“Why, zounds, you don’t say, Peter!” exclaimed Nicholas, laughing; “he’ll never be able to manage him. Flint’s the wickedest and most wilful little brute I ever knew. We shall have Master Potts run away with, or thrown into a moss-pit. Better give him something quieter.”
“It’s Sir Roaph’s orders,” replied Peter, “an ey darna disobey ‘em. Boh Flint’s far steadier than when yo seed him last, squoire. Ey dar say he’ll carry Mester Potts weel enough, if he dusna mislest him.”
“You think nothing of the sort, Peter,” said Nicholas. “You expect to see the little gentleman fly over the pony’s head, and perhaps break his own at starting. But if Sir Ralph has ordered it, he must abide by the consequences. I sha’n’t interfere further. How goes on the young colt you were breaking in? You should take care to show him the saddle in the manger, let him smell it, and jingle the stirrups in his ears, before you put it on his back. Better ground for his first lessons could not be desired than the field below the grange, near the Calder. Sir Ralph was saying yesterday, that the roan mare had pricked her foot. You must wash the sore well with white wine and salt, rub it with the ointment the farriers call ægyptiacum, and then put upon it a hot plaster compounded of flax hards, turpentine, oil and wax, bathing the top of the hoof with bole armeniac and vinegar. This is the best and quickest remedy. And recollect, Peter, that for a new strain, vinegar, bole armeniac, whites of eggs, and bean-flour, make the best salve. How goes on Sir Ralph’s black charger, Dragon? A brave horse that, Peter, and the only one in your master’s whole stud to compare with my Robin! But Dragon, though of high courage and great swiftness, has not the strength and endurance of Robin — neither can he leap so well. Why, Robin would almost clear the Calder, Peter, and makes nothing of Smithies Brook, near Downham, and you know how wide that stream is. I once tried him at the Ribble, at a narrow point, and if horse could have done it, he would — but it was too much to expect.”
“A great deal, ey should say, squoire,” replied the groom, opening his eyes to their widest extent. “Whoy, th’ Ribble, where yo speak on, mun be twenty yards across, if it be an inch; and no nag os ever wur bred could clear that, onless a witch wur on his back.”
“Don’t allude to witches, Peter,” said Nicholas. “I’ve had enough of them. But to come back to our steeds. Colour is matter of taste, and a man must please his own eye with bay or grey, chestnut, sorrel, or black; but dun is my fancy. A good horse, Peter, should be clean-limbed, short-jointed, strong-hoofed, out-ribbed, broad-chested, deep-necked, loose-throttled, thin-crested, lean-headed, full-eyed, with wide nostrils. A horse with half these points would not be wrong, and Robin has them all.”
“So he has, sure enough, squoire,” replied Peter, regarding the animal with an approving eye, as Nicholas enumerated his merits. “Boh, if ey might choose betwixt him an yunk Mester Ruchot Assheton’s grey gelding, Merlin, ey knoas which ey’d tak.”
“Robin, of course,” said Nicholas.
“Nah, squoire, it should be t’other,” replied the groom.
“You’re no judge of a horse, Peter,” rejoined Nicholas, shrugging his shoulders.
“May be not,” said the groom, “boh ey’m bound to speak truth. An see! Tum Lomax is bringin’ out Merlin. We con put th’ two nags soide by soide, if yo choose.”
“They shall be put side by side in the field, Peter — that’s the way to test their respective merit,” returned Nicholas, “and they won’t remain long together, I’ll warrant you. I offered to make a match for twenty pieces with Master Richard, but he declined the offer. Harkee, Peter, break an egg in Robin’s mouth before you put on his bridle. It strengthens the wind, and adds to a horse’s power of endurance. You understand?”
“Parfitly, squoire,” replied the groom. “By th’ mess! that’s a secret worth knoain’. Onny more orders?”
“No,” replied Nicholas. “We shall set out in an hour — or it may be sooner.”
“Aw shan be ready,” said Peter. And he added to himself, as Nicholas moved away, “Ey’st tak care Tum Lomax gies an egg to Merlin, an that’ll may aw fair, if they chance to try their osses’ mettle.”
As Nicholas returned to the house, he perceived to his dismay Sir Ralph and Parson Dewhurst standing upon the steps; and convinced, from their grave looks, that they were prepared to lecture him, he endeavoured to nerve himself for the infliction.
“Two to one are awkward odds,” said the squire to himself, “especially when they have the ‘vantage ground. But I must face them, and make the best fight circumstances will allow. I shall never be able to explain that mad dance with Isole de Heton. No one but Dick will believe me, and the chances are he will not support my story. But I must put on an air of penitence, and sooth to say, in my present state, it is not very difficult to assume.”
Thus pondering, with slow step, affectedly humble demeanour, and surprisingly-lengthened visage, he approached the pair who were waiting for him, and regarding him with severe looks.
Thinking it the best plan to open the fire himself, Nicholas saluted them, and said —
“Give you good-day, Sir Ralph, and you too, worthy Master Dewhurst. I scarcely expected to see you so early astir, good sirs; but the morning is too beautiful to allow us to be sluggards. For my own part I have been awake for hours, and have passed the time wholly in self-reproaches for my folly and sinfulness last night, as well as in forming resolutions for self-amendment, and better governance in future.”
“I hope you will adhere to those resolutions, then, Nicholas,” rejoined Sir Ralph, sternly; “for change of conduct is absolutely necessary, if you would maintain your character as a gentleman. I can make allowance for high animal spirits, and can excuse some licence, though I do not approve of it; But I will not permit decorum to be outraged in my house, and suffer so ill an example to be set to my tenantry.”
“Fortunately I was not present at the exhibition,” said Dewhurst; “but I am told you conducted yourself like one possessed, and committed such freaks as are rarely, if ever, acted by a rational being.”
“I can offer no defence, worthy sir, and you my respected relative,” returned Nicholas, with a contrite air; “neither can you reprove me more strongly than I deserve, nor than I upbraid myself. I allowed myself to be overcome by wine, and in that condition was undoubtedly guilty of follies I must ever regret.”
“Amongst others, I believe you stood upon your head,” remarked Dewhurst.
“I am not aware of the circumstance, reverend sir,” replied Nicholas, with difficulty repressing a smile; “but as I certainly lost my head, I may have stood upon it unconsciously. But I do recollect enough to make me heartily ashamed of myself, and determine to avoid all such excesses in future.”
“In that case, sir,” rejoined Dewhurst, “the occurrences of last night, though sufficiently discreditable to you, will not be without profit; for I have observed to my infinite regret, that you are apt to indulge in immoderate potations, and when under their influence to lose due command of yourself, and commit follies which your sober reason must condemn. At such times I scarcely recognise you. You speak with unbecoming levity, and even allow oaths to escape your lips.”
“It is too true, reverend sir,” said Nicholas; “but, zounds! — a plague upon my tongue — it is an unruly member. Forgive me, good sir, but my brain is a little confused.”
“I do not wonder, from the grievous assaults made upon it last night, Nicholas,” observed Sir Ralph. “Perhaps you are not aware that your crowning act was whisking wildly round the room by yourself, like a frantic dervish.”
“I was dancing with Isole de Heton,” said Nicholas.
“With whom?” inquired Dewhurst, in surprise.
“With a wicked votaress, who has been dead nearly a couple of centuries,” interposed Sir Ralph; “and who, by her sinful life, merited the punishment she is said to have incurred. This delusion shows how dreadfully intoxicated you were, Nicholas. For the time you had quite lost your reason.”
/> “I am sober enough now, at all events,” rejoined Nicholas; “and I am convinced that Isole did dance with me, nor will any arguments reason me out of that belief.”
“I am sorry to hear you say so, Nicholas,” returned Sir Ralph. “That you were under the impression at the time I can easily understand; but that you should persist in such a senseless and wicked notion is more than I can comprehend.”
“I saw her with my own eyes as plainly as I see you, Sir Ralph,” replied Nicholas, warmly; “that I declare upon my honour and conscience, and I also felt the pressure of her arms. Whether it may not have been the Fiend in her likeness I will not take upon me to declare — and indeed I have some misgivings on the subject; but that a beautiful creature, exactly resembling the votaress, danced with me, I will ever maintain.”
“If so, she was invisible to others, for I beheld her not,” said Sir Ralph; “and, though I cannot yield credence to your explanation, yet, granting it to be correct, I do not see how it mends your case.”
“On the contrary, it only proves that Master Nicholas yielded to the snares of Satan,” said Dewhurst, shaking his head. “I would recommend you long fasting and frequent prayer, my good sir, and I shall prepare a lecture for your special edification, which I will propound to you on your return to Downham, and, if it fails in effect, I will persevere with other godly discourses.”
“With your aid, I trust to be set free, reverend sir,” returned Nicholas; “but, as I have already passed two or three hours in prayer, I hope they may stand me in lieu of any present fasting, and induce you to omit the article of penance, or postpone it to some future occasion, when I may be better able to perform it; for I am just now particularly hungry, and am always better able to resist temptation with a full stomach than an empty one. As I find it displeasing to Sir Ralph, I will not insist upon my visionary partner in the dance, at least until I am better able to substantiate the fact; and I shall listen to your lectures, worthy sir, with great delight, and, I doubt not, with equal benefit; but in the meantime, as carnal wants must be supplied, and mundane matters attended to, I propose, with our excellent host’s permission, that we proceed to breakfast.”
Sir Ralph made no answer, but ascended the steps, and was followed by Dewhurst, heaving a deep sigh, and turning up the whites of his eyes, and by Nicholas, who felt his bosom eased of half its load, and secretly congratulated himself upon getting out of the scrape so easily.
In the hall they found Richard Assheton habited in a riding-dress, booted, spurred, and in all respects prepared for the expedition. There were such evident traces of anxiety and suffering about him, that Sir Ralph questioned him as to the cause, and Richard replied that he had passed a most restless night. He did not add, that he had been made acquainted by Adam Whitworth with the midnight visit of the two girls to the conventual church, because he was well aware Sir Ralph would be greatly displeased by the circumstance, and because Mistress Nutter had expressed a wish that it should be kept secret. Sir Ralph, however, saw there was more upon his young relative’s mind than he chose to confess, but he did not urge any further admission into his confidence.
Meantime, the party had been increased by the arrival of Master Potts, who was likewise equipped for the ride. The hour was too early, it might be, for him, or he had not rested well like Richard, or had been troubled with bad dreams, but certainly he did not look very well, or in very good-humour. He had slept at the Abbey, having been accommodated with a bed after the sudden seizure which he attributed to the instrumentality of Mistress Nutter. The little attorney bowed obsequiously to Sir Ralph, who returned his salutation very stiffly, nor was he much better received by the rest of the company.
At a sign from Sir Ralph, his guests then knelt down, and a prayer was uttered by the divine — or rather a discourse, for it partook more of the latter character than the former. In the course of it he took occasion to paint in strong colours the terrible consequences of intemperance, and Nicholas was obliged to endure a well-merited lecture of half an hour’s duration. But even Parson Dewhurst could not hold out for ever, and, to the relief of all his hearers, he at length brought this discourse to a close.
Breakfast at this period was a much more substantial affair than a modern morning repast, and differed little from dinner or supper, except in respect to quantity. On the present occasion, there were carbonadoes of fish and fowl, a cold chine, a huge pasty, a capon, neat’s tongues, sausages, botargos, and other matters as provocative of thirst as sufficing to the appetite. Nicholas set to work bravely. Broiled trout, steaks, and a huge slice of venison pasty, disappeared quickly before him, and he was not quite so sparing of the ale as seemed consistent with his previously-expressed resolutions of temperance. In vain Parson Dewhurst filled a goblet with water, and looked significantly at him. He would not take the hint, and turned a deaf ear to the admonitory cough of Sir Ralph. He had little help from the others, for Richard ate sparingly, and Master Potts made a very poor figure beside him. At length, having cleared his plate, emptied his cup, and wiped his lips, the squire arose, and said he must bid adieu to his wife, and should then be ready to attend them.
While he quitted the hall for this purpose, Mistress Nutter entered it. She looked paler than ever, and her eyes seemed larger, darker, and brighter. Nicholas shuddered slightly as she approached, and even Potts felt a thrill of apprehension pass through his frame. He scarcely, indeed, ventured a look at her, for he dreaded her mysterious power, and feared she could fathom the designs he secretly entertained against her. But she took no notice whatever of him. Acknowledging Sir Ralph’s salutation, she motioned Richard to follow her to the further end of the room.
“Your sister is very ill, Richard,” she said, as the young man attended her, “feverish, and almost light-headed. Adam Whitworth has told you, I know, that she was imprudent enough, in company with Alizon, to visit the ruins of the conventual church late last night, and she there sustained some fright, which has produced a great shock upon her system. When found, she was fainting, and though I have taken every care of her, she still continues much excited, and rambles strangely. You will be surprised as well as grieved when I tell you, that she charges Alizon with having bewitched her.”
“How, madam!” cried Richard. “Alizon bewitch her! It is impossible.”
“You are right, Richard,” replied Mistress Nutter; “the thing is impossible; but the accusation will find easy credence among the superstitious household here, and may be highly prejudicial, if not fatal to poor Alizon. It is most unlucky she should have gone out in this way, for the circumstance cannot be explained, and in itself serves to throw suspicion upon her.”
“I must see Dorothy before I go,” said Richard; “perhaps I may be able to soothe her.”
“It was for that end I came hither,” replied Mistress Nutter; “but I thought it well you should be prepared. Now come with me.”
Upon this they left the hall together, and proceeded to the abbot’s chamber, where Dorothy was lodged. Richard was greatly shocked at the sight of his sister, so utterly changed was she from the blithe being of yesterday — then so full of health and happiness. Her cheeks burnt with fever, her eyes were unnaturally bright, and her fair hair hung about her face in disorder. She kept fast hold of Alizon, who stood beside her.
“Ah, Richard!” she cried on seeing him, “I am glad you are come. You will persuade this girl to restore me to reason — to free me from the terrors that beset me. She can do so if she will.”
“Calm yourself, dear sister,” said Richard, gently endeavouring to free Alizon from her grasp.
“No, do not take her from me,” said Dorothy, wildly; “I am better when she is near me — much better. My brow does not throb so violently, and my limbs are not twisted so painfully. Do you know what ails me, Richard?”
“You have caught cold from wandering out indiscreetly last night,” said Richard.
“I am bewitched!” rejoined Dorothy, in tones that pierced her brother’s brain—
“bewitched by Alizon Device — by your love — ha! ha! She wishes to kill me, Richard, because she thinks I am in her way. But you will not let her do it.”
“You are mistaken, dear Dorothy. She means you no harm,” said Richard.
“Heaven knows how much I grieve for her, and how fondly I love her!” exclaimed Alizon, tearfully.
“It is false!” cried Dorothy. “She will tell a different tale when you are gone. She is a witch, and you shall never marry her, Richard — never! — never!”
Mistress Nutter, who stood at a little distance, anxiously observing what was passing, waved her hand several times towards the sufferer, but without effect.
“I have no influence over her,” she muttered. “She is really bewitched. I must find other means to quieten her.”
Though both greatly distressed, Alizon and Richard redoubled their attentions to the poor sufferer. For a few moments she remained quiet, but with her eyes constantly fixed on Alizon, and then said, quickly and fiercely, “I have been told, if you scratch one who has bewitched you till you draw blood, you will be cured. I will plunge my nails in her flesh.”
“I will not oppose you,” replied Alizon, gently; “tear my flesh if you will. You should have my life’s blood if it would cure you; but if the success of the experiment depends on my having bewitched you, it will assuredly fail.”
“This is dreadful,” interposed Richard. “Leave her, Alizon, I entreat of you. She will do you an injury.”
“I care not,” replied the young maid. “I will stay by her till she voluntarily releases me.”
The almost tigress fury with which Dorothy had seized upon the unresisting girl here suddenly deserted her, and, sobbing hysterically, she fell upon her neck. Oh, with what delight Alizon pressed her to her bosom!
“Dorothy, dear Dorothy!” she cried.
“Alizon, dear Alizon!” responded Dorothy. “Oh! how could I suspect you of any ill design against me!”
The Works of William Harrison Ainsworth Page 396
