|Mrs. Calveriey had a very pretty pony phaeton, which she was accustomed
to drive herself. Easy as a lounging-chair, and with the two long-tailed
bay ponies attached to it, the luxurious little vehicle formed a very
nice turn-out.
One fine morning, about a week after Sir Bridgnorth's visit, Mrs.
Calverley and Mildred set out in the pony phaeton with the intention of
calling on Lady Barfleur and her daughter, at Brackley Hall, which was
about six or seven miles from Ouselcroft.
Usually, they were attended by a groom, but on this particular occasion
he was left at home.
The ponies were full of spirit, and eager to get on, but the ladies
would not indulge them, and proceeded quietly along the pleasant lanes,
through a rich and fertile district, abounding in farms, where some of
the best cheeses in the county are made.
To reach Brackley Hall, however, they had to cross an extensive heath, a
great part of which was very wild and marshy.
But this brown and uncultivated tract, where turf alone was cut, and
where there were two or three dangerous swamps, offered the charm of
contrast to the rich meadows they had just quitted. Here there were no
farm-houses, no cow-sheds, no large bams, no orchards; but the air
was fresh and pleasant, and lighted up by the brilliant sunshine, even
Brackley Heath looked well. At least, our fair friends thought so, and
the ponies were compelled to walk in consequence. Yet there was nothing
remarkable in the prospect, as the reader shall judge. The whole scene
owed its charm to the fine weather.
On the left the heath was bordered by the woods belonging to Brackley
Hall, and, through a break in them, the upper part of the fine old
timber and plaster mansion could be descried.
On the right the country was flat and uninteresting, planted in places
by rows of tall poplars, and a canal ran through it, communicating with
the River Mersey.
In front, but at some distance, rose a hill crowned by the ruins of
an old castle, and having a small village and grey old church in the
immediate neighbourhood.
In bad weather the heath had a dreary and desolate aspect. Here and
there a hut could be perceived, but these miserable habitations were
far removed from the road, and might have been deserted, since no smoke
issued from them, and nothing could be seen of their occupants. A few
sheep were scattered about in spots where the turf was covered with
herbage; but they seemed wholly untended. Rooks there were in flocks
from Brackley Park, plovers, and starlings. Even seagulls found their
way to the morass.
While the ladies were contemplating this scene, which they thought
highly picturesque, and commenting upon its beauties, they were
startled, and indeed terrified, by the sudden appearance of two
formidable-looking fellows, who had been watching their approach from
behind an aged and almost branchless oak that grew near the road.
Evidently, from their peculiar garb, tawny skin, black eyes, and raven
locks, these individuals were gipsies. They did not leave their purpose
in doubt for a moment, but rushing towards the ladies with threatening
gestures, shouted to them to stop.
Mrs. Calverley tried to whip on the ponies, but before they could start
off they were checked by one of the gipsies, who seized the reins, while
his comrade, addressing Mrs. Calverley, demanded her whip, and, as she
hesitated to give it up, he snatched it from her, and threw it on the
ground.
“Excuse my freedom, my lady,” he said, in accents meant to be polite,
but that sounded gruff and menacing. “We can't allow you to go till
we've had some talk with you; but we won't detain you longer nor we can
help. We wants any money you may have about you, together with
ornaments, rings, watches, ear-rings, and sich like. Deliver 'em up
quietly, and you won't be molested--will they, Ekiel?”
“No,” replied the other ruffian, who stood at the heads of the
ponies. “It would hurt our feelin's to use wiolence to two sich lovely
creaters.”
Meanwhile, Mildred, who wished to preserve her watch, which had been
given her by her father, was trying to detach it from the guard, but
could not accomplish her object without attracting the attention of the
gipsy near Mrs. Calverley.
Dashing round to the other side of the carriage, he caught hold of the
chain, and broke it, but failed to secure the watch.
Mildred screamed loudly, though she had little expectation of help.
“Look quick, Clynch!” shouted Ekiel, in a warning voice.
“Give me the watch without more ado!” cried the gipsy to Mildred.
But she spread her hands over it, and redoubled her outcries.
“Here, take my purse and begone!” said Mrs. Calverley.
“Thank ye, my lady,” rejoined Clynch, quickly appropriating the purse.
“But that's not enough. We must have everything you've got about you!”
“You shall have nothing more, fellow!” cried Mrs. Calverley, with great
spirit. “And see! assistance is at hand! If you stay a minute longer you
will be caught!”
And, as she spoke, a gentleman was seen galloping towards them, followed
by a groom.
Baulked of their prey, the gipsies ran off, and made for the morass,
with the intricacies of which they seemed well acquainted.
A minute or so afterwards their deliverer came up. A fine-looking young
man, between twenty and thirty, and having decidedly a military air, but
a stranger to them both.