The King's Highway Part 42

"Pa.s.s on," replied the other man, dropping his pistol "you are not the person we want."

Wilton rode forward, very well contented to have escaped so easily; but he remarked that his servant was likewise stopped, and that the same questions were put to him also. He, too, was allowed to pa.s.s, however, without any molestation, and for the next half mile they went on without any further interruption. Then, however, they were met by a single horseman, riding at the same leisurely pace as the others; but he suffered Wilton to pa.s.s without speaking, and merely stopped the servant to ask, "Who is that gentleman?"

No sooner had the man given his name than the horseman turned round and rode after him, exclaiming, "Mr. Brown! Mr. Brown!"

Wilton checked his horse, and in a moment after, to his surprise, he found no other but the worthy Captain Byerly by his side.

"How do you do, Mr. Brown?" said the Captain, as he came up. "I have but a moment to speak to you, for I have business on before; but I wanted to tell you, that if you keep straight on for half a mile farther, and taking the road to the right, where you will see a finger-post, go into a cottage--that cottage there, where you can just see a light twinkling in the window over the moor--you will find some old friends of yours, whom you and I saw together the last time we met, and another one, too, who will be glad enough to see you."

"Who do you mean?" demanded Wilton, somewhat anxiously.

"I mean the Colonel," replied Captain Byerly.

"Indeed!" said Wilton. "I wish to see him very much."

"You will find him there, then," replied the other. "But he is sadly changed, poor fellow, sadly changed, indeed!"

"How so?" said Wilton. "Do you mean that he has been ill?"

"No, not exactly ill," answered Byerly, "and I don't well know what it is makes him so.--At all events, I can't stop to talk about it at present; but if you go on you will see him, and hear more about it from himself. Good night, Mr. Brown, good night: those fellows will get too far ahead of me, if I don't mind." And thus saying, he rode on.

Wilton, for his part, proceeded on his way, musing over what had occurred. It seemed to him, indeed, not a little strange, that a party of men, whose general business was hardly doubtful, should suffer him, without any knowledge of his person or any private motives for so doing, to pa.s.s them thus quietly on his way, and he was led to imagine that they must have in view some very peculiar object to account for such conduct. That object, however, was evidently considered by themselves of very great importance, and to require extraordinary precautions; for before Wilton reached the direction-post to which Byerly had referred, he pa.s.sed two more hors.e.m.e.n, one of whom was singing as he came up, but stopped immediately on perceiving the wayfarer, and demanded in a civil tone--

"Pray, sir, did you meet some gentlemen on before?"

"Yes," replied Wilton, "I did: three, and then one."

"Did they speak to you?" demanded the other.

"Yes," replied Wilton, "they asked me some questions."

"Oh, was that all?" said the man. "Good night, sir;" and on the two rode.

At the finger-post, Wilton turned from the highway; but for some time he was inclined to fancy, either that he had mistaken the direction, or that the light had been put out in the cottage window, for not the least glimmering ray could he now see. At length, on suddenly turning a belt of young planting, he found himself in front of a low but extensive and very pretty cottage, or rather perhaps it might be called two cottages joined together by a centre somewhat lower than themselves. It was more like a building of the present day than one of that epoch; and though the beautiful China rose, the sweetest ornament of our cottage doors at present, was not then known in this country, a rich spreading vine covered every part of the front with its luxuriant foliage. The light was still in the window, having only been hidden by the trees; and throwing his rein to the groom, Wilton said,--

"Perhaps we may find shelter here for the night; but I must first go in, and see."

Thus saying, he advanced and rang a bell, the handle of which he found hanging down by the door-post, and after having waited a minute or two, he heard the sound of steps coming along the pa.s.sage. The door was opened by a pretty, neat, servant girl, with a candle in her hand; but behind her stood a woman considerably advanced in life, bowed in the back, and with a stick in her hand, presenting so much altogether the same appearance which the Lady Helen Oswald had thought fit to a.s.sume in her first interview with him, that for an instant Wilton doubted whether it was or was not herself. A second glance, however, at the old woman's face, showed the withering hand of time too strongly for him to doubt any farther.

The momentary suspense had made him gaze at the old woman intently, and she had certainly done the same with regard to him. There was an expression of wonder, of doubt, and yet of joy, in her countenance, which he did not at all understand; and his surprise was still more increased, when, upon his asking whether he could there obtain shelter during the night, the woman exclaimed with a strong Irish accent, "Oh, that you shall, and welcome a thousand times!"

"But I have two horses and my groom here," replied Wilton.

"Oh, for the horses and the groom," replied the woman, "I fear me, boy, we can't take them in for ye; but he can go away up to the high road, and in half a mile he'll come to the Three Cups, where he will find good warm stabling enough."

"That will be the best way, I believe," replied Wilton; and turning back to speak with the man for a moment, he gave him directions to go to the little public house, to put up the horses, to get some repose, and to be ready to return to London at four o'clock on the following morning.

As soon as he had so done, he turned back again, and found the old lady with her head thrust into the doorway of a room on the right-hand side, saying in a loud tone--"It's himself, sure enough, though!"

The moment she had spoken, he heard an exclamation, apparently in the voice of Lord Sherbrooke; and, following a sign from the girl who had opened the door, he went in, and found the room tenanted by four persons, who had been brought together in intimate a.s.sociation, by one of the strangest of those strange combinations in which fate some times indulges.

Seated in a large arm-chair, with her cheek much paler than it had been before, but still extremely beautiful, was the lady whom we must now call Lady Sherbrooke. Her large dark eyes, full of light and l.u.s.tre, though somewhat shaded by a languid fall of the upper eyelid, were turned towards the door as Wilton entered, and her fair beautiful hand lay in that of her husband as he sat beside her.

On the opposite side of the room, with her fine face bearing but very few traces of time's withering power, and her beautiful figure falling into a line of exquisitely easy grace, sat the Lady Helen, gazing on the other two, with her arm resting on a small work-table, and her cheek supported by her hand.

Cast with apparent listlessness into a chair, somewhat behind the Lady Helen Oswald, and shaded by her figure from the light upon the table, was the powerful form of our old acquaintance Green. But there was in the whole att.i.tude which he had a.s.sumed an apathy, a weary sort of thoughtfulness, which struck Wilton very much the moment he beheld him. Green's eyes, indeed, were raised to mark the opening door, but still there was a gloomy want of interest in their glance which was utterly unlike the quick and sparkling vivacity which had characterized them in former times.

The first who spoke was Lord Sherbrooke, who, still holding Caroline's hand in his, held out the other to his friend, saying, in a tone of some feeling, but at the same time of feeling decidedly melancholy, "This is a sight that will give you pleasure, Wilton."

"It is, indeed, my dear Sherbrooke," replied Wilton; "only I do wish that it had been rendered more pleasant still, by seeing no remaining trace of illness in this lady's face."

"I am better, sir, much better," she said; "for my recovery has been certain and uninterrupted, though somewhat long. If I could but teach your friend to bear a little adversity as unrepining as I have borne sickness, we might be very happy. I am very glad, indeed, to see you, sir," she continued; "for you must know, that this is my house that you are in," and she smiled gaily as she spoke: "but though I should always have been happy to welcome you as Sherbrooke's friend, yet I do so more gladly now, as it gives me the opportunity of thanking you for all the care and kindness that you showed me upon a late occasion."

Though Wilton had his heart too full of painful memories to speak cheerfully upon any subject, yet he said all that was courteous, and all that was kind; and, as it were to force himself to show an interest, which he would more really have experienced at another moment, he added, "I often wished to know how the sad adventures of that night ended."

The lady coloured; but he instantly continued, "I mean what was the result, when the constables, and other people, visited the house. I knew that Sherbrooke's very name was sufficient to protect him, and all in whom he had an interest, and therefore I took no steps in the matter; but I much wished to hear what followed after I had left the place, though, as Sherbrooke said nothing, I did not like to question him."

"You have questioned me on deeper subjects than that, Wilton,"

replied Lord Sherbrooke.--"But the matter that you speak of was easily settled. The constables found no one in the house but Plessis, myself, these two ladies, and some humbler women. It so happened, however, that I was known to one of the men, who had been a coachman in my father's service, and had thriven, till he had grown--into a baker, of all earthly things. As to Plessis, no inquiries were made, as there was not a constable amongst them who had not an occasional advantage, by his 'little commerce,' as he calls it; and the ladies of course pa.s.sed unscathed, though the searching of the house, which at the time we could not rightly account for, till Plessis afterwards explained the whole, alarmed my poor Caroline, and, I think, did her no small harm. But look you, Wilton, there is your good friend, and mine, on the other side of the room, rousing himself from his reverie, to speak with you. Ay! and one who must have a share in your greetings, also, though, with the unrivalled patience which has marked her life, she waits till all have done."

Wilton crossed over the room, and spoke a few words to the Lady Helen Oswald; and then turning to Green, he held out his hand to him; but the greeting of the latter was still somewhat abstracted and gloomy.

"Ha! Wilton," he said. "What brought you hither this night, my good boy? You are on your way to Somersbury, I suppose."

"No," replied Wilton; "I have just come thence."

"Indeed!" said Green. "Indeed! How happens that, I wonder? Did you meet any of my men? Indeed you must have met them, if you come from Somersbury."

"I met several men on horseback," replied Wilton; "one party of whom, three in number, stopped me, and asked me several questions."

"They offered no violence? They offered no violence?" repeated Green, eagerly.

"None," answered Wilton; "though I suppose, if I had not answered their questions satisfactorily, they would have done so, as they seemed very fit persons for such proceedings. But I was in hopes,"

he continued, "that all this had gone by with you, and that such dangerous adventures were no more thought of."

"I wish I had never thought of any still more dangerous," replied Green; "I should not have the faces looking at me that now disturb my sleep. But this is not my adventure," he continued, "but his--his sitting opposite there. I have nothing to do with it, but a.s.sisting him."

"Yes, indeed, my dear Wilton," replied Lord Sherbrooke, "the adventure is mine. All other trades failing, and having exhausted every other mad prank but that, I am taking a turn upon the King's Highway, which has become far more fas.h.i.+onable now-a-days than the Park, the puppet-show, or even Const.i.tution Hill."

"Nay, nay, Henry!" exclaimed his wife, interrupting him, "I will not hear you malign yourself in that way. He is not taking a turn upon the King's Highway, sir, for here he sits, bodily, I trust, beside his wife; and if the spirit have anything to do with the adventure that he talks of, the motive is a n.o.ble one--the object is not what he says."

"Hush, hush, Caroline," replied Lord Sherbrooke; "you will make Wilton believe, first, that I am sane; next, that I am virtuous; and, lastly, that I love any woman sufficiently to submit to her contradicting me; things which I have been labouring hard for months to make him think impossible."

"He knows, sir," said Green, interrupting him, "that you are generous, and that you are kind, though he does not yet know to what extent."

"I believe he knows me better than any man now living," replied Lord Sherbrooke; "but it happens somewhat inopportunely that he should be here to-night.--Hark, Colonel! There is even now the galloping of a horse round to the back of the house. Let you and I go into the other room, and see what booty our comrade has brought back."

He spoke with one of his gay but uncertain smiles, while Green's eyes sparkled with some of the brightness of former times, as he listened eagerly, to make sure that Lord Sherbrooke's ear had not deceived him.