THE PUNISHMENT
The postboy, foreseeing events which might require a clear stage,
warily drew his chaise off the road, which here widened into a small
area trodden flat by many feet, into the grassy field at the side, and
stood at his horses' heads in readiness.
The men on the ladder, who were pulling away at the thatch with zeal,
stopped their work. "What's that, George?" asked one. "Seems like
horses. They're coming after the young lady, likely;" so he slid down
the ladder followed by the other, and they ran round to the front,
seizing their poles in case of need. At elections, and on the occasion
of a street fight, the chairman's pole has often proved a very
efficient weapon. Handled with dexterity it is like a quarter staff,
but heavier, and will not only stun a man, but will brain him, or
break arm, leg, or ribs for him.
"For my part," Molly told me, "I saw them suddenly desist from their
work, though in a few minutes the hole in the thatch would have been
large enough to admit of a man's passing through. I was waiting
within, knife in hand. Do you think I would have suffered one of those
fellows to lay hand upon me? Well, in the midst of their work they
stopped, they listened, and they stepped down the ladder. What did
this mean? There was no window to the loft except a single frame with
half-a-dozen small diamond shaped panes too high up to serve any
purpose except to admit a little light. I put my head through the hole
in the thatch. And I heard--imagine my joy--the clatter of horses and
the voices of the horsemen. And then I knew, and was quite certain,
that my rescue had arrived. 'Jack,' I said to myself, 'has found out
the way taken by this villain, and is riding after him.'"
Alas! I, who should have been riding in the front of all, was at that
moment unconsciously sleeping in my bunk aboard _The Lady of Lynn_.
"I thought that at such a moment Mr. Rising would be wholly occupied
with defending himself. I therefore withdrew the boards from the top
of the stair and looked down. No one was in the room below, that I
could see. I cautiously descended. In the corner of the settle by the
fireplace there was the old woman of the house.
"'They are coming after you, Missy,' she said. 'I knew how it would
end. I warned him. I told him that everything was against it. I read
his luck by the cards and by the magpies, and by the swallows.
Everything was against it. They are coming. Hark! They are very close
now, and they will kill him!'
"I ran to the open door. Mr. Rising was in the middle of the road
without his hat, his sword in his hand; behind him stood his chairmen.
He was not going to give me up without a fight. The postboy had drawn
the chaise into the field, and the sedan chair was standing beside it.
And down the road, only a little way off, I saw, in the growing light
of daybreak, Lord Fylingdale leading, the captain beside him, and
half-a-dozen gentlemen following, all on horseback."
"There she is! There is Molly!" cried the captain. "What cheer, lass?
What cheer?"
Lord Fylingdale held up his hand. The whole party drew rein and
halted. Then their leader dismounted. They were now about twenty yards
from the men. He threw his reins to the nearest of the little troop.
"Gentlemen," he said, "we must proceed with this business without
hurry or bluster, or threats. Mr. Rising will, perhaps, threaten and
bluster. We are here to rescue a lady and to punish a villain. Let
both be done without the appearance of wrath or revenge. Captain
Crowle, do not dismount, I entreat you, until the conclusion of the
next act. Miss Molly is, as you see, apparently safe and unhurt."
They obeyed.
"I shall now measure swords with the young gentleman who thinks that
he can carry off heiresses with impunity. I would advise you to
advance a little closer to the house. He must understand that
punishment awaits him, if not from me, then from some other of this
company."
"Look at Tom," said one of them. "His blood is up. He is now all for
fighting. He means mischief, if ever he has meant mischief. I remember
at Swaffham when he fought the young squire of Headingley. That was
about a girl, too. A mere worthless drab of a tavern servant. Tom
broke down the man's guard and ran him through in half a minute. I
wish we were well out of this job."
Tom stood in the road, as I have said, his sword in his hand, his hat
lying on the ground before him. If flaming cheeks and eyes as fiery as
those of a bull brought to bay mean mischief, then Tom's intention was
murderous.
"To thwart Tom in anything," the gentleman went on, "is dangerous; but
to take away his girl--and such a girl--to rob him of that great
fortune just at the moment of success--would madden the mildest of
men. He looks like a madman. Should one warn his lordship? And he has
got two chairmen with their poles in readiness. We should ride in upon
them before they can do any mischief." So they whispered.
Said Captain Crowle: "Kill him, my lord; kill the villain. Kill him."
"Let me warn your lordship," said the gentleman who had last spoken,
"his method will be a fierce attack; he will try to break down your
guard."
"I know that method," Lord Fylingdale replied, coldly. Then he stepped
forward and took off his hat. "Mr. Rising," he said, "this affair
might very well be settled by two or three sailors or common porters.
We are willing, however, to treat you as a gentleman, which, sir, you
no longer deserve."
"Go on, go on," said Tom. "'Twill be all the same in five minutes."
"I am therefore going to do you the honour of fighting you."
"I shall show you how I appreciate that honour. Stop talking, man, and
begin."
"I must, however, warn you that if you are to fight as a gentleman you
must try to behave as one, for this occasion only. Should you attempt
any kind of treachery my friends will interfere. In that case you will
certainly not leave the field alive."
"What do you want then?"
"You must send away those two hulking fellows behind you. I am willing
to fight you with swords, but I am not going to fight your lackeys
with clubs."
Tom turned round. "Here, you fellows, get off. Go and stand beside the
chair. Whatever happens don't interfere. Well, my lord, the sooner
this comes off the better."
He laid down his sword and took off coat and waistcoat, turning up the
sleeve of his right arm. Then he turned to Molly and saluted her.
"Mistress Molly," he said, with a grin, "you are going to have a very
fine sight. Perhaps, when it is over you will be sorry for your
shilly-shally stand off--no, I won't say it. You're not worth carrying
off. If I'd known. Now, my lord."
Lord Fylingdale had also removed his coat and waistcoat, and now stood
in his shirt, with the sleeves rolled up, hat-less.
Just at that moment the sun rose swiftly, as is his manner in this
flat country. It was as if the sky had leaped into light in order to
give these swordsmen a clearer view of each other. They were a strange
contrast. Molly's champion erect, pale, and calm; his adversary bent,
as if with passion, grasping his sword with eager hand.
"He means mischief," repeated the gentlemen of the troop. "I would
this business was ended. I wonder if the noble lord can fight. He does
not look afraid, anyhow."
"He looks as if he could feel neither fear nor anger, nor love, nor
any passion at all. He is an iceberg. Ha! they are beginning."
They faced each other.
The swords crossed. "Look to yourself," said Tom. "I will spit you
like a pigeon."
He stamped and lunged. The thrust was parried, easily and lightly. Tom
lunged again, and again, with a slight turn of the wrist, the thrust
was parried. But as yet Lord Fylingdale seemed to stand on the
defensive.
"He knows how to fence," they whispered. "See! he means to tire his
adversary. He parries everything. Tom thrusts like a madman. Why, he
exposes himself at every lunge. See! he has lost his head. One would
think he was fighting with an automaton who could only parry."
At the door stood the object and cause of the encounter, the girl,
namely, who had brought all this trouble upon Tom Rising's head. She
stood motionless, hardly breathing, watching the duel, as they say the
Roman women used to watch the fight of the gladiators in the
amphitheatre, and as I have seen the Spanish women watch the men who
fight the bull in their circus. I believe that women, in spite of
their tender hearts, are carried away out of themselves by the sight
of mere fighting. It is a spectacle which they cannot choose but gaze
upon; it shows the true nature of man as opposed to that of woman. He
stands up and risks his life, trusting sometimes to his skill, as in a
duel with swords, and sometimes to chance, as on a battlefield where
the bullets are flying. Molly, therefore, watched the fight with
gleaming eyes and parted lips. She was almost ready to forgive the man
who had attempted this injury for the sake of his courage, and she
could not sufficiently admire his adversary for the cold and impassive
way in which he met every furious attack, just with a simple turn of
the wrist, as it seemed to her.
Tom was a strong and lusty fellow, and he could fight after his
fashion, which was with thrust upon thrust, fast and furious, as if
reckless of himself, so that he could engage his adversary wholly in
defence until he found a moment of weakness.
He had fought many times, and hitherto without a scratch or a wound,
the fight always ending with his adversary lying prostrate before him.
On this occasion, however, he found that every thrust was parried;
that his adversary yielded not so much as an inch of ground, and that
he had to do with a wrist of iron and the eye of a hawk.
"Jack!" said Molly. "I hope that I desired not the death of the young
man. But I did desire his defeat. It was splendid to see him stamping
on the ground and attacking like lightning. But it was more splendid
to see his adversary immovable. He stood like a rock; he showed
neither passion nor excitement. He parried every thrust with just a
turn of his wrist."
The gentlemen on horseback closed in and looked on holding their
breath. There was no longer any fear on account of their champion. For
the first time in their lives they saw as fine a master of fence as
ever came out of the schools of Paris. Meantime, the other man was as
one maddened. He drew back; he roared like a bull; he rushed upon his
enemy; he panted and gasped; but he continued the fight undaunted.
Suddenly, his sword flew out of his hand, and fell in the field beside
the chaise.
"Pick up your master's sword," Lord Fylingdale ordered the chairmen.
The spectators looked to see Tom run through on the spot. On the
contrary, Lord Fylingdale remained in his attitude of defence; he was
playing with his enemy. "Take your sword," he said. "You are at my
mercy. But take your sword, man; we have only just begun."
Tom received his sword, and wiped off the mud upon his shirt. Then he
renewed the attack; but it was with less confidence. That one should
refuse to finish the duel when he had disarmed his adversary was a
thing beyond his experience.
"Tom is dashed," said one of the company. "It is all over with Tom."
It was. After a few more lunges, parried with the same quiet skill and
calmness of manner, Tom's sword once more flew out of his hand. Then
the duel was over, for Lord Fylingdale made one thrust and his sword
passed clean through the right arm at the shoulder, passing out at the
other side. Tom reeled; one of his chairmen ran to his help, and he
fell upon the ground, fainting in a small pool of blood.
Lord Fylingdale paid no attention to him. He wiped his sword on the
grass, replaced it in the scabbard, and put on his coat and waistcoat.
This done, he advanced to Molly.
"Madam," he said, "we are fortunate, indeed, in being able to effect a
rescue. This is not a place for a lady, nor is this a sight that one
would willingly offer you. I trust that no violence has been used."
"I thank your lordship. It was a horrid sight. Oh! do not let the poor
man die. He is a villain, but he has failed. Be merciful."
Then the captain came running up. "Molly!" he cried, with the tears
running down his face. "Molly! We are not too late? They haven't
married you? The villain is paid. He is paid, I take it. He hasn't
married you yet? By the Lord, if he has I will brain him with my
cudgel, so you shall be a widow as soon as a wife."
"Captain, can you ask me? The man had a chaise waiting here and would
have forced me into it; but I ran into the house, and so to the upper
floor, whither he could not follow. He set his men to pull off the
thatch. What he would have done next I know not. But I could defend
myself."
"What is that in your hand, Molly?"
It was the knife, which she still held in readiness. She threw it
away. "I shall not need it now," she said. "What do you think I should
have done with it?"
"Molly, I know what you would have done. I said that there was no man
in England who could marry you against your will. It was his heart and
not his shoulder that would have received the knife. My dear, I knew
my Molly. I knew my girl."
Then the other gentlemen crowded round, offering their
congratulations, no one taking the least notice of the unlucky Tom,
who still lay pale and bleeding on the ground.
It was Lord Fylingdale who came to his assistance. "Here, fellows," he
ordered the chairmen, "take up your master and put him in the
chaise--so. And as for you," he addressed the postboy, "here is a
guinea. Drive as fast as you can back to Lynn. Put him to bed in his
lodgings and send for a surgeon or a wise woman, or some one to look
after the wound."
"Will he die?" asked one of the bystanders.
"I should think it not unlikely. His wound is dangerous, and if I know
anything about a man from his appearance I should say that he would be
inclined to fever. But we are not concerned with his fate. Whether he
dies or lives, he has attempted a villainous act and has met with a
fitting punishment."
The carriage, with the wounded man in it, went rattling along the
road, the jerks and bumps among the ruts being enough to keep the
wound open and the blood flowing.
Then Lord Fylingdale called the chairmen. "Who are you?" he asked. "Do
you belong to the town of Lynn?"
They looked at each other. Then one said, "No; we be from Swaffham.
Squire Rising sent for us to do his job."
"Put in your poles. You must now carry the lady back."
"We have done our work," said his lordship. "It remains for us to
escort Miss Molly home again. Madam, you can leave this foul den with
the consciousness that you are avenged."
"Indeed, I want no revenge."
"Justice has been done. Justice is not revenge. You can now, madam, go
back in the chair in which you were brought here. The villain who made
the attempt is already on his way back. Since you desire mercy rather
than revenge we must hope that his wound is not fatal."
So Molly reëntered the chair. Then she was brought home in triumph.
The captain rode on one side; her champion on the other; before and
behind her rode her mounted escort. If she had been a queen they could
not have shown her greater deference and respect.