THE ABDUCTION
The daring attempt to carry off this heiress and to marry her by force
proved in the end the most effective instrument in the success of Lord
Fylingdale's schemes that could possibly be desired or designed. So
great is my mistrust of the man that I have sometimes doubted whether
the whole affair was not contrived by him. I dismiss the suspicion,
however, not because it is in the least degree unworthy of his
character, but because it is unworthy of the character of Tom Rising.
To carry off a girl is not thought dishonourable, especially as it can
always be made to appear that it was with the consent of the girl
herself. But to enter into a conspiracy for the furtherance of another
man's secret designs would be impossible for such a man. Besides, his
subsequent conduct proves that he was not in any way mixed up with the
grand conspiracy of which most of the conspirators knew nothing.
The chair into which Molly stepped without suspicion, and without even
looking for the captain, who should have walked beside her, stood, as
I have said, before the entrance of the long room. Outside, the trees
were hung with coloured lamps; the place was as bright as in the
sunshine of noon--one would think that nothing could be done in such a
place which would not be observed. There is, however, one thing which
is never observed; it is the personal appearance of servants. No one
regards the boatman of the ferry; or the driver of the hackney coach;
or the postboy; or the chairmen. The chair, then, stood with its door
open opposite to the entrance of the long room. The chairmen stood
retired, a little in the shade, but not so far off as to need calling,
when Lord Fylingdale handed in the lady. This done, he stood hat in
hand, bowing. The chairmen stepped up briskly, seized the poles, and
marched off with the quick step of those who have a light burden to
carry. No one observed the faces of the chairmen, or, indeed, thought
of looking at them; no one remarked the fact that Tom Rising walked
out of the long room directly afterwards and followed the chair.
Within, Molly sat unsuspecting, excited by the triumphs of the
evening. The chair passed through the gardens and the gates recently
erected; instead of turning to the right, which would lead into
Hogman's Lane, the chairmen turned to the left, through the town gate,
and so, turning northwards, into the open fields. Yet Molly observed
nothing. I think she fell asleep; when she came to herself she looked
out of the window. On the right and on the left of her were open
fields.
It was a clear evening. Towards the middle of May there is no black
darkness, but only a dimmer outline and deeper shadows. Molly, who
knew the country round Lynn perfectly well, understood at once that
she had been carried outside the town; that she was no longer on the
high road but on one of the cross tracks--one cannot call them roads
which connect the villages--so that there was very little chance of
meeting any passengers or vehicles. And by the stars she saw that they
were carrying her in a northerly direction.
She perceived, therefore, that some devilry was going on. Now, she was
not a girl who would try to help herself in such a deserted and lonely
spot by shrieking; nor did she see that any good purpose would be
served by calling to the chairmen to let her out. She sat up,
therefore, her heart beating a little faster than usual, and
considered what she should do.
No one is ignorant that an heiress goes in continual peril of
abduction. To run away with an heiress; to persuade her; threaten her;
cajole her; or terrify her into marriage is a thing which has been
attempted hundreds of times, and has succeeded many times. Nay, there
are, I am told, women of cracked reputation and in danger of arrest
and the King's Bench for debt who will visit places of resort in order
to pass themselves off as heiresses to great fortunes, hoping thereby
to tempt some gallant adventurer to carry them off, and so to take
over their debts instead of the fortunes they expected. And there are
stories in plenty of adventurers looking about them for an heiress
whom they may carry off at the risk of a duello, which generally
follows, at the hands of the lady's friends.
Molly, therefore, though not a woman of fashion, understood by this
time her value, especially in the eyes of the adventurer. And she also
understood quite clearly at this moment that she had been carried away
without the knowledge of her guardian, and that the intention of the
abductor was nothing more or less than a forced marriage and the
acquisition of her fortune. "Jack," she told me afterwards, "I confess
that I did wish, just for a little, that you might be coming along the
road with a trusty club. But then I remembered that I was no puny
thread paper of a woman, but as strong as most men, and I took
courage. Weapon I had none, except a steel bodkin gilt stuck in my
hair--a small thing, but it might serve if any man ventured too near.
And I thought, besides, that there would be a hue and cry, and that
the country round would be scoured in all directions. They would most
certainly grow tired of carrying me about in a chair; they must stop
somewhere and put me into some place or other. I thought, also, that I
could easily manage to keep off one man, or perhaps two, and that it
would be very unlikely that more than one would attempt to force me
into marriage. Perhaps I might escape. Perhaps I might barricade
myself. Perhaps my bodkin might help me to save myself. I would
willingly stab a man to the heart with it. Perhaps I might pick up
something--a griddle would be a weapon handy for braining a man, or
even a frying pan would do. Whatever happened, Jack, I was resolved
that nothing, not even fear of murder, should make me marry the man
who had carried me off."
There are found scattered about the byroads of the country many small
inns for the accommodation of persons of the baser sort. Hither
resort, on the way from one village to another, the sturdy tramp,
whose back is scored by many a whipping at the hands of constable and
head-borough. What does he care? He hitches his shoulders and goes his
way, lifting from the hedge and helping himself from the poultry yard.
Here you may find the travelling tinker, who has a language of his
own. Here you will find the pedlar with his pack. He is part trader,
part receiver of stolen goods, part thief, part carrier of messages
and information between thieves. Here also you will meet the footpad
and the highwayman; the smuggler and the poacher, and the fugitive. If
an honest man should put up at one of these places he will meet with
strange companions in the kitchen, and with strange bedfellows in the
chamber. If they suspect that he has money they will rob him; if they
think that he will give evidence against them they will murder him. In
a word, such a wayside inn is the receptacle of all those who live by
robbery, by begging, by pretence, and lies and roguery.
It was before such a wayside inn that the chairmen stopped. Molly knew
it very well. It was at a place called Riffley's Spring; the inn is
"The Traveller's Rest"; it stood just two and a half miles from Lynn,
and one mile from the village of Wootton. It was a small house,
gloomy, and ill-lighted at the best; there was a door in the middle.
The diamond panes of the windows were mostly broken in their leaden
frames; the woodwork was decaying; the upper floor projecting darkened
the lower rooms; in the dim twilight, when the chair stopped, the
house looked a dark and noisome place, fit only for cutthroats and
murderers.
The poles were withdrawn and the door thrown open. Molly, looking out,
saw before her, hat in hand, her late partner, the young fellow they
called Tom Rising.
"Oh!" she cried. "Is it possible? I thought I was in the hands of some
highwayman. Is this your doing, sir? I was told that you were a
gentleman."
He bowed low, and began a little speech which he had prepared in
readiness:
"Madam, you will confess that you are yourself alone to blame. Fired
with the sight of so much loveliness, what wonder if I aspired to
possess myself of these charms. Sure a Laplander himself would be
warmed, even in his frozen region."
"Sir, what nonsense is this? What do you mean?"
"I mean, madam, that your lovely face and figure are sufficient
excuse, not only in the eyes of the world, but in your own eyes, for
an action such as this. The violence of the passion which----"
"Sir, will you order your fellows to take me back?"
"No, madam, I will not."
"Then, sir, will you tell me what you propose to do?"
"I intend to marry you."
"Against my consent?"
"I have you in my power. I shall ask your consent. If you grant it we
shall enter upon married life as a pair of lovers should. If you
refuse--I shall be the master, but you will be the wife."
Molly laughed. "You think that I am afraid? Very well, sir. If you
persist you shall have a lesson in love-making that will last your
lifetime."
"Everything is fair in love. Come, madam, you will please to get out
of the chair."
"What a villain is this!" said Molly. "He is in love with my fortune
and he pretends it is my person. He thinks to steal my fortune when he
runs away with me. You are a highwayman, Mr. Rising; a common thief
and a common robber. You shall be hanged outside Norwich Gaol."
Tom Rising swore a great oath, calling, in his blasphemous way, upon
the Lord to inflict dire pains and penalties upon him if he should
resign the lovely object of his affection now in his possession. You
have heard that he had the reputation of a reckless dare devil who
stuck at nothing, was daunted by nothing, and was like a bulldog for
his tenacity.
"Understand, madam," he concluded this declaration, "I am resolved to
marry you. Resolved. Bear that in mind."
"And I, sir, am resolved that I will not marry you. Resolved. Bear
that in mind."
"Never yet did I resolve upon anything but I had it. No; never yet."
"Mr. Rising, you think you have me in your power. You shall see. Once
more I ask you, as a gentleman, to send me back. Remember I have many
friends. The whole town, high and low, will be presently out after me.
scouring the country."
"In an hour you will be at Wootton. The parson hath promised to await
us there. You will be my wife in one short hour's time."
"You waste words, sir."
"You will have to alight, madam. The post-chaise is here to carry us
to Wootton, where the parson waits to marry us. In an hour, I say, you
shall be my wife."
Molly looked out of the other window. The post-chaise was there with
its pair of horses, and the postboy waiting at the horses' heads. She
would have to make her stand at once, therefore. To get into the
post-chaise with that man would be dangerous, even though she was as
strong as himself, and, since she was not a drinker of wine, she was
in a better condition.
"I looked round at the house," she told me afterwards. "I thought that
if I could get into the house I might gain some time--perhaps I could
bar the door--perhaps I could find that griddle or the frying pan of
which I spoke. Or if it came to using the bodkin, there would be more
room for my arm in a house than in a chair or a chaise. So I had one
more parley, in order to gain time, and then slipped out."
"Sir," she said, "I give you one more chance of retaining the name and
reputation of gentleman. Carry me back, or else await the vengeance of
my friends. I warn you solemnly that murder will be done before I
marry you. Understand, sir, murder of you, or your confederates, or
myself."
She spoke with so much calmness and with so much resolution that she
aroused all his native obstinacy. Besides, it was now too late. The
news of the abduction would be all over Lynn--he must carry the thing
through. He swore another loud and blasphemous oath. Heavens! how he
was punished! How swiftly and speedily!
Molly stepped out of the chair. Tom Rising, his hat in hand, again
bowed low. "Madam," he said, "you are well advised. Pray let me hand
you into the chaise."
She made no reply, but, rushing past him, darted into the house. She
stumbled down one step and found herself in a room where the twilight
outside could not penetrate. It was quite dark. She closed the door
behind her and bolted it, finding a bolt in the usual place.
Then she waited a moment, thinking what she could do next. A rustling
and a footstep showed that she was not alone.
"Who is there?" she cried. "Is there no light?"
She heard the striking of flint and steel; she saw the spluttering
yellow light of a match, and by its flickering she discerned an old
woman trying to light a candle--a rushlight in a tin frame, with holes
at the sides.
Molly looked quietly round the room. A knife lay on the table. She
took it up. It was one of the rough clasp knives, used by rustics when
they eat their dinners under the hedge. She stepped forward and took
the light from the old woman's hand.
"Quick!" she said, "who is in the house?"
"No one, except myself. He said the house was to be kept clear
to-night."
"Can they get in?"
"They can kick the house down if they like, it's so old and crazy."
"Is there an upper room?"
The old woman pointed to the far corner. Molly now perceived that the
place was the kitchen, the tap-room, the sitting-room, and all. A
table was in the middle; a settle was standing beside the fireplace;
there was a bench or two; mugs and cups of wood, pewter and common
ware stood on the mantelshelf; a side of bacon hung in the chimney. In
the corner, to which the old woman pointed, was a ladder. Molly ran
across the room. At the top of the ladder there was a square opening
large enough for her passage. She went up, and found herself, by the
dim rushlight, in an upper chamber, the floor of which was covered
with flock beds laid on the boards. There was one small frame of glass
in the roof, which was not made to open. The place reeked with foul
air, worse than the orlop deck or the hold after a voyage.
Down below she heard her captor kicking at the door. Apparently, the
old woman drew back the bolt, for he came in noisily, swearing
horribly. Apparently, the old woman pointed to the ladder, or perhaps
the glimmer from the room above guided him. He came to the ladder and
tried persuasion.
"Molly, my dear," he cried, "come down, come down. I won't harm you.
Upon my honour I will not. I want only to put you into the chaise and
carry you off to be married. Molly, you are the loveliest girl in the
county. Molly, I say, there is nobody can hold a candle to you. Molly,
I will make you as happy as the day is long. Molly, I love you ten
times as well as that proud lord. He will not marry you. There isn't a
man in all the company I will not fight for your sake. Don't think I
will let any other man have you. Damn it, Molly, why don't you
answer?"
For now she kept silence. The more he parleyed, the more time she
gained. But she found one or two loose boards that had been used for
laying in trestles for the support of the flock beds. She laid them
across the trapdoor, but there was nothing to keep them down.
Then Tom Rising began to swear at the old woman.
"You fool! You blundering, silly, jenny ass of a fool. What the devil
did you give her the candle for?"
"I didn't give it. She took it."
"Go, get another candle, then."
"There are no more candles, master," said the old woman in her feeble
voice. "She's got the only one."
"Molly, if you won't come down I shall force my way up."
Still she kept silence.
He took two steps up the ladder and lifted the boards, showing the
fingers of his left hand. Molly applied her knife, gently but
dexterously; but it touched the bone, and taught him what to expect.
He drew back with a cry of rage.
"Come down," he said, "or it will be worse for you. Come down, I say."
He had not reckoned on a knife and on the girl's courage in using it.
"Molly," he said again, more softly, "come down." She still maintained
silence.
"You have no food up there," he went on. "Your window is only a light
in the roof looking away from the road. No one from Lynn will come
this way. If they do they will see nothing. You had better come down.
Molly, I shall wait here for a month. I shall starve you out. Do you
hear? By the Lord, I will set fire to the thatch and burn you out. By
the Lord, you _shall_ come down."
So he raved and raged. Meantime the two chairmen, who were his own
servants, stood, pole in hand, one in front of the house and one
behind, to prevent an escape. But this was impossible, because the
room, as you have heard, had no other window than a small square
opening in the roof, in which was fitted a piece of coarse, common
glass.
"Jack," she told me, "when he talked of setting fire to the thatch I
confess I trembled, because, you see, my knife would not help me
there. And, indeed, I think he would have done it, because he was like
one that has gone mad with rage. He was like a mad bull. He stormed,
he raged, he cursed and swore; he called me all the names you ever
heard of--such names as the sailors call their sweethearts when they
are in a rage with them--and then he called me all the endearing
names, such as loveliest of my sex, fairest nymph, tender beauty. What
a man!"
Meantime she made no answer whatever, and the darkness and the silence
and the obstinacy of the girl were driving the unfortunate lover to a
kind of madness, and I know not what would have happened.
"Molly," he said, "willy nilly, down you come. I shall tear down the
thatch. I would burn you out, but I would not spoil your beauty. I
shall tear down the thatch, and my men shall carry you down."
Then Molly made answer.
"I have a knife in my possession. Do not think that I am afraid to use
it. The first man who lays hands on me I will kill--whether it is you
or your servants."
"That we shall see. Look ye, Molly, you are only a merchant's
daughter, and I am a gentleman. Do you think I value that compared
with marrying you? Not one whit. When we are married I will buy more
land; I will be the greatest landowner of the whole county. Sir Robert
will make me sheriff. I will go into Parliament, Molly; he will make
me a peer. Come down, I say."
But she spoke no more.
Then he lost control of himself, and for a while stamped and swore,
threatened and cursed. "You will have it, then? Here, John, go and
look for a ladder. There's always a ladder in the back yard. Put it up
against the thatch. Tear it down. Make a hole in the roof. Tear off
the whole roof."
The man propped his chair pole against the door, and went round to
look for the ladder and to obey orders.
"So," Molly told me, "I was besieged. Mr. Rising was below, but I had
my knife, and he was afraid to venture up the steps. I heard the men
clumping about outside. I heard them plant the ladder and climb up.
Now a countryman who understands a thatch is able to tear it off very
quickly, either to make or mend a hole, or to tear down the roof
altogether. And I feared that I must use my knife seriously. Was ever
woman more barbarously abused? Well--I waited. By the quick tearing
away of the straw I saw that the fellow on the ladder knew how to
thatch a rick or a cottage. In a few minutes there would be a hole big
enough for half-a-dozen men to enter. Jack," her cheek flushed and her
eye brightened. "God forgive me! But I made up my mind the moment that
man stepped within the room to plunge my knife into his heart."
If a woman's honour is dearer than her life, then surely it is more
precious than a dozen lives of those who would rob her of that
treasure.
However, this last act of defence was not necessary.
"Master," cried the postboy, who was waiting with the chaise. "Master,
here be men on horseback galloping. I doubt they are coming after the
lady."
Tom Rising stepped to the door and looked down the road. The day was
already beginning to break. He saw in the dim light a company of
horsemen galloping along the road; it was a bad road, and there had
been rain, so that the horses went heavily. They were very near; in a
few moments they would be upon him. He looked at the chaise. He made
one more effort.
"Molly," he said, "come down quick. There is just time. Let us have no
more fooling."
Again she made no reply. Knife in hand, with crimson cheek and set
lips, she watched the hole in the thatch and the man tearing it away.
Tom Rising swore again, most blasphemously. Then, seeing that the game
was lost, he loosened his sword in its scabbard and stepped into the
middle of the road.