CHAPTER XXII.
It is a very unpleasant position indeed to be above your neck in thewater, with another man holding fast by your collar, especially if itbe by both hands. It may be a friend who has so got you, it may be anenemy; but the operation comes to pretty nearly the same thing in bothcases; and that the result is not at all an agreeable one, I say itboldly and without fear of contradiction; for, although drowning issaid to be accompanied by no real pain, and I have heard manyhalf-drowned persons declare that it is rather pleasant thanotherwise, yet that is only a part of the process, not the result;then again Sir Peter Laurie can witness, that there are multitudes ofpersons, who, after having taken one suffocating dip in Mother Thames,repeat the attempt perseveringly, as if they found it very delightfulindeed; but still I contend that they have not come to the end of thething, and, therefore, can give no real opinion. "To lie in coldobstruction and to rot," to become the prey of the lean, abhorredmonster death, to separate from the warm tenement in which our abodeon earth has been made, to part with the companionship of all thesenses and sensations, the thrills and feelings, which have been ourfriends, our guides, our monitors, our servants, our officers in thecourse of mortal existence--this is the result of that tight pressureupon the cravat or coat-collar which we shrink from, when, with ourhead under the water, we feel the fingers of friend or enemyapproaching too near the organs of respiration. If the gentlemangrasps our legs we can kick him off; if he seizes our hands we canoften shake him away; but the deadly pressure upon the chest and neck;the clinging, grasping energy of those small digits on the throat,when we find that, half a second more and life is gone, is perhaps asunpleasant a thing as often falls to the lot of mortal man to feel.
Now Ned Hayward, I have endeavoured to impress upon the reader's mind,was a brave, bold, determined fellow as ever lived. There was nodanger he would not have fronted, no fate he would not have risked fora good and worthy object. He was a good swimmer, too; but when after aheadlong plunge into the water he felt himself undermost in the fall,out of his depth, his feet entangled in a weed, and the fingers andthumbs of Captain Moreton tight upon his throat, he was seized with anirresistible propensity to knock him off by any means, even at therisk of losing his prisoner. The first method that suggested itselfwas a straightforward blow at his adversary, and that taking effectupon his chest was successful with a man half-drowned himself. Hisantagonist let go his hold, rose as fast as he could, dashed at theother bank, gained the ground and was off. Poor Ned Hayward, however,soon found that if he had freed himself from one enemy, he was stillin the power of another. It is a terrible thing that a strong,powerful man, instinct with every energy and quality of high animallife, and, moreover, having an immortal soul, to be kept or partedwith, should every now and then be completely at the mercy of a thin,pitiful, pulpy weed, which, to all appearances, might be broken orsmashed in a moment. But moments are very important things, and the_vis inerti?_ a tremendous power. The weed made no attempt to hold theyoung gentleman, it neither grasped his legs, nor clasped his knees,but it was carried by the current around the ankles of Ned Hayward,and there, somehow or other, it stuck fast, preventing him frommoving; in fact, it was like many a great politician (in the world'sopinion), who operate many great changes upon their neighbours by mere_vis inerti?_, waiting till the tide of circumstances brings them toaction, and then holding fast to a particular point till allopposition is drowned.
Such had well-nigh been the case with Ned Hayward; for what littlestrength he had left was nearly expended in the blow he gave toCaptain Moreton; and when he found that his feet were entangled in theweed which would not have snapped a single gut-line with a May-fly atthe end of it, his powers did not suffice to tear himself away. Thishistory, as far as he was concerned, seemed likely to come to a hastyconclusion, when suddenly he found a strong hand grasp his arm justbelow the shoulder, and give his whole frame a vehement impulsetowards the surface of the water. The next instant he saw, heard,breathed, once more; and before he had time to do either of thesethings above a second, he found his right elbow leaning on the bank,and Mr. Beauchamp, who was not very well aware whether he was dead,alive, or half-drowned, endeavouring to draw him up on the bank. Touse the words of the poet, in a very indecent episode of a very chasteand beautiful poem--
One stupid moment motionless he stood;
but the next puff of the right element which went into his lungsrecalled all his activity, and up he jumped on the bank with a springwhich astonished Beauchamp, made Isabella Slingsby draw back, andbrought a faint colour into Mary Clifford's cheek. The glow wasaccompanied by a smile, however, which showed that this proof of NedHayward's still active powers was not unpleasant to her.
The first thing the young officer did, however, was to shake Mr.Beauchamp warmly by the hand, exclaiming,
"Upon my life you were just in time--it was nearly over with me--Icould not have stood it half a minute longer. Every thing was turninggreen, and I know that's a bad sign."
The next thing was to pick up his fishing-rod and tackle, crying, ashe raised them from the ground,
"He has frightened away that big old trout; I should have had him inanother second; I may have to walk half an hour more before I findsuch another; I could see him eyeing the fly all ready for a rise."
"But who was the gentleman?"
"What was the quarrel about?"
"Why did you seize him?" demanded Isabella, Mary, and Beauchamp, alltogether.
Let the reader remark, that each framed his question differently.
"That is the man who fired the shot into the window last night,"replied Ned Hayward, looking curiously at the fly upon his hook; andtwo of his companions instantly turned their eyes in the directionwhich Captain Moreton had taken, with a look of alarm, as if theyfeared he would fire another shot from the bushes amongst which he haddisappeared. Beauchamp, for his part, cast down his eyes and saidnothing--not a word! Nay more; he shut his teeth close and drew hislips over them, as if he were afraid he should say something; andthen, after a moment's pause, he turned to Ned Hayward, saying,
"Had you not better give up this fishing, come up to the house andchange your clothes?"
"Oh dear no," cried Ned Hayward, "on no account whatever; I'll catchmy fish before twelve o'clock yet; and very likely have the veryfellow that our plunge scared away from here. Do you know, Beauchamp,it is sometimes not a bad plan to frighten a cunning old speckledgentleman like this, if you find that he is suspicious and won't bite.I have tried it often, and found it succeed very well. He gets into afuss, dashes up or down, does not know well where to stop, and then,out of mere irritation, bites at the first thing that is thrown in hisway. Come along and we shall see. He went down, I think, for I had aneye upon him till he darted off."
"But you are very wet, too, Mr. Beauchamp," said Isabella. "If CaptainHayward is too much of an old campaigner to change his clothes, I donot see why you should neglect to do so."
"For the best reason in the world, my dear Miss Slingsby," repliedBeauchamp, "because I have no clothes here with which to change theseI have on."
"But there are plenty at the house," replied Isabella, eagerly.
"But I am afraid, they would not fit," replied Beauchamp, laughing; "Iam in no fear, however; for I am as old a campaigner as CaptainHayward."
"Let us move about, at all events," said Mary Clifford; and followingNed Hayward down the stream, they watched his progress, as he, intentapparently upon nothing but his sport, went flogging the water, to seewhat he could obtain. Three or four very large trout, skilfullyhooked, artistically played, and successfully landed, soon repaid hislabour; but Ned Hayward was not yet satisfied, but, at length, hepaused abruptly, and held up his finger to the others as a sign not toapproach too near. He was within about twenty yards of a spot wherethe stream, taking a slight bend, entered into sort of pass betweentwo low copses, one on either hand, composed of thin and featherytrees, the leaves of which, slightly agitated by the wind, cast avarying a
nd uncertain light and shade upon the water. The river, wherehe stood, was quite smooth; but ten steps further it fell over two orthree small plates of rock, which scattered and disturbed it, as itran, leaving a bubbling rapid beyond, and then a deep, but ripplingpool, with two or three sharp whirls in it, just where the shadows ofthe leaves were dancing on the waters. Ned Hayward deliberately tookthe fly off the line and put on another, fixing his eye, from time totime, on a particular spot in the pool beyond. He then threw his lineon the side of the rapid next to him, let the fly float down with atremulous motion, kept it playing up and down on the surface of thefoam, with a smile upon his lips, then suffered it to be carriedrapidly on into the bubbling pool, as if carried away by the force ofthe water, and held it for a moment quivering there; the next momenthe drew it sharply towards him, but not far. There was an instant rushin the stream, and a sharp snap, which you might almost hear. Theslightest possible stroke of the rod was given, and then the wheel ranrapidly off, while the patriarch of the stream dashed away with thehook in his jaws. The instant he paused, he was wound up and drawngently along, and then he dashed away again, floundered and splashed,and struck the shallow waters with his tail, till, at length,exhausted and half-drowned, he was drawn gradually up to the rocks;and Ned Hayward, wading in, landed him safely on the shore.
"This is the game of life, Miss Clifford," he said, as he put thetrout of more than three pounds' weight into the basket. "Renderedcautious and prudent by some sad experiences, we shrink from everything that seems too easy of attainment, then, when we find somethingthat Fate's cunning hand plays before our eyes as if to be withdrawnin a moment, we watch it with suspicious but greedy eagerness, till wethink a moment more will lose it for ever, then dart at it blindly,and feel the hook in our jaws."
Mary Clifford smiled, and then looked grave; and Isabella laughed,exclaiming,
"The moral of fly-fishing! And a good lesson, I suppose, you mean forall over-cautious mammas--or did you mean it was a part of your ownhistory? Captain Hayward, retrospective and prophetic, or was it ageneral disquisition upon man?"
"I am afraid man is the trout," said Beauchamp; "and not in oneparticular pursuit, but all: love, interest, ambition, every onealike. His course and end are generally the same."
"That speech of yours, fair lady, was so like a woman," said NedHayward, turning to Miss Slingsby; "if it were not that my hands werewet, I would presume upon knowing you as a child, and give you a goodshake. I thought you had been brought up enough with men, to know thatthey are not always thinking of love and matrimony. You women have butone paramount idea, as to this life's concerns I mean, and you neverhear any thing without referring it to that. However, after all,perhaps, it is natural:
"Man's love is of man's life a thing apart. 'Tis woman's whole existence."
"Too sad a truth," replied Mary Clifford, thoughtfully; "perhaps it isof too little importance in man's eyes; of too much in woman's."
"And yet how terribly she sometimes trifles with it," said Beauchamp,in a still gloomier tone.
"Perhaps, you think, she trifles with every thing, Mr. Beauchamp,"rejoined Isabella; "but men know so little of women, and see so littleof women as they really are, that they judge the many from the few:and we must forgive them; nevertheless, even if it be true that theydo trifle with it, it is not the least proof that they do not feel it.All beings are fond of sporting with what is bright and dangerous: themoth round the candle, the child with the penknife, and man withambition."
"All mankind," said Ned Hayward, "men and women alike, get merrilyfamiliar with that which is frequently presented to their thoughts.Look at the undertaker, or the sexton, how he jests with his fatcorpse, and only screws his face into a grim look when he has theworld's eye upon him; then jumps upon the hearse and canters back, toget drunk and joyous at the next public-house."
"Hush! hush! Captain Hayward," cried Isabella, "I declare your figuresof speech are too horrible; we will have no more of such sadconversation; can we not talk of something more pleasant as we goback?"
"I don't know," said Ned Hayward, "I am in a moralising mood thismorning."
And as Isabella and Mr. Beauchamp walked on a little in advance topass the narrow path, which only admitted two abreast, he continued ina somewhat lower tone, saying to Mary Clifford,
"I cannot get my spirits up this morning. The dangerous circumstancesof my good old friend, Sir John, vex me much. Have you spoken to yourcousin about them? She seems wonderfully gay."
"I have," answered Miss Clifford; "but it would need a heavy weight,Captain Hayward, to sink her light heart. She promised to mention thematter to Mr. Beauchamp, too; but I rather imagine from what hasoccurred, that she had not done it."
"Oh, she has done it, depend upon it," replied the young officer; "andthat is what makes her so gay. But I must speak with Beauchamp myself,and make the matter sure."
In the meantime, Beauchamp had walked on with Isabella; and therecould be little or no doubt, in the minds of any one who came behindthem, that he was making love. Not that they heard a word that wassaid, no, not a single syllable, but there is a peculiar gestureassociated with the making of love, by a gentleman at least, whichdistinguishes it from every other process. Beauchamp, as we havedescribed him, was above the middle height; but Isabella was not belowit; and there was not the slightest occasion for him to bend down hishead, in order that she might hear him distinctly, unless he hadsomething to say which he did not wish others to hear likewise. He didbend down his head, however, and said what he had to say in a very lowtone; and, although he did not stare her rudely in the face, yet fromtime to time he looked into her eyes, as if he thought them thecrystal windows of the heart. Isabella, on her side, did not bend herhead; she held it a little on one side, indeed, so as in the leastperceptible degree to turn the fine small ear to the words that werepoured into it; generally, however, she looked down, with the longfringes veiling the violet of her eyes, though from time to time sheraised them at something that he said; and when her look met his, theyfell again. They had to cross over a little brook, and Beauchamp tookher hand to help her over. He drew it through his arm when he haddone, and there it rested for the remainder of the walk.
Involuntarily, and almost unconsciously as they marked this, MaryClifford and Captain Hayward turned to each other with a smile. Theimpulse with each was to see if the other had remarked it--a verysimple impulse--but when their looks met, it made a more compoundphrase; and the anagram of the heart might read thus:
"May we not as well make love too?"
It was a sore temptation; but the next instant Ned Hayward'scountenance became exceedingly grave, and the warm healthy glow in hischeek grew a shade paler.
If there was a struggle in his breast, it was brought to an end inabout five minutes; for, just as they were climbing the side of thehill again, they were met by joyous old Sir John Slingsby, whose wholeface and air generally bore with it an emanation of cheerful content,which is usually supposed, but, alas! mistakenly to be the peculiarportion of the good and wise. Thoughtlessness, temperament, habit,often possess that which is the coveted possession of wisdom andvirtue; and often in this world the sunshine of the heart spreads overthe pathway of him who neither sees his own misfortunes lying beforehim, nor thinks of the sorrows of others scattered around.
"Ah, boys and girls, boys and girls!" cried the baronet, laughing,"whither have you wandered so long? I have done a world of businesssince you have been gone, thank Heaven; and, thank Heaven, have left aworld undone; so I shall never, like Alexander, that maudling,drunken, rattle-pate of antiquity, have to weep for new worlds toconquer. Ned Hayward, Ned Hayward, I have a quarrel with you. Absentfrom evening drill and morning parade without leave! We will have youtried by a court-martial, boy; but what news have you brought? did youovertake the enemy? or was he too much for you? whither is heretreated? and last, though not least, who and what is he?"
"On my life, Sir John, I do not know who he is," answered Ned Hayward."We ha
ve had two engagements, in which, I am fain to confess, he hashad the advantage, and has retreated in good order both times. I shallcatch him yet, however; but at present I have not time to give fullinformation; for--"
"Not time, not time!" cried the baronet; "what the devil have you donewith all your time, not to have half an hour to spare to your oldcolonel?"
"In the first place, my dear Sir, I am wet," replied the youngofficer, "for I have been in the water, and must change my clothes;but I have won my bet, however; I promised to catch the best trout inthe river before noon; and there he is; match him if you can."
"Before noon," exclaimed Sir John Slingsby, taking out his watch;"twenty minutes past twelve, by Jove!"
"Ay, but he has been caught twenty minutes," said Ned Hayward, "I willappeal to all persons present."
"Well, granted, granted," exclaimed the baronet, "the bet's won, thebet's won. You shall change your clothes, make yourself look like agentleman, and then tell the reverend company your story."
"Impossible," answered Ned Hayward, shaking his head; "I have fortythings to do."
"Forty things!" cried Sir John; "why I have finished two hundred andfifty, upon a moderate computation, within an hour and ten minutes."
"Ah, my dear Sir," said the young gentleman, "but I have got to changemy clothes, write a letter, speak two words to Beauchamp, talk for aquarter of an hour to Ste. Gimlet about his boy's education, pack upsome clothes, and be down at Tarningham in time for the coach toLondon, as well as to induce your butler to give me some luncheon anda glass of the best old sherry in your cellar."
"Pack up some clothes!--coach to London!" cried Sir John Slingsby, ina more serious tone than he had yet used; "the boy is mad; his head isturned! Ned Hayward, Ned Hayward, what the devil do you mean, NedHayward?"
"Simply, my dear Sir John, that some business of importance calls meto London immediately," rejoined his young friend; "but I shall bedown again to-morrow, or the next day at the furthest; and, in themeantime, I leave you horse and gun, fishing-tackle and appurtenances,which I give you free leave and licence to confiscate if I do not keepmy word."
"Well, well!" exclaimed the baronet, "go along, change your clothes,and come and get some luncheon. I always thought you a great donkey,Ned, and now I think so more than ever, when I see you quitcomfortable quarters for a dull stagecoach. Go along, I say, goalong; there's the door, which is always better said on the outside ofa house than in the in."
"Thank you, Sir John; but I must just speak a word with Beauchampfirst," replied Captain Hayward; and taking his new friend's arm, hedrew him a little on one side, while the baronet and the two ladiesentered the house.
"I have got a favour to ask you, Beauchamp," said Captain Hayward:"matters have got into a complication between myself and this youngWittingham, which may require a pistol-shot to unravel it. The fellow,who fired through the window last night, certainly rode his horse; Iwalked straight into his room, thinking I might find the man there. Itold him the occasion of my coming; he was insolent; and I informedhim civilly what I thought of him; he demanded satisfaction; and Ireplied, that if there was a gentleman in the county that could befound to act as his friend, I would do him the honour of meeting him.Business, which one of the two ladies will give you a hint of, if theyhave not done so already, calls me immediately to London. I havewritten to tell him so, but that I shall be down the day afterto-morrow. In the meantime, I shall tell the people at the White Hart,if any one comes from him, to refer them to you. Arrange the affair,therefore, for me, should such be the case, and, remember, theearliest possible time and the quietest possible manner--I'll bring mypistols--but we must break off, here comes Sir John Slingsby again;not a word to him on any account, there's a good fellow; and now letus talk of something else."