THE RENCOUNTER.
Catesby himself could scarcely tell how he accomplished his hair-breadth
escape. Reckless almost of the result, he slided down the rock, catching
at occasional irregularities as he descended. The river was of great
depth at this point, and broke the force of his fall. On rising, he
struck out a few yards, and suffered himself to be carried down the
stream. He had never for one moment relinquished his hold of Garnet, and
being an admirable swimmer, found little difficulty in sustaining him
with one arm, while with the other he guided his course in the water. In
this way he reached the shore in safety, about a hundred yards below the
bridge, by which means he avoided his pursuers, who, as has just been
stated, searched for him above it.
After debating with himself for a short time as to what course he should
pursue, he decided upon conveying Garnet to the Hall, where he could
procure restoratives and assistance; and though he was fully sensible of
the danger of this plan, not doubting the mansion would be visited and
searched by his pursuers before morning, yet the necessity of warning
Guy Fawkes outweighed every other consideration. Accordingly, again
shouldering the priest, who, though he had regained his sensibility, was
utterly unable to move, he commenced his toilsome march; and being
frequently obliged to pause and rest himself, more than an hour elapsed
before he reached his destination.
It was just growing light as he crossed the drawbridge, and seeing a
horse tied to a tree, and the gate open, he began to fear the enemy had
preceded him. Full of misgiving, he laid Garnet upon a heap of straw in
an outbuilding, and entered the house. He found no one below, though he
glanced into each room. He then noiselessly ascended the stairs, with
the intention of proceeding to Guy Fawkes's chamber.
As he traversed the gallery, he heard voices in one of the chambers, the
door of which was ajar, and pausing to listen, distinguished the tones
of Viviana. Filled with astonishment, he was about to enter the room to
inquire by what means she had reached the Hall, when he was arrested by
the voice of her companion. It was that of Humphrey Chetham. Maddened by
jealousy, Catesby's first impulse was to rush into the room, and stab
his rival in the presence of his mistress. But he restrained his passion
by a powerful effort.
After listening for a few minutes intently to their conversation, he
found that Chetham was taking leave, and creeping softly down-stairs,
stationed himself in the hall, through which he knew his rival must
necessarily pass. Chetham presently appeared. His manner was dejected;
his looks downcast; and he would have passed Catesby without observing
him, if the latter had not laid his hand upon his shoulder.
"Mr. Catesby!" exclaimed the young merchant, starting as he beheld the
stern glance fixed upon him "I thought----"
"You thought I was a prisoner, no doubt," interrupted Catesby, bitterly.
"But you are mistaken. I am here to confound you and your juggling and
treacherous associate."
"I do not understand you," replied Chetham.
"I will soon make myself intelligible," retorted Catesby. "Follow me to
the garden."
"I perceive your purpose, Mr. Catesby," replied Chetham, calmly; "but it
is no part of my principles to expose my life to ruffianly violence. If
you choose to lay aside this insolent demeanour, which is more befitting
an Alsatian bully than a gentleman, I will readily give you such
explanation of my conduct as will fully content you, and satisfy you
that any suspicions you may entertain of me are unfounded."
"Coward!" exclaimed Catesby, striking him. "I want no explanation.
Defend yourself, or I will treat you with still greater indignity."
"Lead on, then," cried Chetham: "I would have avoided the quarrel if I
could. But this outrage shall not pass unpunished."
As they quitted the hall, Viviana entered it; and, though she was
greatly surprised by the appearance of Catesby, his furious gestures
left her in no doubt as to his purpose. She called to him to stop. But
no attention was paid by either party to her cries.
[Illustration: _Guy Fawkes protecting Humphrey Chetham from Catesby._]
On gaining a retired spot beneath the trees, Catesby, without giving his
antagonist time to divest himself of the heavy horseman's cloak with
which he was encumbered, and scarcely to draw his sword, assaulted him.
The combat was furious on both sides, but it was evident that the young
merchant was no match for his adversary. He maintained his ground,
however, for some time with great resolution; but, being hotly pressed,
in retreating to avoid a thrust, his foot caught in the long grass, and
he fell. Catesby would have passed his sword through his body, if it
had not been turned aside by another weapon. It was that of Guy
Fawkes, who, followed by Martin Heydocke, had staggered towards the
scene of strife, reaching it just in time to save the life of Humphrey
Chetham.
"Heaven be praised! I am not too late!" he exclaimed. "Put up your
blade, Catesby; or, turn it against me."