CHAPTER IX.
Did you ever examine an ant-hill, dear reader? What a wonderful littlecosmos it is--what an epitome of a great city--of the human race! Seehow the little fellows run bustling along upon their severalbusinesses--see how some get out of each other's way, how othersjostle, and others walk over their fellows' heads! But especially markthat black gentleman, pulling hard to drag along a fat beetle's legand thigh, three times as large as his own body. He cannot get it on,do what he will; and yet he tugs away, thinking it a very fine haunchindeed. He does not perceive, what is nevertheless the fact, thatthere are two others of his own race pulling at the other end, andthus frustrating all his efforts.
And thus it is with you, and me, and every one in the wide world. Wework blindly, unknowing the favoring or counteracting causes that areconstantly going on around us, to facilitate or impede our endeavors.The wish to look into futurity is vain, irrational, almost impious;but what a service would it be to any man if he could but get a sightinto Fate's great workshop, and see only that part in which the eventsare on the anvil that affect our own proceedings. Still, even if wedid, we might not understand the machinery after all, and only burn orpinch our fingers in trying to put pieces together which fate did notintend to fit.
In the mean time--that is to say while the attorney and his companionwere talking together at the alehouse--Sir Philip Hastings rodequietly up the hill to the cottage I have before described, andtherefore shall not describe again, merely noticing that it nowpresented an appearance of neatness and repair which it had not beforepossessed. He tied his horse to the palings, walked slowly up thelittle path, gazing right and left at the cabbages and carrots oneither side, and then without ceremony went in.
The cottage had two tenants at this time, the invalid old woman, andanother, well-nigh as old but less decrepit, who had been engaged toattend upon her in her sickness. How she got the money to pay her noone knew, for her middle life and the first stage of old age had beenmarked by poverty and distress; but somehow money seems to have anatural affinity for old age. It grows upon old people, I think, likecorns; and certainly she never wanted money now.
There she was, lying in her bed, a miserable object indeed to see. Shewas like a woman made of fungus--not of that smooth, putty-like,fleshy fungus which grows in dank places, but of the rough, rugged,brown, carunculated sort which rises upon old stumps of trees anddry-rot gate-posts. Teeth had departed nearly a quarter of a centurybefore, and the aquiline features had become more hooked and beaky fortheir loss; but the eyes had now lost their keen fire, and were dulland filmy.
The attorney was quite right. Hate was the last thing to go out in theashes where the spark of life itself lingered, but faintly. At firstshe could not see who it was entered the cottage; for the sight nowreached but a short distance from her own face. But the sound of hisvoice, as he inquired of the other old woman how she was going on, atonce showed her who it was, and hate at least roused "the dull coldear of death."
For a moment or two she lay muttering sounds which seemed to have nomeaning; but at length she said, distinctly enough, "Is that PhilipHastings?"
"Yes, my poor woman," said the baronet; "is there any thing I can dofor you?"
"Come nearer, come nearer," she replied, "I cannot see you plainly."
"I am close to you, nevertheless," he answered. "I am touching the bedon which you lie."
"Let me feel you," continued she--"give me your hand."
He did as she asked him; and holding by his hand, she made a greatstruggle to raise herself in bed; but she could not, and lay exhaustedfor a minute before she spoke again.
At length, however, she raised her voice louder and shriller thanbefore--"May a curse rest upon this hand and upon that head!" sheexclaimed; "may the hand work its own evil, and the head its owndestruction! May the child of your love poison your peace, and makeyou a scoff, and a by-word, and a shame! May the wife of your bosomperish by----"
But Sir Philip Hastings withdrew his hand suddenly, and an unwontedflush came upon his cheek.
"For shame!" he said, in a low stern tone, "for shame!"
The next moment, however, he recovered himself perfectly; and turningto the nurse he added, "Poor wretch! my presence only seems to exciteevil feelings which should long have passed away, and are not fitcounsellors for the hour of death. If there be any thing which cantend to her bodily comfort that the hall can supply, send up for it.The servants have orders. Would that any thing could be done for herspiritual comfort; for this state is terrible to witness."
"She often asks for a priest, your worship," said the nurse. "Perhapsif she could see one she might think better before she died."
"Alas, I doubt it," replied the visitor; "but at all events we cannotafford her that relief. No such person can be found here."
"I don't know, Sir Philip," said the old woman, with a good deal ofhesitation; "they do say that at Carrington, there is--there is whatthey call a seminary."
"You do not mean a papist college!" exclaimed the baronet, withunfeigned surprise and consternation.
"Oh, dear, no sir," replied the nurse, "only a gentleman--aseminary--a seminary priest, I think they call it; a papist certainly;but they say he is a very good gentleman, all but that."
Sir Philip mused for a minute or two, and then turned to the door,saying, "Methinks it is hard that a dying woman cannot have theconsolations of the rites of her own faith--mummery though they be. Asa magistrate, my good woman, I can give no authority in this business.You must do as you think fit. I myself know of no priest in thisneighborhood, or I should be bound to cause his apprehension. I shalltake no notice of your word, however, and as to the rest, you must, asI have said, act as you think fit. I did not make the laws, and I maythink them cruel. Did I make them, I would not attempt to shackle theconscience of any one. Farewell," and passing through the door, heremounted his horse and rode away.
It was in the early autumn time of the year, and the scene waspeculiarly lovely. I have given a slight description of it before, butI must pause and dwell upon it once more, even as Sir Philip Hastingspaused and dwelt upon its loveliness at that moment, although he hadseen and watched it a thousand times before. He was not veryimpressible by fine scenery. Like the sages of Laputa, his eyes weremore frequently turned inwards than outwards; but there was somethingin that landscape which struck a chord in his heart, that is sure tovibrate easily in the heart of every one of his countrymen.
It was peculiarly English--I might say singularly English; for I havenever seen any thing of exactly the same character anywhere else butin Old England--except indeed in New England, where I know not whetherit be from the country having assimilated itself to the people, orfrom the people having chosen the country from the resemblance totheir own paternal dwelling place, many a scene strikes the eye whichbrings back to the wandering Englishman all the old, dear feelings ofhis native land, and for a moment he may well forget that the broadAtlantic rolls between him and and the home of his youth.
But let me return to my picture. Sir Philip Hastings sat upon hishorse's back, very nearly at the summit of the long range of hillswhich bisected the county in which he dwelt. I have described, inmentioning his park, the sandy character of the soil on the oppositeslope of the rise; but here higher up, and little trodden bypulverizing feet, the sandstone rock itself occasionally broke out inrugged maps, diversifying the softer characteristics of the scene.Wide, and far away, on either hand, the eye could wander along therange, catching first upon some bold mass of hill, or craggy piece ofground, assuming almost the character of a cliff, seen in hard andsharp distinctness, with its plume of trees and coronet of yellowgorse, and then, proceeding onward to wave after wave, the sightrested upon the various projecting points, each softer and softer asthey receded, like the memories of early days, till the last lines ofthe wide sweep left the mind doubtful whether they were forms of earthor clouds, or merely fancy.
Such was the scene on either hand, but straightforward it was verydi
fferent, but still quite English. Were you ever, reader, borne tothe top of a very high wave in a small boat, and did you ever, lookingdown the watery mountain, mark how the steep descent, into the depthbelow, was checkered by smaller waves, and these waves again byripples? Such was the character of the view beneath the feet of thespectator. There was a gradual, easy descent from the highest point ofthe whole county down to a river-nurtured valley, not unbroken, butwith lesser and lesser waves of earth, varying the aspect of thescene. These waves again were marked out, first by scattered andsomewhat stunted trees, then by large oaks and chestnuts, notundiversified by the white and gleaming bark of the graceful birch. Amassive group of birches here and there was seen; a scattered cottage,too, with its pale bluish wreath of smoke curling up over thetree-tops. Then, on the lower slope of all, came hedgerows of elms,with bright green rolls of verdant turf between; the spires ofchurches; the roofs and white walls of many sorts of man'sdwelling-places, and gleams of a bright river, with two or threearches of a bridge. Beyond that again appeared a rich wide valley--Imight almost have called it a plain, all in gay confusion, withfields, and houses, and villages, and trees, and streams, and towns,mixed altogether in exquisite disorder, and tinted with all thevariety of colors and shades that belong to autumn and to sunset.
Down the descent, the eye of Sir Philip Hastings could trace severalroads and paths, every step of which he knew, like daily habits. Therewas one, a bridle-way from a town about sixteen miles distant, which,climbing the hills almost at its outset, swept along the whole range,about midway between the summit and the valley. Another, by which hehad come, and along which he intended to proceed, traversed the crestof the hills ere it reached the cottage, and then descended with awavy line into the valley, crossing the bridle-path I have mentioned.A wider path--indeed it might be called a road, though it was not aturnpike--came over the hills from the left, and with all those easygraceful turns which Englishmen so much love in their highways, andFrenchmen so greatly abhor, descended likewise into the valley, to thesmall market-town, glimpses of which might be caught over the tops ofthe trees. As the baronet sat there on horseback, and looked around,more than one living object met his eye. To say nothing of some sheepwandering along the uninclosed part of the hill, now stopping tonibble the short grass, now trotting forward for a sweeter bite,--notto notice the oxen in the pastures below, there was a large cartslowly winding its way along an open part of the road, about half amile distant, and upon the bridle-path which I have mentioned, thefigure of a single horseman was seen, riding quietly and easily along,with a sauntering sort of air, which gave the beholder at once thenotion that he was what Sterne would have called a "picturesquetraveller," and was enjoying the prospect as he went.
On the road that came over the hill from the left, was another riderof very different demeanor, going along at a rattling pace, andapparently somewhat careless of his horse's knees.
The glance which Sir Philip Hastings gave to either of them was butslight and hasty. His eyes were fixed upon the scene before him,feeling, rather than understanding, its beauties, while he commentedIn his mind, after his own peculiar fashion. I need not trace theprocession of thought through his brain. It ended, however, with thehalf uttered words,
"Strange, that such a land should have produced so many scoundrels,tyrants, and knaves!"
He then slowly urged his horse forward, down the side of the hill,soon reached some tall trees, where the inclosures and hedgerowscommenced, and was approaching the point at which the road he wastravelling, crossed the bridle-path, when he heard some loud, and asit seemed to him, angry words, passing between two persons he couldnot see.
"I will soon teach you that;" cried a loud, coarse tongue, adding anexceedingly blasphemous oath, which I will spare the reader.
"My good friend," replied another milder voice, "I neither desire tobe taught any thing, just now, nor would you be the teacher I shouldchose, if I did, though perchance, in case of need, I might give you alesson, which would be of some service to you."
Sir Philip rode on, and the next words he heard were spoken by thefirst voice, to the following effect; "Curse me, if I would not trythat, only my man might get off in the mean time; and I have otherbusiness in hand than yours. Otherwise I would give you such a lickingin two minutes, you would be puzzled to find a white spot on your skinfor the neat month."
"Two minutes would not detain you long," replied the calmer voice,"and, as I have never had such a beating, I should like to see, first,whether you could give it, and secondly, what it would be like."
"Upon my soul, you are cool!" exclaimed the first speaker with anotheroath.
"Perfectly," replied the second; and, at the same moment, Sir PhilipHastings emerged from among the trees, at the point where the tworoads crossed, and where the two speakers were face to face before hiseyes.
The one, who was in truth the sauntering traveller whom he has seenwending along the bridle-path, was a tall, good-looking young man, ofthree or four and twenty years of age. In the other, the Baronet hadno difficulty in recognizing at once, Tom Cutter, the notoriouspoacher and bruiser, whom he had more than once had the satisfactionof committing to jail. To see him mounted on a very fine powerfulhorse, was a matter of no slight surprise to Sir Philip; but,naturally concluding that he had stolen it, and was making off withhis prize for sale to the neighboring town, he rode forward and puthimself right in the way, determined to stop him.
"Ay, ay! Here is my man!" cried Tom Cutter, as soon as he saw him. "Iwill settle with him first, and then for you, my friend."
"No, no, to an old proverb, first come must be first served," repliedthe traveller, pushing his horse forward a few steps.
"Keep the peace, in the King's name!" exclaimed Sir Philip Hastings."I, as a magistrate, charge you, sir, to assist me in apprehendingthis man!--Thomas Cutter, get off that horse!"
The only reply was a coarse and violent expletive, and a blow with athick heavy stick, aimed right at Sir Philip's head. The magistrateput up his arm, which received the blow, and was nearly fractured byit; but at the same moment, the younger traveller spurred forward hishorse upon the ruffian, and with one sweep of his arm struck him tothe ground.
Tom Cutter was upon, his feet again in a moment. He was accustomed tohard blows, and like the immortal hero of Butler, could almost tellthe quality of the stick he was beat withal. He was not long indiscovering, therefore, that the fist which struck him was of noordinary weight, and was directed with skill as well as with vigor;but he was accustomed to make it his boast, that he had never taken alicking "from any man," which vanity caused him at once to risk suchanother blow, in the hope of having his revenge.
Rushing upon the young stranger then, stick in hand, he prepared toknock him from his horse; for the other appeared to have no defensivearms, but a slight hazel twig, pulled from a hedge.
"He will jump off the other side of his horse," thought Tom Cutter;"and then, if he do, I'll contrive to knock the nag over upon him. Iknow that trick, well enough."
But the stranger disappointed him. Instead of opposing the horsebetween him and his assailant, he sprung with one bound out of thesaddle, on the side next to the ruffian himself, caught the upliftedstick with one hand, and seized the collar of the bruiser's coat withthe other.
Tom Cutter began to suspect he had made a mistake; but, knowing thatat such close quarters the stick would avail him little, and thatstrength of thews and sinews would avail him much, he dropped thecudgel, and grappled with the stranger in return.
It was all the work of a moment. Sir Philip Hastings had no time tointerfere. There was a momentary struggle, developing the fineproportions and great strength and skill of the wrestlers; and then,Tom Cutter lay on his back upon the ground. The next instant, thevictor put his foot upon his chest, and kept the ruffian forciblydown, notwithstanding all his exclamations of "Curse me, that isn'tfair! When you give a man a fall, let him get up again!"
"If he is a fair fighter, I do," replied the other;
"but when he playspirate, I don't--" Then turning to Sir Philip Hastings, who had bythis time dismounted, he said, "What is to be done with this fellow,sir? It seems he came here for the express purpose of assaulting you,for he began his impertinence, with asking if you had passed, giving avery accurate description of your person, and swearing you should findevery dog would have his day."
"His offence towards myself," replied the Baronet, "I will pass over,for it seems to me, he has been punished enough in his own way; but Isuspect he has stolen this horse. He is a man of notoriously badcharacter, who can never have obtained such an animal by honestmeans."
"No, I didn't steal him, I vow and swear," cried the ruffian, in apiteous tone; for bullies are almost always cravens; "he was lent tome by Johny Groves--some call him another name; but that don'tsignify.--He lent him to me, to come up here, to stop your gab withthe old woman, Mother Danty; and mayhap to give you a good bastinginto the bargain. But I didn't steal the horse no how; and there heis, running away over the hill-side, and I shall never catch him; forthis cursed fellow has well nigh broken my back."
"Served you quite right, my friend," replied the stranger, stillkeeping him tightly down with his foot. "How came you to use a cudgelto a man who had none? Take my advice, another time, and know your manbefore you meddle with him."
In the mean time Sir Philip Hastings had fallen into a profoundreverie, only repeating to himself the words "John Groves." Now thetrain of thought which was awakened in his mind, though not quite new,was unpleasant to him; for the time when he first became familiar withthat name was immediately subsequent to the opening of his father'swill, in which had been found a clause ordering the payment of aconsiderable sum of money to some very respectable trustees, for thepurpose of purchasing an annuity in favor of one John Groves, then aminor.
There had been something about the clause altogether which the son andheir of Sir John Hastings could not understand, and did not like.However, the will enjoined him generally to make no inquiry whatsoeverinto the motives of any of the bequests, and with his usual sternrigidity in what he conceived right, he had not only asked noquestions, but had stopped bluntly one of the trustees, who was aboutto enter into some explanations. The money was paid according todirections received, and he had never heard the name of John Grovesfrom that moment till it issued from the lips of the ruffian upon thepresent occasion.
"What the man says may be true," said Sir Philip Hastings, at length;"there is a person of the name he mentions. I know not how I can haveoffended him. It may be as well to let him rise and catch his horse ifhe can; but remember, Master Cutter, my eye is upon you; two competentwitnesses have seen you in possession of that horse, and if youattempt to sell him, you will hang for it."
"I know better than to do that," said the bruiser, rising stiffly fromthe ground as the stranger withdrew his foot; "but I can tell you, SirPhilip, others have their eyes upon you, so you had better look toyourself. You hold your head mightily top high, just now: but it maychance to come down."
Sir Philip Hastings did not condescend to reply, even by a look; butturning to the stranger, as if the man's words had never reached hisear, he said, "I think we had better ride on, sir. You seem to begoing my way. Night is falling fast, and in this part of the countrytwo is sometimes a safer number to travel with than one."
The other bowed his head gravely, and remounting their horses theyproceeded on the way before them, while Tom Cutter, after giving upsome five minutes to the condemnation of the eyes, limbs, blood, andsoul of himself and several other persons, proceeded to catch thehorse which he had been riding as fast as he could. But the taskproved a difficult one.
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