CHAPTER XX.
HOW WILL WOULD NOT BE CROSSED.
I know not what Will proposed to himself when his father at firstadmonished him; perhaps, one knows not, he even tried to set beforehimself the reasonableness of his father's rebuke; perhaps, as thesequel seems to show, he kept silence, resolving to have his own waysomehow.
However that might be, Will ceased to molest me for the time, and I waseven in hopes that he had seen the hopelessness of his desires. Ourdays went on without any other visits from him, and he did not seek meout upon the Terrace or in the Assembly Rooms.
Poor Nancy's predictions were, however, entirely fulfilled. For Willcould not, by any persuasion of hers, be induced at first to abstainfrom showing himself in public. To be sure, he did not "run an Indianmuck" among the dancers, but he became the terror of the whole companyfor a rough boorishness which was certainly unknown before in anypolite assembly. He did not try to be even decently polite: he wasboorish, not like a boor, but like a Czar of Russia, with a proud senseof his own position; he behaved as if he were, at Epsom Wells, theyoung squire among the villagers who looked up to him as their heroand natural king. If he walked upon the Terrace he pushed and elbowedthe men, he jolted the ladies, he stepped upon trains, pushed asidedangling canes and deranged wigs, as if nobody was to be consideredwhen he was present. Sometimes he went into the card-room and took ahand; then, if he was tempted to give his antagonist the lie direct, hegave it; or if he lost, he said rude things about honesty; and he wasso strong, and carried so big a cudgel, that for a time nobody daredto check him. Because, you see, by Nash's orders, the gentlemen woreno swords. Now, although it is possible to challenge a man and runhim through, what are you to do with one who perhaps would refuse achallenge, yet would, on provocation, being horribly strong, cudgel hisadversary on the spot? Of course, this kind of thing could not last; itwent on just as long as the forbearance of the gentlemen allowed, andthen was brought to an end. As for Will, during the first few days hehad not the least consideration for any one; all was to give way to hiscaprice.
I have already remarked upon the very singular love which young menof all ranks seem to have for chucking under the chin young women ofthe lower classes. It was very well known at Epsom Wells that manygentlemen rose early in the morning in order to enjoy this pastimeupon the chins of the higglers who brought the fruit, eggs, fowls,and vegetables from the farmhouses. From six to nine chin-chucking,not actually upon the Parade and the Terrace, but close by, among thetrees, on the steps of houses, beside the pond, was an amusement infull flow. Many of the higglers were comely red-cheeked damsels whothought it fine thus to be noticed by the quality, and I suppose noharm came of it all, save a little pampering of the conceit and vanityof young girls, so that they might dream of gentlemen instead ofyeomen, and aspire beyond their rank instead of remembering the wordsof the Catechism to "learn and labour to do their duty in their ownstation of life." To attract the attention of a dozen young fellows:to have them following one about, even though one carried a basketfull of eggs for sale: to listen to their compliments: to endure thatchin-chucking--I suppose these things were to the taste of the girls,because, as Cicely told me, there was great competition among them whoshould carry the basket to the Wells. Now Master Will was quite athome, from his village experiences, with this pastime, and speedilyfell in with it, to the annoyance and discomfiture of the London beauxand fribbles. For, still acting upon the principles that Epsom was hisown parish, the village where he was Sultan, Great Bashaw, Heyduc, orGrand Seigneur, he at once took upon himself the right of paying theseattentions to any or all of the damsels, without reference to previouspreferences. This, which exasperated the fair higglers, drove the beauxnearly mad. Yet, because he was so strong and his cudgel was so thick,none durst interfere.
I have since thought, in reflecting over poor Will's history, thatthere are very few positions in life more dangerous to a young manthan that of the only son of a country squire, to have no tastes forlearning and polite society, and to live constantly on the estate. Foramong the rough farmers and labourers there can be no opposition orpublic feeling upon the conduct, however foolish and ungoverned, ofsuch a young man; the rustics and clowns are his very humble servants,nay, almost his slaves; they tremble at his frown; if he lifts hisstick they expect a cudgelling; as for the women and girls of thevillage, the poor things are simply honoured by a nod and a word; theestate will be his, the fields will be his, the cottages his; thehares, rabbits, partridges, pheasants will be his; even the very menand women will be his, nay, are his already. Wherever he goes he issaluted; even in the church, the people rise to do him reverence: hatsare doffed and reverence paid if he walks the fields, or rides uponthe roads; every day, supposing he is so unhappy as to remain alwaysupon his own estate, he is made to feel his greatness until he comes tobelieve, like King Louis XV. himself, that there is no one in the worldbut must bow to his order, nothing that he desires but he must have.And, speaking with the respect due to my benefactors, I think that SirRobert, a man himself of singular good feeling and high breeding, wasgreatly to blame in not sending his son to travel, or in some way tomake him mix with his equals and superiors. For such a character asWill's is formed insensibly. A man does not become selfish and boorishall at once. Therefore, his parents did not notice, until it was forcedupon them, what all the world deplored--the self-will and boorishnessof their only son. To the last I think that Lady Levett looked upon himas a young man of excellent heart, though stubborn.
"You _shall_ marry me," he had said. Therefore it was war to the death,because, as you all know, I could not possibly marry him.
It was no secret at Epsom that this young autocrat had said thosewords; in fact, he used them in public, insulting Harry Temple upon thevery Terrace before all the company.
"I warn you," he said, "keep away from Kitty. She's going to be mywife. I've told her so. Therefore, hands off."
"Why, Will," Harry replied good-naturedly, "what if she refuses?"
"She shan't refuse. I've said she shall marry me, and she shall," hereplied. "Refuse? It's only her whimsical tricks. All fillies arealike. Hands off, Master Harry."
"Why," cried Peggy Baker, "what a pretty, genteel speech, to be sure!Oh, Mr. Levett, happy is the woman who will be your wife! Such kindnessof disposition! such sweetness! such gallantry! such sensibility!"
"I know what you mean," said Will, swearing a big oath; "and I don'tvalue your words nor your opinion--no--not a brass farden, no morethan I value your powder, and your paint, and your patches. You're allalike; blacksmith's Sue is worth a hundred of ye."
Peggy burst out laughing, and Will strode away. He did not like to belaughed at, yet could not help being intolerably rude.
When I found that Will, although he made himself thelaughing-stock--and the terror--of the place, ceased to molest me, Iwas more easy in my mind; certainly, it would not have been pleasant towalk on the Terrace, or even to go to the Assembly, if one had fearedto meet this rough and bearish inamorato, who might have insulted one,or a gentleman with one, in the most intolerable manner. However, theevening was generally a safe time, because then he loved to sit in atavern playing all-fours over a pipe and a tankard with any countryparson, or even any town tradesman, who would share his beer and becomplaisant with his moods.
This was worse than the case of Harry Temple, because, as I have saidbefore, I could not hope, whatever I did, to bring him to reason.Sometimes I thought, but wildly, of Dr. Powlett's establishment.Suppose that the whole force of the house had succeeded in puttinghim into chains and a strait-waistcoat, which was certainlydoubtful--besides, so wicked a thing could not be done twice--whatassurance had I of good behaviour on release? He would promise--Willwas always ready to promise, having no more regard to truth than anourang-outang; but when he was free, with his cudgel in his hand, whatwould he not do?
I have said that he was prodigiously strong, besides being fierce andmasterful of aspect. This made men give way to him; also he got arepu
tation for being stronger than perhaps he really was. For when,as continually happened, booths were put on the Downs for wrestling,singlestick, quarterstaff, boxing, and other trials of skill andstrength, Will would always go, sit out the whole games, and thenchallenge the victor, whom he always conquered, coming off the hero ofthe day. To be sure, it was whispered that the contest was generallyarranged--by promise of half-a-crown--to be decided in favour of Will.It seems strange, but I suppose there are men who, for half-a-crown,will not only sell a fight--on which bets have been made--but also takea sound drubbing as well.
And if he had a dispute with a gentleman--it was impossible for himto exchange two words without causing a dispute--he would immediatelypropose to settle the affair with cudgels or fists. Now a gentlemanshould be ready to fight a street bully or a light porter in Londonwith any weapons, if necessary; but what sort of society would thatbe in which the gentlemen would take off coat and wig and engage withfists or clubs on the smallest quarrel?
He was so rude and overbearing that the company began to be positivelyafraid of going to the Terrace or the Assembly Rooms, and indeed Ithink he would have driven the whole of the visitors away in a body butfor the timely interference of Lord Chudleigh and Sir Miles Lackington.It was the day after his open insult to Harry Temple, who could notcall out the son of his former guardian and his old playfellow.Therefore these two resolved that there should be an end of thisbehaviour.
It was bruited abroad that some steps of a serious nature were goingto be taken; there had been found a man, it was said, to bell the cat;it was even whispered that a prize-fighter of stupendous strength,dexterity, and resolution had been brought down expressly from Londonin order to insult Will Levett, receive a challenge for singlestick,or fists, or quarterstaff, instantly accept it, and thereupon give thevillage bantam-cock so mighty a drubbing that he would not dare againto show his face among the company. Indeed, I think that was the bestthing which could have been done, and I sincerely wish they had doneit.
But Lord Chudleigh and Sir Miles would not treat a gentleman,even so great a cub and clown, with other than the treatment dueto a gentleman. Therefore, they resolved upon an open and publicexpostulation and admonition. And, mindful of the big cudgel, theybroke the laws of the Wells, and put on their swords before they cametogether on the Terrace, looking grave and stern, as becomes thosewho have duties of a disagreeable kind to perform. But to see theexcitement of the company. They expected, I believe, nothing short of abattle between Lord Chudleigh and Sir Miles on the one hand, armed withswords, and Will on the other, grasping his trusty cudgel. The cudgel,in his hands, against any two combatants, would have been a mightyawkward weapon, but, fortunately, gentlemen of Will's kind entertain ahealthy repugnance to cold steel.
It was about twelve o'clock in the forenoon when Will the Masterful,forcing his way, shoulders first, among the crowd, found himselfbrought up short by these two gentlemen. Round them were gathered acircle of bystanders, which increased rapidly till it was twenty orthirty deep.
"Now then," he cried, "what is the meaning of this? Let's pass, willye, lord or no lord?"
As Lord Chudleigh made no reply, Will, growling that a freebornEnglishman was as good as a lord or a baronet in the public way, triedto pass through them. Then he was seized by the coat-collar by SirMiles, whose arm was as strong as his own.
"Hark ye," said the baronet. "We want a few words with you, young cub!"
Will lifted his head in amazement. Here was a man quite as strong ashimself who dared to address him as a cub.
"We find that you go about the Wells," continued the baronet, "which isa place of entertainment for ladies and gentlemen, insulting, pushing,and behaving with no more courtesy than if you were in your ownstableyard. Now, sirrah, were it not for the respect we have for yourfather, we should make short work of you."
"Make short work of ME!" cried Will, red in the face, and brandishinghis cudgel. "Make short work of ME!"
"Certainly. Do not think we shall fight you with sticks; and if youmake the least gesture with that club of yours, I shall have thepleasure of running you through with my sword." Contrary to the rulesof the Wells, both gentlemen, as I have said, wore their swords on thisoccasion, and here Sir Miles touched his sword-hilt. "And now, sir,take a word of advice. Try to behave like a gentleman, or, upon my wordof honour, you shall be driven out of the Wells with a horsewhip by thehands of the common grooms of the place, your proper companions."
Will swore prodigiously, but he refrained from using his cudgel.Indeed, the prospect of cold steel mightily cooled his courage.
"And a word from me, sir," said Lord Chudleigh, speaking low. "You havedared to make public use of a certain young lady's name. I assure you,upon the honour of a peer, that if you presume to repeat this offence,or if you in any way assert a claim to that lady's favour, I will makeyou meet me as one gentleman should meet another."
Will looked from one to the other. Both men showed that they meant whatthey promised. Sir Miles, with a careless smile, had in his eye a lookof determination. Lord Chudleigh, with grave face and set lip, seemeda man quite certain to carry out his promise. Will had nothing to say;he was like one dumbfounded: therefore he swore. This is the commonrefuge of many men for all kinds of difficulties, doubts, and dangers.Some rogues go swearing to the gallows. Men call them insensible andcallous, whereas I believe that these wretches are simply incapableof expressing emotion in any other way. Swearing, with them, standsfor every emotion. The divine gift of speech, by which it was designedthat men should express their thoughts, and so continually lead upwardstheir fellow-creatures, become in their case a vehicle for profaneejaculation, so that they are little better than the monkeys on thebranches.
Will, therefore, swore vehemently. This made no impression upon hisassailants. He therefore swore again. He then asked what sort oftreatment this was for a gentleman to receive. Sir Miles reminded himthat he had offended against the good manners expected of gentlemenat a watering-place, and that he could no longer fairly be treated asbelonging to the polite class.
"Indeed," he explained, "we have gravely considered the matter, mylord and myself, and have come to the conclusion that although, forthe sake of your most worthy father, we were ready to admonish asa gentleman (though in this open and public manner, as the offencerequired), yet we cannot consider your case to be deserving of anybetter treatment than that of a common, unruly porter, carter, orlabouring man, who must be brought to his senses by reason of blows,cuffs, and kicks. Know, then, that although this Terrace is open to allwho comport themselves with civility, decency, and consideration forothers, it is no place for brawlers, strikers, and disturbers of thepeace. Wherefore, four stout men, or if that is not enough, six, willbe told off to drive you from the Terrace whenever you appear againupon it armed with that great stick, or upon the least offer to fightany gentleman of the company. I believe, sir, that you are no fool, andthat you perfectly understand what we mean, and that we do mean it.Wherefore, be advised in time, and if you do not retreat altogetherfrom the Wells, be persuaded to study the customs of polite society."
This was a long speech for Sir Miles, but it was delivered with anauthority and dignity which made me regret that such good abilitiesshould have been thrown away at the gaming-table.
Will swore again at this. Then, observing that many of the bystanderswere laughing, he brandished his cudgel, and talked of knocking outbrains, breaking of necks, and so forth, until he was again reminded bySir Miles, who significantly tapped the hilt of his sword, that SignorStick was not to be allowed to reign at the Wells. Then he hung hishead and swore again.
"It will be best, sir," said Lord Chudleigh, "that you come no moreto the Terrace or the Assembly Rooms, with or without your cudgel.The Downs are wide and open; there you will doubtless find room forwalking, and an audience in the birds for these profane oaths, to whichour ladies are by no means accustomed."
"Let me go then," he said sulkily. "Od rot it--get out of my way, someof you!"<
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He walked straight down the Terrace, the people making way for him oneither hand, with furious looks and angry gestures. He went straightto his stable, where he thrashed a groom for some imaginary offence.Thence he went to the King's Head, where he called for a tankard andoffered to fight the best man in the company or for ten miles round,for fifty pounds a side, with quarterstaff, singlestick, or fists. Thenhe drank more beer; sat down and called for a pipe: smoked tobacco allthe afternoon; and got drunk early in the evening.
But he came no more to the Terrace.
"And now," said Peggy Baker, "I hope that we shall see Miss Nancyback again. Doubtless, my lord, the return of that lady, and the morefrequent appearance of Miss Pleydell with her, will bring your lordshipoftener from Durdans."
I have already mentioned our poets at Epsom, and their biting epigrams.Here is another, which was sent to me at this time:
"Kitty, a nymph who fain would climb, But yet may tumble down, Her charms she tries with voice and eyes First on a rustic clown.
"But bumpkin squire won't serve her turn When gentle Harry woos her, So farewell Will, for Kitty still Will laugh, although you lose her.
"Yet higher still than Hal or Will Her thoughts, ambitious, soar'd: 'Go, Will and Hal: my promise shall Be transferred to my Lord.'"
I suppose the verses were written at the request of Peggy Baker; butafter all they did me very little harm, and, indeed, nothing could dome either good or harm at Epsom any more, because my visit was broughtto a sudden close by an event which, as will be seen, might have beenmost disastrous for us all.
The selfishness and boorish behaviour of Will Levett not only kept usfrom walking on the Terrace in the afternoon, but also kept poor Nancyat home altogether. She would either come to our lodgings and sit withme lamenting over her bumpkin brother, or she would sit at home whenSir Robert was testy and her ladyship querulous, throwing the blameof her son's rudeness sometimes upon her husband, who, she said, hadnever whipped the boy as he ought to have been whipped, in accordancewith expressed Scripture orders strictly laid down; or upon Nancy,whose pert tongue and saucy ways had driven him from the Hall to thekennel; or upon myself, who was so ungrateful, after all that had beendone for me, as to refuse her son, in spite of all his protestations ofaffection. It was hard upon poor Nancy, the ordinary butt and victimof her brother's ill-temper, that she should be taunted with beingthe cause of it; and one could not but think that had madam been moresevere with her son at the beginning, things might have gone better.When a mother allows her son from the very beginning to have all hisown way, it is weak in the father to suffer it: but she must not thenturn round when the mischief is done, and reproach her daughter, whotook no part in the first mischief, with being the cause of it; norshould she call a girl ungrateful for refusing to marry a man whosevices are so prominent and conspicuous that they actually prevent hisvirtues from being discerned. Beneath that smock-frock, so to speak,that village rusticity, behind that blunt speech and rough manner,there may have been the sound kind heart of a gentleman, but the girlcould not take that for granted. The sequel proved indeed that she wasright in refusing, even had she been free; for Will died, as he lived,a profligate and a drunkard of the village kind. So that even his poormother was at last fain to acknowledge that he was a bad and wickedman, and but for some hope derived from his deathbed, would have gonein sorrow to her dying day.
"I must say, Kitty," said Lady Levett to me, "that I think a littlekindness from you might work wonders with our Will. And he a boy ofsuch a good heart!"
"He wants so much of me, madam," I replied. "With all respect, I cannotgive him what he asks, because I cannot love him."
"He says, child, that you promised him."
"Indeed, madam, I did not. I was in sorrow and lamentation over myfathers death and my departure from kind friends, when first Harry andthen Will came, and one after the other said words of which I took noheed. Yet when I saw them again, they both declared that I was promisedto them. Now, madam, could a girl promise to two men within half anhour?"
"I know not. Girls will do anything," said Lady Levett bitterly. "Yetit passes my understanding to know how the two boys could be somistaken. And yet you will take neither. What! would nothing serve youshort of a coronet?"
I made no reply.
"Tell me, then, girl, will Lord Chudleigh marry thee? It is a greatcondescension of him, and a great thing for a penniless young woman."
"He will marry me, madam," I replied, blushing, and thinking of what Ihad first to tell him.
She sighed.
"Well, I would he had cast his eyes on Nancy! Yet I say not, Kitty,that a coronet will be too heavy for thy head to wear. Some women areborn to be great ladies. My Nancy must content herself with some simplegentleman. Go, my dear. I must try to persuade this headstrong boy toreason."
"Persuade him, if you can, madam," I said, "to leave Epsom and go home.He will come to harm in this place. Two or three of the gentlemen havedeclared that they will follow the example of Lord Chudleigh and SirMiles Lackington, and wear swords, although that is against the rulesof the Wells, in order to punish him for his rudeness should he ventureagain to shake his cudgel in the faces of the visitors, which he hasdone already to their great discomfiture."
I know not if his mother tried to persuade him, but I do know that hedid not leave Epsom, and that the evil thing which I had prophesied,not knowing how true my words might be, did actually fall upon him.This shows how careful one should be in foretelling disasters, even ifthey seem imminent. And indeed, having before one the experiences ofmaturity, it seems as if it would be well did a new order of prophetsand prophetesses arise with a message of joy and comfort, instead ofdisaster and misery, such as the message which poor Cassandra had todeliver.
Now, when my lord had given poor Will the warning of which I havetold, he retired ashamed and angry, but impenitent, to those obscurehaunts where tobacco is continually offered as incense to the gods ofrusticity. Here he continued to sit, smoked pipes, drank beer, andcudgelled stable-boys to his heart's content; while we, being happilyquit of him, came forth again without fear.
Nancy, however, assured me that something would happen before herbrother, whose stubbornness and masterful disposition were well knownto her, relinquished his pursuit and persecution of the woman on whomhe had set his heart.
"My dear," she said, "I know Will, as you do, of old. Was there evera single thing which he desired that he did not obtain? Why, when hewas a child and cried for the moon they brought him a piece of greencheese, which they told him was cut from the moon on purpose forhim to eat. Was he ever crossed in anything? Has there ever been asingle occasion on which he gave up any enjoyment or desire out ofconsideration for another person? Rather, when he has gone among hisequals has he not become an object of scorn and hatred? He made nofriends at school, nor any at Cambridge, from which place of learninghe was, as you know, disgracefully expelled; the gentlemen of thecounty will not associate with him except on the hunting-field--youknow all this, Kitty. Think, then, since he has made up his mind tomarry a girl; since he has bragged about his condescension, as heconsiders it; since he has promised his pot-companions to bring homea wife, how great must be his rage and disappointment. He will _dosomething_, Kitty. He is desperate."
What, however, could he do? He came not near our lodgings; he made nosign of any evil intention; but he did not go away.
"He is desperate," repeated Nancy. "He cares little about you, buthe thinks of his own reputation. And, my dear, do not think becauseWill, poor boy, is a sot and a clown that he does not think of hisreputation. His hobby is to be thought a man who can and will have hisown way. He has openly bragged about the country, and even among hisboozing companions at Epsom, that he will marry you. Therefore, oh! mydear, be careful. Go not forth alone, or without a gentleman or two,after dark. For I believe that Will would do anything, anything, forthe sake of what he calls his honour. For, Kitty, to be laughed a
twould be the death-blow to his vanity. He knows that he is ignorant andboorish, but he consoles himself with the thought that he is strong."
What, I repeated, being uneasy more than a little, could he do?
At first I thought of asking Harry Temple quietly to watch over Willand bring me news if anything was in the wind; but that would not doeither, because one could not ask Harry to act the part of a spy.Next, I thought that I had only to ask for a bodyguard of the young menat the Wells to get a troop for my protection; but what a presumptionwould this be! Finally, I spoke my fears to Sir Robert, begging him notto tell madam what I had said.
"Courage, Kitty!" said Sir Robert Levett. "Will is a clown, for whichwe have to thank our own indulgence. Better had it been to break athousand good ash-saplings over his back, than to see him as he is.Well, the wise man says: 'The father of a fool hath no joy,' Yet Willis of gentle blood, and I cannot doubt that he will presently yield andgo away patiently."
"Have you asked him, sir?"
"Child, I ask him daily, for his mother's sake and for Nancy's, to goaway and leave us in peace. But I have no control over him. He doth butswear and call for more ale. His mother also daily visits him, and getssmall comfort thereby. His heart is hard and against us all."
"Then, sir, if Mrs. Esther will consent, one cause of his discontentshall be removed, for we will go away to London where he will not beable to find us."
"Yes, Kitty," he replied. "That will be best. Yet who would ever havethought I could wish our sweet tall Kitty to go away from us!"
The sweet tall Kitty could not but burst out crying at such tendernessfrom her old friend and protector.
"Forgive me, sir," I said, while he kissed me and patted my cheek as ifI was a child again. "Forgive me, sir, that I cannot marry Will, as hewould wish."
"Child!" he exclaimed, starting to his feet in a paroxysm of passion."God forgive me for saying so, but I would rather see a girl I loved inher grave than married to my son!"
We then held a consultation, Lord Chudleigh being of the party; and itwas resolved that we should return to London without delay, and withoutacquainting any at the Wells with our intention, which was to becarried into effect as soon as we could get our things put together;in fact, in two days' time.
So secret were our preparations that we did not even tell Nancy, andwere most careful to let no suspicion enter the head of Cicely Crump,a town-crier of the busiest and loudest, who was, besides, continuallybeset by the young gallants, seeking through her to convey letters,poems, and little gifts to me. Yet so faithful was the girl, as Iafterwards found out, and so fond of me, that I might safely havetrusted her with any secret.
(Soon after the event which I am now to relate, I took Cicely into myservice as still-room maid. She remained with me for four years, beingever the same merry, faithful, and talkative wench. She then, by myadvice, married the curate of the parish, to whom she made as good awife as she had been a servant, and brought up eleven children, four ofthem being twins, in the fear of God and the love of duty.)
We were to depart on Friday, the evening being chosen so that MasterWill should not be able to see us go. Lord Chudleigh and Sir Milespromised to ride with our coach all the way to London for protection. Ihave often remembered since that Friday is ever an unlucky day to beginupon. Had we made the day Thursday, for instance, we should have gottensafely away without the thing which happened.
On Thursday afternoon we repaired to the Terrace as usual, I rather sadat thinking that my reign as Queen of the Wells would soon be over, andwondering whether the future could have any days in store for me sohappy as those which a kind Providence had already bestowed upon me.There was to be a dance at six, and a tea at five. About four o'clock,Nancy and I, accompanied only by Mr. Stallabras, sauntered away fromthe Terrace and took the road leading to the Downs. Nancy afterwardstold me that she had noticed a carriage with four horses waiting underthe trees between the Terrace and the King's Head, which, on ourleaving the crowd, slowly followed us along the road; but she thoughtnothing of this at the time.
Mr. Stallabras, with gallant and consequential air, ambled beside us,his hat under his arm, his snuff box in his left hand, and his canedangling from his right wrist. He was, as usual, occupied with hisown poetry, which, indeed, through the interest of the brewers widow(whom he subsequently married), seemed about to become the fashion. Ithought, then, that it was splendid poetry, but I fear, now, that itmust have been what Dr. Johnson once called a certain man's writing,"terrible skimble skamble stuff;" in other words, poor SolomonStallabras had the power of imitation, and would run you off rhymesas glibly as monkey can peel cocoa-nuts (according to the reports oftravellers), quite in the style of Pope. Yet the curious might look invain for any thought above the common, or any image which had not beenused again and again. Such poets, though they hand down the lamp, donot, I suppose, greatly increase the poetic reputation of their country.
"It seems a pity, Mr. Stallabras," I was saying, "that you, who are sofond of singing about the purling stream and the turtles cooing in thegrove, do not know more about the familiar objects of the country. Hereis this little flower"--only a humble crane's-bill, yet a beautifulflower--"you do not, I engage, know its name?"
He did not.
"Observe, again, the spreading leaves of yonder great tree. You do not,I suppose, know its name?"
He did not. A common beech it was, yet as stately as any of those whichmay be seen near Farnham Royal, or in Windsor Forest.
"And listen! there is a bird whose note, I dare swear, you do notknow?"
He did not. Would you believe that it was actually the voice of thevery turtle-dove of which he was so fond?
"The Poet," he explained, not at all abashed by the display of somuch ignorance--"the Poet should not fetter his mind with thelittle details of nature: he dwells in his thought remote from theirconsideration: a flower is to him a flower, which is associated withthe grove and the purling stream: a shepherd gathers a posy of flowersfor his nymph: a tree is a tree which stands beside the stream toshelter the swain and his goddess: the song of one bird is as good asthe song of another, provided it melodiously echoes the sighs of theshepherd. As for----"
Here we were interrupted. The post-chaise drove rapidly up the road andovertook us. As we turned to look, it stopped, and two men jumped outof it, armed with cudgels. Nancy seized my arm: "Kitty! Will is in thecarriage!" I will do Solomon Stallabras justice. He showed himself,though small of stature and puny of limb, as courageous as a lion. Hewas armed with nothing but his cane, but with this he flew upon theruffians who rushed to seize me, and beat, struck, clung, and kicked inmy defence. Nancy threw herself upon me and shrieked, crying, that ifthey carried me away they should drag her too. While we struggled, Isaw the evil face of Will looking out of the carriage: it was distortedby every evil passion: he cried to the men to murder Solomon: hethreatened his sister to kill her unless she let go: he called to methat it would be the worse for me unless I came quiet. Then he sprangfrom the carriage himself, having originally purposed, I suppose, totake no part in the fray, and with his cudgel dealt Solomon such a blowupon his head that he fell senseless in the road. After this he seizedNancy, his own sister, dragged her from me, swore at the men for beingcowardly lubbers, and while they threw me into the carriage, he hurledhis sister shrieking and crying on the prostrate form of the poor poet,and sprang into the carriage after me.
"Run!" he cried to the two men; "off with you both, different ways. Ifyou get caught, it will be the worse for you."
We were half-way up the hill which leads from the town to the Downs;in fact, we were not very far above the doctor's house, but there wasa wind in the road, so that had his men been looking out of his doorsthey could not have seen what was being done, though they might haveheard almost on the Terrace the cries, the dreadful imprecations, andthe shrieks of Nancy and myself.
They had thrown me upon the seat with such violence that I wasbreathless for a few moments, as well as sick and gi
ddy with thedreadful scene--it lasted but half a minute--which I had witnessed.Yet as Will leaped in after me and gave the word to drive on, I sawlying in the dust of the road the prostrate and insensible form of poorSolomon and my faithful, tender Nancy, who had so fought and wrestledwith the villains, not with any hope that she could beat them off,but in order to gain time, lying half over the body of the poet, halfon the open road. Alas! the road at this time was generally deserted;there was no one to rescue, though beyond the tall elms upon the rightlay the gardens and park of Durdans, where my lord was walking at thatmoment, perhaps, meditating upon his wretched Kitty.
As for my companion, his face resembled that of some angry devil, movedby every evil passion at once. If I were asked to depict the worst faceI ever saw, I should try to draw the visage of this poor boy. He couldnot speak for passion. He was in such a rage that his tongue clave tothe roof of his mouth. He could not even swear. He could only splutter.For a while he sat beside me ejaculating at intervals disjointed words,while his angry eyes glared about the coach, and his red cheeks flamedwith wrath.
The Downs were quite deserted: not even a shepherd was in sight. Wedrove along a road which I knew well, a mere track across the grass:the smooth turf was easy for the horses, and we were travelling at sucha pace that it seemed impossible for any one to overtake us.
My heart sank, yet I bade myself keep up courage. With this wild beastat my side it behoved me to show no sign of terror.
Every woman has got two weapons, one provided by Nature, the other byArt. The first is the one which King Solomon had ever in his mind whenhe wrote the Book of Proverbs (which should be the guide and companionof every young man). Certainly he had so many wives that he had moreopportunities than fall to the lot of most husbands (who have only theexperience of one) of knowing the power of a woman's tongue. He sayshe would rather dwell in the wilderness than with an angry woman: inthe corner of the house-top than with a brawling woman. (Yet the lastchapter of the book is in praise of the wise woman.) I had, therefore,my tongue. Next I had a pair of scissors, so that if my fine gentlemanattempted the least liberty, I could, and would, give him such a stabwith the sharp points as would admonish him to good purpose. But mostlyI relied upon my tongue, knowing of old that with this weapon Will waseasily discomfited.
Presently, the cool air of the Downs blowing upon his cheeks, Willbecame somewhat soothed, and his ejaculations became less like angrywords used as interjections. I sat silent, taking no notice of what hesaid, and answering nothing to any of his wild speeches. But be surethat I kept one eye upon the window, ready to shriek if any passer-byappeared.
The angry interjections settled down into sentences, and Will at lastbecame able to put some of his thoughts into words.
He began a strange, wild, rambling speech, during which I felt somewhatsorry for him. It was such a speech as an Indian savage might have madewhen roused to wrath by the loss of his squaw.
He bade me remember that he had known me from infancy, that he hadalways been brought up with me. I had therefore a first duty to performin the shape of gratitude to him (for being a child with him in thesame village). Next he informed me that having made up his mind tomarry me, nothing should stop him, because nothing ever did stop himin anything he proposed to do, and if any one tried to stop him, healways knocked down that man first, and when he had left him for dead,he then went and did the thing. This, he said, was well known. Verywell, then. Did I dare, then, he asked, knowing as I did full well thischaracter of his for resolution, to fly in the face of that knowledgeand throw him over? What made the matter, he argued, a case of theblackest ingratitude, was that I had thrown him over for a lord: apoor, chicken-hearted, painted lord, whom he, for his own part, couldknock down at a single blow. He would now, therefore, show me what mynew friends were worth. Here I was, boxed up in the carriage with him,safe and sound, not a soul within hail, being driven merrily acrosscountry to a place he knew of, where I should find a house, a parson,and a prayer-book. With these before me I might, if I pleased, yelp andcry for my lord and his precious friend, Sir Miles Lackington. Theywould be far enough away, with their swords and their mincing ways.When I was married they might come and--what was I laughing at?
I laughed, in fact, because I remembered another weapon. As a lastresource I could proclaim to the clergyman that I was already a wife,the wife of Lord Chudleigh. I knew enough of the clergy to be certainthat although a man might be here and there found among them capableof marrying a woman against her will, just as men are found among themwho, to please their patrons, will drink with them, go cock-fightingwith them, and in every other way forget the sacred duties of theircalling, yet not one among them all, however bad, would dare to marryagain a woman already married. Therefore I laughed.
A London profligate would, perhaps, have got a man to personate aclergyman; but this wickedness, I was sure, would not enter into thehead of simple Will Levett. It was as much as he could devise--and thatwas surely a good deal--to bribe some wretched country curate to bewaiting for us at our journey's end, to marry us on the spot. When Iunderstood this I laughed again, thinking what a fool Will would lookwhen he was thwarted again.
"Zounds, madam! I see no cause for laughing."
"I laugh, Will," I said, "because you are such a fool. As for you,unless you order your horses' heads to be turned round, and drive meinstantly back to Epsom, you will not laugh, but cry."
To this he made no reply, but whistled. Now to whistle when a persongives you serious advice, is in Kent considered a contemptuous reply.
"Ah!" he went on, "sly as you were, I have been too many for you. Itwas you who set the two bullies, your great lord and your baronet, onme with their swords--made all the people laugh at me. You shall payfor it all. It was you set Nancy crying and scolding upon me enough togive a man a fit; it was you, I know, set my father on to me. Says ifhe cannot cut me off with a shilling, he will sell the timber, ruinthe estate, and let me starve so long as he lives. Let 'un! let 'un!let 'un, I say! All of you do your worst. Honest Will Levett will dowhat he likes, and have what he likes. Bull-dog Will! Holdfast Will!Tear-'em Will! By the Lord! there isn't a man in the country can getthe better of him. Oh, I know your ways! Wait till I've married you.Then butter wont melt in your mouth. Then it will be, 'Dear Will! kindWill! sweet Will! best of husbands and of men!'--oh! I know what youare well enough. Why--after all--what is one woman that she should setherself above other women? Take off your powder and your patches andyour hoops, how are you better than Blacksmith's Sue? Answer me that.And why do I take all this trouble about you, to anger my father andspite my mother, when Blacksmith's Sue would make as good a wife--ay! athousand times better--because she can bake and brew, and shoe a horse,and mend a cracked crown, and fight a game-cock, and teach a ferret,and train a terrier or a bull-pup, whereas you--what are you good for,but to sit about and look grand, and come over the fellows with yourmake-pretence, false, lying, whimsy-flimsy ways, your smilin' lookswhen a lord is at your heels, and your 'Oh, fie! Will,' if it's only anold friend. Why, I say? Because I've told my friends that I'm going tobring you home my wife, and my honour's at stake. Because I am one aswill have his will, spite of 'em all. Because I don't love you, not onebit, since I found you out for what you are, a false, jiltin' jade; andI value the little finger of Sue more than your whole body, tall as youare, and fine as you think yourself. Oh! by the Lord----"
I am sorry I cannot give the whole of his speech, which was too coarseand profane to be written down for polite eyes to read. Suffice itto say that it included every form of wicked word or speech knownto the rustics of Kent, and that he threatened me, in the course ofit, with every kind of cruelty that he could think of, counting asnothing a horsewhipping every day until I became cheerful. Now, tohorsewhip your wife every day, in order to make her cheerful, seemslike starving your horse in order to make him more spirited; or to flogan ignorant boy in order to make him learned; or to kick your dog inorder to make him love you. Perhaps he did not mean qui
te all that hesaid; but one cannot tell, because his friends were chiefly in thatrank of life where it is considered a right and honourable thing tobeat a wife, cuff a son, and kick a daughter, and even the coarsestboor of a village will have obedience from the wretched woman at hisbeck and call. I think that Will would have belaboured his wife withthe greatest contentment, and as a pious duty, in order to make hersatisfied with her lot, cheerful over her duties, and merry at heartat the contemplation of so good a husband. "A wife, a dog, and awalnut-tree, the harder you flog them, the better they be." There areplenty of Solomon's Proverbs in favour of flogging a child, but none,that I know of, which recommend the flogging of a wife.
Blacksmith Sam, Will said, in his own village, the father of theincomparable Sue, used this method to tame his wife, with satisfactoryresults; and Pharaoh, his own keeper, was at that very time engagedupon a similar course of discipline with his partner. What, heexplained, is good for such as those women is good for all. "Beat 'emand thrash 'em till they follow to heel like a well-bred retriever.Keep the stick over 'em till such times as they become as meek as anold cow, and as obedient as a sheep-dog."
While he was still pouring forth these maxims for my informationand encouragement my heart began to beat violently, because I heard(distantly at first) the hoofs of horses behind us. Will went on,hearing and suspecting nothing, growing louder and louder in hisdenunciation of women, and the proper treatment of them.
The hoofs drew nearer. Presently they came alongside. I looked out. Oneon each side of our carriage, there rode Lord Chudleigh and Sir MilesLackington.
But I laughed no longer, for I saw before me the advent of someterrible thing, and a dreadful trembling seized me. My lord's face wasstern, and Sir Miles, for the first time in my recollection, was graveand serious, as one who hath a hard duty to perform. So mad was poorheadstrong Will that he neither heard them nor, for a while, saw them,but continued his swearing and raving.
They called aloud to the postillions to stop the horses. This it wasthat roused Will, and he sprang to his feet with a yell of rage, andthrusting his head out of the window, bawled to the boys to drivefaster, faster! They whipped and spurred their horses. My lord saidnothing, but rode on, keeping up with the carriage.
"Stop!" cried Sir Miles.
"Go on!" cried Will.
Sir Miles drew a pistol and deliberately cocked it.
"If you will not stop," he cried, holding his pistol to the post-boy'shead, "I will fire!"
"Go on!" cried Will. "Go on; he dares not fire."
The fellow--I knew him for a stable-boy whose life at the Hall had beenone long series of kicks, cuffs, abuse, and horsewhippings at the handsof his young master--ducked his head between his shoulders, and putup his elbows, as if that which had so often protected him when Willwas enforcing discipline by the help of Father Stick, would avail himagainst a pistol-shot. But he obeyed his master, mostly from force ofhabit, and spurred his horse.
Sir Miles changed the direction of the pistol, and leaning forward,discharged the contents in the head of the horse which the boy wasriding. The poor creature bounded forward and fell dead.
There was a moment of confusion; the flying horses stumbled and fell,the boys were thrown from their saddles: the carriage was stoppedsuddenly.
Then, what followed happened all in a moment. Yet it is a moment whichto me is longer than any day of my life, because the terror of it hasnever left me, and because in dreams it often comes back to me. Ah!what a prophetess was Nancy when she said that some dreadful thingwould happen before all was over, unless Will went away.
Sir Miles and my lord sprang to their feet. Will, with a terrible oath,leaped forth from the carriage. For a moment he stood glaring from oneto the other like a wild beast brought to bay. He _was_ a wild beast.Then he raised his great cudgel and rushed at my lord.
"You!" he cried; "you are the cause of it. I will beat out your brains!"
Lord Chudleigh leaped lightly aside, and avoided the blow which wouldhave killed him had it struck his head. Then I saw the bright bladein his hand glisten for a moment in the sunlight, and then Will fellbackwards with a cry, and lay lifeless on the green turf, while my lordstood above him, drops of red blood trickling down his sword.
"I fear, my lord," said Sir Miles, "that you have killed him.Fortunately, I am witness that it was in self-defence."
"You have killed him! You have killed my master!" cried the stableboy, whose left arm, which was broken by his fall from the horse, hunghelpless at his side. "You have killed the best master in all theworld! Lord or no lord, you shall hang!"
He rushed with his one hand to seize the slayer of his master, thispoor faithful slave, whose affections had only grown firmer with everybeating. Sir Miles caught him by the coat-collar and dragged him back.
"Quiet, fool! Attend to your master. He is not dead--yet."
He looked dead. The rage was gone out of his eyes, which were closed,and the blood had left the cheeks, which were pallid. Poor Will neverlooked so handsome as when he lay, to all seeming, dead.
Lord Chudleigh looked on his prostrate form with a kind of sternsadness. The taking of life, even in such a cause and in self-defence,is a dreadful thing. Like Lamech (who also might have been defendinghis own life), he had slain a man to his wounding, and a young man tohis hurt.
"Kitty," he said, in a low voice, taking my hand, "this is a grievousday's work. Yet I regret it not, since I have saved your honour!"
"My lord," I replied, "I had the saving of that in my own hands. Butyou have rescued me from a wild beast, whose end I grieve over becauseI knew him when he was yet an innocent boy."
"Come," said Sir Miles, "we must take measures. Here, fellows! come,lift your master."
The two boys, with his help, lifted Will, who, as they moved him,groaned heavily, into the carriage.
"Now," said Sir Miles, "one of you get inside. Lift his head. If--butthat is impossible--you come across water, pour a little into hismouth. The other mount, and drive home as quickly as you can."
I bethought me of my friend the mad doctor, and bade them take theirmaster to his house, which was, as I have said, on the road between thetown and the Downs, so that he might be carried there quietly, withoutcausing an immediate scandal in the town.
The fellows were now quite obedient and subdued. Sir Miles, who seemedto know what was to be done, made some sort of splint with a piece ofpoor Will's cudgel, for the broken arm, which he tied up roughly, andbade the boy be careful to get attended to as soon as his master wasserved. In that class of life, as is well known, wounds, broken bones,and even the most cruel surgical operations, are often endured withpatience which would equal the most heroic courage, if it were not dueto a stupid insensibility. The most sensitive of men are often the mostcourageous, because they know what it is they are about to suffer.
However, they did as they were told, and presently drove back, thethird horse following with a rope.
Then we were left alone, with the blood upon the grass and the deadhorse lying beside us.
Sir Miles took my lord's sword from him, wiped it on the turf, andrestored it to him.
"Come," he said, "we must consider what to do."
"There is nothing to do," said Lord Chudleigh, "except to take MissPleydell home again."
"Pardon me, my lord," Sir Miles interposed; "if ever I saw mischiefwritten on any man's face, it was written on the face of that boy. Abrave lad, too, and would have driven to the death at his master'scommand."
"How can he do harm?" I asked. "Why, Sir Miles, you are witness; yousaw Will Levett with his cudgel rush upon his lordship, who but drew inself-defence. I am another witness. I hope the simple words of such asyou and I would be believed before the oath of a stable-lad."
"I suppose they would," he replied. "Meantime, there is the fact,known to all the company at the Wells, that both you and I, LordChudleigh, had publicly informed this unhappy young man, that, undercertain circumstances, we would run him through. The circumstance
s_have_ happened, and we _have_ run him through. This complication maybe unfortunate as regards the minds of that pig-headed institution, acoroner's inquest."
"Sir!" cried my lord, "do you suppose--would you have me believe--thatthis affair might be construed into anything but an act ofself-defence?"
"I do indeed," he replied gravely; "and so deeply do I feel it, thatI would counsel a retreat into some place where we shall not besuspected, for such a time as may be necessary. If the worst happens,and the man dies, your lordship may surrender yourself--but inLondon--not to a country bench. If the man recovers, well and good;you can go abroad again."
At first my lord would hear nothing of such a plan. Why should he runaway? Was it becoming for a man to fly from the laws of his country?Then I put in a word, pointing out that it was one thing for a case tobe tried before a jury of ignorant, prejudiced men upon an inquest, andanother thing altogether for the case to be tried by a dispassionateand unprejudiced jury. I said, too, that away from this place, thecircumstances of the case, the brutal assault upon Solomon Stallabras,whose ribs, it appeared, were broken, as well as his collar-bone,the ferocious treatment of Nancy by her own brother, and my forcibleabduction in open daylight, would certainly be considered provocationenough for anything, and a justification (combined with the othercircumstances) of the homicide, if unhappily Will should die.
This moved my lord somewhat.
Where, he asked, could he go, so as to lie _perdu_ for a few days, or afew weeks, if necessary?
"I have thought upon that," replied Sir Miles, looking at me with ameaning eye (but I blushed and turned pale, and reddened again). "Ihave just now thought of a plan. Your lordship has been there oncealready; I mean the Rules of the Fleet. Here will I find you lodgings,where no one will look for you; where, if you please to lie hidden forawhile, you may do so in perfect safety; where you may have any societyyou please, from a baronet out at elbows to a baker in rags, or nosociety at all, if you please to lie quiet."
"I like not the place," said his lordship. "I have been there it istrue once, and it was once too often. Find me another place."
"I know no other," Sir Miles replied. "You must be in London; you mustbe in some place where no one will suspect you. As for me, I will staynear you, but not with you. There will be some noise over this affair;it will be well for us to be separated, yet not so far but that I canwork for you. Come, my lord, be reasonable. The place is dirty andnoisy; but what signify dirt and noise when safety is concerned?"
He wavered. The recollection of the place was odious to him. Yet thecase was pressing.
He gave way.
"Have it," he said, "your own way. Kitty," he took my hand, "hopelessas is my case, desperate as is my condition, I am happy in havingrescued you, no matter at what cost."
"Your lordship's case is not so hopeless as mine," said Sir Miles; "yetI, too, am happy in having helped to rescue this, the noblest creaturein the world."
The tears were in my eyes as these two men spoke of me in such terms.How could I deserve this worship? By what act, or thought, or prayer,could I raise myself to the level where my lord's imagination hadplanted me? O Love divine, since it makes men and women long to beangels!
"I mean," Sir Miles continued bluntly, "that since your lordship hasfound favour in her eyes, your case cannot be hopeless."
Lord Chudleigh raised my hand to his lips, with a sadness in his eyesof which I alone could discern the cause.
"Gentlemen," I cried, "we waste the time in idle compliments. Mount andride off as quickly as you may. As for me, it is but three miles acrossthe Downs. I have no fear. I shall meet no one. Mount, I say, and rideto London without more ado."
They obeyed; they left me standing alone. As my eyes turned fromfollowing them, they lighted on the pool of blood--Will's blood, whichreddened the turf--and upon the poor dead horse. Then I hastened backacross the Downs.
It was a clear, bright evening, the sun yet pretty high. The time wasabout half-past five; before long the minuets would be beginning in theAssembly Rooms; yet Lady Levett would know--I hoped that she alreadyknew--the dreadful wickedness of her son. Would not, indeed, all thecompany know it? Would not the assault on Mr. Stallabras and on Nancybe noised abroad?
Indeed, the news had already sped abroad.
Long before I reached the edge of the Downs. I became aware of a crowdof people. They consisted of the whole company, all the visitors atEpsom, who came forth, leaving the public tea and the dance, to meetthe girl who had been thus carried away by force.
Harry Temple came forward as soon as I was in sight to meet me. He wasvery grave.
"Kitty," he said, "this is a bad day's work."
"How is Will? You have seen Will?"
"I fear he is already dead. The doctor to whom you sent him declaresthat he is dying fast. His mother is with him."
"O Harry!" I sighed; "I gave him no encouragement. There was not theleast encouragement to believe that I would marry him."
"No one thinks you did, Kitty; not even his mother. Yet others havebeen carried away by admiration of your charms to think----"
"Oh! my charms, my charms! Harry, with poor Will at death's door, letus at least be spared the language of compliment."
By this time we had reached the stream of people. Among them, I amhappy to say, was not Peggy Baker. She, at least, did not come out togaze upon her unhappy rival, for whose sake one gallant gentleman laybleeding to death, and two others were riding away to hide themselvesuntil the first storm should be blown over. The rest parted, right andleft, and made a lane through which we passed in silence. As I wentthrough, I heard voices whispering: "Where is Lord Chudleigh? where isSir Miles? How pale she looks!" and so forth; comments of the crowdwhich has no heart, no pity, no sympathy. It came out to-day to lookupon a woman to whom a great insult had been offered with as littlepity as to-morrow it would go to see a criminal flogged from Newgate toTyburn, or a woman whipped at Bridewell, or a wretched thief beatenbefore the Alderman, or a batch of rogues hanged. They came to beamused. Amusement, to most people, is the contemplation of other folks'sufferings. If tortures were to be introduced again, if, as happened,we are told, in the time of Nero, Christians could be wrapped in pitchand then set fire to, thus becoming living candles, I verily believethe crowd would rush to see, and would enjoy the spectacle the more,the longer the sufferings of the poor creatures were prolonged.
Solomon Stallabras, Harry told me, was comfortably put into bed, hisribs being set and his collar-bone properly put in place: there wasno doubt that he would do well. Nancy, too, was in bed, sick with thefright she had received, but not otherwise much hurt. Mrs. Estherwas wringing her hands and crying at home, with Cicely to look afterher. Sir Robert and Lady Levett were at the doctor's. It was, I havesaid, the same doctor who had undertaken the temporary charge of HarryTemple. As we drew near the house--I observed that most of the peopleremained behind upon the Downs in hopes of seeing the return of LordChudleigh, in which hope they were disappointed--Harry became silent.
"Come, Harry," I said, reading his thoughts, "you must forgive me forsaving your life or from preventing you from killing Lord Chudleigh. Bereasonable, dear Harry."
He smiled.
"I have forgiven you long since," he replied. "You acted like a woman;that is, you did just what you thought best at the moment. But Icannot, and will not, forgive the man with his impudent smile and hisbuckets of water."
"Nay, Harry," I said, "he acted according to his profession. Come withme to the house. I cannot even go to Mrs. Esther until I have seen orheard about poor Will."
The doctor was coming from the sick man's chamber when we came to thehouse. They had placed Will in one of the private rooms, away from thedreadful gallery where the madmen were chained to the wall. With himwere Lady Levett and Sir Robert.
The doctor coughed in his most important manner.
"Your obedient servant, Miss Pleydell. Sir, your most obedient, humbleservant. You are come, no doubt, to inquire after
the victim of thismost unhappy affair. Poor Mr. William Levett, I grieve to say, is in amost precarious condition."
"Can nothing save him? O doctor!"
"Nothing can save him, young lady," he replied, "but a miracle. Thatmiracle--I call it nothing short--is sometimes granted by beneficentProvidence to youth and strength only when--I say only when--theirpossession is aided by the very highest medical skill that the countrycan produce. I say the very highest; no mere pretender will avail."
"Indeed, doctor, we have that skill, I doubt not, in yourself."
"I say nothing,"--he bowed and spread his hands--"I say nothing. It isnot for me to speak."
"And, sir," said Harry, "you are doubtless aware that Sir Robert isa gentleman of a considerable estate, and that--in fact--you mayexpect----"
"Sir Robert," he replied, with a smile which speedily, in spite ofall his efforts, broadened into a grin of satisfaction, "has alreadypromised that no expense shall be spared, no honorarium be consideredtoo large if I give him back his son. Yet we can but do our best.Science is strong, but a poke of cold steel in the inwards is, if youplease, stronger still."
"Will you let me see Sir Robert?" I asked.
The doctor stole back to the room, and presently Sir Robert came forth.
He kissed me on the forehead while his tears fell upon my head.
"My dear," he said, "I ask your pardon in the name of my headstrongson. We have held an honourable name for five hundred years and more:in all that time no deed so dastardly has been attempted by any one ofour house. Yet the poor wretch hath paid dearly for his wickedness."
"Oh, sir!" I cried, "there is no reason why you should speak offorgiveness, who have ever been so kind to me. Poor Will will repentand be very good when he recovers."
"I think," said his father sadly, "that he will not recover. Go, child.Ask not to see the boy's mother, because women are unreasonable intheir grief, and she might perchance say things of which she wouldafterwards be ashamed. Go to Mrs. Pimpernel, and tell her of thysafety."
This was, indeed, all that could be done. Yet after allaying theterrors and soothing the agitated spirits of Mrs. Esther, whoseimagination had conjured up, already, the fate of Clarissa, and who sawin headstrong Will another Lovelace, without, to be sure, the gracesand attractions of that dreadful monster, I went to inquire after mygallant little Poet.
He was lying on his bed, with orders not to move, and wrapped up like ababy.
I thanked him for his brave defence, which I said would have beencertainly efficacious, had it not been for the cowardly blow on theback of his head. I further added, that no man in the world could havebehaved more resolutely, or with greater courage.
"This day," he said, "has been the reward for a Poet's devotion. Inthose bowers, Miss Kitty, when first we met"--the bower was the FleetMarket--"beside that stream"--the Fleet Ditch--"where the woodlandchoir was held"--the clack of the poultry about to be killed--"andthe playful lambs frisked"--on their way to the butchers of NewgateStreet--"I dared to love a goddess who was as much too high for meas ever Beatrice was for her Italian worshipper. I refer not to thedisparity of birth, because (though brought up in a hosier's shop) theMuse, you have acknowledged, confers nobility. An attorney is by rightof his calling styled a gentleman; but a Poet, by right of his genius,is equal of--ay, even of Lord Chudleigh."
"Surely, dear sir," I replied, "no one can refuse the highest title ofdistinction to a gentleman of merit and genius."
"But I think," he went on, "of that disparity which consists in virtueand goodness. That can never be removed. How happy, therefore, ought Ito be in feeling that I have helped to preserve an angel from the handsof those barbarous monsters who would have violated such a sanctuary.What are these wounds!--a broken rib--a cracked collar bone--a bump onthe back of the head? I wish they had been broken legs and arms in yourservice."
I laughed--but this devotion, more than half of it being real, touchedmy heart. The little Poet, conceited, vain, sometimes foolish, wasennobled, not by his genius, of which he thought so much, but by hisgreat belief in goodness and virtue. Women should be humble when theyremember, that if a good man loves them it is not in very truth, thewoman (who is a poor creature full of imperfections) that they love,but the soul--the noble, pure, exalted soul, as high as their owngrandest conception of goodness and piety, which they believe to bein her. How can we rise to so great a height? How can we, withoutabasement, pretend to such virtue? How can we be so wicked and so cruelas, after marriage, to betray to our husbands the real littleness ofour souls? As my lord believed me to be, so might I (then I prayed)rise to heaven in very truth, and even soar to higher flights.
Now, when I reached home, a happy thought came to me. I knew the nameof Solomon's latest patron, the brewer's widow. I sat down and wroteher a letter. I said that I thought it my simple duty to inform her,although I had not the honour of her friendship, that the Poet whom shehad distinguished with her special favour and patronage, was not in aposition to pay her his respects, either by letter, or by verse, or inperson, being at that time ill in bed with ribs and other bones brokenin defence of a lady. And to this I added, so that she might not growjealous, which one must always guard against in dealing with women,that he was walking with two ladies, not one, and that the gallantryhe showed in defence of her who was attacked was so great that noteven a lover could have displayed more courage for his mistress thanhe did for this lady (myself), who was promised to another gentleman.Nor was it, I added, until he was laid senseless on the field thatthe ravishers were able to carry off the lady, who was immediatelyafterwards rescued by two friends of the Poet, Lord Chudleigh and SirMiles Lackington.
This crafty letter, which was all true, and yet designedly exaggerated,as when I called my lord Solomon's friend, produced more than theeffect which I desired. For the widow, who was in London, came downto Epsom the next day, in a carriage and four, to see the hero. Now,she was still young, and comely as well as rich. Therefore, when shedeclared to him that no woman could resist such a combination of geniusand heroic courage, Solomon could only reply that he would rush intoher arms with all a lover's rapture, as soon as his ribs permitted anembrace. In short, within a month they were married at Epsom Church,and Solomon, though he wrote less poetry in after years than hisfriends desired, lived in great comfort and happiness, having a wifeof sweet temper, who thought him the noblest and most richly endowedof men, and a brewery whose vats produced him an income far beyond hiswants, though these expanded as time went on.
As for Nancy, she was little hurt, save for the fright and the shame ofit. Yet her brother, the cause of all, was lying dangerously wounded,and she could not for very pity speak her mind upon his wickedness.
The company, I learned from Cicely, were greatly moved about it: thepublic Tea had been broken up in confusion, while all sallied forthto the scene of the outrage; nor was the assembly resumed when it wasdiscovered that Will Levett had been run through the body by LordChudleigh, and was now lying at the point of death.
In the morning Cicely went early to inquire at the Doctor's. Alas! Willwas in a high fever; Lady Levett had been sitting with him all night;it was not thought that he would live through the day. I put on my hoodand went to see Nancy.
"Oh, my dear, dear Kitty!" she cried, "sure we shall all go distracted.You have heard what they say. Poor Will is in a bad way indeed; thefever is so high that the doctor declares his life to be in hourlydanger. He is delirious, and in his dreams he knows not what he says,so that you would fancy him among his dogs or in his stables--where,indeed, it hath been his chief delight to dwell--or with the rusticswith whom he would drink. It is terrible, my father says, that one sonear his end, who must shortly appear before his Maker, should thusblaspheme and swear such horrid oaths. If we could only ensure him halfan hour of sense, even with pain, so that the clergyman might exhorthim. Alas! our Will hath led so shocking a life--my dear, I know moreof his ways than he thinks--that I doubt his conscience and his heartare hardened. O Kitty
! to think that yesterday we were happy, and thatthis evil thing had not befallen us! And now I can never go abroadagain without thinking that the folk are saying: 'There goes the sisterof the man who was killed while trying to carry off the beautiful MissPleydell.'"
No comfort can be found for one who sits expectant of a brothers death.I bade poor Nancy keep up her heart and hope for the best.
The fever increased during the day, we heard, and the delirium. Westirred not out of the house save for morning prayers, sending Cicelyfrom time to time to ask the news. And all the company gatheredtogether on the Terrace, not to talk scandal or tell idle stories ofeach other, but to whisper that Will Levett was certainly dying, andthat it would go hard with Lord Chudleigh, who would without doubt betried for murder, the two grooms protesting stoutly that their masterhad not struck a blow.
In the evening Sir Robert Levett came to our lodging. He was heavilyafflicted with the prospect of losing his only son, albeit not a son ofwhom a parent could be proud. Yet a child cannot be replaced, and theline of the Levetts would be extinguished.
"My dear," he said, "I come to say a thing which has been greatly on mymind. My son was run through by Lord Chudleigh. Tell me, first, whatthere is between you and my lord? Doth he propose to marry you?"
"Dear sir," I replied, "Lord Chudleigh has offered me his hand."
"And you have taken it?"
"Unworthy as I am, dear sir, I have promised, should certain obstaclesbe removed, to marry him."
"His sword has caused my Will's death. Yet the act was done in defenceof the woman he loved, the woman whom Will designed to ruin----"
"And in self-defence as well. Had he not drawn, Will would have beatenout his brains."
"Tell him, from Will's father, my dear, that I forgive him. Let notsuch a homicide dwell upon his conscience. Where is he?"
"He has gone away with Sir Miles Lackington to await the finding of aninquest, if----"
"Tell him that I will not sanction any proceedings, and if there is tobe an inquest my evidence shall be, though it bring my grey hairs withsorrow to the grave, that my lord is innocent, and drew his sword todefend his own life."
He left me--poor man!--to return to the sick bedside.
He had been gone but a short time when a post-boy rode to the door,blowing a horn. It was a special messenger, who had ridden from TempleBar with a letter from Sir Miles.
"Sweet Kitty," wrote the Baronet, "I write this to tell thee that we have taken up quarters in London. I have bestowed my lord in certain lodgings, which you know, above the room where once I lay."
Heavens! my lord was in my own old lodging beside the Fleet Market.
"He is downhearted, thinking of the life he has taken. I tell him that he should think no more of running through such a madman in defence of his own life than of killing a pig. Pig, and worse than pig, was the creature who dared to carry off the lovely Kitty. To think that such a rustic clown should be brother of pretty Nancy! I have sent to my lord's lodging an agreeable dinner and a bottle of good wine, with which I hope my lord will comfort his heart. Meantime, they know not, in the house, the rank and quality of their guest. I suppose the fellow is dead by this time. If there is an inquest, I shall attend to give my evidence, and the verdict can be none other than justifiable homicide or even _felo-de-se_, for if ever man rushed upon his death it was Will Levett. I have also sent him paper and pens with which to write to you, and some books and a pack of cards. Here is enough to make a lonely man happy. If he wants more he can look out of the window and see the porters and fishwives of the market fight, which was a spectacle daily delighted me for two years and more. The doctor is well. I have informed him privately of the circumstances of the case, and Lord Chudleigh's arrival. He seemed pleased, but I took the liberty of warning him against betraying to my lord a relationship, the knowledge of which might be prejudicial to your interests."
Prejudicial to my interests!
Sir Miles was in league, with me, to hide this thing from a man whobelieved, like Solomon Stallabras, that I was all truth and goodness.
I had borne so much from this wicked concealment that I was resolvedto bear it no longer. I said to myself, almost in the words of thePrayer-book: "I will arise and go unto my lord. I will say, Forgive me,for thus and thus have I done, and so am I guilty."
Oh, my noble lord! Oh, great heart and true! what am I, wicked anddeceitful woman, that I should hope to keep thy love? Let it go; tellme that you can never love again one who has played this wicked part;let hatred and loathing take the place of love; let all go, and leaveme a despairing wretch--so that I have confessed my sin and humbledmyself even to the ground before him whom I have so deeply wronged.
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