Barnaby Rudge: A Tale of the Riots of 'Eighty

by Charles Dickens

  Chapter 14

  Joe Willet rode leisurely along in his desponding mood, picturing thelocksmith's daughter going down long country-dances, and poussettingdreadfully with bold strangers--which was almost too much to bear--whenhe heard the tramp of a horse's feet behind him, and looking back, sawa well-mounted gentleman advancing at a smart canter. As this riderpassed, he checked his steed, and called him of the Maypole by his name.Joe set spurs to the grey mare, and was at his side directly.

  'I thought it was you, sir,' he said, touching his hat. 'A fair evening,sir. Glad to see you out of doors again.'

  The gentleman smiled and nodded. 'What gay doings have been going onto-day, Joe? Is she as pretty as ever? Nay, don't blush, man.'

  'If I coloured at all, Mr Edward,' said Joe, 'which I didn't know I did,it was to think I should have been such a fool as ever to have any hopeof her. She's as far out of my reach as--as Heaven is.'

  'Well, Joe, I hope that's not altogether beyond it,' said Edward,good-humouredly. 'Eh?'

  'Ah!' sighed Joe. 'It's all very fine talking, sir. Proverbs are easilymade in cold blood. But it can't be helped. Are you bound for our house,sir?'

  'Yes. As I am not quite strong yet, I shall stay there to-night, andride home coolly in the morning.'

  'If you're in no particular hurry,' said Joe after a short silence, 'andwill bear with the pace of this poor jade, I shall be glad to ride onwith you to the Warren, sir, and hold your horse when you dismount.It'll save you having to walk from the Maypole, there and back again. Ican spare the time well, sir, for I am too soon.'

  'And so am I,' returned Edward, 'though I was unconsciously riding fastjust now, in compliment I suppose to the pace of my thoughts, which weretravelling post. We will keep together, Joe, willingly, and be as goodcompany as may be. And cheer up, cheer up, think of the locksmith'sdaughter with a stout heart, and you shall win her yet.'

  Joe shook his head; but there was something so cheery in the buoyanthopeful manner of this speech, that his spirits rose under itsinfluence, and communicated as it would seem some new impulse even tothe grey mare, who, breaking from her sober amble into a gentle trot,emulated the pace of Edward Chester's horse, and appeared to flatterherself that he was doing his very best.

  It was a fine dry night, and the light of a young moon, which was thenjust rising, shed around that peace and tranquillity which gives toevening time its most delicious charm. The lengthened shadows of thetrees, softened as if reflected in still water, threw their carpet onthe path the travellers pursued, and the light wind stirred yet moresoftly than before, as though it were soothing Nature in her sleep. Bylittle and little they ceased talking, and rode on side by side in apleasant silence.

  'The Maypole lights are brilliant to-night,' said Edward, as they rodealong the lane from which, while the intervening trees were bare ofleaves, that hostelry was visible.

  'Brilliant indeed, sir,' returned Joe, rising in his stirrups to geta better view. 'Lights in the large room, and a fire glimmering in thebest bedchamber? Why, what company can this be for, I wonder!'

  'Some benighted horseman wending towards London, and deterred fromgoing on to-night by the marvellous tales of my friend the highwayman, Isuppose,' said Edward.

  'He must be a horseman of good quality to have such accommodations. Yourbed too, sir--!'

  'No matter, Joe. Any other room will do for me. But come--there's ninestriking. We may push on.'

  They cantered forward at as brisk a pace as Joe's charger could attain,and presently stopped in the little copse where he had left her in themorning. Edward dismounted, gave his bridle to his companion, and walkedwith a light step towards the house.

  A female servant was waiting at a side gate in the garden-wall, andadmitted him without delay. He hurried along the terrace-walk, anddarted up a flight of broad steps leading into an old and gloomy hall,whose walls were ornamented with rusty suits of armour, antlers, weaponsof the chase, and suchlike garniture. Here he paused, but not long; foras he looked round, as if expecting the attendant to have followed, andwondering she had not done so, a lovely girl appeared, whose dark hairnext moment rested on his breast. Almost at the same instant a heavyhand was laid upon her arm, Edward felt himself thrust away, and MrHaredale stood between them.

  He regarded the young man sternly without removing his hat; withone hand clasped his niece, and with the other, in which he held hisriding-whip, motioned him towards the door. The young man drew himselfup, and returned his gaze.

  'This is well done of you, sir, to corrupt my servants, and enter myhouse unbidden and in secret, like a thief!' said Mr Haredale. 'Leaveit, sir, and return no more.'

  'Miss Haredale's presence,' returned the young man, 'and yourrelationship to her, give you a licence which, if you are a brave man,you will not abuse. You have compelled me to this course, and the faultis yours--not mine.'

  'It is neither generous, nor honourable, nor the act of a true man,sir,' retorted the other, 'to tamper with the affections of a weak,trusting girl, while you shrink, in your unworthiness, from her guardianand protector, and dare not meet the light of day. More than this I willnot say to you, save that I forbid you this house, and require you to begone.'

  'It is neither generous, nor honourable, nor the act of a true man toplay the spy,' said Edward. 'Your words imply dishonour, and I rejectthem with the scorn they merit.'

  'You will find,' said Mr Haredale, calmly, 'your trusty go-between inwaiting at the gate by which you entered. I have played no spy's part,sir. I chanced to see you pass the gate, and followed. You might haveheard me knocking for admission, had you been less swift of foot,or lingered in the garden. Please to withdraw. Your presence here isoffensive to me and distressful to my niece.' As he said these words,he passed his arm about the waist of the terrified and weeping girl, anddrew her closer to him; and though the habitual severity of his mannerwas scarcely changed, there was yet apparent in the action an air ofkindness and sympathy for her distress.

  'Mr Haredale,' said Edward, 'your arm encircles her on whom I have setmy every hope and thought, and to purchase one minute's happiness forwhom I would gladly lay down my life; this house is the casket thatholds the precious jewel of my existence. Your niece has plighted herfaith to me, and I have plighted mine to her. What have I done thatyou should hold me in this light esteem, and give me these discourteouswords?'

  'You have done that, sir,' answered Mr Haredale, 'which must be undone.You have tied a lover's-knot here which must be cut asunder. Take goodheed of what I say. Must. I cancel the bond between ye. I reject you,and all of your kith and kin--all the false, hollow, heartless stock.'

  'High words, sir,' said Edward, scornfully.

  'Words of purpose and meaning, as you will find,' replied the other.'Lay them to heart.'

  'Lay you then, these,' said Edward. 'Your cold and sullen temper, whichchills every breast about you, which turns affection into fear, andchanges duty into dread, has forced us on this secret course, repugnantto our nature and our wish, and far more foreign, sir, to us than you.I am not a false, a hollow, or a heartless man; the character is yours,who poorly venture on these injurious terms, against the truth, andunder the shelter whereof I reminded you just now. You shall not cancelthe bond between us. I will not abandon this pursuit. I rely upon yourniece's truth and honour, and set your influence at nought. I leave herwith a confidence in her pure faith, which you will never weaken, andwith no concern but that I do not leave her in some gentler care.'

  With that, he pressed her cold hand to his lips, and once moreencountering and returning Mr Haredale's steady look, withdrew.

  A few words to Joe as he mounted his horse sufficiently explained whathad passed, and renewed all that young gentleman's despondency withtenfold aggravation. They rode back to the Maypole without exchanging asyllable, and arrived at the door with heavy hearts.

  Old John, who had peeped from behind the red curtain as they rode upshouting for Hugh, was out directly, and said with great importance ashe he
ld the young man's stirrup,

  'He's comfortable in bed--the best bed. A thorough gentleman; thesmilingest, affablest gentleman I ever had to do with.'

  'Who, Willet?' said Edward carelessly, as he dismounted.

  'Your worthy father, sir,' replied John. 'Your honourable, venerablefather.'

  'What does he mean?' said Edward, looking with a mixture of alarm anddoubt, at Joe.

  'What DO you mean?' said Joe. 'Don't you see Mr Edward doesn'tunderstand, father?'

  'Why, didn't you know of it, sir?' said John, opening his eyes wide.'How very singular! Bless you, he's been here ever since noon to-day,and Mr Haredale has been having a long talk with him, and hasn't beengone an hour.'

  'My father, Willet!'

  'Yes, sir, he told me so--a handsome, slim, upright gentleman, ingreen-and-gold. In your old room up yonder, sir. No doubt you can go in,sir,' said John, walking backwards into the road and looking up at thewindow. 'He hasn't put out his candles yet, I see.'

  Edward glanced at the window also, and hastily murmuring that he hadchanged his mind--forgotten something--and must return to London,mounted his horse again and rode away; leaving the Willets, father andson, looking at each other in mute astonishment.