at once relieving -Madame de Vaudrey of your presence."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then the storm broke. Glaring with rage, unable to -stand still, stuttering in his speech, Aglionby roared:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You insolent puppy, you low-born cully, you—how -dare you speak to me! What are you doing here? Stap -me, I'll run you through the midriff and rid the world of -a bit of vermin!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I shall be delighted to give you an opportunity—outside," -said Harry quietly. "Meanwhile, the door is open, -and by making your exit you will please not Madame de -Vaudrey only, but me and, it appears, yourself."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Adsbud, I'll—I'll——" stuttered Aglionby, half drawing -his sword. Harry had his right hand on the hilt of his -own weapon, the third man was still watching the scene, -when an unlooked-for diversion occurred. Harry was -between the two rooms, the two men opposite him with -their backs to the drawing-room windows, which were -open. It happened that a flight of steps led up from the -garden to a balcony beneath these windows. At this -critical moment a fourth man came suddenly into the room -from the outside. Before any of the three could perceive -what was happening, the new-comer, with a long -acrobatic spring, simultaneously imprisoned in his arms the -necks of Aglionby and his companion, and half-throttling -them dragged them past Harry, through the ante-room, -into the corridor, and down the staircase. Harry followed, -himself somewhat amazed at their helter-skelter -progress—bumping down the stairs, struggling vainly in Sherebiah's -vice-like grip, swaying against the balusters first on -one side then on the other, the wood-work creaking and -groaning under the pressure. Half-way down the men -lost their feet altogether, and were incapable of resisting -the rush with which their captor hauled them across the -vestibule and through the open door, where he pulled up -with a sudden jerk and shot them down the flight of -shallow steps on to the drive in front. The whole -proceeding scarcely occupied more than half a minute, so -sudden had been the onset, so helpless were the two men, -gasping half-strangled in Sherebiah's merciless hug.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Harry ran down the stairs, expecting to find his man -engaged in a battle royal before the house. But when he -reached the door he saw Aglionby and the Frenchman -already halfway down the drive towards the road. They -had not waited, then, to demand satisfaction of him. -Smiling at his recollection of their headlong descent, he -went upstairs again, and was met by Madame de Vaudrey, -who had come from another room at the sound of scuffling. -She was very pale.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They are gone, Madame," said Harry at once, to -reassure her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, Monsieur, I thank you, I thank you with good -heart! Your help at the precise moment was so precious. -I cannot thank you too much."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It was my servant, Madame—a very useful fellow. -He did it all himself. I am glad we happened to be at -hand. This unforeseen incident has prevented me, Madame, -from explaining my presence here. I have called to leave -a packet entrusted to me by Mynheer Grootz, a friend of -yours, I think."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh! it is my tulip bulb. Mynheer Grootz promised to -send it me. Yes, he is a friend of mine indeed. But are -those men really gone? Will they not overpower your -brave servant? They are bad men—oh, they are bad! I -fear them."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I saw them going down the drive. And my man knows -how to take care of himself," said Harry. "They will not -trouble you again at present. And now, Madame, as I -have Mynheer Grootz's packet in the ante-room, if you -will allow me to place it in your hands I will take my -leave and proceed on my way."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mon Dieu, non!" cried the lady. "You must allow -me to give you some refreshment, and your brave man too—if -he is really safe! Jean," she called to the servant, -"bring wine and cakes and fruit to the drawing-room. -But first see if this gentleman's servant is safe."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He is, Madame," replied the man at once. "The men -from the stables and the garden were coming to the door: -Mademoiselle had fetched them: and they were too many -for Monsieur de Polignac and the other."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How thankful I am! Bring the brave man up with -you. Now, Monsieur—I do not know your name?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is Harry Rochester, Madame; I am English."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Indeed! Come into the drawing-room and rest. Jean -will bring something to eat and drink immediately."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She led the way into the room, gave Harry a comfortable -chair, and sat opposite to him, folding her plump -hands on her lap, and heaving a sigh of satisfaction and -relief. The servant soon reappeared with a tray, and when -Madame de Vaudrey had seen Harry supplied with drink -and food that pleased him, she dismissed her man, read -the letter Mynheer Grootz had enclosed with his gift, and -began to talk.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You are English? That is interesting. My dear -husband's mother was English, so that my daughter has a -little—a very little, of course—English blood in her. I -cannot tell you how thankful I am that you came when -you did. That is also another debt I owe to Mynheer -Grootz. He writes very amiable things of you. I was at -my wits' end, Monsieur Rochestair; I will tell you about -it.—Do you like that wine?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thank you, it is excellent."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am so glad! You speak French very well for an -Englishman. My daughter wishes to learn English. She -takes after her father, not after me. I wonder where she -is?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Harry followed her glance to the door; he too had -wondered what had become of the tall girl who had shown -so much decisiveness of character at an awkward moment. -But she did not appear.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well," continued the amiable hostess, "let me tell you -all about it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mynheer Grootz's recommendation was clearly a passport -to her favour. She leant back in her high chair, and -in her clear, well-modulated voice told Harry what he was, -it must be confessed, curious to hear. It was three years -since her husband, the Comte de Vaudrey, died. He was -a student, not a man of affairs; and his fortune suffered -through his lack of business-like qualities. The estate, a -small one, purchased by his father when as a Huguenot he -fled from France at the revocation of the Edict of Nantes, -was now much encumbered. Monsieur de Vaudrey had -bought the best perspective glasses and other expensive -scientific instruments, had spent large sums on rare books -and specimens, and had so embarrassed himself that he -had to apply to the Amsterdam bankers, who advanced -him money on a mortgage of the estate. Not long -afterwards he died.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is only a year ago," continued Madame de Vaudrey, -"that we learnt that we were to have a neighbour. The -estate adjoining our own had been in the market for many -years, and we heard that it had at last been purchased by -a Monsieur de Polignac, a Frenchman, and a Huguenot -like ourselves. We were rejoiced at the news; a neighbour -of our own race and faith would be so charming, we -thought. And so indeed he was, at first. I thought his -visits to his estate too few; he was so often at the Hague; -when he came to see us he was so debonair, so gracious, -that I liked him well. With my daughter, quite the -contrary. It was prejudice, I told her; but from the first she -looked on him coldly. Then all at once he became a more -frequent visitor, and I saw—yes, a mother's eyes are -keen—that he had pretensions to my daughter's hand. I did -not oppose him; he was rich, noble, a Huguenot; but -Adèle—certes, Monsieur Rochestair, no maiden could ever -have given less encouragement. The first time he was -refused he smiled—he does not look well when he smiles, -think you?—and said that he would still hope. But though -I thought the match a good one, I would not persuade my -daughter: she is all I have, Monsieur, and so young. He -went away; then a few days ago I am astonished to see -him reappear in company with Captain Aglionby, who is -visiting him. Now first I begin really to dislike Monsieur -de Polignac."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Did you know Captain Aglionby before, then?" asked -Harry in surprise.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes; that is why. I know him, and I think no friend -of his can be a good man. Captain Aglionby stayed for a -month in this house some five years ago. No, he was not -a welcome guest; he was brought here to recover from a -wound he had received in a skirmish near by; ah, -Monsieur, he is an odious man! I hate his loud voice, his -turbulence, his rodomontade; imagine, three times, -Monsieur, three times he intoxicated himself in my house, and -excused himself with the plea that he had done so many -times with the Czar of Muscovy. He used to force himself -into my husband's study, meddle with his things, spoil -his scientific experiments—my husband was discovering a -plan to get gold from sea-water, and we should have been -so rich! But the odious captain ruined all. I am sure he -did, for the experiments came to nothing."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why did you put up with it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Alas! what could we do? My husband was a man of -tranquil soul who had lived so long with his books that -he could not deal with men. As for me—you see me, a -poor helpless woman! and Adèle was then only eleven! -judge then my surprise and alarm when I see Captain -Aglionby in company with Monsieur de Polignac. Still -more to-day, when Monsieur de Polignac comes once -more to urge his suit. Adèle refuses him with scorn. -And then—oh, the villain!—he tells me he has bought -from the Jews of Amsterdam the mortgage on this estate, -and if Adèle will not be his wife, then he turns us -out—think of it, Monsieur; turns two defenceless women out. -This it is that changes me, a weak woman, into a fury, as -you see."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Harry forbore to smile at Madame de Vaudrey's placid -impersonation of a fury.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They are a couple of villains indeed," he said. "It -was truly fortunate that I came with Sherebiah at the -right moment."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, indeed; a thousand thanks! And only think of it: -just before you came Captain Aglionby, odious man, had -dared to hint that when we were thrust out of our home he -would do me the honour to marry me. Truly an honour! -No, I never forget my dear husband; no, never! Ah, this -is the dear brave man, your servant?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The door had opened, and Sherebiah came in awkwardly, -turning his hat between his hands. Madame de Vaudrey -rose and, smiling upon him, said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I give you a thousand thanks. You are a hero; how -strong! how bold!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sherebiah bobbed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Madame de Vaudrey thanks you," said Harry.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Tis handsome of the lady, sir, and I'm obleeged, and -axes you to put my sarvices into French lingo, sir."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He bobbed again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What about Captain Aglionby?" asked Harry.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, sir, I reckon he be madder than a March hare. -Nigh to bust hisself, and hot as pepper. Would ha' -slashed me, man o' peace as I be, if 'tweren't for half -a dozen Dutch coofs wi' pitchforks and other articles o' -warfare drawn up below, wi' the young lady at their head. -Ay, she be a warrior bold, sure enough: I never seed such -a piece of female manliness all my life long. 'Twas with a -flashen eye and a pink rose on each pretty cheek her stood -and ordered 'em out. Ay, an uncommon upstanden piece -o' womankind her be, to be sure."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Harry was glad that Madame de Vaudrey's ignorance -of English could not fathom this plain-spoken tribute to -her daughter's charms.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They are really gone, then?" he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, yes, both on 'em; the long beetle chap as well. -He be a next-door neighbour, it seems, and a mighty -unpleasant neighbour he must be.—Thank 'ee kindly, mum," -he added, as Madame de Vaudrey offered him a glass of -wine, "but if 'ee don't mind, I'd rather wet my whistle -with a mug of beer in the kitchen."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The lady smiled when this was interpreted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You English are like the Hollanders in that," she said. -"Certainly. Jean, take the brave man to the kitchen and -treat him well."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sherebiah pulled his forelock and departed with alacrity.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We must shortly be going on our way, Madame," said -Harry. "I have a convoy of provisions for the garrison at -Breda, and my wagoners are even now growing impatient, -I doubt not."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But, Monsieur, I cannot hear of it. You cannot reach -Breda to-night; and suppose those odious men return? -You must be tired. Do me the favour to stay here for -the night; and we can find a bed for your man also."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But the wagons?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Let them go on to the village; it is but half a league -away. They can remain at the inn there. Monsieur, I -insist; and besides, I have to write a letter of thanks to -my friend Mynheer Grootz."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Harry had no reason for refusing an invitation so cordial. -Madame de Vaudrey beamed when he accepted, and, begging -to be excused, went off to make arrangements with -her servants. Left to himself, Harry looked round the -room. It was richly furnished; the tables, cabinets, and -chairs were of French make, in highly polished rose-wood; -chairs and sofas were covered with crimson velvet, and -two cabinets were filled with beautiful porcelain and Dutch -china. The pictures upon the walls were all French, -except one—a portrait, evidently by a Dutch hand and -of a comparatively recent date. It represented a man's -head, with dark complexion and wistful melancholy eyes. -Harry was attracted to it by a slight resemblance to his -father; not in the features, which were quite unlike, but -in the curious sadness of the expression. His thoughts -were carried back to his old home at Winton St. Mary, -and the quiet life with his father there; a mist came before -his eyes, and he fell into a reverie, standing thus before the -picture.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So rapt was he in recollection that he did not hear the -door open behind him, nor turn to see the entrance of -Adèle de Vaudrey. For a moment the girl stood in the -doorway, holding the handle. An onlooker would have -seen a strange shifting of expression upon her face as she -paused in hesitation whether to advance or retire, to speak -or to remain silent. It was but for a moment; her lips -softened, her long lashes drooped down upon her eyes; -and closing the door as noiselessly as she had opened it -she slipped away.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="bluff"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER X</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">Bluff</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="small">A Stroll—A Fair Cook—Love and Duty—An Arrival—General -van Santen—Raiders—A Dozen all Told—Rallying the -Peasants—Desperate Counsels—The Masqueraders—Strategy—A -Ruse de Guerre—Stage Effects—Final Touches—In Sight—At -the Door—Ransom—A Turn of the Screw—Phantom -Forces—Dilemma—Discretion—Courtesies</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"Ah, my dear Monsieur Rochestair, pardon me for leaving -you so long. I have been to prepare your room."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thank you indeed, Madame!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You were looking at the portrait? It is my dear -husband. Is it not a fine head? Can you imagine, after -seeing it, that I could put that odious captain in his place? -Not that I should think every man bad unless he resembled -my husband. No, that would be unjust. But come and -see my garden, Monsieur Rochestair. It is beautiful -outside now that the sun is going down."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I shall be delighted. I have noticed how the scent of -the flowers comes to us here through the windows."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, I love flowers. Mynheer Grootz knows that."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Madame conducted Harry through the grounds. They -were laid out with more freedom than was usual in Holland, -and reminded him at many a turn of well-tended parks at -home. The house was surrounded by its garden; beyond -this was an expanse of lawn and thin park bounded by a -wall. Beyond this again, Madame de Vaudrey explained, -lay the orchard belonging to the far larger estate now -owned by Monsieur de Polignac. At a considerable -distance from the house on the eastern side Harry remarked -a large open stretch of ground, roughly circular in shape, -covered with grass that grew wild and was left uncropt, -Across the middle of it ran a ditch, now apparently dry, -passing under the garden wall and the road, and evidently -connected with the canal. Near to the spot where the -ditch disappeared beneath the wall stood a large dilapidated -building, like the storehouse usually attached to a -Dutch mill.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You wonder at our neglect of this part of the grounds," -said the lady with a smile. "But that is our skating pond. -In winter we open the sluices at the canal end of the ditch; -it fills, the water overflows, and thus we flood the field. -Then comes the frost, and we have, I think, the finest -skating pond in Holland, and quite safe. We used to -hold tournaments, people came from miles around; but -alas! since this terrible war has recommenced we have -almost forgotten those pleasant sports of winter. I do -hope it will soon come to an end. I never could -understand what men are fighting about. My dear husband -used to speak of the balance of power; the French king -wishes to rule everybody, he told me; certainly King Louis -is a bad man; he has behaved disgracefully to us poor -Huguenots; and I dare say you English are quite right in -helping the Dutch to punish him. But war is so terrible. -My dear husband was trying to invent something that -would enable one army to make another army senseless -without killing them; I know nothing about it, but the -idea was excellent; and if the truth were known I dare -say it was that odious Captain Aglionby who spoilt that too."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Thus the good lady kept chattering to Harry as she -conducted him over her little estate. The evening was -drawing rapidly in; a light mist was rising, and Madame -shivered a little as she turned back towards the house. A -moment afterwards her daughter met her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mother," she said, "you should not be out in the -damp air. You know it is bad for you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, my dear," replied Madame de Vaudrey, submitting -to be enwrapped in a large woollen shawl which her -daughter's fair hands wound about her head and shoulders. -"I have been showing Monsieur Rochestair our little -property—alas! soon to be ours no more. I told Monsieur -why, Adèle."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The girl's cheeks flushed, but she said nothing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I did not tell you, Madame," said Harry, "that I -happen to know something of Captain Aglionby."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Indeed! nothing but what is perfectly odious, I am sure."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have reason to believe that he was concerned in an -attempt to ship me to our plantations in Barbados. My -man tells me——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Monsieur," interrupted the girl, "my mother is subject -to chills. You are staying with us to-night; will you -hasten to the house with my mother and tell us the story -at supper?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"With pleasure, Mademoiselle."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Harry felt a little in awe of this very decisive young -lady, with her scornful lip and clear uncompromising tones. -She hurried in advance to the house, and was waiting in -the panelled dining-room when the others appeared. The -table looked very inviting with its spotless napery, shining -plate, and vases of flowers, and Harry found the meal -much to his taste after the plain fare of Dutch hostelries. -Besides such staple viands as Westphalian ham and -bag-puddings—one variety of these, filled with raisins and -spices, was excellent—there were dainty French -dishes—confections of fruit and cream which surprised even -Madame la Comtesse.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, you rogue!" she exclaimed; "I see now where -you hid yourself this afternoon."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mademoiselle likes cooking?" Harry ventured to say.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"By no means, Monsieur, I dislike it exceedingly."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I knew we had nothing ready, Mamma," added the -girl, "and you would not have liked Monsieur to think -little of your hospitality."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>During the meal Harry gave the ladies an account of -himself, speaking of his early hopes and ambitions, his -disappointments, the vain waiting for a message from -Marlborough, the strange animus of the squire, the -kidnapping, the interposition of Mynheer Grootz. His -hearers were deeply interested; even Mademoiselle, though -she said little, and seemed to curl her pretty lip when her -mother's curiosity or indignation showed itself in little -vivacious exclamations,—Mademoiselle kept her eyes fixed -on Harry as he spoke, though whenever he happened to -glance towards her she was looking away and appeared -unconcerned.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, there now!" cried the comtesse, when Harry mentioned, -without a trace of bitterness, Marlborough's failure -to keep his promise; "that is my lord duke's character. -He is mean, he is selfish, he loves no one but himself."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And the duchess," put in Harry.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But that is his duty. It is his duty to love his wife. -I did not say he was a monster."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Did you love papa from duty?" asked Adèle simply.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I never said that, Adèle. Of course it is a woman's -duty to love her husband, but your dear father was so -good, so kind, so fond of me that no one could help loving -him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mynheer Grootz is good and kind, but you don't love him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Madame de Vaudrey flushed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You say such odd things, Adèle. I can't think how it -is. I never said such things when I was a girl. Mynheer -Grootz is good, and kind; you are right; and if it were -my duty——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, Mamma," cried Adèle, "do forget the word duty! -I am sure none of us either loves or hates from -duty.—Would Monsieur like some strawberries and cream?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Harry went to bed that night very well pleased with -himself, his hostess, and her daughter. He liked the little, -simple, talkative countess; he was piqued by Adèle's -reserve, coolness, indifference—he hardly knew what to -call it; the something which seemed to indicate that Harry -Rochester was a creature far too insignificant for the notice -of Mademoiselle Adèle de Vaudrey. "And she is clever, -too," he thought. "Faith, how she sent Aglionby to the -right-about! Polignac is a scoundrel; what will they do -if he turns them out? And how did he come across -Aglionby? She will not marry him, at any rate; that's -one comfort."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It is very unromantic, but the truth must be told. -Thoughts of Adèle did not keep Harry one instant from -sleep. His bed was a dark mysterious-looking box, with -brown damask curtains drawn closely round it. Withdrawing -the curtains, he saw a magnificent quilt of crimson -satin, snowy sheets, a lace-trimmed pillow. He scrambled -up, barking his legs against the high boards composing -the sides, and the moment he laid his head on the pillow -forgot Aglionby, Marlborough, Adèle, and duty.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When Madame de Vaudrey bade good-night to her -daughter she said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Eh bien, fillette; je l'aime, le bel Anglais. Il est -brave, intelligent, modeste, parfaitement aimable, n'est-ce -pas?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, petite maman, que voulez-vous? Est-ce que je -</span><em class="italics">dois</em><span> l'aimer, moi aussi?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And kissing her mother on both cheeks Adèle ran off -laughing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Harry was awakened in the morning by the loud singing -of the birds. He had left his window wide open, and -the scent of flowers and perfume from the fir wood at the -extremity of the estate gave him fragrant greeting. He -sprang out of bed, and stood at the window inhaling the -luscious odours, listening to the song of the birds and -the incessant hoarse croak of the frogs, gazing at the -grass glistening with dew. "I should like a week's -holiday here," he thought. "Ay me! it is breakfast, and -then for Breda!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But he had only just left his room when he heard below -a violent clanging of the bell, followed by a strange voice -speaking in the hall, and a hasty running to and fro. -Hurrying downstairs, he met Adèle de Vaudrey at the -foot of the staircase.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come with me, Monsieur," she said the moment she -saw him. "Mamma is not down yet."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She preceded him through the hall door, at which he -now saw a light calash drawn up, and behind it ten -horses, nine of them sat by Dutch dragoons, the tenth -being the steed of the soldier who stood at the door, and -whose voice it was that Harry had heard. From the -horses, clouds of vapour rose into the fresh morning air; -the pace had evidently been forced. In the calash were -two men: the elder, in the uniform of a Dutch officer of -high rank, reclined on the cushions, half-supported by a -young aide-de-camp seated at his side. He was deathly -pale; his eyes were closed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As Mademoiselle de Vaudrey, followed by Harry, came -to the door of the carriage, the aide-de-camp without -changing his position addressed her in Dutch.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is as you see, mejjuffrouw. It is General van -Santen; he is desperately wounded. We hoped to reach -Breda, but the general swooned a few minutes ago and -I dare not drive farther."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Bring him in at once," said Adèle. "The soldiers can -lift him. Never mind about explanations now. One of -the soldiers must ride on to the village for the meester; -it is only half a league. Monsieur," she added, addressing -Harry in her quick, decisive tones, "assist; I will warn -Mamma."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She ran back into the house. The inanimate general -was carefully carried into the hall. He was a fine -soldierly man, with a strong rugged face of English -rather than Dutch cast. Harry remembered that Mynheer -Grootz had mentioned General van Santen as a friend of -his, and one of the ablest and most trusted of the -lieutenants of William of Orange. Madame de Vaudrey -had by this time come from above, and stood in pale -expectation. The general was laid upon a sofa in the -reception-room, and Adèle had already provided a basin -of water and a bottle of smelling-salts with which she -endeavoured to revive the wounded officer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What is it?" cried Madame de Vaudrey, who had left -these ministrations to the hands of her capable daughter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The aide-de-camp explained that General van Santen -had left the Duke of Marlborough's camp late at night -on his way to the Hague. In the faint dawn he had -suddenly come upon a French raiding-party which had -apparently made a dash from Lierre. It was known that -Tserclaes had advanced from the main French army in -order to protect Antwerp. The general had dashed -through with his men, but not rapidly enough to escape -a bullet which had lodged in his groin. With great -difficulty he had kept the saddle as far as the next village; -but there, exhausted by the effort and by loss of blood, he -had been placed in a hastily prepared carriage and driven -on in the hope of arriving at Breda in time to warn the -garrison. His wound had proved even more serious than -was supposed; he had lost consciousness, and his aide-de-camp -had deemed it necessary to halt at the first house -and ask for assistance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In what direction are the raiders coming?" asked Harry.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In this direction, Mynheer," replied the aide-de-camp.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And how far away were they when this happened?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"About ten miles."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So they may be here within an hour?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If they ride on at once, but they will probably stop -to plunder."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Can they be checked?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Alas, Mynheer! there is no force near at hand."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Surely they will raise the country?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But they are mounted, and the country people cannot -cope with them. Even if the news is carried to Helmund -there are none but burghers there, and they are useless -against cavalry, except behind their own walls."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And how many do the raiders number?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"More than a hundred, as I judge, Mynheer."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Madame de Vaudrey stood in agitated silence while this -rapid colloquy was in progress. Adèle was still bathing -the wounded man's temples; no one present had sufficient -knowledge to attempt more than the roughest of means -to bind the wound. In a few minutes the general opened -his eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where am I?" he asked, feebly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In the house of Madame de Vaudrey," said that lady.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How far from where I was shot?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Only a few miles," replied the aide-de-camp.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then someone must ride to Breda for help, and -take my despatches. They must be at the Hague to-night."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I will write a note to the commandant," said the -aide-de-camp, "and send one of the troopers."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, no, lieutenant, you must ride yourself. I can't -trust the despatches to a trooper."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But I do not care to leave you, general."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is my wish. The enemy can only capture me, but -they may do unheard-of mischief around. Delay no -longer: ride fast."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The exertion of talking was too much for him, and he -swooned again. Loth as he was to go, the aide-de-camp -could not ignore the general's express instructions. Before -leaving he took Harry aside and asked him to consider -himself in command of the troopers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You're not strong enough to beat off the enemy," he -said, "but it will be well for the men to have someone to -look to in emergency. Don't let the general fall into the -enemy's hands if you can help it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Harry hesitated. His first duty was undoubtedly to -secure the safety of the convoy, for the sake both of the -Breda garrison and Mynheer Grootz. On the other hand, -he scouted the idea of deserting the ladies in their -predicament. Further, the raiding-party were upon the road -behind him; they had clearly swept round Eyndhoven, -avoiding Helmund, and in all probability were on the -heels of the general. Even if he got his convoy safely -away from the village it could only move at a walking -pace. In an hour or two it must be overtaken, and he -would thus do no good either for himself or the ladies by -instant flight. He therefore made up his mind to remain -at Lindendaal, and assured the aide-de-camp that he -would do his best. But when the lieutenant had ridden -off, and Harry reflected on the position of the ladies, he -thought it worth while to suggest that they should start -at once for Breda in order to be out of harm's way. Adèle -answered at once for her mother.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Impossible, Monsieur! We cannot leave the general; -we will not leave the house. Consult your own duty."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her tone was not to be gainsaid. Harry went into the -hall, wondering what he could do for the best. He met -Sherebiah at the door.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Eh, sir, 'tis a pretty pickle o' fish."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What are we to do, Sherry?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"As a man o' peace, I say cut and run."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Can't we defend the house?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Wi' ten Dutch dragoons and a gardener and a maid -or two? And two hundred French, so 'tis said!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But men will come in from the villages round."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, on foot, and with pitchforks and flails. Not much -good against swords and carbines."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At that moment a man galloped up from a village some -eight miles down the road, with news that the French were -already sacking and burning. They had first demanded -a ransom, and the sum required not being forthcoming -within the short time allowed, they had begun their -ruthless work. A few moments afterwards one of Harry's -teamsters rode up on a cart-horse. He had heard the -news from the aide-de-camp as he passed through the -village where the convoy had put up for the night, and -come back to ask for orders. Harry caught at the -chance of delay. The French, it appeared, first demanded -a ransom; could they be put off and time be gained for -relief to arrive? The question suggested a plan that -might be tried in default of a better.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ride back, Piet," said Harry, "and bring up the -wagons as fast as you can, and as many of the villagers -as you can muster—with arms, if they have them."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His idea was to barricade the road; every minute's delay -was a minute gained, and as the news spread he believed -that the Hollanders had courage and spirit enough to -strike a blow in defence of their homes. In point of fact, -Piet had hardly departed to fulfil his errand when -Dutchmen came up in ones and twos and threes, some on great -lumbering farm-horses, others on foot, all hastening -towards Breda in the hope of escaping the devouring French -behind them. A few had firelocks, some had bills, others -staggered along under the burden of household valuables -they hoped to save from ruin. Harry set Sherebiah to -intercept them all as they came up and to bring them -within the grounds, and as their number swelled he -reverted to his original idea of defending the house.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was a counsel of desperation. The house had several -entrances, each one of which must be manned; it was too -large to be held by so small a garrison. The outhouses -would afford cover to an attacking force. Including the -ten dragoons, there were only at present fourteen -well-armed men among the ever-growing crowd; he could not -improvise arms, and little effective work was to be -expected from an untrained rabble, however courageous, -pitted against regular troops. Further, to defend the -house from within would inevitably lead to its being fired -and blown up, and Madame de Vaudrey would profit not -a jot. If the house was to be saved it must be by preventing -the enemy from reaching it. What chance was there -of effectually barring the road against the raiders? He -went out to investigate.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As he reached the park gate he was met by two men -who had just come on foot from the village. One was a -yeoman, the other a soldier belonging to some infantry -regiment—a man probably on furlough. Harry was struck -by the similarity of their costumes. Their hats were almost -alike; their doublets and knee-breeches of similar dark -materials; but for the red collar and the bands around -the sleeves, there was very little at a distance to -distinguish the soldier from the civilian. A sudden notion -flashed through Harry's mind. It was a chance in a -thousand; the risks were great; the odds were all against -success; but on the other side there was the imminent -danger of destruction to the house, ruin to the owners, -the capture of the Dutch general, and the subsequent -burning of the village.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We'll try it," he said to himself. "Sherry, send every -man up to the house, and let me know the instant our -wagons appear."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, I will, sir.—'Tis a pretty ticklish time o' day for a -man o' peace," he muttered under his breath.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Harry ran back to the house. The doctor from the -village overtook him on horseback, and they entered -together. Mademoiselle de Vaudrey showed some surprise -when she saw Harry, but she made no comment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mademoiselle," said Harry, "the general is in good -hands now. May I ask your assistance?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She gave him a keen glance, rose at once from her knees, -and followed him from the room.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mademoiselle," continued Harry eagerly, "have you -any red ribbon, silk, stuff, anything, in the house?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Perhaps. Why do you ask?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Will you find all that you can, and with your maids -sew red bands round the collars and cuffs of the men?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"To make them look like soldiers—is that what you -mean?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," replied Harry, delighted that she seized his -meaning so quickly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I will do so at once. Send the men to the hall."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Harry next called up old Jean, and bade him fetch the -gardener. When the man appeared, Harry asked him to -gather as many sticks as he could, by preference wood -with the bark on, about five feet in length, and stack them -at the back door. A few minutes afterwards a message -reached him from Sherebiah that the wagons had arrived. -He ran upstairs and, regardless of ceremony, called out: -"Mademoiselle de Vaudrey!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Adèle came out of a room, holding a strip of red ribbon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mademoiselle," said Harry, "I must go to the gate. -Will you make every unarmed man look as much like a -soldier as possible, and see that each is provided with one -of the sticks that the gardener is now collecting?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes. Is there anything else?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is it possible to run up a flag on the belfry-tower?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If you say it is to be done, it shall be done."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I do not want the flag hoisted at present; but if you -will prepare to do so——'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Very well," interrupted the girl.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Harry thanked her with a look, and ran downstairs -three steps at a time. He called to one of the dragoons -to accompany him, and hastened again to the gate, -meeting on the way several men whom, in obedience to his -instructions, Sherebiah had sent up from the road.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sherry," he said, "ask this fellow if a cavalry troop -on the march is preceded by an advance guard. He won't -understand my Dutch."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I can tell 'ee that," said Sherebiah instantly. "They -do so. A patrol goos ahead, mebbe a quarter of a mile."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh! Now, mark my plan. Mademoiselle de Vaudrey -is making some of the Dutchmen look like soldiers; we've -no muskets for them, but at a distance I hope sticks may -serve as well. I am going to post these make-believe -soldiers around the wall of the estate among the trees; -it will look as if the orchard and woods are manned. -They will remain concealed until a flag appears on the -tower; then their sudden appearance will, I trust, make -an impression."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, sir, 'tis famous. But if the patrol gets much -past the house, 'twill be labour lost, for they will be near -enough to see 'tis all my eye."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, that must be avoided. What can be done?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I tell 'ee, sir. Leave three o' the wagons on the road, -half a mile or so towards the village, where the road bends; -I reckon Piet and Hans and me can keep any French patrol -a-diddle-daddlen until the flag runs up. Then—do 'ee see, -sir?—dragoons slip out of copse and trounce the Frenchmen, -Piet and me and Hans draws the wagons across the -road: and there be a barricade."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A capital notion! I will leave that to you, then.—Ah! here -is a man from the other direction. He may have news -of the enemy."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A countryman, with his wife and family, had just driven -up in a cart. From him Harry learnt that the French were -sacking isolated farms on the road, and might be expected -within the hour. Harry at once went back to the house, -ran up the stairs, and again called for mademoiselle.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"May I go up to the roof and see if I can descry the -enemy?" he asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I will take you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She led the way to the turret stair, and in a few moments -Harry stood upon the roof, whence on fine days a clear -prospect for many miles could have been obtained. The -morning was somewhat overcast, and the haze limited his -view. But in one quarter he seemed to see a blackness -that could only arise from the smoke of burning houses. -Between him and the cloud appeared the gables of a house -larger than Madame de Vaudrey's chateau.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That belongs to Monsieur de Polignac," said Adèle in -reply to his question.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The French will come to that first; that will gain a -little time for us."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At that moment his eye caught the large barn-like building -at the extremity of the Vaudrey estate, just beyond the -ditch running into the canal. In a flash a new idea set -his pulse leaping. Hitherto his only aim had been to -delay or daunt the enemy until help could arrive from -Breda or some nearer point. But the recollection of what -he had seen when going round the estate on the previous -evening suggested a daring scheme which made him tingle -with excitement. Adèle looked at him in silent curiosity -as he stood for a few moments pondering the situation. -Then he turned suddenly to her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mademoiselle, who opens the sluices of the ditch when -you make your skating-pond?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Jacques the gardener."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thank you! I will go to him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He turned at once to descend. As he came to the head -of the staircase he noticed a mass of coloured stuff lying -at the foot of the belfry.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, the flag!" he said. "Thank you, Mademoiselle!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A glance upward assured him that the running-line was -in order; then without another word he went down. Finding -the gardener, he hurried with him to the park entrance. -His wagons were drawn up outside. He ordered three of -his teamsters to drive their carts into the thicket beyond -the outbuilding down the road.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The enemy will have a rearguard," he said. "As soon -as that has well passed, bring your wagons into the road -and block it between the wall and the canal. I will send -a dozen men and two of the dragoons to remain in hiding -with you. Now, Jacques, go to the ditch and open the -sluices. How long will it take to flood the field to a depth -of seven or eight inches?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not more than half an hour, Monsieur."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Very well. Stay; have you a boat anywhere on the estate?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A punt, Monsieur. I go to market in it on the canal."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where is it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In the old barn yonder, Monsieur."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Bring it out and float it in the ditch half-way across -the field. Moor it so that it doesn't drift."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The man hurried away.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Tis all ready, sir," said Sherebiah, coming up. "The -road is blocked towards the bend, and the men be hidden -in the wood. Med I ask, sir, if shouten would be any use?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Harry smiled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We found it useful once, eh, Sherry? Certainly; when -you see the flag go up, the more noise you make the better, -especially if you can make a din with garden tools, or -anything of steel."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Trust me, sir; I ha'n't served wi' a travellen show for -nothen. I'll show 'em the way, ay sure."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mind, not a movement till you see the flag. Now, to -your places."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He returned once more to the house. Adèle met him at -the door.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have done all you said. Is there anything more that -I can do?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thank you, Mademoiselle! nothing, I think. I wish to -see Madame de Vaudrey now."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They went together into the reception-room. The -general had recovered consciousness, and lay prone on -the couch. The doctor was at the window talking to -Madame de Vaudrey, who was clearly in a state of -intense agitation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, Monsieur Rochestair," she said as Harry entered, -"have they sent help to us yet?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, Madame, I fear there has scarcely been time."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What shall we do? what shall we do? I fear we shall -all be ruined."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Pray calm yourself, Madame," said Harry quietly. -"Doctor, is it possible to remove the general to another -room?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I do not advise it. He is comfortable; I hope he will -sleep."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Meester, let us take him to the dining-room," said -Adèle in Dutch.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It would be a pity, and——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you wish it, Monsieur?" she interrupted, turning -to Harry.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, Mademoiselle."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then he shall be removed. Meester, be so good as to -have the general removed at once. The men can lift sofa -and all."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Adèle herself called four men in from the front of the -house, and the general was quickly carried across the hall -into the dining-room. Harry was left with the two ladies.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Madame," he said, "will you remain here with -Mademoiselle? Be seated; take up your needle-work; try to -look as though there were nothing to fear."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How can I? how can I? when every moment I fear to -see my house in flames."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mamma," said Adèle, "it is necessary. Monsieur is -planning to save us; we must help him. Come, I will -fetch your spinning-wheel. Monsieur, we will do our -best, I give my promise."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thank you, Mademoiselle! When the French arrive, -an officer will enter; I will bring him in here; show no -concern; leave the rest to me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He went out, sent into the woods all the men who were -still about the house save two of the dragoons, whom he -placed in a cloak-room off the hall. Then he ran up again -to the roof.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Looking eagerly down the road, he caught sight of four -horsemen approaching at a trot. They were about a mile -away. Beyond them the road was concealed from view -by a clump of trees. He saw at a glance that Jacques -had fulfilled his instructions to the letter. Where half an -hour before had been a bare field there was now what -appeared to be a broad lake, with a solitary punt floating -at about the middle of its surface. Scanning the -boundaries of the estate he failed to descry a single human -figure. He drew a long breath; all his preparations were -complete; what would be the outcome?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The four riders were drawing nearer, and behind them -he now saw the helmets and lances of the main body. -They were as yet too far away for him to estimate their -number. Taking care to keep out of sight himself, he -watched the patrol of four, and saw two of them dismount -at the old barn and enter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They have left Monsieur de Polignac for the present," -he said to himself. "I wonder why."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After a few minutes the two horsemen emerged from -the building, remounted, and rode on with their -companions. Then Harry slipped down the stairs, instructed -old Jean, who was trembling in the hall, to conduct to the -reception-room any soldier who came to the door, and -then walked quietly in and rejoined the ladies.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They are coming?" said Adèle.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes. They will be here in a minute."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Madame de Vaudrey gave a gasp and let her hands fall -to her sides. Adèle jumped up, slipped a skein of wool -over her mother's hands, sat on a stool opposite her, and -began to wind the wool into a ball. A few seconds later -the clatter of hoofs and the clank of sabres came from -without. Then a heavy tread was heard in the hall, and -a loud voice called for the master of the house. There -was a moment's pause; Jean opened the door, stood on -one side, and in a quavering voice announced:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Madame, Monsieur demande——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His voice broke, he could say no more. The ladies -looked up, Madame de Vaudrey with pale cheeks and -twitching lips, Adèle with unmoved countenance and -stony stare. After one glance she placidly resumed her -winding; Harry, with his hands in his pockets, strolled -over from the window.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, my man, what do you want?" he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The sergeant involuntarily saluted. He looked by no -means comfortable. His eyes went from one to another -of the silent group.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Monsieur—Mesdames——" he began; then, recovering -his self-possession and putting on a swaggering air, -he continued: "To resist is vain. The commandant will -decide. I have warned you, Mesdames—Monsieur."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is very good of you," said Harry blandly. "Your -boots are marking the carpet; perhaps you will wait outside."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The man's cheeks purpled; without another word he -abruptly turned and went out. At the front door he -stationed two of his companions, and rode back to meet -the advancing troop, the sounds of whose approach were -now echoed from the surrounding woods. From the window -Harry saw the sergeant make his report to the officer -at their head. The commandant smiled and rode on. -Two minutes later his spurs rang on the stone steps, and -Jean showed him into the room.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Madame, voilà encore un visiteur."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In obedience to a hint from Adèle, Madame de Vaudrey -rose and made a curtsy. Harry smiled as he saw Adèle's -low mocking obeisance. The officer doffed his cocked hat, -laid it with both hands upon his heart, and bowed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Madame—Mademoiselle—Monsieur," he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was a tall, stout, florid man of some forty years, -with large nose and bloated cheeks. His costume was -very rich, plentifully bedecked with gold lace and decorations, -spick and span in all its appointments. "More like -a courtier than a soldier," was Harry's first impression. -His few words of salutation had been uttered in a strong -German accent.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Madame, Monsieur," he said, "I have the honour to -be a colonel of dragoons in the service of his highness the -Elector of Cologne, who, as you are doubtless aware, is in -alliance with His Majesty of France. I regret exceedingly -to have to discommode you; it is a painful duty; but -what would you?—war is war. My duty, Madame, -Monsieur, is to levy contributions on the enemy's country. -Alas! that I am obliged to treat you, Madame, Monsieur, -Mademoiselle, as enemies, but duty is duty. Not for all -the world would I render it more disagreeable than -necessary to such charming ladies, and to your excellent son, -Madame; but I must request you to hand over to me five -thousand florins—that, I am sure, you will regard as a -most modest estimate of the value of your delightful -house. I regret that I can allow only five minutes for -the completion of this little transaction; in five minutes, -Madame, Monsieur, with five thousand florins I pass on -with my men. It pains me to say it, but if the money, -or its equivalent—in plate or jewels, Madame, what you -please—is not forthcoming within five minutes, I must -with the very greatest regret take what I can find and -burn the place. The notice is short, it is true; but -Madame will understand; we soldiers have no time to -spare, and my orders are positive; every house that is not -ransomed is to be burned. Ah!" he ejaculated as he -caught sight through the window of smoke in the -distance, "I fear my men have already set fire to your barn. -It is an excess of zeal, but, as the proverb says, the -appetite grows with eating; we have had to light many such -bonfires of late!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This speech had been delivered with the greatest -deference. At its conclusion the colonel lugged out a big -timepiece, and held it open in his left hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"From now five minutes, Madame, Monsieur."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Madame de Vaudrey had listened with terror in her -eyes. She was beginning to speak, but Adèle called -suddenly "Mamma!" in a warning tone, and the lady sank -back in her chair, looking at Harry as he advanced a step -or two towards the officer. Harry's throat felt somewhat -dry; his heart was thumping unpleasantly; but he was to -all appearance perfectly self-possessed as he said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mademoiselle, will you see what can be done?" adding -in an undertone the two words, "the flag!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Adèle nodded.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Pardon, Monsieur." She curtsied to the officer as she -went past him into the hall.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Before discussing the amount of our contribution, -Monsieur le Colonel," said Harry, "may I enquire by -what right you make this demand?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The officer looked him up and down.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Certainly, you may enquire, Monsieur. I answer: by -the right of a hundred sabres, and the practice of war. -In my turn, may I beg of you to let this explanation -suffice. Time presses. But for the presence of -Madame"—he bowed to Madame de Vaudrey—"I should have -regarded your question as a mere impertinence, and -treated it—and you—accordingly."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Madame de Vaudrey looked anxiously from one to the -other, and heaved a sigh of relief as Adèle returned and -resumed her seat by her mother's side.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I marvel, Monsieur," said Harry, after a quick -exchange of glances with the younger lady, "that a soldier -of your rank and experience, acquainted with the practice -of war, should, in your unfortunate position, permit -himself such language."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Comment! My unfortunate position!" The big man -swelled, his red cheeks empurpled. Turning to the ladies -he said: "Is the young man mad?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You shall judge, Monsieur," said Harry quietly. -"Do me the favour to place yourself at the window."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He had just caught sight of one of the colonel's dragoons -galloping up the drive towards the house.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That is one of your hundred sabres, I presume. He -is hastening to inform you that he has met Dutch troops -belonging to General van Santen half a mile up the road. -In the other direction—this way, Monsieur—you can just -see our men barring your retreat. You observed, no -doubt, a canal on your left as you rode along; it is twenty -feet deep; and if you will condescend to come to the back -windows"—the captain followed him as in a daze—"you -will see a large Dutch force occupying yonder woods, -which, save the lake on our right, are your only line of -retreat."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The colonel's astonishment was no greater than Madame -de Vaudrey's. She rose from her chair and moved towards -the window, but was checked by Adèle's restraining hand. -The girl's eyes were shining, a spot of red burned on either -cheek. The colonel stared and stared at Harry, who stood -with a slight smile upon his lips, at the ladies, at the -figures which appeared among the trees beyond the wall—heads -and shoulders, with cocked hats and red collars, and -at every shoulder a musket.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Comment! comment!" he spluttered; then without -another word he hurried from the room, followed by -Harry, just in time to meet the dragoon at the outer door. -The man saluted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mon Colonel," he said in a fluster, "there is a barricade -at the bend in the road half a mile beyond us held by -Dutch troops. My comrade Gustave was knocked off his -horse by——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Donnerwetter!" cried the colonel, relapsing into his -native language. He sprang heavily into his saddle on -the charger held in waiting by one of his troopers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I suppose, Monsieur le Colonel," said Harry carelessly -at his elbow, "you are counting the cost of resistance?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The officer was looking anxiously and indecisively about -him, clearly at a loss what course to take, but as clearly -eager to make a fight of it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I must warn you, Monsieur," added Harry, "that the -least resistance will rob you of all chance of quarter. The -whole countryside is roused to fury by the news of your -exploits. My general has with him not only his own men -but a large force of peasants from the villages. If it comes -to a fight, he may not have the power, even if he had the -inclination, to protect you from their vengeance. They -are barbarous in their methods, these peasants; but then, -as you know, Monsieur, they have been provoked."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At this moment there was a sharp report. A cornet -of the French horse, seeing the barricade of carts suddenly -run across the road by the barn, had sent a party of his -men back to investigate. One of the troopers as they -approached was shot from behind the barricade and fell -from his horse. The echo of the shot had hardly died -away when there came two reports from the barricade up -the road, accompanied by a faint shout. The colonel -gathered up the reins; a dragoon came galloping up -the drive crying:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mon Colonel, we are surrounded!"</span></p> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 83%" id="figure-106"> -<span id="mon-colonel-we-are-surrounded"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt=""Mon Colonel, we are surrounded!"" src="images/img-165.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">"Mon Colonel, we are surrounded!"</span></div> -</div> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You see, Monsieur," continued Harry, "you are in a -ring fence. It is for you to make your choice, and at once, -between surrender and—annihilation."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Harry had not misjudged his man. Utterly bewildered, -the colonel gazed, like a caged animal, helplessly around -him. At the end of the drive his men could be seen -rigid and expectant. Behind him, beyond the wall, he -saw the figures as he supposed of Dutch troops armed, -and with all the advantage of position. The sun, -breaking through the clouds, glinted upon steel which, at the -distance, he could not be expected to recognize as -bill-hooks, pruning-knives, and whatever other implements -the premises had afforded. At a little distance down the -road he saw, through gaps between the trees that lined -the wall, his patrol galloping back to the main body. -Trying to collect himself, he at length set off at a slow -trot towards the gate. Harry at once signed to the two -Dutch soldiers hidden in the cloak-room to come out, and -ordered them to stand at attention one on either side of -the door. The leader of the French patrol pulled his horse -up on its haunches at the road end of the drive.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The road is blocked, mon Colonel," he said, "with -a barricade of carts and beams held by a strong force -of the enemy. We cannot estimate their numbers; they -keep under cover; but one of the men is killed by their -fire, and by their shouts there must be at least a hundred."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Without a word the colonel rode across to the brink -of the canal. The lowness of the water and the height -of the bank showed at a glance that any attempt to swim -his horses across would be disastrous; they could never -scramble up the opposite side. The men might cross and -crawl up, but a moment's reflection showed what the fate -of a small body of men would be, retreating on foot through -a hostile country. The colonel looked down the road; -the blazing barn inspired uncomfortable thoughts. He -had seen many such conflagrations of late, and knew well -that the peasants would take a full toll of revenge if he fell -into their power. Wheeling round, he for the first time -caught sight of the two Dutch soldiers standing behind -Harry on the steps of the house. This seemed to bring -home to him the hopelessness of his position; muttering a -curse he walked his horse slowly up the avenue. Harry -came forward to meet the scowling officer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is the fortune of war, Monsieur. I see you have -chosen the wiser course. You surrender to superior -numbers. I am authorized by my general to accept your -surrender. You will receive honourable treatment; he -knows how to appreciate a gallant warrior; but the -peasants——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The colonel tried to smile.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am concerned—I say it frankly—for the safety of my -men. With your troops,"—he shrugged—"we might -take our chance; but your peasants, your burghers—parbleu! we -know them; they are savages, they are tigers. -To whom, Monsieur, have I the honour of yielding my -sword?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Immediately, Monsieur, to me; my name is Harry -Rochester, an Englishman at present in the—in the -Dutch service; ultimately to General van Santen, to -whom I shall have the honour to introduce you in a few -minutes. Now, Monsieur le Colonel, you will direct your -men to ride up the avenue, dismount, stack their arms in -front of the house, and fasten their horses to the garden -palings behind. Sergeant," he added, turning to one of -the sentinel dragoons, "ride at once to the general and -acquaint him that Monsieur le Colonel——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Baron von Schummelpincken."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That the Baron von Schummelpincken has surrendered. -Send a dozen men to take charge of the horses. In twenty -minutes we shall be in camp."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-battle-of-lindendaal"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XI</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">The Battle of Lindendaal</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="small">A Hitch—A Charge in Flank—Irregular Warfare—Called -Off—A Suggestion—Compliments—Thanks—Adieux—Luck—After -the Fair—A Triumph</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>To his credit, Colonel the Baron von Schummelpincken did -his best to put a good face on the predicament in which he -found himself. He rode back to his men to inform them -of the arrangement. The moment he had gone, Adèle de -Vaudrey came out, her face aglow with excitement.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Monsieur," she said, "General van Santen asks what -the uproar, the firing, means; shall I tell him?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"As you please, Mademoiselle."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is as you please, Monsieur."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The day is not ended yet, Mademoiselle."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I will say nothing, Monsieur." She went into the -house.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The sergeant had spurred across the meadow behind, -through a gate in the wall, into the orchard and wood. -In a few minutes he reappeared with his comrades, who -came at a trot towards the house. Their pace was -leisurely, but a keener observer than the colonel, who at -this moment was half-way up the avenue at the head of his -troops, might have noticed that the horses' flanks were -heaving violently. The men had in fact galloped at full -speed from the horns of the position in obedience to the -sergeant's signals, and only checked the pace in response -to a suggestion of Sherebiah, who had made the best of his -way after them. Harry ordered the ten dragoons to draw -up in line at right angles to the house.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sherry," he said, as the man came up puffing, "bring -me one of the dragoons' horses."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He mounted just as the colonel emerged from the -avenue. Sherry stood by his side at the nearer end of -the line of dragoons.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The colonel, some dozen yards ahead of his men, came -to Harry and handed him his sword. Harry politely -returned it, a compliment which the officer courteously -acknowledged.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Monsieur," said Harry, "we understand the arrangement? -Your men will pile arms in front of the house, file -off to right and left, tie their horses to the palings, then -pass round on foot to the rear of the house."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Certainly, Monsieur."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Harry watched eagerly as the troopers came two by two -up the drive and did his bidding with the precision of -automata. Events had crowded so thickly that he had scarcely -had time to think; but now he could hardly sit still on his -horse, so intense was his anxiety to get the whole scene -over. Everything appeared to be answering to his wishes; -his arrangement for the French dragoons to file off in -opposite directions was a precaution to divide the force; they -began to pass behind the house one by one. About half -of the troop had thus piled their arms and fastened their -horses; the clock in the belfry-tower struck the first note -of noon, and Harry was already congratulating himself -that almost by the time the last of the leisurely Dutch -chimes was ended his ruse would have been completely -successful, when a loud voice was heard from the road.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mon Colonel! mon Colonel! they are only peasants -and burghers. It is a trick, a trick!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was an instant halt. Harry's heart was in his -mouth; Sherebiah muttered, "Zooks! 'tis hot 'taties -now!" The colonel, his face aflame, spurred his horse -from the pillar at the end of the avenue, and, drawing his -sword, vociferated:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A moi! à moi!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For a moment Harry felt that all was lost. But only -for a moment, for in that instant he saw that with his -handful of men in line he had the advantage of the troopers -debouching two by two from the balustraded drive. -Turning to the dragoons at his side he shouted "Charge!" -and dashed straight at the enemy. It was in the nick of -time. A few seconds later they would have been ready; -at this precise moment they were awkwardly placed. Half -a dozen men of the nearer file were leading their horses -towards the palings; beyond them the armed and mounted -men were approaching from the drive, and eight files -presented their flank to Harry's little force of ten. As he -charged, the dismounted men scattered like hares before -him, and the sixteen armed troopers had barely time to -wheel round to meet the onslaught before Harry and his -Dutchmen were upon them. All the advantage of impetus -and direct attack was with the Dutch. Harry, grasping -his sword, came full tilt upon a burly Alsatian. Almost -before he had realized it he had passed over the dragoon -and his horse, and, parrying a swinging cut from the -man behind, had shortened his arm and thrust him through -the shoulder. The man dropped his sabre and fell from -his horse, which wheeled round and plunged madly through -the dismounted men on the farther side.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In a trice Harry was through the mellay, and bringing -his horse up on its haunches, wrenched it round so that he -might take stock of the new situation. He found that -the majority of his Dutch troopers had stuck close to him, -and with the readiness of old campaigners were already -wheeling round to face the discomfited enemy. A dozen -men were on the ground, including the portly colonel; -several horses were careering wildly through the small -open space, impeding the movements of the dismounted -men who had made a dash for the piles of arms in front of -the porch. The French troopers were still filing up the -drive, but the sudden uproar had startled the horses. The -riders were too much occupied with their steeds and too -closely packed to make effective use of their pistols; the -one or two who fired aimed erratically, and no one was hurt. -But Harry saw that the only course open to him was to -charge again and again until the peasants, summoned by -the noise of the fray, could come to his assistance. It was -fortunate that the remainder of the enemy's troop could -only debouch two by two from the drive; the stone -balustrade on each side of it prevented them from deploying -until they entered the open space in front of the house. -Two horses that had been rolled over near the entrance to -the drive were plunging and kicking, hindering the advance -of the leading troopers, who were now being pressed by -the men behind. Once more the little band of Dutchmen -hurled themselves at the head of the enemy's force, and -with the same result, though Harry was instinctively -aware, when he again emerged from the mellay, that his -followers were fewer in number. Among them, however, -he noticed Sherebiah, who had possessed himself of a -sword and pistol from the stand of arms and a horse from -the palings, and was comporting himself as though, so far -from being a man of peace, he had as much experience of -warfare as any trooper present. Two of Madame de -Vaudrey's gardeners also had appropriated weapons, and -were holding at bay a group of the disarmed enemy who -hovered round, trying to dash in and recover their arms.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Harry saw little of this, however. He wheeled his horse -once more to repeat the charge. He was followed now by -only six men; at least a dozen fresh troopers had debouched -from the drive, but, like their comrades, they had not time -to form before the dauntless seven were upon them. The -odds were heavier now; only two succeeded in getting -through; the rest were checked. Then ensued a series of -fierce duels, the little group of Dutch being broken up and -driven back by the weight of the files pressing through as -rapidly as they might into the open space. Harry, engaged -with a stout trooper, felt with a sinking heart that the -game was up; his arm was wrung with hacking and -thrusting; his opponent, fresh to the fight, closed with -him, leant over his saddle, and tried to grip him by the -throat. At this moment there was a fierce shout, followed -by a perfect babel of cries. The trooper fell from his -horse, transfixed in the nick of time by Sherebiah's sword; -and when Harry after a few seconds was able once more -to take in what was happening, he saw the place thick -with burghers and peasants who were falling upon the -enemy from both balustrades. Some had leapt on to the -coping and were dealing heavy blows at the dragoons and -their horses with sticks, hooks, scythes, and all kinds of -strange implements; others were jabbing through the -interstices of the balustrades; all were shouting, smiting, -felling with a fierce vehemence that brooked no resistance. -A panic seized upon the enemy; the unarmed men bolted -to the stables behind the house and barricaded themselves -there; the last files of the dragoons threw down their arms -and begged for quarter; and, turning to Sherebiah, Harry -bade him cry to the peasants, with the full force of his -lungs, to hold their hands.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A lull succeeded the turmoil. A crowd of the Dutch -were hastening towards the stables to burst open the -doors and make short work of the men sheltered there. -To them Harry galloped up.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Men," he said, "halt! in the name of General van -Santen. The victory is ours. We must await the general's -orders."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The mob hesitated, then, with obedience compelled by -their young leader's mien, stood in sullen silence. Harry -rode back to the opening of the drive, stationed two of -the Dutch dragoons there, and addressed the colonel, who, -with a lacerated cheek and contused shoulder, leant against -the palings, a picture of chagrin, pain, and baffled rage.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Monsieur, 'twas not well done. Your parole was given. -But you are hurt; go to the house—you will find tendance -there."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At this moment another horseman suddenly appeared on -the scene, galloping up from behind the house. Wheeling -his horse in some surprise, Harry found himself face to -face with Madame de Vaudrey's neighbour, Monsieur de -Polignac. He looked greatly perturbed; his mouth was -twitching; the air of cynical detachment he had worn in -Madame de Vaudrey's drawing-room had quite disappeared.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Monsieur, what is this, what is this?" he cried.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"As you see, Monsieur—a skirmish," replied Harry. -"We have captured a raiding-party—and doubtless saved -your house from the flames."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But—but—do you not see your peril? You are not a -soldier; these men are not soldiers, the most of them; to -wage war is for you quite irregular; if caught by the -French—and I hear, Monsieur, rumours of a general -advance in this direction—you will all be hanged."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I will take my chance of that," said Harry. "I thank -you, nevertheless, for your warning, Monsieur."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Bah! I counsel you to release your prisoners—without -arms, it is understood—and send them back to their lines."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That is a matter for General van Santen, Monsieur. -Would you care to repeat your advice to him?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Polignac gave him a savage look, opened his mouth to -speak, thought better of it, and, setting spurs to his horse, -galloped away.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The scene of this tempestuous little fight differed greatly -from its appearance a short half-hour before. Thirty men, -of whom twenty-four were French, lay killed or wounded, -with a few horses. The stone balustrades were broken in -several places; the flower-beds were trampled; the gravel -was ploughed up; shattered muskets, swords, scabbards, -pistols, hats, cloaks, strewed the ground.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Carry the dead to the garden," said Harry. "Take the -wounded to the outbuildings and attend to them; there is -a doctor in the house. A dozen of you take arms from -the pile there and guard the prisoners; lock them up in -the stables. Sherebiah, I leave you in charge."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then, hot, weary, hatless, his coat showing several rents, -Harry followed the wounded colonel into the house.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Monsieur," said Adèle, meeting him, "the general -insists on seeing you. He was with difficulty restrained -from rising and taking part in the fray. You are weary; -a cup of wine will refresh you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Harry gladly quaffed at the cup she presented to him. -Then he followed her into the dining-room. The general -frowned when he saw him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I want to see the leader," he exclaimed testily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"This is he, Monsieur," said Ad<ble.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You, Monsieur!—Mademoiselle, a youth, a boy—absurd!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It has been my good fortune, Monsieur," said Harry.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The general looked blank with astonishment. He half-raised -himself on his cushions, sinking back with a groan.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They would tell me nothing, save that the French were -discomfited. Explain, from the beginning."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Harry gave a rapid narrative of the late events. He -spoke always of "we", seeming to include Adèle, the -general himself, and even Madame de Vaudrey, who had -joined them, among those who had planned the ruse. -Every now and then the general broke into his story with -exclamations of surprise and pleasure and praise.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A daring, a clever scheme," he said as Harry concluded. -"You are an Englishman, they tell me; a soldier, -I presume?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, Monsieur le General, I have not that honour."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That is the army's loss. You have shown great -quickness, great skill, and no less courage. I compliment -you, Monsieur."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I did what I could, of course, Monsieur; but things -would have ended very differently but for the peasants' -bold attack at the last."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Bah! I know them; they would have done nothing -without a leader, but with a leader they will fight—yes, -and well. I doubt whether, in point of military honour, -the French colonel—whom I will tax on the subject -presently—did right to reassume command after he had -yielded his sword; still, much may be forgiven him; -naturally he was chagrined and perturbed; and he is -moreover wounded, as I hear."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The general spoke with difficulty; he was very weak.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You have saved your convoy; that is well. You will -wish to take it to Breda. I fear I cannot move. Madame -la Comtesse, I shall be your patient for a time——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Monsieur, I am honoured," said the lady.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But the prisoners must be carried to Breda also. -Monsieur, that duty—that honour—must be yours. You -have laid many under an obligation: Mynheer Grootz, -your excellent employer; the garrison at Breda; Madame -la Comtesse, whose house you have saved; and -myself—especially myself, for without doubt you preserved me -from capture, and in my wounded state capture might -very well have finished me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I hope for your speedy recovery, Monsieur."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I thank you. Now, you will take six of my troopers -with you; armed burghers will serve for the remainder of -your escort. I marvel that help has not ere this reached -us from Breda; you will report to my aide-de-camp, whom -you will doubtless meet there or on the road. Your name, -Monsieur, is——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Harry Rochester, Monsieur."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mademoiselle will note it down for me. My friend -Mynheer Grootz will have a visit from me. I am -fatigued; Mademoiselle, a little cordial from your fair -hand. Monsieur, I bid you farewell."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Harry bowed and left the room, tingling with pleasure -at the general's praise. He went to the reception-room -and gladly stretched his weary limbs on a low couch there. -Madame de Vaudrey followed him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How can I thank you!" she exclaimed. "I do thank -you, from my heart, a thousand times. How brave! I -trembled, I wept when I heard the horrid sounds; I could -not look; Adèle looked and told me; I thought you -would be killed; I was overcome, I could only pray. Oh! -Monsieur, what can I say? I can say nothing; I can -only—yes; tiens! I kiss you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At another time Harry might have been embarrassed; -he was now so tired that he could but accept passively all -the motherly cares lavished on him by the comtesse. She -brought him food with her own hands, smoothed his hair, -begged him vainly to accept a ring as a token of her -admiration and gratitude; offered to give him a coat of -her late husband's to replace his own torn garment. -Harry stood it all as long as he could; at last, parrying -another kiss, he sprang up and declared it was time he -set off with his prisoners and the convoy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The prisoners capable of marching numbered eighty-five. -The remainder were too badly wounded to be -moved. Gathering his escort, he had the stable door -unlocked and the prisoners paraded, and sent Sherebiah -to marshal the convoy. All was at length ready. It was -half-past one when he stood at the door to take leave of -Madame de Vaudrey.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Adieu, Monsieur Harry!" she said. "Au revoir!—that -is what I mean. You will come and see us again?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nothing would delight me more, Madame."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And stay; convey my thanks to Mynheer Grootz for -the tulip bulb; you will remember that? and yourself take -the thanks of a mother and daughter. Adèle!" she -called, "Monsieur Rochestair is departing. Come and -bid him farewell."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Adieu, Monsieur!" said Adèle, coming forward. "I -add my thanks to Mamma's for the great service you have -done us."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I could have done little, Mademoiselle, without your aid."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A flicker of pleasure passed over the girl's face; then, -with a return to her wonted coldness, she said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You are pleased to flatter, Monsieur. But I see there -are still knights-errant in the world. Adieu!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There were tears in Madame de Vaudrey's eyes as she -put her arms up and kissed Harry on the cheek. He -bowed over her hand, then sprang on to the horse of one -of the captured dragoons, and cantered after the line of -wagons and men already moving up the road. As he -reached them he had the impulse to turn for a last look -at the chateau. The turret was just visible above the -tree-tops, and upon it he saw a female figure motionless.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"One of the maids hauling down the flag, I suppose," -he thought.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then he set his face towards Breda; it was Adèle who -stood there watching until he was out of sight.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What a lucky dog I am, Sherry!" he remarked to his -sturdy henchman as they rode side by side.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay sure, Master Harry, 'tis better to be born lucky -nor rich. But speaken for myself, I doan't zackly see -there be much luck about it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh yes! there is. 'Twas merely luck that Mynheer -Grootz had to send me this way; mere luck that he had -promised Madame de Vaudrey a tulip; mere luck that the -French chose that very day to come raiding; mere luck -that the place lent itself so easily to a trick——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, and mere luck that 'ee happened to be born wi' a -headpiece; mere luck that 'ee can handle a sword and sit -a horse; mere luck that 'ee've got sojer's blood a-rompen -through your veins. Daze me, if all that be luck—well, -Them above med as well ha' no finger in poor mortal -pies at all."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, well, Sherry! But confess, 'twas odd to come -upon Captain Aglionby again, and in that house; what do -you say to that?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Say! I say 'tis old Satan hisself playen pranks, and -we'll ha' to keep an eye on the villain."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I laughed to see their heads in chancery; 'twas -well done, Sherry, to haul them down the stairs as -you did. What has become of the captain to-day, I -wonder?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Trust me, he be doen mischief somewheres. I knows -Cap'n, ay, I do."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>From the stout Baron von Schummelpincken downwards -the prisoners wore a crest-fallen air. Save for the -colonel and his subalterns they all marched on foot, the -horses being tied head to tail as Harry had often seen at -English country fairs. They had been marching for about -an hour when the head of the convoy met General van -Santen's aide-de-camp galloping at breakneck speed. -He reined up when he noticed soldiers among the men. -Harry cantered to his side. Explanations were rapidly -exchanged. The Dutchman laughed heartily when he -heard how the enemy had been fooled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"To tell the truth," he said, "I should never have -thought the general capable of such a stratagem."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Indeed!" said Harry.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I wish I had been there. It would have been more -fitting that I should take the prisoners to Breda than you, -a sutler, I suppose you call yourself."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't think it necessary to call anybody names, -Mynheer, myself least of all. The general expected -assistance; why has it not accompanied you, Mynheer?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The officer explained that on reaching Breda he had -found that practically the whole garrison was engaged in -a reconnaissance in force towards Antwerp, where General -de Bedmar was showing signs of activity that gave the -confederate generals some concern. Only two troops of -horse had been retained in the town, and these had strict -orders not to leave the place. Infantry would be of little -use against the French raiders, and indeed it was -impossible that they should reach Madame de Vaudrey's -house in time. The aide-de-camp had been accordingly -provided with a fresh mount and sent on to the main -body, from which a squadron had at once been detached. -But the corps, when he overtook it, was a good ten miles -beyond Breda, and the relief squadron could not start for -the Helmund road until the afternoon. It was now some -twenty minutes behind the aide-de-camp, who had ridden -forward to convey to the general the news of the coming -reinforcement.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He continued his journey, and Harry cantered on to -overtake the convoy, which had moved on while the -conversation took place. Some minutes later a cloud of dust -in the distance heralded the approaching force. When the -two bodies met, Harry had reluctantly to tell his story over -again. The commander of the squadron pressed him for -more details than the general's aide-de-camp had done, -and being a shrewd man he soon put two and two together.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The honour of the day is yours, my friend," he said -to Harry, "and by my soul you shall ride into Breda at -the head of the column."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Harry protested; he did not relish the idea of heading -a sort of circus procession. But the Dutchman insisted; -General van Santen had laid the duty upon Harry, and he -saw no reason to relieve him of it. He sent a couple of -his troopers on in advance to announce the event. Thus it -happened that when, in the dusk, Harry headed his convoy -through the gates, he was met by a great concourse of the -populace, men, women, and children huzzaing and waving -hats and kerchiefs with vast enthusiasm. All the pretty -girls of the town, in their quaint bonnets and short skirts, -pressed around the horse to see the young Englishman, -and a comical little Dutch boy, with a toy drum slung -over his shoulder, placed himself in front of Harry's horse -and proudly tattooed him through the streets to the -burgomaster's house. The burgomaster himself made a very -flowery speech of congratulation, to which Harry returned -the best acknowledgment he could; and he was heartily -glad when the tide of compliments ebbed and he had -leisure to make formal delivery of his prisoners.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He had not yet escaped, however. He was resting -in his inn when a messenger entered with an invitation -to an impromptu banquet organized at the burgomaster's. -In vain Harry pleaded that he was in no trim for fine -company. The burgomaster's own tailor undertook to -make him presentable; he had to sit through a long Dutch -feast and respond to the toast of his health. Even then his -labours were not ended. After the banquet the company -adjourned to the council chamber, where all the beauty -of the town was assembled. Harry had to lead off the -dance with the burgomaster's wife, a stout vrouw of -forty-five years and fifteen stone. He did his duty manfully, -dancing the stately dances of the day with unflagging -spirit, and winning universal praise by the modesty with -which he wore his honours. The assembly broke up at -a late hour; Harry was dog-tired, and went to bed -convinced that it was mighty hard work to be a popular hero.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="harry-is-discharged"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XII</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">Harry is Discharged</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="small">Rheum and Rum—Gall—Without Ceremony—A Question of -Precedence—Res Angustae—The Raw—To -Scheveningen—Punctuality and Despatch—From the Dutch -Side—Temptation—Renunciation—Gretel—Misgivings</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"Atchew!—confusion! This pestilent country—atchew!—will -be the death of me. 'Tis one eternal—-atchew!—rheum! -Stap my vitals! I wish I were dead. Atchew! atchew!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Captain Aglionby sat in the topmost room of a high -house in one of the less savoury quarters of the Hague. -His nose was redder than ever; his cheeks more puffed; -his eyes looked like boiled oysters. A thick woollen -comforter swathed his neck. Though it was the height of -summer, a big log fire blazed in the hearth; window and -door were fast shut; and in a temperature of something -over eighty degrees the captain was doing his best, -according to his lights, to cure a cold.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was seated at a table drawn close to the fire. Upon -the table stood a bottle nearly empty, a beaker, a basin of -sugar, an inkhorn, a table-book of writing-paper, and a -sheath containing quills. A kettle sang on the fire. When -his sneezing fit was over, the captain poured the last of -his rum into the beaker, sugared it, filled up with boiling -water, and gulped half of the mixture into a throat inured -to fiery passengers. Water streamed from his eyes, and -his blotched brow broke into a profuse perspiration. He -wiped his face with a large red handkerchief, smacked his -lips, and, bending over the table, selected a quill.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hang writing!" he muttered. "I never writ a letter -but I rued it. Atchew! And with this cursed cold! -Well, the sooner begun, the sooner done; so here's to it. -Atchew!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He cut his quill, dipped it in the ink, and began:</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="small">"Mr. BARKLEY. Sir."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>It would have been quite evident to an onlooker that -the captain was not a practised penman. He wrote very -laboriously, frowning at every stroke, and licking his lips -often. Like most illiterate people, he repeated half aloud -the words as he wrote them, and being so unused to -giving visible expression to his thoughts, he commented -as he went along. He was never at a loss how to spell -a word, for in those days men spelt as they pleased, and -bad spelling might almost have been regarded as one of -the marks of a gentleman.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"Sir. This will, I hope, finde you well. For myself, I am -afflicted [atchew!] with a voilent Rheum, the wch I feare will -turne to an inflamatn of the Longs. [Egad! that'll please the -old niggard!] I command the sarvices of the best Potticary -in the place, but finding his nostrums vain, for three dayes have -eate nought but Water Gruel. 'Tis said that Rumm is a speedie -Cure, but that I eschew. [Atchew!] My Hande shakes with -the feaver, & I shd not rite to you now had I not Surprizing -Nuse to give. You must knowe that, visitting at the house of -Mme de Vodray, where your he sarvant is ever an honour'd -guest, [that's worth fifty guineas to me!] what was my vaste -Amazement to finde there that yonge Cockerell H—— R—— -swaggering it as one of the beste. It passes my wit to divine -how he escap'd from the </span><em class="italics">Merrie Maide</em><span>, & hope y may recover -the Passage Money, the wch methinks will be difficult. [Atchew! -He won't get a penny o't.] 'Tis passing strange the boy is -here, not lesse that he is acquaint with the Vodrays; & moreover -with him is my pestilent cozn S—— M——, of whom more hereafter, -'twill be easie to deal with him, whereto I have already -things </span><em class="italics">in Traine</em><span>. H—— R—— is employ'd with one Grootz, -a merchant of Substance, & one that hath large Contracks with -the confederate armies. The boy being out of yr way, y have -belike no further cause against him, & wd wish no further stepps -taken, comming & going is like at any time to Cooke his Goose, -but if I mistake in this 'twould be well to sende 100 Guineas by -the same Hande as wont, & I wd endevour to bring the matter to -a safe and speedie End, in wch case I wd make bold to aske for a -further Summe of 200 Guineas for to requite my Zeale in the -sarvice of my honour'd Frende & Patron."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"Atchew! Writing is plaguily dry work," he muttered, -breaking off at this point, "and the bottle's empty."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He tugged at a bell-pull, and resumed his letter.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"'Twill be no light Taske, seeing the yonge man hath captured -of late a Partie of above 100 French in an Affaire near Breda, the -wch I doubte not will give him some Consekence with the Dutch -no less than himselfe, of the wch Affaire 'tis like an Account will -be printed in the </span><em class="italics">Courant</em><span>. [Sure 'twill give Nick a start.] I -must add that Living is </span><em class="italics">verie Deare</em><span> here. For my Creditt sake -and the furtherance of youre Ends, I have hired a Magnifficent -Appartment, for the wch I have to paye a sweete Rent. Hence it -is verie nessessarie I have the Guineas without delai. Waiting -yr commands & so subscribe myself yr ever humble and obediant</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>RALPH AGLIONBY, Captain."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"Atchew! There, 'tis done, and writ fair." He flung -his pen on the table. "And I'd fain know what the squire -has against the knave; 'tis more than pique, I promise -you. Where's Simmons, confound him!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He sanded the wet paper, folded it, sealed it with yellow -wax, and wrote the superscription:</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<dl class="docutils"> -<dt class="noindent"><em class="italics small">For Nicolas Barkley Esqre</em></dt> -<dd><dl class="docutils first last"> -<dt class="noindent"><em class="italics small">at his house</em></dt> -<dd><dl class="docutils first last"> -<dt class="noindent"><em class="italics small">Winton St. Mary</em></dt> -<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><em class="italics small">nr Salisbury, England</em></p> -</dd> -</dl> -</dd> -</dl> -</dd> -</dl> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>This done, he tugged again at the bell-pull, blew his nose -with sounding ferocity, and stuck his legs into the hearth -with the air of a man who had successfully achieved a -stupendous task.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The door opened, and John Simmons entered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hang you, sirrah! why don't you answer my bell at -the very moment, sir? Go get me a bottle of rum."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Simmons, pallid, frowsy, scared-looking, stood hesitating -in the doorway.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Are you deaf, clodpoll?" roared the captain. "A -bottle of rum, and instantly!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, Captain, and the—and the money, sir?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The money, you dog! Where is the crown-piece I -gave you this morning?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I had to buy the dinner, sir, and——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Zounds! You'll answer me, will you? You're the -most pestilent knave man ever had to serve him. 'Tis -money, money, all day with you. Would that Sherry -Minshull had left you to the hangman! Begone, -sirrah! and——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Pardon!" said a voice in French from the door. "If -I am in the way——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come in, Monsieur," said Aglionby, springing to his -feet. "And you, booby, be off and do my bidding."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Simmons vanished precipitately. Monsieur de Polignac -gasped as he entered the overheated room.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Phew! It would roast an ox."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Shut the door. I am nursing a pestilent rheum."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So it appears. You are in an ill humour, my friend; -I fear my news will not cheer you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Spit it out and have done with it, then."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, this is it. A commission has been made out, -I hear, appointing your young Englishman a cornet in the -Anspach dragoons."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What young Englishman?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The young man whom we met at Madame de Vaudrey's."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The captain swore a hearty British oath.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where learnt you that?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A la bonne heure! It is true. I have it on authority -I cannot doubt. Van Santen pressed it; his influence -prevailed. There were several vacancies in the regiment; it -lost heavily in the action at Eckeren a few weeks ago. -This boy gets the senior cornetcy. We owe it to -ourselves, Monsieur le Capitaine, that the junior cornets get -an early step."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Peste! We do owe it to ourselves; or, I should rather -say, we owe it to yourself. For me, I have knocked about -the world too long to take umbrage easily; and look you, -Monsieur, my family, although gentle, indeed I may say -noble, cannot compare with yours in quartet-ings and such -fal-lals. I understand your sentiments; as you say, -something must be done."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And at once, for which end I have come to see you. -My position, as you perceive, is delicate; for myself, I -would seek a quarrel with the bantling and spit him on -my rapier without remorse. But affairs of state—you -understand me; that alters the case. I must not appear. -I propose to you this: to affront the boy, provoke him to -a duel; you a veteran, he a tyro; it will be a matter of -seconds. Voilà!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The captain gazed steadily at Polignac for a few -moments, then said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Look you, Polignac, no man ever accused Ralph -Aglionby, late captain in the Preobrashenski Grenadiers, of -lack of courage—no man, that is to say, that lived to tell -of it. Had you made the proposition twenty years ago, -I should by this time have been half-way down the stairs -on the way to kill this young springald. But twenty -years make a difference. My courage is the same, look -you; but the years have enlarged my girth—and my -discretion. On the point of honour I am as sensitive as ever -I was, but I have learnt to have patience—and consideration. -Say I engage this peddling fool; what happens? I -kill him and baulk you of your revenge. Where are you, -my friend? Or suppose, by some vile contrivance, he kills -me; where am I? No, no, Monsieur; the right of place -belongs to you. Who am I, a broken soldier, a poor -unnecessary captain of grenadiers, to take precedence of -you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You have most admirable patience," sneered Polignac, -"and I am overwhelmed by your consideration. I thank -you, Monsieur le Capitaine, and bid you adieu."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Stay, my friend; why this haste? I have consideration, -as you say. Would the world be better for the loss -of you or me? are there not more ways of getting even -with a man than making one's self a target for his pistol -or a sheath for his sword? You remember Marillier, and -Aubin, eh? Sit down, and let us talk this over like -reasonable men."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Polignac sat on one of the rickety chairs in silence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Your memory is jogged, eh? You remember the dark -lane, and the light in the window, and——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Enough!" exclaimed the other impatiently. "My -memory is as good as yours. This is different. I must -be circumspect. Were we in Paris—then! But here at -the Hague, I am not my own master; I have weightier -interests to consider. An incautious step, even a chance -word, may ruin a dynasty. My own life—I do not consider -it; but when one is playing for a crown one has duties, -responsibilities. If you see your way—well, I am not -one to dissuade you; and if a few guilders——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Aglionby's red eyes gleamed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, Monsieur, as you put it so, I own 'tis in a -measure a question of money. In truth 'tis desperate hard -lines that I, who have ruffled it with the best and got drunk -with the Czar of Muscovy himself, should be so hard -driven as that I cannot offer due hospitality to a friend. -Look at this wretched lodging; was ever gentleman, by -no fault of his own, mark you, reduced to such straits!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Polignac, glancing at the mean furniture and the empty -bottle, agreeably assented, but concealed a smile.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well," he said, "might I ask leave to send out for -a bottle of wine?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Aglionby jumped up with alacrity.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You say so? 'Tis the mark of a true friend." He pulled -hard at the bell-rope. "My man will be here instantly; -and, Monsieur, let it be sack—sack, as you love me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Simmons reappeared without delay, and was despatched -for a bottle of sack. With the energy of pleasurable -anticipation the captain pursued:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now, my dear Polignac, mark—before attempting the -house 'tis well to poison the dog; aha! that is only my -way of putting it, eh?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Of course. A figure of speech; but from the life!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Aglionby flung him a suspicious glance; at times he had -an uneasy feeling that Polignac was quizzing him. But -after a momentary pause he went on as before.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The dog in this case—and a low cur it is—is the -young cockerel's servant—the same that embraced you so -cordially at Madame de Vaudrey's. Ha! ha! I can relish -the comical side of it e'en though he embraced me -also!—and before the charming mademoiselle too!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He guffawed uproariously. He felt that he was now getting -tit for tat for Polignac's covert sneers, often rather -suspected than understood. But he was not a little startled -by the effect of his words and laughter. Polignac flushed -purple with rage; his mouth took a very decided twist -towards his left eye. Springing up suddenly he cried:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Morbleu, Monsieur, a truce to your pleasantries! and -keep the lady's name out of it, or by the——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No offence, no offence, my dear fellow," interposed -the captain hastily. "I'm but a plain soldier—just an -honest, bluff, outspoken old campaigner; we blades don't -pick and choose our words like you fine gentlemen of the -courts; though in truth when I was in Russia my manners -were as good as the best."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Polignac resumed his seat reluctantly without a word. -After a short, strained silence Aglionby went on:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The first thing, as I was saying, is to get this dog -out of the way. Burn him! he follows his master like a -shadow. The man removed, the rest is easy. A week -from now, and he shall lie his length in six feet of good -Dutch soil, or my name isn't Ralph Montacute Aglionby. -Leave it to me, Monsieur; there will be necessary -expenses; say fifty guilders, a small sum, and at one -time——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Send to my chambers; you shall have the money. -And by the way, here is a packet for Captain Rudge of -the </span><em class="italics">Skylark</em><span>. He sails with this evening's tide. Bid him -have the greatest care of it; should he run into danger he -must destroy it.—It is arranged, then? I shall hear from -you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Within a week, on the word of a gentleman."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then for the time, adieu!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When Polignac had gone, Aglionby looked curiously at -the packet entrusted to him. The address ran:</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<dl class="docutils"> -<dt class="noindent"><em class="italics small">For Mistress Consterdine</em></dt> -<dd><dl class="docutils first last"> -<dt class="noindent"><em class="italics small">to be left at the coffee-house,</em></dt> -<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><em class="italics small">by the Cockpitt, Whitehall, London.</em></p> -</dd> -</dl> -</dd> -</dl> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>It was carefully but not conspicuously sealed. The captain -turned it over and over in his dirty hands; they itched -to open it. "To judge by his rage," he muttered, "he's -certainly smit with Mademoiselle de Vaudrey. 'Tis not -merely his interest is engaged." He sat musing for a -moment. Then his eye fell on a broadsheet, marked with -many circular stains, that lay on one of the chairs. He -took it up and searched for a passage which he had clearly -already read. Lighting upon it, he read:</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"The report goes that Coy's Horse embark at Harwich for -Ostend on Friday the 16th current. They will join the forces -now operating under General Lumley in Dutch Flanders."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"With a fair wind they'll make port to-morrow. Then, -Sherebiah Minshull, my sweet coz, we shall begin to -square accounts,—you and I."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Stuffing the two packets into his capacious pocket, he -clapped on his hat, flung a cloak over his shoulders, -wound the comforter more tightly about his neck, and -made his way out, sneezing half a dozen times as he -met the cooler air of the street. He walked along the -Lange Pooten, the chief business thoroughfare, into an -open space known as the Plein. As he was crossing this -he caught sight of a figure hastening into one of the -larger houses, and almost involuntarily he stepped aside -into a doorway until all danger of being seen was past.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What is the puppy doing here?" he muttered, passing -on his way to the old road to Scheveningen. After a -pleasant woodland walk of two miles he reached that little -fishing village, and found, as he expected, Captain Rudge, -owner and skipper of the sloop </span><em class="italics">Skylark</em><span>, a fast sailer which -ran to and fro between Scheveningen and Harwich. To -him Aglionby confided his own letter and Polignac's. -Then he retraced his steps, and at the Hague took horse -for Rotterdam. It was near midnight when he returned -and wearily climbed the lofty stair to his attic room; but -though he was fatigued, and his cold perceptibly worse, -he seemed well satisfied with himself, and chuckled many -a time before he had drained to the dregs the bottle of -sack he had broached with Monsieur de Polignac.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The person from whose sight he had shrunk in the -afternoon was Harry Rochester himself, who had just -returned from a visit to Marlborough's camp at Hanneff. -Mynheer Grootz was up to his eyes in business, and the -wide area over which the confederate forces were spread -taxed his resources to the utmost. He had now come to -the Hague to confer with a committee of the States -General and arrange further contracts, and had instructed -Harry to meet him there on the completion of his own -errand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, my boy," said Grootz on his arrival, "I did not -expect you zo zoon." They were now on such friendly -and familiar terms that the Dutchman had dropped the -formal address. "How have you fared?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Excellently, Mynheer," replied Harry. "The -commissary was well content with your arrangements, and -said—'tis no harm to repeat it—that were all Dutchmen -like Jan Grootz he would be spared a peck of trouble."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Dat is goot," said Grootz, evidently well pleased. -"Dat is how I do my business; always in time, always -ready, always sure."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I had hoped to catch a glimpse of my lord Marlborough -himself, but 'twas not to be. Whatever may be -said of his meanness and selfishness, Mynheer, 'tis certain -he is adored by his army. The soldiers are full of courage, -confident in my lord's genius, and all afire to meet the -French. They say, indeed, that if my lord were but free -of restraint, not bound to take counsel with your -politicians here, one campaign would see the end of the war."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Dey zay!—Yes, well, it may be zo. My lord is a fine -soldier—none would deny it—for all he dink little of de -rules of war. But as for de field deputies—my -countrymen—dey alzo have reason. To Lord Marlborough and you -English, my boy, a defeat mean much; dat is zo; but -to my country—ah! much more. To us it mean ruin, -every village and town overrun, our polders spoiled, our -homes destroyed, everywhere black misery. Dis poor -country know it all too well; we have suffered—ah yes! we -have suffered before too often. For my lord, it is a -game wherein he can noding lose but glory; for us it is -a struggle of life and death. True, for myself, I zay in -war, as in business, to follow a bold course is best; but I -do not derefore blame our statesmen dat dey move zlowly; -no, I do not blame dem."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Harry had seen more than once lately that beneath the -stolid exterior of the merchant beat a heart warm toward -his fatherland and his friends. He could not but recognize -much to sympathize with in the Dutch point of view, and -began to realize what it meant to the Hollanders to have -their country turned into a cockpit for the political -contentions of rival monarchs.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A slight pause followed Grootz's earnest speech; then -suddenly, with a change of tone, he said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now, Mynheer Harry, I have a ding to zay. Dere are -reasons why I find it now necessary to discharge you from -my business."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Harry gasped and looked very blank. The merchant -nodded solemnly; up came his fat forefinger; and he -continued with even more deliberation than usual:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Dat is zo. I tell you dis; I find no fault wid you; -none in de world; but all de same, I zay dat it is necessary -you go."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Harry was so much taken aback that he found it difficult -to speak.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why—'tis sudden—what can—surely—" his tongue -stumbled over half a dozen questions before, with an effort -to command himself, he said: "Of course, Mynheer, if -there is nothing more for me to do, I must perforce seek -other work. You have been very kind to me; 'tis but poor -thanks I can give you for what you have done."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What I have done! Gunst! it is noding. And you: -it needs not to zeek oder work; it is found. Hearken -to dis."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He took up an official-looking paper that lay at his hand -and read in Dutch:</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"Mynheer Henry Rochester is appointed to a cornetcy in the -Anspach dragoons in succession to Mynheer Lodewyk van -Monnen deceased."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Harry flushed to the eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Tis a mistake, Mynheer, surely. I have not sought -this; I know nothing of it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A mistake! Not at all. General van Santen come -to me and zay, 'Grootz, you have in your business a -young man dat has no business to be in your business; he -is a soldier, noding less, and we have need of such;' dat -is what he zay, and more, and he go straight off to put -down your name for a commission. And here it is, in de -gazette. Dat is why I discharge you, before—" (Mynheer -Grootz made a brave attempt to be jocular)—"before you -discharge yourself."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Harry was silent. His nerves were tingling, his blood -sang in his veins. Here was the opening to a career after -his own heart. All his earlier longings came back to him; -the inward struggle with which he had acquiesced in his -father's desire that he should enter the Church; the light -of hope that shone on him at his interview with Marlborough; -the agonizing dissolution of his castle in the air. -And now, unsought, what he had sought in vain had come -to him, the aspiration of his boyhood was about to be -fulfilled. All this flashed through his mind in a moment of -time,—and there was Jan Grootz, smiling out of his kindly -little eyes. Jan Grootz!—what he owed to him! But for -Jan Grootz he might now be a hapless slave in the Plantations, -with no ray of light upon the endless vista of the -years. To Jan Grootz he owed his health and freedom, -his training in dealing with men; more than all, he had -met in Jan Grootz a man whose character compelled his -respect and admiration, and whom indeed he had begun to -love. Would it not be the worst of ingratitude to leave -him now?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The temptation was strong, the inward struggle sharp. -But it was only a few moments after the staggering -announcement when he bent forward and said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mynheer, I cannot accept this offer—this splendid -offer. 'Tis exceeding kind of General van Santen; I owe -him my hearty thanks; but 'tis not to be thought of, save -you yourself wish to be rid of me, and that I must doubt, -since 'tis but a week since you told me I was useful to you. -I will see the general, and explain to him the reason why I -decline this commission; I must do so at once."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He made towards the door, as though eager to avoid -dalliance. Grootz's broad plain face was transfigured by -delight and pride and gratification. Catching Harry by -the arm, he drew him back, laid his hand on his shoulder, -and said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, Harry, my dear lad, I tell you dis; you must not -do dis ding. I do not zay I shall not feel your -loss"—there was an unusual note of tenderness in his -voice—"true, it is not long dat we have worked togeder, but -already I regard you—jawohl, regard you as a son, and to -miss your bright face, your willing service——hoot! by -den donder, I am not myself to-day."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Tis too kind of you, Mynheer."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nay, nay; I am not zo weak. I am at one wid -General van Santen: you are made for a soldier. 'Tis -de work you yourself would have chosen; now 'tis de -tide of fortune, dat you dare not miss. I tell you dis; I -am made up in my mind, fixed, noding can move me. -I salute you, Mynheer Rochester, cornet in de Anspach -dragoons."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Indeed, 'tis too good of you, Mynheer."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not zo. And dis I tell you alzo. You know me, Jan -Grootz; I prosper—God prospers me. I regard you as -my son: well, 'tis a fader's pleasure to provide for his son -at de beginning of dings, just as 'tis a skipper's pleasure -to zee his ship sail taut and trim. You will have heavy -charges: clothes, equipment, a horse to buy. Dose -charges, you will permit me, zall be mine. 'Tis but -right you should take your place wid de best. I have -no kith nor kin, nor like to have; de pay for dragoons -is little enough; I add a hundred guilders a month; dat -will suffice, dink you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But, Mynheer——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Poof! no buts. I zall do as please me. Now, I am -hungry: let us go to de parlour. And dere is your man -to tell; he will, no doubt, continue to be your servant."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They went from the room, Grootz keeping his hand -affectionately on Harry's shoulder. The table in the -parlour was already laid, and in answer to the bell old -Gretel appeared with a tureen of soup.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Gretel," said the merchant, "Mynheer Harry is about -to leave us."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There! Something inside told me, Mynheer, you -would not keep him long."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Tis not of my own will, Gretel," said Harry at once.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," added Grootz. "The lad was not eager. He is -to be an officer of dragoons."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The old woman curtsied and grunted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A rare exchange!" she said. "To my mind 'tis better -to sell corn than to stand up to be shot at, and a deal safer. -But I wish you good luck, Mynheer."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thanks, Gretel, for that and for all your kindness to -me. Is Sherry downstairs?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ja, Mynheer."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Send him up, if you please. I must tell him the news."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh! he will not be pleased. He has a scorn of soldiers, -never a good word to say for them. He is in the right."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Harry smiled as the privileged old housekeeper hobbled -out. Sherebiah soon appeared.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sherry," said Harry, "I have a thing to tell you. -General van Santen has recommended me to the heads of -the Dutch army, and I am made an officer of dragoons."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Zooks!" was the man's astonished exclamation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We shall still be together, you and I. I shall want a -man, of course; and you will not object to the place?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, sir," said Sherebiah slowly, looking down at his -boots, "'tis an awk'ard matter for a man o' peace. 'Tis a -line o' life I ha' no love for. To be sarvant to a man o' -war is next to bein' a man o' war yourself. Not but what -I'd be proud to sarve 'ee, Master Harry; no man more; but -them as take the sword shall fall by the sword, as the -Book says, and I take that for a warnen to have none -on 't."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A lame argument, Sherry."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"True, sir, haven no larnen I feel it so. And will 'ee -go shoulder to shoulder with our English sojers?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a note of anxiety in his voice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That I can't say. I hope that my regiment won't be -left out in the cold."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, sir, there's a providence in't. Them above -knows what they're about, to be sure, in a general way, -and I bean't agwine to set up for knowen better. I'll -sarve 'ee, sir, polish your breastplate, currycomb your -horse, oil your boots, clean your pistols, keep an eye on -the sutlers, and——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You seem to have a good notion of your new duties," -said Harry, laughing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Pretty good, sir, for a man o' peace," said Sherebiah -imperturbably. "And when do 'ee mount your horse as a -sojer, Master Harry?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Zoon," put in Grootz. "General van Santen himself -will introduce him to his broder officers; he tell me zo."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, so. Well, 'tis a world o' changes. For you, sir, -'tis a change for the better, barren 'ee bean't killed; for -me,—well, the truth on't is, I fear 'tis the beginnen o' the -end for Sherebiah Stand-up-and-Bless."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="concerning-sherebiah"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XIII</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">Concerning Sherebiah</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="small">A Summons—Coy's Horse—Vain Search—A -Clue—Sentenced—Confession—A Quiet Mind—A Friend -in Camp—The Informer—Intercession—Who Goes -There?—Hit—The Mantle of Night—In a Ditch</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>One evening, a few days after he had received news of his -commission, Harry returned home somewhat later than -usual from his customary stroll. He was fond of walking -through the pleasant woods to Scheveningen, and watching -the herring-boats as they sailed out for the night's -work. He would chat with the fishermen, and had indeed -by his frank manner, and perhaps an occasional gift of -tobacco, established himself as a favourite with them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On this evening, feeling a little tired, he threw himself -into a chair in the parlour, and sat musing, gazing into the -glowing sky as the sun went down. By and by old Gretel -entered and began to lay the supper. She had gone in -and out two or three times in silence before Harry -bethought himself and said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, Gretel, how is it Sherry is not helping you to-night?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"By den donder, Mynheer, you may well ask! He -seems bewitched since the great news. Not half so helpful -to my poor old bones as he was."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But where is he?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He has not returned yet."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Returned from where?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, Mynheer, he went out at once after receiving -your message, and——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My message!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ja, Mynheer, the message sent by the boy."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What boy? Come, Gretel, I sent no message. I -know nothing about a boy. Tell me all you know."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It was about four o'clock, Mynheer, a boy of twelve or -so came to the door—a stranger to me. He asked for -Sherry Minshull—no mynheer to his tongue. I called to -Sherry, and heard the boy say, 'Mynheer Rochester wishes -you to come——' then the big bell of the Groote Kerk -tolled, and I heard no more. But Sherry reached down -his hat and said he was going to you, and he and the -boy went away together."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Harry was puzzled, and a little uneasy. He rose from -his chair.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Are you sure you heard the boy mention my name?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Quite sure. And Sherry must have thought there was -need for haste, for he left his dish of coffee half full, and -he is too fond of mocha to do that without a reason."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Just then Mynheer Grootz came in to supper. When -Harry had informed him of the strange message and -Sherebiah's continued absence, he was at first disposed to -make light of the matter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Gretel is growing hard of hearing," he said. "Maybe -she mistook de name."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't you think, Mynheer, 'twould be well to make -enquiry before it is dark? I am strangely uneasy about -Sherry."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The merchant consented to accompany Harry into the -streets. Everybody knew him and answered his questions -readily enough; but none of the porters of the neighbouring -houses, or the watchmen who patrolled the streets, had -seen Sherebiah or the boy, though some of them owned -that they knew the former well by sight. By and by, -however, they came upon an old soldier smoking his evening -pipe outside his cottage—the lodge to one of the larger -houses in Gedempte Spui. Grootz put the usual question.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Did you see an Englishman—stout, with a beard, and -his hat on one side, pass by a few hours ago with a boy of -twelve or thereabouts?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The soldier removed his long pipe, spat, and appeared to -meditate before replying.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes—now I think of it; I believe I did see a man of -that cut, though I would not be sure. He might not have -been an Englishman. He was stout, certainly, and had a -beard; as for his hat, I didn't notice it, for the truth is, I -had been looking at some other Englishmen, a party of -Coy's Horse; my old corps served side by side with them in -'97. Yes, and there was a man among them I knew too; -a paymaster—Robins, I mind, was his name—donder! what -a temper he had! It was a curse and a blow with -him. Ay, it is a hard life, the soldier's. They halted at -the inn over by there, and I was just going over to drink -a glass with them for old times' sake when the Baron's -coach came up and I had to open the gates. A lodge-keeper, -see you, is a sentry with no change of guard."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ja, ja! But the Englishman and the boy—which way -did they go?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Which way? Let me see. They might have gone -down the road: no, now I bethink me, I believe they went -up the road; but there, I can't be sure. The sight of the -English horse, men I fought side by side with in '97, before -I got my wound——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ja, ja! Thank you!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They escaped his further reminiscences by walking on, -past the inn, past a row of cottages with the inevitable -bright green shutters, until they came to the watch-house -at the cross-roads. Grootz put the same question to the -watchman.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," he replied. "I saw no Englishman with a boy. -But I saw a party of English horse; they had come in -from Rotterdam, and I heard afterwards at the inn they -were on the track of a deserter."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was now almost dark; to continue the search further -would be vain. They returned home to their belated supper, -Grootz promising to set exhaustive enquiries on foot in the -morning.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>That night, for the first time for many months, Harry -was unable to sleep. He was oppressed by perplexity and -uneasiness. From whatever point of view he looked at -Sherebiah's disappearance it seemed equally inexplicable. -He could divine no motive for a message sent to Sherebiah -in his name; the man appeared to be on very good terms -with Dutchmen and was unlikely to have private enemies. -Harry was almost forced to the conclusion that Gretel had -been mistaken, after all, and that Sherebiah would by and -by return with a simple explanation of his absence. He -might have met a friend, and be spending a convivial -evening with him. Perhaps—the thought came like an -illumination—one of the English troopers from Rotterdam -was a friend of his—a Wiltshire man, possibly. The -suggestion allayed his uneasiness, and he fell asleep half -expecting to be called by Sherebiah as usual next morning.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Sherebiah did not return that night. It happened -next day that Mynheer Grootz was early summoned to a -conference with a committee of the States General, and -when after a prolonged discussion he was released he had -to start at once for Leyden on important business. It was -late before he returned. Harry meanwhile had lost no -time in pursuing enquiries in every likely quarter, but in -vain. Sherebiah had not returned; nothing had been -heard of him; and there was nothing for it but to wait -yet another day.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was again wakeful, and his thoughts turned to the -errand on which the party of English horse had come. He -pitied the unfortunate wretch for whom they were in -search—some poor fellow, perhaps, who had escaped in -the hope that he would be less easily tracked in a foreign -land. The punishment for desertion had become much more -stringent and summary of late owing to the prevalence of -the offence. Harry himself remembered one bleak morning -in London when, having gone early into Hyde Park, he -had been the unwilling spectator of the shooting of a -deserter. Had they caught the man? he wondered. "I -hope——" he thought, then suddenly a strange suspicion -flashed upon him. Surely it was impossible; yet—— In a -moment slumbering recollections awoke. He remembered -that many times, when approaching English soldiers in -London, Sherebiah had sidled away and disappeared. He -remembered how, more than once, Sherry had shown a -knowledge of military matters singularly intimate for a -civilian; how insistently he had always proclaimed himself -a man of peace; how hardily he had behaved in the fight -at Lindendaal. These facts, and many a slight hint -scarcely regarded before, combined to convert a chance -surmise, almost dismissed as absurd, into a strong -presumption little short of certainty.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He sprang out of bed, dressed quickly, ran downstairs -with his slippers in his hands, and, noiselessly drawing the -bolts, hurried along the silent street towards the inn on the -Rotterdam Road at which the patrol had halted. Though -it was late, the people of the inn were still up. He asked -for the landlord, and had not conversed with him for more -than a minute before he was convinced, from what was -said of the prisoner, that it was indeed Sherebiah. The -troopers had brought with them a led horse; on this they -had mounted the deserter, strapping him on each side to -a dragoon, and then ridden off at once towards Rotterdam, -</span><em class="italics">en route</em><span> for Breda. Returning to the house, Harry woke -Mynheer Grootz, told him of what he had learnt, and -proposed to start at once for Breda to allay or confirm his -suspicion. From this the merchant dissuaded him. A -night ride would be attended with difficulty and danger; -if he started early in the morning, he might still overtake -the dragoons before they reached Breda. Accordingly he -went back to bed for a few hours. At dawn he rose, -and by five o'clock was galloping towards Rotterdam on -the best horse in Grootz's stables.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At Rotterdam he learnt that a body of English horse, -consisting of units of several regiments, had left for Breda -on the previous afternoon. Waiting for an hour to rest -and bait his horse he pushed on to Breda, arriving there -about one o'clock in the afternoon. Without delay he -sought out the officer to whom he had delivered his convoy -of provisions a few weeks before, and enquired whether he -knew of the arrest of an English deserter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, and a notorious character, it appears. 'Twas not -merely desertion they had against him, but mutiny, and -a murderous attack on an officer. He fought like a cat -when he was arrested; 'twas a foolish trick, for they were -ten to one, and in a little he was overpowered. He was -tried by court-martial this morning at nine, and the trial -was short."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Was sentence pronounced?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Of course; he had no defence; he was sentenced to be shot."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There is no appeal?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"None. The sentence will be laid before my lord -Marlborough for confirmation; a matter of form. But pray -why do you take so much interest in the man?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He is my servant, comes from my village, has done -me right faithful service. Good God! to think that he -should come to this end!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The officer shrugged.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Unhappy chance indeed. 'Tis seven years or more -since he deserted; doubtless he felt secure. I am sorry -for you. He'll get no more than he deserves."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Could I see him?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Certainly; he is confined in the town-house; I will -take you to him myself."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In a few minutes Harry was ushered into a dark room -in the basement of the town-house. A candle was lit; he -was left alone with the prisoner, and the door was locked -behind him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, Sherry, my poor fellow, who would have thought -you would come to this!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Master Harry, 'tis good of 'ee to come and see me. -Ay; poor feller! you med well say so; but to tell 'ee the -truth, 'tis a load off my back."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, I understand. I know now why you always -scouted the soldiers in London. Why didn't you tell me? -I would never have brought you to this country, with our -soldiers here, there, and everywhere."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Tell 'ee! Not me. Why, you and me would 'a had -to part company that minute. Besides, 'twarn't zackly a -thing to be proud on, look at it how 'ee will. 'Twas -ill-luck I were nabbed, to be sure; but I've had nigh eight -year as a man o' peace, and I s'pose 'twas time the lid -were putt on the copper."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And they'll shoot you!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Bless 'ee, I bean't afeard o' that. I've been shot at; -ay, many's the time: at Sedgemoor, and Walcourt, and -other cities o' destruction. I can stand fire wi' any man. -Nay, the one thing as troubles me is how poor old feyther -o' mine'll take it. The poor ancient soul never dreams I -desarted; and zooks! 'tis that'll hurt un more'n my -bein' a corpse; his boy a desarter, and him a trooper of -old Noll's! Ay, that'll hurt un, 'twill so. And then -there's you, sir; how be I agwine to leave 'ee, wi' old -Squire and Rafe Aglionby a-seeken whom they may -devour, and no one you can trust to polish your breastplate -and oil your boots? Ay, the way o' transgressors -is hard; the wages o' sin is death; many's the time I've -yeard they holy words from the lips of pa'son your good -feyther, never thinken in my feeble mind he were aimen at me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Harry was at a loss for words. Sherebiah was so perfectly -resigned to his fate that any attempt at consolation -would seem an impertinence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How came you to desert?" he asked, to gain time.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, I'll tell 'ee about it. I was a corporal in Coy's -horse; med ha' been a sergeant long agoo, indeed. But -there was a paymaster o' that regiment, Robins by name; -a good sojer, true, but with his faults, like any other -mortal man. He was hot in his temper, and crooked in -his dealens. Us men was bein' cheated, right and left; -our pay was small enough, but we never got it: a penny -here and a ha'penny there bein' took off for this or that. -Ay, and he was a knowen one, he was. All done so soft -and quiet-like. We stood it a long time; at long last, -'twas more'n Minshull blood could stomach, and one -mornen I up and spoke out; you see, I warn't a man o' -peace then. Well, Robins bein' fiery by nature, he got -nettled; I should myself; but 'tis one thing to get nettled, -and another to use yer fist. Robins he used his fist, and -not bein' zackly meek as Moses, I used mine, and he -fell under. Two or three of my mates standen by saw it -all. Robins he raved and called on 'em to arrest me, but -they wouldn't. But 'twas all up wi' me; I knowed that -well enough; if Robins took a spite agen a man he med -as well be a dead dog. I had no mind to be a dead dog -just then, so I bolted; and that's how I come to be such -a man o' peace."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But surely if you explained that, your punishment -wouldn't be so heavy."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Explain! Bless 'ee, 'twould be no good in the world. -To strike a officer be mortal sin. Nay, I've nowt to say -for myself; I must just take my wages."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How did you manage to elude them so long?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh! the regiment was out o' my way: been quartered -this many year in Ireland. 'Twas just my bad luck that -they should ha' been sent for on this campaign. Ah, -well! a man can die but once; I've kep' the commandments, and -that's more'n Robins can say; and there's no commandment -'Thee shall let a man hit 'ee and say thank 'ee'. -I bean't afeard o' Them above, and I'll meet 'em with -head up and eye clear, like a English sojer."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"When is it to be?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They didn't tell me that. 'Twill not be long, you may -be sure. My lord Marlborough has only got to scribble -his name on the paper, and he'll never remember 'twas -me as held his horse at Salisbury in '88 and got nowt but -a smile.—Master Harry, belike I sha'n't see 'ee again in -this world. When you go home-along, you'll say a word o' -comfort to the old ancient gaffer, won't 'ee? Tell un all -the truth; tell un I be main sorry to vex his old gray -hairs,—though not for punchen Robins. Gi' him my dear -love: his boy, he calls me, poor soul: and say as how I -were quite easy in mind and not a bit afeard. He's a -trooper of old Noll's, you see."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll give him your messages," said Harry with a -gulp,—"if ever I get back alive."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay true, ye med not. The corn-dealen was a safer line -o' life.—What! time's up."—A sentry had thrown open the -door.—"Good-bye, Master Harry; God bless 'ee! and I -hope you'll get a man as'll polish your 'coutrements to -your mind. This time to-morrow, belike, I shall be a -true man o' peace."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Harry shook his hand in silence; he could not trust -himself to speak. He was angry at what he thought the -essential injustice of the sentence. Sherebiah had only -struck the paymaster in self-defence, and in the original -cause of dissension had right on his side. But Harry -knew what military discipline meant; it was rigid as iron. -Still, he could not help asking himself whether even now -it was impossible to get the whole circumstances -considered and the sentence revised. He thought of making -a personal appeal to Marlborough, but soon dismissed -the idea, for Marlborough had doubtless forgotten him, -and he had no force of persuasion to bring to bear. -Suddenly, as he walked slowly along the street, he -remembered Godfrey Fanshawe; he was an officer in a -companion regiment, Schomberg's Horse; he would ask -his advice. He enquired for the quarters of the regiment, -found that it was encamped a short distance out on the -Tilburg road, and hastened thither with an anxious heart.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The troops were under canvas, and Harry found Fanshawe -joint occupant of a tent with a fellow subaltern.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hullo!" he cried when he saw Harry. "I wondered -when I should run up against you. I have heard all about -your feat—rescuing beauty and all that. What in the -world brought you to this country?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Twould be long in the telling. You shall know all -in season. I am here on a very special errand. You -remember Sherry Minshull?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"As well as I do you. Many's the trout we've caught -together. A right good fellow!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"At this moment he is lying under sentence of death in -the town-house at Breda. Unknown to me, he had been -a soldier, and deserted after thrashing an officer——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"D'ye know him, then?" interposed the other lieutenant.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He is my man."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh! Sorry for you both. I had heard about it from -an officer of Coy's—Cadogan's, I should say; their name's -changed."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you know, sir, how he came to be smoked?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Twas an Englishman peached—a soldier of fortune, -as it appears, who wished to be nameless. He met the -men of Cadogan's when they landed at Rotterdam, and -arranged a trick by which they got him alone on the open -road. 'Twas rather cleverly managed."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And a dirty mean thing to do," said Fanshawe warmly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Can't something be done for him?" asked Harry.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Tis hopeless," was Lieutenant Tettefall's reply. -"Robins was very vindictive; he painted the man in the -blackest colours in his evidence before the court-martial, -and not one of the officers of the court knew your man. -He has a double offence to answer for; 'tis certain he'll -be shot as soon as the forms are completed."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Harry's face was then the picture of blank despair.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"On my life, 'tis a thousand pities!" said Fanshawe. -"I fear there is not the ghost of a chance for him." His -face gloomed for a moment; then his high spirits asserted -themselves. "But come, Harry, 'tis no good taking on -about it; come and forget it over a bottle. I want to -hear your story."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, I'm in no humour for racketing. Would to God -I could do something for the poor fellow! Would the -colonel intercede if we asked him?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not he. He would laugh and crack a joke. If Sherry -were a Dutchman, now! The duke is very sweet to the -Hollanders at this time, and a word from one of the States -might turn him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"General van Santen!" exclaimed Harry. "I had not -thought of him. 'Twas he I happened to be of use to, -and Sherry did his share too. Yes, 'twould be no harm -to try him. Do you know where he is?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"At Lillo," said Tettefall, "full thirty miles away."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll ride there. Fanshawe, can you lend me a horse? -Mine brought me from the Hague, forty miles and more, -and is done up."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll lend you mine. I'd like to save Sherry, but 'tis a -poor chance. Leave your horse; I'll send him and another -to meet you on the way back, in case you have to ride for it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Tis good of you. Do you know the road?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The easiest for you is by Bergen-op-Zoom. You are -less likely to be interrupted that way than by the Antwerp -road; our forces are camped at Calmpthout on that road, -and you might be delayed in passing through the lines, to -say nothing of falling in with the French beyond."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thanks and thanks again!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You'll have to ride hard," added Tettefall. "The -duke's at Thielen, twenty miles east of Lillo; and there's -no time to lose."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, I will start at once."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And good luck go with you!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Harry was soon riding at a smart pace along the road -to Bergen-op-Zoom, whence he made due south for Lillo, -reaching that small fortified place about seven o'clock in -the evening. To his intense disappointment he found that -General van Santen was at the British head-quarters at -Thielen. He had been absent all day, but was expected -to return before night. Had it not been so late Harry -would have started to meet him on the road, but he did -not care to risk missing him. He waited impatiently; the -general arrived soon after nine, and when he had heard -Harry's story he consented at once to write to -Marlborough, mentioning that the bearer of the letter had -earned some consideration by his excellent stratagem at -Lindendaal, where the condemned man also had done -good service. Armed with the letter, Harry set off at ten, -hoping to cover the twenty miles to Thielen before the duke -had retired to rest.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Before starting, General van Santen warned him that -parties of French horse were out observing the movements -of the confederate army. Finding that he was not familiar -with the road, the general sent one of his own orderlies -with him, warmly wishing him success.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The two riders struck across the fields and by narrow -bridle paths almost due east, and passing through one or -two ruined villages—among them Eckeren, the scene of -the Dutch defeat on June 30th—came to the site of the -French camp, vacated and burnt on the approach of -Marlborough some ten days before. The air was murky, the -sky dark, and Harry was glad of his companion. He was -oppressed by the louring prospect of Sherebiah's fate, and -the heaviness of the night was not apt to lighten his care. -They had ridden for about a third of the distance, and had -just left the highway for a cross-road that saved a mile, -when all at once, from behind a hedge, there came a sharp -challenge in French.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who goes there?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A friend," said Harry, and, pulling up, walked his -horse slowly forward.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Halt, and give the countersign!" said the voice -peremptorily, and dimly, a few yards before him, Harry saw -a horseman come into the road.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now for a dash; keep close!" whispered Harry to the -orderly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Setting spurs to his horse, he rode straight at the piquet, -hoping that when the inevitable shot was fired it would -miss him in the darkness. As the horse sprang forward -there was a report and a blinding flash, and a choking sob -behind. Harry closed with the Frenchman. There was -no time to draw his sword, and he did not wish to raise -a further alarm by discharging his pistols. Forcing his -horse against the flank of the enemy's, he struck the man -with all the weight of his fist, and, taking him by surprise, -knocked him from his saddle. He turned to look for his -companion; he was prone on the ground, and his startled -steed had taken flight. Dismounting in haste, Harry -found in a moment that the man was dead, killed by the -shot intended for himself. At the same instant he heard -a sound of hoofs from behind on his right. Springing on -to his horse he set him at the gallop across a flat grassy -plain, bearing, as nearly as he could judge, due east. -Suddenly he heard the thud of more hoofs, still on his -right, but this time in front of him. Evidently he was -being headed off by another party approaching from the -south-east. He swerved to the left, intending to make -a detour; as he did so, there was the report of a carbine -from behind a hedge a few yards away. He felt his horse -quiver, but it galloped on, the man who had fired -plunging through the hedge in hot pursuit.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Harry's nerves were now at high tension. It was clear -that he had stumbled upon a piquet or patrol, or even a -more numerous party of the enemy, and the odds were -in favour of his meeting the same fate as the poor fellow -his guide. Unhappily his horse was beginning to flag. -Bending forward to encourage it, and patting its neck, -he felt that his hand was covered with blood. The horse -had been struck. Harry remembered how it had quivered. -The wound accounted for its laboured breathing; it was a -good horse, and, not having as yet been seriously pressed, -could have held its own with those of the troopers behind. -But it was plain to Harry that, with the horse severely -wounded, the race must now be short, and the result -inevitable. The distance between himself and his pursuers -was already lessening; a glance behind showed him four -dark figures close upon his heels; a few seconds would -decide his fate.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At the moment of danger, some men lose their heads, -others are braced to the quickest exercise of their faculties. -Harry, fortunately for himself, was of the latter class. He -saw that to ride on must mean speedy capture; the only -chance of escape was to dismount and slip away on foot. -But the country here was quite open, he would instantly -be seen. He peered anxiously ahead; yes, there, against -the indigo sky, was a dense mass of black; it was a -plantation of some kind; could he but gain that, there was a -bare possibility. He dug his spurs into his panting steed, -with pity for the poor wounded beast carrying him so -gallantly; but he dared not spare it; apart from his own -fate, another life hung in the balance. A brief effort was -needed; the horse nobly responded, and by the time it -reached the edge of the wood had slightly increased the -gap between pursuer and pursued. Pulling up suddenly, -Harry sprang from the saddle, struck the trembling animal -with his scabbard, and as he slipped among the trees heard -it dash forward.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Being wounded, Harry argued, the horse would certainly -slacken its pace when no longer urged by the voice and -spur of its rider, and must soon be overtaken. The enemy -would immediately guess his device, and if the wood should -be of no great extent, they would probably surround it, wait -till morning, and capture him at their leisure. He waited -breathlessly for the coming of the enemy; he saw them -sweep past, bending low in their saddles, two men abreast, -like phantom horsemen, so quietly did they ride on the -turf. His heart gave a jump when he estimated them as -at least half a troop. When they were past he left the -wood, and ran across the open plain at right angles to his -previous line of flight.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As he expected, his manoeuvre was soon discovered. -He heard the Frenchmen call to one another; then the -thud of returning hoofs on his right, and in a few minutes -he saw several dark forms approaching. They were -spreading out fanwise. Only the men at the right of the -line were directly approaching him at a trot, searching the -ground as they rode. The sky was lightening behind them; -the moon was rising; fortunately, Harry being on foot, the -pursuers could not see him so clearly as he saw them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In a moment he perceived that it was a race between -him and the man at the end of the line. If he could get -beyond the point at which the trooper's present line of -march would intersect his own path, he had a reasonable -chance of safety. To his dismay he noticed that the man -was edging still farther from his comrades, as though -suspecting that he was not taking a sufficiently wide sweep. -Harry was now panting with his exertions, and in a bath -of sweat; he could run no faster over the heavy ground; -he felt that the game was up, wondering indeed that the -"view halloo!" had not already been given. Plunging -blindly, despairingly, on, he was almost at his last gasp -when he suddenly fell headlong. He had stumbled into an -irrigation ditch. It was overgrown with weeds; in the -stress of war the culture of the fields had been neglected; -the bottom was dry. The weeds grew high on either side; -Harry scrambled on hands and knees into the rank vegetation, -and lay still, his flanks heaving, his breath coming -and going in quick pants which he felt must be audible -yards away.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For some seconds he heard nothing but his deep breathing -and the thumping of his heart; then the beat beat of -hoofs drawing nearer. A horseman passed within a few -yards of him, luckily on the right. Another few seconds, -and the Frenchman ejaculated an angry "Nom d'un -tonnerre!" as his horse struck the ditch and stumbled. He -called to his left-hand man, and Harry, cautiously peering -through the enveloping weeds, saw him alight and begin -to examine the ditch. But he moved away from the fugitive. -As soon as he was at a safe distance, Harry, who had -by this time recovered his breath, crept out and stealthily -crawled along the watercourse on hands and knees. For -some minutes he continued this arduous progress, rejoicing -to hear the men's voices receding moment by moment. -Then, judging it safe, he rose and broke into a trot, left -the ditch by and by, and continued to pound over fields and -paths, through hedges and over ditches, for what seemed -to him miles. Then he stopped. All sounds had now -ceased save the chirp of crickets, the raucous cry of the -corn-crake, and the croak of frogs. He had lost his way; -he knew not whether he was near a highway; he was dead -tired, his knees trembling under him. But he remembered -Sherebiah spending his lonely vigil in the town-house of -Breda, waiting for the dawn of his last day, and he set -his lips and breathed a vow that the faithful fellow should -not die if the last ounce of energy would save him.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="harry-rides-for-a-life"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XIV</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">Harry Rides for a Life</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="small">The Hour before Dawn—A Trivial -Interruption—Recollections—Another Memorandum—The -Road to Breda—The Town Clock—Seven Minutes—Against -Time—Orange Wins</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Years afterwards, when Harry was a father and a -grandfather, and the children came about his knees clamouring -for a story, nothing held them more entranced, nothing -caused them such delicious creepiness, as his account of -the hours that followed his escape from the French.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There was I," he would say, "in the dead of night, a -white mist rising from the fields, growing thicker moment -by moment—and I knew not where I was, knew not but -an unlucky step might bring me again among the enemy. -My knees were trembling under me; my mouth was -parched; my breast like to burst with the striving of -my breath; I was ready to drop and sleep as I fell. But -the thought of my faithful servant in that prison; of his -being led out and blindfolded, and standing up helpless -to be the mark of bullets; of his poor old father that doted -on him—ah! my boys, those thoughts were like a goad to -me; 'twas as if I was urged on by some unseen power.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I could not now see the stars, so thick was the mist. -I could not choose my way. I could but go forward at a -venture, praying that my steps might be directed aright. -I staggered into slimy ditches; forced my way through -quickset hedges, waded weedy streams; once I came full -upon a river that I must needs swim. There was never -a cottage light to guide me, for though I crossed many a -field of corn and flax, many a broad space of pasture land, -I came nowhere near a house or farm, and durst not turn -aside, feeling as if some strange power bade me go on and -on. I know not for how many hours I struggled on thus, -taking no count of time; nor did I feel conscious of my -great fatigue, but moved on as though I was a soul -without body.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It grew darker and darker. The night seemed to -press upon me, the mist was like cold clammy hands -seizing me to hold me back. Then all at once, going -blindly as I did, I well-nigh struck my head against a -low wall, and was immediately conscious of the smell of -tobacco. 'Twas like a breath of heaven to me, boys. I -cried aloud, and the echo of my voice seemed that of a -startled ghost. A rough voice answered me; I stood -still, my heart thumping against my ribs. Footsteps -drew near, and I saw the blessed light of a lantern, and -in a moment a man had me by the sleeve, and drew back -his hand with a cry, for my garments were cold and wet, -and the light was flashed in my face, and I saw a big -Dutch farmer, who took his pipe from his mouth and bade -me tell whence I had come and what was my business.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What I said I know not now, boys, but soon I was -wrapped in a cloak, lying upon hay in the bottom of a -jolting wain, and my new-found friend driving through -the dawn towards Thielen. I fell asleep, and when the -farmer's heavy hand stirred me, I was in Thielen, and all -around me were soldiers and horses and wagons; 'twas -the great duke's camp. The village clock was striking -four; the sky was already bright; the camp was astir, for -the duke purposed that day to bridge the Nette.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What figure I cut you may imagine. Wet, cold, -dishevelled, my face and hands and clothes all bemired, I -crawled as best I might from the cart, and staggered to -the house where the duke was quartered. There was a -sentry at the door: when I said I wished to see the duke -he flouted me, laughed in my face, and was for turning -me away. But I was in no mood to be delayed. I took -from my tunic the sodden letter of General van Santen, -and showed it to the fellow, bidding him on peril of his -life to stay me. 'Twas enough: he called to a servant; -they talked together, eyeing me as though I were some -sorry cur: then the man roughly bade me follow him, and -within a little I stood in a small chamber, looking with -dazed eyes at the man seated at a table there: 'twas my -lord Marlborough himself."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"A letter from General van Santen, my lord."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marlborough looked up as the servant spoke, but did not -straighten himself from his bent position at the table, nor -remove his hands from the pair of compasses that were -stretched on the map there outspread. Several officers -were grouped about him; at a smaller table sat a gentleman -dealing with a mass of correspondence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. Cardonnel," said the duke briefly; then resumed -his discussion with the officers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The secretary turned sideways and took the letter. He -broke the seal, ran his eye hurriedly over the paper, then -laid it on the table.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It shall be looked to," he said, and bent again to his -writing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Harry stood for a moment; all his blood seemed to run -cold. Then, his whole body a-tingle, he stepped forward.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Pardon me, sir, the matter is most urgent; 'tis a case -of life or death. If you would be so good as to lay the -letter at once before my lord——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Cardonnel turned and stared with a sort of -scornful wonder at the dishevelled, bedraggled object who -addressed him in an English and a cultivated accent.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Tis too late. My lord's despatch left last night; the -man will be shot in a few hours; the matter must e'en -take its course."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sir, may I beg of you——" Harry's voice, unknown -to himself, was raised to a tone of passionate entreaty. -"My lord——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What is it, Mr. Cardonnel?" asked Marlborough.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"General van Santen, my lord, asks the pardon of the -deserter Minshull, sentenced by court-martial to be shot. -'Tis too late."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Write and tell the general so, and be done with it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My lord," broke in Harry, "do but read the general's -letter. I have rid and run all night to deliver it; the -execution will not yet have taken place, and I know -well——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who are you, sir?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The duke looked puzzled at the discrepancy between -the tone of voice and the disreputable appearance of the -youth before him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My name is Rochester, my lord, the letter—I entreat -your lordship to read it—will tell the rest."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marlborough signed to the secretary, received the letter -from his hand, and read it quickly. It was not long, and -the last paragraph read as follows:—</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"Perchance, my lord, you may feel that the man's gallantry -in the affair at the Comtesse de Vaudrey's may be set against -his offence, which though heinous was not unprovoked and is -now some years old. If your lordship can reconcile it with the -demands of discipline to pardon this unfortunate man, you will -I trust find that your clemency is not ill-bestowed."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Marlborough fixed his eyes upon Harry. "I understand -from this letter that the man is your servant?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He spoke in the low pleasant tone that never varied, -whether he addressed peer or peasant.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, my lord, a very true and faithful servant."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And your name is Rochester? Have I not met you before?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, my lord, well-nigh a year ago."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"At my lord Godolphin's."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"At my lord Godolphin's?" A slight ruffle marked his -broad white brow. He looked keenly at Harry. All at -once his expression changed. "I remember. I had clean -forgotten it. You are the young fellow who intervened in -my lord's roadside adventure? Ah! and now I bethink -me, 'twas your man that did the shouting. The same man?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, my lord."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That is enough.—Mr. Cardonnel, make out at once an -order pardoning the man—what is his name?—and -discharging him from the army.—The man whose lungs -saved the Lord Treasurer has decidedly a claim to -indulgence. But I fear, Mr. Rochester, you are late. These -little matters are usually determined by eight o'clock in the -morning. It is near five: 'twill be some little time before -I can despatch an orderly, and there are fifty odd miles -to ride."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"With your leave, my lord, I will go myself."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So be it. Mr. Cardonnel will give you the pardon -and discharge. It rests with you. I hope you will be in -time. Don't spare your horses."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I thank you, my lord, from the bottom of my heart."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There, no more: get to horse. Yet one moment: did -I not—I seem to remember it—did I not promise to do -something for you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Twas not a promise, my lord."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marlborough smiled, and looked at the boy with approval.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But I intended it as such. I wrote your name, I -recollect; papers have a trick of losing themselves: I -should have done something for you but for sheer -forgetfulness.—Mr. Cardonnel, will you please make a note? -Mr.—your full name, sir!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Henry Winterborne Rochester."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. Henry Winterborne Rochester for an ensigncy.—I -had heard of the ruse at the Comtesse de Vaudrey's: -naturally I did not connect it with you. You are with -Grootz the contractor, I believe?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I was, my lord, but I have just been commissioned -cornet in the Anspach dragoons."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marlborough and the group of officers laughed outright.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Begad, my lord, you're behind the fair," cried Colonel -Cadogan, a big burly Irishman of twenty-eight, -Marlborough's quartermaster-general.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, indeed, an angel has stirred the pool. But I am -delaying you, Mr. Rochester; you must ride hard. -Good-bye!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Harry had been itching to get away. Every moment -was of importance. Bowing himself out, he hurried to -the inn where Fanshawe had promised to stable a horse. -It was there ready saddled, in charge of a trooper of -Fanshawe's regiment, who said that Harry's own charger -Orange was awaiting him half-way to Breda. Harry -leapt to the saddle, flung a coin to the man, and in less -than two minutes was making his way at a sharp trot -among the press of villagers and soldiers thronging the -street. Clear of the village he went at a canter through -the camp, where all was bustle in preparation for the day's -march: then, gaining the free highroad, he set his steed -to the gallop. Some minutes later he heard a village -clock strike five.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Two hours after Harry started on his ride, Godfrey -Fanshawe left his tent in company with Lieutenant -Tettefall, and mounted his horse to ride into Breda. He had -passed a sleepless and anxious night, his mind haunted -by the impending fate of Sherebiah, with whom he had -spent many a pleasant day on the banks of the Avon, or -in the coverts of his father's estate. The execution had -been fixed for eight by the clock of the Hervormde Kerk -near the market-place, Marlborough's despatch -confirming the sentence having arrived late on the previous -evening. Fanshawe had seen the major in command, -explaining that Harry had gone to see the duke with a -view to a remission of the sentence. The major had -laughed at the idea, swearing that he would not delay the -execution a moment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Galloping into Breda, Fanshawe's first care was to -enquire whether Harry had arrived, or whether any -message had come from Marlborough countermanding the -execution. But nothing had been heard of the one or the -other. Fanshawe made a last appeal to the major, but -Robins had that officer's ear, and had convinced him that -the condemned prisoner was a rascal of whom the army -would be well rid.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At a quarter after seven the regiment was paraded and -marched to the castle park, where the execution was to -take place. Fanshawe meanwhile paced moodily up and -down, watching the inexorable clock. Suddenly, as he -looked at its face for the tenth time, he remembered a -legend of the Civil War, which his father had told him: -the story of a Royalist trooper who, condemned to die -at the ringing of the curfew, had been saved by the -heroism of his sweetheart, who climbed the belfry tower, -caught the clapper of the bell, and with her delicate hands -had prevented the fatal sound. His recollection suggested -an idea. There was still forty minutes to spare.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At the park gate a knot of idlers had gathered to see -the condemned man pass to his doom. Singling out from -among these a likely youth, Fanshawe held with him a -rapid conversation in whispers; and the two hurried away.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They went straight to the sacristan of the Hervormde -Kerk, whose cottage was known to the Dutch youth. By -the aid of this interpreter Fanshawe explained to the old -man that, being much interested in church clocks, he would -like to climb the tower and see the mechanism, at the same -time slipping a coin into the man's hand. The sacristan -was a feeble, tottering old fellow, and was persuaded -without difficulty to hand over the key of the tower, on the -promise of the English officer to return it within an hour. -Armed with the key, Fanshawe then hurried under the -boy's guidance to the chief clock-maker's in the town. -His shop was not yet open for business, but when he -learnt that a clock was in urgent need of attention he -agreed to send a young apprentice to oblige the -Englishman. At twenty minutes to eight Fanshawe with the -young clock-maker ascended the church tower. The boy -remained at the door.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The clock chimed the three-quarters.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Pray God Harry arrive in time!" was Fanshawe's -thought as he returned to the park gate.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The clock was too far off for any movement of the hands -to be noted. Had it been nearer, a close observer -comparing with his own watch might have seen that from this -time the long hand of the clock advanced one minute for -every two.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It still marked ten minutes to eight when Sherebiah, -with bound wrists, came up under guard. He smiled -serenely when, entering the park, he saw Fanshawe, -whose pale anxious looks betrayed his suffering.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't 'ee take on, now, Master Godfrey," he said. -"Let 'em aim well and ha' done wi't. Bless 'ee, I bean't -afeard. But, Master Godfrey, where be Master Harry? -To say good-bye, I mean."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He—he couldn't come, Sherry."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah! Well, 'tis no sight for a man o' peace, and he -ha'n't donned the breastplate yet. Gi' un my love and -respect, an 'ee please, sir; and axe un to remember the old -gaffer." Fanshawe gripped his hand, and he passed into -the park. "Nay, I won't ha' my eyes tied up," he said to -one of the firing squad who approached to bandage him. -"Must, must I? Well, I'm not one to go agen the law at -the last. Got a clean firelock, mate? Ah! there's the -bell a-dingen. Tell Robins—nay, I was gwine to forgive -un, but I won't; I'll leave that for Them above."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>By this time he was standing, with eyes bandaged, -against the wall. He ceased to speak; the last stroke of -eight had already sounded from several steeples; but the -clock of the Hervormde Kerk still wanted seven minutes -of the hour. Fanshawe's eyes were riveted on the hands; -the soldiers stood at ease, waiting.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Meanwhile, what of Harry?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The road through Turnhout to Breda passes through -a wide moorland region and crosses the river Merk. It -was a somewhat heavy road at the best, and the recent -passage of troops and baggage wagons had made it -rutty and uneven. Harry had started at a stiff gallop; his -horse was fresh, and seemed to catch the infection of his -eagerness. On he went, scarcely varying his pace, his -head low, his ears bent back for his rider's encouraging -words. At that hour the road was free; Harry met with -no obstruction. He dashed through Turnhout, crossed -the river to Hoogstraaten, and there found his own black -charger awaiting him. He was not quite half-way to Breda.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Orange, my beauty, you must go as you never went -before," he cried, as he set the animal at a gallop. The -horse pricked his ears in response. He galloped on for -mile after mile, scattering dust around him, getting many -a stare of wonderment from the peasants at work in the -fields. As the miles slipped by, Harry anxiously watched -his gallant steed. Great flakes of foam fell from the -animal's quivering lips; his nostrils were distended wide; -his white eye-sockets were rimmed with red; and still he -galloped, panting, striving nobly to respond to the -caressing pats and cheering words of his master.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Twenty minutes more, old fellow!" whispered Harry -in the beast's ear. "Twenty minutes; if you can only -hold out!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was nearing the end of his ride, but the poor horse -was in distress. Spots of blood crimsoned the white -foam; Harry fancied that he saw despair in the animal's -starting eyes; and when, still a mile on the wrong side of -Ginneken, he heard the little church clock strike eight, his -heart sank within him. He dared not press the horse -further; he might urge it to a short spurt, but the effort -would probably be its last; and he had still three miles -to go!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well done, Orange, my beauty!" he cried, patting its -ear. "Good horse! Near home now; a few minutes -more, old fellow, and then——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Thus he rode on, inspiriting words on his lips, black -despair at his elbow. He knew what military punctuality -meant; his ears were strained to catch the sharp rattle of -musketry. How far could a volley be heard? He could -not pause to speculate on the question; all he could hear -was the ringing of his flagging steed's hoofs.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was a mile from Breda. He saw the whole of the -little town before him, smoke rising from the chimneys; -he overtook a few carts slowly wending towards the -market, and heard the wondering exclamations of the -wagoners as his blood-flecked steed flashed by. His eyes -were straining towards the church tower; pray God the -Ginneken clock was fast! But he was too far away to see -the hands. On he rode; he came to the open gate; the -sentry challenged him, but he was gone before the man -had finished the phrase. Now he dug his spurs into the -horse's heaving flanks for a last spurt; he clattered -through the ill-paved street, shouting to the pedestrians -to make way; into the busy little market-place, cumbered -with the stalls of apple-women, poulterers, and other -purveyors. Boys scurried like rabbits out of his path; women -raised shrill cries as stalls were thrown down and apples -rolled wide; dogs barked and girls shrieked; but he was -past; the church clock said one minute to eight! Out -of the market-square, round the corner,—and there was -Tettefall, hastening to meet him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"To the park!" cried the lieutenant.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Harry shouted in the horse's ear. In half a minute he -was in at the park gate, and saw as in a mist the red -uniforms of the firing-party, the solitary figure of the -condemned man, and the officer in advance of the line with his -eyes on the clock.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Saved!" he cried, flinging the duke's order into the -air. In a moment he was off the horse, which sank a -trembling, heaving heap upon the ground.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Just in time—thank God!" gasped Harry, as he sat -with the horse's head between his knees.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And upon his dazed ear there fell the first chimes of the -beneficent clock, mingled with the loud curt tones of the -officer in command as he gave his squad the order to -march.</span></p> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 85%" id="figure-107"> -<span id="the-stroke-of-eight"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="The Stroke of Eight" src="images/img-218.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">The Stroke of Eight</span></div> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-water-of-affliction"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XV</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">The Water of Affliction</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="small">The New Cornet—A Visit to Lindendaal—Fanshawe is -Presented—The Family Skeleton—Madame Protests—Mademoiselle -Insists—Mynheer is Mysterious—A Silent House—The -Law Allows It—Not in the Bond—In the Canal—Sherebiah -Owns Up</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>By his famous ride from Thielen to Breda Harry became -doubly a popular hero. Neither citizens nor soldiers, -Dutch or English, felt any particular concern with -Sherebiah; but Harry's feat, coming before the memory of his -former exploit at Lindendaal had died out, raised him to -a pitch of estimation that might well have made him vain, -but which in truth he found only embarrassing. Fanshawe, -on the other hand, whose ready device with the clock had, -as Harry was the first to acknowledge, really been the -means of saving Sherebiah, was regarded with cold -unfriendliness and even dislike by the townsfolk. To tamper -with the town clock they regarded as a monstrous and -unpardonable offence, and there was some talk of laying -a formal complaint before the Duke of Marlborough. The -proposal was warmly debated in the borough council, and -the burgomaster had to exercise all his tact to prevent the -hotter heads from carrying the day.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As for Sherebiah, he was a different man. By his formal -discharge from the army the cloud that had pressed upon -him for nearly nine years was dissolved; and now that he -had become by official licence, as it were, a man of peace -in good earnest, he developed, not merely an unexpected -lightness of spirits, but a surprising partiality for the -company of soldiers. Every leisure moment he now spent -in camp or barrack, retailing endless anecdotes of his -former experiences as a man of war, and basing on these -a right to criticise and instruct which younger men admitted -with humility, to the immense disgust and chagrin of Robins.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A few days after the incident, Harry's regiment marched -into quarters at Breda, and General van Santen himself paid -a flying visit to the town in order to introduce the new -cornet to his messmates. Harry was welcomed with open -arms, less through the general's sponsorship than through -the fame of his own exploits and the proof he had given of -courage and daring. One little fact also, which leaked -out in course of time, did much to consolidate Harry's -reputation as a thoroughly good fellow. He made it his -business to find out the relatives of the man who had been -killed during the night ride from Lillo. The poor fellow -had left a wife and six children, the eldest a boy of -sixteen—a slow, earnest, dogged youth who was overcome with -shyness when Harry, at the interview with his tearful mother, -asked to see him. Harry liked the look of the boy, and -offered to apprentice him to an armourer. The mother -gladly accepted; and Mynheer Grootz further undertook, -at Harry's persuasion, to provide employment for the -widow and those of her children who were of age to work. -This solicitude of Harry for the family of a man who after -all had only been killed by the fortune of war, and had -no claim upon him, made an impression on the officers of -his regiment; and though it was never mentioned in his -presence at mess, it doubtless accounted in large measure -for his popularity with officers and men.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For some weeks Harry was fully occupied in learning his -new duties, practising with sword and rapier, and -improving his knowledge of Dutch: Sherebiah's command of the -language was of course no longer a mystery. Schomberg's -Horse, to which Fanshawe belonged, being likewise -quartered outside Breda, Harry often had opportunities -of conversation with his friend. Naturally Fanshawe was -amazed to hear of the strange enmity of Mr. Berkeley, -and shrewdly guessed that the soldier of fortune who had -informed on Sherebiah was Captain Aglionby.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And mark my words," he said, "'twas another move -against you. Sherry seems to have been a sort of watchdog -to you; him out of the way, so much the less difficulty -in aiming at you. Though what cause the squire has to -wish you ill it passes my wit to divine."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And mine too. 'Tis a desperate revenge on me for -being my father's son."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Have a care, Harry. Having gone so far they will -not easily be baulked, and in these cut-and-thrust times -a blow in the dark, eh?—exit Harry Rochester."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll be on my guard, never fear; and I still have -Sherry."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Harry had not forgotten his friends at Lindendaal. He -rode over one free afternoon some three weeks after -joining his regiment, and found that the ladies had heard of -his promotion, and of his ride, from Mynheer Grootz. -Madame de Vaudrey was ecstatic in her congratulations, -and only deplored that his new coat was not more brilliant.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It suits you well, mon ami," she said, "but for myself -I should like better the red than the blue."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Indeed, Madame," replied Harry with a laugh, "I -hadn't given it a thought. There's one advantage in a dull -garb: it presents a less conspicuous mark to the enemy."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A point, Monsieur, to which also you had not given -a thought till this moment," said Adèle.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Harry laughed; then, changing the subject, he added: -"Have you heard or seen anything more of Monsieur de -Polignac and his friend?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nothing, Monsieur Harry," said the comtesse. "And -indeed we do not wish to. I only fear lest his silence -augurs no good for us. As for his friend, that odious -captain——prrrut!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Madame's indignation was too great for articulate -expression. The idea of Aglionby daring to pay his addresses -to her was too monstrous. As was her wont in this mood, -she prattled away about her late husband, Harry listening -sympathetically and wondering at the half-smile on Adèle's -face. When taking his leave, he said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"An old friend of mine, an English officer, is in camp at -Breda. May I bring him, Madame, to call on you one day?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I shall be charmed, mon cher ami."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Fanshawe speaks little French, I fear, but——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah bah!" interrupted the lady, "that matters nothing -at all. Adèle shall teach him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I shall be charmed, as Mamma says," said Adèle.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Harry smiled; nevertheless the suggestion set him -thinking as he rode back, and he felt a shade of -annoyance when Fanshawe, to whom he mentioned the -circumstance, laughed heartily and quoted:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Amo, amas, I love a lass'. Is she pretty, Harry? -By George! I like the notion."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The two rode out together in the following week; -Fanshawe made a good impression on Madame de Vaudrey, -and his stammering French and good-humoured laughter -at his own mistakes appeared to form a bond of union -between him and Adèle, for she was soon chatting and -smiling with a friendliness and freedom quite different -from her reserved attitude towards Harry. Fanshawe -talked and laughed gaily all the way back; Harry on -the contrary was decidedly glum; and when Sherebiah -came to him at night as usual for orders his master's -unaccustomed moodiness did not escape him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What med be the meanen o' this?" he muttered as he -went away.</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"'Yanker didee dudel down</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Dida dudel launter——'</span></div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>I must ride out-along to Lindendaal one o' these fine days, -and putt a question to Katrinka—ay sure."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>One afternoon in the second week of September Harry, -having finished his duties for the day, paid a visit by -himself to Madame de Vaudrey. He found the good lady in -tears, and Adèle with very pale cheeks and a suspicious -redness about her eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, Monsieur Harry!" cried the comtesse as he was -shown in, "how glad I am to see you! This is a moment -when I need a friend. Look at this letter from that odious -Monsieur de Polignac. My poor dear husband! I am -glad—it is horrible to say it—but yes, I am glad he did -not live to see this terrible day. Read it, cher ami."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Harry looked at the letter. It was a curt and formal -note from Polignac intimating that, failing compliance -with his suit, he was resolved to foreclose his mortgage -on the estate one month from the date of the letter, as the -terms of the deed provided. He still offered Mademoiselle -his hand and heart; did she accept him as a husband he -would immediately destroy the mortgage; he gave her a -week to decide.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The villain!" ejaculated Harry.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He is within his right, Monsieur," said Adèle.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Right! Legal right, yes; no doubt it is so; but who -but a villain would put the matter in this way!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What I do not understand," said Madame de Vaudrey, -"is his motive. If Adèle were a great heiress, I can -understand that he should press his suit; but she is not; this -poor little estate would not tempt an ambitious man; and -as for herself, she has shown her aversion so plainly——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I hate him!" cried the girl, with a vehemence that -surprised Harry, so unlike was it to her usual cold -self-contained air.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is wrong to hate," said her mother; "but the dear -girl has no liking for him, and how should a man desire for -a wife one to whom he is so indifferent?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Tell me," said Harry, "is the mortgage for a large sum?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Alas! yes, for several thousand guilders; that is for -the estate alone: the house is separately mortgaged, and -the mortgagee in that case is content to receive his -interest."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Have you no relatives who would advance the money?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not one. We are poor exiles, and have not, I believe, -one relative in the wide world."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Harry was greatly distressed. It was clear that Adèle -would never consent to marry Polignac, even if her mother -wished it; and there was no escape from the dilemma save -by raising the money.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Are you quite sure you are so fully in the man's -power?" he asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I know it too well. There is no flaw in the documents; -my dear husband's lawyer is a good man; we have no -way of escape."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Of course you have consulted him?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes; he can do nothing. It is law, he tells me; we -have no other property the sale of which might pay off the -mortgage; I have nothing but my jewels, the gifts of my -dear comte, and they would not bring one-tenth of the sum -we need. The income from the estate would enable us to -pay off the mortgage in ten years if we were given time."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A ray of light struck suddenly upon Harry.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Does Mynheer Grootz know?" he asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh no! Mynheer Grootz is indeed a friend, but he -could do nothing—nothing."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am not sure of that. I think he should be told. It -is a matter of business; he is a shrewd man of business; -he may be able to see a way out of the difficulty that we -are ignorant of; with your leave I will put the case to -him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, Monsieur Harry, I forbid it. I prefer that -Mynheer Grootz should not know. He has enough to do, -I am sure, without being troubled with a poor woman's -affairs. I do not say he has not a good heart; he has; -he knows how fond I am of rare tulips, and has so kindly -given me bulbs; but no, I could not seek other favours -from him, I could not indeed. Besides, the lawyer has -said, nothing can be done; Mynheer Grootz can do -nothing against the law."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"True, Madame; and yet—it is a chance; it can surely -do no harm——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You do not understand, Monsieur; it may do the very -greatest harm."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Harry was mystified, especially as he fancied he detected -the glimmer of a smile on Adèle's face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I do not understand——" he began.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mother cannot explain," said Adèle quietly. "I do -not agree with her; I think she is quite mistaken; -certainly Mynheer Grootz should be told."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Adèle, you are a child; one cannot expect you to -understand."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Maman chérie, do you think so? You are a goose, -petite Maman. Monsieur, believe me, it will be the very -best thing in the world to consult Mynheer Grootz."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Adèle!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It will, Mamma. It is a poor chance, I fear, but -ought we to neglect even the least? and you do not wish -me to marry Monsieur de Polignac?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mon Dieu, non! A thousand times no! The odious man!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then, Madame," said Harry, "I will venture to see -Mynheer Grootz as soon as I can,—or perhaps write to -him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Eh bien! it is against my will. I protest; I can do no -more. You will tell him I protested?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Certainly, I shall not forget. I will let you know -what he says; perhaps he will come himself. Madame, -have a good heart; why, if all else fails, there is my man -Sherry; you remember how he embraced the gentlemen?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Adèle laughed, but the comtesse was too much distressed -to see any humour in the situation. Harry was surprised -at the flutter into which his simple suggestion had thrown -her, and rode away feeling puzzled at the strange ways of -women.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was spared the necessity of writing to Mynheer -Grootz, for on reaching his quarters he learnt that the -merchant had called during the evening, and had left word -that he might be seen next afternoon after his business -with the commissary was concluded. He heard Harry's -story quietly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Leave it to me, Harry," he said, his little eyes twinkling. -"I will promise dis Monsieur de Polignac a little -surprise. He is a noble; zo I guess by de name. Dey -are all de same, dese nobles; and I promise Monsieur de -Polignac zall be made to know dat dis is Holland, not -France, and moreover dat one honest Dutchman is match -for a score of rascal French. Dis man dink he have only -a woman to deal wid; well, he zall be undeceive."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Will you see Madame de Vaudrey, then, or write to her?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, neider will I zee her, nor write to her. But you—you -will tell her by no means to answer dis Monsieur de -Polignac. He will foreclose in a month, you zay? Very -well. He zall meet wid a surprise. Now tell me one -ding. Madame la Comtesse—did she ask you to come to me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Quite the contrary, Mynheer; she did not wish it, I -did not understand why; the reasons she gave were -somewhat lame."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then for the first time in Harry's knowledge of the -Dutch merchant he saw him excited.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"By den donder!" he exclaimed, slapping his thigh. -Noting Harry's glance of astonishment he chuckled again, -adding: "I tell you dis; you alzo zall zee someding." He -wagged his forefinger knowingly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You have told me nothing," said Harry with a smile.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, dat is true. In good time. You do not yet know -me, Jan Grootz."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Harry gave Madame de Vaudrey the Dutchman's message, -and after that found only one opportunity of visiting -her for nearly a month. On that occasion she showed him -a final letter from Polignac, announcing that on a specified -day he would attend at the house to receive payment of -his mortgage, or, in default, possession of the property. -The comtesse had heard nothing from Grootz, and was -in great distress, refusing to be comforted when Harry -assured her that all would be well. On his return to -Breda he wrote to Grootz informing him of Polignac's -letter, and next day received a reply asking him to arrange -if possible to keep the day named free.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Early on the morning of that September day, Grootz -with Harry, Sherebiah, and two men with large bags -slung at their saddles, rode out from Breda to Lindendaal. -When the door was opened by old Jean, and they had -entered, Grootz bade him close it and slip one of the bolts -half-way into its socket. After a short conversation with -the servant he went into the reception-room, had the bags -laid on the table, threw himself into the biggest chair, and -calmly lit his pipe.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Madame abhors tobacco, Mynheer," Harry ventured to say.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Huh! Zo I now remember. It is a pity; I must put -out my pipe, even though she be not here."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She is gone from home, then? I fancied so by the -manner of your entering."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ja! At dis moment she and de juffrouw are, as I -suppose, fast asleep in Breda. Dey come dere last night."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh! And we receive Monsieur de Polignac?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Dat is zo; we receive Monsieur de Polignac."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Deprived of the solace of his pipe, Grootz settled himself -to sleep in his chair. An hour or more later he was -wakened by Harry.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Here they are, Mynheer!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Zo!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was up in a moment, and from the window saw -Polignac, accompanied by Aglionby and two sturdy -henchmen, walking up the drive towards the house.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Zooks!" exclaimed Sherebiah, "here be Rafe Aglionby -again. 'Twill be no cuddle this time if I lay hands on -him. No thanks to he I be not a dead corpse to-day."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sherebiah, it is my turn," said Grootz solemnly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Zackly, Mynheer, all fair and no favour."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The four men came to the door, and the bell gave forth -a resounding clang. All was silent within the house, and -Jean at Grootz's orders paid no heed to the appeal. -Again the bell sounded; again there was no response. -Then Aglionby with an oath began to hammer on the -door with his riding-whip. Even this noisy summons -being disregarded, after a moment's consultation Polignac -ordered one of his men to burst in the door. It yielded -easily to his force, and the four trooped in—to find -themselves confronted by Grootz, with Harry and Sherebiah -behind him. At the same moment six of the men about -the estate came quietly from behind the house and arranged -themselves in two parties on both sides of the entrance, -outside, and out of view from within. Jean had fulfilled -his instructions.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Polignac halted in some embarrassment when he saw -Grootz, and Aglionby looked far from comfortable at this -unexpected meeting with the two men he had injured.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Messieurs, I ask you," began Grootz in slow, halting -French, "what is the meaning of this forcible entry?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Pardon, Monsieur," replied Polignac, recovering his -sang-froid instantly. "I have not the pleasure. I came -to see Madame la Comtesse de Vaudrey."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Zo? And permit me to ask, what is your business -with Madame la Comtesse de Vaudrey?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Before I reply, permit me to ask by what right you -question me, and what you are doing here?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Decidedly, Monsieur. My name is Jan Grootz; I am -here by the power of attorney I hold from Madame de -Vaudrey. I beg you see it is in due form."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He exhibited a roll of parchment which Polignac glanced -at; he was patently annoyed; his mouth twitched towards -his left ear. Aglionby meanwhile had edged towards him, -evidently with the intention of whispering something; -but Sherebiah noted the movement and exclaimed:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Keep a still tongue, Rafe Aglionby, 'ee were best, I -tell 'ee."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You are aware, then, Monsieur," said Polignac, "that -I come according to due notice as required by law to -demand payment of a bond, or possession of this estate, -as provided in the deed?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes; I know it; what is the amount payable under -the bond?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Fourteen thousand guilders, Monsieur."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Grootz pointed through the open doorway of the -reception-room to the bags upon the table.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There is the money, Monsieur. You will please to -count it, and give me a quittance, and hand the bond to -me to be destroyed."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With disappointment and rage written upon his face, -Polignac proceeded to count the money with Aglionby's -assistance. It was a longish process, and neither of the -men felt quite at ease under the gaze of the onlookers. -At last it was finished; Polignac wrote a receipt, and gave -the cancelled bond to Grootz. Not a word was spoken -while these formalities were complied with. Harry noticed -that Sherebiah had placed himself between Aglionby and -the door.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Zo!" said Grootz. "Wait one minute, Monsieur." He -unrolled the deed, ran his eye over it, then looked up -and said with deliberate gravity: "Permit me to draw -your attention to the fact that the property named in this -document is the land belonging to the estate. It does not -include the house and its appurtenances. Wherefore it -appears, Monsieur, that you, with a band of ruffian -hirelings, have violently broken into the private house of a -lady who enjoys the protection of the Dutch flag. That -is, permit me to observe, Monsieur, a breach of the law, -and subjects you to a penalty—heavy, no doubt; I do not -know the law. But for the present, since the law moves -somewhat slowly, it would not surprise me if the servants -of Madame la Comtesse, who are devoted to their mistress, -should prefer to anticipate the sentence. They may -be disposed to do what every honest and indignant -Hollander would certainly do in the circumstances."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At a signal the half-dozen Dutch servants moved to the -door and blocked the entrance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Men," said Grootz to them, "these gentlemen, who -are not Hollanders, have broken into your mistress's -house. I do not give you any advice; but for myself I do -not think it would be a breach of the law if you should -throw these gentlemen into the canal yonder.—Do not be -alarmed, gentlemen; it is cold, I fear, and dirty, but as -honest Hollanders Madame de Vaudrey's servants will not -allow you to drown, for all their indignation."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Half-way through this speech Polignac and Aglionby -had both made to draw their swords; but the six -Hollanders seized upon them; in a trice they were -overpowered. Their two men looked on, trembling. Polignac, -white to the lips, held his peace; but Aglionby, after -wriggling vainly in the hands of his captors, turned his -head towards Sherebiah and cried:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Zounds, Sherry, you will not stand by and see your -own cousin so misused. 'Tis a vile plot. I have done -nothing; what are the ladies to me? what is Polignac to -me? Sherry, unhand these boors; I shall catch my death -of cold; Sherry, I say, blood is thicker than water——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay sure, but it bean't so cold."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Od rat you!" shouted the enraged captain as he was -hauled with Polignac out of the house. He kept up his -clamorous entreaties and oaths until the very moment -when, with a sounding splash, he was heaved into the -canal, and with spluttering breathlessness struck out with -Polignac for the other side. A moment's observation -sufficed to show the Hollanders that their victims could -swim; they watched the scene with Dutch stolidity, Grootz -placidly smoking his long-deferred pipe.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, 'tis the water of affliction, as the Book says," -remarked Sherebiah sententiously as he watched the -swimmers gain the farther bank, clamber up, and slink -away, Aglionby obviously pouring out the vials of his -wrath upon the miserable Frenchman. "'Tis the fust -time for many a day cold water have gone down Rafe's -throat, and mebbe he's changed his mind by now about -blood bein' thicker 'n this water."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I admire your strategy, Mynheer," said Harry to -Grootz.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Zo! We must send dis money to Polignac; his house -is near at hand. Dere is one ding to zay: de house is -mine, after all. I paid off de mortgage last week—let us -zay, for a friend. Dat is all dat Madame need know: -Grootz has paid de bonds—both bonds, house and land—for -a friend: a matter of business; you understand."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Very well, Mynheer; I will be diplomatic if she asks -for more information."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Harry was as much puzzled by Grootz's attitude as -he had been by the lady's.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So Captain Aglionby is your cousin?" he said to -Sherebiah later in the day.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, to be sure: old feyther's sister's son. A fine -loven feller for a coz, bean't he, sir?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He has got off too lightly, Sherry."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mebbe, but he'll come to his reckonen some day. You -mind seein' me trounce un the day arter I shouted for the -noble lord?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, and you would not tell me the reason."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nay, I was 'shamed for my blood. Folks thowt 'twas -Rafe as loosed John Simmons. 'Twarn't him; 'twas me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay. I knowed as the highway business were a trick o' -Rafe's, and I knowed as how Simmons would split on un. -Fat'll be in fire then, thinks I. Rafe'll go to hangman, -and poor old feyther o' mine'll die o' shame at such a -kicken end for his own sister's child. I couldn't stand -that, sir, so when Willum Nokes was a-snoren I took -down keys from the nail and had Simmons out in a twink."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But that doesn't explain why you fought the captain."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, but it do. Here was I, goen agen the law, diddlen -Sir Godfrey and other high justices, cheaten hangman and -all—and what for, I axe 'ee? 'Cos Minshull blood was -cussed wi' mixen wi' Aglionby's. Aglionby blood had got -to pay, someways, and so it did, to be sure, for I took a -half-pint or so out of Rafe that mornen."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="knaves-all-three"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XVI</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">Knaves all Three</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="small">Labour Lost—Elegant Extracts—Hard Hit—A New -Departure—Fishing—County Families—Sack</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Captain Aglionby sanded the paper he had just written -upon, and leant back in his chair with a sigh of -satisfaction. He heard the sound of footsteps on the stairs.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Here, Mynheer," said the voice of his landlord.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With an instinctive movement he covered the letter, and -turned on his chair, in time to see the door open and a -visitor enter. He stared for a moment in speechless amazement; -then, attempting clumsily to shove the letter entirely -out of sight beneath a plate containing the crumbs of a fish -pâté, he got up and said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, Mr. Berkeley; adzooks! 'tis the last man I -could have expected to see, the last man—though a -pleasant surprise, an uncommonly pleasant surprise."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Humph!" grunted the old man, with a glance round -the mean room. "I feared you would resent my too -abrupt entry. After what I had learnt in your letters about -your magnificent, expensive, modish apartment, I could -not suppose I was walking straight into your -parlour—h'm! study; h'm! bedroom and—pantry, h'm!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No apologies, my friend, I beg. You take me at -a disadvantage, having but just consumed my modest -repast——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Fish! My nose informs me. 'Tis the fortieth smell -that has offended my senses within a quarter of an hour. -'Twas somewhat difficult to discover your—mansion. You -are not, it appears, so well known at the Hague as you -give out; and when I named you at my inn, with your -address, I was advised to bring an escort. I came -alone——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah! Nicolas Berkeley knows how to take care of -himself—eh, Squire?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But had I known to what an ordeal, to what a series -of ordeals, my nostrils would be exposed, I doubt I could -not have plucked up the courage."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Twas ill done to come upon me so suddenly. The -smells—hang me, Squire, I have smelt worse when I was -the guest of the Czar of Muscovy. But had you given me -a week's, a day's notice, I would have made ready an -entertainment worthy of you, my old friend."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No doubt, no doubt——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And indeed I was on the point of writing you when -you entered."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, on the point of; you write to me twice a day, do -you? for unless I mistake, you have already writ once -to-day. Under the plate, Captain Aglionby—surely I see -writ on the paper there some semblance of my name."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Tis so; what eyes you have for your age, Squire! I was -just trying a new pen, and so full were my thoughts of my -generous friend and patron that the pen ran of its own accord, -mark you, into the familiar curves. And as I know how -you abhor a letter, I will e'en tear up the paper and——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Stay!" cried the old man, taking a sudden step forward; -"knowing the pains you take in writing, 'tis pity -they should be wasted. I set out designing to conduct -my son to the army: I find I am embarked on a voyage -of discovery; give me the paper."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The command was uttered in a tone that broke down -Aglionby's bravado. He drew the letter from below the -plate, and handed it in sullen silence to the squire. The -old man pressed his lips grimly together as he unfolded -the yet unsealed paper. Aglionby stuck out his legs wide -apart, thrust his hands into his breeches pockets, and -hung his head in moody dudgeon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Tis excellent pen-work; your hand grows fluent. '</span><em class="italics">I -thank you for the hundred guineas received</em><span>'"—Mr. Berkeley -read aloud with deliberation and a dry emphasis that made -Aglionby wince—"'</span><em class="italics">and trust the two hundred for which I -beseeched you in my last will not tarry.</em><span>' To pay your -landlord, I take it, for this—magnificent apartment."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A man must live," said the captain sullenly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, eat and drink, and sponge upon his betters for his -cakes and ale."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oons! Squire, 'tis rum."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A foul-smelling liquor.—What is this?—'</span><em class="italics">do violence to -natural affection in the service of a munificent -patron—inform on a cousin—Sherebiah Minshull condemned to be -shot—my lord Marlborough—young Mr. Rochester—rid up -in the nick of time.</em><span>'"—Mr. Berkeley's brow darkened as he -read.—"Let me come to the end of it. '</span><em class="italics">A visit to the -Comtesse de Vaudrey in the interest of my patron—violent -assault—in the mellay stumbled into a canal—costume totally -ruined and cannot be replaced under ten guineas</em><span>'—I -observe 'tis shrunk at the sleeve; I thought maybe you had -grown, to match your magnificent apartment! Now, sirrah, -how much of this precious epistle do you expect me to -believe? A fine story, in truth, of the ills you suffer in -your constant zeal for your 'munificent patron': is it all -of a piece with your 'magnificent apartment'? What have -you done with, and for, my hundred guineas?—what, -sirrah, your answer!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Aglionby felt that he was being wronged; he had, in -fact, done all in his power; it was not his fault that failure -had dogged him. Undoubtedly appearances were against -him, and the biting emphasis of the old man's delivery, the -cold sneer that lurked in every repetition of his pet phrases, -robbed him of speech. He writhed under the lash. Standing -over him, the squire gave rein to his temper.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You take me for a fool, do you, with your cock-and-bull -stories!—you flam me off, rat me! with your -'magnificent apartment', your 'munificent patron', your -'constant zeal', which I—I, you swashbuckling villain—am to -pay for! Where are the two hundred guineas paid to the -captain of the </span><em class="italics">Merry Maid</em><span>?—the fifty guineas to your -footpad friends in Wapping?—the hundred sent you but a -few weeks past? How has your zeal furthered my interest? -Zeal, forsooth! there's a many of your cut-throat gossips -would sink you as a disgrace to the craft, for at least they -hold to their bargains and are not swindlers as well as——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Fire and fury!" shouted Aglionby, springing to his -feet and drawing his sword. "'Tis not to be borne! Clap -a bridle on your canting tongue or I'll run your bloodless -carcass through!—as I've done with many a better man. -D'ye hear, you old Pharisee! Your white hairs under your -wig sha'n't preserve you if Rafe Aglionby is roused. And -where would you be, rot you—Squire Berkeley of Winton -Hall—you and your guineas—if I told what I know?"</span></p> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 83%" id="figure-108"> -<span id="fire-and-fury-shouted-aglionby"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt=""Fire and Fury!" shouted Aglionby" src="images/img-235.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">"Fire and Fury!" shouted Aglionby</span></div> -</div> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Berkeley had drawn at the same moment, and the -two stood glaring at each other over the chair. The old -man, his face livid with passion, was in nowise daunted by -the other's threats; Aglionby's cheeks were purple, and -the veins on his brow stood up like whipcord. For some -moments both stood tense, each leaning towards the -other; then the squire dropped his sword back into the -sheath, gulped, and said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, well, maybe I was hasty. But you have a great -deal to explain, Aglionby—a very great deal to explain."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"As I could have done, had you but given me time -instead of treating me as you would a common pickpocket. -By George! Mr. Berkeley, Rafe Aglionby is not the man -to stand that mode of dealing, as you well know, for all -the luck has been against me these late years. Who -could have supposed that young Rochester, sink him! would -escape from the </span><em class="italics">Merry Maid</em><span>? Was that my fault, -pray? By what I can make out he jumped overboard -off Gravesend and got aboard a Dutch brig, and the -rascally Hollander—one Grootz, a smug corn-dealer—refused -to give him up. Could I help that? Then, when -I had my snivelling cousin Sherebiah fast in the net, could -I prevent my lord Marlborough from signing his discharge -and undoing all my work? Could I? I've had the worst -of luck all through; and foul words won't mend matters. -And, beshrew me, you were not over successful yourself -with the cockerel's father, for all your guineas. The -youngster's a chip of the old block, and a precious hard -chip too, rot him! But I've vowed to carry the thing -through; besides your affair, I've now one or two private -accounts to square with him; and if you have patience -and a trifle more courtesy—by George! you'll have no -cause to complain of Rafe Aglionby."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The words came from him in a torrent. He felt that he -had a real grievance, and, as often with rogues, the -possession of a grievance lent him words if not eloquence. -But the squire still looking doubtful, Aglionby picked up -a stained copy of the </span><em class="italics">Amsterdam Courier</em><span> that lay on a -chair, and pointed to a paragraph giving in French an -account, somewhat distorted but substantially accurate, of -Harry's exploit on behalf of Sherebiah. As the old man -read it he pressed his thin lips together in vindictive rage.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There for you!" pursued the captain. "'Tis the talk -of the town. The youngster is making friends on all -sides; he owns a commission in the Dutch army——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Tis true; a booby general got him the commission, -and the lubber Grootz pays. 'Tis becoming more and -more difficult to get at him; but I have a scheme—a -pretty scheme, egad!—that can scarcely fail this time. -All I need is a small sum to go on with—rat me, Squire, -will you still sneer? On my soul, I——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Tut, Captain, your skin is surely thinner than it was."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And yours would be thin had ye not your guineas to -line it with. Hang me, Berkeley, a word from me——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come, come," said the squire quickly, "'tis not for -old friends to fall out. You were talking of your scheme."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I was saying that all I need is a small sum in -advance—the rest may wait till the thing is done."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And what is your scheme? You do not expect me—no -offence, Aglionby—to buy a pig in a poke this time."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Twere better, maybe——" Aglionby was beginning, but -just then a footstep was heard on the stairs. He evidently -recognized it. Hesitating for a second he lowered his voice -and continued hurriedly: "'Tis one of the men engaged -in the job. I will call on you later at your inn. 'Twould -be amiss were he to know you had any concern in it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Berkeley looked suspiciously at the captain, but, unable -to fathom his embarrassment, he picked up his hat and -slowly moved towards the door. It opened in his face, -and Polignac appeared. He stepped back courteously to -allow the older man to pass. They bowed to each other, -with a mutual glance of keen scrutiny. The squire bade -Aglionby good-day, refusing his attendance; and as he -passed down the stairs Polignac entered the room.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who is your visitor, captain?" he asked. "An English -milord, by his appearance."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes; a friend from England—an old friend of my -family: a neighbour: in fact, our estates join—or all but, -for 'tis but a narrow trout-stream divides 'em."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Aglionby's manner was still a little flurried. His mind -was not very quick, and took time to adjust itself. -Polignac threw his hat upon the table, sat astride of a -chair, and went on with admirable gravity:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And the fishing—it is often, without doubt, what we -Frenchmen call an apple of discord. I have known so -many disputes."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The fishing! oh!—yes!—well, that arranges itself. It -is quite simple: we take one day, he takes the next."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Tour à tour. Admirable! You English are the -people for transactions! I must make the acquaintance -of your so accommodating friend and neighbour. Is -he—how shall I say it?—one of us?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No. He takes no part in affairs. He cultivates his -estate. His call now is merely in way of friendship."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah! that is indeed amiable. Parbleu, he has the -look! And what is he doing in this country?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Aglionby was growing restive under the cross-examination. -He had the air of a witness who fears that he may -be enticed into an admission against his will. But he had -not the wit to fence with his visitor.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nothing," he replied curtly. "He comes with his -son, that is in the army, and now joins his regiment."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He has a son in the army? My dear friend, certainly -you shall present me. I desire of all things to extend my -acquaintance among your countrymen—in furtherance, it -is understood, of my cause—of our cause, pardon me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I fear you will find little encouragement with him. -He hates your countrymen as one hates a toad."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The amiable man!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Aglionby's constrained manner had betrayed him to his -astute visitor, whose curiosity was now effectually aroused.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then, my good captain," he continued, "it shall -be my pleasing task to convert him. Indeed, you must -present me. He shall be a recruit—a little aged, perhaps, -but what matters that? In truth, it is an advantage, if his -estates are as large as you say."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I did not say his estates were large."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But they march with your family's—is it not so? And -unless I deceive myself, the D'Aglionbys are—how do you -say it?—milords of the manor of half the comté of Viltshire. -You remark, my dear captain, what a memory I have, -even for your barbarous English geography."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The captain, more and more restive, fidgeted on his chair.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Parbleu, monsieur," he said doggedly, "you must -allow me to be the judge who among my friends is likely -to be of use to us. This one, I say, is not; you must be -content with that."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Polignac, seeing that nothing was to be gained by -pressing the matter in the captain's present mood, adroitly -changed the conversation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Eh bien! As you will, my good captain. You know -my zeal in the cause, and Tout fait nombre, as we say in -France. Now, my friend, how goes our affair—yours and -mine, I mean?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Aglionby's face cleared. He was now on surer ground.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Admirably, admirably, monsieur. Look you, I have -arranged with some six stout fellows—every one to be -depended on. Nothing remains but to choose the hour -and the place. And besides, I have set Simmons on the -watch: he comes here to report at five o'clock."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And it is now half-past two. If it pleases you, mon -brave,—there is time—we will have in a bottle of sack -and drink success to our enterprise."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If it pleases me! Parbleu, Polignac, I've drunk -nothing but rum since Berk——since the last remittance -from my agent was spent. A bottle of sack! Many I've -emptied with the Czar of Muscovy, whose head, mark you, -is not as strong as mine. Certainly, a bottle of sack—the -money, my friend?"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Some two hours later, Aglionby left the inn at which -Mr. Berkeley was putting up. His mood and mien were -jovial; his rubicund cheeks even more ruddy than usual. -He was too old and tough a campaigner, and too well -seasoned by his experiences in Russia, to allow himself to -be overtaken in liquor; but he was certainly in an unusually -buoyant humour, and trod the street with a confident -swing. As he passed along, he jingled the money in his -pocket, and appeared to take an uncommon pleasure in -the sound. His brow was clear, his eye bright, and he -held half-audible communion with his thoughts.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Tis a hard world, Rafe my boy; odso, 'tis a hard -world. 'Tis not often a man gets paid for doing what he -would gladly do for nothing. Ay, and 'tis less often he -gets paid twice, begad! Rafe, my bully boy, you're in -luck. Stap me, we'll break another bottle of sack and -drink to your success. Nay, nay; hold a little: business -before pleasure. A draft from our Hebrew friend—egad, -they're the one good thing I know in Amsterdam; that is -easily got; then a letter to the Elector's chamberlain; -oons! 'tis more difficult, but to be faced; I'm no scholard, -hang it, but I can pay some poor scrivener that is, whether -'tis to be Latin or French; and to be Captain Rafe once -more's worth a dollar or two for pen-work. Then for a -bottle at the Goudenhoof'd. And to-morrow, my friend -Rochester and my excellent coz with the scripture -name—to-morrow, by the lord Harry, our final reckoning!"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="in-the-dusk"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XVII</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">In the Dusk</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="small">Katrinka—Filial—Fine Feathers—A Practical Joke—Up a -Tree—A Trap—In Waiting—The Last Minute—A Bolt from -the Blue—Ad Misericordiam—A Theory—With Thanks</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Harry had for some time been itching for an opportunity -of active service in his new calling. Garrison life, with its -drilling and exercising, was all very well, and he had much -to learn; but the business of a soldier was to fight, and he -was eager to take his share in the campaign, on the issue -of which so many important interests depended. His -chance came at last, and though the result was too tame -for his active spirit, he felt that it was at least a beginning.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At the end of the first week in September his regiment -received orders to join a corps forming under General -Brulau to begin the investment of Limburg, a little -hill-town south-east of Breda. On the 10th the force of -twenty-four squadrons encamped before the town, cutting off all -access, and occupying the approaches and the lower town -without resistance. Some ten days later the Duke of -Marlborough arrived with his main force; batteries played -night and day on the upper town, and made so wide a -breach that orders were given for a grand assault. At -this point, however, the French commander, seeing the -futility of resistance and the hopelessness of relief from the -outside, beat a parley, and in less than twenty-four hours -agreed to surrender. On the 28th the garrison of 1400 -men laid down their arms and marched out. The duke, -having taken possession of the place, announced that the -campaign was closed, and the army would at once go into -winter quarters. Harry therefore returned to Breda -without having drawn his sword, and had to reconcile himself -to the thought of a long winter of inaction.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>One morning a messenger came to him from Mynheer -Grootz, bearing a present of tea and Japanese ware from -the merchant to Madame de Vaudrey, part of a cargo -from the east which had eluded the French warships and -privateers that scoured the narrow seas. Since the -incident of Polignac's discomfiture at Lindendaal, Grootz had -been assiduous in paying little attentions of this kind to -the ladies, and often sought Harry's aid in conveying his -presents. Harry was somewhat amused at this amiable -side of his former employer's character; Grootz was not -on the surface a likely squire of dames. No doubt, Harry -thought, he was anxious about the welfare of the ladies -in their solitary position, with no master of the house, but -only a number of faithful though not too intelligent -servants. He was nothing loth to be the medium through -whom these gifts reached Madame de Vaudrey, and he -found that Fanshawe was always very ready to accompany -him on these and other occasions.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It happened that on this day Harry was on duty, and -saw no opportunity of getting away until the evening. -Having been absent from Breda for nearly three weeks, -he was anxious to learn how things were at Lindendaal. -The proximity of Polignac always gave him some uneasiness, -and though that gentleman's hold on the ladies had -been effectually snapped, Harry felt by no means sure that -he would accept his rebuffs as final. He therefore sent for -Sherebiah, and ordered him to ride over with Mynheer -Grootz's parcel. Sherebiah's eagerness to set off amused -his master.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You want to see Katrinka—is that it?" he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, sir, her do have a good hand at griddle-cakes, -and I ha'n't tasted ne'er a one for three weeks."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Tis cupboard love, eh, Sherry?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The truth on't is, Master Harry, I be a-thinken o' old -gaffer at home. He's had a deal of trouble wi' maids and -housekeepers; can't get ne'er a one to cook his bacon -to his mind, and besides has a sweet tooth for -griddle-cakes. Katrinka be a rare buxom wench; not a beauty, -sure, though handsome is as handsome doos; and when -I found out her tidy ways and light hand wi' the -kickshawses—well, says I, she be the right maid to keep old -feyther o' mine above-ground for another ten year."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh! and have you put the matter to Katrinka?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There's the rub, sir. Her be in the main willen, but -there's a worm in th' apple. The truth on't is, sir, her -have high notions."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Indeed! She wants to be something better than a -nurse-cook, eh?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not zackly that, sir; her notions be husband high, -sir; her won't make griddle-cakes for feyther o' mine not -unless her be his darter, which is a backward way o' -sayen, marry me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's terrible, Sherry."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It med be wuss, Master Harry. I ha'n't no fears -myself, but 'tis old feyther I be thinken on. 'Ee see, I'm -his boy; though I be forty-five by nature, to his old aged -life I be but a younker yet; and I be afeard he'd think me -a forrard youth did I venture a word about marryen."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Harry laughed outright.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Take my advice, Sherry," he said. "If Katrinka's a -good girl, get the knot tied; we sha'n't be home again -for a year at least; you can break it gently to the old man, -and sing the praises of your wife in respect of bacon and -girdle-cakes and other housewifely virtues."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thank 'ee, sir; and 'ee won't mind if I be a bit late -back, 'cos 'twill take a good time to talk over all that wi' -Katrinka; her be terrible slow wi' her mind, sir."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"All right! Get along; and you may give her a kiss -from me. 'Tis the chubby one, isn't it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"True, sir; a apple face, wi' a dimple in the chin, and -eyes as blue as her chiney, and hair this side o' red, -and——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There, there. You're in a bad way, Sherry; go and -get it over, man."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Not long after Sherebiah's departure, Fanshawe came in.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What do you think?" shouted Harry. "That old -oddity Sherry is in love with Katrinka, one of the maids -at Lindendaal, but was afraid to pop the question lest his -father thought him too young. He has gone over to -Lindendaal to-day; I fancy 'twill be a settled thing by the -time he returns."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh!" Fanshawe appeared somewhat constrained. -"The fact is, Harry, I am riding to Lindendaal myself, -and I came to see—to ask—that is, have you any message -for the ladies?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No; as it happens, Sherry is taking them a parcel from -Mynheer Grootz.—You've got a new coat, surely?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay; you see my old one was faded; things bleach soon -in this country——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And a new hat, I declare!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The old one was too vexatious shabby. Then you -have no message?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No; Sherry conveys my regards. You'll have his company -back; I suppose you will be rather late, and 'twill be -no bad thing to have a companion; there have been one -or two robberies by night on the Helmund road."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Until the evening Harry was fully occupied. The -regimental riding-master had begged his assistance in -training a number of recruits, and, since example is better -than precept, he had been for several hours on -horseback, showing the Dutch youths the manage of their -steeds. When this was finished he had a turn at the -foils with the quarter-master, who had taken a fancy to -him, and was wont to declare him one of the best swordsmen -in the army. After his evening meal he felt he should -like to stretch his legs, and, guessing that Fanshawe and -Sherebiah would soon be on the way home, decided to -walk out and meet them. It was a fine still evening, the -road was dry, and a spin of a couple of miles, as far as a -big chestnut-tree that marked the limit of the Sunday -promenaders, would pleasantly end the day.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The sun was going down as he left the walls of Breda -behind him, throwing a long shadow on the road. He did -not hurry his pace, but ambled easily along, musing as a -walker will, and paying little heed to things around him. -His thoughts were bright and clear, for he was in the pink -of physical health, and he felt that Providence was very -good to him. It was just a year ago that his father had -died, and all the prospect looked black. How strangely -things had turned out! The very event that had seemed -to fling a pall over his life had really proved the entrance -to the career nearest to his heart. He was already -impatient for the winter to be over; surely with the next -spring the war would be prosecuted more vigorously, and -the Dutch authorities would not hang like a drag upon -the wheels of Marlborough's plans! He was ambitious, -as every young officer must be, to distinguish himself; -and in his ambition there was a spice of </span><em class="italics">amour propre</em><span>; -he felt that he should dearly like to prove to the great -duke himself that he would have done no discredit to his -sponsor if his commission had been an English one. But -a Dutch cornet, he thought, would have little chance of -coming under Marlborough's personal notice; and, after -all, what did it matter? Duty was duty, wherever and -for whomsoever it was done.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Thus weaving a chain of imaginings, he came to the -big solitary tree before he was aware of it. He halted; -Fanshawe and Sherebiah were not in sight; the dusk -was thickening, and he did not care to walk farther; yet, -having come so far, he was loth to go back without them. -Surely they could not be long now! Opposite the tree -there was a gate into a field. He climbed on to that, and -sat with his feet tucked below one of its bars, intending -to wait their arrival. From his higher position he now -descried two figures in the distance; in another moment -he saw that they were horsemen. "Here they are at -last!" he thought.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A whimsical idea flashed into his head. They would not -expect to see him; he felt sportive, the boyish instinct for -fun asserting itself. What if he could surprise the -two—dart out on them unawares and make them jump? The -tree opposite overhung the road for several yards, its -foliage was still fairly thick, for the season had been -mild; the autumn frosts and gales had not yet begun; -and it would provide ample shelter. He sprang off the -gate, ran across the road, leapt the ditch at the side, -scaled the trunk with an agility bred of long practice in -Wiltshire, and was soon hidden among the leaves, some -fourteen feet above the road. He filled his pocket with -burrs he found still clinging to the branches, laughing -inwardly as he pictured Fanshawe's consternation when he -should receive one of those prickly missiles on his head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Soon he heard the measured beat of the approaching -horses. Peering between the leaves, he was disappointed -to notice that the riders were not Fanshawe and Sherebiah -after all. One of them, a bulky man, had a familiar -appearance, the other was masked; but in the first Harry -recognized Captain Aglionby, and the second in figure -and bearing unmistakably recalled Monsieur de Polignac. -Harry wondered what was the meaning of the mask; -knowing his men, he had little doubt that some villainy -was afoot. His wonder gave way to uneasiness when -he found that, instead of passing the tree, they -dismounted and stood exactly beneath him. They opened -the gate on which he had been seated a few minutes -before, and led their horses through into the field, along -the stone dike at the edge, and at some distance from -the gate, as Harry could just see in the gathering -darkness, secured them to the wall, after some difficulty in -finding anything to hitch them to. Then they returned -to the road, talking in low tones, and looking expectantly -up and down.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Sdeath!" muttered Aglionby, "what has become of them?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Raté encore une fois?" sneered Polignac, inferring the -other's meaning from his tone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Parbleu!" growled Aglionby, adding in French: -"They ought to have been here a quarter of an hour -ago. They cannot be long now."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Harry's curiosity was growing. The two men were -clearly expecting somebody; for a moment he wondered -whether Aglionby was meditating another attempt on -Sherebiah, but it could hardly be that, for the captain -had looked towards Breda as he spoke, not in the other -direction. He listened with all his ears.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They may as well stay away altogether if the others -are here before them. We are only ten minutes ahead."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nearer twenty, if you believe me. They were riding -slowly when we saw them—a mile behind; and we saved -several minutes by the short cut through the wood. There -is time yet."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As he spoke, three figures could be dimly seen coming -along the road from the direction of Breda. Aglionby and -his friend at once shrank back behind the dike, but after a -moment's scrutiny, being apparently satisfied, came out -again and stood waiting by the side of the road. The -three men approaching caught sight of them and hastened -their steps, to be received with curses when they reached -the spot. One of the men, an Englishman, sullenly -defended himself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is all due to that confounded church clock. It has -never gone right since Mr. Fanshawe tampered with it. -But we are in time, Captain."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No thanks to you," growled Aglionby. "Where is -the rope?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>One of the other men opened a sack he carried, and -produced a stout rope some thirty feet long.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Take one end," said Aglionby, "and fix it to the -gatepost; at the top, fool, not the bottom. You, Simmons, -take the other end and loop it once round the tree. And -quickly, do you hear?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>While the men were obeying his order, Aglionby put on -a mask, not, as in Polignac's case, as a precaution against -recognition by the hirelings, but by the victims.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>By this time Harry's uneasiness had become real alarm. -Motionless in the tree, he durst not rustle the leaves to -make a peep-hole; he could only judge of what was going -on below by the words he heard. It was clear that a -carefully planned attack was to be made upon someone; he -could not doubt that the someone was Sherebiah; both -Polignac and the captain had heavy scores to pay off. -Fanshawe would be involved in the same peril. His -notion of playing a trick was forgotten; there was serious -work for him to do.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Let the rope lie on the road," he heard Aglionby say, -"and you men remain at the tree ready to raise it and -draw it taut at my signal."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Harry saw through the scheme in a flash. The rope -was to be pulled taut across the road to stop the progress -of the horsemen, and in the confusion the victim was -doubtless to be attacked, every advantage being on the -side of the ambuscaders. And at this moment his ears -distinguished the faint distant beat of hoofs on the road.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Captain," said one of the men, "what if I were to -climb the tree and pick them off from above?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Crouching against the stem Harry felt his heart-beats -quicken. The suggestion if promptly acted on would be -fatal to the project he had already formed to turn the -tables upon the unsuspecting party beneath.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a moment's pause. Then another voice in -low tones interjected:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I hear horses on the road."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," interposed Polignac, replying rapidly to the -man's proposal. "We must have two men at the rope -if they are riding abreast; that leaves only three when -we stop them; it is easy to miss in this dark night, and -they are both ready with their weapons. Remember, -there must be no noise; one volley, then cold steel, lest -we have the Breda garrison upon us."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Harry wore his sword, and had with him the pistol -without which he never stirred abroad. He had been -rapidly deciding upon his course. If he was to be of any -use, he must warn his friends before they came within -range of the ambuscade; yet he durst not fire too soon, -for the only result would be to bring them up at a gallop, -and they would then almost certainly fall victims. Now -that almost complete darkness had fallen, he ventured to -make an opening in the foliage and to peer cautiously -down.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He saw Aglionby and Polignac on the other side of the -road crouching behind the gate-posts. Two men had -concealed themselves behind the tree's thick trunk, holding -the slack end of the rope; the third waited near them, -pistol in hand. Though Harry could not see weapons -in the hands of Polignac and Aglionby, he had no doubt -that they too had pistols, ready to be used as soon as the -riders were brought to a stand-still. On the side -overhanging the road, the tree had been lopped of one or two -lower branches, but a fairly thick bough ran out on the -other side just above the man holding the pistol. Quickly, -for time pressed, yet with great caution in order to avoid -the slightest noise, Harry crept from his perch over the -road, sliding backward down the branch until he reached -the trunk. Then, holding his sword lest it clinked against -the tree, he straightened himself and turned round, steadying -himself with his free hand. One careful step brought -him to the fork of the horizontal stem and the parent trunk. -He heard the hoof-beats coming very near; the riders could -be but a few hundred yards away; fortunately the growing -sound was loud enough to drown the slight rustle he could -not avoid; and besides, the men below were too much -preoccupied with their stratagem to have wits for anything but -their advancing victims.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Harry's feet were now wedged somewhat awkwardly; -he felt by no means secure, and was for an instant -perplexed how to dispose of his sword, for in drawing his -pistol with the right hand he would need the left to -maintain his equilibrium. He hit on a solution. Grasping the -lower part of the scabbard with his knees he prevented it -from rattling against the tree trunk; then, resting on his -left hand, he bent over to get as clear a view as the -circumstances afforded of the man immediately beneath. For -a second he hesitated. It went against the grain to fire -at the unsuspecting wretch; but the sound of the -hoof-beats now certainly within musket-shot banished his -hesitation and clinched his resolve. It was life against -life: the lives of Fanshawe and Sherebiah against those -of the villains ambushing them. Taking careful aim he -fired. The cry of the wounded man was smothered by his -own shout:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Stop, Fanshawe! Jump the ditch and make for the tree!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Without waiting to learn the result of his warning, he -sprang round, heedless now of what noise he made, and, -swinging by a branch to his right, dropped to the ground -just behind the two other men, who had let go of the rope -in their alarm and were transfixed with terror and -amazement, staring into the black depths of the tree above -them. One of them faced round as he heard the thud of -Harry's descent. Without pausing to draw his sword -Harry hurled himself at the man, hit out at him with all -his strength, and felled him to the ground. The other, -the first moment of paralysis past, whipped out a pistol -and snapped it before Harry had time to recover himself. -It missed fire; Harry closed with the man. There was a -brief, sharp struggle; in the midst came Sherebiah's voice:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where bist, sir, where bist?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Here; by the tree; get a grip of this knave!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At the sound of Sherebiah's voice Harry felt his opponent's -efforts relax; the man tried to free himself; but -Sherebiah had ridden his horse up to the tree, and bending -low from the saddle to distinguish between the combatants, -he brought the butt of his pistol down on the man's head. -He fell without a groan.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Now Fanshawe dashed up. His horse had slipped at -the ditch, thus giving Sherebiah a slight start.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Two men on the other side of the road," panted Harry. -"Follow me!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Springing across the ditch he gained the other side of -the road, and vaulted the gate. Fanshawe and Sherebiah -had to dismount to follow him, for the road was too narrow -to allow of their leaping the gate. Aglionby and his -companion had not waited; discovering that their plan had -failed, they had hurried away towards their horses. But -they had not gone far. Harry heard a noise ahead; there -was a chance of overtaking them before they gained their -saddles. He dashed on over the stubble, and soon descried -a broad figure lumbering along; from its stertorous -breathing he guessed it to be Aglionby, an opinion confirmed -immediately by the mingled oaths and entreaties which the -captain sent after Polignac, who being lighter of foot had -far outstripped his fellow-conspirator. Hearing Harry's -step just behind him, Aglionby at length halted, swung -round, and fired his pistol. But hard running and breathlessness -flurried him and spoilt his aim; the ball whistled -harmlessly past. So impetuous had been Harry in pursuit -that he had had no time to draw his sword. He struck out -at Aglionby, who only half warded the blow, staggering -backward and endeavouring to parry this lively attack. -Seeing his opportunity, Harry closed and tripped the big -man up with a favourite fall taught him by Sherebiah; -and Fanshawe coming up with Sherebiah at this moment, -Aglionby was secured in a trice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That cursed coward!" he spluttered, as they led him -back to the road. "Odsnigs! I'll be even with him for -this."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nay," said Sherebiah, who had him grimly by the -collar, "'ee'll never be </span><em class="italics">even</em><span> wi' un, Rafe Aglionby. Your -carcass'll need a longer rope."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Tis all a mistake, coz, on my honour," pleaded the -captain.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't 'ee coz me, I disown 'ee. I'll see a villain hung; -and that'll be no mistake."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Leave him to me, Sherry," said Harry, "and go and -see to the man we hit."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A short examination proved that the man Harry had -shot was less seriously wounded than he who had fallen -to Sherebiah's pistol-butt. The third man whom Harry -had knocked down had escaped in the darkness. The -other two, injured as they were, were unable to walk, so -Harry had them hoisted on to the horses, where they -were held up by Fanshawe and Sherebiah. With Aglionby -in his own keeping Harry led the march to Breda. On -arriving there, all three prisoners were handed over to the -Dutch authorities, and Harry asked Fanshawe to his rooms -to talk over this adventure of the road.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Faith," said Fanshawe, when Harry had explained his -presence on the spot, "'twas a mercy you had the thought -to walk out. But it passes my understanding why that -fellow Aglionby should have been minded to waylay me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Twas not you, 'twas Sherry that was the intended -victim. I told you of the neat way he bundled the captain -out of Madame de Vaudrey's house; that was only one of -several affronts the bully has had to suffer. And I rather -suspect that you were mistaken for me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How so?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Twas part of the scheme of old Berkeley's to get rid -of me; of that I am sure. And the other fellow, the -Frenchman, must be pretty sore at his two discomfitures."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You will, of course, inform against him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Twould be little use, I fear. He was masked; I knew -him only by his voice, and my testimony would not suffice -to convict him on that ground alone."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Did Aglionby say nothing as you walked into the town?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nothing. I plied him with questions, but he held an -obstinate silence; scarce opened his mouth except to say -'twas all a mistake."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am not sure you are right. Don't you think it may -have been the Frenchman's plan—to get rid of me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why of you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, you told me he is a suitor for Mademoiselle's -hand——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What then?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He may have looked on me as a rival."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come, that's a good joke. You've known Mademoiselle -for little better than a month."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah! One can see you're young, Harry, and fancy -free; I wish I were. But your Monsieur de Polignac -might have spared his pains."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You're talking in riddles, Fanshawe; speak plain -English, man."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, 'twas true."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What was true?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She wouldn't have me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Harry stared in puzzlement. Then a light dawned, and -he smiled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You don't mean to say you've been on your knees to -Mademoiselle Adèle?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Indeed I have! By George, Harry! isn't she a splendid -creature? But she wouldn't have me: that's all over; -life isn't worth living now: I don't care how soon a bullet -puts an end to my miserable existence."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Fanshawe sighed lugubriously; Harry laughed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Poor fellow! is it so bad as that? She didn't fall a -victim to your new coat, then?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Tis all very well for you to laugh. Wait till you -suffer just such a rebuff."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Tell me what you said."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How do I know what I said? I only know what she -said. She dropt me a curtsy, the hussy, and thanked me -for the honour, and said she had no mind to a husband -and would never wed, but stay with her mother. And -then she opened the harpsichord and said: 'Don't let us -be children, Monsieur. Sing me that amusing song of -yours and be amiable.' And 'pon my word, Harry, I -couldn't resist; she has a masterful way; and when her -mother came in there was I trolling 'Widdicombe Fair' as -if there'd been never a word of love betwixt us."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Cheer up! you were too sudden. Wait a few months -and then try your luck again."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Never! I know she won't look at me. And take my -advice, Harry. If ever you fall in love with a girl, don't -make yourself cheap and sing cheerful songs. Egad, if -I'd sung dying ditties and sighed like a furnace I might -have had a different tale to tell. I'll go to quarters; -but I sha'n't sleep; I know I sha'n't; good-night!"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="a-little-plot"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XVIII</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">A Little Plot</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="small">Father and Son—A Message from Breda—An Afternoon -Call—When Greek meets Greek—The Tug of -War—Pourparlers—The Merk—Two Men and a -Sack—Snatched from the River—Cousin Rafe—Scant -Gratitude—A Ray of Light</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>One afternoon Squire Berkeley sat solitary in his inn at -the Hague, warming his lean, withered hands in the blaze -of a log fire. The air was cold, and it had been raining -heavily for hours. The old man had laid aside his wig; a -black velvet skull-cap covered his white hair to the ears; -and, clad in the long cassock-like garment of rusty black -that he always wore indoors, he might have passed, with -his thin haggard cheeks, for an ascetic dignitary of the -Church rather than the prosperous lord of an English -manor.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He sat in a high-backed chair, staring into the fire. -His lips moved as he communed with himself, and the -expression of his face showed that his thoughts were none -too pleasant. Once or twice he clenched his teeth and -brought his closed fist heavily down upon the arm of the -chair; he sighed often, and looked the very image of a -sad, anxious, embittered man.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Presently the door opened noisily and, with a gust of -keen air that made the squire shiver, a young man entered -the room. It was Piers Berkeley, the squire's son. He -was dressed as usual in the height of fashion, but -presented a bedraggled woebegone aspect now, his finery -effectually ruined by the rain.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Split me, father," he cried in a peculiarly high and -affected tone of voice, "I'm verily the most wretched man -on earth."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What is the matter?" said the old man, turning half -round. "Why have you left your regiment?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why! Stap my vitals, 'tis what I wish to know. I've -rid post from Breda through the most villainous rain ever -I saw. Look, I'm splashed to the eyes; my third best -wig is utterly ruined; the colour of my waistcoat has run; -'twas a heavenly puce, and I'll be even with the tailor, -hang him! that swore the colour was fast. As for my -new jack-boots—look 'ee, they're not fit for a ploughman. -And why! You may well ask."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, you have a reason, I suppose. You want more -money for your drunken orgies—is that it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hark to that, now! Was ever poor wretch so scurvily -used by his own father! Why——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come, a truce to your prating. Your reason, sir, and -at once."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A warm welcome, egad! Well, sir, I've a something -for you, a billet-doux; ha! ha!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The squire sprang up with an agility surprising in a -man of his years. There was a look of expectancy, almost -of joy, in his eyes, and he held forth his hand eagerly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Give it me," he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You will deal handsomely by me," said the youth; -"consider, 'tis not every son would ride through pelting -rain and spoil his garments withal for——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Give it me, I say," cried the old man passionately.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Piers took from an inner pocket a letter, sealed with -a big red seal. The squire's eyes gleamed as he took it -and saw the handwriting of the address; his hand trembled -as he tore away the seal and unfolded the paper. Then -came a sudden change. The pallor of his cheeks became -a deathly white, his features were distorted with rage, he -muttered a curse and flung the letter to the floor.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Gadzooks, 'tis not a billet-doux, then," piped his son, -stooping to pick up the paper.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Let it lie!" shouted the old man. "Lay not a finger -on it, you—you puppy!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, there now," said the youth in an aggrieved -tone. "That is all the thanks I get for adventuring -myself in the fury of the elements, and ruining past cure as -fine a coat as ever was seen in Spring Garden."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Silence! Hold your foolish tongue! You're a useless -fool! You're a scented fop, the mock of every farthing -playwright in the kingdom. Heavens! what have I done -that I should be cursed with a brainless, senseless -coxcomb that can do nothing but squander good money in -fal-lals and worse!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Odsnigs! 'tis most villainous injustice. I can do -many things, egad. I can make a good leg, and trounce -a watchman, and pink a cit, and——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Out of my sight, out of my sight!" cried the exasperated -father, stepping forward with uplifted hand as though -to strike the poor fool.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Zoons! I protest this——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But he left the sentence perforce unfinished, for the -squire caught him by the shoulders and exerting all his -strength thrust him from the room, turning the key, and -standing for a moment with hand on heart to recover his -breath. Then he suddenly opened the door again, caught -the young man before he had gone three steps, swung him -round, and holding him in a firm grip said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"See that you say nothing of this. You know nothing -of that man, that Aglionby, except that you met him on -the packet-boat; you hear me? Presuming on that -acquaintance he sought your assistance; you have wit -enough to remember that? And you are not to go near -him again."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Egad, I've no wish to. Once is enough. A prison -cell is no place for me. I had to hold my nose; and egad, -to use a whole bottle of scent afterwards."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The old man pushed him contemptuously away, returned -to his room, and again locked the door. He picked up -the letter, sat down in his chair, and, crouching there, -seemed to have shrunk even to less than his former -meagre bulk. He read the letter again. It ran:—</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>"SIR,</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Fate is against me. In pursuit of the Businesse you -wot of, I am at this present layd by the heels, in Jail, under -sentence to be Hang'd. Young Rochester & my Cozen have -done it. 'Tis nessessarie for you to pulle me out of this Hole, & -speedilie, or </span><em class="italics">I'll tell All I knowe</em><span>. The Meanes I leave to you; I -advize to comunicate with Mr de Poliniac at his house in the -Plein; he will helpe: he has </span><em class="italics">Goode Reasone</em><span>, for at a Worde from -me he'll </span><em class="italics">swing too</em><span>. No more at this Present from yr humble</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>"RALPH AGLIONBY.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>"P.S.—I knew your Sonne was in Breda. He </span><em class="italics">knowes Nothing</em><span>."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The squire tore up the paper and flung the pieces on the -fire. For a few moments he sat in thought; then he rose -and went into an ante-room, returning soon in his -outdoor attire—wig, cocked hat, and long cloak. A few -minutes later he was walking at a brisk pace through the -rain towards the house mentioned in Aglionby's letter. -He knocked at the door; there was no answer; the green -shutters were closed, the house had the appearance of -being shut up for the season. He knocked again, and yet -again, with growing vehemence, attracting the attention -of passers-by. At length the door was opened for a few -inches. Mr. Berkeley pushed it, but it was on the chain.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Qu'est-ce que Monsieur demande?" said a voice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Monsieur de Polignac."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Monsieur is not within," said the same voice in English, -the speaker having detected the squire's nationality -by his accent.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where is he?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Pardon, Monsieur, I am not sure where my master is -at this moment; but if Monsieur will leave a message——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Something in the man's manner assured Mr. Berkeley -that he was lying.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Look 'ee, my man," he said sternly, "I counsel you -to bethink yourself. I will walk for five minutes, in the -rain; you will have time to acquaint your master that an -English gentleman whose name is probably unknown to -him desires to see him on a very urgent matter—in the -interest, mark you, of himself. An urgent matter, mark -you. In five minutes I will return."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On returning Mr. Berkeley was instantly admitted. -The manservant, cowering beneath his stern look, led him -meekly to a room off the hall, where he found Polignac in -long cloak and jack-boots, evidently on the point of -departing on a journey. The squire gave him a keen glance, -and was not surprised to find that it was the same man -whom he had met at the door of Aglionby's attic some -months before.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Monsieur de Polignac?" he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That is my name, Monsieur."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My name is Berkeley. I met you at Aglionby's. It -is for him I come. I desire a word with you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am at your service, Monsieur. Shall we be private?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It will doubtless be better so."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Polignac shut the door, and offered Mr. Berkeley a seat.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thank you, I will stand; I need not detain you long."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"As you please, Monsieur."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You have heard, Monsieur, of the plight into which -our friend Captain Aglionby has fallen?—I say </span><em class="italics">our</em><span> friend."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I will not dispute the phrase, Monsieur. I had heard, -as you surmise."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Pardon me—as he is our friend—am I right in assuming -that the news may have some little connection with -your purposed journey?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Since, as you say, he is </span><em class="italics">our</em><span> friend, I do not deny it, -Monsieur."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So that it will be, let us say, not disagreeable to you -if some means of—of cheating the hangman—I am a plain -blunt man, Monsieur—should be discovered?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Pardon me, Monsieur, I do not follow you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Berkeley looked at him keenly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have had a letter from our friend," he said slowly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And I also, Monsieur."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He solicits my assistance."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And mine."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I came at once to see you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And I, Monsieur, leave at once for Paris."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Polignac, leaning against the window-frame, had an -inscrutable smile upon his face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I will sit down," said Mr. Berkeley, placing a chair -with its back to the door; "I find our interview will last a -little longer than I looked for."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"As you please, Monsieur. You will permit me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Polignac seated himself at the table.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It appears, Monsieur," said the squire, "that I should -have said </span><em class="italics">my</em><span> friend."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Again, Monsieur, I will not dispute the phrase. His -family estates join yours, I understand?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I do not know; I only repeat what your friend told me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, I understand," said Mr. Berkeley hurriedly, -feeling that by his unguarded exclamation he had lost -one point in the game. "Not precisely adjoin, but the -phrase is sufficiently exact: we are neighbours."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And naturally you are concerned at the hapless situation -into which your neighbour's evil star has brought him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That is so, Monsieur."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Especially seeing that his evil star's influence extends -also to you; is it not so?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"As a neighbour and friend, you mean, Monsieur?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, I do not mean that. I cannot say, like you, -Monsieur, that I am a plain blunt man, but I think with -small effort you will understand my meaning. I put myself -in your place. Suppose, I tell myself, a neighbour of mine, -whom I had found useful, had in the course of some -enterprise on my behalf been so unlucky as to come into the -grip of the law; naturally I should feel deeply concerned -in his fate, and certainly I should do all in my power to -save him, especially if I knew that the said enterprise was -one that the law would look unkindly on. Such would be -my sentiments, Monsieur, and I do not suppose myself -different from other men."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The case is so well put, Monsieur, that it would seem -to fit your situation to a nicety."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Appearances are then deceitful, Monsieur. Strange -to say, I had the same thought with regard to you. Your -friend the captain is not a hero, certainly not a martyr, -and even though a few vindictive words at the last would -not save his neck, yet to a man of his disposition it would -sweeten his end to know that another shared his fate."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Berkeley had been growing visibly restive. How -much did this suavely malicious Frenchman know? He -dared not question him plainly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You speak, Monsieur, of a few vindictive words. It -is clear to me that Aglionby has threatened you——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And I care not a jot for his threats," interrupted -Polignac. "As you are aware, I am about to depart for -Paris; eh bien! Monsieur le Capitaine's threats will not -reach me there."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But if I save him, Monsieur?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Polignac's mouth twitched.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He is a vengeful man," pursued the squire. "I should -have no object in concealing from him your notions of -the obligations of friendship; and since it appears that -you, on your side, permit yourself to talk of an 'enterprise' -and 'the grip of the law', does it not occur to you -that the captain, and I myself as his friend, might make -things—well, very unpleasant for you? And remember, -you are not in Paris yet."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a moment's silence, taking advantage of -which Mr. Berkeley leant forward and, tapping Polignac's -knee, added:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come, Monsieur, let us understand one another. It is -to my interest that Captain Aglionby should not die—by -the hangman; it is to your interest—correct me if I am -wrong—that he should not live, or you will find this -country shut to you. Our interests appear to clash; but -is it not possible—I throw out the suggestion—to reconcile -them—to gain both our ends?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Polignac smiled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Let us talk as friends, Monsieur," he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>An hour passed before Mr. Berkeley left the house. It -was still raining, but his gloomy expression had given -place to one of fierce satisfaction. Polignac bade him a -cordial adieu at the door, and as soon as he was gone -called his servant.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Antoine," he said, "unsaddle my horse. I do not ride -to-day."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>One evening, at dusk, Harry Rochester, whom no experience -could cure of his habit of taking solitary strolls, -was seated on a bridge spanning the Merk at a short -distance outside Breda. His thoughts were anything but -pleasant. Aglionby and his associates, though defended -by the sharpest criminal lawyer in Holland, had been -condemned to death, and the execution had been fixed for the -morrow. Harry knew that the captain richly deserved his -fate; his action in betraying his cousin Sherebiah in itself -put him beyond the pale of pity, to say nothing of his -persistent offences against Sherebiah's master, which Harry -was more ready to forgive. But despicable as the man -was, Harry, almost in spite of himself, felt a certain -compassion for him. He had learnt from Sherebiah something -of his history. His mother, old Gaffer Minshull's sister, -had died when Ralph was very young, heart-broken by -her husband, one of Cromwell's Ironsides, yet a hypocrite -of the most brutal type. Aglionby had received a fair -education, but had run wild from boyhood, and as a mere -youth had decamped or been driven from his father's house -and gone out into the world to seek his fortune. Sherebiah -had lost sight of him for years; suddenly he had -reappeared at Winton St. Mary, seared with travel and -hard faring, and full of stories of adventure and prowess -in all parts of Europe, especially in the service of the -Czar of Muscovy. Harry knew as much as Sherebiah -of his subsequent career, and shared the surprise of the -whole village at the strangely close acquaintanceship -between the captain and the squire.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This was the man who was to die next day, and Harry, -sitting on the bridge, one hand clasping his knee, almost -wished that he had let the villain go. He had been brought -up in the worst school; all his life long he had been an -Ishmael, his hand against every man, every man's hand -against him. His mother had been a Minshull: surely -there was some seed of good in him; mayhap his villainies -were only the desperate expedients of a man who had no -means of livelihood; certainly he could have no cause of -enmity against Harry, and his machinations must be put -down to the man who employed him. His approaching -fate weighed also upon Sherebiah, who had for days gone -about with restlessness and anxiety printed upon his -usually jocund face. Certainly the good fellow had no -reason to love Aglionby, but after all they were of the -same blood, and Sherry appeared to fear keenly the -shame and disgrace.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Looking over the glooming river, idly watching the rolling -water and the scattered buildings upon the bank, Harry -suddenly perceived a small door open in the face of a store -or warehouse some few yards to his left. The door was -some thirty feet above the river, and gave upon a narrow -platform to which goods were hoisted by a crane from -barges below. As the door opened, inwards, a head -appeared. The owner looked for some time up and down -the river, over which darkness was fast falling. All was -quiet; no traffic was passing; no craft indeed was to be -seen save one small boat, moored to a post on the bank -some yards on the other side of the bridge.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The head disappeared, but immediately afterwards two -men emerged from the doorway, coming sideways through -the narrow opening. Between them they carried a large -sack which their exertions showed to be heavy. They -came to the edge of the platform; they laid their burden -down; then, giving a quick look around, with one push -they toppled it over, and it fell with a sounding plump -into the water. It disappeared below the surface; after a -moment the two men returned into the warehouse, and the -door was shut.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The rivers were such common receptacles of rubbish -that Harry would not have given a second thought to this -incident but for a certain furtiveness in the manner of the -two men. He wondered what the sack contained. All -at once he saw it reappear on the surface, several yards -nearer to him; the stream was flowing fast in his direction.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Tis maybe a superfluous dog," he thought, for only -an animal was likely to rise after such an immersion. Yet -it was large for a dog.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The sack came steadily towards him: it was about to -pass under the single arch of the bridge: he leant over -to watch it: and with a start of amazement saw dimly a -white human face. At that same moment the bundle -sank again. Harry could not know whether it was man -or woman, whether alive or dead, but without an instant's -hesitation he ran to the other parapet, sprang on it, and -dived into the river. A drowning man rises three times, -he had heard; perhaps there was a chance to save this poor -wretch, whoever it might be, and foil his murderers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Coming to the surface with a gasp, he looked around -for any sign of the dark bundle, fearing lest in the -blackness of the encroaching night he might lose it altogether. -For some seconds he saw nothing; then, a few yards -away, it bobbed up. Three or four vigorous strokes -brought the swimmer to it just as it was going down -once more. He seized it with his left hand and, -supporting the head above the water, made for the bank, -luckily no more than seven or eight yards distant. He -hauled the heavy object up the sodden slope, stooped down -to examine it, and saw that it was a man tied up to the -neck, and with a gag about his mouth. It was the work -of a moment to tear away the gag. He placed his hand -over the man's heart: did it still beat? He could not tell; -all feeling seemed to be deadened within him by his -excitement and strain. The man made no sound or -movement. Harry shivered and thought he must be dead; of the -means to resuscitate a half-drowned man he knew nothing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A few seconds passed; then he heard hasty footsteps -behind him, and turned just as Sherebiah sprang down -the slope. The faithful fellow had been again playing his -part of watch-dog; he had seen Harry's plunge into the -river, and raced round the embankment in alarm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Fecks, you give me a jump, sir," he panted. -"What's amiss?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah! Sherry, look; 'tis a man, in a sack; the poor -wretch is drowned, I fear."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Tis murder then. Let's see, sir."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He stooped down, cut the fastenings of the sack, and -pulled it off the body.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now sir, lend a hand. Fust thing is to pour the -water out of un."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He was gagged, Sherry."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then that saves our time. A gagged man can't ship -many gallons o' water. Leave un to me, sir."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He quickly opened the man's coat and vest, bent over -him, and pressed heavily beneath his lower ribs. Then he -sprang back, and again bent forward and pressed. After -repeating these movements several times, he went to the -man's head, took his arms and pulled them back till they -met behind, then jerked them forward upon his breast. -A gurgling sound came from the man's lips.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He be alive, sir," cried Sherebiah. "Another minute -or two and we'll have un on his feet."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A great sigh escaped from the prostrate form.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well done, master," said Sherebiah, ceasing from his -exertions. "You've got your breath again, thanks be. -Now, take your time, and don't get up till 'ee feel -disposed: only bein' drippen wet the sooner you be dry the -better, so——Sakes alive! Master Harry, 'tis my -good-for-nothen cousin Rafe Aglionby, and no one else."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good heavens!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Rafe, man, can 'ee open your eyes? 'Tis me and -Mr. Rochester; you be safe."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Both Harry and Sherebiah were now stooping over the -captain. His eyes opened; the same choking sound came -from his lips. For some minutes he lay gasping, -wriggling, endeavouring vainly to rise, the others watching -him the while with mixed feelings. His recovery of -consciousness was slow: at last his movements ceased, -he heaved a great sigh and looked up with intelligence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How be'st come to this?" asked Sherebiah. "Thowt -'ee was ripe for hangman this time, coz."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Rot you!" spluttered the captain, struggling to his -feet. "Hands off! Shall I never be quit of you!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Zooks! That's your thanks! Come, Rafe, blood's -thicker nor water, as 'ee said yourself: you've broke prison -sure enough, but they'll be after 'ee afore mornen. -Mr. Rochester ha' saved 'ee from drownen, but you must put -a few miles betwixt 'ee and hangman afore you can rest -easy. How be'st come to this, man?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Let me go, I tell you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But you be drippen wet, Rafe; you'll cotch your death -o' cold;—and faith, so will Master Harry. Better get -home, sir, and change your things."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No hurry, Sherry. Captain Aglionby, believe me, you -must make yourself scarce. You've done me many an -ill turn, for what reason I know not. But that's past -now; I have no wish to give you up to the hangman. -There's a boat moored to the bank a few yards down: -you had better take that, and row through the night. -Sherry, you're dry; change clothes with the captain."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll have none of his clothes. I'll take the boat. Out -of my way!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Escaping from Sherebiah's grasp, Aglionby stumbled -away in the direction of the boat, the other two -watching him in silence until the darkness swallowed him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Unthankful viper!" muttered Sherebiah.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"To save a foe's life is an injury never forgiven," said -Harry with a shrug. "I'm shivering, Sherry: let us get -back."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay sure. But I'd like to know what be the true meanen -o' this. To be saved out o' jail and then chucked into -river—why, in a manner o' speaken 'tis out o' fryen-pan into fire. -One thing 'tis sure: my coz Rafe bean't born to be hanged nor -drownded neither: question is, will it be pison or a -dagger-end? But you be mortal cold, true; we'll home-along, sir."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They returned to the city, and were passing a large -inn in the market-place when Harry suddenly touched -Sherebiah on the arm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sherry, you see that man at the door of the coach -there? 'Tis one of the men I saw fling Aglionby into the -river. I know him by his cap."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I' feck, we'll have a nearer sight on un, and see who -he be speaken to in coach. Keep close, sir, and we'll take -a peep at 'em unbeknown."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Crossing to the other side of the street, and keeping -well in the darkness, they quickly made their way towards -the coach, and reached a position whence, by the light of -the inn lamp, they could see into it without being seen. -Each turned to the other in silence, astonishment and -conviction in their eyes. The occupants of the coach were -two: Mr. Berkeley and Monsieur de Polignac. It was to -the latter that the man at the door was speaking. They -were clearly at the end of their conversation; the man -touched his cap and withdrew, and as the coach drove off, -a look of gratification shone in the faces of its two -occupants.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What do you make of that, Sherry?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Make on't! 'tis plain as a pikestaff. Dead men tells no -tales; that's what I make on't, sir. Rafe Aglionby knows -a mort too much for they two high-liven villains; that's -where 't is: they got un out o' jail to stop his tongue at -scaffold foot, and then pitched un in the river to cool it -for ever. 'Tis a mortal pity we let un go, sir, for't seems -to me we ought to know what he knows, and get to the -bottom o' the squire's desperate work agen you. But you -always was a tender-hearted Christian, like your feyther -afore 'ee."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I couldn't let murder be done before my very eyes, -Sherry."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, you'll have to see wuss now you be a man o' -war, sir. Well, 'tis heapen coals of fire on his yead, as -the Book says, and mebbe Them above'll reward 'ee -for't; ay, so."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="marlborough-s-march-to-the-danube"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XIX</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">Marlborough's March to the Danube</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="small">A Foreigner at the Hall—War Again—Good-bye!—Comparisons—Up -the Rhine—A Bold Stroke—Marlborough's Way—Despatches—A -Mission to Eugene—Fanshawe Missing—The Road to -Innsprück—Zum Grauen Bären—Mein Wirth—Breakfast at -Three—The Second-best Room—A Trap-Door—Midnight -Visitors—A Hasty Toilet—A Sound on the Stairs—Through -the Copse—Stampede—The Lieutenant of the Guard—At -Obermiemingen—The Little Abbé—Max Berens—A Surprise -Visit—Mein Wirth Explains—Injured Innocence—In the -Net—Hobson's Choice—The Missing Messengers—In Terrorem</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>No soldier worth his salt ever endured the long idleness -of winter quarters patiently, and Harry Rochester was not -an exception to the rule. As the weary months passed -slowly by, he grew tired of the endless drilling and -exercising, varied by marching and sham fights. He was very -popular with his captain, Willem van der Werff, and the -other officers of the regiment, but found himself unable -to take much interest in their amusements. Beer-drinking -was not to his taste; the Dutch comedies performed at the -theatres were dull, and the paternal government prohibited -the performance of lighter French pieces. As the winter -drew on he had opportunities of skating, and became -so proficient as to win a prize at a regimental match; -but the frost was not of long duration. He was not a -fellow to allow time to hang on his hands. He practised -broadsword and sabre with Sherebiah, read a great deal -of Dutch, studied all the military histories on which he -could lay hands, and spent many an hour poring over -maps until he had the geography of all central Europe -at his finger-ends.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>No great news came from the outside world. In -November the Netherlands suffered in some degree from -the fierce storm that swept through the Channel, strewing -the English shores with wrecks, ripping off trees at the -roots, blowing down churches and houses. In the same -month also the Archduke Charles passed through Holland -</span><em class="italics">en route</em><span> for England and Spain, to assume in the latter -country the sovereignty which was the bone of contention -between his father the Emperor and King Louis of France.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Almost the only relaxations in Harry's life were his visits -to Madame de Vaudrey's house, where both he and -Fanshawe were always welcome guests. They formed with -Mynheer Grootz a little house-party there during the New -Year week. It happened that on the last day of the year -1703 Sherebiah received a letter from his father: a rare -event. One piece of news it contained was much discussed -at Madame de Vaudrey's table.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"And now I must tell you," wrote old Minshull, "as Squire -hev had a Visiter for a matter of munths. 'Tis a tall blacke -Frenchman by his looks and Spache, a tarrible fine gentleman, -with a Smile & a twitching Mouthe. Squire & he be alwaies -together, moste particler Frendes it do seeme. None of us soules -can't abide him, nor the Qualitie neither. For myself, I don't -like his Lookes, not me, & 'tis luckie he can't understand -English, for being a Man to speake my Minde I say things nowe -and again as would turne his blacke Hair white."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Harry had already mentioned having seen Polignac drive -away from Breda in company with the squire.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The odious man!" cried Madame de Vaudrey, when -Harry translated the gaffer's letter. "I only wonder that -the other man, that insolent captain, is not with them. -I wonder where he is?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't know," said Harry, who had kept his own -counsel regarding the last he had seen of Aglionby.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I hope he will never cross my path," said Mynheer -Grootz. "He is truly a villain, a dastard: to inform on -his cousin, and to plan the attack on Harry, and to have -the insolence to pay court to Madame la Comtesse!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, indeed," said the lady, "and my dear husband -not four years dead! Who is the squire that your old -friend writes of, Harry?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He is lord of the manor at my old home, Madame. -His son is in one of our foot regiments, and Mr. Berkeley -came over to Holland with him: it was then he met -Monsieur de Polignac."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Qui se ressemble s'assemble. What is the name of -the bad old man, Harry?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Berkeley."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Berkeley!" Madame de Vaudrey puckered her brow -and appeared to be reflecting.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How ugly your English names are!" exclaimed Adèle, -"and how difficult to say! I cannot even yet say -Rochestair properly."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You say it better than you say my name," said -Fanshawe gloomily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But then I have known Monsieur Rochestair longer," -returned Adèle. "Shall we go into the drawing-room, -Mamma? I do so want to hear Monsieur Fanshawe sing -that amusing song of his again."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Fanshawe glowered. He knew that Adèle was teasing -him, and wished with all his heart that he could recall the -luckless moment when he had first amused her with the -song of "Widdicombe Fair". Harry's eyes twinkled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," said Madame de Vaudrey, "you young people -can precede us to the drawing-room. I have a little matter -of business to talk over with our good friend Mynheer -Grootz."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then Adèle's eyes caught Harry's, and they both smiled -as at some secret known to them alone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Time passed away, and at length, when the winter was -gone, and the gray Dutch sky was rifted with the blue of -spring, came the welcome news that Marlborough had -arrived at the Hague and that a great campaign was to -open. No one knew what the duke's plans were, but there -was a general feeling that stirring events were preparing, -and a universal hope that the long series of small -engagements, sieges, marches and counter-marches would be -brought to an end by a decisive pitched battle. Mynheer -Grootz was working night and day at commissariat -business, and for weeks there was a continual bustle of -preparation: the cleaning of arms, the testing of harness, a -thousand-and-one details that employed countless people -beside the soldiers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At length a day came when, all preparations completed, -the eager troops were ready to march out. Harry and -Fanshawe, accompanied by Sherebiah, rode over to -Lindendaal one evening to take farewell of the ladies. -Fanshawe was in the dolefullest of dumps. Notwithstanding -Adèle's refusal of him, he had still nursed a hope that time -might prove on his side, but found every hint of a -sentimental nature adroitly parried, and now feared that with -his absence his last chance would disappear. His spirits -were raised a little by the warmth, and indeed effusiveness, -with which she bade him good-bye.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I shall hope to hear great things of you, Monsieur," -she said, "and to learn that you have come through the -campaign unscathed."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Your good wishes shall be my talisman, Mademoiselle," -said Fanshawe gallantly, bowing over her hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Harry meanwhile had taken leave of Madame de Vaudrey, -who held both his hands and spoke to him with a quite -motherly tenderness. Then he turned to say good-bye to -Adèle. She had disappeared. Fanshawe had already gone -out to the front of the house to see that his horse's girth -was rightly strapped, and Harry followed, thinking that -Mademoiselle had perhaps accompanied him to the door. -But as he passed through the hall, he saw through the -open door of the dining-room that Adèle was there, -standing at the window with her back to him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There you are, Mademoiselle," he said, entering the -room; "I was looking for you. It is a longer good-bye -this time."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She turned round slowly, and her back being to the -sunset glow he could scarcely see her features. She held -out her hand, and said slowly, with perhaps a little less -cordiality than he had unconsciously expected:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Adieu, Monsieur Harry!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He took her hand, hesitated for a moment, and then -was gone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As he left the porch he saw Sherebiah coming round -from the garden with his arm unblushingly about the waist -of Katrinka, the prettiest maidservant of the house. The -honest fellow led the girl up to his master.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I've done it, sir," he said. "Her've said it. Feyther -o' mine may think what a' will, but, an't please Them above -to bring me through, by next winter there'll be a Mistress -Minshull once more to comfort his old aged soul. Eh, -Katrinka, lass?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The girl looked shyly up and dropt a curtsy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Pon my soul, Sherry, you're a lucky fellow," said -Harry. "My old friend will be pleased, I promise you. -And look 'ee, I'll give you five minutes to say good-bye -to Katrinka while Mr. Fanshawe and I ride on."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thank 'ee, sir! I'll catch 'ee up, soon as her be -done."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sherry has had better luck than you, Fanshawe," said -Harry with a smile, as they rode off.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, confound him! But hang it, Harry, I'll not give -up hope yet. She was very kind to me when she said -good-bye, and, by George! if I only escape a Frenchman's -bullet and can manage to come off with flying colours and -a neat little sabre-cut—who knows? she may be Mistress -Godfrey Fanshawe yet."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Harry was silent. He felt a little surprised, perhaps -a little hurt, that Adèle should have shown more warmth -to Fanshawe, a friend of later date. He did not know -what he had expected; he could not, indeed, have put his -thoughts into words; but the coldness of Mademoiselle's -farewell, so strongly contrasting with Madame's affectionate -manner, had left him vaguely dissatisfied and made -him disinclined to talk. Fanshawe, however, was in high -spirits, and chattered freely as they went side by side at -a walking pace along the road to Breda. Sherebiah by -and by overtook them, and kept a few yards behind. He -too was in capital spirits, and, having no one to converse -with, was humming as he rode:</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"So Tom Pearce he got to the top o' the hill,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>All along, down along, out along lee;</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span>And he seed his old mare a-maken her will,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>Wi' Bill Brewer, Jan Stewer, Peter Gurney, Peter Davy, Dan</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>Whiddon, Harry Hawk, old Uncle Tom Cobleigh and all,</span></div> -</div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span>Old Uncle Tom Cobleigh and all.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"So Tom Pearce's old mare, her took sick an' died,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>All along, down along, out along lee,</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span>And Tom, he sat down on a stone, an' he cried,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>Wi' Bill Brewer, Jan Stewer, Peter Gurney, Peter——"</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"Confound you, Sherry!" cried Fanshawe, who had -been so busy talking that not till this moment had he -recognized the song. "Hanged if you are not always -singing that wretched 'Widdicombe Fair'!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Beg pardon, sir. No offence. 'Tis a favourite ditty -o' mine, and, axin' your pardon, I thowt 'twas one o' -yourn too."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nay; anything else, anything else, my good fellow, not -that, as you love me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Very good, sir. I be in a mind to troll a ditty, 'tis -true, and if my tenor tones don't offend 'ee, I'll try a stave -o' 'Turmut-hoein'."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Next morning, under a bright May sun, the troops in -Breda marched out to join the Duke of Marlborough at -Ruremond. As Harry's troop passed Lindendaal, and -he caught a glimpse of fluttering handkerchiefs at the -windows, he could not help wondering whether he should -see those kind friends again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At Ruremond the troops were reviewed by the duke -himself; thence they marched to Juliers and Coblentz, -where they halted for two days to allow the Prussian -and Hanoverian levies in British pay to unite with them. -Everybody had expected that the march would be continued -up the Moselle, with the purpose of coming to grips -with the French army under Marshal Villeroy. But to the -general astonishment orders were given to cross that river -by the stone bridge, and then the Rhine by two bridges of -boats, and to proceed through the principality of -Hesse-Cassel. The new orders were eagerly discussed by the -officers of all the corps, but Marlborough had kept his own -counsel, and indeed at this time his plan was known to -scarcely anyone but Lord Godolphin, with whom he had -talked it over in outline before leaving England, and -Prince Eugene of Savoy, to whom he had entrusted it in -correspondence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The plan must have seemed hazardous, even reckless, to -soldiers who held by the old traditions; but it was one that -displayed Marlborough's military genius to the full. He -had divined the true meaning of the recent movements of -the French armies, and determined on a great effort to -defeat the aim of King Louis so shrewdly guessed at. -Relying on his ally, the Elector of Bavaria, the French -king had resolved to make a strenuous attack upon the -Emperor in the heart of his own dominions, Vienna. If -Austria were crushed in one great battle, Louis had reason -to expect a general rising of the Hungarians, by which -the empire would be so much weakened that he could -enforce peace and secure the triumph of his policy on his -own terms. Already a French army under Marshal Marsin -had joined forces with the Elector of Bavaria; other armies -were rapidly advancing to reinforce them, and the -combined host would be more than a match for any army that -the emperor could put in the field against it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marlborough saw only one way to save the empire: he -must prevent if possible the junction of the several French -armies, or, if that were impossible, defeat them in a pitched -battle. But he knew that the States of Holland would -shrink from the risk of an expedition so far from their -own borders; he therefore gave out that his campaign -was to be conducted along the Moselle, and only when -he was well on his way, and it was too late to oppose -him, did he reveal his full design. Fortunately the Dutch -Government rose to the opportunity; they sent him the -reinforcements and supplies he asked for, and were -satisfied with the detachment of one or two small forces to -keep watch on Villeroy, who had crossed the Meuse and -was threatening Huy. For himself, Marlborough intended -to press forward with all speed towards the Danube, join -Prince Louis of Baden and Prince Eugene of Savoy, and -give battle to the combined French and Bavarians on -ground of his own choosing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For Harry this famous march was attended with endless -novelty and excitement. Every morning at dawn camp -was struck, and for five or six hours, with occasional -halts, the troops marched, covering twelve or fifteen -miles, and bivouacking about nine o'clock, thus -completing the day's work before the sun grew hot. All -along the route supplies for man and beast were furnished -by commissaries, whose duties were so well organized that -everything was on the ground before the troops arrived, -and they had nothing to do but pitch their tents, boil their -kettles, and lie down to rest. Everything was arranged -and carried out with matchless regularity and order; -Marlborough himself had a thorough grasp of the details, and -showed such consideration for his men that on personal -grounds he won their admiration and confidence. The -passage of so large and miscellaneous a force, consisting -of English, Dutch, Prussians, Danes, and levies from several -of the minor German states, might well have been attended -by many disorders; but Marlborough always displayed -great humanity in his dealings with the people of the -country through which he passed, and in these matters -an army takes its cue from the commander-in-chief.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After quitting Coblentz, the duke went forward a day's -march with the cavalry, leaving the artillery and foot to -follow under the command of his brother, General Charles -Churchill. Unfortunately rainy weather set in towards the -end of May, and the roads were rendered so difficult that -Churchill's force lost ground, and by the time Marlborough -reached Ladenburg, on June 2, was four or five days behind. -This delay gave the duke some little cause for anxiety, for -he had learnt that Prince Louis of Baden, a brave but -sluggish general of the old school, had allowed reinforcements -to reach the Elector of Bavaria, and failed to seize an -excellent opportunity of defeating the combined force. -Marlborough, wishing on this account to hurry his -advance, sent back two troops of Dutch horse to assist his -brother with the cannon. One of these happened to be -Harry's. The heavy Flemish horses were serviceable in -dragging the guns, but the rains were so persistent and the -soft roads so cut up that when Churchill reached Maintz -he was still some five days' march behind the duke.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Late on the night of June 3, when the camp was silent, -a courier reached Maintz with the following despatch from -Marlborough at Ladenburg:—</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"I send this by express on purpose to be informed of the condition -you are in, both as to the troops and the artillery, and to -advise you to take your march with the whole directly to Heidelberg, -since the route we have taken by Ladenburg will be too -difficult for you. Pray send back the messenger immediately, -and let me know by him where you design to camp each night, -and what day you propose to be at Heidelberg, that I may take -my measures accordingly."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>General Churchill was roused from sleep to receive the -despatch. He at once wrote his reply, but on sending it -out to the messenger learnt that he had been suddenly -seized with illness, and was unable to ride. Churchill then -sent for Captain van der Werff, and asked him, since he -had already ridden the Ladenburg road with his troop, -to despatch the letter by one of his subalterns. The -captain, who knew of Harry's relations with Marlborough, -pleased himself with the thought of bringing the two -together again, and, to Harry's unbounded delight, ordered -him to ride at once to Ladenburg. Before he went he -was summoned to the bedside of General Churchill, and -saw the tall, thin, battered form of that excellent soldier -in the unheroic attire of night-shirt and cap. From him -he learnt, in case of accident, the gist of the message, -which was that Churchill undertook to arrive at Heidelberg -on June 7. Harry started before dawn, and reached -the camp at Ladenburg early. He had crossed the Neckar -by the bridge of boats used by Marlborough's troops on -the previous day, and found the army encamped along the -river-side opposite the town. The usual daily march had -been pretermitted, in order to allow time for the infantry -to make up something of the ground it had lost.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When Harry was taken into the presence of the -commander-in-chief, Marlborough was engaged in conversation -with Count Wratislaw, the emperor's agent, Colonel -Cadogan, his quartermaster-general, and other officers of -his staff. The duke had learnt that Prince Eugene of -Savoy was on his way to join him, and was anxious that -the meeting should take place as soon as possible, so that -the plan outlined in their correspondence might be -discussed in full detail. He had sent two messengers with -letters to meet Prince Eugene, informing him of his -whereabouts and urging him to hasten his coming; but neither -had returned, and he could not but fear that some -mischance had befallen them. But it was a characteristic of -Marlborough's that, whatever his difficulties and anxieties, -he preserved always the same outward appearance of -settled calm—a great factor in his power over men.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He received General Churchill's letter from Harry's -hand with a pleasant smile and word of thanks, and bade -him wait, to see if it demanded an answer. Then he -resumed his conversation, which was conducted in French. -Before long Harry, though he remained at a distance too -great to allow of his hearing what passed, judged from -the glances thrown occasionally in his direction that -something was being said about him. Presently Marlborough -beckoned him forward.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. Rochester," he said, "I have an errand for you. -I wish to communicate with Prince Eugene of Savoy; two -of my officers whom I sent to him have apparently -miscarried; I wish to try a third. You have had experience -in getting about the country, and I know from one or two -incidents in your late career that you have your wits about -you and can make good speed. You will carry a letter -from me to Prince Eugene. I will inform your colonel -that I have employed you on special duty.—Mr. Cardonnel, -be good enough to write from my dictation."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He dictated a short note to his secretary.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You understand French, of course, Mr. Rochester?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, my lord."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then I need not repeat my message. You will keep -it in mind in case circumstances should require you to -destroy the letter. You may meet with danger on the -road; otherwise I am at a loss to know why I am without -a reply to my two former letters. You must therefore -be on your guard. You will use all dispatch, hiring fresh -horses wherever it may be necessary—without, of course, -incurring needless expense. I opine that you may meet -Prince Eugene at Innsprück; Colonel Cadogan will furnish -you with a map; your best road will lie through -Heidelberg, Wisloch, and the Swabian Alb. When you reach -the prince you will doubtless be fatigued; his reply may -be sent by another messenger, to whom you will give such -hints for his guidance as your own journey may suggest. -In that case you need not unduly hurry your own return, -and on your way back you may find it possible to make -enquiries regarding the fate of my missing messengers: -they were Lieutenant Fanshawe of the Duke of -Schomberg's Horse, and Lieutenant Buckley of Colonel -Cadogan's. Do you know either of them?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Lieutenant Fanshawe is an old friend of mine, my -lord," said Harry, "but I don't know Lieutenant -Buckley."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Very well. His Excellency Count Wratislaw here -will, I doubt not, favour you with a letter of safety which -will avail you with any of the civil authorities whose -assistance you may need </span><em class="italics">en route</em><span>; but since 'tis advisable -to attract as little attention as possible, I counsel you to -make no use of the letter except on emergency. 'Twill -be common knowledge along the road whether the prince -has passed on his way to the army, so that you should meet -with no difficulty in finding him. Perhaps, the two -lieutenants having apparently come to grief, 'twould be well -for you to ride incognito. What is your opinion, Colonel -Cadogan?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Faith, my lord, let him go as a young English milord -making the grand tour."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But he would then need a servant and baggage."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Give out that his servant has broken his leg or is laid -up with the colic, and he is riding post to Venice; his wits -will invent a reason."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I think, sir, I would rather go as I am," said Harry. -"My errand would not then be complicated."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The simpler way is often the best," said the duke. -"Very well. Here is the letter; I will send you Count -Wratislaw's shortly; you will then set off at once."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Harry bowed and withdrew, feeling highly elated at -being entrusted with this mission. It was an expedition -on which he would gladly have had the company of Sherebiah; -but there was no time to send for him; besides, one -might go more safely than two. An hour later, furnished -with a supply of money by Colonel Cadogan, he rode off -on a fresh horse, passed through Heidelberg without delay, -by favour of Count Wratislaw's safe-conduct, and struck -into the long straight road that led due south through -Leimen and Wisloch.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>What had become of Fanshawe, he wondered. It was -a friendly country; the enemy were, so far as he could -gather, no nearer than Ulm on the Danube, so that it -was little likely that Fanshawe had fallen in with French -or Bavarian troops. On the other hand, the country was -infested with spies, and here and there in out-of-the-way -spots bands of outlaws were said to have fixed their -haunts, whence they made depredations on neighbouring -villages. But it was useless to speculate on what might -have happened, and Harry took care not to awaken -curiosity or suspicion by any premature enquiries. -Stopping merely to change horses at posting inns and to -snatch a light meal, he reached Stuttgart about six -o'clock in the afternoon, having ridden sixty miles since -he left Ladenburg. This, with his previous ride from -Maintz, had made him stiff and sore; but, tired as he was, -he determined to push on after a short rest, and reach, if -possible, the little town of Urach that night.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Soon after leaving Stuttgart he entered the district -known as the Swabian Alb, a country of wooded -mountains and picturesque, well-watered valleys, now in all their -midsummer glory. The road became steeper after he had -crossed the river Neckar, and as his horse was labouring -somewhat he began to wish that he had remained to sleep -in Stuttgart. He was still some miles short of Urach -when he came suddenly upon an inn, standing back from -the high-road, and nestling among a group of tall, -full-leaved beeches. It bore the sign "Zum grauen Bären". -The pleasant situation and the warm colours of this -Swabian hostelry were very inviting to a tired man. His -mouth was parched with thirst; his horse was panting -and steaming; and a short rest would do both of them -good. A moment's hesitation; then he wheeled to the -left, and was met by the landlord, who rose from a bench -before the inn, where he was smoking his evening pipe -along with a squat companion looking like a farmer. -The landlord was not so attractive in appearance as his -inn, but he gave Harry a suave greeting in German, and -asked how he could serve the noble Herr. Harry had -picked up a word or two of German in Holland, and asked -in that tongue for the refreshment he desired; but at the -first word the landlord gave him a sharp yet furtive look, -immediately effaced by his wonted bland smile. He went -into the inn, and soon returned with a cup of wine, while -an ostler brought a pail of water for the horse.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Harry was glad to rest his aching limbs on the bench, -and to sip the cool Rhenish. The landlord, standing by -him, showed a desire to be conversational.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The noble Herr is for Urach? He will scarcely get -there to-night."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He spoke now in a mixture of German and bad French.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, is it so far?" said Harry. "I thought I was -nearly there."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"True, Excellency, it is not very far; but the town -council has become somewhat timid since the French and -Bavarians came prowling along the Danube, and the gates -are shut at half-past seven."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A solitary horseman will not scare them," said Harry -with a smile. "They will surely open to me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not so, Excellency. The order is stern. Why, only -yesterday a Rittmeister passing to join the forces of the -Prince of Baden was refused admittance just after the -clock had struck, and had to come back to this very inn. -Donner, was he not angry, the noble Herr! But anger -cannot pierce stone walls; the gentleman uttered many -round oaths, but he came back all the same. Was it not -so, Hermann?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His thickset companion assented with a rough "Jawohl!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, I can but try," said Harry, thinking of Count -Wratislaw's letter as his open sesame. "I shall ride on -in a minute or two."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The landlord lifted his eyebrows.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The noble Herr has perhaps more persuasion than the -Herr Rittmeister. But if you find it as I say,—well, there -is good accommodation within."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He went into the inn with his companion, leaving Harry -on the bench. Harry reflected. It was absurd to tire -himself needlessly; he had ridden with brief intervals for -nearly eighteen hours since he left Maintz, and felt by no -means eager to get into the saddle again. Perhaps it -would be best to close with the man's offer, sleep at the -inn, and start fresh early in the morning. Yet he -hesitated; there was something about the landlord that he did -not like; he felt for him one of those unaccountable -antipathies that spring up at a word, a look, a touch. But -the feeling was vague and unsubstantial; after a moment -he dismissed it as unreasonable, and concluded that his -best course would be to take his rest now rather than run -the risk of having it deferred for some hours.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He went into the inn.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The noble Herr decides to stay?" said the landlord. -"Well! I would not persuade, but I think you are right, -Excellency. Johann, take the gentleman's horse to the -stable. I will see then that a room is prepared. And you -will like supper, Excellency?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes. Anything will do."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He accompanied the ostler to the stable and saw the -horse well rubbed and fed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Whose horse is that?" he asked, noticing a sorrel in -the next stall.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He belongs, Excellency, to the gentleman now with -the host, by name Hermann Bart, a farmer of the district."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh! he looks a strong beast—the horse, I mean. I -shall want to be off at dawn; you'll see that my horse is -ready?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Returning to the inn, he ate the plain supper brought -him by an old woman as deaf as a post. While he sat at -table the landlord stood opposite him, attentively -anticipating his wants.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I can have a light breakfast at three, landlord?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Certainly, Excellency; we are early birds here, though -in these times there are few travellers along the road, -more's the pity."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah! Is there any news of the armies hereabouts?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why yes. Only yesterday—so it is said—the Elector -of Bavaria crossed the river at Ulm, and the Prince of -Baden, who 'tis to be hoped will beat him, stands -somewhat higher up at Ehingen across the mountains yonder."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You have not been troubled yourself by the soldiers?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Never a whit, Excellency. And I trust I never shall -be. They march, you see, along the rivers, and my little -place is out of their route. You are travelling far, mein -Herr?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not a great distance," replied Harry, thinking it -prudent to give no information. The landlord made no -attempt to press him, but kept up a desultory -conversation until he had finished his supper.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I will go and take a look at my horse, and then turn in."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He went out to the stable, and noticed that the second -horse was gone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Your friend the farmer has gone home then?" he said -to the ostler.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, Excellency, some time ago."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My horse is comfortable, I see; good-night!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As he left the stable he heard the man behind him -whistling as he gave the cobbles a final sweeping for the -night. The tune seemed familiar, but Harry was not -sufficiently interested to give another thought to it. The -landlord met him at the door with a lighted candle and led -the way to his room.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is a small room, Excellency," he explained apologetically; -"not such a room as befits a gentleman of your -rank. But the truth is, the heavy rains of late have found -out a weak spot in the roof, and my large guest-chamber -is consequently very damp. The small room here to the -left is, however, very comfortable; it was last occupied by -an Austrian nobleman who slept through the night -without turning an eyelid."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then it will suit me very well," said Harry.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Breakfast at daybreak, you said, Excellency?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You will want nothing more to-night?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nothing. Good-night, landlord!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Harry shut the door and shot the bolt. He thought the -Austrian nobleman must have been easily satisfied. The -room was about twelve feet by seven, and contained -nothing but a bed and a chair. There was one small -window opening on to the courtyard some thirty feet -below, the view of the yard being partially obstructed by a -projecting wing of the house immediately beneath. The air -of the room being very stuffy, he opened the window wide; -then he undressed, blew out the light, and got into bed, -pulling out the blanket, which seemed somewhat frowsy, -and finding enough warmth in the light coverlet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But he found it impossible to sleep. He was in fact -overtired, and bodily fatigue often makes the mind only -more active. He fell a-musing, and wondered what it -was in the landlord's manner that he disliked. Through -the window came the sound of the stableman's whistle as -he locked the yard gate, and Harry tried in vain to -recollect where he had heard the tune before. The ostler was -a happy fellow, evidently; perhaps his master was better -than he appeared. The whistling ceased, a door banged, -presumably the man had gone to bed; "and he'll sleep as -sound as a top," thought Harry. He turned over on to -his back and stared at the ceiling, which consisted of thick -beams with rough boards between. By and by he noticed -a dark square outline in the planking just above him. He -could not see it distinctly, for the beams of the rising -moon did not fall upon it directly, but across the bed, -making the room itself fairly light. For a time he looked -idly at the square; it was evidently a trap-door. He -began to be curious about it, then was aware of an -indefinable, inexplicable sense of uneasiness, of insecurity. -He felt that he could neither withdraw his gaze from the -trap-door nor put it from his thoughts. He turned on -to his right side, away from the window, but in a few -moments was on his back again, staring up as before.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"This is ridiculous," he said to himself impatiently. -"I wonder whether the thing has a bolt."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He rose, and, standing on the bed, found that with -outstretched hand he could just reach the boards. Exploring -the edge of the trap-door with his fingers he soon -discovered that there was no bolt, though there had evidently -been one at some time, for on a second search he felt an -iron socket let into one of the adjacent joists. He raised -himself on tiptoes and gently pushed at the door. It rose -slightly; clearly it was not fastened above. No glimmer -of moonlight came through the small gap between the trap -and the ceiling; therefore it did not give directly upon the -roof, but probably opened into an attic or loft. There was -nothing more to be discovered, and indeed he scarcely felt -that he needed to discover more, for his uneasiness had -already been largely dissipated by action. He lay down -again, and tried to sleep.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This time he was successful. How long he slept he did -not know. He suddenly awoke, and at the first moment -of consciousness remembered the ostler's tune; he -identified it now; it was something like Fanshawe's song of -"Widdicombe Fair". He was not enough of a musician -to decide how close was the resemblance; country songs -of different nations were, he supposed, often alike. Glad -that his puzzlement was gone, he settled himself once -more to sleep.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>All at once his senses were roused to full activity by the -sound of two or more horses approaching the inn, at a -walk, as he knew by the fall of the hoofs. It was very -late for travellers; besides, travellers would probably have -ridden up at a trot; he wondered who the riders could -be, and listened intently. In a few moments the sounds -ceased; then through the open window came the murmur -of low voices. Springing quietly out of bed, he went -to the window and peeped cautiously out. Five men -were leading their horses into the copse immediately -opposite to the inn. The short squat figure of one of -them reminded him of the farmer whom he had seen -with the landlord a few hours before; he seemed the -shorter by contrast with the next man, a tall massive -figure. They went quietly, and disappeared into the -copse; soon afterwards four of them emerged from the -trees and approached the inn. Not a word was spoken; -the men were apparently walking on tiptoe; but there -came the slight sound of a door opening and closing, then -dead silence again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>By this time Harry was as wide-awake as ever he had -been in his life. His uneasiness returned in full force, and -was now magnified into suspicion. The landlord's furtive -look and unsatisfactory manner; the story of the closing -of the gates of Urach; his lame explanation about the -room; the absence of a fastening to the trap-door; the -disappearance of the landlord's forbidding companion; the -reappearance of the same man with a number of others; -their stealthy movements, and the fact that they had tied -their horses up in the copse instead of bringing them into -the courtyard—all these were links in a chain of suspicious -circumstance, of little significance singly, but disturbing -when taken together. And the stableman's tune—what -did that mean? Was it actually the tune of "Widdicombe -Fair", and not merely one resembling it? Had the ostler -heard it from Fanshawe's lips? Was he on the track of -the explanation of the disappearance of one of -Marlborough's messengers?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Quickly and noiselessly Harry slipped on his clothes. -His first duty was, of course, to deliver the duke's letter; -nothing must interfere with that. His suspicions might -be utterly groundless, but on the other hand they might be -only too well justified. He must be on the safe side; it -was necessary to put himself out of harm's way.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Only one staircase led to his room: it sprang from the -narrow entrance-hall of the inn, on each side of which -were the doors of the rooms on the ground floor. He -could scarcely hope to be able to pass down, however -stealthily, without being discovered; and even if he did -succeed in this and left the inn, he would be immediately -seen by the fifth man, who, he guessed, had been left in -the copse to keep watch on the front door. The staircase -being given up, there remained only the window and the -trap-door. By placing the chair upon the bed and -mounting it he might manage to swing himself up through the -trap-door; but it flashed upon him that if any mischief -were intended the midnight visitors would certainly -approach through the attic or loft above. He remembered -passing, at the head of the stairs, a door which he had -taken to be that of a cupboard; it might be the entrance to -a stair leading to the loft, and if he tried that exit he would -certainly be in an even worse trap.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A glance from the window determined his choice. There -was a drop of about fifteen feet from it to the roof of the -outbuilding. In the moonlight he caught sight of what -appeared to be the top of a drain-pipe from the roof of this -lower building to the ground. The drain-pipe would form -an easy means of descent could he gain the roof. There -was only one way to do that: to descend by aid of a rope. -Without hesitation he drew the thin coverlet from the bed, -and tore it across the middle. Knotting the two pieces -together he rolled up a clumsy but serviceable rope. The -window was only two feet from the bed-post. He tied the -rope to this, slung his boots round his neck, wrapped his -scabbard in a corner cut from the blanket, to prevent its -clanking, and prepared to descend.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was fortunate that the window was already open, for -the creaking of the frame might have attracted attention. -There was a risk that the man in the copse might see him -as he got through the window; but the moon was now -above the house, and the overhanging roof cast a deep -shadow over all below.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He had his hand on the broad window-sill, preparing to -begin the descent, when an idea gave him pause. How -ridiculous he must appear if his suspicions turned out to -be baseless, and he had slunk like a thief from the house! -How humiliating would be his situation if he were caught -in the act and treated as a doubtful character! He could -not be suspected of stealing; there was nothing to steal; -but he might be thought to be running away without -paying. He could prevent that, at any rate. He put a -gold piece on the chair.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's double pay," he thought.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But still he hesitated. No man cares to look a fool, and -he would certainly look very foolish if his imagination -proved to have run away with him. But what is that? -A slight creak on the stairs, then another. Now a faint -rustle outside the door. Holding his breath he listens. -Yes, the supposed cupboard door is being opened; a -moment, then he hears the faint but unmistakable creak -of footsteps on the crazy stairs leading to the attic. He -hesitates no longer. In two minutes at the most the -intruders will have come through the trap-door into the -room. Throwing one leg over the window-sill, he grasps -his rope with one hand and the sill with the other; over -goes the other leg, and now he is hanging by the frail -rope. He feels the soft material yield to his weight; it is -stretched to its full extent; it holds! He needs it for only -a few feet. Down he glides: his feet touch the slates of -the outhouse; now he is in full view from the copse save -that a chimney-stack on the roof throws a black shadow all -around him. Will he escape notice? Keeping the chimney -between him and the copse he crawls slowly over the slates -and finds as he had hoped that the rain-water pipe is out -of sight. He slips over, grasps the pipe, and is half-way -down when there is a noise in the room above; and as his -feet at last touch the ground he sees two faces at the open -window and hears loud shouts.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He had already resolved on a risky experiment; it -appeared his only chance of escape. He had noticed that -the country around, though hilly, was bare of vegetation -except about the inn, where trees had been planted to -tempt wayfarers. He knew that as soon as he got away -from the buildings his figure would be seen in the bright -moonbeams, and he was bound to be ridden down. The -shouts from the window might be expected for the moment -to hold the attention of the man on the watch. Relying -on this, Harry darted across the road in the shadow of the -outbuildings and dived into the copse some twenty or -thirty yards from the place where the men had entered -with the horses. Bending low, moving rapidly, yet with -all possible caution, among the trees, he bore to the left -towards the single watcher, whom he could now hear on -the road shouting in answer to the men in the house. -Harry could not distinguish their words, but judged from -the vehemence of their tone and his own consciousness of -his design that they were bawling to the sentinel to return -to the horses he had left. It was a question which should -reach them first. The copse was almost dark; a glint of -light from the moon filtered through the foliage here and -there. Running in his stockings Harry made no noise; -but he could already hear the heavy trampling of the man -as he plunged through the trees somewhere to his left.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Suddenly he came to a narrow clearing; on the other -side he saw the horses tethered to the trees. Keeping just -within the edge of the copse he ran round at his utmost -speed towards the animals, and just before he reached -them saw that their guardian had arrived at the end of the -clearing nearest to the road and had stopped in the attitude -of listening. There was much hubbub from the direction -of the inn, and by the sounds Harry knew that several men -were crossing the road towards the copse. The horses -were between him and the solitary sentinel. Coming to -the nearest, he cast off its bridle, then, vaulting to the -saddle, he drew his sword and cut the bridles of the others, -which were standing head to head, loosely attached to the -projecting branch of a small tree. The man gave a shout -and rushed forward when he saw Harry on the horse. -It was a moment for quick decision. Smartly hitting the -four intervening horses with the flat of his sword, Harry -set them scampering through the edge of the copse. The -man could not evade them, and in a moment he was -knocked down. Harry meanwhile, trusting to the -darkness, followed on the heels of two horses which were -heading through the clearing towards the inn. At the -outer edge of the copse he was encountered by two men -who attempted to catch his rein. Toppling one over and -cutting at the other he gained the highway; then set his -borrowed steed to a gallop and rode on towards Urach. -"A near shave!" he thought. He stopped a few hundred -yards from the walls to put on his boots, then rode up to -the gate.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was shut, and he had some difficulty in rousing the -gatekeeper. When the man came at length to his summons, -he refused point-blank to allow the rider to enter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I can't wait," cried Harry. "Seek the officer of the -watch; I'll not answer for what may happen if you delay me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The gatekeeper went away grumbling and returned with -the lieutenant of the town guard, who held a pistol and -asked Harry's business.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am on a mission for my lord Marlborough," said -Harry. "This letter from his Excellency Count Wratislaw -will satisfy you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The officer tried to read the letter by the light of the -moon, but finding this impossible, waited until the -gate-keeper had lit his horn lantern. Then, having read the -letter, he ordered the man to open the gate.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Will you ride farther to-night, Monsieur?" he asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, I am dog tired," replied Harry. "Will you direct -me to a lodging?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Permit me to offer you the hospitality of my own -quarters. The inns are all closed, of course; you are a -very late traveller, Monsieur."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, I have been somewhat delayed on the road. If -you will give me sleeping quarters for a few hours I shall -be obliged to you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In less than a quarter of an hour he was fast asleep. -At four he was wakened, according to instructions given -before he turned in. Stiff and sore as he was, he meant -to ride on at once, for the sooner his mission was -completed the sooner would he have the opportunity of seeking -an explanation with the innkeeper, which he promised -himself should be a thorough one. The lieutenant of the -guard, a pleasant fellow, had a light breakfast ready, and -was eager to give information about the road. From him -Harry learnt that the highway to Biberach would lead -through the lines of Prince Louis of Baden. Though he -had no instructions to avoid the prince's army, he thought -it very probable that he would best serve the duke by -preventing gossip. So, finding that by diverging somewhat -to the right and taking the road by Riedlingen he would -pass outside Prince Louis's lines and lose little time, he -decided to adopt this course. Thanking his entertainer, -and promising to call on him on the way back, he set off -on his ride. Not a word had he said about his adventure -at the inn. It would be time to deal with that when his -duty was done.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Harry rode a hundred miles that day, reaching the town -of Immenstadt in the evening. He met with no adventure -on the way; he found ready service at the inns at which he -stopped to change horses, rest, and eat. But at the day's -end he felt all but worn out. The sun had shone brilliantly, -scorching his face, neck, and hands, and causing much -discomfort to his horses. They suffered, however, less than -he, for while the steeds were changed at short stages, the -rider was always the same. He got some little relief by -walking up the steepest hills along the road. His -physical state and his preoccupation made him oblivious of the -scenes through which he passed; afterwards he had but -the vaguest recollections of hill ridges, bosky dells, blue -lakes, and dark masses of rock, with a miry road winding -among them, and here and there inns where he was -thankful to rest awhile.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He slept that night at Immenstadt, rose reluctantly early -next morning, and started for what he hoped was the last -stage of his journey. About ten o'clock he arrived at the -little village of Obermiemingen. As he rode in, he noted -signs of excitement in the street. The whole population -seemed to be gathered about the inn. At the door stood -a heavy travelling coach with four horses, two of them -saddled for postilions. His arrival diverted the attention -of some of the peasants to himself, and they parted to -make way for him. Dismounting stiffly he went to the -inn-door and called for the host. After some time a servant -came to him and explained that mine host was engaged at -that moment with his Excellency Prince Eugene of Savoy, -who had driven up shortly before attended by two officers -and thirty troopers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then I am in luck's way," said Harry. "I have a -letter to his Excellency: conduct me to his room."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Two minutes later he found himself in the presence of -the renowned soldier: the man who, mocked at in the -French court as the "little abbé" and refused employment -by King Louis, had ever since lived for nothing else but to -prove himself a thorn in that monarch's side. He was of -somewhat less than the middle height, dark-complexioned, -with refined though not small features, and large flashing -eyes. Harry presented his letter; the prince having read -it, laughed and said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My lord Marlborough is anxious, Monsieur. But a -few hours ago I received a message from him—dated -several days back, it is true: you have had better fortune -than the first messenger. The letter was brought to me at -Innsprück by a farmer from the Swabian Alb; the courier, -an officer of my lord Marlborough, had fallen from his -horse, it appears, and being conveyed to a cottage the -children had made free with his wallet while he himself -lay insensible and their elders were attending upon him. -For myself, I suspect it was the elders who were curious. -But the letter contained no more than this one you have -brought, so their curiosity reaped but little gratification.—Now, -are you to carry my answer to my lord?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If your Excellency wishes," said Harry, "but my lord -duke told me I might use another hand if I were fatigued."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And that you certainly are. You must have come at -great speed, and I will not tax you further. Very well. I -am proceeding to Immenstadt; there I shall await a -communication from Vienna, and then go directly forward to -my meeting with the duke. I will acquaint him of my -design by a messenger of my own. Pray refresh yourself -now, Monsieur."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In a few minutes the prince drove off with his escort, -and Harry enjoyed a sort of reflected importance. He was -given the best the inn could afford, and provided, after -some delay and difficulty—his request was almost -incomprehensible to the landlord—with the luxury of a bath. -He remained in Obermiemingen until the heat of the day -had spent itself, then cantered easily back to Immenstadt, -where for the first time for many days he slept the -round of the clock. Reporting himself to Prince Eugene -next morning, he learnt that the expected messenger from -Vienna had not yet arrived, and having nothing to detain -him there he started on the road back. There was no need -for hurry; that day he rode seventy miles, to Riedlingen; -then next morning he went on to Urach, where he at once -looked up the amiable lieutenant of the guard who had -treated him so well on his way through.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You are back then, Monsieur?" said the lieutenant, -greeting him heartily. "I did not tell you before, but -the truth is I was not at all sure you would reach your -destination safely."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And you didn't wish to frighten me! But why, Monsieur?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There are bands of marauders in the hills; deserters, -broken men, and what not, ready to snap up any unsuspecting -traveller who promises to be worth it. They have -done much damage in the neighbourhood, robbing and -plundering undefended farms and hamlets, and though we -are strong enough here to beat them off we cannot risk an -expedition against them, and Prince Louis of Baden is too -much occupied, I suppose, to give any heed to our requests -for assistance."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, Monsieur," said Harry, "I was not ignorant of -what you have told me. And indeed I want to ask your -help in a matter not unconnected with it. Two messengers -from my lord Marlborough's army have disappeared somewhere -in these parts; I think I have a clue to their fate, and -wish to follow it up. Can you procure me the services of -a stout, sensible fellow to ride with me?—a man thoroughly -to be depended on, and one who will face danger if need be."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I know the very man," said the officer instantly; "one -Max Berens, who was servant to a French officer until the -beginning of the war, but, refusing to fight against his own -people, is now out of employment. He is a young fellow, -strong, honest, intelligent; I know him well. I will send -for him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Harry liked the look of Max Berens when he appeared. -He reminded him not a little of Sherebiah, of whom he -might have been a younger and a slighter copy. Max -readily accepted Harry's offer of a week's service, and -promised to be ready with horses at seven o'clock that -same evening.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At that hour the two rode north towards the wayside inn. -On the way Harry asked Max if he knew anything of the -landlord.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Little enough, Monsieur. He's a sly fellow, and -demands high prices; but there, the same could be said -of any innkeeper."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As they drew near the inn they made a detour, and, -entering the copse from the farther side, tied up their -horses and came through the trees. Dusk had already -fallen, and as the sky was overcast the evening was -blacker than is usual at the time of year. The inn was -in darkness except for a light in the kitchen. Followed -by Max, Harry emerged from the copse, crossed the road, -and rapped smartly on the closed door. It was opened -almost immediately by the landlord himself, who, seeing -two men on foot, and not recognizing Harry in the -darkness, said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come in, gentlemen. What are your commands? I -will bring a light in a moment."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Returning with a candle, he now saw who the first of -his visitors was, and looked very uncomfortable.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have very little in the house, Excellency——" he -began deprecatingly. Harry cut him short.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Pray don't be distressed. I left hurriedly—you -remember me, landlord?—and we have a little reckoning to -make together. It need not take long.—Max, stand at -the door, and see that our good host and I are not -disturbed.—Now, landlord, we will have a little talk." The -kitchen door was open and the room empty. "This will -do quite well; I repeat, we shall not remain long."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The man looked relieved, Harry thought; but he said -nothing, merely brushing a chair for his visitor. Harry -sat down, removed his hat, and leant back, stretching his -legs for comfort after his ride.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, landlord, I left your house somewhat hurriedly, I -fear, and at an unseemly hour."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The man shot a quick glance at him; but, having now -had time to collect his wits, assumed an air of friendly -concern, and began to speak with great volubility.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The noble Herr had indeed a miraculous escape. Your -excellency will remember—I told you of the marauders. -They are dangerous knaves; they stick at nothing; only -the other day they sacked and burnt a farmhouse in the -hills, and killed all the inmates—man, wife, three children, -and a dozen servants. Glad indeed was I to find that your -excellency had eluded them. They must have spied upon -your coming; yes, dangerous villains, I say. We should -have had troops to protect us, but his highness Prince -Louis—whom God defend!—cannot spare a man, it is -said, so hard is he pressed by the French; and we poor -Swabians are at the mercy of these robbers, the offscourings -of all the armies. Ah, your excellency, these are bad -times for us poor folk, bad times indeed; not that it -becomes me to complain when our noble rulers think it -necessary to make war; but it is the poor who suffer. It is we -who are taxed to keep the soldiers afoot; the bread is -taken out of our children's mouths; we are murdered and -robbed, our houses are plundered and burned——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Except in your case, mein Wirth," said Harry, interrupting -the man's hurried, nervous, inconsequent speech. -"You seem very comfortable here; I see no signs of -plunder or burning."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, your excellency, they—they—they were disturbed."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Disturbed!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Did I say disturbed? I meant alarmed—alarmed, -mein Herr. Your excellency's escape—for which Heaven -be thanked!—caused them to hurry off;—yes, to hurry off, -for, of course, they feared the guard from Urach; that is -how it was: your excellency understands?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Perfectly. And which way did they go?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Which way, your excellency?" The man's tone was -expressive of the greatest surprise: he was gaining -confidence. "How should I know? They galloped away; -that was all I knew——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah! And where did they get the horses?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The horses! the horses! Ah yes! the horses." Mine -host was now floundering desperately. "Why, of course, -they caught the horses and then galloped away—you -understand?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Excellently. And my horse—you have that in your -stable still?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Your horse! Yes, of course; it must be there; I will -go and saddle it myself for your excellency."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not so fast. There is no hurry, my friend. They -caught the horses and galloped away. And where are -they now?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What strange questions, Excellency! Where are they -now? How should I know! It is announced they went -away towards Ulm: one can never tell with such wretches: -they are here to-day and gone to-morrow. To look for -them would be like looking for a needle in a haystack."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's a pity, landlord; I fear you must make up your -mind for a long search."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A search! I, Excellency?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, you. And we will, if you please, start at once."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Harry said this in the same quiet matter-of-fact tone in -which he might have said, "I will have breakfast at -eight". The landlord looked dumbfounded, his head -hanging forward, his eyes fixed in a wild stare upon the face -of the visitor. Harry sat up in his chair and spoke very -slowly and distinctly, leaving time for the words to sink in.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have come, landlord, either to find our midnight -disturbers, or to deliver you in their stead to the -magistrates of Urach. Which it is to be depends entirely on -you. No; it is useless to protest"—the man was rubbing -his hands nervously together, and stammering an -expostulation—"I have the strongest proof that you were -associated with the villains in the trap set for me three nights -ago. You can make your choice between returning with -me to Urach, where there is plenty of rope and a serviceable -gallows-frame in the market square; and yielding me -sincere and instant help in the little enquiry I am about to -make. I do not wish to hurry you: you shall have a few -minutes to think it over. Bring me a cup of wine."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The man moved to the cupboard as in a dream. Harry -took the cup he offered, and as he sipped it, watched the -landlord return the bottle mechanically to its place on the -shelf, take up a plate and put it down again, cut half -through a loaf of bread and leave the knife in it, flick -imaginary crumbs from the clear table. He looked like -a rat in a trap. He glanced at the window, then at the -door, and appeared for a moment to measure his chances -in a struggle. But Harry's air of confident self-possession, -and the knowledge that a sturdy henchman held the door -within a few feet of him, daunted any impulse to active -resistance. At length, drawing a napkin nervously through -his fingers, and trying to assume an air of dignified -forbearance, he said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am in your excellency's hands. I protest; but since -you doubt me, I am willing to accompany your excellency -to Urach, and prove my innocence to the magistrates. I -am well known in Urach, and permit me to say, I shall -require good compensation when you are forced to admit -your mistake."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Your expectation shall not be disappointed," said -Harry quietly. "We will, then, start at once."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But it will be near midnight when we arrive, your -excellency being on foot——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You have my horse in your stable, I thought?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I was mistaken,—a moment's forgetfulness, mein -Herr. The horse—the other day—I mean——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, I understand. Nevertheless, we will start at once."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But, Excellency, nothing can be done until the morning. -If you will wait——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"For another visit from your friends? no."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not my friends, Excellency. I am an honest man. -But as you will. I will awaken the ostler and leave him -in charge of the inn."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He made quickly towards the door, but Harry, who had -seen through all his attempts to gain time and make an -opportunity to get away, interposed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ring your bell there: that will waken him. But you -will not leave him in charge of the house: he will come -with us, and your servant also. The inn shall be shut up, -and I doubt not your good fortune in escaping the -attentions of the marauders will still hold. I will give you -five minutes to get ready."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The landlord, seeing that his last hope of communicating -with his friends was gone, recognized that the -game was up. His assurance collapsed; he became -merely sullen.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What is it that your excellency wishes me to do?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"As I said: first to choose between complying with my -demands and facing a public trial for treason at Urach."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What are your excellency's demands?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"First make your choice."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Your excellency will guarantee my safety if I comply?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I cannot answer for that; but I will do what I can."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The man's face gave signs of a final mental struggle; -then he said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I will do as your excellency wishes."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A wise choice: it gives you a chance of saving your -neck; there is none at all the other way. A few questions -first. How many travellers—let us say officers of the -English army—have you trapped as you tried to trap me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The man hesitated.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Quick!" cried Harry, "no paltering now. You know -the alternative."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"One, your excellency," was the reluctant, sullen -admission.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And what became of the other?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He was waylaid on the road."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The first, or the second?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The second."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And the officer captured here—what was he like? -Was he tall or short?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He was tall, Excellency, with fair hair and blue eyes. -He was always whistling."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"These officers—where were they taken to?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"To the hills."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In what direction?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Towards Geislingen."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where are they now?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The man dropped his eyes and fidgeted. He had been -growing restive under this examination; his tone had -become more and more sullen.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I—I don't know, Excellency," he stammered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come, refresh your memory. Remember—they have -to be found; I must have an answer, and an exact -description of the spot: out with it!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The landlord could hardly have looked more uncomfortable -if a thumb-screw had been applied. For a few -moments he strove with himself; then muttered:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't know: the castle of Rauhstein—when I last -heard."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And when was that?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yesterday."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The castle will not have moved, eh? Where is it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"About ten miles away."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who owns it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nobody: it is a ruin. The land belongs to the Graf -von Rauhstein."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But it is not so much a ruin that it cannot shelter your -friends. How many do they number?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Two hundred or more."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What are they?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"All kinds: soldiers, outlaws—French, Bavarian, Swabian."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And who commands them?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A Bavarian captain: by his speech, a foreigner born."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That is enough, I think. We will prepare to start."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"To start, Excellency! Whither?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"For the castle."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But—but, Excellency," stammered the man, "you do -not mean it? You would not venture there, you and I and -two men? You—we—they would murder us all."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We must risk that. As for you, your risk will be -equally great, or greater, if you stay here: if the two -officers are not safe in Urach by to-morrow night, a detachment -will be sent to arrest you. You understand?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The landlord was chapfallen and pallid with mingled -fears. On the one hand, the vengeance of the associates -he had been constrained to betray; on the other, the -retribution of the burghers of Urach.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Excellency," he said falteringly, "I have given -you information. You have promised to guarantee my -safety——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," interrupted Harry; "I said I would do what -I could."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I trust to you, Excellency: you will have mercy upon -a poor man; in these days it is hard to live; I did not -mean any harm to the officers; I insisted their persons -should not be injured: I was under compulsion, fearing——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Enough!" said Harry, to whom the man's cringing -and whining were more distasteful than his former -attitude. "Give my man the key of your stable: he will -saddle your horse. We shall not need to awaken your -servant, after all. You will lead the way to the castle. -And one word before we start: try to mislead us or play -us false, and you will be immediately shot. I give you -my word for that. Now, put on your hat."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-castle-of-rauhstein"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XX</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">The Castle of Rauhstein</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="small">The Hidden Way—In the Fosse—Below the Dungeons—Out of -the Depths—A Sleeping Castle—The Stairway in the -Keep—Counting the Chickens—The Battlements—A -Breakneck Descent—A Friendly Shower—A Narrow -Margin—Eugene Laughs—A Bold Stroke—Eugene's -Double—"Our Good Prince Eugene"—Mein Wirth as -Postilion—An Empty Pistol</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>It was about nine o'clock, and a dark night, when Harry -with his two companions set off on horseback towards -the castle of Rauhstein. When Harry mentioned their -destination to Max, the man said that he had known the -district from boyhood, and was well acquainted with the -castle and its precincts, so that it was unnecessary to take -the landlord as guide. But the latter could not be left -to himself except under lock and key, and Harry decided -that it would be at once safer and more convenient to have -him with them. Max led the way along a horse-track -that zigzagged over the limestone hills, Harry followed -with the landlord, their horses being securely linked -together. Harry had unbuttoned his holsters, displaying -two pistols; the sight of them, he felt, would keep the -landlord on his good behaviour.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The track was tortuous, skirting rugged spurs of rock, -crossing narrow ravines, and here and there a mountain -brook, passing through black clumps of beech forest that -dotted the slope. The riders were surrounded by a vast -silence, broken only by the cries of night birds and the -croak of frogs in the pools. The horses' shoes clicked on -the hard ground; it would clearly not be safe to approach -too close to the castle on horseback, and as they rode -Harry quietly asked the landlord how the ruin was -situated, and whether there was any cover within a secure -distance. He learnt that the castle was built against the -hill-side, so that it was inaccessible from the rear; it was -almost wholly in ruins, but the keep and one or two -adjacent parts had been recently made habitable by the -marauders. There was a fosse, now dry; the drawbridge -had disappeared, and was replaced by a rough bridge of -planks. The landlord knew of no entrance but this; it -was guarded day and night, but no watch was kept on -any other part of the building. There were no trees in -the immediate neighbourhood of the castle, but about half -a mile before it was reached an extensive plantation of -beech covered a valley to the right of the track, and in -this the horses could be left.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was past eleven before the three riders reached the -beech plantation. There alighting, they tied their horses -to trees well within the clump, and proceeded on foot. It -occurred to Harry that if the animals chanced to whinny -they might be heard by any member of the garrison who -happened to be without the walls; but Max told him that -the two tracks leading to the castle from the Urach -highroad were both a considerable distance to right and left -of the hill path by which they had come, so that there was -little fear of such an untoward accident.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They climbed up the path in silence, the darkness being -so deep that they could not distinguish the outline of -anything more than a few yards away. It was therefore -almost unawares that Max himself, for all his knowledge -of the country, came upon the main road into which the -track ran, about a quarter of a mile from the castle. -Here he stopped.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Monsieur," he said, "I heard what the landlord said -to you. It is all true; but though he speaks only of the -entrance by the plank bridge, I know, and he may know -too, of another—one that I discovered by chance, -rambling here with some comrades many years ago. It is a -small broken doorway opening from the fosse, much -overgrown with bush and trees, and indeed so well hidden -that I almost doubt whether I could find it after this -long time."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, Max, you must try. I don't want you to go -into the castle yourself: I suppose you have not seen it -since the marauders have sheltered there?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, Monsieur."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then I must go myself. The fosse is dry, you say?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, Monsieur."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then we can all three go down into it, and the landlord -and I will remain hidden while you search for the -secret entrance. Whither does it lead?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"To a tunnel that rises gradually up the hill, and enters -the castle near the dungeons below the keep."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Lead on, then. We will go to the left, and walk -warily to escape the ears of the sentry at the gate."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In a few minutes they came to the edge of the fosse. -They clambered carefully down, assisting their steps by -the young trees which thickly covered the steep side. -When they reached the bottom, Max went forward by -himself to explore. His movements caused a rustle, but -being followed by the scurrying of rabbits disturbed in the -brake, such slight customary noises were not likely to -alarm the sentry, even if he should near them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Harry had his hand on the landlord's wrist as they -waited minute after minute. Max was gone a long time. -All was silent now save for the murmurs of birds and the -chirping of insects. At length, after what seemed to -Harry's impatience hours of delay, the man groped his -way back, and whispered:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have found it, Monsieur."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That is well. Now lead us to it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You will not take me into the castle, Excellency?" -murmured the landlord in affright.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Have no fear. Be silent."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The three went into the tangled mass of tree and shrub, -and Max had no difficulty now in taking a pretty direct -path to the opening of the tunnel. When the bushes were -pulled aside, they revealed to the touch—for to see was -impossible—an arch of crumbling brickwork not more -than five feet high. Evidently a man could not walk -upright through the tunnel.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Did you ever get into the castle this way?" asked Harry.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, Monsieur, but it was fifteen years ago."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So that the tunnel may be blocked now?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Certainly."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Or it may be the haunt of wild beasts?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nothing wilder than rabbits, I should think."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, it is not too pleasant a task to crawl through -there in the dark, but it must be done. Now, Max, you -will return to the place where we left our horses; the -landlord will go with you. Here is one of my pistols; you -know what to do with it if need be. Wait for me there: -if I do not come to you within say a couple of hours, ride -to Urach, and tell the lieutenant of the guard what has -happened."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Max hesitated.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Let me go, Monsieur," he said. "Why should you -run into the jaws of danger? They are desperate men, -these brigands."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thank you, Max! but it is my task. Do my bidding, -my good fellow; I have counted the cost."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He waited until the two men had crept away; then, -crushing the feeling of eeriness that affected him in -spite of himself, he bent his head and went forward into -the tunnel. There was at once a scurry of animals past -his legs; he felt the furry coats and tails of rabbits brush -his hands; but he went slowly forward, touching the wall -at his right to guide himself, and wondering how long the -tunnel was, and whether there was enough air to carry -him through to the end. The atmosphere was stuffy, with -mingled smells so nauseating that Harry quickened his -pace, eager to escape into purer air again. He had not -thought to count his steps when he first entered the -tunnel, but began to do so after taking about a dozen. -At the fortieth of his counting the wall to his right came -to an end. He stopped, and, raising his hand above his -head, found that it was not obstructed by the roof: he -had evidently come to the end of the passage. He stood -upright and listened; he could hear nothing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Extending his arms, he found that he was in a narrow -passage. Max had said that the tunnel led below the -keep: there must, then, be a staircase somewhere. Harry -went cautiously forward, stopping at every few steps to -listen, and placing his feet with great care to avoid coming -unawares upon some obstacle. At length his foot touched -what felt like a stone step in front of him; another -moment, and he was sure he had come to the expected -staircase. It was pitch dark; he mounted carefully, and found -that the stairs wound round and round. He had just -counted fifteen steps, when his head came into violent -contact with something above. The blow brought tears -to his eyes, and he rubbed his head vigorously, as he had -been wont to do after a knock in his childish days.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Feeling with his hands, he discovered that the staircase -was roofed over with stone. It appeared to be a slab let -down into sockets; yet no, on the left side there was a -space of about a finger-width between the stone and the -wall, on the right there was no such space. He paused; -the stone was so broad that to lift it was clearly -impossible; it had never been intended to be moved from below. -He bent his head, hitched his left shoulder, and shoved -hard against the stone. It did not yield by the smallest -interval. For a moment he was puzzled. Then a possible -explanation of the space between the stone and the wall -at the left occurred to him. Perhaps the stone moved on -a pivot? He went to the other side and set his right -shoulder to it. At first he felt no yielding; but exerting -all his strength he shoved again, the stone slowly gave, -and with continued pressure moved over until it came -to a vertical position, leaving space enough for his body -to pass through. He ascended, keeping his hand on the -stone to prevent it from falling back noisily into its place, -clambered on to the floor above, let the stone carefully -down, and stood up to collect himself before proceeding -farther.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Now that he had come thus far, he felt a chill shrinking -from what lay before him. He was alone in a strange -place, within a few feet of desperate and unscrupulous -ruffians, who would kill him with no more compunction -than they would spit a hare. The unknown peril might -well give the bravest pause. But a thought of his duty -stilled his tremors. He had a duty of service to -Marlborough, and a duty of friendship to Fanshawe; -remembering them, he steeled his soul.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>If his hazardous visit was to prove of any service he -must discover the nature and position of the defences. -He knew little about the construction of castles, but Max -had said that the entrance led to the keep, which was the -only part of the ruin still habitable. The inmates must -therefore be somewhere near him, and it behoved him to -move warily. He was apparently in a stone-flagged -passage. He took off his boots and slung them round his -neck; then went forward a few steps, and came upon -another passage at right angles, the farther end being -faintly lit as from a distance. Stealing down this, he saw -on his right hand the arched entrance to what was clearly -the great hall of the keep, a long bare chamber illuminated -by two or three smoky candles. Along the walls lay a -number of men, sleeping on mattresses, cloaks, bundles -of straw. At the farther end was a large table, at which -two men were seated, bending forward with heads on their -crossed arms, as though dozing. The table was covered -with pots and tankards and metal plates. Taking this in -at one swift glance, Harry turned to see what lay in the -other direction.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A few feet from him was the bottom of another winding -stair, which, he conjectured, led to the top of the keep. -In the wall to his right there was a narrow opening giving -on the courtyard, where he heard the movements of many -horses. He was wondering whether, finding the doorway -into the courtyard, he might venture to steal across it and -explore the other side, when he heard voices from the hall -behind him. Quick as thought he slipped back into the -dark passage he had first entered, and waited there with -beating heart. Peeping round the corner, he saw two -men—doubtless the two who had been bending over the table—pass -as if towards the staircase. He heard their spurred -boots ringing on the stones, and knew by the sounds that -they were ascending the stairs, to relieve guard, he guessed, -at the top of the keep. There was evidently nothing to be -discovered by remaining where he was; if he followed the -men he might find a means of exploring the upper part of -the fortress. He ran lightly along the passage, and began -the ascent of the winding stair, finding himself soon in -total darkness. But after about a dozen steps the -staircase began to be faintly illuminated from above. Harry -paused for a moment to listen. He heard nothing but -the footsteps of the men who had preceded him, and was -just going on when, through a loophole in the wall to his -right, he heard the clatter of a horse's hoofs and the shout -of a man. He held his breath and stood still. The horse -had evidently just come over the bridge and through the -archway into the courtyard. There were now sounds of -many voices below; the hoof-beats suddenly ceased, and -shortly afterwards Harry heard hurried footsteps on the -stone passage he had lately left, and voices growing in -volume and echoing in the circular space of the winding -stair. Several men were ascending. If he remained where -he was he must inevitably be detected; his only course -was to continue his ascent. But he had not taken three -steps before he heard footsteps above him; the sentry who -had been relieved was coming down. His heart was in -his mouth. But the men below were the nearer; there -was just a chance that if he went higher he might come -upon some temporary hiding-place, and in his stocking -feet he made no sound that would betray him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Up then he went; the light was becoming stronger; -and a turn of the staircase brought him opposite the -doorway through which it shone. The door was gone. He -hesitated but for a moment; below and above him the -footsteps were perilously near; on the wall of the room -he saw two long military cloaks hanging to the floor; -they would conceal him. Peeping into the room, he -noted with one rapid glance a smoky guttering candle -and a figure recumbent on a mattress. He went in on -tiptoe, and slipped behind the cloaks. The slight rustle -he made disturbed the slumbering man.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Qui va la?" came the sleepy question.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Harry stood still as a stone, and felt his heart thumping -against his ribs.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Qui va la?" repeated the voice in a louder tone, and -by the increased light in the narrow crack between the -cloak and the wall Harry guessed that the man had risen -on his elbow and snuffed the candle. An answering voice -came from the doorway.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sebald Schummel, mon capitaine."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah! Bien! Donnez-moi de vos nouvelles."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Harry felt a cold shiver down his back, and an impulse -to pull aside the cloak and confirm by sight the evidence -of his hearing. The voice was the voice of Captain -Aglionby. Here was a discovery indeed. But he had -scarcely time even to be surprised, for he was listening -intently to a conversation that absorbed all his thought.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The prince has arrived in Urach," said the new-comer. -"He leaves at five in the morning on his way to -Stuttgart. He travels by coach."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah! what is his escort?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Two aides-de-camp and thirty dragoons, mon capitaine."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A bagatelle! The game is ours!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, mon capitaine," said another voice; "he will not -easily escape us."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Parbleu! He shall not. You are sure of the hour, Sebald?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, Monsieur; and I have left a trusty man to send -us word if it is altered."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He is not likely to change his route?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There is no reason for it, mon capitaine, and our men -are watching every road."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good! Your news is welcome, Sebald. Go and eat; -I will consult with Monsieur le Lieutenant here; you shall -have your orders by and by."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Two or three men left the room, and the captain was -alone with his lieutenant and Harry. The latter had -already heard enough to set all his wits on the alert. -The conversation that ensued, though carried on by both -the speakers in continuance of a former discussion, gave -Harry little trouble to understand. It was evident that -the marauders under Captain Aglionby's lead were -planning to intercept Prince Eugene on his way to meet -Marlborough, and Harry listened with a flutter at the heart as -all the details were arranged. The ambuscaders, divided -into three bands, were to station themselves at a point -about two miles north of the wayside inn, where the road -narrowed. Two of the bands were to conceal themselves -in the woods on either side of the road, the third some -distance behind them, towards the inn, to cut off any -escape rearwards.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Monsieur le Prince will sleep hard to-morrow," said -Aglionby with a chuckle, when he had arranged the -composition of the bands. "Now, as we must start in an -hour or two, do you go down and rouse the men; I will -follow in a minute and give them their orders. What sort -of night is it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Dull, with a threat of rain."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah! we shall want our cloaks. Well, rouse the men; -our bird will have his feathers clipped long ere this -to-morrow."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Harry had gone cold at the mention of the cloaks, and -gripped his pistol. But the lieutenant went from the room -without disturbing him, and Aglionby shortly afterwards -followed. Harry heaved a silent sigh of relief, waited -until the sound of his footsteps had quite died away, then -left his hiding-place and hastened to the staircase.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was in no doubt what to do. To descend, now that -the garrison was awakened, would be to court instant -detection. The alternative was to go higher up the keep, -and endeavour to find some way of escape over the ruined -battlements. He mounted a few steps; the moon had -risen, and her light, fitfully shining between masses of -flying scud in the sky, lit up the staircase through the -narrow openings at intervals in the wall. A few steps -more, and on his right Harry saw a low doorway, this also -without a door, leading directly on to the battlements. -He peered up the outer wall of the keep, and saw that -a sentinel at the top must almost certainly descry a figure -moving along below. But escape he must; Prince Eugene -must be warned in time, and Urach was several miles -away. He longed for a friendly cloud to obscure the -moon while he made a dash; and, pat to his wish, a dark -mass of thunderous density cut off every gleam. Without -another moment's delay Harry sprang on to the broken -masonry, and, taking sure foothold in his stocking feet, ran -towards a tower at the left-hand corner of the enceinte, -hoping there to find an exit. The upper part of the tower -was almost wholly in ruins, but the lower part was in -good preservation, and to his disappointment Harry found -that the only doorway led into the courtyard, in which he -already heard the bustle of preparation. There was nothing -for it but to pursue his way along the battlements to the -tower at the right-hand rear corner. Entering this, he -discovered a postern on the outer wall. It was twenty -feet above the summit of a steep slope leading to the level -ground a hundred yards away. Harry looked out, and -saw that below the postern the masonry had crumbled and -fallen, and was now covered with undergrowth and ivy -clinging to the tower wall. To make his descent here he -would have to risk a broken limb, perhaps a broken neck, -but there was no other means of exit that he could -discover, and it was necessary that he should get quickly -away with Max and the landlord before the marauding -band rode out. Clinging to a strong tendril of ivy, he -leapt on to a precarious corner of broken brickwork, lost -his footing, checked his fall by clutching at a shrub, found -a firmer foothold a little below, and so made the complete -descent to the edge of the slope, where he stayed his -progress by again grasping the ivy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The air was warm and close, foreboding thunder, and -by this time Harry was bathed in sweat. He rested for -a few moments at the foot of the wall. The jagged -masonry had cut holes in his stockings and made his feet -bleed. Between him and level ground was a steep -declivity of almost bare rock, so precipitous that to walk -down it was impossible, to run dangerous. He pulled on -his boots, lay on his back, and slid down feet foremost, -with some bumps and bruises, but with more serious -injury to his apparel. As he reached the level a loud -rumble of thunder broke above him, and he felt the first -large spots of a shower. He was far from the place -where he had left his companions, and to reach it he -would have to cross the direct road to the castle gate. -To avoid discovery it seemed best to creep down into the -dry overgrown fosse, and steal his way along until he -gained the spot on the other side of the plank bridge -where he had descended to find the tunnel. Even under -the bridge the vegetation was rank and thick enough to -conceal him, and he had no fear of his movements being -heard, for the rain was now pattering fast. This, then, -he did; in a few minutes he came to the place where he -had parted with Max, and, scrambling up the side of the -fosse, struck into the road and hastened towards the trees. -He wandered for some time among them without finding -the men of whom he was in search, and at length risked -a low call.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is that you, Monsieur?" came the reply in Max's -voice from near at hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah! I was afraid I had lost you. Have you the -landlord safe?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, Monsieur. I had almost given you up."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Lead out the horses. We must get to Urach as -quickly as possible. And not by the road: do you know -a way across the hills?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, but it will be difficult to find in the dark, and -hark to the rain!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, it is raining hard, but you must try to find the -way; I dare not risk the road. Lead on, Max; I will -follow you with the landlord."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Max led his horse through the wood, the others close -behind him. Crossing the road, he entered a narrow -ravine, left this at a cleft on the right, and taking a -tortuous course, rising continually, he came after some -twenty minutes to the crest of a rocky hill.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is all right, Monsieur," he said. "The way is -easier now and we can mount. The rain is over, too."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well for us! Now, Max, at your best pace, provided -it is not neck-breaking."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The three set off, the landlord uttering many groans -and lamentations as he jolted in his saddle. Harry did -not address him; he had too much to think of. If, as -Aglionby's messenger had said, there were spies in Urach -and around, it was likely that the entrance of three riders -into the town at so late an hour would be noticed, and -might awaken suspicion. Harry's wish was not merely to -foil the ambuscade, but to turn the tables on the -ambuscaders. As he rode he decided what to do.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Max," he said, riding alongside of the man where a -difficult part of the track caused a slackening of the pace; -"Max, tell me when we come within about half a mile -of the town; we will halt there."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We leave the hills and strike the road at that distance, -Monsieur."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Very well; we will stop before we reach the road."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was two o'clock in the morning when the three riders -came to a halt within a little dell concealed from the road -by an intervening hillock.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Remain here with the landlord and my horse, Max," -said Harry. "I am going on foot to the town."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At the gate-house he gave the password and was at -once admitted. He went to the lodging of the lieutenant -of the guard, woke him, and told him in a few words -what he had discovered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mon Dieu!" cried the lieutenant, "you are just in time. -The prince decided last night to hasten his going; he sets -off at four. He will have to remain here, or go back, for -his escort are no match for these brigands, even with our -burgher guard, who in any case are not permitted to leave -the town. The prince must either wait here until he can get -a force from Prince Louis of Baden, or try another road."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The roads are watched. But I think the prince had -better carry out his original intention and leave here at -five."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But he will certainly be captured."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not certainly. I should like to see him. I left Max -and that rascal of a landlord half a mile out. The town is -quiet; do you think it will be safe to send for them?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh yes! I will do that. You will find the prince at -the Rathhaus."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Will you lend me a change of things while mine are drying?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Of course! The sleeves of my coat will be short for -you, I fear, but you will not need it long."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>To change was but the work of a few minutes; then -Harry hastened to the Rathhaus. The guard made some -demur to admitting him at such an hour, but yielded when -he assured them that his message was urgent, and he was -conducted to an aide-de-camp, who on hearing his story in -outline did not scruple to awaken the prince. Harry was -not prepared for the reception his news met with. The -prince broke into a roar of laughter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A right tit-for-tat for the Duke de Vendôme," he said. -"Two can play at coney-catching! You are surprised at -my levity, young sir; but the truth is, I tried to play the -same game on the duke two years ago: attempted to seize -him in his house at Rivalto on the banks of the Lake of -Mantua. I sent fifty men in boats to capture him; but -they killed the sentinel instead of carrying him off, as I -intended; the noise drew the guard to the spot, and my -men had to re-embark to save their skins. Well, in war -let him trick the other who can: I am obliged to you for -your warning. Un homme averti en vaut deux: we'll be -even with the tricksters. What shall we do, lieutenant?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It would seem that we must take another road, -Monsieur le Prince," said the aide-de-camp.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ma foi, non; we'll cut our way through them. I -never turned back on my enemy yet."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They are too many, your highness. Your thirty men -could not cut their way through two hundred."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then we must go another way."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They have spies on the roads, Monsieur," said Harry. -"Your highness would have to make a wide detour, and -that would give the brigands plenty of time to sweep -round and intercept you. If I might suggest a plan that -occurred to me——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Go on."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is that your highness's coach should set off at the -time arranged, attended by a portion of your escort——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Empty?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not so, Monsieur. A man might take your highness's -place. The brigands would imagine their scheme was -prospering; the scouts would be drawn off; and after an -interval your highness with the remainder of the escort -could safely take the western road and be well on the way -to Stuttgart before the trick was discovered."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Aha! And who is to personate me? Not yourself? -You have too great an advantage of me in inches."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My ambition is less, your highness. I have a man -of about your height; if you would deign to let him wear -your wig, hat, and cloak for a few hours, I think he would -make a personable copy of your highness."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The prince laughed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, you have a ready wit, my lad. But it would be -running into the jaws of the wolves; I should lose half my -escort and my coach, and you and your man your lives. -They would not spare you when they learnt how you had -tricked them."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It would be a cheap purchase of your highness's -safety. Besides, I think we might manage to escape the -wolves, as your highness is pleased to call them."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Indeed! Come, you are a young strategist; what -have you in your mind?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"To get into the castle, Monsieur le Prince, while the -greater part of the brigands are absent, and to hold it -until a force can be sent from Stuttgart to our assistance."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A bold scheme, by my faith! What reason have you -to suppose you could surprise the castle? It will not be -left unguarded."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then Harry gave a rapid narrative of what had -happened since his adventure at the inn. Prince Eugene -listened with close attention, his eyes lighting up with -excitement and pleasure as he heard the details of the -plan Harry had thought out as he rode from the castle.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Parbleu!" he exclaimed at the end, "a bold scheme -indeed, one after my own heart; I should like of all things -to be with you in it. And you think my cousin -Marlborough's two messengers are now in the castle?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have no doubt of it, your highness; and as one of -them is an old friend of my own, I have a strong personal -reason for making the attempt."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, I will not stay you. Rather I will say, Good -luck to you! You deserve to succeed. I make no doubt -that I shall be able to send you from Stuttgart a squadron -or two of Prince Louis of Baden's horse, and if you and -they can annihilate this pestilent band of outlaws you will -do a service to the Emperor—a service that I shall take -care is not forgotten. Time is pressing; my valet shall -give you the suit I wore yesterday; I shall not need to -trouble your man to lend me his in exchange, as I have -another with me—a plain costume that will tell no tales. -Ma foi! I could wish that for the next twelve hours he -were Eugene of Savoy and I—what is his name?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Max Berens, Monsieur."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Write his name, Lieutenant; if he were a courtier he -would doubtless be content with the bare honour of filling -my clothes for the nonce, but being a sensible man he -will prefer a more tangible recompense. I shall see to it. -Well, you have woke me from sleep, Monsieur; now I will -ask you to leave me while I dress. And as we must be -secret about this disguise, lest there be spies in the town, -I shall not see you again until I meet you, as I hope to -do, in my lord Marlborough's camp. Send your man here; -I will take care that he is treated with the deference -becoming his rank. Ha! ha! it is an excellent joke."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Harry went away delighted with the readiness with -which the prince had entered into the spirit of his scheme. -It was full of danger; he was under no illusion as to that; -but this lent an additional zest to the adventure; he had -thought out his plan carefully, and reckoned on finding an -invaluable coadjutor in the landlord.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At five o'clock, in the cool of a fine morning, the prince's -gilded coach drew up at the door of the Rathhaus, with -fifteen dragoons in full riding trim. A carpet was spread -from the entrance across the path to the coach, and one of -the town officials stood in waiting to show the great man -to his seat. By and by a figure in cocked hat, full wig, -laced coat, and corslet came out with a fair counterfeit of -Eugene's active gait; he gave a somewhat stiff acknowledgment -of the salutes of the soldiers and the respectful -obeisance of the local magnates and the crowd of -interested townspeople, and stepped quickly into the coach. -Harry followed him. The door was shut, the word given -to the two postilions, and amid the cheers of all Urach -the vehicle rattled over the stones, out at the gate, into -the open highway. No one but the principals in the little -drama, and the fifteen picked men of the escort, knew that -the man to whom they had just shown such deference was -not Eugene of Savoy, a prince of a sovereign house, but -Max Berens, the simple son of a shoemaker.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Harry had been at the pains to drill his companions -in the part they were to play. He had learnt from Max -that there were two roads leading from the main highway -to the castle. Of these the one nearest to Urach was -the better; it branched off about a mile on the town side -of the inn. The other was a more circuitous and difficult -track across the hills, leaving the highroad at a point -rather more distant from the inn on the farther side, and -only a few yards from the spot chosen for the ambuscade. -Between the two cross-roads the highway took a somewhat -irregular course, and while it was visible from point -to point, only a few yards of the intervening portion could -be seen from either of the by-roads, owing to its windings -and the undulations of the ground. When the coach, -therefore, should arrive at the first road it would be -descried by the ambuscaders, but would then disappear -from their view, not becoming visible again until a short -distance before it reached them. On this fact Harry -reckoned for the successful accomplishment of the first -part of his scheme.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A mile out of Urach, Harry found the landlord awaiting -him in charge of one of the town guard. He was taken -into the coach, which then drove rapidly on. On arriving -at the cross-road, instead of going straight forward towards -the inn and the ambush, it swung round to the right, and -at Harry's orders the postilions whipped up the horses and -drove at a headlong pace towards the castle. The actual -turning could not be seen from the place of the ambuscade, -and Harry confidently expected that the brigands, having -caught sight of the coach the moment before it left the -road, would await its coming without suspicion. Its -non-appearance after a time would surprise them; they might -suppose it had stopped at the inn to bait the horses; they -would allow for this, and a considerable time would elapse -before they discovered the truth. This interval would, he -hoped, give him so long a start that he would have ample -time to play his trick upon the garrison.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>About half a mile from the castle, Harry ordered the -postilions and escort to halt at a spot where they were -hidden from the garrison by a stretch of rising ground. -He then dismounted four of the dragoons, bade them get -into the coach, and made the landlord change places with -the postilion on one of the sear horses. In his hand he -placed an empty pistol.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"When we drive on," he said, "you will point that -at the back of the postilion in front of you, and look as -grim as you please. When we come within earshot of -the sentry at the bridge—I will give the word—you will -shout to him to let us through quickly: 'Here we are!' -you will cry. I have let down the window, you observe; -Berens will be a few feet behind you with a loaded pistol: -you understand?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then turning to the eleven dragoons who were still on -horseback, he said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now, men, you know your part. Wait till we are -over the bridge, then gallop up at full speed with sabres -drawn and pistols cocked, ready for anything."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What about the four horses, Herr Capitan?" asked -one of the troopers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We must leave them. Tie their heads together -and string them to that tree yonder: we may get them -by and by; if not, the coach horses will serve. Now; -all ready! Drive on, landlord."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The two postilions—the foremost a stalwart dragoon—whipped -up the horses, which dashed forward at a furious -gallop towards the castle. It was a tight squeeze in the -coach—Harry, Max, and the four big troopers jammed -together in a narrow space.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Level your pistol, landlord!" cried Harry.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The pale perspiring landlord held his harmless weapon -in his left hand, covered by the loaded pistol of Max in -the coach. On they drove, ploughing up the soil heavy -with last night's rain, the horses straining at the traces. -They were within thirty yards of the bridge.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Shout, landlord!" said Harry in a loud whisper -through the open window.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Here we are! here we are!" cried the man.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Louder!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Here we are!" He almost shrieked the words.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The others are behind!" prompted Harry.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The others are behind!" cried the landlord.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The sentry at the farther end of the bridge gave an -answering shout; the boards that served for a gate were -removed; the coach clattered and rumbled over the -rocking creaking planks, and the postilions pulled up their -reeking horses in the courtyard of the castle.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="across-the-fosse"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XXI</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">Across the Fosse</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="small">Shoulder to Shoulder—Wrecking the Bridge—Well Found—The -Dungeons of Rauhstein—The Castle Cook—The Enemy's -Plan—Unwilling Help—A Parley—The Bridge Builders—At -Short Range—Supper—Counsel—Fireworks—Long Odds—A -Rush—From a Sling—A Covered Way—Firing the Train—Shambles</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The shouting and the clatter of the coach had drawn the -garrison into the courtyard. From these twenty men, the -remnant of the brigand band, a great cheer went up, and -they pressed forward eagerly to see the princely captive. -Two or three of them were unarmed, but the rest, with -the habit of seasoned warriors, had their swords in their -belts and carbines slung at their shoulders.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well done, Otto!" cried one, slapping the landlord on -the back.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But at that moment both doors of the coach were flung -open, and out of each sprang a man with a pistol in the -left hand and a sword in the right. These were followed -by others, and before the astonished garrison realized the -situation, six fully armed men were among them, and one, -a tall, dark, lissom young fellow, all fire and energy, was -calling on them to surrender. A few, cowed by the pistols -pointed within a foot of their heads, and taken utterly -aback by this astounding change of scene, flung down -their carbines from sheer inability to think; but the more -nimble-witted, and those on the outskirts of the little -group, scurried away, under cover of their comrades, out -of range, unslinging their carbines and drawing their -swords as they ran.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Meanwhile the foremost postilion, in obedience to orders -previously given by Harry, whipped up his horses and -drove them at a gallop round the courtyard, narrowly -escaping a bullet from the carbine of one of the garrison, -until he came opposite the gateway, where he drew up so -as to present the side of the coach to the opening, and cut -the traces. The garrison, having by this time perceived -by how small a body they were confronted, came forward -in a compact mass against the little band. Carbines -cracked, pistols flashed, steel rang on steel, and with -shouts and oaths the two bands engaged. Harry was not -in this mellay, for in the confusion he had slipped away -and rushed through the archway, just in time to see the -sentry striving with might and main to hurl the planks -of the bridge into the fosse. He had caught sight of -eleven dragoons in Austrian uniform galloping up from -the valley half a mile away. The man turned as he heard -Harry's approach, snatched up his sword, which he had -dropped for his work with the planks, and threw himself -into his guard in the nick of time to meet the attack. -Harry felt that it was not a moment for fine sword-play; -the man was a burly fellow, clumsy, and to appearance -dull of wits. Running a risk which would be fatal if his -opponent were a keen swordsman, Harry gave him an -opening. It was instantly accepted, but the thrust was -parried with lightning rapidity, and before the man could -recover himself Harry's sword had ploughed a deep furrow -in his forearm, and with a yell of pain he let his own -weapon fall to the ground. Stepping back at the same -moment with the instinct of self-preservation, he tumbled -headlong into the fosse.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Immediately Harry wheeled round and dashed back -to the support of his men, now engaged in a desperate -and unequal battle. Their backs to the coach, they were -facing dauntlessly thrice their number of infuriated -brigands, who had discarded their firearms and came to the -attack with swords flashing in ever-narrowing circles. -One of the dragoons had already fallen; but his comrades -were all tough soldiers tried on many a battle-field, recking -nothing of the odds, every man with full confidence in -himself and his fellows. They were ranged in a quarter circle -against the coach, with just enough space between them -to allow free play with their weapons. Twice already had -they beaten back the enemy; a third and more determined -onslaught had somewhat broken their formation, and two -men had been wounded and forced back, exposing the -flank of the others. Harry sprang through the coach -just in time to close the gap. He hurled himself into -the fray with a shout; the enemy, taking him for the -advance-guard of reinforcements, fell back for a moment; -and before they could recover and return to the charge -there was a thunderous clatter on the bridge, the eleven -troopers flung themselves from their steeds, and -scrambling man by man through the coach gave threefold -strength to the hard-pressed line.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Charge!" shouted Harry in his clear, ringing voice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The men surged forward with a roar of exultation, -scattering the brigands to the limits of the courtyard. -Two or three bolted like rabbits into the keep; the rest -cried for quarter and flung down their arms; the din of -battle suddenly ceased, and some seventeen panic-stricken -prisoners were the prize of the victors.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Max, go into the keep, up the stairs to the top, and -tell me what you see."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>From the parapet of the keep Max shouted that he saw -a large troop of horse not a mile away, galloping amain -towards the castle.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Men, with me!" cried Harry.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Twelve dragoons sprang through the coach after him, -and with haste helped him to draw the planks of the bridge -within the archway. They had completed their task save -for the last plank when the foremost files of the enemy -galloped up, checking their horses at the very brink when -they saw the unbridged gap before them; no horse could -cross on a two-foot plank. Harry withdrew his men just in -time to escape the bullets fired at them by the baulked and -enraged brigands. At the last moment he himself stooped, -lifted the end of the plank, and hurled it into the fosse. A -slug whizzed past his head; he dashed back under the -archway, through the coach, breathless but safe.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As he stepped through the coach into the courtyard he -heard a groan. His wounded men had been carried into -the keep; at the moment no trooper was near. Bending -down, he looked beneath the coach, and saw the landlord -lying flat on his face, his head buried in his arms, groaning -dismally.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Are you hit, landlord?" asked Harry.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Lord have mercy on my soul!" groaned the man.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Never mind your soul; are your limbs sound? Come -out, and let me look at you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A palpitating mass crawled from beneath the vehicle. -Dirty, chap-fallen, and dishevelled, but unhurt, the landlord -stood in trembling and pitiful cowardice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where are you hurt? Come, I've no time to waste. -Why," he added, as he turned the man round and examined -him, "you haven't a scratch. You're a pretty consort of -ruffians! Get away into the keep and make yourself -useful, or——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The man scrambled away in limp despair, and Harry -smiled grimly as he went about his pressing task.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He knew that he was safe for a time. The two hundred -men outside were completely cut off from their quarters. -"If they want their castle they must come and take it," -thought Harry. They could only enter by one of three -ways: the main entrance, if they repaired the bridge—but -that could be prevented by marksmen within; the tunnel—but -that could be blocked up; the tower by which he himself -had escaped—but one or two men there could easily -prohibit access by the slope and postern. Harry set a -sentinel at each point, and then made a rapid survey of -the position.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He found that the castle contained, besides a huge quantity -of plunder, a plentiful stock of provisions, arms, and -ammunition. There were indeed many bags of powder -ranged carelessly around the walls of the courtyard, and -these Harry had removed to a more secure place in one of -the towers, and covered with sacking. He then went up -on the battlements to see what the enemy were about. -They had withdrawn to a knoll at some distance and -dismounted, and an exciting discussion appeared to be going -on among their leaders. Harry called to Max to remain -on the look-out and report any fresh movement among -them; then he prepared to visit the dungeons.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The prisoners had been secured in the hall of the keep.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Which of you acts as warder?" asked Harry, entering -the hall.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Zooks! if it an't young Mr. Rochester!" said an -amazed voice in English. "I be the warder, Mr. Rochester."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You, John Simmons! Now, answer me quickly: are -there any prisoners below?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There be two, sir, certainly, and I was against it—that's -the truth, sir; I was against it, but the capt'n he would -cool their courage, he said, and what could I do, -sir?—though it did cut me to the heart to serve -Mr. Fanshawe so——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hold your tongue, knave! Take me to the place at once."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I was against it," muttered the man, as he led the way -out of the hall, through the stone passage, into a room -near the spot at which Harry had ascended from the -tunnel. Here he lifted a slab in the floor, and let down -a rope ladder, coiled beneath it, into a pit of blackness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They are there?" exclaimed Harry in horror, as he -peered down, and found himself unable to discern anything.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I was against it," murmured Simmons again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The inhuman fiends!" cried Harry. "Fanshawe, are -you there?" he called into the mouth of the dungeon, his -voice echoing strangely from the hollow.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," came the faint answer. "Who are you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Tis Harry Rochester, old fellow. We'll have you out -in a trice,—and Lieutenant Buckley, too; is he with you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay. Is the ladder down?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes. Come along; we're all friends here."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Soon Fanshawe's fair head appeared above the hole. -Harry caught his arm and helped him to step on to the -floor.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"God bless you, Harry!" he said feebly. His cheeks -were drawn and pale; his eyes sunken and haggard; his -hair was dank and disordered; and he tottered and would -have fallen but for Harry's sustaining arm. After him -came a young officer whom Harry did not know. He, -too, showed signs of suffering, but his incarceration was -shorter by several days than Fanshawe's, and he was not -so much overcome by the sudden return to light and -liberty.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Poor old fellow!" said Harry, linking his arm in -Fanshawe's. "Come and let me make you comfortable. I'll -tell you all about things by and by, and hear what you -have to tell. We must get you right first. Aglionby shall -pay for this!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The two luckless prisoners were taken to the hall and -given food.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I've fed 'em twice a day reg'lar," said Simmons. -"They ha'n't wanted for nothing, and I was against -keeping 'em shut in that there damp and foul hole."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Silence, fellow! Go and bury the men killed in the -fight. Then come to me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Having made Fanshawe and Buckley as comfortable as -possible, Harry selected one of his own men to act as -store-keeper, and then, as a sudden idea struck him, called -for the landlord. The man could not at first be found, -but after some search was discovered and hauled with -many gibes into Harry's presence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Cease whimpering and listen to me," said Harry. -"You must do something to earn your food. You shall -be cook. Doubtless you know the arrangements of this -place; go and prepare a good meal for the men, and do -your best; it will be to your interest."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Ascending then to the top of the keep, he sent Max -down to get some breakfast, and looked around. The -enemy were not in sight. They had evidently withdrawn -into the copse about half a mile distant; perhaps under -cover of it they had drawn off altogether. But -knowing their leader, and imagining the fury with which -he must have seen the frustration of his carefully-laid -plans, Harry could not believe that he would tamely -accept the check as final. Aglionby, whatever his faults, -did not lack courage. He was not likely to throw up the -game at the loss of the first trick. He would probably -assume that it was Prince Eugene himself who had stolen -a march upon him; in that case he would suppose that he -had the prince caged in the castle; and whatever -advantage he had expected to derive from the capture of the -prince would induce him to strain every nerve to prevent -him from escaping. His aim, Harry supposed, had been -to hand Prince Eugene over to the Elector of Bavaria, and -reap much credit as well as a more tangible recompense. -In order to entrap the prince he had sent on Fanshawe's -letter by another hand. If he returned to the Elector's -army without his prize, when the odds had seemed all in -his favour, he would become the laughing-stock of the -camp. Harry therefore felt certain that he would attempt -to retake the castle at whatever cost.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>If he should succeed, Harry knew that he himself need -expect no mercy. Aglionby had a long account against -him; time after time his plans had been foiled; the sole -item on the credit side, the saving of his life at Breda, -was likely, in a man of his disposition, only to deepen his -rancour.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He would, of course, sooner or later find out his mistake -in regard to Prince Eugene; and when the discovery was -made he would expect the prince to send a force at the first -opportunity to relieve the men, whoever they were, who -had captured the castle, or at any rate to avenge their fate. -In either case Aglionby would lose no time, but would -hasten by all the means in his power any attack he might -meditate. So far as Harry could judge, he had nearly -three hundred men under his command; it would not be -long before he learnt, if indeed he did not already know, -that the present holders of the castle did not number more -than a score. In the circumstances he would almost -certainly attempt to take the place by assault, and the obvious -point of attack was the gateway. The bridge was broken -down; the fosse was too deep to be filled up; the attackers -would therefore have to construct another bridge, and the -fosse being little more than twenty feet wide, they could -easily rig up a portable platform strong enough to carry -them to the assault. There was plenty of timber in the -neighbourhood; with the force at his disposal Aglionby -might make a serviceable bridge in a few hours.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Meanwhile, what was Harry to do with the prisoners? -The question gave him some trouble. He had plenty of -provisions; there would be no difficulty in feeding them; -but if he kept them in the castle they would require a -guard of at least one man day and night, so that of his -own little band two men would practically be lost for -effective defence. If, on the other hand, he let them -loose, he would add eighteen men, fourteen of whom -were unhurt, to the enemy's strength. Deciding that on -the whole it would be best to keep them, he went down -to settle their fate without loss of time.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He gave them one by one the option of making himself -useful in the defence of the castle, or of being lowered into -the dungeon whence Fanshawe and Buckley had just been -released. With one consent the men elected to avoid the -dungeon. Harry at once set some of them to collect -stones from the more ruinous parts of the castle, and to -pile them up across the gateway, leaving loopholes for -musketry fire. Others he ordered to take a supply of -heavy stones to the summit of the keep, and to stack -them there out of sight from the distant copse. Three -armed men accompanied each squad to prevent treachery. -In pursuance of the plan of defence that was forming in -his mind, Harry went himself to the most dilapidated of the -three towers, and selecting two or three specially large -blocks of stone, weighing at a guess about a hundred-weight -each, he had them loosened from the debris and -carried up the winding stair of the keep. In the -courtyard he saw a number of stout poles, for which a use at -once suggested itself. As they would not go up the -winding stair, he got one of the men to splice several -lengths of rope, and the long rope thus formed was let -down from the top of the keep and knotted to one end of -the poles, which were then drawn up the tower on the -side facing the courtyard.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When these tasks had been completed, the prisoners -were placed in the ground-floor room of one of the towers, -and a man was set over them, with orders to shoot any -who should attempt to move from the place. Harry -divided his garrison into watches as on board ship, each -watch to be on duty for four hours. Every man had his -post, and, entering into their young leader's spirit, the -dragoons accepted readily the duties laid upon them, and -showed themselves full of a light-hearted confidence that -augured well for their success. One and all they were -hugely delighted with the trick, and discussed it among -themselves with much merriment, exasperating Max, however, -by the mock deference they still paid to him as Prince -Eugene.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As soon as he had a spare moment, Harry got from -Fanshawe and Buckley an account of their experiences. As -he had guessed, Fanshawe had been captured at dead of -night in the inn, his captors coming through the trap-door. -Buckley had been misdirected by the landlord, and, losing -his way, had fallen into an ambush. Both had been kept -in the dungeon day and night, and fed twice a day. In -his turn Harry related the chain of adventures which had -ended so happily for them, and when he told them -something of his plans for the future they both declared -themselves well enough to assist him. This, however, he would -not allow for the present, promising to avail himself of -their help as soon as they had had time to recover from -the effects of their confinement.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Just before noon, the man on the look-out at the -gateway announced that one of the enemy was approaching -with a flag of truce. Harry climbed up to the battlements -to the left of the keep, and as soon as the man was within -earshot demanded his business. Speaking in French, the -messenger said that he had come at his captain's order to -say that if Prince Eugene surrendered, he would be granted -honourable treatment, and conducted to the camp of his -highness the Elector of Bavaria, his men being allowed -to go free. If these terms were rejected, the castle would -be stormed and every member of the garrison would be -put to the sword. The decision must be made in half an -hour. Harry smiled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You may take our answer now," he said. "Tell your -captain that soldiers of the confederate army do not yield -to brigands and cut-throats."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The messenger rode back to the copse, and for some -hours there was no further sign of the enemy, except for -a few men who were noticed moving about a stretch of -marshy ground about a mile from the castle. Harry -wondered what their object could be, and calling Max to him, -asked what there was on the marsh that they were likely -to find useful.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There is nothing there, Monsieur, but mud and reeds."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Reeds! Of course. They are cutting reeds to bind -together lengths of timber for a bridge. I heard the -sound of chopping from the copse this morning. Well, -Max, I think we are prepared for them."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Soon after three o'clock a body of about two hundred -men was seen approaching on foot in open order. When -within musket-shot they took what cover the irregularities -of the ground and the scattered shrubs afforded, and -opened fire on every embrasure. Among them Harry had -no difficulty in recognizing the burly figure of Aglionby. -Word was passed round among the defenders to make no -reply. The enemy were at present too far off to do much -damage, or for the fire of the garrison to be effective. A -few minutes later Harry, who had posted himself on the -keep, so that while invisible himself he could see -everything, observed a small body of men emerge from the -copse, bearing a number of narrow palisades, consisting, -as he discovered on their nearer approach, of thin logs -roughly bound together. When they had come within -about two hundred yards of the castle, the main body of -the enemy directed a more continuous fire upon the battlements -and loopholes, many advancing close up to the edge -of the fosse. Still there was no reply from the defenders. -The bridge-bearers came up at a slow run.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Harry had disposed of his little force as follows. Three -men were stationed on the top of the keep, four at -loopholes on the stairways half-way up each side, five behind -the barricade of stones in the gateway, and one to carry -orders from his own position on the keep to the men -below. As soon as he saw the bridge-bearers approaching -he instructed his dragoons to fire when he gave the word, -but only at the men carrying the palisades. The -extemporized bridge was in four sections, each about two feet -across, and carried by six men.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The twenty-four came on, halted at the brink of the -gully, and prepared to raise their palisades. Then Harry -gave the word. The troopers below had been instructed -to fire at the left-hand sections, those above at the -right-hand sections. At the word they sprang up, thrust their -muzzles through the embrasures and loopholes, and, -undeterred by the patter of the enemy's bullets around them, -took deliberate aim. The effect was all that Harry had -hoped. The range was short; the men were old campaigners -of iron nerve, and almost every shot told. Two -or three men in each section of the bridge-bearers fell; the -rest, dismayed by the fate of their comrades, loosened their -hold on the palisades, which dropped back on to the farther -side of the fosse. There was a rush among the bolder spirits -to supply their places, and Aglionby himself, his red face -purple with fury and excitement, threw himself at the head -of his men, who strove with desperate haste to raise the -palisades once more. But there was no cessation of the -fire from the walls. Harry had taken the precaution of -collecting from the stock of arms four muskets for each -man, so that they needed to waste no time in reloading. -No sooner had the palisades begun to rise again than a -second fusillade burst forth from the castle; again the -unwieldy poles fell clattering to the ground; again the men -who had survived rushed back out of range. Aglionby -and one or two others at first refused to budge, and -took shelter behind the timber; but when they found -themselves deserted they at length scoured away after the rest, -and the whole force drew off.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Fire no more," cried Harry. "Let them look to their wounded."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Finding that the firing from the castle had ceased, a party -of the enemy ventured to the edge of the fosse and removed -the hapless men there, some stark dead, others wounded -more or less severely. Half a dozen men remained on -watch at points surrounding the castle; the rest withdrew -to the copse; and the members of the garrison, not one of -whom was hurt, rejoiced in the repulse of this first assault, -and went in relays to eat the meal which Otto the landlord -had prepared for them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>No further movement of the enemy was observable. -Max suggested that they had encamped in a large open -glade within the wood. As night drew on, a slight glow -above the tree-tops and thin columns of smoke proclaimed -that camp fires had been lighted. Evidently, then, the -enemy had not relinquished their hope of recapturing the -castle. They were, of course, aware that its present -garrison could not escape, for the plank bridge could not be -collected and replaced unobserved; without it the inmates -could only leave on foot, and they would thus easily be -overtaken by the horsemen.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Harry sat down with Fanshawe and Buckley to eat his -supper and discuss the situation. He was most apprehensive -of a night-attack.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They would have far better chances than by day," he -said, "for their numbers would tell against us, and we -should have to divide our force so as to guard points that -might be threatened at any moment."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But the battlements are inaccessible," said Fanshawe.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The tower by which I escaped, you remember, is not. -'Tis difficult of approach, indeed, but not impossible to -resolute men. I should have to leave at least one man to -guard the postern. Of course, I shall block up the -underground entrance by the tunnel; a few stones piled on the -trap will prevent it from being lifted from below. But in -the darkness 'twill not be so easy to hinder the enemy -from throwing a bridge across the fosse: that is most to -be feared."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Defend it with a mine," suggested Buckley.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A good thought!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And easy to do. The soil at the edge of the fosse will -be soft: dig a hole and bury half a bag of powder in it. -Pack it tightly with earth and stones; you can lead a train -of powder through the barricade into the courtyard."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Take care it is out of the reach of stray sparks from -the men's matches," said Fanshawe, "or there'll be an -explosion too soon and all spoilt."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You're good counsellors, both of you. We'll make -something of this defence among us."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Harry waited until dusk before carrying out Buckley's -suggestion, in order that his movements might not be -seen by the enemy. Having removed several stones from -the barricade, he set two men to dig a hole near the -gateway, filled it with a large charge of powder, and -rammed down the earth upon it, taking care that several -large stones were placed near the surface. Then the -barricade was restored, and the garrison rearranged, only two -men being now left in the keep, the rest being ordered to -take up their position in the courtyard.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>These arrangements had only just been completed, -and those of the dragoons who were not on watch had -just turned in, when a body of men was heard approaching. -The garrison was instantly called to arms, and -Harry went up to a coign of safety in the battlements to -await events. It was almost pitch-dark: he dimly saw -black masses moving about on the farther side of the -fosse; but he had resolved not to waste powder and shot -by opening fire with uncertain aim, and the enemy, finding -their progress unmolested, came, as his ears told him, -right up to the fosse. He wished he had some means of -throwing a light on the scene, but knew of nothing in the -castle sufficiently inflammable for the purpose.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After a time the noise outside, strikingly in contrast -with the absolute silence in the castle itself, increased; the -sound was like that of men slowly moving forward with -heavy loads. Harry heard the clank of stone against stone, -low whispers from across the fosse, less guarded -commands from a short distance farther back, where work of -some kind was evidently in progress. As Harry listened, -his uncertainty as to what was going on at length became -intolerable, and racking his brains to devise some means -of making a light he at last hit upon an idea. The -cushions of the coach were probably stuffed with hay; -that would burn, and if smeared with grease might give -a blaze strong enough to illumine the scene for a few -moments. He immediately had the cushions ripped up, -and found that their stuffing was as he had guessed. -There was a good stock of candles in the store-room; some -of these were melted down and the grease poured into the -long bundle of hay made from the cushions. The mass -was carried to the top of the keep, weighted with a stone, -kindled, and thrown down. It fell steadily, the flame -increasing as it gained impetus, casting a yellow glare -upon the walls of the castle and its surroundings. Its -appearance caused a sensation among the enemy: as -it reached the ground several men rushed forward and -stamped it out; but it had already fulfilled its purpose, and -Harry had seen all that he wished to see.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At the brink of the fosse the enemy had constructed a -low parapet: a large supply of stones was stacked about -thirty yards to the rear, and men were still adding to the -store from the scattered debris in the fosse and at the base -of the ruined walls. The intention was clear: protected -by the parapet, the enemy hoped to throw their bridge -across the fosse in safety. With this knowledge Harry's -fear of a night-attack was removed, for if the enemy -intended to assault in the darkness the parapet would be -unnecessary. They had apparently not cared to risk such -an enterprise. The bridge would be none too wide even -in daylight for the passage of a body of men rushing pell-mell -over it. The attack, then, was probably to be deferred -until dawn. Having completed their task the enemy by -and by drew off, and in anticipation of desperate work on -the morrow Harry went to snatch a brief sleep, leaving -Max as responsible head of the watch.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In the cool glimmering dawn of that June morning -Harry was awakened by Max with the news that the -brigands were moving from the copse. He hastened at -once to his post, and saw that the parapet extended for -some twenty yards along the farther side of the fosse, -with a gap in the centre protected by a traverse. The -enemy came forward rapidly, took up the palisades they -had vainly endeavoured to throw across the fosse on the -previous day, and under cover of the parapet began to rear -them. As Harry had feared, musketry fire from the castle -was almost wholly ineffectual: only the men on the top -of the keep got an occasional chance as the besiegers -incautiously moved away from their breastwork, thus -exposing the upper part of their bodies. The long -palisades were slowly reared on end, and lowered as -slowly across the fosse, till the end nearer to Harry rested -on the base of the barricade beneath the archway. When -the last section was in its place, the fosse was spanned -by a bridge wide enough to allow four men to cross it -abreast.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Harry felt a tightening at the heart as he realized the -magnitude of the task he had set himself. His force, -reduced by his losses to eighteen, including himself and -the two English officers, who were scarcely effectives, was -outnumbered by nearly eighteen to one. And the enemy -were no feather-bed warriors. Looking at their motley -array, he recognized that he had to contend with some -of the fiercest, most desperate, least scrupulous men of -war that Europe could produce. Their nationalities were -as varied as their costumes. His inexperienced eye could -not distinguish their types: but he saw small men and big -men, men fair, men dark, old and young; some were born -dandies, as their attempts at decoration in adverse -circumstances showed; others born tatterdemalions, who even in -affluence would have held the decencies of costume in -derision. About a hundred seemed to be regular soldiers of -the Elector of Bavaria's army. Only one bond held them -together: a common love of lawlessness and rapine. He -felt a new respect for Aglionby; only a man of some moral -force, however perverted, could have imposed his -leadership on such a heterogeneous crew.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At the moment Aglionby was in consultation with a -few others at some distance, and out of range of the -clumsy firearms of those days. Among the little group -Harry singled out two men as of more consequence than -the rest: a tall fellow matching the captain in height and -bulk, wearing a red sash—the same man he had seen -approaching the inn,—and a small active man in whose -cap a peacock's feather was jauntily stuck. They were -evidently discussing with great animation their plan of -attack.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As nearly as Harry could judge, about a hundred men -were crouching behind the parapet. A body nearly two -hundred strong was held in reserve near the leaders. -Against these Harry had five men in the gateway, three -at the summit of the keep, three half-way up, and Max -as lieutenant and aide-de-camp.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Suddenly the group of leaders parted, a bugle rang out, -and simultaneously with a fierce discharge of musketry -from the parapet two men dashed forward from each end -of the gap on to the bridge. At a second's interval these -were followed by another four, while several men rushed -from the reserve towards the far end of the parapet to -fill their places. Three fell under the first volley from the -defenders, but the rest sprang forward unhurt, and -gaining the other side began to clamber up the barricade, to -tear down the stones, or, thrusting their muskets through -the loopholes, to discharge them hap-hazard at the -garrison within. But three of the defenders of the gate had -held their fire, and, boldly mounting a low platform -of stones just inside the barricade, they discharged their -pieces point-blank into the mass of men now crowding -with shouts across the bridge. The brigands, Harry -noticed, were headed by the big red-sashed Croatian he -had seen in consultation with Aglionby. They recoiled -but for a second, then surged forward again, and, yelling -with fury, hurled themselves against the breastwork. -Eugene's troopers, led by Max, held their ground in -silence, save for a muttered exclamation when one of their -adversaries fell reeling into the fosse.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was not long before the weight of numbers began to -tell; portions of the barricade had been pulled down; the -gallant defenders were hard beset. Calling to the two -men in the keep, Harry rushed down and flung himself -into the fray, shouting to Max to go to the top of the -keep and carry out orders he had previously received. -Max hurried away, and Harry lost count of time as he -engaged in a desperate hand-to-hand fight across the -fast crumbling barricade. Standing upon their platform -the defenders still had the advantage of position, and -Harry and his two men being fresh, the enemy for some -few minutes gained but little. Then, as the attackers -were once more beginning to make headway, there was -a terrible crash on the bridge. The fighting ceased as -by magic; all was still. A huge mass of stone, swung -outwards from the top of the keep, had broken with -terrific force through the light palisades, leaving only -one section intact, and carrying with it into the fosse -nearly a dozen men. The survivors on the castle side, -seeing themselves almost cut off, were seized with panic -and made a simultaneous rush for safety, the big Croatian -pushing his weaker and wounded comrades into the fosse -in his reckless haste to regain the opposite bank.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Harry gave a gasp of thankfulness and relief,—and -turned to see Fanshawe and Buckley, who, weak as they -were, had come up unknown to him towards the close -of the fight to bear a hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thank you, old fellow!" he said to Fanshawe, "we -have scored one."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But he turned again, and, leaning on the barricade, -anxiously scanned the field. The leaders of the enemy -were once more in earnest consultation. They must have -lost at least twenty men in the short sharp struggle; but -the defeat seemed only to have enraged them. During -the first part of the fight Max had been full in their view, -and as he still wore the prince's costume the brigands -were no doubt convinced that Eugene himself was the -head and front of the defence, and were buoyed up by -the hope of capturing him. For some minutes the -discussion among the leaders continued; then, as having -come to a decision, they moved off with their men towards -the copse, and, save for half a dozen who remained to -watch the castle, were seen no more for some hours.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Their absence gave Harry an opportunity of attending -to his wounded. He found that three were somewhat -seriously hurt, and one was rendered hors de combat. -His total force was now reduced to fourteen, including -himself, his brother officers, and the two men on guard.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Towards mid-day, under a broiling sun, the enemy again -appeared. This time, in addition to palisades freshly -made, they carried with them a number of rough -frameworks penthouse shaped, fashioned from stout saplings -bound together, like the bridge, with withies from the -marsh. Evidently there was a man of resource among -them. Each of the frames formed a kind of wooden tent, -two yards long, some three to four wide, and six feet -high, requiring the united strength of half a dozen men -to carry. But there was no lack of men, and the bearers, -protected from bullets from above by the roof of these -shelters, came safely almost to the edge of the fosse. -The new palisades were thrown across, but this time the -materials were stronger. One of the sheds, its end closed -with light logs, was rushed across the bridge by a dozen -strong men. A second was joined to it, then a third, and -so on until a continuous corridor stretched across the -fosse. The lashings holding the logs together at the inner -end being cut, from out of this testudo sprang brigand -after brigand, who came impetuously up to the barricade -and instantly engaged the defenders in a furious -hand-to-hand combat. Max, whose marksmanship with his huge -sling had been so effective before, hurled stone after stone -down upon the testudo, but they were turned off by the -sloping roof, and though the bridge creaked and groaned -under the impact it did not give way.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was fortunate for the defenders that only a few men -at a time could make their way through the shed, and -the space at the end was too narrow to allow of a great -accession of numbers unless the foremost could scale the -barricade. The enemy had again lost heavily at their -first onset, but as soon as one man fell his place was -supplied, and no respite was given to the little band -within. Shoulder to shoulder Eugene's men formed a -wall of steel across the gateway: again and again they -beat back the enemy at the breastwork. But against -such odds they could not hope to escape unscathed; there -were no reserves; and of the enemy there was still a host -ready and eager to fill the gaps. One man and then -another of the troopers fell, this one to rise no more, -that to crawl away and stanch his wound. Seven men -were now all that was left of the fighting line, and when -Fanshawe and Buckley came up and insisted on sharing -their comrades' peril, Harry felt that he dared no longer -delay the playing of what might prove his last card. -With a word to Max to keep up the fight, he slipped for -a moment out of the press, struck a flint, kindled some -tinder he had kept in readiness, and then, shouting to -his men to make for the keep, and waiting till they had -begun to run, he lit the train.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At the last moment a trooper fell, so badly hurt that -he could not move. Harry sprang forward, caught the -man by the belt, and dragged him into the courtyard -towards the keep. The enemy, astonished at the sudden -flight of the garrison, hesitated for a moment before -charging across the obstacle which so far had held them -off. Then, just as they leapt forward over the barricade, -now an irregular heap of stones, there was a blinding flash -behind them, and a deafening roar. The ground rocked; -fragments of the dilapidated walls fell inwards and -outwards; a dense cloud of dust and smoke bellied over the -scene, and the air was rent by the cries of men in agony.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Disregarding the falling stone-work, Harry ran forward -to the archway, his eyes smarting with the fumes. As the -cloud gradually settled, he saw crowds of the enemy -huddled together on the farther side of the fosse, their -eyes aghast intently fixed on the archway. But of the -bridge, and the sheds, and the stream of men who a -minute before had been pressing forward exultantly across -the fosse, not a vestige remained. Wood and men lay an -indistinguishable mass at the bottom.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-fight-in-the-keep"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XXII</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">The Fight in the Keep</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="small">Soldiers All—The Silent Watches—Twice a Traitor—The -Oubliette—The Horizon—Fanshawe Volunteers—A Powder -Barrel—Nearing the End—Allies—Von Stickstoff—More -Stickstoff—The Confederate Camp—The Anspach -Dragoons—At the Sword Point—A Brief Respite—The -Fight on the Stairs—The Last Stand—The Anspachers</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Harry was sick at heart when he came to examine his -losses. Three of his men were dead, nine badly wounded, -there was not one but bore marks, in bruise or cut or -strain, of the desperate strife in which they had played -such manful parts. He arranged for the burial of the -three gallant troopers; then, heavy-hearted as he was, -set to work with indomitable pluck to repair the damage -done to the defences. The prisoners were pressed into the -service; the barricade was restored, and another mine was -dug, though from the crack that showed in the masonry of -the archway Harry feared that a second explosion would -bring half the keep tumbling about his ears.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Having done all that could be done, and shared a meal -with his devoted men, Harry went with Fanshawe and -Buckley to the top of the keep to discuss the future.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Our state is parlous, Fanshawe," he said. "Another -assault will wipe us out."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We have a breathing-space. The brigands have -had enough for the present. Their ill-success must have -daunted them."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But Aglionby will not give up yet. He is playing -for a high stake.—What is doing yonder?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In the distance he saw two wagons and a band of some -fifty men making their way across the hills towards the -copse in which the enemy were encamped.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Reinforcements, it appears," said Buckley. "Perhaps -food; they will raid every farmhouse round."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We must say nothing of this to the men," said Harry. -"'Twould dishearten them."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It seems you have no choice but surrender," remarked -Buckley.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Never—unless you and Fanshawe as my superior -officers take the responsibility."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not I," said Fanshawe. "'Tis absurd to think of! -The men are devoted to you; and Prince Eugene put you -in command; you have done wonders, and whatever be -the end, we'd be fools to interfere—eh, Buckley?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Certainly."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then I won't surrender. Say we make terms, think -you the enemy would hold to them, finding the prince not -here? They would wreak vengeance on us for their -disappointment and their losses. They are in the main -freebooters, the scum of the French and Bavarian armies, as -near savages as men can be. We could expect no mercy -at their hands. Besides, Aglionby will by and by discover, -if he have not already done so, that I am here; and he has -too many scores to pay off to deal very tenderly with me -or my men. We can but hold out to the last, and hope -that help may come in time."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The prince must by this be in our camp," said -Fanshawe. "What if we tell the enemy they are on the -wrong scent?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Twould avail us nothing. Aglionby would not believe -the story, or, if he believed it, would scout it publicly -so as to keep his men together. He would be the more -deeply embittered against us."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You are in the right," said Fanshawe. "Pray God -help comes to us, then."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We can still hold the keep," said Harry. "One man -on the winding stair can hold many at bay; we must fight -against time."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>That night Harry could not sleep for the harassing -problem of the continued defence of the castle. True, his -object had been gained; Prince Eugene had got off in -safety; he himself had fought a good fight; but it was -clear that unless help came soon his defence must be -broken through by sheer force of numbers. He was -resolved to die rather than fall a captive into Aglionby's -hands; but the longing for life was strong within him. -He thought of all that had passed during the two years -since his meeting with Lord Godolphin: the strange -vicissitudes, the ups and downs of fortune; the inexplicable -enmity of Mr. Berkeley; his pleasant relations with -Mynheer Grootz and the ladies of Lindendaal; the chances -which had served him so well and brought him so near the -realization of his dearest longings. It was hard to think -that at this moment, when the confederate army under the -greatest generals of the age was moving towards events of -high moment, he should be cut off in this obscure spot and -robbed of the opportunity to which he had looked forward -so eagerly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He did not think only of himself. He remembered his -companions—Fanshawe, Buckley, the faithful Max, the -brave troopers whose fate was linked with his. Their lot -was worse than his, for they had ties—parents, children, -relatives, to whom they were dear: he himself was alone -in the world. Apart from Mynheer Grootz, who he knew -loved him; Madame de Vaudrey, whose feeling for him -was warm; Sherebiah, whose affection was perhaps the -closest of all; there was no one to be interested in his -welfare. Thinking of Madame de Vaudrey he thought of her -daughter, and was dimly conscious that he would have -liked to stand well in her eyes—to break through that cold -reserve of manner she had always shown to him, and win -from her one look or word of approval. Fanshawe, he -knew, still nourished a hope of winning her; it seemed to -depend on him whether Fanshawe should have another chance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He lay awake, thus musing, and gazing at a star that -shone through the loophole in the wall. By and by he felt -a strange uneasiness, unconnected with his previous train -of thought. All was quiet; not even the hoot of an owl -broke the stillness. Unable to account for his feeling, he -rose and went to the top of the keep.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is all well?" he asked the sentry there.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"All is well, Monsieur."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You have seen or heard nothing?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nothing, Monsieur, but the scurry of rabbits in the -fosse."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good-night!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He returned to his bed and lay down again. But still -he felt uneasy; again he was impelled to rise. This time -he went down into the courtyard. Max was on duty -there. The horses were ranged round the walls; the -coach stood in the corner to which it had been hauled; -everything was as it had been. He went into the large -hall: the prisoners were all asleep, the sentry on guard. -Something led him to continue his round; he was -determined to allay his restlessness by examining every nook -and cranny of the castle. Taking a lighted candle, he -made his way into the lower part of the keep. He arrived -at length at the chamber to which there was access from -the tunnel. He started, and stopped short in amazement -and consternation. The stones which had been heaped on -the trap-door had been removed. With a muttered -imprecation on the man who he supposed had carried the stones -up the keep for use with the sling, he was turning to order -someone to replace them when he noticed that several -stones were piled in a corner near at hand. He stood -still, puzzled at this strange meddling with his work.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At this moment he heard a slight sound beneath him, -and saw a tremor in the stone trap-door. Could he believe -his eyes? One end of the stone was rising. Quick as -thought he blew out his candle, and backing behind a -pillar drew a pistol from his belt. His fascinated eyes -were fixed on the slowly moving stone. There was now -a ray of light at its edge; he heard whispering voices. -Steadily the heavy slab was pushed into a vertical position; -then appeared the head, the shoulders, the body of a man. -By the light of the sputtering candle he carried Harry -recognized Otto the landlord. Now he saw the meaning -of all that had puzzled him. The man, alarmed for his -safety if, as must seem inevitable, the brigands captured -the castle and found him there, apparently an accomplice -in the trick played upon them, had sought to purchase his -peace by leading them through the secret passage. Harry -felt a keen pang of self-reproach that he should not have -foreseen this development and taken steps to prevent it.</span></p> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 83%" id="figure-109"> -<span id="mein-wirth-is-surprised"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="Mein Wirth is surprised" src="images/img-341.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">Mein Wirth is surprised</span></div> -</div> -<p class="pnext"><span>But he was instinctively bracing his muscles for the -impending struggle. The landlord was now through the -opening; he stepped on to the floor of the room and bent -down to assist the next man. Slipping the pistol back -into his belt, Harry made two bounds and was beside the -stooping figure. The man heard his footfall and instantly -straightened himself; but even as he raised the hand -holding the candle to ward off the imminent blow, Harry -struck him full upon the chin, and with a stifled gasp he -fell headlong to the stone floor. Then Harry, throwing -all his weight against the slab, hurled it with a crash into -its place. The landlord's candle was guttering, still feebly -alight, on the floor. By its glimmer Harry hauled from -the corner one after another of the stones that had been -removed, and piled them with desperate haste upon the -trap until the way was again effectually blocked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then, picking up the candle, he examined the prostrate -body. The man was stunned. Harry, for all his anger, -could not help pitying the poor craven wretch. But only -one course was open to him. The crashing sound had -already brought Max and two other men to the spot.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Lower him into the dungeon," cried Harry.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And the dark hole in which Fanshawe and Buckley had -spent nights and days now received the senseless body of -the traitorous landlord.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sleep was banished for the rest of the night. The -alarm had gone through the garrison, and every man was -on the alert. It was clearly imperative to provide against -a possible attack by way of the underground passage. -Such an attack was, in truth, not very likely. Only one -man could pass the slab at one time from below, and save -by mining operations the enemy could scarcely force a way -through the ton of stones which Harry now caused to be -heaped above it. But it was necessary to set a watch at -this point, and as he could not spare another man from his -already too much diminished force he decided to withdraw -the man from the tower by which he had escaped from the -castle, and to release the prisoners.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Before he did this, however, he resolved to employ them -once more in strengthening his defences. It was pretty -evident that the result of another assault would be to drive -him into the keep. The entrance to this from the courtyard -was without a door; it was necessary to block it up, -leaving only a narrow gap that could be easily closed. -He employed the prisoners to pile the largest stones that -could be found flush with the doorway, in such a manner -that the enemy, approaching from the outside, should be -unable to get a hold upon them or push them away. A -narrow opening was left, and heavy stones were placed on -the inside, near at hand, to block it up when the time -should come. At the same time a large supply of missiles -was conveyed to the top of the keep.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was clear from the movements of the enemy during -the day that they were far from abandoning the siege. -No doubt they had been encouraged by the arrival of -reinforcements. Sections for a new bridge were brought in -the afternoon and placed close to the fosse, together with -the sections of a second testudo. These were certain -indications of another attempt on the gateway.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Many times during the day Harry went up the keep and -looked anxiously northward for the expected succour, -always to be disappointed. He could not believe that -Prince Eugene had left him to his fate; something must -have happened to detain the relieving force, and Harry -thought with anguish of heart that it might arrive too -late. Then an idea struck him. Why not send out a -messenger to hasten the troops if they were indeed on the -road? There was one serious objection: the garrison -could not safely spare a man. He mentioned his idea to -Fanshawe.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Let me go," said his friend instantly. "I am of little -use as a fighting man; my strength is not equal to a fight -so desperate as the last. But if I can get away, I might -find a horse in a neighbouring hamlet, and I could at least -keep my seat in the saddle. And an officer would prove -a better messenger than a trooper."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Harry accepted the offer. Fanshawe might fall into the -hands of the enemy, but he was willing to face the risk, -and under cover of night there was a reasonable hope that -he might elude them. About ten o'clock he clambered -along the battlements towards the rearmost tower, and -there, assisted by a rope, he made his exit by the postern, -slid down the slope more riskily ventured by Harry on his -first visit to the castle, and, taking a wide sweep, -disappeared into the darkness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When Harry returned to the keep, he was informed by -the sentry that he had heard dull movements beneath the -trap-door. The sounds had now ceased. Harry's -conclusion was that the enemy had been searching for a weak -spot in the passage, and having failed had finally given up -any notion of effecting an entrance there. He arranged -with Buckley to take the watch from midnight till dawn.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With the first glimmers of daylight Harry carried out -his resolve to release the prisoners. The odds were so -heavy against him that one man inside was now worth -thirty out, and with no prisoners to guard he could add -one to his effective force. Rapidly marshalling them, he -led them to the ruined tower, and let them down by a rope -as Fanshawe had been let down in the night. The -movement was seen by one of the enemy's scouts, and before -the prisoners had all reached the ground a crowd of their -comrades had gathered at the foot of the slope to meet -them. Their appearance seemed to create great astonishment; -they were surrounded and eagerly plied with questions. -One result of their release was that a new point of -attack was disclosed to the enemy, who had apparently -not dreamt hitherto of making an attempt by the postern. -Harry saw a small body detach themselves from the main -force and approach the slope; but knowing the difficulty -of an assault uphill upon such a narrow opening he -doubted whether they would push an attack home; still, -it would have the effect of engaging one at least of his men.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was very early in the morning; the enemy had -everything ready; but they appeared to be waiting for -something. Once more Harry scanned the horizon vainly for -sign of helmet or lance. Suddenly there was a deep -rumbling roar from the interior of the keep; an exultant shout -rose from the enemy's ranks, and rushing forward at full -speed they began to throw their new bridge across the -fosse. Shouting to his men to hold the gateway to the -death, Harry hastened down to the entrance of the keep, -where he was met by stifling fumes of gunpowder. Then -he rushed up the winding stair to the first floor, and saw -Buckley staggering towards him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I had just been relieved," panted Buckley. "The -explosion occurred the moment after I left the spot. It -stunned me for a few seconds. The poor fellow who took -my place must have been blown to atoms."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They laid a charge last night, 'tis clear," said Harry. -"But they can't follow up at once; they must wait until -the fumes have cleared away, and that will take time: there -are no vent holes. Remain at the top of the stair; with -your musket and pistol you can hold several off for a time. -They are assaulting the gateway; I must go."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Harry, having proved the futility of dropping missiles -upon the testudo, had concentrated his whole force, save -Buckley and the man in the tower, at the gateway. He -noticed that the new bridge was higher at the farther side -of the fosse than at the end near the castle. The reason -was soon evident. The testudo this time was not blocked -up by logs, and Harry behind his barricade could see -through its entire length. A screen of saplings was -suddenly raised over the farther end of the bridge; it was as -suddenly removed; and down the inclined plane rolled a -small keg of powder, with a burning fuse attached.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Back, men, back!" he shouted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The command was only just in time. They were but a -few yards from the barricade when there came a roar like -thunder, followed by a second as Harry's own mine was -exploded, and through the swirling smoke fierce and -derisive cheers. Holding his breath and stooping low, Harry -rushed back to see what damage was done. The barricade -had disappeared; the archway was in ruins; and the -enemy were flinging another bridge across the fosse to -replace that destroyed by the explosion. So far as the -defence of the gateway was concerned, Harry saw that the -game was up. At the best he could but delay the enemy -for a few minutes, and even then he would risk having his -men cut off from the keep. Recalling the man from the -farther tower, he collected his little band, ordered them to -fire one volley into the advancing ranks, and then withdrew -through the barricaded doorway into his last defence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At that moment he heard the dull sound of a shot -above. Buckley must be beset! Giving Max orders to -hold the courtyard entrance, and sending a man to hurl -down stones from the roof upon the enemy crowding -below, he took two men with him to assist Buckley, -whom he found hard pressed near the head of the other -stairway. Sword in hand, he was holding the narrow -winding passage against the big red-sashed Croatian, who -was making a desperate thrust at him with a half-pike, -the head of which had been severed by the Englishman's -blade.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Steady, Buckley! I am here!" shouted Harry.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He drew his pistol from his belt, slipped under Buckley's -arm, and just as the Croatian hurled himself up the last -step intervening between himself and his foe, Harry fired -point-blank at his heart, and he fell back upon his -comrades. The narrow stairway was choked with men; the -din of their shouts echoed and re-echoed from the winding -walls, and above all the uproar Harry distinguished the -tones of Aglionby, yelling to his men to make way for him -to pass.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When Fanshawe left the castle he walked steadily on -for some hours, making a wide circuit round the enemy's -position, guiding himself by the north star. His progress -was difficult over the hills in the darkness. He had to -scale bluffs, to creep up rocks, to spring across ravines, -to wade through swamps at the risk of being engulfed, -to skirt patches of wood—though in one case, finding that -he was being taken too far out of his course, he plunged -boldly into a copse, trusting to his good fortune to bring -him safely out at the other side. Thus delayed, it was -long before he felt sure that he was safe.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At last he struck into a narrow pathway leading -north-west. Proceeding more rapidly along this, he was -brought, after walking for some four hours, into what was -apparently the highroad along which he had passed with -Marlborough's letter about ten days earlier. He was very -tired, but resolved to press on until he reached a village. -Another hour's walk brought him to a hamlet with a -modest Gasthaus. He knocked up the landlord, and with -some difficulty persuaded the suspicious man to provide -him with a horse. No troops, he learnt, had passed -through. The landlord had been told that firing had -been heard among the hills in the direction of Rauhstein; -he did not understand what it could be, for the castle was -in the possession of brigands, and he did not think the -prince's men were near enough.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Staying at the inn but to eat a little food, Fanshawe -rode on, and suddenly, some little while before dawn, -came on a picket of four men upon the road. He was -challenged; the speaker was evidently a German, and of -German Fanshawe knew not enough to frame a sentence. -He tried French; but that raised the sergeant's suspicions; -he mentioned the names of Marlborough and Prince -Eugene, with no better success; and he was marched off -under guard into the neighbouring village.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His escort halted at a small cottage, and the sergeant -entered. Colonel von Stickstoff was in bed. He was -awakened, but the colonel was nothing if not a stickler -for etiquette, and he declined to see Fanshawe until he -had made some preparations. When Fanshawe was -marched in, therefore, he found himself confronted by a -short, stout, pompous little officer, with his tunic buttoned -tight, a rug across his knees, which were guiltless of -breeches, and a large flaxen wig set awry over his -nightcap. The quarter-master was summoned, and an -interrogation began.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who are you, sir, and what have you to say for -yourself?" asked the officer in German.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Fanshawe tried to explain in French, of which he had -obtained a smattering.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ha! You are a Frenchman! Take that down, -quartermaster. Everything must be done in order."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This was somewhat embarrassing. Fanshawe might -understand the German's French, but he must necessarily -be ignorant of what was said to the quarter-master in -German.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am an officer in my lord Marlborough's army," he -said haltingly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Take that down, quarter-master. A Frenchman in -Lord Marlborough's army. In what regiment, Monsieur?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In Schomberg's Horse."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Take that down. Now, Monsieur, explain to me how -it is that you, a Frenchman in Lord Marlborough's army, -are here, ten miles from his camp at Gros Heppach."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This was good and unexpected news. Fanshawe at -once proceeded to make it clear that he was an Englishman, -then explained in as few words as possible whence -he had come and the urgency of his mission.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Take that down," said the colonel, translating to the -quarter-master.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The man wrote slowly, and Fanshawe was growing -more and more restive.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I beg you to note, Monsieur," he said, "that while we -are talking Prince Eugene's men are possibly being -massacred by the brigands. They are at least forty to one."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ha! Take that down. The enemy is in force; we -must adopt every precaution. No doubt they are an -advance-guard of the Elector's army. How many do the -enemy number?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Some three hundred."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Three hundred!—And I have only two hundred and -eighty-three. We are outnumbered. Take that down. -We must arrange a </span><em class="italics">postirung</em><span>, according to rule, quartermaster; -note that, strictly according to rule. I will write -you the instructions. Lieutenant Spitzkopf will advance -with ten men three hundred and twenty paces in front of -our position; Lieutenant the Baron von Blindwurm will -post himself with five men two hundred and sixty paces -on our right flank—or is it two hundred and forty? Hand -me my manual, quarter-master."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There is a swamp there, Excellency," suggested the -quarter-master doubtfully.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then they must post themselves in the swamp. A -</span><em class="italics">postirung</em><span> is a </span><em class="italics">postirung</em><span>; let there be no mistake about -that. Let me see; yes, here it is: page one hundred and -nine: 'Superior force: detachment in presence of, what -steps to take'. Yes, it is quite clear; we must secure our -position and send for reinforcements. 'Send for -reinforcements': that is it. You will at once send a messenger -to Stuttgart; I will write a despatch to the general while -he is saddling up."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then turning to Fanshawe he said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I regret, Monsieur, that, having failed to give the -countersign, you must consider yourself under arrest until -your bona fides is established. Quarter-master, take the -prisoner away; see that things are done in order, and be -sure to wake me up when the enemy are sighted."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Fanshawe protested, but the colonel was evidently -impatient to get back to bed, and waved him peremptorily -away. He was led out and deprived of his arms, boiling -with anger, and, feeling that every moment was of importance, -in a state of desperation. This was the officer to -whom Prince Eugene had entrusted the urgent task of -relieving his hard-beset troopers! The confederate camp -was only ten miles distant; if only he could find some -means of sending word thither of the dire straits in which -Harry was!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As he passed along the street with his escort, he saw -a number of horses approaching, apparently from being -watered. The first, a fine charger lighter in build than -the average cavalry horse of the period, was led by a -groom, who at this moment tethered the animal to a -post a few yards from his commandant's cottage. The -trooper into whose custody Fanshawe had been confided -was marching on his right hand, carrying not only his -own carbine but the prisoner's sword and pistols. -Fanshawe saw a bare chance of escape and unhesitatingly took -it. With a sudden movement he deftly tripped the man up, -sprang to the post, unhitched the reins, and before the -onlookers could collect their scattered wits was on the -horse's back and twenty yards down the road. There -was a great hubbub behind him; fortunately none of the -troopers was at that time armed. Suddenly he bethought -him of the vedette whom the extreme caution of the -commandant had doubtless caused to be posted in the rear of -his force. He might come upon him at any moment. -Taking the first turning to the right he set spurs to his -steed, dashed along a lane, leapt a fence, and plunged -into an orchard. From his study of the map previous to -his ride with Marlborough's message he remembered that -Gros Heppach lay on the Göppingen road, to the north-east -of his present position. If he could strike this by -a path over the hills he might yet succeed. He spurred -on, the rising sun enabling him to choose the easiest -ground, and by and by came upon a rough country track -leading in the right direction. He galloped along at -break-neck pace, and gaining a little eminence, his eyes -were gladdened by the sight of white tents dotting the -valley some three miles below him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He sped down the hill, and soon came plump upon a -Dutch outpost, which had evidently seen him from afar -and prepared to stop him. Reining up, he asked to be -taken at once to Lord Marlborough. The Dutchman did -not insist on explanations, recognizing him as an English -officer, but sent a man at once to conduct him to -headquarters. He had but just reached the outer circle of the -camp, when he saw Colonel Cadogan riding slowly along -in company with another officer whom he did not recognize. -Without hesitation he rode up to the colonel, saluted, and -begged to be allowed a word with him. His explanation -was soon made, and to his surprise Cadogan burst into a -great laugh and cried in French:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"This concerns your highness. The troopers who -played the trick on the brigands, and that young -daredevil Rochester, are trapped in a castle."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nom d'un tonnerre!" cried Prince Eugene. "Are they -not relieved? I ordered a detachment of Würtembergers -to ride out to them two days ago as I passed through -Stuttgart. What has become of them?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It appears," said Cadogan, still laughing, "that they -are on the road, but the colonel is learned in the art of war -and is advancing by strategical moves."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sacrebleu! He must be one of Baden's men. That -young countryman of yours, Colonel, must be saved."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, though he is a Dutchman now. Mr. Fanshawe, -your friend's regiment is close by; you had better take -a squadron and ride out at once. I suppose a troop or -two of Dutch dragoons will be a match for the brigands?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Certainly, sir,—of the Anspach dragoons."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Very well, lose no time. I will mention the matter to -the duke, to whom you will, of course, report yourself at -the earliest opportunity. Good luck to you!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Fanshawe rode off, and within a quarter of an hour was -leading some two hundred of Harry's troopers, Captain -van der Werff at their head, and Sherebiah among them, -along the shortest road to the castle of Rauhstein.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The winding staircase of the keep was ampler than in -most castles of the kind. Two men could mount abreast, -but it was only possible for one to find room for -sword-play. The attackers soon adapted their tactics to the -conditions. One man pushed to the front with sword and -pistol; another just behind supported him with pistol and -pike. Not long after Harry came upon the scene, Buckley, -all but sinking under the strain, had to be assisted up the -staircase. This gave the brigands a momentary advantage, -for Harry was left with only one swordsman to stem -the rush. There was no room for his companion by his -side; he therefore sent him aloft to bring large stones to -hurl upon the mob. Not for the first time he had reason -to congratulate himself on the hours he had spent with -Sherebiah and the Dutch instructor of his regiment in -practising with sabre and rapier. His was the advantage -of position, but the enemy were always two to one, and -had they had patience to recharge their pistols after the -failure of their first flurried snap-shots, or boldness enough -to press forward regardless of the loss of the first few -men, they could have borne him down with ease.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Only a few minutes had elapsed after Harry's arrival at -the stairhead when he heard a well-known voice storming -below. The enemy gave back for a moment, then Captain -Aglionby pressed upward and engaged Harry hand to -hand. Harry was sufficiently occupied in parrying the -captain's vengeful attack without the necessity of -guarding against the pike that threatened every moment to -impale him. This he could only turn aside; he had no -time for a sweeping cut to sever its head. Fortunately -for him the captain and his supporter impeded each other -on the stairway. Yet Harry saw that the struggle could -not last long, and fervently hoped that the man he had -sent for missiles would return in time. The clang of -weapons and the shouts of men rang through the -stone-walled spaces. Aglionby had learnt from the released -prisoners of the trick that had been played upon him, and -his fury found expression in the violence of his onslaught -and the venom of the curses he hurled upon his nimble-wristed -opponent. Harry said never a word, but kept his -eye steadily upon the captain, turning aside stroke and -thrust.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At length he heard a footstep behind him. A stone -as large as a man's head struck the wall immediately -below him on his left. Narrowly missing Aglionby, it -rebounded from the curved surface and struck the pikeman -below him with a terrible thud. With the steadiness of -an old campaigner the captain did not so much as wince, -but continued his attack with still more savage energy. -When, however, another stone hurtled down the stairway, -maiming two other men below him, the rest of his followers -turned tail and fled helter-skelter to the foot. A third -stone grazed Aglionby's arm; then, seeing himself deserted, -he backed slowly down the stairs.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The attack having been thus for a time repulsed, Harry -left two men on the stairs with pistols ready charged and -a supply of stones, and hurried across to the other -staircase to find how things had gone there. It was with -unutterable relief he saw that the assault of the enemy -on the entrance to the keep had so far been beaten off -by the combined fire from the doorway and the hurling -of heavy blocks of stone from the top of the building. -But the enemy were preparing another move. Finding -that they could not force the obstacle, nor approach near -enough to tear it down, they were about to try the effect -of an explosion. A keg of powder had been rolled to the -entrance by a lucky rush between the falling of two of -the dreaded stones from above; now, hugging the wall so -as to avoid the fire of the defenders, they were laying a -train.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Harry saw that it was only a matter of minutes before -the barricade at the entrance to the keep would be blown -in. He utilized the time by bringing down a further supply -of stones from the battlements and storing them within -easy reach of the inner stairway. He could not prevent -the explosion, or raise further obstacles to the progress of -the besiegers; he could but defend every inch of the -staircase, and retreat, if it must be so, step by step to the -top of the keep. Almost despairing now of relief, he was -prepared to fight to the end, and, looking round on his little -group of stalwarts, he saw no sign of wavering on their -part. Eugene's men were worthy of their master.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Half an hour passed; the pause lengthened itself to -an hour; yet the train had not been fired, the attack had -not been renewed. Had the enemy some still more -desperate device in preparation? Instinctively he looked far -out over the country; but through the sun-shot haze he -descried no sign of a friendly force. Then the watchman -whom he had left on the roof saw a thin ribbon of flame -dart from the outer gateway, along the wall, to the barred -doorway of the keep. There was a deafening roar, -followed by the crash of ruining stone-work and the -vociferations of the exultant forayers, who swarmed forward -to clear away the rubbish. Their ingenuity was -inexhaustible. When the mingled smoke and dust had eddied -away, Harry saw that they bore with them stout shields -of wood, each carried by two men, intended to ward off -the missiles he was preparing to launch upon them as -they mounted the winding stairs. This was the explanation -of their long stillness. Running down, he heard from -his left the din of fierce strife in the stairway leading to -the dungeons. The enemy were attacking at both points -simultaneously.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then began the last bitter struggle: the besiegers -pushing relentlessly before them the long upright shields that -occupied almost the whole height and breadth of the -stairway; the besieged contesting every step, hacking and -thrusting, splitting the shields with the jagged boulders -from the ramparts, lunging with sword and pike through -the narrow spaces at the sides, yet moment by moment -losing ground as fresh men from below came up to replace -their wounded or exhausted comrades. A din compounded -of many separate noises filled the narrow space—the crash -of stones, the creak of riven wood, the clash of steel upon -steel or stone, the crack of pistols, the cries of men in -various tongues—cries of pain, of triumph, of encouragement, -of revenge. Desperately fought the little garrison, -every man loyal, resolute, undismayed. They had no -reserves to draw upon; theirs but to stand staunch against -fearful odds, and, if it must be, die with courage and clear -minds. With labouring breath, drenched with sweat, -sickened by the reek, battle-worn and weary, they plied -their weapons, hurled their missiles, grimly gave blow for -blow. Back and ever back they were driven by the -remorseless shields; forced from the lower stairways they -are now collected—a little band of seven—on the single -one above; Harry and Max in front, two pikemen behind, -and behind these, three who turn by turn smite the mass -thronging below, over the heads of their own comrades, -with cyclopean masses which only the strength of despair -enables them to lift and hurl. Now a stone crashes clean -through one shield, ay, through two, making its account -of the bearers, and giving pause to the brigands. Now -a pike transfixes a limb, a sword cleaves a red path, a -bullet carries death. But the enemy press on and up; -like an incoming tide they roll back a little after every -upward rush, rising, falling, yet ever creeping higher, soon -to sweep all before them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Now only six men hold the narrow stair. The dimness -of the scarce lit space below is illumined from above; a -yell of triumph breaks from the brigands' throats as they -realize that they are nearing the top of the turret. The cry -is like a knell to the hearts of Harry Rochester and his -devoted five. Only a few steps, and they must be forced -upon the roof, driven against the parapet, at bay to the -horde of wolvish outlaws already exulting in their -victory. Aglionby has gone, sore hurt by a thrust from a -pike; but a doughty leader is still left, the lithe Frenchman -whose peacock's feather flickers hither and thither in the -van. Mechanically the defenders wield their weapons, -cast their last stones; the force is gone from their strokes, -their dints fall ever feebler and feebler upon the -steel-edged wooden wall that thrusts them upward without -mitigation or remorse. Never a man dreams of yielding; -Buckley falteringly whispers a word of final cheer; there -is no mercy for such obstinate fighters from the savage -outlaws, afire with the lust of blood, infuriated by the -checks and losses of the past desperate days.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They are at the upmost turn of the stairway now, their -heads already in the pure clear air of the bright June -morning. The imminence of the end nerves them for a -last despairing rally. Through the gaping joints of the -battered shields they make so sudden and trenchant an -attack on the foe that for a brief moment the upward -movement is checked. A rebound: already the feathered -Frenchman leaps upward as on the crest of a wave, when -a confused shout reverberates through the hollow turret, -a message is sped with the rapidity of lightning from base -to summit; all is hushed to a sudden silence; then, while -the six stand in amazed stillness, the Frenchman swings -round and, amid the clatter of wood and weapons, flees -headlong down the stairs at the heels of his scurrying -comrades. Bewilderment for a moment possesses the six, -as, with the vision of death before their eyes, they rest -heavily on their weapons. Then Buckley, nearest to the -parapet, with a shout that breaks into a sob, cries:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They flee! they flee!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Three bounds bring Harry to his side. With elbows on -the parapet he gazes hungrily into the open. The four -press about him. Between the castle and the copse men -are scampering like scared animals, a few on horseback, -most of them on foot. And yes—in the distance, moving -across the hills from the north-west,—what is it that -causes Harry's heart to leap, his blood to sing a song of -tempestuous joy in every vein? One look is enough; he -cannot be deceived; in the horsemen galloping amain -towards him he recognizes his own regiment, the Anspach -dragoons. One moment of self-collection: then he turns -to his men.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We are saved, my men," he says quietly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And from the parched throats of the five war-scarred -warriors on that ancient keep rises a hoarse thin cheer, -that floats away on the breeze, and meets the faint blare -of a bugle.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="blenheim"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XXIII</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">Blenheim</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="small">Compromising Papers—A Jacobite Agent—Praise from -Eugene—A Contrast—Sherebiah Resigns—Foreign -Ways—A Divided Command—The Duke's Day—The Field of -Battle—"The Doubtful Day"—A Famous Victory—A -Fugitive—Coals of Fire—A Revelation—Warnings—Silence—A -Soft Impeachment—Down the Rhine</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Never a more cordial meeting took place between friends -than the meeting of Harry with Godfrey Fanshawe. -The latter, with Sherebiah, rode straight for the castle, -while Captain van der Werff and his dragoons swept upon -the scattered forayers, exacting a terrible retribution from -all within reach of their sabres. The moment when the -friends met in the courtyard was too tense for speech. -Buckley, weaker than the others after his imprisonment, -almost sobbed; Eugene's three dragoons sat down on the -flagstones and, resting their heads on their crossed arms, -sought the blessed oblivion of sleep. Harry's overwrought -body was all a-quiver; his trembling lips stammered out -broken and inconsequent phrases; and Fanshawe wisely -left him to Sherebiah's tendance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was not till much later in the day that the story of the -siege was told. Harry's fellow-officers were unstinted in -their admiration of his pluck and resourcefulness. He on -his side was provoked to mirth by Fanshawe's story of the -methodical Colonel von Stickstoff, though he was serious -enough when, turning to his friend, he thanked him -earnestly for what he had done to hasten the relief.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When Captain van der Werff arrived, he made a -thorough search through the castle, and discovered in the -cellars a large and motley collection of plunder gathered -by the outlaws. There were costly church ornaments, -bullion, pictures, pieces of tapestry, jewelry, arms, clothes, -articles of furniture, but no plate; this, he concluded, had -been melted down to avoid the risk of discovery. In the -dungeon was found the shattered body of the landlord of -the Zum grauen Bären, killed by the explosion engineered -by his own friends. Harry could not but reflect on the -nemesis which had pursued this man of crooked ways.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Preparations were made in the late afternoon for riding -back to the confederate camp. Many of the stricken -brigands had surrendered to Captain van der Werff's -dragoons, and were escorted into Urach to be dealt with -by the civil authorities. At Harry's suggestion the bodies -of the slain were examined by Sherebiah, to see if Aglionby -was among them; but he was not recognized; it was -probable that he had escaped. Before the castle was finally -deserted, Aglionby's room was searched. In a wallet -beneath his bed a large number of papers was found, -consisting of letters, tavern bills, private memoranda, gazettes, -and a parchment conferring the rank of captain in the -dragoons of the Elector of Bavaria upon Ralph Aglionby, late -of the Preobrashenski regiment of his imperial majesty of -Muscovy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Harry looked through all these papers himself, hoping to -find some clue to the inveterate animosity of Mr. Berkeley. -But though he was disappointed in this, he discovered -three papers which seemed to him of particular interest, -and which he kept carefully apart from the others. The -first was a brief note in French from Monsieur de Polignac, -written from the head-quarters of Marshal Tallard, -congratulating Aglionby on his commission in the Bavarian -forces, and asking him to meet the writer as soon as -circumstances permitted. From this Harry concluded either -that Polignac had not been concerned in the attempt to -drown Aglionby in the Merk, or that he was a man of -consummate and unblushing duplicity.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The second was a letter from Mr. Berkeley himself, -written long before. The squire spoke of enclosing -money, and referred to the matter of H—— R——, -hoping that the captain would make a better job of this -commission than with the M—— M——, by which Harry -understood the name of the vessel that had carried him -down the Thames. The letter continued:</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"I shall require of you cleare proofe of your profess'd Zeale in -my service before I despatch any further Remittance. It will -beseeme you to send me an Attested Copie of such </span><em class="italics">Forme of -Certificate</em><span> as is usual in Holland. Let nothing stande in the -way of this moste necessarie Document; I doubt not that -among the </span><em class="italics">Notable People</em><span> with whom you at present consorte -there will be founde a </span><em class="italics">respectable</em><span> Attorney to whom the -Businesse may be with suretie confided."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>This letter left no possibility of doubt that Mr. Berkeley -was prepared to stick at nothing to remove Harry; but it -threw no light on his motive, and Harry was as much -perplexed as ever.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The third of the papers was a letter from a certain -Anne Consterdine in Westminster, addressed to Aglionby -at the Hague.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"This is to advise you", it ran, "that the Packett from -M. de P—— despatch'd by the hands of the Honnest Captin -came safely to my hands. The Gratification that you use to -recieve will be pay'd to you at the same Place as afore. I am -bid by the </span><em class="italics">Friende</em><span> at St. J—— to say that besides this your -Name & Services have been noted with a speciall Marke, & will -be </span><em class="italics">rewarded</em><span> with all Rightfull Diligence when the </span><em class="italics">Good Shippe</em><span> -you wot of comes safe to Port."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>To Harry this letter was a mere enigma; it bore no -special significance; but he gained enlightenment when -he showed it to Fanshawe. That young man was three -years older than Harry, and had moved in a more varied -society.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"By Jove!" he exclaimed, on reading the letter, "your -friend Aglionby has many irons in the fire. 'Tis clear he -is a go-between, and the correspondence, being betwixt -Westminster and the Hague, can mean but one thing. -The 'good ship', too—what can that be but the ship -that is to convey the Pretender to England to assume -his father's crown? Your Aglionbys and Polignacs are -Jacobites, Harry; there will be another bone to pick with -them."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The plunder was packed into Prince Eugene's coach; -the wounded dragoons were set on horseback and taken -into Urach for treatment. Then, after the destruction of -what ammunition remained in the castle, Harry rode with -his comrades and Eugene's three dragoons from the -memorable scene, and before sundown entered the confederate -camp at Gros Heppach. The news of their coming had -been already spread by a man riding in advance, and their -entry was made amid the clamour of thousands of shouting -men and drums and fifes. In a sort of triumph Harry was -escorted to head-quarters, where, in the presence of -Marlborough and Eugene and officers of their staffs, he had to -tell over the story of the ruse and the subsequent siege. -He remembered afterwards how differently the two great -generals had heard him. Prince Eugene ever and anon -broke into exclamations, slapped the table, crossed and -uncrossed his legs, was up and down, restless and excited. -Marlborough listened throughout with the same tranquil -attentiveness, scarce moving, saying never a word. When -the story was ended, Eugene cried impetuously:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ma foi, my lord, this is a lad of mettle. He has done -right worthily, and merits much at our hands. For -myself, I beg him to accept at once this ring; you did me a -gallant service, Monsieur, and it will not displease you to -wear as a token of my thanks a ring from the finger of -Eugenio von Savoye."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I add my thanks to his Excellency's," said Marlborough -quietly. "If I mistake not, my secretary already -has your name on a list for advancement; it is a long list, -but no name has more merit than yours. You will see to -it, Mr. Cardonnel, that Mr. Rochester is not overlooked."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Parbleu, my lord!" exclaimed Eugene, "I am for -speedier measures. The lad is an officer of Dutch dragoons, -I believe. I ask for his services as aide-de-camp to -myself; and, ma foi, I give him a commission in my own -hussars. Monsieur, you will not object to the transfer?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Your Excellency does me too much honour," said -Harry, his breath almost taken away by such good fortune.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That is settled then, with my Lord Marlborough's -consent?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have no objection, your Excellency. And the young -man could not be in better hands."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then I will see your colonel, Monsieur, and the matter -shall be arranged as speedily as possible."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Harry felt some natural elation at this surprising change -in his fortunes. He was a little amused, too, to think that -this was the third time he had come under Marlborough's -notice, and each time the benevolent intentions of the duke -had been anticipated. He could not but contrast Prince -Eugene's impetuous generosity with Marlborough's placid -goodwill; it was not till long afterwards that he -understood what obstacles lay in the duke's way. Marlborough -was continually being pestered with applications from -people of importance at home on behalf of their friends -and connections; and in the then state of politics he could -not afford to set aside the requests of those whose support -he was so deeply concerned in retaining. Harry never -had reason to doubt the kindness of Marlborough's feeling -towards him, and as he gained knowledge of the complex -intrigues in which the public men of those days were -enmeshed, he thought of the duke without bitterness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Before many days he was gazetted captain in the Imperial -service, and left his regiment to join Prince Eugene. -His departure was signalized by a banquet got up by his -fellow-officers, at which he was embarrassed by the many -complimentary things said of him. He parted from his -old comrades with regret, tempered by delight at the -prospect of close service with the great general who had -so highly honoured him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Since his return to camp, he had remarked a strange and -unaccustomed moodiness in Sherebiah. The worthy fellow -went about his duties with his usual care and punctuality, -but he was abnormally silent, seldom smiled or hummed -country songs as he had been wont to do, and appeared -to be in a state of chronic antagonism to Max Berens, -whom Harry had taken as additional servant since their -adventure together. Harry affected to ignore Sherebiah's -change of manner; but in reality it amused him, and he -was in constant expectation of something that would bring -matters to a crisis.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>One morning Max came to him in a state of exaltation. -Prince Eugene, unwilling that a man who had worn his -clothes to such good purpose should remain unrewarded, -had not only presented him with the suit, but had -purchased for him the Zum grauen Bären on the Urach road. -Max said he was loth to leave his new master, but could -not throw away so good a chance of settling in life, and -added that as Mr. Rochester's Englishman apparently -disliked him, the prince's gift had come most opportunely.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Max had hardly left Harry's presence when Sherebiah -entered. He doffed his cap and fingered it uncomfortably, his -usually cheery face wearing a portentously lugubrious look.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, Sherry, what is it?" asked Harry.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, 'tis like this, sir. 'Tis a sayen, a' b'lieve, when -in Rome do as the rum uns do. These be furren parts, -and there be furren ways o' doen things. Seems like now -as if I bean't no more use, and I've been a-chawen of it -over, and the end on't is, I be come to axe 'ee kindly to gi' -me my discharge, sir."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Indeed, Sherry! you surprise me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You see, sir, I be nowt but a Englishman,—a poor -honest Wiltshire man; you can't make a silk purse out o' -a sow's ear, and nothen'll make a furrener out of a -home-spun countryman."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's true enough, Sherry, but you're right as you are."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nay, sir, axen your pardon. True, I ha' still got a bit -o' muscle, and can handle a sword featly; but I'm afeard -I can't brush a coat nor fold a pair of breeches like a -furrener, let alone wearen on 'em. Zooks! suppose a man -do get inside of a high prince's goodly raiment, do it make -un a whit the better man?—I axe 'ee that, sir. Many's -the time I've seed a noble coat on a scarecrow in a -turmut-field, sir."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Harry remembered that of late Max had made the care -of his clothes his special province.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Furren ways and furreners," continued Sherebiah, -"I can't abide 'em, and but for bein' a man o' peace I'd -find it main hard to keep my hands off 'em, be they in -prince's fine linen or their own nat'ral smalls, sir."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You don't like foreigners, eh?—Katrinka, eh?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sherebiah was nonplussed for a moment, but recovered -himself with his usual readiness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, but there's a deal in the bringen up, sir. You can -break a colt, and tame wild beasts, and make summat o' -crabs wi' graften. Katrinka be a young wench, and -teachable; bless 'ee, I've teached her how to fry a rasher and -make a roly-poly; her be half Wiltshire a'ready, and sings -the song o' turmut-hoein' like a bird. And 'tis my thought, -sir, bein' discharged, to have our names cried and do the -lifelong deed, and goo home-along and bide wi' feyther."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, if your mind's set on it, I suppose I must be -content to lose you both."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sherebiah ceased twiddling his cap and looked startled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Both, sir!—did I rightly hear 'ee say both?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, you and Max."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hoy! be it the holy state o' matrimony wi' he too?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I shouldn't wonder. Prince Eugene has made him a -present of the Zum grauen Bären inn, and he'll want a -wife to help him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sherebiah looked thoughtfully at the floor.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The striplen be a good enough feller," he said slowly. -"Barren his furren blood, which he couldn't help, poor -soul, he bean't a bad feller. He looks uncommon spry in -the prince's noble garments—ay, he do so."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sherebiah paused, and began to twiddle his cap again. -Harry waited patiently.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm a-thinken, sir, 'twould be onbecomen in a Wiltshire -man to let his duty goo by, in furren parts an' all. Bean't -in reason for both to take our discharge all o' a heap, and -if the young man Max goos, I bides, leastways till 'ee set -eyes on a plain Wiltshire man as 'ee'll fancy better."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, that's all right, Sherry. Now I think the best -thing you can do is to go and wish Max good luck."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He could not help smiling at Sherebiah's obvious relief -at the turn things had taken. Sherebiah heaved a deep -sigh; then, as he observed Harry's amused expression, a -broad grin overspread his features, and he moved away.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With the arrival of Prince Eugene the campaign entered -upon a new phase. Dissimilar as they were in character -and temperament, the prince and the duke at once became -fast friends. Eugene not merely fell under the spell of -Marlborough's personal force of character; he recognized -his transcendent genius, and threw himself with enthusiasm -into his plans. Unluckily, the Prince of Baden was -a man of a different stamp. He was a soldier of the old -school, brave as a lion, but wanting in judgment, cautious, -methodical, a stickler for form. He joined the others in -counsel at Gros Heppach, and being the eldest in rank -expected that they would yield him the chief command. -But the execution of their plan, so daringly conceived, -demanded qualities he did not possess, and Marlborough -had to exercise all the tact and patience of which he was -so consummate a master. With much difficulty he -persuaded the prince to share the command with him on -alternate days, but not all his diplomacy availed to induce -him to depart for the Rhine army. He insisted on -remaining with Marlborough on the Danube, and Eugene had -reluctantly to accept the other charge. On the 14th of -June, therefore, Eugene left for Philipsburg, to watch -Marshal Tallard, who was marching along the Rhine to -join forces with the Elector of Bavaria. Harry -accompanied him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then began a fortnight of wearisome marching, in cold -and rainy weather. The Elector of Bavaria was by this -time aware that Marlborough's design was to attack him, -and in order to cover his dominions and check the -confederate army until the expected reinforcements reached -him he sent General D'Arco to occupy the Schellenberg, -a height commanding Donauworth, on the north bank of -the Danube. Hearing from Eugene that Tallard and -Villeroy were at Strasburg organizing these reinforcements, -Marlborough decided immediately to attack the -Schellenberg. It happened to be his turn of command; -he knew that if the day was allowed to pass Baden would -find reasons for postponing the attempt, and after a hard -march he threw his weary troops upon the position and -carried it with heavy loss against an obstinate defence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A diplomatic attempt to detach the Elector from his -alliance with France having failed, Bavaria, now open -to the confederates, was put to fire and sword. -Marlborough, one of the humanest generals that ever lived, -refused to allow his own forces to engage in the work of -burning and pillage, and did his utmost to restrain the -excesses of the German soldiery.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Eugene meanwhile, having failed to prevent the junction -of Tallard with Marsin and the Elector of Bavaria, paid -a hurried visit to Marlborough at his camp at Sandizell to -concert operations against the now formidable enemy. -Luckily, Prince Louis of Baden agreed to lay siege to -Ingolstadt, and his colleagues were relieved of the presence -of one whose captious temper was a continual stumbling-block.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>During Eugene's absence news reached his camp that -the enemy were hastening towards Lauingen with a design -to cross the Danube. Harry was despatched to Sandizell -with this important information. He met the prince on -the road back; the latter immediately returned to -Marlborough, who decided to reinforce him, and moved his -own camp to Schönefelt, nearer the Danube, in order to be -able to co-operate with him should occasion arise. Late -at night on Sunday, August 10, Eugene sent word to -Marlborough that the enemy had crossed the river at -Lauingen. Marching out at once he joined the prince, -and early on Tuesday morning they went towards -Hochstadt, where they intended to make their camp. On a -hill two miles east of that town they caught sight of some -squadrons of the enemy. Not knowing whether this was -merely a reconnoitring party or the advance-guard of the -main force, the two generals mounted the church tower -of Dapfheim, and through their glasses saw that the whole -army of the enemy was in full march in their direction, -and that a camp was being marked out on the very -ground chosen by themselves. They instantly determined -to attack.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On the north bank of the Danube, at the head of a loop -of the river, lies the little village of Blindheim, or, as it was -spelt by Marlborough, Blenheim. At the eastern extremity -of the loop the Danube is joined by the brook Nebel, -shallow and narrow, formed by many rivulets flowing from -a range of wooded hills three miles to the north. In those -days the ground between these various branches was an -undrained swamp. The Nebel flows through two villages, -Unterglau a mile above Blenheim, Oberglau three-quarters -of a mile farther north.</span></p> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 100%" id="figure-110"> -<span id="plan-of-the-battle-of-blenheim"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="Battle of Blenheim, 13th August, 1704." src="images/img-365.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">Battle of Blenheim, 13th August, 1704.</span></div> -</div> -<p class="pnext"><span>Tuesday night was spent in preparation for the coming -battle. At three o'clock on Wednesday morning the -confederate army moved slowly out. A light mist hung over -the ground, but after three hours' march they came in -sight of the enemy, and the cannon opened fire while the -troops deployed into line.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The enemy, west of the Nebel, were in two main divisions, -the right under Tallard resting on Blenheim, the -left under Marsin and the Elector of Bavaria higher up the -brook, occupying the villages of Oberglau and Unterglau, -the rear being in the village of Lutzingen. On the -confederate side, Eugene commanded the right, opposite -Marsin, while Marlborough was opposed to Tallard.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The confederate troops, composed of English, Germans, -Dutch, and Danes, were all in the highest spirits. The -victory of the Schellenberg had heartened them; they had -unbounded confidence in their generals. As he mounted -his horse that morning Marlborough said quietly, "This -day I conquer or die," and officers and men alike caught -the infection of his brave, calm spirit.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The ground on which Prince Eugene's division was to -be posted was broken by branches of the Nebel and became -uneven as it rose towards the hills. For this reason -it took the prince some time to get his men into position. -Marlborough's force was earlier posted, and he occupied -the interval until he should hear from Eugene that all -was ready by having prayers read at the head of each -regiment. About twelve o'clock a message came from -Eugene that he was prepared. "Now, gentlemen, to your -posts," cried Marlborough to the officers with whom he -had been breakfasting. Up sprang the big Lord Cutts, -deputed to open the attack on Blenheim—a gallant leader, -nicknamed Salamander from his careless daring under fire. -Up sprang General Churchill, and galloped off towards -Unterglau, already set on fire by the cannonade. Up -sprang General Lumley, hero of the cavalry charge at the -Schellenberg. From brigadier to bugler, every man was -determined to "conquer or die".</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Blenheim was filled with French, seventeen battalions of -Tallard's best troops hampering each other's movements -there. So strongly was the village defended that the -English troops were twice compelled to retire. -Marlborough's foreseeing eye marked the urgency of the -moment. The enemy must be prevented from pursuing -their advantage. In spite of artillery fire in flank and -cavalry charges in front he got his horse across the stream -and the intervening marshes. Tallard was late in meeting -the movement. He allowed the first line of English to -form up on his own side of the brook before he ordered -a strenuous attack. Then Marlborough reinforced his -lines, and having assured himself that they could hold -their own, galloped to the left to see how things were -faring toward Blenheim.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Meanwhile on the right Eugene had fought with varying -success. A dashing cavalry charge broke the enemy's -front line, but from the second his horse recoiled, and he -brought up his Prussian infantry to stem the tide. At -Oberglau also the Prince of Holstein's division was thrown -into confusion by the gallant Irish brigade, which flung -itself upon the Germans with the fierce valour for which -these exiles were renowned. Here, too, Marlborough's -all-seeing eye marked the crisis. Galloping to the point -of danger, he ordered up battalions and squadrons that -had not yet been engaged, and in his turn threw the Irish -into confusion.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The summer afternoon was drawing on; for five hours -the battle had raged, and neither side had yet gained a -substantial advantage. But soon after five, having seen -all his cavalry across the Nebel, the duke rode along the -front, and gave orders to sound the charge. At the -trumpets' blare 8000 horsemen, splendidly mounted, moved -up the slope in two lines towards the enemy, first at a -gentle trot, quickening their pace until it became a gallop. -One slight check from the terrible fire of the French -musketeers, then they swept forward irresistibly. The -enemy recoiled, broke, fell into disorder, and fled, the -infantry towards Hochstadt, the cavalry towards -Sondersheim, on the river bank. Then was seen Tallard's fatal -mistake in crowding so many men into the narrow streets -of Blenheim. Catching the panic from their flying -comrades, they turned hither and thither, not knowing how -to find safety. Some plunged into the river, only to be -borne away on its swift current and drowned. Others -sought to escape towards Hochstadt, but every avenue -was blocked. In rage and despair they maintained a -stubborn fight until the evening dusk descended, and the -hopelessness of their plight counselled surrender.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At the head of his shouting cavalry Marlborough -himself had chased thirty squadrons down the steep bank of -the Danube to destruction. He had but just returned -when he was met by an aide-de-camp with a prisoner no -less notable than Marshal Tallard himself. The duke put -him into his own coach, and sat down to pencil that famous -note to his duchess which gave England the first tidings -of this glorious victory.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The victorious army bivouacked on the field, taking -possession of the enemy's standing tents, with a great -store of vegetables and a hundred fat oxen ready skinned -for the pot.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>During this great action Harry had been hither and -thither in all parts of the field, bearing Eugene's orders -to his divisional commanders. Of the details of the fight -he saw little, but was well pleased at the close of the -day when the prince thanked him in the presence of his -staff, and invited him to his own supper table.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>During the next few weeks the troops marched towards -the Rhine, the duke's objective being Landau, which he -hoped to take before the close of the campaign. One -afternoon Harry went on in advance with Sherebiah from -Langenhandel to Weissembourg, to secure quarters for -Prince Eugene. His errand accomplished, he was sitting -at dinner in the inn when through the open window came -the sound of hubbub in the street.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What is it, Sherry?" he asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Pears to be a crowd of Germans a-setten on to a -wounded Frenchman, sir. He have his arm strapped, -and——why, sakes alive! 'tis black John Simmons hisself."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Indeed!" cried Harry, rising. "Then the captain -will be near at hand. Out and bring the fellow in."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sherebiah issued forth and shouldered his way through -the growing crowd. When Simmons caught sight of him, -his jaw dropped and he turned to make away; but Sherebiah -was at his heels in a twinkling, and soon he dragged -him through the throng and into the inn. The man -looked even more woebegone than when Harry had last -seen him, and his drawn face betokened keen suffering.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Cotched again!" said Sherebiah. "Stand there afore -Master Harry and speak your mind."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How come you here, Simmons?" asked Harry.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The man explained that after the rout at the castle he -had escaped with his master to the Elector's camp and -been with the army at the battle of Blenheim. He had -ridden out of the fight with Aglionby, but being wounded -had fallen from his horse and been callously left to his -fate by the captain. Contriving to evade capture, he -had wandered from village to village, and, reaching -Weissembourg, had been sheltered there by a cottager until -all his money was gone. Then he was turned out neck -and crop, and was being hustled out of the village when -Sherebiah intervened. His wound had not been properly -treated, and he was in a sorry plight.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Harry could not help pitying the poor wretch whose -service had been so ill-requited by his master. Properly -he was a prisoner of war—one of the 13,000 who had -fallen into the hands of the victors. But he was a -fellow-countryman after all, and possibly had been an honest -fellow until he came under Aglionby's sinister influence. -Harry had not the heart to let him go to his fate.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sherry, look to his arm," he said. "Let us see what -sort of a leech Jacob Spinney made of you. Then give -him some food and find him a lodging."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Several days passed, and Harry, in the bustle of camp -life, had almost forgotten the incident, when one morning -Simmons presented himself and asked to be allowed to -speak a word. His arm was nearly healed, and he looked -a cleaner, trimmer fellow.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, Simmons!" said Harry, "you're better, I see. -What have you got to say?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"First to thank you, sir, for your kindness, which I know -I don't deserve. Sherebiah Minshull has treated me well."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm glad of that. Now is there anything else I can -do for you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I've been thinkin', these few days, sir, and ponderin' -on my past life; and there's a thing I believe you ought -to know."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, speak up, man."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Tis summat I heard pass between Cap'n Aglionby and -the Frenchman, sir."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's enough: I'm not interested in the doings of -your rascally employer."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But you are, sir, unless I be much mistaken. The -matter concerns the French lady near Breda, and the -young mistress—partickler the young mistress, sir."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Harry was now all attention.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Speak on then, and use few words."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Simmons then related that, some few days before the -battle of Blenheim, Monsieur de Polignac had come secretly -into the camp and paid a visit to Aglionby. (Harry -remembered the letter making the appointment he had -found in the castle.) The opening of the interview had -been stormy; Aglionby had accused Polignac of being a -party to the attempt on his life at Breda, and at first -refused to accept his assurances that he knew nothing -whatever of the matter. But Polignac spoke him fairly, -declaring that his connection with Mr. Berkeley had been -limited to planning Aglionby's rescue from prison. The -Captain's suspicions being at last lulled, Polignac opened -up the subject of his visit. Of the remainder of the -interview Simmons had but hazy ideas: he had listened -through a hole in Aglionby's tent, and the conversation -being conducted in low tones and in French, of which he -had only a smattering, he had missed a good deal of it. -But he had heard enough to know that the Mademoiselle -of whom the two spoke was Mademoiselle de Vaudrey, -and that Polignac was bargaining with Aglionby to aid -him in an attempt to get possession of the young lady.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"One thing I heard plain, sir," said Simmons in -conclusion, "and that was that the cap'n was to get a good -bit o' gold when the Frenchman married the lady, and a -good bit more when he came into the estates."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What estates?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That I can't tell you, sir; 'the estates' was all I -heard—</span><em class="italics">terres</em><span> was the word as was used."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh! And why do you betray your master?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, sir, he've led me a dog's life for years; holds -over me that hangin' business on the old road; and then -after I'd served him faithful leaves me to shift for myself -with a bullet in my arm. I don't owe him no thanks."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Harry stood in thought for a few moments.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You're a Londoner, I think, Simmons?" he said at length.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, sir."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What trade were you bred to?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A joiner, sir."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, if you'll promise me to go straight back to -London and work at your trade, I'll contrive to send you -down the Rhine with the prisoners, and give you a little -money to start you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thank 'ee kindly, sir!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Very well. Sherebiah shall take you to Hanau and -see you safely lodged. Remember, you've your character -to build up afresh. If you stick to your trade, and keep -out of the way of folk who want to use you for dirty work, -you may become a decent citizen yet."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"On my soul I'll try, sir. 'Tisn't every one would give -a poor fellow a chance, and I thank 'ee true, sir."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Harry dismissed the man in Sherebiah's care. He was -greatly disturbed by his news. It was clear that Polignac, -having failed to win Mademoiselle de Vaudrey by fair -means, and by the attempt to bring pressure to bear, so -happily frustrated by Mynheer Grootz, was now determined -to resort to desperate measures. Something must -be done at once to put Madame de Vaudrey on her guard. -He would have liked to convey the warning himself, but -felt the impossibility of asking from Prince Eugene leave -of absence for so long a journey until the campaign was -ended. The only other means open to him was to write. -Couriers were constantly going backwards and forwards -between the armies and the Hague and other towns; he -might avail himself of one of these to send his urgent -message.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Harry lost no time in putting his decision into effect. He -wrote both to Madame de Vaudrey and to Mynheer Grootz, -telling them that Aglionby and Polignac were scheming -to abduct Mademoiselle, and also that they were in league -with the Jacobites in France and England. This latter -fact would give Grootz a free hand in dealing with them, -even if he detected them in no overt act against -Mademoiselle de Vaudrey. It was two days before Harry could -send off his letters, which for greater safety he entrusted -to an official despatch-rider, by permission of Prince -Eugene. The post would take several days; it would be -towards the end of the first week in October before a -reply could be expected.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Time passed away, and Harry was anxiously waiting, -when, two days before the earliest date on which a letter -could be received from Grootz, he was unexpectedly sent -by Prince Eugene on an urgent private errand to Vienna. -He was accompanied by Sherebiah, now again his -constant companion. They made as much speed as possible, -but nearly a month elapsed before Harry was able to -report the success of his mission to the Prince, then in the -confederate camp before Landau. As soon as he had seen -the prince, he enquired whether a letter had arrived for -him during his absence, and felt a great sense of relief -when a packet was given him addressed in Grootz's big -business hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But his feeling was changed to the keenest anxiety -when he found that the letter, though written more than -a week after the date at which Grootz might reasonably -be supposed to have received his letter, made no reference -to the news he had sent, and had clearly been despatched -in entire ignorance of the threatening danger. Long -afterwards he learnt that the courier had been accidentally -drowned in crossing a river at night, and his letters had -been lost. He dreaded to think what might have -happened in the interval. He wrote another urgent letter to -Mynheer Grootz, and despatched it by a special messenger; -but the bare possibility of a mishap alarmed him, and he -could never put the subject from his thoughts. He woke -at night under the pressure of his anxiety; if only he -could himself go to Lindendaal to see that all was safe! -But while the siege was still being prosecuted, and the -prince had constant need of his services, he could not -bring himself to ask for leave.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His difficulty was solved for him by the prince himself. -His evident preoccupation, and a slight mistake he made -in noting down a message, attracted that astute -gentleman's attention. He spoke to Harry on the matter; by -this time they were on such terms that Harry felt no -difficulty in opening his mind; and he explained that -having become aware of a plot likely to injure some -friends of his, and fearing that his letter of warning had -miscarried, he was in considerable anxiety on their behalf.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Naturally," said the prince. "Who are these friends -of yours?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A French refugee lady and her daughter, Monseigneur, -who live near Breda."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah! What is their name?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"De Vaudrey, Monseigneur."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Are they relatives of yours?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, Monseigneur."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A mere matter of friendship, eh?" The prince's eyes -twinkled. "Now, my boy, confess: you are in love."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, indeed, Monseigneur."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, the symptoms are not unusual. You ought -to know best, of course; but in any case you had better -get the matter off your mind. This weary siege cannot -last more than a few days longer; we hear that the enemy -are on the point of surrender; we shall go into winter -quarters immediately, I suppose, and I shall be able to -dispense with your services until the spring. Pack off -to Breda and see your—friends, holding yourself in -readiness, of course, to come back to me when summoned."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Harry was too much pleased at the opportunity of assuring -himself that all was well to think it necessary to make -any protestation about his motives. Thanking the prince, -he finished off one or two small duties and went to arrange -with Sherebiah for their journey. Before he left he came -across Fanshawe in camp, and, without disclosing his -reasons, told him where he was going.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then will you do something for me?" asked Fanshawe -eagerly. "Will you carry a letter for me? I love that -girl, Harry. I can't get over it. I made a mistake last -time. I ought to have known that our English ways -would not answer with French ladies. I spoke to Adèle -herself; I ought to have spoken to her mother. If you -will take it, I will write a letter to Madame de Vaudrey -asking permission to pay my addresses to her daughter; -that may give me a chance; don't you think so, Harry?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't know," said Harry. He felt strangely -unsympathetic with Fanshawe at that moment. "I will -take your letter if you are not long about it: I ride for -Maintz to-night."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thanks, old fellow! Wait till you're in love; then -you'll know how a fellow feels; I shall have no peace of -mind till I know my fate."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A few hours after this, Harry left the camp with -Sherebiah, carrying the letter on which Fanshawe's fate -depended. To save time he had decided to take boat -at Maintz, and sail night and day down the Rhine. Ten -hours later he had bought a big boat, engaged a man -who knew the river, and begun his journey. With the -aid of the stream and oars, and proceeding continuously, -he could save a day or two on the land journey. His plan -was to engage fresh crews at every important stopping-place, -so as to have relays of sturdy oarsmen and to get -out of them all the work of which they were capable. -The Germans were naturally not so eager as himself, -and grumbled a good deal at the exertions demanded of -them. "Unerhört! unerhört!" was the exclamation he -frequently heard from their lips. But he never relaxed -his determination, and found liberal pay a ready stimulus.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Thus, without mitigation of pace, the boat rushed down -the river. As one after another the river-side towns were -passed, Harry felt a satisfaction mingled with an -impatience too great to allow of his taking much interest in -the scenes. The ugly, dirty garrison town of St. Goar, -the fortress of Hesse-Rheinfels, the famous Rat tower of -the Hatto legend, Coblentz, Cologne, Düsseldorf, were -only so many stages of his uneventful journey.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-wages-of-sin"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XXIV</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">The Wages of Sin</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="small">Promenade à Berlin—A Sudden Stop—Grootz Chuckles—Place -aux Dames—The Last Two Miles—Polignac Pays the -Penalty—Zo!</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>About four o'clock on a November afternoon, fine for -the time of year, two horsemen rode up to the inn at -Eyndhoven. Huge clouds of steam rose from their horses -into the cold air; the panting of the beasts told of a forced -pace. Dismounting, the riders called for refreshment and -a change of horses: they were anxious to push on at once.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When their hasty meal was finished, while the master -was paying the bill, the man went into the inn yard and -tried to enter into conversation with a servant standing -there in charge of a large empty travelling carriage.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Whose carriage is that?" he asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Monsieur de Polignac's," was the surly answer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The man started slightly, but no one would have -suspected anything but pure curiosity from the tone of his -next question.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who is it waiting for?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Monsieur de Polignac."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The reply was still more surly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The roads will be heavy for travelling. Bad enough -for horsemen, worse for coaches. Maybe the gentleman is -not going far?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Maybe not."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The Breda road?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What is that to you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No offence, comrade. A man may ask a question, to -pass the time. Bid you good-day!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Seeing that he was unlikely to get any further information -he sauntered off, but disappeared as quickly as -possible into the inn.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mounseer's coach is in yard, sir," he said quietly, -"and a-waiten for Mounseer."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah! Are we in time, Sherry? Call the ostler."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When the man appeared, Harry slipt a coin into his -hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Monsieur de Polignac is making a journey. Tell me -all you know about it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The man replied that the coach had been sent to the inn -two days before. Monsieur de Polignac was expected at -any moment. He had recently sold his estate and was -leaving for Germany. It was thought that he wished -to take his departure quietly, for he had always been -unpopular with his tenants, and he ran the risk of a -hostile demonstration if the time of his setting out were -known. He probably intended to slip secretly away from -his house and make his real start from Eyndhoven. A -large quantity of his baggage had passed through the -town a few days before; but, strangely enough, a carter -coming in had reported that Monsieur's wagons were -going south, which was certainly not towards Berlin, -the alleged destination. On the road they had taken -there was great danger of their falling into the hands of -the French, for it was not more than five or six leagues -from Marshal Villeroy's lines, and Monsieur as a Huguenot -refugee would meet with scant consideration from his -countrymen.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Has Monsieur de Polignac himself been to Eyndhoven -lately?" asked Harry.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, Mynheer; the arrangements were made for him -by an English officer who fought at Blenheim, where the -great duke gave the French such a drubbing a few months -back. He was a masterful man; gave orders that the -horses were to be ready at a moment's notice and to be -kept in good condition. Only this morning a messenger -came with instructions for the coach to be ready by eight -o'clock to-night, with a stock of wine and provisions which -Monsieur will take with him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Harry was perturbed at this news. It was clear that -Polignac intended to depart in haste; but whether on -political grounds, having found his character as spy -detected, or in pursuance of the plot hinted at by -Simmons, it was impossible to know. If the latter, there -was certainly not a moment to lose, and it behoved to -push on with all speed to Lindendaal. Fresh horses had -been waiting for some minutes. Harry and Sherebiah -were soon in the saddle, and set off at a gallop along -the miry road, into the gathering night.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Some hours previously a traveller approaching Lindendaal -from the opposite direction had passed through Breda. -He had found it impossible there to get a change of team -for his coach; all the horses in the town were out, -conveying to their homes the gentry of the countryside who had -come into Breda for a grand ball given the night before by -the officers of the garrison, the finale of a week of -entertainments. Not even Mynheer Grootz's liberal offers -sufficed to secure a team at once. The motive of his -journey was clearly urgent, for instead of waiting a few -hours until some of the hacks returned, he pushed on at -once with his tired animals to Tilburg, four leagues -farther on the road. There he succeeded in hiring fresh -horses, and without delay continued his journey.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was himself very much fatigued, having risen from -a sick bed on receiving the letter sent him by Harry from -Landau. As he drew out of Oerschot, where the team -was again changed, he pulled up the wooden slat blinds, -and settled himself in the corner of his seat for a short -nap. So much exhausted was he that he was still sound -asleep when, nearly two hours later, the coach reached -the end of the park wall of Lindendaal.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was now growing dark. All at once Grootz was -roused from sleep by the stopping of the coach. In his -half-awake condition he thought that he was at his -journey's end, and was rising to lower the blinds when there -was a shout and the report of a pistol-shot. Wide-awake -in an instant he groped in the darkness for his own pistol. -But just as he laid his hand upon it the coach jolted on -again, throwing him back into his seat. It was rattling -and swaying from side to side, the horses being urged -to their utmost speed. His first impulse was to let down -the blinds and endeavour to get a shot at one of the men -who had waylaid him. Then he hesitated; a sudden -thought had occurred to him; he gave a quiet chuckle, -and peeped through the slats of the blinds, first on one -side, then on the other. He could just see that a -horseman was riding at each side of the carriage, and through -the small window at the back he saw a third following. -He smiled grimly, and, holding his pistol ready, waited -for what he suspected must happen before long.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His own postilion, he guessed, had been killed or -wounded by the pistol-shot he had heard, and the coach -was now driven by a stranger. He was thus one against -four. He might shoot one of them, but would clearly be -at the mercy of the three others. It was a lonely road; -there was nothing for the present to be gained by -resistance, and besides, he had a further reason for biding -his time. Delay would not worsen his own situation; -while if his suspicions were correct the longer he remained -passive the better his purpose would be served.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After a headlong, rattling, bumping flight of about -two miles, as it seemed to Grootz, he heard the horseman -on his right shout an order to the postilion. The -coach was pulled up; the horseman threw himself from -the saddle, and wrenching open the door peered in.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I regret, Madame, the necessity——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He started back, for in the waning light he had just -become aware that there was but one figure in the -carriage, and that clearly the figure of a man.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Triché, morbleu!" he cried in fury. "Someone shall -pay for this. Come out, or I will empty this pistol into -you!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The only answer was the click of a pistol within the -coach, and a flash from the corner. Grootz's weapon -had missed fire. Whipping his own pistol from his belt -Polignac fired; and the Dutchman fell back, hit in the -shoulder. With a cry to his companions Polignac sprang -on his horse, and galloped furiously back along the road -he had come, the other two horsemen hard at his heels. -Immediately afterwards the postilion cut the traces and -set off in haste after his employer, leaving Grootz, the -coach, and one horse to themselves.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Five minutes later, from the Eyndhoven direction, up rode -two horsemen at speed. It was now almost totally dark; -the coach could barely be discerned in the middle of the -road, and Harry, who was foremost, pulled up only just in -time to save his horse's knees. In a moment he was out of -the saddle; Sherebiah was by his side, and while the man -held the horses, Harry, anxiety tearing at his heart, looked -into the coach. There was a huddled heap upon the floor.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Steel and tinder!" he cried to Sherebiah.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A light was struck.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good heavens! it is Mynheer Grootz."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He bent down and touched the wounded man's hand, -fearing he might be already dead. The touch revived -Grootz from his swoon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"On to Lindendaal!" he said faintly and brokenly. -"Leave me! Ladies in danger. Take care. Desperate -men: four; at once!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Loth as Harry was to leave his friend in so ill a plight, -the imminence of the peril to which the ladies were exposed -was predominant.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I will send a man back to you, Mynheer," he said. -"Sherebiah, we must hasten."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The short halt had given the horses time to recover -their wind. They had not travelled far, nor had they far -to go. The two sprang to their saddles, and as they rode -off into the darkness there was a look on Harry's face that -boded ill for Polignac or any of his party. Never before, -even when carried bound on board the </span><em class="italics">Merry Maid</em><span>, even -when his own life had been attempted, had he felt the -overmastering desire for vengeance that burnt within him -now. The sight of his friend and benefactor wounded and -helpless had quickened his indignation with Polignac and -his crew into a fury of resentment, and at the back of his -consciousness there was another and a subtler feeling -which he did not pause to analyse. With eyes staring -into the distance, ears strained to catch the slightest -sound, every sense on the alert, he led the way over the -heavy miry road, Sherebiah a short length behind. If -anyone could have seen the riders' faces he would have -been struck by the contrast between their expressions. -Harry's was grim and tense with white rage; Sherebiah's -round cheeks wore their settled look of cheerful -placidity—the unruffled carelessness of a man of peace.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was a furious gallop, over the two miles from the -halted coach to the gates of Lindendaal. Harry's eager -eyes at length caught a twinkle of light ahead to the right -of the road. A moment later the faint sound of a shout -came down the wind, then the crack of a pistol-shot. -Digging his spurs into his steed's heaving flanks he drew his -sword; it was a matter of seconds now. He flew past -the ruined barn, standing bare and black on the right; -and there, before him on the road, shone a light, from a -carriage lamp as he supposed. Now mingled with shouts -and oaths he heard the clash of steel; in a moment there -loomed up before him at the entrance to the balustraded -avenue a dark still mass, and in the yellow glare of the -lamp he perceived two men on foot fighting desperately. -He was still some yards away when he saw the man -farthest from him shorten his sword and run his opponent -through the body, then with lightning speed prepare to -meet the horseman, whether friend or foe, whose coming -the ring of hoofs had announced. As he dashed forward, -Harry recognized in the sinister features and the wry mouth -the evil face of Polignac. Leaning low over his horse's -neck he made a sweeping blow with his heavy cavalry -sabre that would have cut the Frenchman's spare frame -into halves had he not with rare presence of mind sunk on -one knee and allowed the blade to swish harmlessly over -his head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Harry was carried on for some yards before he could -check the impetus of his horse, and then he found himself -in the thick of a fight in which he could distinguish neither -friend nor foe. A fierce oath on his right, however, -proclaimed the identity of one of the group, and, turning, he -saw the bulky form of Captain Aglionby on horseback -outlined against the light from the distant house. Leaving -Polignac for the moment Harry made straight for his elder -enemy, who was wheeling to deal with the new-comer. It -was no moment for nice sword-play on either side; cut -and thrust, lunge and parry—thus the two engaged in -the dark. Blade clashed on blade, horse pressed against -horse, their hoofs struck sparks; nothing to choose -between the combatants except that Aglionby was between -Harry and the light.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Suddenly the captain made a supreme effort to quell his -assailant by main force for good and all. Rising in his -saddle, he brought his sword down with the full weight of -his arm. But, thanks to the friendly light from Lindendaal, -Harry saw the movement in time. Parrying the swashing -blow with ease, he replied with a thrust that tumbled the -captain groaning from his saddle. The horse plunged and -galloped madly into the night. Harry did not wait to -discover the full effect of his blow, but wheeled round to find -Polignac, the duel on his left having terminated in the -flight of one of the parties and pursuit by the other.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At the moment of wheeling he heard the voice of -Sherebiah at his elbow.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hold, sir! 'Tis done. Mounseer ha' paid his score."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You have killed him?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My sword went through un. He be on ground: no -risin' for he."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then secure Aglionby. He fell from his horse a few -yards up the road."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He himself sprang from the saddle and ran to the door -of the coach. Wrenching it open, he saw by the light of -the lamp Adèle de Vaudrey erect on the seat, supporting -the unconscious form of her mother. The girl's cheeks -were the colour of death; her lips were ashen; upon her -face was the fixed look of resigned despair.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mademoiselle," cried Harry breathlessly, "all is well. -You are safe."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A sob broke from the girl's dry lips; tears welled in -her eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mother has swooned," she said in a whisper.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Harry darted to the canal side, stuck his handkerchief -on the point of his sword and let it down to the water, -returning with it dripping wet to the coach. Bathing the -lady's temples they revived her, and Adèle whispered the -news that they were safe. Madame's nerves were quite -unstrung; incapable of heeding what was said to her she -wept and laughed alternately, to Harry's great alarm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We must get her home," said Adèle.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes; I will find a man to lead the coach. You will -not mind my going: Mynheer Grootz is wounded two -miles away."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, Monsieur Harry, go then at once. I can take care -of Mother."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Harry ran back to the road to find Sherebiah, who in -his absence had made an examination of the ground with -the aid of the carriage lamp. Polignac was stone dead; -his body lay at the very brink of the canal. There was no -sign of Aglionby or of the other two men, though traces -of blood were found on the spot where the captain had -fallen. Of the house party two men were badly wounded; -these Harry despatched to the house for ministration while -himself with Sherebiah hurried back at full speed to -Mynheer Grootz. The coach stood undisturbed where -they had left it. Grootz lay on the seat, conscious but -very weak.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well?" he said, as they appeared.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, thank God!" replied Harry. "The ladies are -safe, Polignac is dead, Aglionby and the rest have fled."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Zo!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Quite content, the merchant said no more. He was -taken at a walking pace to Lindendaal.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="a-bundle-of-letters"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XXV</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">A Bundle of Letters</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="small">Jealousy—Hard Facts—A Special Plea—Family -History—Brother and Sister—Marriage Lines—A -Fair Claimant—Air Castles</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Some hours later, when Madame de Vaudrey had been -composed to sleep, and the three patients made as -comfortable as possible pending the arrival of the doctor, who -had been summoned from the village, Adèle left her -mother's bed-side and joined Harry in the dining-room.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I must thank you," she said, advancing to him with -outstretched hands. "We have always to thank you. It -seems to be fated that you should save us from that -bad man."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He will trouble you no more, Mademoiselle."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Adèle looked a question.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, he is dead."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The girl shuddered, and looked involuntarily towards -the sword at Harry's side.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, it was not I; it was my man."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a look of relief in Adèle's face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How thankful to God we must be that you came in -time, Monsieur!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Did Madame not get my letter?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Did you write a letter?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes; I learnt some time ago that this plot was hatching, -and I wrote twice. The first letter, I know, must have -miscarried, but the second—it should have reached you, -for I am sure Mynheer Grootz must have received a letter -written at the same time. That is why he is here now."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We have been away from home: stay, Monsieur, I will -enquire."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She soon returned with the letter unopened.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It came three days ago," she said. "We have been -for a week in Breda; there were festivities given by the -officers of the garrison, and the servants did not think -to send the letter, knowing that we should soon return. -M. de——he must have found out the time of our -departure, and so planned to waylay us. But we were late -in starting; Mother was fatigued; and I see how it -happened. Mynheer Grootz's coach was taken for ours; when -the—the man found that it was not, he thought it had -been sent on in front to deceive him. Oh, Monsieur Harry, -but for your letter to Mynheer Grootz, and your coming so -soon yourself——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Think no more of it, Mademoiselle. I cannot say how -glad I am that I happened to be able to serve you. -Forgive me; you are worn out; it will not do to have another -invalid, you know——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Adèle smiled in answer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, I will go to bed," she said, "and I do thank you -for Mother and myself."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She clasped his hands again, then ran from the room. -Harry had never seen her so much moved. Hitherto she -had always been so cold, so reserved, seeming to grudge -the few words that courtesy demanded. Even when -something claimed her active help, as in the stratagem -by which Lindendaal had been saved from the raiders -nearly eighteen months before, she had acted, indeed, -with decision and courage, as a good comrade, but had -at once relapsed into her former attitude of aloofness, -almost disdain. With Fanshawe, on the contrary, she -had been frank and gay, ready with quip and jest, gently -correcting his French, merrily laughing at her own -attempts to speak English, never wearying of accompanying -on the harpsichord his west-country songs, which she -quickly picked up by ear. Fanshawe was thoroughly in -love with her—and Harry remembered with a pang that -he bore a letter from Fanshawe to her mother, once more -urging his suit.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Confound him!" he thought, and, his hands tight -clasped behind him, he strode up and down the room -with compressed lips and lowering brow.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He had no doubt now of the relationship in which he -stood to Fanshawe; he was both his rival and friend. -He tried to face the situation calmly. Fanshawe was a -good fellow, an officer in the English army, and heir to -a baronetcy and a fine estate. He could sell out at any -moment, and doubtless enjoy by the liberality of his father -an income sufficient to maintain a wife in something more -than comfort. It gave Harry a pang to contrast his own -position. He had no property, no family influence, nothing -beyond his pay and the income so generously allowed by -Mynheer Grootz. True, he was now in the service of -Prince Eugene, and the circumstances in which he had -joined the Austrian service gave him a good prospect of -ultimate advancement; but it might be many years before -he could venture to ask a lady to share his fortunes. -Besides, if Mademoiselle de Vaudrey was indeed heiress -to an estate, as Simmons had reported, a poor man could -not seek her hand without incurring the suspicion of being -a fortune-hunter: the mere suggestion brought a hot flush -to Harry's cheeks. No; he could but stand aside. -Fanshawe had failed once; he might yet succeed; and if it -should so turn out, Harry could but wish his friend joy -and go his way.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Heigh ho! Some fellows are lucky!" he thought, and, -heaving a tremendous sigh, he went to bed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A good night's rest, and the knowledge that Polignac -could never disturb her again, cured Madame de Vaudrey's -hysteria, and she came down next morning somewhat pale, -but in her usual health. After breakfast Harry took the -first opportunity of finding his hostess alone, to deliver -Fanshawe's letter. She smiled as she took it and noticed -the handwriting.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"From that dear Monsieur Fanshawe, is it not?" she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, Madame."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What can he have to write about, I wonder? Do you -know, Harry?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Fanshawe told me, and—well, he asked me—that is, -I promised to put in a word for him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Vraiment! Then I think I guess the subject of his -letter. Come, mon ami, what have you to say for him, then?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The comtesse watched Harry with a twinkle of enjoyment. -Her mother's eye had penetrated the state of the -case.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Godfrey is a good fellow, Madame; amiable—you know -that; he will be rich some day; he—sings a good song; -he—in short, Madame, he is very fond of Mademoiselle, -and—and——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And would make a good husband, you think? Well, -my dear Harry, I shall tell Adèle that he has written to -me, and repeat what you have said in his behalf; but you -know her: she has a mind of her own; and I can only give -her my advice."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And she left Harry in a tormenting perplexity as to what -her advice would be.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was a week or two before Mynheer Grootz was well -enough to leave his room, and during those days his -kind attendants were careful to avoid all but the most -necessary references to what had happened. He was told -that Polignac was dead and the hue and cry was out after -Aglionby, and his convalescence was not retarded by any -fears on the ladies' behalf. One morning, when the doctor -allowed him to come downstairs, he sent Harry to find -Madame de Vaudrey. It was time, he said, that the -motive of Polignac's recent attempt should be seriously -considered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Madame," he said in French, when with Harry they -were closeted in the reception-room, "it has not yet been -told you, but we have reason to believe that Polignac -urged his suit upon Adèle because he had information that -she is heiress to some estates."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"As she is—heiress to Lindendaal."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, but the estates in question must be of greater -value. Your little estate here is not of so much worth -as to account for Polignac promising large sums to -Aglionby, first on his marriage with Adèle, secondly on her -succession to her property. Tell me, Madame, know you -of anything that could give colour to the beliefs of these -wretches?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nothing, my friend. My husband, as you know well, -was a refugee, an exile: his family estates in France were -confiscated long ago. As for me, I had nothing but my -poor little dowry. No relatives of mine are owners of -estates."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But on Monsieur le Comte's side: his mother: she -was an Englishwoman, I believe?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes. I know little of her; she died very soon after -the birth of her only child, my dear husband."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What was her name?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I do not remember. Certainly I have heard it, but -it is many years ago, and English names are so difficult -to keep in mind."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But Monsieur le Comte—had he not some souvenir of -his mother?—some portrait, or heirloom, or family papers?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I never saw any. But I have upstairs a box in which -I treasure many little things that were his: perhaps you -would like to see it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Certainly. It would be as well."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Madame de Vaudrey sent a servant to a private room -in the turret, whence he returned presently with a -leather-covered brass-studded box. After some search the key -was discovered, the box was opened, and the comtesse -took out, one after another, various memorials of her -dead husband. Among them was a bundle of papers -tied up with ribbon; this she laid with trembling hands -before her friend.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You permit me, Madame?" he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She nodded through her tears.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Grootz untied the ribbon, and unfolded the topmost -paper. A cursory glance showed that it threw no light -on the subject all had at heart. Several other papers -were examined with a like result; then, nearly at the -bottom of the bundle, Grootz came upon a smaller packet -separately tied. The outer wrapper bore, in a faded, -delicate handwriting, the words: "Dernières letters de la -famille de feu ma chère femme". Harry got up and leant -towards him in some excitement.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Wait, my son," said Grootz; "let us proceed with -quietness."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He opened the topmost letter, and read it slowly through.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It tells us nothing," he said. "It begins 'My dear -sister', and ends 'Eustace'. We go to the next."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Unfolding this, he saw at the top the date June 12, 1659, -and an address in London.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"This is in the same hand," he said. "It is cramped; -Harry, your eyes are young; read it, my boy, aloud."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Harry took the letter and read:</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>"MY DEARE SISTER,</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"It will please you to heare the Affaire goes according to -our hopes. The people are well dispos'd to the Gentleman you -wot of, & the rule of the Saintes is abhorr'd of the moste. But -businesse of State holds lesse in your Estimation than the fortunes -of your brother, and I have a peece of Newes that will put your -gentle heart all in a Flutter. What do 'ee think, sweete? You -never had a sister: will you thanke me if I give you one? -There! not to keepe you on tenterhooks, I designe—now is yr heart -going pit-a-pat—to wed: ay, Mary, your brother has met his -fate. This daye weeke the Knot is to be ty'd. I knowe the -questions that at this Newes flocke into your mind: is she black -or faire, tall or short, of court or cottage? I am not carefull to -answer; you shall love her, my sweet; 'tis the fairest, dearest -ladie lucky man ever wonne, yonge, freshe, winsome as you could -wishe. I dare not, as you may beleeve, wed in my owne name; -'tis too perilous as yet, my Businesse being what it is; indeede, -Lucy herselfe knows not of my family, for being so yonge and -simple, she might let fall in an unwatch'd moment what might -bring me to the block. She shall knowe all in due season. I -have not open'd my Designe to our brother, for in truthe I find no -reason to truste him; his warm professions of Zeale for us seeme -to me but Flams. I feare he has play'd throughout a Double -Game. He stands exceeding well with the Godly Partie, & -having been at Paines to enquire thro' a sure friend I can -heare of nothing done in our behalfe, but rather of endeavors -to feather his owne nest. But enough of that; if our hopes are -crown'd, as praye God they may be speedilie, Nicolas will -have——"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Harry paused as he read the name.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>——"Nicolas will have no choice but to quitte the Hall, and -make what Profitte he may of his owne farmes. Ask in yr prayers -that the Happie Daie be hasten'd. And now no more from your -righte loving Brother EUSTACE."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Harry laid the letter down, and looked at Mynheer -Grootz.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why did you pause?" asked the Dutchman.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Twas a thought I had, Mynheer. It may be vain. -Before I say more, will you look at the next paper?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hé!" exclaimed Madame de Vaudrey, "I am -becoming curious."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mynheer Grootz with the same imperturbable calm -unfolded the next paper of the bundle.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"This," he said, scanning it over his spectacles, "is -not a letter; it is a document. It records the marriage, -in the Huguenot church in Paris, on May 2, 1658, of -Louis Marie Honoré, Comte de Vaudrey, aged 34, with -Mary Berkeley,"—he pronounced the name in three -syllables, foreign fashion—"aged 22, daughter of John -Berkeley Esquire of Winton Hall, in the county of -Wiltshire, England."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Tis found!" cried Harry, springing up in excitement. -"We call the name Barkley in England; Madame, Monsieur -le Comte was the son of Mr. Berkeley's sister; he -is the squire of my own village Winton St. Mary; without -a doubt it is his estates to which Mademoiselle is heiress. -What a discovery we have made!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Stay, Harry," said Mynheer Grootz quietly; "did you -not tell me that your squire has a son?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, yes, but now I remember: at home I have heard -it said that Mr. Berkeley was lord of the manor only by -default of other heirs: yes, it comes back to me now: -the villagers did not like him; they grudged him his -estate; he was stepson of the former squire, and -step-brother of the lady who became Comtesse de Vaudrey."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Still I do not understand. The lady had a brother—the -gentleman whose name was Eustace; being employed -in state business, to do with the restoration of your King -Charles, I think, he was doubtless the elder of the two: -he would be his father's heir, and his children after him. -The letter, you see, announces his approaching marriage."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You are right, Mynheer. I heard him talked of, too; -he was killed in a fray with highwaymen on the Dover -road, when he was returning from France, after King -Charles came back, to claim his estates. Yes, the squire's -family history is well known in the village; but I never -heard of a Mistress Eustace Berkeley; perhaps the -marriage did not take place after all."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It would seem so."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It must be so," cried Harry. "Do you not now see -Captain Aglionby's part? When he stayed with you, -Madame, six years ago, he must have discovered Monsieur -le Comte's relationship with Mr. Berkeley; that explains -his hold over the squire; it explains also the scheme -arranged between him and Monsieur de Polignac. Indeed, -it is clear as daylight: the captain bled Mr. Berkeley on -pretence of keeping his secret; and he sold that secret -to Polignac."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The odious man!" exclaimed Madame de Vaudrey, -who sat in a state of perfect amazement as link after link -was added to the chain.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A very villain!" said Grootz, smiting the table. -"Madame, it appears that Adèle is indeed the rightful -owner of the estates now held by this miscreant Berkeley, -and I, Jan Grootz, will make it my business, as soon as I -am recovered, to see that right is done."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And it is to Harry that we owe it all! Oh, my dear -Harry, Adèle shall thank you! If only my dear husband -could have lived to bless you too!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Zo!" exclaimed Grootz. "But, Madame, I have a -thing to say. Adèle shall thank Harry; yes; but I say -tell her nothing until I have been to London, and with -the aid of English law have overthrown the villain -Berkeley. It will be best; yes, it will be best."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Very well, my friend. Dear Adèle! to think of her as -lady of an English manor! She has thought much of her -English grandmother: she will love to live in England; -I have no English blood in me, and I dread the sea; but -I must live with her, of course I must."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Grootz compressed his lips.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Il ne faut pas vendre la peau de l'ours avant de l'avoir -tué," he said sententiously.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-new-squire"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XXVI</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">The New Squire</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="small">Jonahs—Step-brothers—Whose Gain?—The Female Line—The -End of the Story—Treason—The Fleet—In Italy with -Eugene—Home—Adèle Studies Geography—Lady -Bountiful—Minshull Remembers—A Warning from -Mr. Tape—Mr. Tape at Hungerford—Exit Harry -Rochester—At the Gate—A Royal Feast—What's in a -Name?—A Rustic Moralist—Wedding Bells</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Giles Appleyard, giving a flick to the off leader, scraped -his well-rasped chin over the stiff collar of his coat and -addressed the outside passenger who had just mounted -his coach at Basingstoke.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, Willum Nokes," he said, "'tis many a long -day since I set eyes on your noble frame. How's the -wicked world sarven 'ee, Willum?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Fairish, Giles coachman, on'y fairish. A've never bin -the same man since that tarrible day when John Simmons -gi' me the go-by. Ay, I were constable then, a-sarven the -Queen and Sir Godfrey, and wi' the bodies of all the souls -in Winton Simmary under me. Now I be on'y parish -beadle at Basingstoke, sarvant to pa'son, and rulen over -none but the misbehaven childer in church."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He sighed and shook his head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, and th' on'y thing as keeps me above ground is a -journey once a year to th' old place, where I wanders round -a-thinken deep things o' the noble line o' life as used -to be."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, poor soul, 'ee did truly make a gashly fool o' yerself -that day, Willum. Well, better a live fool than a dead -'oss, as you med say."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"An' yerself, Giles—you looks hale an' hearty as ever I -seed 'ee."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, Willum, I goos up an' down the world rain or -shine, merry as a grig."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Ee must see a powerful deal o' life, Giles; all sarts an' -perditions o' men, as pa'son sings in church. Who med be -your insides to-day, if I med axe so homely a quest'on?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Only two to-day, Willum. There be little travellen -for a week or two arter Christmas. One on 'em be a Dutch -skipper; I mind I carried un once afore; ay, 'twas the -same day as young pa'son Rochester and Sherry Minshull -rode a-top, all agwine to Lun'on. Young pa'son be now a -sojer, so 'tis said, an' hob-a-nob wi' the mighty o' the earth. -The way o' the world, Willum; some goos up, like young -pa'son; some goos down, like Willum Nokes; some goos -steady, like Giles Appleyard; eh, soul?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, 'tis constables goos down, a' b'lieve. But who -be your other inside, coachman?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, no one an't telled me, but I'd take my affidavy -afore any justice o' peace 'tis a limb o' the law. I knows -they sart. They ought to pay double; for why? 'cause -bean't safe to carry; last time I carried a lawyer fore off -wheel broke as we trundled through Winterslow. When -I seed this chap at Angel and Crown this marnen, says I -to myself, 'Zooks!' says I, 'what poor mortal soul be -agwine to suffer now?'"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For the rest of the journey coachman and passenger -exchanged gossip on their common acquaintances. William -Nokes alighted at the Queen's Head, at Winton St. Mary, -and shook his head in sympathy with Mistress Joplady -when he saw the two inside passengers descend from the -coach and enter the inn.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"One a furrener, t'other a lawyer!" he muttered. "Ah! what -tarrible things some poor souls ha' got to putt up wi'!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mistress Joplady, however, welcomed both her guests -with her wonted heartiness, and with her own hands plied -the warming-pan for their beds.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At ten o'clock next morning the two strangers left the -inn together. One of them carried a small portfolio. -They went through the village, across the common, and, -entering the park gates of Winton Hall, walked up the -long drive to the porch and asked whether Mr. Berkeley -was at home. After a few minutes' delay they were invited -to step in, and conducted to a little room in the turret, -where they found the squire in cassock and skull-cap, -warming his withered hands at the fire.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. Berkeley?" said the elder of the two.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That is my name. What is your business?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My name, sir, Jan Grootz. My friend Mr. Swettenham -Tape, of Lincoln's Inn."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You will permit me to take a chair; dank you! And -my friend Mr. Tape; dank you!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At the mention of his name, Mr. Berkeley flashed a -shrewd glance under his bushy white eyebrows at the -Dutchman, then gripped the arms of his chair, and waited.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. Berkeley, my business will not hold you long. -You will pardon if I begin at de beginning and tell you -a little history?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The squire kept his eyes fixed on his visitor, but said -nothing. Taking his silence as permission to proceed, -Grootz settled himself in his chair, with his plump right -hand ready to punctuate his sentences.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Dis history dat I tell you, sir, I hope you will find it -interesting. It is ver much about yourself; you are old -man, but of dose old men, pardon me, who regard -demselves as de most interesting subjeck in de world; zo! -De history begin long ago; zixty-vive year indeed, when -your shadow first zink over dis place." Grootz's hand -made a comprehensive sweep. "You were den Nicolas -Heller, an eleven-year boy; your moder, a widow, she had -married Mr. John Berkeley, a widower, wid two children, -one"—here the forefinger wagged—"Eustace Berkeley, a -nine-year boy; de oder, Mary, a child four year. On your -moder Mr. Berkeley settle de farms of—of——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Winton Chase and Odbury," said Mr. Swettenham -Tape, speaking for the first time.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Zo; de farms of Winton Chase and Odbury; you took -de name Berkeley, and after your moder dese farms should -become yours. Dree years go, your moder die; Mr. John -Berkeley is again a widower, and never marry no more. -War had broke out, he take part wid de king and fight -in de vield, your step-broder alzo whenever he is of age -to bear arms. But Nicolas, poor boy! is not strong, he -is always at home to care for de estates; besides, he -do not love de king; no, Nicolas never love nobody—nobody -but himself."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Grootz paused and bent a little forward in his chair; the -squire had not moved a muscle.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"De king is killed, Oliver Cromwell is ruler in de -land, and after de battle of Worcester, Mr. John Berkeley, -his son and daughter, go for safety to France. But -Nicolas—he find dat he is a Puritan, a saint in heart; he -give money—it was not his to give—to de Parliament side, -and he speak of his stepfader—of de man, mark you, to -whom he owe everyding—as a traitor, a malignant. At -same time he write letters to de traitor in France telling -how he work to keep his estate for him, if chance come he -zall return and enjoy his own. How kind is Nicolas! zo!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Time flows; de chance come; King Charles wears -his fader's crown, but Mr. John Berkeley is not alive -to return alzo. In 1658 he die. But his son, Nicolas' -stepbroder Eustace, what of him? In June 1660 he come -back to claim his inheritance, but he never see his home. -No, on de road he is set upon and murdered."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Still the old man sat rigid in grim silence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"De murder of Eustace Berkeley, whom do it profit? -De men who killed him?—not zo; dey stay not to empty -his pockets. It profit nobody but Nicolas Berkeley. -Dink you not dat is singular? To me it is very singular. -Zo!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Dutchman spoke always with the same careful -deliberation. His tone now became stern.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I come now, Mr. Berkeley, to someding dat interest -you more. Mr. John Berkeley had, not only a son, but -alzo a daughter." The keen-eyed Dutchman noticed a -slight twitching of the squire's brow. "Ah, I thought -dat would interest you! De daughter, Mary, marry in -Paris de Comte de Vaudrey, a nobleman, a Huguenot; -dat is not long before King Charles come back. Her -broder Eustace risk his life to come to England on service -for his sovereign; he write letters to his sister; interesting -letters; I take leave to read you someding he said."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He took the portfolio from the lawyer's hands, selected -a paper from it, and read the following passage:—</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"'I feare he has play'd throughout a Double Game. He -stands exceeding well with the Godly Partie, & having been at -Paines to enquire thro' a sure friend I can heare of nothing -done in our behalfe, but rather of endeavors to feather his -owne nest. But enough of that; if our hopes are crown'd, as -praye God they may be speedilie, Nicolas will have no choice but -to quitte the Hall, and make what Profitte he may of his owne -farmes.'</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"Zo! dis letter, and oders, was received by Madame la -Comtesse de Vaudrey—dat is, Mary Berkeley—when her -husband was absent from Paris. He return; de poor lady -is dying; she leave a little boy. He write to Eustace from -Paris; he get no reply; he write again, dree times in all; -still no reply, and he dink his wife's friends English and care -not any more. As for him, he has pride and keep silence, -and believe Eustace Berkeley is now lord of Winton Hall.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Zo time pass. Den come trouble to de Huguenots in -France, and de Comte de Vaudrey take refuge wid his son -in Holland. He read no English; but he keep dings dat -belong to his wife, among dem de letters of Eustace. His -son Louis marry in Holland a Huguenot lady. Fader, son, -both are dead, but"—he wagged his forefinger impressively—"but -Louis Comte de Vaudrey leave a daughter, Adèle, -and it is on behalf of Mademoiselle Adèle de Vaudrey I -wait upon you to-day. I know well dese dings are not new -to you; I know dat. It is now some years when Captain -Aglionby—an adventurer, a cut-droat—discover how -Mademoiselle Adèle is related to de house of Berkeley. -Already he know someding of you; he have an uncle -Minshull dat live on your estate. He see a chance to -feader his very bare nest, and he take it. You are de -squire, he dink; a rich man; you will pay well to keep -de secret. He come to you; you do pay well; you become -his generous patron, and he do your dirty work. But -sometimes you lose temper, and give him hard words and -close your purse. Perhaps, dink he, he may find yet -anoder rich man who will buy de secret. Such a man is -Monsieur de Polignac. Your Aglionby take money from -you, and bargain wid Polignac to get more money when -he become by marriage owner of dis estate and turn you -out. But de plan is found out; we have settle with -Polignac; he is dead; we search for Aglionby; he hide -himself; and now, Mr. Berkeley, it is your turn. I come -to you to demand, on behalf of Mademoiselle Adèle de -Vaudrey, possession of her property in seven days from -dis present day. My friend Mr. Tape of Lincoln's Inn -have copies of all de papers; he will show dem, at proper -time, to your lawyer. De history is now at end, -Mr. Berkeley. I dank you for your zo-patient hearing. It is -now to you; zo!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Berkeley had spoken never a word. For a few -moments he remained motionless in his chair; then, -lengthening his arm, he pulled a bell-rope at his side. A -servant entered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thomas," said the squire in his thin hard voice, -"show these gentlemen to the door."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Grootz and the lawyer glanced at each other. The -latter gave a slight shrug and began to tie up his -portfolio. Grootz rose.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have de honour, Mr. Berkeley, to wish you good-day."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And with his companion he left the room.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>An hour later the village was startled by the news that -the squire had had a stroke. A man had ridden to -Salisbury for the physician, and the gossips at the Queen's -Head were already discussing the expected succession of -"young squire" to the estates. But in the afternoon the -report was contradicted. The squire had merely been -seized with a fainting fit; he had recovered and was to all -appearance his usual self.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A week passed; Mr. Berkeley had received from -Mr. Swettenham Tape of Lincoln's Inn a formal demand for -the surrender of the property, to which he made no -reply. At the end of the week Mr. Tape filed a suit in -chancery. But the mills of the law grind slowly. Grootz -had returned to Holland, a new campaign had opened, -and Harry Rochester was with Prince Eugene in northern -Italy before Mr. Swettenham Tape had all his affidavits -sworn.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A few weeks before the case was to be opened before -Lord Chancellor Cowper, a bailiff armed with a warrant, -and accompanied by two strong tipstaves, appeared at -the house of a Mistress Consterdine near the Cockpit, -Whitehall. The bailiff gained admittance, and when after -some time he returned to the street he was accompanied -by a tall bulky man in semi-military garb, with whom he -and the tipstaves entered a hackney coach and were driven -to Newgate. The prisoner was at once brought before -the magistrate and charged under the name of Ralph -Aglionby with entering into a treasonable conspiracy on -behalf of the exiled Stuarts. In addition to the letters -taken in his lodging, other papers that had been brought -from Germany were put in by the Crown, proving Aglionby -to have been in the service of Her Majesty's enemies; and -a man Simmons, a joiner in London, who had received a -free pardon, gave evidence that Aglionby had fought with -the Bavarians at Blenheim and elsewhere, holding a -commission in the Elector of Bavaria's forces. His papers -were found to include letters from Mr. Nicolas Berkeley of -Winton Hall, forwarding sums of money to Aglionby in -Holland. The sequel to this discovery was the arrest of -Mr. Berkeley at his inn in Soho, and his inclusion in the -indictment for conspiracy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The trial came on in due course. Captain Aglionby's -connection with the Jacobites was fully established, and -he was sentenced to be transported to the Plantations -for twenty years. Mr. Berkeley's complicity was not so -clearly shown, though he could bring no evidence to prove -his statement that the sums remitted to his fellow-prisoner -were payment for private services totally unconnected with -the Jacobite cause. The circumstances were suspicious, -and the judge considered that he showed great lenience in -condemning Mr. Berkeley to pay a fine of £500. Although -he had for years enjoyed a large income, he had but little -ready money at command. He had spent large sums in -purchasing lands adjoining the Winton property, and the -extravagance of his son had been a constant drain upon -his purse. With the civil action de Vaudrey </span><em class="italics">v.</em><span> Berkeley -pending in the court of chancery, he found some difficulty -in borrowing sufficient money to pay his fine.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The chancery suit came on for hearing. The claimants -had engaged the highest counsel of the day, and brought -a great array of evidence, documentary and oral, from -Holland. Mr. Berkeley's case was ably argued, but the -evidence was irresistible; the decision was given against -him; he was ordered to produce the title deeds of the -property, and to render an account of all that he had -derived from the estates since his illegal usurpation of -them forty-five years before. He wished to appeal; but, -discredited by the result of the trial for conspiracy, he was -unable to raise the necessary funds. He was moving -heaven and earth to overcome his difficulties when -payment was demanded of the sum he had borrowed to meet -the fine, and as the money was not forthcoming he was -arrested and thrown into the debtors' prison in the Fleet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was December before the case was finally decided. -As soon as Mynheer Grootz was released from his business -cares by the armies going into winter quarters, he -accompanied Madame de Vaudrey with Adèle and part of their -household to England, and saw them installed in Winton -Hall. At Adèle's wish, Mr. Berkeley was not pressed -for the costs of the suit he had lost; but his other creditors -were relentless, and determined to keep him in the Fleet -prison until the income from the farms he inherited from -his mother should have enabled him to pay his debts.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was many months before Harry learnt of the success -of Grootz's efforts on behalf of Adèle. In March, 1705, -he left Austria with Prince Eugene for Italy, where the -prince's cousin, Victor Amadeus the Second of Savoy, was -maintaining a difficult struggle against Marshal Vendôme. -He was with the prince at the indecisive battle of Cassano -in August, and spent the winter in Turin. There letters -reached him from England telling how Adèle had taken -up her residence at Winton as lady of the manor, and -when he wrote his warm letter of congratulation he said to -himself that his fate was now sealed. At Turin also he -received a letter from Fanshawe reporting his father's -death and his own determination to sell out and live on -his estate. This news gave Harry a fresh pang, for, though -he knew that Fanshawe's suit had been again rejected, he -felt that as next-door neighbours Adèle and he would see -much of each other, and their constant companionship -might at length end in a match which on many grounds -must be considered excellent.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Next year he served Prince Eugene as aide-de-camp at -the battle of Calcinate in April, and again five months -later at the brilliant victory of Turin, when the prince, by -his total defeat of the Duke of Orleans and Marshal -Marsin, finally saved Savoy from the clutches of King -Louis. His own services did not go unrewarded. The -prince gave him the colonelcy of an imperial dragoon -regiment, and held out hopes that if he remained in the -emperor's service he might before long gain an estate -and a title of nobility. But a few days after the battle, -he received from England a letter which altered the whole -course of his life. It was a short note from Madame de -Vaudrey, written at Winton nearly three months before. -Certain circumstances had come to light, wrote the lady, -that rendered his presence at Winton desirable as soon -as he could obtain leave. It was nearly four years since -the black day on which he had left his home so sadly; -he was hungry for a sight of the old scenes and the old -faces, and felt something more than curiosity to see Adèle -de Vaudrey as lady bountiful of the parish. He went at -once to Prince Eugene with the letter; the prince drew -from him the whole story of his connection with the -family of Lindendaal, and with a twinkling eye consented -to his immediate departure for England.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The French will give us no more trouble here," he -said. "My next battle will be fought on other soil. I -said before, you remember, that you were in love. You -thought not. We shall see. Go home; but the war is not -over. I shall hope to see you at the head of your regiment -in the next campaign."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sherebiah was as much delighted as his master at the -thought of seeing home again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"To tell 'ee the truth, sir," he said, when Harry ordered -him to make preparations for departure, "I be a-thinken -o' Katrinka. I don't feel happy in my mind at the notion -o' her at Winton Simmary wi'out me. Why, old feyther -o' mine, ancient soul as he be, if he knows what a hand -her've got for griddle-cakes—zooks! sir, he'll be a-marryen -her hisself, never thinken as I be more'n a boy."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>One October day Harry and Sherebiah embarked at -Leghorn for the voyage home. Their vessel made quick -sailing as far as Gibraltar, where Sir George Rooke had -planted the flag of England two years before; but was -beset by contrary winds in the Atlantic, beat about for -days in the Bay of Biscay, and reached Southampton sadly -buffeted six weeks after leaving Leghorn. The travellers -lost no time in taking horse, and rode up to Winton Hall -late one November evening. Harry was received with a -warmth of greeting that made him glow with pleasure. -Even Adèle welcomed him with more frankness than she -had ever before shown him, though he detected a different -constraint, a something new in her manner, that puzzled -him. The evening was spent in talking over old times -and the strange events that had happened since their last -meeting. Mynheer Grootz, Harry learnt, had visited -Winton more than once since he had installed Adèle in -her property nearly a year before, and was coming over -to spend Christmas with them. Godfrey Fanshawe, now -Sir Godfrey, was a frequent visitor and had been the -means of introducing them to many of the best people in -the county, who had welcomed Adèle with open arms. -Madame afterwards told Harry privately that Sir Godfrey -had once more proposed to Adèle, and been finally refused. -Adèle herself looked older and more womanly. She had -acquired considerable fluency in English, and was fond -of going about among the villagers, taking the keenest -interest in ways of life and thought so novel to her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But the dear girl is not happy," said Madame with -a sigh. "No, she is not happy. I fear she is home-sick. -We have sold Lindendaal and repaid Mynheer Grootz's -friend who so generously bought up that odious man's -mortgages. But Adèle was happier at Lindendaal than -she is here. She has been restless ever since we came -to England, and you would be surprised to know, Harry, -how she throws herself lately into the details of this -horrible war. The </span><em class="italics">Courant</em><span> comes to us every day by -the coach from London, and the house is littered, perfectly -littered, mon ami, with maps of Italy. Decidedly she is -a changed creature."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mamma," interrupted Adèle, "don't give Monsieur -Harry a wrong idea. I am happy enough, but——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hé! voila!" exclaimed Madame with a little gesture. -"She is happy, but——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And what is this business that required my presence?" -said Harry, to relieve the girl of her manifest embarrassment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh! Adèle must explain that. It has been her affair -always."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Really, Mamma, I think you should explain. You -wrote to Monsieur Harry."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Eh bien! but it was you who told me what to say. -No, I leave it to you: I have no head for affairs, especially -for affairs so complicated. But it is growing late, and -Harry must be tired. We will let him have a good night's -rest: then to-morrow, ma chérie, you can have a whole -morning together."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The morning turned out bright, and after breakfast -Adèle proposed a walk round the grounds. Harry was -nothing loth, and when Madame did not offer to accompany -them, he concluded that, living in England, she had -decided to conform to English ways. In the course of that -ramble Harry heard a story that amazed him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>During the past year Adèle had made many friends -among the villagers, and one friend in particular, old -Gaffer Minshull. She had been specially gracious to him -for the sake of Katrinka, who, however quick she might -be in learning how to cook Wiltshire bacon and to sing -Wiltshire songs, was certainly slow in learning Wiltshire -English. The Lady Squire, as he called her, had become -a great favourite with the old man, and, as she grew -accustomed to his dialect, he talked to her freely about -the village, the late parson, and the late squire, of whom -he was no longer "afeard". Adèle, like everyone else, -had always been puzzled about Mr. Berkeley's hatred of -Harry, and she asked the old man whether he knew of -any reason for it beyond his being the son of the squire's -sturdy opponent, Parson Rochester. Minshull confessed -that he was as much perplexed as she. The old squire's -man Jock had told him of the incident witnessed at the -park gate on the day of Harry's departure for London, -when, seeing him walk by, Mr. Berkeley had looked as -if he had had a shock; and he remembered that Squire -had left the Hall in a post-chaise the next day, though -whither they went Jock never would tell.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This set Adèle thinking. She made further enquiries -of the old man. Had not the squire a brother? At the -question Minshull looked hard at her, and replied with -some hesitation that such was the case; he had a brother, -or rather a step-brother. Adèle enquired what had become -of him; she knew, for Grootz had made no secret of his -discovery; but she asked in order to get more information. -He died, said the old man, on the Dover road; a -fine young man, though he did hold to that false Charles -One and his light son Charles Two. Then insensibly the -old man was led on to talk at large; he seemed anxious -to ease his mind of a burden; and with the garrulity of -old age, and being no longer "afeard" of the squire, he -at length poured out the whole pitiful story.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Forty-seven years before, in '59, when he was a -Republican trooper and his regiment was stationed at -Blackheath, he was passing one morning through London on -his way back to camp after—he was ashamed to confess -it—a riotous night. Suddenly he was called into a church -to witness a marriage. No one was present save the clergy, -bride and bridegroom, and the other witness, apparently -a lady's-maid. In his half-fuddled state he had no clear -recollection of anything beyond the facts that he signed -his name and came away with a guinea.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>About a year later, after the Restoration, when his -regiment was gloomily expecting the order for disbandment, -he was strolling one evening in the direction of Shooter's -Hill, and attracted by a crowd about an inn door. A -young gentleman had been discovered a few miles down -the road, lying unconscious, and severely wounded. He -had been brought to the inn, and soon afterwards his -servant appeared, a Frenchman, who had fled when his -master was attacked by footpads. From him it was -learnt that the name of the wounded man was Berkeley, -and that he was on his way to Winton St. Mary to take -possession of the family estates. Minshull, out of sheer -curiosity, asked with many other bystanders to be shown -the unfortunate gentleman, and to his amazement he -recognized him as the bridegroom whose wedding he had -witnessed nearly a year before. A message was sent -to Winton St. Mary, and two days later Mr. Nicolas -Berkeley appeared on the scene. Minshull meanwhile -had hung about, partly out of curiosity, partly out of -interest in the man whose murder had followed so quickly -upon his marriage.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The wounded man never recovered consciousness. He -died soon after his brother's arrival. Minshull found an -opportunity of speaking to the squire, and condoled with -him on the loss of so handsome a brother, and on the sad -plight of the young widow left to mourn his loss. -Mr. Berkeley had appeared surprised at the mention of a -widow, and asked the trooper to tell him all he knew. -This was very little; he could not remember the church -where the marriage had been performed, nor the name of -the bride; all he was sure of was the identity of the -bridegroom; he did not even remember the name Berkeley. -The squire had shaken his head and frowned: a secret -marriage!—there was something suspicious in that; his -brother had some reason to be ashamed of his alliance: -he would look into it; but for the present it was best to -drop the curtain on the episode. He had then offered the -trooper a situation at the Hall, which Minshull, with no -settled livelihood after nearly twenty years' military -service, eagerly accepted. He received good wages, and by -and by a cottage on the estate. He was well aware that -the squire treated him thus generously to keep his mouth -shut, and though many times he had felt the prick of -conscience, he was so comfortable, and, as time went on, so -much afraid of the squire, that he had never broken the -tacit pact between them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Old Minshull's story worked so powerfully upon Adèle's -imagination that she became at length ill at ease. What -had become of the bride whose marriage he had witnessed? -Adèle remembered how Eustace Berkeley had spoken of -her in his letters to Mary de Vaudrey; she remembered, -too, that he had married under a feigned name. Her -uneasiness grew so intolerable that she persuaded her mother, -not without difficulty, to put the facts before the same -lawyer whom Mynheer Grootz had employed—Mr. Swettenham -Tape of Lincoln's Inn. He warned her that enquiry -might result in the loss of her property, but she insisted on -an investigation, and as it promised to be an interesting -enquiry, the attorney took it up with enthusiasm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>One of his first steps was to interrogate Mr. Berkeley's -man Jock, who had driven with his master to Hungerford -on that November day three years before. As the result -of the interview, the lawyer himself made a journey to -Hungerford, where he called at the parsonage and had a -conversation with the vicar, enquiring particularly about -his predecessors in the living. He learnt that the former -rector had died in 1680 at the age of sixty-eight, leaving -a grandson, his only daughter's child, a young man of -twenty-one who had just taken deacon's orders. The -grandson's name was Rochester. Did the vicar know -anything of the young man's father? Nothing but the -vaguest rumours; it was generally understood that Lucy -Rochester's husband had deserted her a few months after -their marriage, and that was naturally a subject on which -the family would say nothing. Was the lady still living? -She had died ten years before her father. If Mr. Tape -desired further details, there was one person who might -gratify him if she wished: the wife of the landlord of the -Bear Inn, who had been lady's-maid to Mistress Rochester.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The attorney hastened to the inn, engaged a room for -the night, and took the first opportunity of having a gossip -with Mrs. Pemberton, the hostess, a comely, pleasant old -dame of near seventy years. She had the keenest recollection -of the one romantic incident of her life. Mistress -Lucy!—of course she remembered the sweet pretty -creature. She had been with her in London the year before -the King came back, when she was visiting her aunt. -And Mr. Rochester, too—ah! such a handsome young -gentleman; but a wicked deceiver, she feared. He had -protected Mistress Lucy from footpads one evening: -that was the beginning of it, and the end was a marriage, -and a sad end it was, for Mr. Rochester went away to -France three months afterwards, on some urgent business -which he did not explain, and he never returned. -Mrs. Rochester remained for nearly a year in London, then -returned to her father at Hungerford with her infant son, -a bonny boy who grew up a blessing to her, and became a -parson, and died only three years back at Winton St. Mary, -she had heard.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Tape asked whether she remembered the church in -which the wedding had taken place. To be sure she did; -it was St. Andrew's Undershaft; she remembered how dark -it looked, and how awed the other witness had appeared -to be, a rough soldier who was fetched in from the street, -and was a little overtaken with liquor. And, strange to -say, this was the second time she had been asked about -this incident of long ago, a miserable-looking old -gentleman having called upon her three years before; after -talking with her, he had left the house without so much as -asking for a tankard of her home-brewed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On returning to London, the attorney examined the -register of St. Andrew's Undershaft, and made a copy of -the entry of a marriage on June 19, 1659, between Eustace -Rochester, bachelor, of St. Andrew's parish, and Lucy -Fleming, spinster, of Hungerford. The information given -by Gaffer Minshull and Mrs. Pemberton was then -embodied in affidavits, and the whole case being complete, -Mr. Tape laid the result of his investigations before -Madame de Vaudrey and her daughter, and asked for -their instructions.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Harry had listened to Adèle's story, as they rambled -round and round the park, with a strange mixture of -emotions. Astonishment was perhaps the dominant one, -but there was also the happiness of knowing something -about his family, and dismay at the knowledge that he, and -not Adèle, was the rightful owner of the Berkeley estates.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, then you are my cousin, Adèle!" he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, Harry,—and you are head of the family."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How plain it makes everything! And do you know, -I pity the wretched old man who has lived for nearly fifty -years with these crimes on his conscience. He must have -led a miserable life."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That is why I am glad all is discovered. I should lead -a miserable life too if I found I was enjoying what did -not belong to me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But that is nonsense, Adèle. You don't imagine I -shall take the estates? Not I. The good folks here adore -you already; I won't take from them their lady squire."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You must."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, no! Only weak or foolish sovereigns abdicate, -Adèle: you are not weak or foolish. Besides, I have my -career. I am on the high road to preferment. Prince -Eugene has given me a regiment, and—I didn't mean -to tell you this—promises me an estate and a title in -Austria."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And you know perfectly well that you would rather -be plain Mr. Berkeley, an English squire, than count or -prince or royal highness in Austria. No; I will not listen -to you: if you insist on being an Austrian—well, I shall -give up the estates to the crown: Queen Anne shall be lady -of the manor."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You cannot: you are not of age, and Madame would -never hear of it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. Henry Berkeley, I have only two years to wait."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They had come round to the gate leading from the park -to the graveyard.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come and see the monument the people put up in the -church to your father, Harry," said Adèle, with a change -of tone. He opened the gate for her; she passed through, -then turned, and said: "It is you or Queen Anne, -Mr. Berkeley."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Harry was on the other side of the gate. They looked -into each other's eyes. He knew her strength of character: -he had no doubt that she would do anything to which she -had made up her mind. He was troubled, and, resting his -arms on the upper bar of the gate, stood thus pondering.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Adèle," he said presently, "but for me you would stay -at the Hall?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If I were the rightful owner, certainly; but now it is -clearly impossible."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not quite impossible, Adèle, even so."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He waited for an answer, but she was unexpectedly -silent, her eyes cast down.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not quite impossible, Adèle. If you will not stay for -any other reason—tell me, Adèle, will you not stay for my -sake?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Still she made no answer, only looked up with a shy -startled glance. But in that look Harry found courage to -repeat his question.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"Never did I ply my fark at such a roaren dinner—never -in my born days; I tells 'ee true, souls."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, I seed 'ee myself, Lumpy, a-scoopen chidlens -an' plum-pudden an' furmenty into your thropple till I -thowt 'ee'd bust. 'Twere noble eatin', to be sure."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, Soapy, an' cost a pretty penny, I warrant. Squire -Harry be a different sart o' feller to old Squire as was. -Never did he gi' us a warmen-up, nor never would, if -there'd ha' bin farty weddens."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why bean't every day a marryen day? 'T'ould keep -all our innards warm an' cosy 'ithout us doen a hand's turn."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'T'ould be the ruin of a poor stunpoll like 'ee, -Jemmy. I'm afeard 'ee'll never be a man, an' if 'ee got -your vittles so easy 'ee'd be more like a fatted calf 'n ever."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah! I knows my dumb brain be weak by natur'. I -mind how dazed I were the black day young pa'son went -to Lun'on, and John painter made Mis'ess Joplady's pictur' -the colour o' sut."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"An' it'll be the colour o' sut to-morrer, souls, I gi' my -word for that. They tells me 'tis treason, but John painter -do blot out Queen's yead to-morrer, and inn turns to -Berkeley Arms again."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Like a 'ooman, changes her name at a wedden.—Ah! here -be neighbour Minshull; a scantling o' cheese and a -mug o' old stingo for gaffer, Mistress Joplady; he'll want -a summat to comfort un, poor aged soul, this night o' -fearsome joy."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"True, Tom cobbler, I be gone eighty-vive. I ha' seed -un home-along, souls; my boy Sherebiah be a man at -last, an' I be proud as a grandfeyther a'ready. Never did -I think my boy an' young pa'son 'd say the awful words in -church the same day. 'I take thee, Addle,' says Master -Harry in a feelin' key, and 'I take thee, Katrinka,' says -my boy when the gentry was done; and they little small -words do have a world o' better or wuss in 'em."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, gaffer; 'ee can sing 'Now lettest thou thy sarvant -depart', wi' a honest mind, hey!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hoy! Not me! I bean't got no vurther 'n 'My soul -doth magnify' yet. I'll bide a bit longer afore I goos to -churchyard, trust me. My boy as was do say there'll -be another wedden afore long; the Dutchman and Mis'ess -Addle's mother be a-comen to't. He've been sweet on -her, a' b'lieve, for many a forlorn day. My boy ha' -carried many a noble gift from the man to th' 'ooman."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Two furreners makes a better match nor one o' one -sart, t'other o' t'other. Mistress Addle be a goodly -maid, nesh as a ripe apple; but her be French; that you -cannet deny; and French and English be like oil and -vinegar."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And what do mix better in a sallet-dressen?—tell me -that, souls."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, Mistress Joplady, we cannet gainsay 'ee on a -matter o' that homeliness; but what med 'ee say o' the -name? Addle! it bean't a very coaxen name for a squire's -lady, be jowned if it be."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Dear lamb! to take her name in vain! You, Soapy -Dick you, we all knows 'ee for a addle-pate; else your -hair wouldn' grow so fiery red. What do a bide-at-home -like 'ee know o' high names an' titles? Addle be the true -French for a bloomy cheek—Sherry Minshull telled me so -hisself. Bean't that the true meanen on't, gaffer?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sherry's yead be full o' rare knowledge, Mis'ess. -But daze me, name or no name, 'tis all one: French her -were, English her be; and if any twanken feller do say her -bean't good, and comely, and a comforten wife for young -Squire—why, old as I be I'll try the thickness of his poll, -I will so."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll help 'ee, gaffer. My weak head cannet make no -goodness out o' Addle, but her gi' me a zilver zixpence for -choppen wood, her did, and if I cracks a poll wi' 'ee, mebbe -her'll gi' me another."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, hers be a good heart, 'tis true. Why, her went -along to Grange and begged and prayed young Sir Godfrey -to putt poor Willum Nokes back into 's ancient place -o' constable. And Sir Godfrey he can't refuse her nothen, -for all her have refused he, as 'tis said; and so wi' noo -year poor Willum'll be back in his little small cottage, -a-rulen over parish in the Queen's name once more."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Such changes as the world do see! Look 'ee, souls, -I be eighty-vive, and I've seed a mort o' things in my time. -I ha' growed like a oak from boy well-nigh to grandfeyther, -an' seed six high and mighty sovrans goo to yearth: two -Jameses, two Charleses, Noll Crum'ell, and Dutch Willum -to end the tale. Ay, the world be full o' ups and downs. -To think, now, that old Squire—him as once I were so -tarrible afeard on—be now eatin' the bread and water of -affliction in a Lun'on prison-house! And they do say as -how his son Piers be joined in matrimony to a Dutch -'ooman o' great tonnage, full o' years an' goold pieces. -An he were a right youth a'd pay his old feyther's debts an' -set the captive free; but not he, I warrant: he'll lay out all -the goold th' old wife gies un on wigs and furbelows. -And there be Squire Harry—young pa'son as was: who'd -a thowt, when his poor feyther went under ground, 'twas a -rightful squire Bill sexton had dug for, and the boy -a-droppen warm tears into his holler grave ought to ha' -been squire that minute in his place? Ay, I mind the -sermon as pa'son spoke out in church fust Sunday arter -news come o' Master Harry bein' true squire. I seed un -climb pulpit steps, and I know'd by the spread o' his -petticoats summat awful for poor sinners was a-comen, an' -I felt all leery down the small o' my back. 'God is the -judge,' says pa'son in his slow, tarrifyen way: 'he putteth -down one, and setteth up another.' That were the holy -text, out of Thy sarvant David's psa'ms, and daze me if -pa'son didn't scarify old Squire as if 'twas pa'son hisself -was choused out o' his rightful proputty. 'Twas a powerful -bit o' preachen; every 'ooman there was took wi' a longen -to let the water-drops tummle, but none on 'em durst begin -till Mis'ess Addle's mother set the key. Then 'twas a -little Noah's flood; you mind, souls?—such a fall o' tears -bean't seed in Winton Simmary since pa'son told us -Princess Henrietta were dead in France."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And be Squire Harry a-gwine to gi' up the trade o' -killen, and bide at home wi' poor peaceful folks like we -as never slays nowt but pigs and other beasts o' the -field?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, 'tis so. My boy do zay he med ha' been a knight -or lard at a word wi' Prince Eugene; but bless 'ee, he've -got his lands to look arter, and we poor folks besides, and -like his feyther afore un he have a true heart for home an' -friends. Why, he wouldn' gi' up the charge o' we poor -souls, not to be the Lord's anointed."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hark 'ee, Gaffer Minshull; bean't they the bells at last?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, 'tis so. Pa'son commanded a peal at zeven o'clock -by way o' holy consolation to bride an' bridegroom. Old -Everlasten ha' took his coat off; 'tis he do call the changes; -and i' feck, the bells 'll romp through a rare randy afore -he've done wi' 'em. Now, sonnies, what d'ye say to -wenden out-along an' callen choir and orchestry together? -Then we'll march up t' Hall, and sing 'em a lively ditty -as 'll cheer 'em up arter the Christian doens o' the day. -Sackbut, psalteery, an' all sarts o' music, says the Book; -we cannet muster they holy instruments, to be sure, but -wi' fiddle and bass-viol and serpent, and a little bit o' -tribble an' bass, we'll make a shift to raise a goodish randy -toon. What d'ye say, sonnies?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Be jowned if it bean't a fine notion for such a old aged -martal. Ay, let's out-along and make all the nise we can."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A thimbleful afore 'ee goos, souls. Mugs all, an' lift -up your hearts in a noble cheer for Squire an' Lady Squire, -wishen 'em long life an' a happy end. All together now; -spet it out o' your wynd-pipes; hurray! hurray! hurray!"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="visitors-at-winton-hall"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XXVII</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">Visitors at Winton Hall</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="small">Weather-bound—A Home Circle—Marlborough Unbends—Of -Princes—A Certain Harry Rochester</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>One January evening, in the year 1712, a little group was -gathered in the turret-room of Winton Hall. The wind -was roaring without; snow had been falling steadily all -day; but within all was warmth and peace. A big wood -fire blazed on the open hearth, lighting up with its ruddy -glare as charming a scene as any English country-house -could show. It was the children's hour; little Eustace -Berkeley, a sturdy boy of five, stood by his mother's knee -on one side of the hearth, and on the other, Mary, two -years younger, nestled in her father's arms.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Squire Berkeley looked up from his copy of the </span><em class="italics">Courant</em><span>.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The duke is dismissed from all his offices, Adèle."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What that mean, Faver?" said the boy instantly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The Queen has sent away the great man who fought -her battles so bravely; he will hang up his sword and -perhaps never use it again."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why did the naughty Queen send the great duke -away, Faver?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why naughty tween send dute away?" echoed Mary, -a golden-haired fairy, the image, as Mevrouw Grootz was -wont to declare, of Adèle at the same age.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Because the Queen does not like him as she used to -do. She likes somebody else better, and there are unkind -people who whisper in her ear stories about him that are -very likely not true. He is a great man, Eustace, and -there are always little men to say unkind things about -the great."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Are you a great man, Faver?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, my son; I am a plain English squire, that would -rather live here with you all than in any king's palace."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But your father might have been a great man," said -Mistress Berkeley. "A great prince——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nay, nay, my dear," interrupted the squire, "leave -that story till the children are older. It is bed-time now, -my chicks. Hark how the wind roars! Think of the little -birds out in the cold; they have no warm cosy cots like -yours. In the morning, remember, we are to make a -figure of the great duke in the snow.—But what is that?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The deep-toned house-bell had clanged in the hall below.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Tis late for a visitor, and in this snowstorm too!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He threw open the door, and stood waiting. In a few -moments a man appeared.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"An't please 'ee, sir, a coach be snowed up a hunnerd -yards or so beyond church, an' the travellers be come afoot -to axe if 'ee'll give 'em shelter."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Of course! I will come down. Tell Dick to take a -couple of horses and haul the coach out of the drift, and -ask Sherebiah to prepare some hot cordial."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He followed the man downstairs. Just within the doorway -stood two white figures muffled up to the ears in long -cloaks. They doffed their snow-laden hats as Harry -appeared, and the elder came forward.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I crave your pardon, sir," he said in smooth mellow -tones that revived old memories and quickened Harry's -pulse—"I crave your pardon for troubling you at such an -unseasonable hour, but my coach is blocked in a drift a -hundred yards or so beyond the church, and as my friend -Lord Godolphin is far from well, I have come to ask your -hospitality until we can free the coach and return to the -inn. I am the Duke of Marlborough."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Your grace is heartily welcome. But pray do me the -honour to accept beds for the night. The inn is near a -mile away, and you are cold and wet. Let me remove -your things. I have already sent a man to bring your -coach to my stables, and there is a good fire above."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I thank you. I cannot resist your invitation. To -whom are we indebted for our welcome?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Henry Berkeley, my lord; this is Winton Hall."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah! I remember the name. There was some little -romance, if I mistake not, about the inheritance a few -years since. Thank you, Mr. Berkeley! this is indeed -a haven of refuge to worn-out travellers."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Divested of their outer garments and provided with -slippers, the two noblemen preceded their host up the stairs. -At the door of the turret-room he advanced a few paces.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My dear, his grace the Duke of Marlborough and Lord -Godolphin. They are our guests to-night."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mistress Berkeley rose and made a sweeping curtsy, -blushing prettily, and throwing a half-startled, half-amused -glance at her husband. The children made round eyes of -wonder.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Madame, 'tis a charming welcome. We were driving -to my lord Pembroke's at Wilton Park, and were besnowed. -'Tis indeed a delightful transformation."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He patted the children's cheeks playfully. Lord Godolphin, -who was evidently ill, had already thrown himself -wearily into a chair.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, my little man, what is your name?" asked Marlborough -of the boy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Eustace Berkeley, sir."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A pretty name, egad. And what would you like to be -when you are a man, eh?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A soldier, and wear a red coat, and a sword, and fight -for the Queen."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A proper answer, indeed. Well, if you grow strong, and -do what your father and mother tell you, you may be a -soldier one day, and perhaps—who knows?—a great man."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I do not want to be a great man."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why not, my boy?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Faver says people are not kind to great men, and the -Queen likes somebody else better, and sends them away."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A little philosopher already, Mr. Berkeley," said my -lord, smiling at the child. "Well, well, my little fellow, -be a good man; not even the Queen could wish you better -than that."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Tis the children's bed hour, my lord," said Mistress -Berkeley. "I pray you excuse me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As mother and children left the room, Sherebiah, who -as butler at Winton Hall had settled down as a very -comfortable man of peace, entered with a tray on which were -silver tankards of mulled wine. The good fellow looked -not a day older than when he had led Katrinka to the -altar six years before. He placed the tray on a table and -silently withdrew. The guests sipped the grateful liquor -and sat in tired silence gazing into the fire.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Presently Mistress Berkeley returned.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Supper is served, my lords," she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A sweet word to famished men."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The duke offered her his arm and led the way to the -supper room, followed by Lord Godolphin and Harry. At -the table he kept up an animated conversation with his -hostess, yielding as all men did to the charm of a rarely -gracious personality. Lord Godolphin was as little -inclined to talk as to eat. When the cloth was removed, -and Sherebiah had placed bottles on the table and left the -gentlemen to themselves, Marlborough crossed his knees -and said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Egad, Mr. Berkeley, you are a lucky man, with such -a wife and such children. We could not have fared more -happily—eh, my lord?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nay indeed," replied Godolphin, thawing a little. -"We could never have reached Wilton to-night. The -wind, hark you, is gaining in fury—a sorry night for -travellers."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay; that poor wretch at Basingstoke is well quit of his -troubles. A sad case, Mr. Berkeley; but too common, I -fear. 'Twas a broken soldier; they had clapt him in the -stocks as a vagrant; never in my life saw I a more piteous -object. He was outside the inn, and hailed me as we -alighted to dine and change horses. Had fought at -Blenheim, he told me, captain in a Hanoverian regiment, -Aglionby by name, and lately returned from the Indies. -We had him released; but the poor fellow was even worse -than he seemed; for he died of a sudden before we left the -inn. He was on his way to this very village to see a -cousin, I bethink me he said. 'Tis thus we serve the men -who have fought our battles."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a note of bitterness in Marlborough's voice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Your pity, I fear, was ill-deserved, my lord," said the -Squire. "I know the man. He fought at Blenheim, -indeed, but on the other side, and for treasonable practices -was sent some six years ago on a long term to the -Plantations. He must have escaped."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Poor wretch! He had a miserable end. In spite of -what you tell me, Mr. Berkeley, I pity him. Such is the -fate of too many loyal soldiers also, the innocent victims -of war. You who live a quiet country life have certainly -chosen the better part. The prizes of court and camp are -in the end but Dead-Sea fruit. 'Put not your trust in -princes': 'tis the truest of warnings, as we old -stagers—eh, my lord?—have reason to know."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A cheerful fire, good fare, and a fine vintage of -much-travelled Madeira had completed the good impression -made by the host. The elder men began to talk freely, -with none of the constraint which the presence of a -younger man and a stranger might in other circumstances -have produced. Harry was amused to find that the -passage of years had altered him beyond recognition, and -wondered when a suitable opportunity would occur of -recalling himself to the recollection of his guests. All at -once Lord Godolphin said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Tis strange, Mr. Berkeley, that I am for the second -time detained in this village by an accident. My host on -that occasion was, I think, a Mr. Fanshawe. Is he still -living? It was ten years ago."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sir Godfrey Fanshawe is dead, my lord; his son now -owns the Grange."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It all comes back to me. We were travelling to -London—Frank and I, Jack—and our coach broke down -as we left a cricket match. Sir Godfrey Fanshawe was -good enough to give us beds for the night, and we had -gone but a few miles on the road next morning when we -were pulled up by a fallen tree, and in a trice were looking -down the muzzles of half-a-dozen horse pistols. I had -sent some of my young men ahead to arrange a change -of horses; the others bolted, and there we were in the -midst of the gang. 'Twas an uncommonly tight place; -Frank, always handy with his pistol, got in a shot, but -in another half-minute we should have been stripped or -worse when there came from the wall at our left a wild -hullabaloo worse than a dozen Thames bargemen touting -for a fare. The rascals turned tail and bolted; over the -wall sprang a man and a boy, and egad, I remember now -how I laughed when they told me they'd done the trick -betwixt 'em. 'Twas a rare flam. And the boy——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I think, my lord——" began Harry, feeling somewhat -uncomfortable; but Marlborough, setting his glass down -on the table, bent forward and interrupted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Egad, Godolphin, you bring things back to me. The -boy—we were always going to do something for him. He -found his way to the Low Countries, and showed himself -a lad of mettle. I came across him once or twice; noted -him—for the second time, by the way—for an ensigncy, -and found that he was already a cornet in a Dutch -regiment. He did well with Eugene, I believe. -Rochester—that was his name—Harry Rochester. I wonder what -became of him! Certainly he owed nothing to patronage—yours -or mine. Wasn't he the son of the parson here? -Mr. Berkeley, has he ever revisited these parts? 'Pon my -soul, I should like to meet him again."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I was about to explain, your grace, that—I am that -Harry Rochester."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">A Selection from the -Catalogue of</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">Complete Catalogues sent -<br />on application</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold x-large">The Light Brigade -<br />in Spain</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">or</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">The Last Fight of Sir John Moore</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">By Herbert Strang</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="small">Author of "Tom Burnaby," etc.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="medium">With a Preface by Lieut.-Col. WILLOUGHBY VERNER.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="medium">Illustrated by William Rainey, R.I. 12mo. $1.50</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"In 'Boys of the Light Brigade' Mr. Strang draws upon the -resources of the Peninsular War, and succeeds in extracting much -freshness from well-worn themes, as Moore's retreat to Corunna and -the heroic defence of Saragossa. The personal interest of the story -is kept at a high tension.... It is a book which no boy will -be able to put down when once started. The volume is provided -with excellent maps and plans of the scenes in which the incidents -take place."—</span><em class="italics">The Standard</em><span>.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"This author has fairly earned the right to be accepted as the -legitimate successor of the late George A. Henty in furnishing -entertainment for youth. Like Henty, Strang manages to galvanize -the dry bones of history into a close semblance of glorious life.... -The present volume contains vivid and spirited descriptions -of campaign life in Spain ... with many rare and interesting -episodes.... This is good reading for young and old."—</span><em class="italics">Chicago -Post</em><span>.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The author describes graphically with truth to history the last -fight of the British commander, Sir John Moore. It is a stirring -military story in the manner of those written by the late George -A. Henty, but really with more authenticity."—</span><em class="italics">Philadelphia Press</em><span>.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"An interesting story, with extra good measure in its incidents -and character ... and with some pretty little love -passages."—</span><em class="italics">Cleveland Leader</em><span>.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><em class="italics medium">BY THE SUCCESSOR TO HENTY</em></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold x-large">KOBO</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">A Story of the Russo-Japanese War</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">By HERBERT STRANG</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="medium">Author of "The Light Brigade in Spain," etc.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><em class="italics medium">Illustrated by William Rainey, R.I. 12mo, $1.50</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"It is a dashing romance for boys, founded on the Russo-Japanese -War and worthy of the late Mr. Henty at his best. A -story that every schoolboy will enjoy and one that will be read -with much pleasure and profit by many older readers as -well."—</span><em class="italics">Cleveland Leader</em><span>.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The story throughout bristles with adventures, it is well -written and the author shows intimate knowledge of Japanese -character and customs."—</span><em class="italics">San Francisco Bulletin</em><span>.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In one respect Mr. Strang's tale is even better than many -of the late G. A. Henty's. It has more dash and dialogue. -These are strong points in the work of this writer, who is -destined to fill the place vacated by the lamented author of -'Under Drake's Flag,' and 'With Clive in India.'"—</span><em class="italics">The -Dundee Advertiser</em><span>.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"For vibrant actuality there is nothing to come up to -Mr. Strang's 'Kobo.'"—</span><em class="italics">The Academy</em><span>.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A great amount of actual military history is incorporated -with an exciting and romantic plot."—</span><em class="italics">The Westminster -Gazette</em><span>.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">By ELBRIDGE S. BROOKS</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>Historic Boys. Their Endeavors, Their Achievements and -Their Times. With 29 full-page illustrations. -8vo, pp. viii + 259.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>Historic Girls. Stories of Girls Who Have Influenced the -History of Their Times. 8vo, illustrated, pp. viii + 225.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>Chivalric Days and Youthful Deeds. Stirring Stories, -presenting faithful pictures of historic times. Illustrated, -8vo. $1.25</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>Heroic Happenings. Told in Verse and Story. -Illustrated, 8vo. $1.25</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>Great Men's Sons. Stories of the Sons of Great Men from -Socrates to Napoleon. Fully illustrated, 8vo. $1.25</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>Including the Sons of Socrates, Alexander, Cicero, Marcus -Aurelius, Mahomet, Charlemagne, Alfred, William the -Conqueror, Saladin, Dante, Tamerlane, Columbus, Luther, -Shakespeare, Cromwell, Peter the Great, Napoleon.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>The Long Walls. An American Boy's Adventures in Greece. -A Story of Digging and Discovery, Temples and Treasures. -By E. S. Brooks and John Alden. Illustrated by George -Foster Barnes. 8vo. $1.25</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">FOR YOUNG PEOPLE</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">ROYAL ROGUES</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>By ALBERTA BANCROFT. With Illustrations by Louis -Betts. 12mo. $1.25</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There are few healthy-minded folk, whatever their -time of life, who will not confess to a fondness for fairy -tales of the right sort. "Royal Rogues" has that -quality which makes a children's book win the hearts of -grown-ups. The heroes are merry twin rogues, king's -sons of course, but with a strain of fairy blood in their -veins. Wildly strange and delightful are their -explorations in the realms of fairyland.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A charming story ... must be accounted -one of the prettiest and cleverest of modern fairy -stories."—</span><em class="italics">Worcester Spy</em><span>.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">ON BOARD A WHALER</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>An Adventurous Cruise through Southern Seas. By -THOMAS WEST HAMMOND. With 16 full-page -illustrations by HARRY GEORGE BURGESS. 12mo. $1.25</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thrilling throughout.... In the name of -American youth, we thank Mr. Hammond for -resuscitating a memory that had slumbered so -long."—</span><em class="italics">Com. Advertiser</em><span>.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The yarn he spins of that and other trips in search -of oil is one of the best I ever read. It is indeed a -thrilling, exciting, dangerous story of the sea, a tale of -personal experience put into book form by as brave a -sailor as ever chased whales, and it is full of that local -color which makes a fellow's blood tingle as he turns -the pages. The illustrations are excellent."—HENRY -HAYNIE in </span><em class="italics">The Boston Times</em><span>.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS -<br />NEW YORK LONDON</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">By HERBERT STRANG</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>The Adventures of Harry Rochester: A -Tale of the Days of Marlborough and Eugene.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>The Light Brigade in Spain; or, The Last -Fight of Sir John Moore.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>Kobo. A Story of the Russo-Japanese War.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 6em"> -</div> -<!-- -*- encoding: utf-8 -*- --> -<div class="backmatter"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst" id="pg-end-line"><span>*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK </span><span>THE ADVENTURES OF HARRY ROCHESTER</span><span> ***</span></p> -<div class="cleardoublepage"> -</div> -<div class="language-en level-2 pgfooter section" id="a-word-from-project-gutenberg" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> -<span id="pg-footer"></span><h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><span>A Word from Project Gutenberg</span></h2> -<p class="pfirst"><span>We will update this book if we find any errors.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This book can be found under: </span><a class="reference external" href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44362"><span>http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44362</span></a></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no one -owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and -you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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