CHAPTER XXI
IN THE CARRIAGE
The man whose work had taken him that evening to the summit of theDruid's Mound, and whose tale roused the Castle Inn ten minutes later,had seen aright. But he had not seen all. Had he waited another minute,he would have marked a fresh actor appear at Manton Corner, would havewitnessed the _denouement_ of the scene, and had that to tell when hedescended, which must have allayed in a degree, not only the generalalarm, but Sir George's private apprehensions.
It is when the mind is braced to meet a known emergency that it fallsthe easiest prey to the unexpected. Julia was no coward. But as sheloitered along the lane beyond Preshute churchyard in the gentle hourbefore sunset, her whole being was set on the coming of the lover forwhom she waited. As she thought over the avowal she would make to him,and conned the words she would speak to him, the girl's cheeks, thoughshe believed herself alone, burned with happy blushes; her breath camemore quickly, her body swayed involuntarily in the direction whence he,who had chosen and honoured her, would come! The soft glow whichoverspread the heights, as the sun went down and left the vale to peaceand rest, was not more real or more pure than the happiness thatthrilled her. Her heart overflowed in a tender ecstasy, as she thankedGod, and her lover. In the peace that lay around her, she who hadflouted Sir George, not once or twice, who had mocked and tormentedhim, in fancy kissed his feet.
In such a mood as this she had neither eyes nor ears for aught but thecoming of her lover. When she reached the corner, jealous that none buthe should see the happy shining of her eyes--nor he until he stoodbeside her--she turned to walk back; in a luxury of anticipation. Herlot was wonderful to her. She sang in her heart that she was blessedamong women.
And then, without the least warning, the grating of a stone even, or thesound of a footstep, a violent grip encircled her waist from behind;something thick, rough, suffocating, fell on her head and eyes,enveloped and blinded her. The shock of the surprise was so great thatfor a moment breath and even the instinct of resistance failed her; andshe had been forced several steps, in what direction she had no idea,before sense and horror awoke together, and wresting herself, by thesupreme effort of an active girl, from the grasp that confined her, shefreed her mouth sufficiently to scream.
Twice and shrilly; then, before she could entirely rid her head of thefolds that blinded her, a remorseless grip closed on her neck, andanother round her waist; and choking and terrified, vainly strugglingand fighting, she felt herself pushed along. Coarse voices, imprecatingvengeance on her if she screamed, again, sounded in her ears: and thenfor a moment her course was stayed. She fancied that she heard a shout,the rush and scramble of feet in the road, new curses and imprecations.The grasp on her waist relaxed, and seizing her opportunity she strovewith the strength of despair to wrest herself from the hands that stillheld the covering over her head. Instead, she felt herself lifted up,something struck her sharply on the knee; the next moment she fellviolently and all huddled up on--it might have been the ground, for allshe knew; it really was the seat of a carriage.
The shock was no slight one, but she struggled to her feet, and heard,as she tore the covering from her head, a report as of a pistol shot.The next moment she lost her footing, and fell back. She alighted on theplace from which she had raised herself, and was not hurt. But the jolt,which had jerked her from her feet, and the subsequent motion, disclosedthe truth. Before she had entirely released her head from the folds ofthe cloak, she knew that she was in a carriage, whirled along behindswift horses; and that the peril was real, and not of the moment,momentary!
This was horror enough. But it was not all. One wild look round, and hereyes began to penetrate the gloom of the closely shut carriage--and sheshrank into her corner. She checked the rising sob that preluded a stormof rage and tears, stayed the frenzied impulse to shriek, to beat on thedoors, to do anything that might scare the villains; she sat frozen,staring, motionless. For on the seat beside her, almost touching her,was a man.
In the dim light it was not easy to make out more than his figure. Hesat huddled up in his corner, his wig awry, one hand to his face; gazingat her, she fancied, between his fingers, enjoying the play of her rage,her agitation, her disorder. He did not move or speak when shediscovered him, but in the circumstances that he was a man was enough.The violence with which she had been treated, the audacity of such anoutrage in daylight and on the highway, the closed and darkenedcarriage, the speed at which they travelled, all were grounds for alarmas serious as a woman could feel; and Julia, though she was a bravewoman, felt a sudden horror come over her. None the less was her mindmade up; if the man moved nearer to her, if he stretched out so much ashis hand towards her, she would tear his face with her fingers. She satwith them on her lap and felt them as steel to do her bidding.
The carriage rumbled on, and still he did not move. From her corner shewatched him, her eyes glittering with excitement, her breath comingquick and short. Would he never move? In truth not three minutes hadelapsed since she discovered him beside her; but it seemed to her thatshe had sat there an age watching him; ay, three ages. The light was dimand untrustworthy, stealing in through a crack here and a crevice there.The carriage swayed and shook with the speed at which it travelled. Morethan once she thought that the man's hand, which rested on the seatbeside him, a fat white hand, hateful, dubious, was moving, movingslowly and stealthily along the cushion towards her; and she waitedshuddering, a scream on her lips. The same terror which, a while before,had frozen the cry in her throat, now tried her in another way. Shelonged to speak, to shriek, to stand up, to break in one way or any waythe hideous silence, the spell that bound her. Every moment the strainon her nerves grew tenser, the fear lest she should swoon, moreimmediate, more appalling; and still the man sat in his corner,motionless, peeping at her through his fingers, leering and bidinghis time.
It was horrible, and it seemed endless. If she had had a weapon it wouldhave been better. But she had only her bare hands and her despair; andshe might swoon. At last the carriage swerved sharply to one side, andjolted over a stone; and the man lurched nearer to her, and--and moaned!
Julia drew a deep breath and leaned forward, scarcely able to believeher ears. But the man moaned again; and then, as if the shaking hadroused him from a state of stupor, sat up slowly in his corner; she saw,peering more closely at him, that he had been strangely huddled before.At last he lowered his hand from his face and disclosed his features. Itwas--her astonishment was immense--it was Mr. Thomasson!
In her surprise Julia uttered a cry. The tutor opened his eyes andlooked languidly at her; muttered something incoherent about his head,and shut his eyes again, letting his chin fall on his breast.
But the girl was in a mood only one degree removed from frenzy. Sheleaned forward and shook his arm. 'Mr. Thomasson!' she cried. 'Mr.Thomasson!'
Apparently the name and the touch were more effectual. He opened hiseyes and sat up with a start of recognition, feigned or real. On histemple just under the edge of his wig, which was awry, was a slight cut.He felt it gingerly with his fingers, glanced at them, and finding themstained with blood, shuddered. 'I am afraid--I am hurt,' he muttered.
His languor and her excitement went ill together. She doubted he waspretending, and had a hundred ill-defined, half-formed suspicions ofhim. Was it possible that he--he had dared to contrive this? Or was heemployed by others--by another? 'Who hurt you?' she cried sharply. Atleast she was not afraid of him.
He pointed in the direction of the horses. 'They did,' he said stupidly.'I saw it from the lane and ran to help you. The man I seized struckme--here. Then, I suppose they feared I should raise the country onthem. And they forced me in--I don't well remember how.'
'And that is all you know?' she cried imperiously.
His look convinced her. 'Then help me now!' she replied, risingimpetuously to her feet, and steadying herself by setting one handagainst the back of the carriage. 'Shout! Scream! Threaten them! Don'tyou see that every yard we are carrie
d puts us farther in their power?Shout!--do you hear?'
'They will murder us!' he protested faintly. His cheeks were pale; hisface wore a scared look, and he trembled visibly.
'Let them!' she answered passionately, beating on the nearest door.'Better that than be in their hands. Help! Help! Help here!'
Her shrieks rose above the rumble of the wheels and the steady tramplingof the horses; she added to the noise by kicking and beating on the doorwith the fury of a mad woman. Mr. Thomasson had had enough of violencefor that day; and shrank from anything that might bring on him the freshwrath of his captors. But a moment's reflection showed him that if heallowed himself to be carried on he would, sooner or later, find himselfface to face with Mr. Dunborough; and, in any case, that it was now hisinterest to stand by his companion; and presently he too fell toshouting and drumming on the panels. There was a quaver, indeed, in his'Help! Help!' that a little betrayed the man; but in the determinedclamour which she raised and continued to maintain, it passedwell enough.
'If we meet any one--they must hear us!' she gasped, presently, pausinga moment to take breath. 'Which way are we going?'
'Towards Calne, I think,' he answered, continuing to drum on the door inthe intervals of speech. 'In the street we must be heard.'
'Help! Help!' she screamed, still more recklessly. She was growinghoarse, and the prospect terrified her. 'Do you hear? Stop, villains!Help! Help! Help!'
'Murder!' Mr. Thomasson shouted, seconding her with voice and fist.'Murder! Murder!'
But in the last word, despite his valiant determination to throw in hislot with her, was a sudden, most audible, quaver. The carriage wasbeginning to draw up; and that which he had imperiously demanded amoment before, he now as urgently dreaded. Not so Julia; her naturalcourage had returned, and the moment the vehicle came to a standstilland the door was opened, she flung herself towards it. The next instantshe was pushed forcibly back by the muzzle of a huge horse-pistol whicha man outside clapped to her breast; while the glare of the bull's-eyelanthorn which he thrust in her face blinded her.
The man uttered the most horrid imprecations. 'You noisy slut,' hegrowled, shoving his face, hideous in its crape mask, into the coach,and speaking in a voice husky with liquor, 'will you stop your whining?Or must I blow you to pieces with my Toby? For you, you white-liveredsneak,' he continued, addressing the tutor, 'give me any more of yourpiping and I'll cut out your tongue! Who is hurting you, I'd like toknow! As for you, my fine lady, have a care of your skin, for if I pullyou out into the road it will be the worse for you! D'ye hear me? hecontinued, with a volley of savage oaths. 'A little more of your music,and I'll have you out and strip the clothes off your back! You don'thang me for nothing. D--n you, we are three miles from anywhere, and Ihave a mind to gag you, whether or no! And I will too, if you so much asopen your squeaker again!'
'Let me go,' she cried faintly. 'Let me go.'
'Oh, you will be let go fast enough--the other side of the water,' heanswered, with a villainous laugh. 'I'm bail to that. In the meantimekeep a still tongue, or it will be the worse for you! Once out ofBristol, and you may pipe as you like!'
The girl fell back in her corner with a low wail of despair. The manseeing the effect he had wrought, laughed his triumph, and in sheerbrutality passed his light once or twice across her face. Then he closedthe door with a crash and mounted; the carriage bounded forward again,and in a trice was travelling onward as rapidly as before.
Night had set in, and darkness, a darkness that could almost be felt,reigned in the interior of the chaise. Neither of the travellers couldnow see the other, though they sat within arm's length. The tutor, assoon as they were well started, and his nerves, shaken by the man'sthreats, permitted him to think of anything save his own safety, beganto wonder that his companion, who had been so forward before, did notnow speak; to look for her to speak, and to find the darkness and thissilence, which left him to feed on his fears, strangely uncomfortable.He could almost believe that she was no longer there. At length, unableto bear it longer, he spoke.
'I suppose you know,' he said--he was growing vexed with the girl whohad brought him into this peril--'who is at the bottom of this?'
She did not answer, or rather she answered only by a sudden burst ofweeping; not the light, facile weeping of a woman crossed orover-fretted, or frightened; but the convulsive heart-rending sobbing ofutter grief and abandonment.
The tutor heard, and was at first astonished, then alarmed. 'My dear,good girl, don't cry like that,' he said awkwardly. 'Don't! I--I don'tunderstand it. You--you frighten me. You--you really should not. I onlyasked you if you knew whose work this was.'
'I know! I know only too well!' she cried passionately. 'God help me!God help all women!'
Mr. Thomasson wondered whether she referred to the future and her ownfate. In that case, her complete surrender to despair seemed strange,seemed even inexplicable, in one who a few minutes before had shown aspirit above a woman's. Or did she know something that he did not know?Something that caused this sudden collapse. The thought increased hisuneasiness; the coward dreads everything, and his nerves were shaken.'Pish! pish!' he said pettishly. 'You should not give way like that! Youshould not, you must not give way!'
'And why not?' she cried, arresting her sobs. There was a ring ofexpectation in her voice, a hoping against hope. He fancied that she hadlowered her hands and was peering at him.
'Because we--we may yet contrive something' he answered lamely. 'We--wemay be rescued. Indeed--I am sure we shall be rescued,' he continued,fighting his fears as well as hers.
'And what if we are?' she cried with a passion that took him aback.'What if we are? What better am I if we are rescued? Oh, I would havedone anything for him! I would have died for him!' she continued wildly.'And he has done this for me. I would have given him all, all freely,for no return if he would have it so; and this is his requital! This isthe way he has gone to get it. Oh, vile! vile!'
Mr. Thomasson started. Metaphorically, he was no longer in the dark. Shefancied that Sir George, Sir George whom she loved, was the contriver ofthis villainy. She thought that Sir George--Sir George, her cousin--wasthe abductor; that she was being carried off, not for her own sake, butas an obstacle to be removed from his path. The conception took thetutor's breath away; he was even staggered for the moment, it agreed aswell with one part of the facts. And when an instant later his owncertain information came to his aid and showed him its unreality, and hewould have blurted out the truth--he hesitated. The words were on thetip of his tongue, the sentence was arranged, but he hesitated.
Why? Simply because he was Mr. Thomasson, and it was not in his natureto do the thing that lay before him until he had considered whether itmight not profit him to do something else. In this case the barestatement that Mr. Dunborough, and not Sir George, was the author of theoutrage, would go for little with her. If he proceeded to his reasons hemight convince her; but he would also fix himself with a fore-knowledgeof the danger--a fore-knowledge which he had not imparted to her, andwhich must sensibly detract from the merit of the service he had alreadyand undoubtedly performed.
This was a risk; and there was a farther consideration. Why give Mr.Dunborough new ground for complaint by discovering him? True, at Bristolshe would learn the truth. But if she did not reach Bristol? If theywere overtaken midway? In that case the tutor saw possibilities, if hekept his mouth shut--possibilities of profit at Mr. Dunborough's hands.
In intervals between fits of alarm--when the carriage seemed to be aboutto halt--he turned these things over. He could hear the girl weeping inher corner, quietly, but in a heart-broken manner; and continually,while he thought and she wept, and an impenetrable curtain of darknesshid the one from the other, the chaise held on its course up-hill anddown-hill, now bumping and rattling behind flying horses, and nowrumbling and straining up Yatesbury Downs.
At last he broke the silence. 'What makes you think,' he said, 'that itis Sir George has done this?'
She did
not answer or stop weeping for a while. Then, 'He was to meet meat sunset, at the Corner,' she said. 'Who else knew that I should bethere? Tell me that.'
'But if he is at the bottom of this, where is he?' he hazarded. 'If hewould play the villain with you--'
'He would play the thief,' she cried passionately, 'as he has played thehypocrite. Oh, it is vile! vile!'
'But--I don't understand,' Mr. Thomasson stammered; he was willing tohear all he could.
'His fortune, his lands, all he has in the world are mine!' she cried.'Mine! And he goes this way to recover them! But I could forgive himthat, ah, I could forgive him that, but I cannot forgive him--'
'What?' he said.
'His love!' she cried fiercely. 'That I will never forgive him! Never!'
He knew that she spoke, as she had wept, more freely for the darkness.He fancied that she was writhing on her seat, that she was tearing herhandkerchief with her hands. 'But--it may not be he,' he said after asilence broken only by the rumble of wheels and the steady trampling ofthe horses.
'It is!' she cried. 'It is!'
'It may not--'
'I say it is!' she repeated in a kind of fury of rage, shame, andimpatience. 'Do you think that I who loved him, I whom he fooled to thetop of my pride, judge him too harshly? I tell you if an angel fromheaven had witnessed against him I would have laughed the tale to scorn.But I have seen--I have seen with my own eyes. The man who came to thedoor and threatened us had lost a joint of the forefinger. Yesterday Isaw that man with _him_; I saw the hand that held the pistol to-day give_him_ a note yesterday. I saw _him_ read the note, and I saw him pointme out to the man who bore it--that he might know to-day whom he was toseize! Oh shame! Shame on him!' And she burst into fresh weeping.
At that moment the chaise, which had been proceeding for some time at amore sober pace, swerved sharply to one side; it appeared to sweep rounda corner, jolted over a rough patch of ground, and came to a stand.