CHAPTER XXXIX.
We must go back to an early hour of that same Sunday morning, and tothe cottage of Stephen Gimlet, near the little church. Both Stephenhimself and his mother-in-law had risen betimes; and the boy was stillsleeping in his bed. The old lady spent three-quarters of an hour inwriting an epistle, with her spectacles on her nose; while herson-in-law ate his breakfast; and when the act of composition wasover, she folded up in the letter an old piece of paper, partlyprinted, partly written, the very same in fact, which had flown out ofher family Bible one morning, when poor Billy Lamb, coming in, hadfound the book in the hands of Stephen Gimlet's little boy. She thenadded thereto an old, somewhat crumpled, and well-worn letter, firstreading over the address attentively, got a light and a small piece ofred sealing-wax, sealed the letter, and stamped it with the end of herthimble.
"There, Stephen," she said, giving the letter to her son-in-law, "heis back now, that's certain; take that up to him, and tell him, thatif he wants to hear any more about it, I can give him information ofthe whole. I know all the names, and I believe the minister is alivestill.--I would not go out of the house, if I were you, till I sawhim; and, if by any chance he should not be come down yet, I wouldhang about and catch him, when he arrives; for it is only just righthe should know how the whole matter stands, before he goes anyfurther."
"I won't miss him this time, goody," said Ste Gimlet; "so you and theboy get your dinner, if I should not come back in time. I am veryuneasy at its not having been done before; for we poor people cannottell what may become of such things with great folks, and after allyou tell me, I am very sure, that blackguard fellow Moreton is nothanging about here for any good."
Thus saying, Stephen Gimlet put the letter carefully up, and wentaway, as usual, with his gun in his hand, and his dog following. Itwas not yet more than half-past five o'clock; and, recollecting thatthe servants of Sir John Slingsby were not very matutinal in theirhabits, the gamekeeper thought he might as well go upon one of hisrounds, which led him near to Chandleigh Heath, and see if he couldget any inkling of Captain Moreton's proceedings. He walked slowlyalong up the lane from his own house, crossed the high-road fromTarningham to London, and then taking a path across the fields, sooncame to another lane, which led him to a sandy way, having a highhedge with elm-trees on the left, and Chandleigh Heath on the right.It was sunk down some way beneath the rest of the country, so as togive no prospect over the common; but, a couple of hundred yardsfurther on, a footpath went up over the bank and divided into two,something after the fashion of a bird's merrythought, one branchleading to an old tumulus, topped with firs, and the other, which wasmuch shorter, running down to the cottage inhabited by CaptainMoreton. About twenty yards before he reached this turning, the dog,which followed at Stephen Gimlet's heels, began to growl in a somewhatangry manner; and the gamekeeper turned round to look in whatdirection the beast's eyes were bent. Before he could ascertain,however, a man suddenly sprang over the hedge, and cast himself uponhim, seizing the barrel of his gun with both hands. A fierce struggleensued; for Stephen Gimlet at once perceived who his adversary was;and the gamekeeper, though taken unawares, was decidedly getting thebetter, when he suddenly found his arms seized from behind, and a cordpassed quickly round them. The next instant the cord was drawn tightin spite of all his efforts; but at the same moment he had thesatisfaction of hearing the voice of Harry Wittingham exclaim: "Damnthe dog, he has bit me to the bone;" and, as his legs were free, hemade so strenuous an application of his thick-nailed shoes to theshins of Captain Moreton, that the respectable gentleman let go hishold; and, darting away, Stephen Gimlet ran forward, as fast as hecould, in the hope of meeting some one, who would render himassistance. I have said, that his assailants sprang upon him frombehind; and, consequently, the only paths open for the fugitive werethose which led towards the cottage or to the tumulus on the heath. Inthe latter direction he was not likely to find any one to help him;but down the lane, which passed close by the cottage, were a number ofpoor men's houses, the inhabitants of which usually went out to workabout that hour. It is a pity that Stephen Gimlet did not recollectthat it was Sunday; but so it was; and the good labourers were takingan additional nap to refresh them after the toils of the week. No oneknows how much one limb aids another, even in the peculiar functionsof the latter, till some deprivation has taken place. Now, at thefirst consideration, we should say, that a man did not run with hisarms; but yet the arms help a man very much in running; and StephenGimlet soon found to his cost, that he could not run as he wasaccustomed to do, without them. He was much swifter of foot thaneither of those who followed; but yet, by the time that he had gotthree hundred yards down the lane, they had recovered their hold ofhim and thrown him down. In fact, it was a great convenience to them,that he had run; for every step that he had taken was in the directionwhich they had intended to carry him; and when they overtook him, hewas not thirty yards from the garden-gate of the cottage. He waseasily dragged along for that distance, brought into the house, andput into a room, which had been constructed by the retired hosier forwhat he called the butler's-pantry, though it is by no means to beunderstood that he ever had, or expected to have, such a thing as abutler, or any thing the least like it. Nevertheless, as the room wasdestined to contain a certain amount of silver spoons, tea-pots, andother little pieces of the precious metal, strong bars had been put upto the windows; and the butler's-pantry now formed a very convenientlittle cage for the bird, which the two gentlemen had caught out uponthe common.
Before they shut the door upon him, Mr. Henry Wittingham made someproposal to Captain Moreton in a low voice, to which the otherreplied:
"No, no; he'll make an outcry and wake the women; and then we shallhave it all over the place. You can lick him well before we let himout, if you like. Let us attend to the main business first, and,having got him in, keep him in; nobody knowing any thing aboutit.--Good morning, Master Wolf; you shall have some bread-and-water,if you like, but nothing else for the next four-and-twenty hours."
Stephen Gimlet answered not; and it is to be remarked, that--whether,because he thought that shouting would be of no use, or that he choseto imitate the beast, whose name he had acquired, in its taciturnhabits under adversity--not a word had he uttered from the beginningof the fray until the end. He suffered the door to be shut upon him insilence; and while he remained revolving what was to be done, orwhether any thing could be done, his two captors retired to the littledrawing-room, where they sat down and laughed for a moment at thesuccess of their scheme. Their first merriment, however, soon gave wayto some uneasy sensations. Captain Moreton rubbed his shins, which hadsuffered considerably from the contact with Stephen Gimlet's shoes.Harry Wittingham unceremoniously pulled off his boot, and found hiswhole stocking stained with blood, and the marks of four large fangsvery apparent in the heel and tendon.
"Come along with me," said Captain Moreton, when he saw hiscompanion's state; "we'll get a little salt and water; you shall washyour heel with it, and I will wash my shins, for that d--d fellow haskicked all the skin off--salt and water is the best thing in theworld."
While they go to perform the part of surgeons upon themselves, I will,with the reader's leave, return to speak of one of the actors in thescene of Stephen Gimlet's capture, who has not had as much notice ashe deserves. The dog, who had followed him from his own cottage, afterhaving paid due attention to the heel of Mr. Wittingham, and receiveda severe kick for his pains, gave chase to the pursuers of his masterdown the lane, tore Captain Moreton's coat with a spring and a snap;but then suddenly, as if he saw that his own unassisted efforts coulddo little, and judged, that it might be right to seek assistance, hedarted off at a right angle across the common, with his head hangingdown, his tongue out, and some angry foam dropping from his mouth. Heran straight through a farm-yard on the opposite side of the heath,bit at a woman who was going to milk the cows, but only tore herapron, wounded the farmer's dog with a sharp snap, went clear over thewall and straight on toward Tarnin
gham, biting at every living thingthat came in his way, but never stopping to ascertain whether he hadinflicted much or little evil. This misanthropical spirit soon calledthe attention of the people, and excited their indignation. They gavethe poor dog a bad name; and, though no one could be found toundertake the exact task of hanging him, they followed withpitchforks, sticks, shovels, stones, and a very miscellaneousassortment of other weapons, such as pokers, tongs, &c.; and, drivinghim into the court-yard of the mayor's house at Tarningham, succeededin killing him without doing any other further mischief.
Such is the tragic history of Stephen Gimlet's poor dog; but of noneof the particulars were Captain Moreton and Harry Wittingham madeacquainted at the time; for both those gentlemen thought fit to keepthemselves strictly to the house during the whole morning. Of much andmany things did they talk; they comforted the outward man, as had beenproposed, with salt and water; they comforted the inner man withtoast, coffee, eggs, and broiled ham. The broiled ham left themthirsty; and at twelve o'clock they tried to assuage such unpleasantsensations by a glass of cold brandy-and-water; and, finding that notsucceed according to their expectation, they tried another glass hot.After that, Harry Wittingham declared he felt tired and sleepy withgetting up so early, and retired to lie down for a time; but hecontinued sleeping in a broken sort of confused slumber for betweenthree and four hours, when he was roused by hearing some very hightones, and apparently sharp words proceeding from the neighbouringroom. Without difficulty he recognised the voices of Captain Moretonand his fair companion, who had seemed in no very good humour when hesupped with him the night before; but he could not distinguish thesubject of dispute on the present occasion; and, looking at his watch,he found that it was past four o'clock. Knowing that the dinner-hourat the cottage was five, he washed his face and hands, arranged hishair, as best he might, and went down to the drawing-room, stillhearing the strife of tongues raging in the adjoining room.
It was some quarter of an hour before Captain Moreton joined him; andhe was then informed by his worthy friend, that dinner would be halfan hour later that day, as the maid had been sent to Buxton's Inn, forthe purpose of ordering a chaise to be at the door at nightfall.
This announcement startled Harry Wittingham a good deal.
"But where the devil are you going to, Moreton?" he inquired; "you arenot going to leave me alone with this fellow, are you?"
"Only for a short time, Mr. Wittingham," answered Captain Moreton, inhis easy, nonchalant way, "not long enough for him to eat you, or foryou to eat him. You know what obstinate devils these women are; and Ihave got to do with the most pigheaded of the whole race. The fact is,Wittingham, we have got in our hands, if we do but use it properly,the means of having full revenge upon one or two good friends of ours;amongst the rest, that fellow, who, as you ought to remember, wassecond to Captain Hayward in his duel with you, Mr. Beauchamp, hecalls himself."
"Why, I hear he has turned out a Lord Lenham, and is going to marryold Sir John's pretty daughter."
"Exactly so," answered Captain Moreton, drily; "but if he doesn'tmind, his wedding tour will be a different one to what he expects;however, I have the greatest difficulty in preventing my fair friendCharlotte from spoiling the whole business; for she is in one of herviolent fits, and then she gets as mad as a March hare. She and I mustact together; but I must not appear in the business; for you see thereare two or three little things that the people might bring against me.I have resolved, therefore, to get over to Winterton, till to-morrow'swork is blown over; for she will be present to witness the marriage,do what I can to stop her. As the mischief would have it, however, Ithreatened to blow the whole matter up, if she would not submit tomanagement; and so she will not let me out of her sight, threateningat the same time to cut my throat, or some pretty little thing of thatkind by way of making herself a pleasant companion. However, she mustgo with me, that's clear, and come over in a chaise tomorrow to thewedding. If she does not spoil all, and this man here can be kept in,we have got them completely in our power."
"Why, what in fortune's name can he have to do with Lord Lenham'smarriage?" asked Harry Wittingham.
"I don't know, exactly," answered Captain Moreton, musing gravely;"but I have a good many suspicions about him, which it won't do tomention just yet. All I ask, is to have him kept in here, till afterthe marriage is over; and you will have nothing further to do with it,than to keep the key of the room and prevent any of the girls fromgoing in. By so doing you will punish him ten times more than if youlicked him for an hour. I know you are not given to be afraid of anything; but, if people should make a fuss about it, it is very easy tosay you did it, to punish him for knocking you down the way he did."
Harry Wittingham smiled; and the moment after Captain Moretoncontinued: "Here she comes, by Jove; I'll get out of the way for thepresent, and cram some meat down that fellow's throat without untyinghim. You'll stay, Wittingham, won't you? I shall be back to-morrownight."
"Why, I must stay, I suppose," said Harry Wittingham; "for good oldDame Billiter thinks I shall be here till to-morrow night; and Iexpect her to send me up some money, if she can get it."
Captain Moreton did not wait for any thing further than this assent,but disappeared by the right-hand door; and the moment after, the fairlady, whom I have so often mentioned, entered by the other. Her facewas somewhat redder than usual; but that was the only sign ofagitating passions that could be discovered in her demeanour. Her stepwas calm, stealthy, and cat-like; her eyes looked cold and flat, witha meaningless sort of glassy glare about them, as if purposely coveredby a semi-opaque film to veil what was passing beneath. She lookedslowly round the room, without taking any notice of Mr. Wittingham,though she had not seen him that day; and, walking round to themock-rosewood sofa, she sat down in silence and took some papers outof the drawer of the table. Harry Wittingham wished her good morning,and addressed to her some commonplace observation, to which shereplied with a forced smile, and then busied herself with her papersagain. When Captain Moreton re-entered the room about a quarter of anhour afterwards, a sudden fierce gleam came into her eyes and passedaway again; but she uttered not a word; and, dinner being announcedsoon after, she took Mr. Wittingham's arm and walked into the smalldining-room. When the meal was over, and she left the gentlemen totheir wine, she passed by Captain Moreton's chair, and bending downher head, she said in a low voice, but loud enough for Mr. Wittinghamto hear:
"Remember, Moreton, remember! You know me!"
Captain Moreton only laughed, though the words were said with athreatening manner; and, as soon as she was gone, he plied HarryWittingham with wine, which was followed by brandy-and-water; and inthe pleasant occupation thus provided, the two worthy compeerscontinued to exercise themselves, till the sky grew grey, and the rollof a chaise was heard before the garden.
"There, Wittingham," cried Captain Moreton, starting up, "there's thekey of the little cellar--small enough, but there's sufficient in itto lay you dead-drunk for a fortnight. There's the key of the cage,too; keep the bird safe till ten or eleven o'clock to-morrow. I willtry to keep my grey mare in hand; and, if we can manage both,you will hear some news tomorrow night, that will make you laughheartily--Farewell, my good fellow," and going to the door, he shoutedaloud, "Where's the portmanteau?"
"I put it in the shay, Sir," said the girl; and, turning once more toHarry Wittingham, Captain Moreton told him that he should see himbefore ten the following night, and went to seek his fair companion.
In a few minutes more they were gone; but the gentleman they leftbehind did not see any reason why he should not finish the bottle ofwine on the table, "just to take the taste of the brandy out of hismouth." After that he fell asleep in an armchair; and so sound was hisslumber, that the maid came in twice and looked at him; but seeingthat there was no probability of his waking for some hours, she put afresh pair of candles on the table, and went to bed.
Harry Wittingham slept and dreamed: He thought he had committed somehorrible act, that the
hue and cry was raised, the whole county inpursuit, and that he could hear the galloping of horses coming closeafter him. He struggled to spur his own beast forward, but its legswould not move; and, looking down with horror and consternation, hefound it was a rocking-horse with little bells at its ears and itstail. Suddenly a constable seemed to grasp him by the shoulder; and,starting up in agony, he found the servant-girl shaking him.
"Please, Sir," she said, "Mrs. Billiter has sent up the man to say,that your father is dying, and you must go down directly."
Without a moment's thought or consideration, Harry Wittingham ran out,snatched up his hat in the passage; and, telling the man to follow onfoot, mounted the horse and rode away to Tarningham.