CHAPTER XXVIII.
Tarningham Park was exceedingly quiet; for Sir John Slingsby was outat dinner some five miles off, and his merry activity being removed,every living thing seemed to think itself entitled to take somerepose. Mrs. Clifford, who had been far from well for several days,and had not quitted her room during the whole morning, had gone tobed, Mary and Isabella were conversing quietly--perhaps sadly--in thedrawing-room, the butler snored in the pantry, the ladies' maids andfootmen were enjoying a temporary calm in their several spheres, andcook, scullions, and housemaids were all taxing their energies to donothing with the most meritorious perseverance. Even the hares hoppedmore deliberately upon the lawns, and the cock-pheasants strutted withmore tranquil grandeur. Every one seemed to know that Sir JohnSlingsby was absent, and that there was no need to laugh, or talk, ordance, or sing, or eat, or drink, more than was agreeable. The veryair seemed to participate in the general feeling, for, whereas it hadbeen somewhat boisterous and keen during the day, it sunk into a calm,heavy, chilly sleep towards night, and the leaves rested motionlessupon the trees, as if weary of battling with the wind.
"We will have a fire, Mary," said Isabella; "though it be summer inthe calendar, it is winter in the field, and I do not see why weshould regulate our comfort by the almanac. Papa will not be home tilltwelve, and though he will be warm enough, I dare say, that will donothing for us."
As she spoke she rose to ring the bell; but at the same moment anotherbell rang, being that of the chief entrance, and both Miss Slingsbyand her cousin looked aghast at the idea of a visitor. Some timeelapsed before their apprehensions were either confirmed or removed;for there was a good deal of talking at the glass-door; but at firstthe servant did not choose to come in with any explanation. At length,however, a footman appeared in very white stockings and lacedknee-bands, saying, with a grin, "If you please, Ma'am, there is littleBilly Lamb at the door wishes to see you. He asked for Sir John first.I told him he couldn't, for you were engaged; but he said he was sureyou would, and teased me just to tell you he was here."
"Billy Lamb!" said Isabella. "Who is that?--Oh, I remember: is notthat the poor boy at the White Hart?"
"Yes, Ma'am," replied the footman, "the little humpback that you gavehalf-a-crown to one day when he was whistling so beautiful."
"Oh, I will see him, of course," said Isabella, much to the footman'samazement, who could not see the 'of course;' "I will come out andspeak with him."
"Have him brought in here, Bella," said Mary, "I know the poor boywell, and his mother, too. The daughter is dead; she married badly, Ibelieve, and died two or three years ago."
"Bring him in," said Miss Slingsby to the servant, and the man retiredto fulfil her commands. As Billy Lamb entered the room the two fairgirls, both so beautiful yet so unlike each other, advanced towardsthe door to meet him; and stood before the poor deformed boy leaningslightly towards each other, with their arms linked together. The boyremained near the entrance, and the footman held the door open behindhim till Miss Slingsby nodded her head as an intimation that hispresence was not required.
"Well, William," said Isabella, as the man departed, "how are you, andwhat is it you want?"
"And your poor mother, William," said Mary Clifford, "I have not seenher a long while, how is she?"
"She is much better, thank you, Ma'am," replied the boy. "She isreconciled with Stephen, now, and has gone to be with him up in thecottage, and take care of his little boy, my poor sister's orphan, andso she is much better." Then turning to Isabella, he went on--"I amquite well, thank you, Miss; but somehow my heart is very down justnow, for I came up to tell Sir John something very terrible and verybad."
"Is it magistrate's business, William? or can I give you any help?"asked Isabella.
"Oh dear no, Miss Slingsby," replied the boy, "it is not about myselfat all, but about Sir John;" and he looked up in her face with hisclear, bright, intelligent eyes, as if beseeching her to understandhim without forcing him to further explanations.
But Isabella did not understand him at all; and she inquired--"What doyou mean, my good lad? I am sure my father will be glad to do anything he can for you; and I do not think that you would yourself doany thing very terrible and very bad, such as you speak of."
"Hush, Isabella," said her cousin, whose heart was a more apprehensiveone than her cousin's, and who had some glimmering of dangers orsorrows hidden under the boy's obscure words: "Let him explainhimself. Tell us, William, exactly what you mean. If wrong has beendone you, we will try to make it right; but you spoke of my uncle: hasany thing happened to Sir John?"
"No, Miss Mary," replied Billy Lamb, "but I fear evil may happen tohim if something is not done to stop it."
"But of what kind?" asked Isabella, anxiously: "tell us all about it.What is it you fear? Where did you get your information?"
"From Mr. Bacon," answered the boy, simply, "the little lawyer atTarningham, Ma'am. He's not a bad man, nor an unkind man either, likeMr. Wharton; and, though he did not just bid me come up and tell SirJohn, yet he said he very much wished he knew what was going tohappen. Then he said he could not write about it, for it was nobusiness of his, as he was but acting for others, and he did not liketo send a message because--"
"But what is it?" exclaimed Mary Clifford and Isabella together. "Inpity's name, my good boy, do not keep us in suspense."
"Why, Ma'am, he said," continued the boy, in a sad tone, and castingdown his eyes, "that to-morrow there would be an execution put inhere--that means that they will seize every thing. I know that, forthey did so six months after my father died. Then he said that verylikely Sir John would be arrested, unless he could pay five thousandpounds down at once."
Isabella sunk down in a chair overwhelmed, exclaiming, "Good Heaven!"
"This is what Captain Hayward told us of!" said Mary Clifford, puttingher hand to her brow, and speaking rather to herself than to hercousin. "How unfortunate that he should be absent now. This duel,depend upon it, has prevented him from taking the means he proposedfor averting this blow. I feel sure he could and would have done so ashe promised."
"Oh, whatever Ned Hayward promised he was able to perform," answeredIsabella, "nothing but some unfortunate circumstance, such as thisduel, has prevented him. He is as true and open as the day, Mary. Whatwould I not give for but five minutes' conversation with him now."
"Would you? Would you?" said the musical voice of the poor boy. "Ithink if you want them, you can have them very soon."
"Oh, you dear good boy!" cried Isabella, starting up, "send him heredirectly, if you know where he is. Tell him that my father's safetydepends entirely upon him: tell him we are ruined if he does notcome."
"I do not think I can send him," said the boy in a disappointed tone."I don't think he can come: but if you like to go and see him, I willventure to take you where he is; for I am sure you would not do him agreat injury, and say any thing of where he is hid."
"Go to him?" exclaimed Isabella; "why, it is growing quite dark, mygood William. How can I go? But this is folly and weakness," sheexclaimed the next moment, "when my father's liberty and character areat stake, shall I hesitate to go any where. I will go, William. Whereis it? Is it far?"
"Stay, dear Isabella," said her cousin, "if needful, I will go withyou. This is a case which I think may justify what would be otherwiseimproper. But let me ask one or two questions. You say Mr. Bacon toldyou this, William. If he wished my uncle to know the facts, why did henot send one of his clerks?"
"Why he said, Miss Mary, that he had no right," answered the boy, "heseemed in a great flurry, and as if he did not well know what to do;but he asked if I had seen Sir John in town; for he generally comes tothe White Hart, you know; and told me to let him know if I chanced tomeet with him in town, because he wanted to speak with himexceedingly. And then he went on that he did not know that he ought totell him either; for he had got an execution to take to-morrow, here,and to have a writ against him the first thing to-morrow, and a greatdeal mor
e that I forget. But he said he was very sorry, and wouldalmost give one of his hands not to have it to do. At last he said Iwas not to tell any body in the town what he had said, but that Imight tell Sir John if I saw him, so I came away here, Miss, as soonas I could."
"But where is Captain Hayward to be found, then?" asked Miss Clifford."You must tell us that before we can make up our minds, William."
"I may as well tell you as take you," replied the boy, "but I must goon before to say you are coming. He is at Ste Gimlet's, with him andmy mother, and has been there ever since he shot Mr. Wittingham."
"Oh, I shall not mind going there," cried Isabella, "it will not callfor observation from the servants, but if he had been at an inn, itwould have been terrible."
Mary Clifford smiled; for she was one of those who valued proprieties_nearly_ at their right worth, if not quite. She never violated themrashly; for no pleasure, or amusement, or mere personal gratificationwould she transgress rules which society had framed, even though shemight think them foolish; but with a great object, a good purpose, anda clear heart, she was ready to set them at nought. "I will go verywillingly with you, dear Bella," she said. "Captain Hayward went toLondon, I know, for the express purpose of providing the means ofaverting this calamity; but, from some words which he let drop, Ifancy he believed that it was not likely to fall upon us so soon.There is no way that I see of aiding your father but by seeing andconsulting with this old friend. You said all this would happen earlytomorrow, William?" she continued, turning again to the boy.
"As soon as it was light, Miss Mary," replied poor Billy Lamb.
"Oh, Heaven, I will order the carriage directly," said Isabella, "runon, there's a good lad, and let Captain Hayward know I am coming. Youcan tell him why, and all about it."
The boy retired, and sped away by the shortest paths towards hisbrother-in-law's cottage. In the mean while the carriage was ordered;but Sir John had got the chariot with him; the barouche had notbeen out for some time; and the coachman thought fit to dust it.Three-quarters of an hour passed ere the lamps were lighted and allwas ready, and then a footman with gold-laced hat in hand stood by theside of the vehicle, to hand the ladies in and accompany them.Isabella, however, told him that he would not be wanted, and gave theorder to drive to Stephen Gimlet's cottage.
"Ay!" said the footman, as he turned into the house again, "BillyLamb's mother is there. Now they'll do the young ladies out of aguinea or two, I'll warrant. What fools women are, to be sure!"
While he thus moralised, the carriage rolled slowly on in the darknight, drawn by two tall pursey horses and driven by a coachman of thesame qualities, neither of whom at all approved of being unexpectedlytaken out at that hour of the night; for dinner parties were rare inthe neighbourhood of Tarningham Park, balls were rarer still, and SirJohn Slingsby was much fonder of seeing what he called a set of jollyfellows at his own house than of going out to find them, so that noneof his horses were at all accustomed to trot by candlelight. Nearlyhalf an hour more elapsed before the carriage entered the quiet laneunaccustomed to the sound of any wheels but those of a waggon, or ataxed-cart, and at length the reins were drawn in at the door of thecottage. The house looked unpromising; not a light was to be seen,for, strange to say, window-shutters had been put up to every casementof Stephen Gimlet's dwelling, though one would not have supposed him aman addicted to such luxuries. The coachman felt his dignity hurt athaving to descend from the box and open the carriage-door, therespectability of the whole family seemed to suffer in his eyes; but,nevertheless, he did it, and as he did so the horses moved on two orthree yards, of which Isabella was glad, for she reflected that if thecoachman saw into the cottage, he might see the inmates also. Ere shewent in, she told him to drive back to the style some two hundredyards down the lane, and if the boy Billy Lamb came over--it was hisway from Tarningham Park--to keep him with the carriage. Then, withtwo hearts which it must be confessed fluttered sadly, Isabella andMary knocked at the cottage-door, and scarcely waiting for replyopened it in haste and went in. Mary's heart fluttered at the thoughtof seeing Ned Hayward, as well as at the feeling of taking a somewhatunusual step; but Isabella's flutter was solely on the latter accounttill the door was open, and then it became worse than ever on anotherscore.
The first object she saw straight before her was Mr. Beauchamp, whowas standing in the midst of the little parlour of the cottage,talking to the poor boy, Billy Lamb, while Mrs. Lamb and StephenGimlet were placed near the wide cottage hearth.
The moment that Miss Slingsby's face appeared, Beauchamp turned fromthe boy, saying,
"Here are the ladies themselves. Now go home, my good boy; and if yourmaster is angry at your absence, tell him I will explain all to him.My dear Miss Slingsby, I am delighted to see you and your fair cousin.The boy says you wish to speak with Captain Hayward. He is in the roomabove. I will tell him immediately;" and, after shaking hands withboth of the ladies, he turned away and went upstairs.
Mary whispered eagerly with Isabella; and Stephen Gimlet touched hismother-in-law's arm, as he saw that there was evidently a good deal ofagitation in their fair visitors' manner, saying,
"Come, Goody, it wont give you cold, I dare say, to walk out for a bitwith me. They'll want to talk together," he added, in a low voice,"and if it's cold we'll go into the little vestry of the church."
The old woman looked towards the back-room, where the child wassleeping; but Stephen answered her, ere she spoke, whispering,
"No, no, we should hear it all there."
Goody Lamb put her shawl over her head, while he took down the key ofthe church; and Mary's eye catching their movements, she said,
"Only for a few minutes, Mrs. Lamb. I should like to speak with youwhen we have said a few words to Captain Hayward."
Mrs. Lamb dropped a courtesy, and went out with her son-in-law; andthe next moment, a slow step was heard coming down the stairs.
"Good Heaven, you are ill, Captain Hayward," cried Isabella, as herfather's friend presented himself, followed by Beauchamp. MaryClifford said nothing, but she felt more.
"Oh, I shall soon be well again, my dear Miss Slingsby," answered NedHayward; "the ball is out, and I am recovering quite fast--only alittle weak."
"Hayward tells me I shall not be one too many," said Beauchamp; "butif I am, Miss Slingsby, send me away, remembering, however, that youmay command me in any other way as well as that."
What a difference there is between enterprise and execution! How thedifficulties grow upon us at every step of the mountain path, and howfaint the heart feels at the early obstacles which we had altogetheroverlooked, Isabella Slingsby had thought it would be the easiestthing in the world to enter upon the state of her father's affairswith Ned Hayward. He was so old a friend; he had known her fathersince he was himself sixteen years of age; he had himself given thefirst warning, had opened the way. It had seemed to her, indeed, thatthere would not be the slightest difficulty, that there could not beany obstacle; but now, when she had to speak of all, her heart sank,her courage failed her; and she strove to turn the conversation to anyother subject--only for a moment, till she recovered thought andbreath.
"Oh, no! Do not go, Mr. Beauchamp," she said. "But how ill CaptainHayward looks. We had no idea he had been wounded. They said that Mr.Wittingham was the only sufferer."
"I can assure you, it is nothing," replied Ned Hayward; "but you mustsit down, my dear young lady;" and with his left arm he put a seat forMiss Slingsby, while Beauchamp did the same good office for MaryClifford. "I am sure that you have something important to say, and Iguess what it is," the young officer continued; "Miss Clifford, youtold your cousin a very painful communication I made to you ten ortwelve days ago. Is it not so? and she has come to speak upon thatsubject?"
"I did, Captain Hayward," answered Mary Clifford; "I told her all youhad said--and your generous and noble offer to assist Sir John in themost pressing emergency. Her own knowledge confirmed in a great degreethe fact of great danger; but we feared that t
his unfortunate duelmight have interfered with your plans, and knew not where to find you,or communicate with you."
"I did not forget what I had undertaken," answered Ned Hayward; "butlike a thoughtless fool, as I am, I forgot I might be wounded, MissClifford, or that I might be forced to run for it. Well may the goodpeople call me thoughtless Ned Hayward; for I remembered that I mightbe killed, and provided against it; but I did not recollect any thingelse, and ordered the money to be remitted to the bank here atTarningham. The ball went into my shoulder, however, and I have beenunable to write ever since; otherwise I would have sent the chequelong ago, to be used whenever it was needed. I hope to be able towrite as well as ever in a few days; so put your mind quite at easeupon that score. As for the mortgage, which is, I suppose, in trainfor immediate fore-closure, we must think what can be done some otherway; for I am a poor man, as you know, and have not the means oflending the amount;" and, as he spoke, he turned his eyes towardsBeauchamp.
Ned Hayward calculated that there would be plenty of time to make allhis arrangements; but such fancies were dissipated in a moment byIsabella's reply:--
"Did not the boy tell you," she asked, "that every thing you feared,is to take place to-morrow? He came up to warn us. That good littleman, Bacon, the attorney, sent him."
"No, Isabella," said Mary Clifford, "he did not exactly send him; buthe told him the facts, evidently that they might reach my uncle'sears; and the boy came up to tell us. I was sure, Captain Hayward,"she added, with a glowing cheek, "that you would do what you could toaid, and that, if you could not aid, you would advise us how to act.We therefore came on here, without hesitation; for no time is to belost, and Sir John is unfortunately out at dinner."
"Very luckily, rather," said Ned Hayward. "No time, indeed, is to belost, if such be the state of things. I must write the cheque at once,some way or another. There is a pen and ink in my little room, I willgo and get it."
"But can you write?" asked Mary, anxiously; "can you, without injuryto yourself?"
"Nay, stay, Hayward, stay," said Beauchamp; "you mentioned the subjectof the mortgage to me the other day. What is the amount, can youtell?"
"About fifty thousand pounds, and the devil himself knows how muchinterest," answered Ned Hayward; "for I do not think Sir John has anyidea."
"Nay, then I fear you must write the cheque," said Beauchamp, gravely;"for I must not diminish the amount in the bank; but I will get thepen and ink. We are a sort of prisoners here, Miss Slingsby, and darenot show ourselves till Mr. Wittingham's state is better ascertained,or we should long ago have endeavoured to put your mind at rest uponthese subjects. However, we hear the young man is better, andtherefore I trust we shall not be obliged to play at hide and seekmuch longer."
Thus saying, he went up the stairs again, but was several minutes erehe returned, during which time, though occasionally falling into fitsof grave thought, Ned Hayward laughed and talked gaily; from time totime stealing a quiet look at the fair face of Mary Clifford, as sheleaned her arm upon the table, and gazed somewhat sadly at the embersof the gamekeeper's fire.
At length Mr. Beauchamp made his appearance once more, and sittingdown to the table with a cheque-book before him, Ned Hayward, with alaugh, took the pen in his hand, saying,
"I must dash it off in haste, or it will be pronounced a forgery. Sohere is for it," and with a rapid stroke or two he filled up thecheque for the sum of twelve thousand pounds, and signed his name. Hischeek turned pale as he wrote; and Mary Clifford saw it, but that wasthe only sign of pain that he suffered to appear. Then, throwing downthe pen, he took the paper with his left hand, and gave it to MissSlingsby.
"There," he said, "I have had you on my knee twelve years ago, andcalled you dear little Bella; but I never thought you would give me somuch pleasure as you do now."
"Well, Ned Hayward," exclaimed Isabella, with her eyes running over,"you are certainly the best and noblest creature in the world."
Mary Clifford's lips murmured something very like "He is."
Beauchamp looked on with an expression of grave pleasure; but scarcelywas the check signed and given, when the door of the cottage openedsuddenly, and Stephen Gimlet took a step over the threshold, saying,
"I have caught him, gentlemen, I have caught him like a rat in atrap."
"Whom have you caught?" asked Beauchamp, turning quickly towards him.
"Why, the fellow who fired the shot in at the window," answeredStephen Gimlet.
"That is glorious!" exclaimed Ned Hayward. "Where is he? What have youdone with him?"
"I should not have meddled with him, perhaps," said the gamekeeper,"if I had not found him meddling with the registers in the church,which I know he has no right to do. I and Goody Lamb went out for abit into the churchyard, and, as she found the wind cold, we openedthe little door at this side of the church and went in; I had not beenin a minute, when I heard some one talking plain enough, but I couldnot see any body for the life of me. I told Goody Lamb to stand behindthe pillar by the pulpit, while I went to see; but before I could takea step, up out of the Moreton vault came two men with a lantern. Oneof them was this fellow; and the other was the old sexton; and theywalked straight across towards the vestry; but, just a little way fromthe door, the old sexton stopped and said, 'I can't, captain, it isnothing better than forgery;' or something like that; and the otherfellow took the lantern and went on into the vestry. So I said toGoody Lamb, in a whisper: 'Those rascals are up to no good;' and sheanswered: 'One of them never was all his life.' So, then I said: 'Youget forward and scare the old sexton; I'll be close behind you.' Theold woman did it in a minute, walking on without any noise, till shewas right between him and the light, coming out of the vestry-door.However, he had heard us whisper, I fancy; for he was staring abouthim, as if he was looking for a ghost; and, as soon as he sawsomething stand there, off he set, as if the devil were behind him;and I jumped into the vestry, where the other fellow was sitting withone of the great books open before him, and a pen in his hand. I didnot give him much time to think, but knocked him over, upset thelantern, and locked the door. So there he is in a cage, just like oneof my ferrets."
"That's capital," cried Ned Hayward; but Beauchamp looked very grave,and, turning to Gimlet, he said,
"We'll consider what is to be done with him by and by. You can bringyour good mother-in-law back now, Stephen; for our business is nearlyover, and then you can see these two ladies safe to the carriage. MissSlingsby," he continued, as soon as the gamekeeper was gone, "I wishto speak two words with you regarding this little note," and he heldone up before her. "I took advantage of the pen and ink before Ibrought it down, and so kept you waiting, I'm afraid; but it was notwithout a purpose."
Isabella hesitated for a moment; but Beauchamp added, laughing,
"Nay, surely, you will trust yourself with me as far as the door."
"Oh, yes," replied Isabella, with a gay toss of her head; "I am doingall kinds of odd things to-night, and see no reason for stopping inmid course."
Thus saying, she walked towards the door, with Beauchamp following;and they went out into the little garden, where Beauchamp put the notein her hand, saying,
"This is addressed to Dr. Miles, my dear young lady. We are not verywell aware of what has taken place regarding this mortgage, whichHayward has mentioned to me; but I fear there is some foul play goingon. Should any sudden inconvenience arise regarding it, or theinterest upon it, send that note instantly to Dr. Miles, and, at thesame time, take means to let me know."
"But how, my kind friend?" asked Isabella, "how can I let you know,without discovering your place of concealment to others? You aredoubtless, aware, that there are placards all over the place offeringa reward for the apprehension of yourself and Captain Hayward."
"We must not mind that," answered Beauchamp; "but, at all events, itmay be as well to send a note to me, enclosed to good old Widow Lamb;and I must take my measures afterwards, as I find best. In the meantime, Dr. Miles will insure that your fat
her is put to noinconvenience; for it so luckily happens, that I have a large sumunemployed at the present moment, which could not be better applied,than by saving you from distress and annoyance."
"Oh, Mr. Beauchamp," cried Isabella, greatly moved, "what right have Ito so much kindness and generosity?"
"Every right, that a fine and noble heart can give," answeredBeauchamp; "and, oh, let me add, every right, that can be bestowed bythe most sincere affection, that ever woman inspired in man--but Iwill not agitate you more to-night. This is not a moment, when I canpress such a topic upon you. There is only one thing you must promise,that you will suffer no consideration whatever to prevent you fromavailing yourself of the means of freeing your father from hisdifficulties--no, not even the rash words I have just spoken."
Isabella was silent for a moment; but then she replied, in a lowvoice,
"Those words would have quite the contrary effect. They would give meconfidence and hope;" and she put her hand in his.
Beauchamp raised it to his lips warmly, fully understanding all thather reply implied.
The devil is in a country apothecary. There is an awkward fatalityabout them which always brings them on the ground at the wrong moment.
"Good night, good night, Mr. Beauchamp," said Mr. Slattery ofTarningham, slowly walking his horse down the sandy lane. "I thought Iwould just step in to see Captain Hayward, and tell you that HarryWittingham is much better to-night," and Mr. Slattery, was dismountingfrom his horse, not in the slightest degree with the intention ofseeing whose hand Mr. Beauchamp had been kissing, but merely in theexercise of his professional avocations. As misfortune would have it,Beauchamp had left the cottage-door open behind him, so that thesurgeon had a fair view of the act by which that gentleman had sealedhis tacit contract with Isabella, by the light which streamed forthfrom within. But that which was unfortunate on one side, was fortunateon another; for no sooner was the first monosyllable out of Mr.Slattery's mouth, than Isabella darted in and closed the door, so thatthe surgeon, though he thought the figure strangely like Sir John'sdaughter, could not swear to the fact.
Beauchamp at the same time hastened to prevent his obtaining any moreprecise knowledge, saying. "Thank you for your information, Mr.Slattery. Hayward is better, and cannot see you to-night, beingparticularly engaged at present. Good night;" and he also retired intothe house and shut the door.
"Ho, ho!" said Mr. Slattery, "so they do not choose me to see! Well,let them take the consequences. When people trust me, I can be assilent as the grave; but if they show a want of confidence, I know howto match them. Did I whisper one word to any one of where the twogentlemen were? No, not a word! and now they think to blind me. Well,well, we shall see."
And Mr. Slattery did see, for while this soliloquy had been going on,he had been going on too, and when it came to a conclusion, he cameupon the lamps of the large comfortable barouche of Sir John Slingsby.
"Good evening, Jenkins," said Mr. Slattery to the tall fat coachman,"is Sir John in this part, that you are out so late?"
"No, Sir," replied Jenkins, "he's got the charitt over at Meadowfield.I brought over my young lady to see Widow Lamb, at Gimlet's, the newkeeper's.
"Ho, ho," said Mr. Slattery again, but he had not time to makereflections, for at the very moment, he heard a pair of human feetrunning hard, and the next instant a figure shot across the glare ofthe carriage-lamps. Mr. Slattery had a quick eye, and he instantlycalled after the runner, "Hie! hie! captain, I want to speak withyou."
But the person whom he addressed ran on; and as Mr. Slattery did notchoose to be so evaded, he struck his plated spurs into his horse'sside, and overtook him at the distance of a quarter of a mile; foronce past the style where the carriage stood, there was no possiblemeans of getting out of the high-banked lane.
"Hie, captain! Captain Moreton!" cried Mr. Slattery, as he came near;and Moreton not at all liking to have his name shouted all over thecountry, slackened his pace.
"What the devil do you want, Slattery?" he asked, "do you not see I'min a hurry?"
"There's my little account, you know, captain," said Mr. Slattery,"four years' standing, and you'd really oblige me very much if--"
"Devil fly away with your account," said the worthy captain,"do you think I'm going to pay for all the physic you drugged themaid-servants with at the hall?"
"Have you heard the news, captain?" exclaimed Mr. Slattery, comingabruptly to the real point, as he perceived the other was going to runagain.
"No, what news?" asked Moreton, pausing.
"Why that Miss Slingsby is going to be married immediately to Mr.Beauchamp, who has been staying down here so long," answered Mr.Slattery; and then added, "as soon as young Wittingham's out of alldanger, they say."
"Is she, by G--d!" exclaimed the captain. "Well, doctor, I shall takethe short cut through that gate--good night; and do not say to any oneyou saw me here. I know you can be trusted with a secret."
"To be sure!" said Mr. Slattery; and while Captain Moreton vaultedover the gate, the surgeon pursued his way towards Tarningham.