Beshrew me but I love her heartily;
For she is wise, if I can judge of her;
And fair she is, if that mine eyes be true;
And true she is, as she has proved herself;
And therefore, like herself, wise, fair and true,
Shall she be placed in my constant soul.
MERCHANT OF VENICE.
When Catherine recovered her consciousness, or rather woke from utter
insensibility, (for it was long before her mind regained its full
tone,) she was mounted upon a horse on which she was supported by two
men, one riding on each side, who sustained her on the saddle, and
directed the steps of her palfrey. She began to speak, but her words
were wails, low and faint, and half lost amid the sough of the
breeze, and the crash of pebbles under the horses' feet; and, indeed,
it was soon apparent that she had exchanged a state of dreamless
lethargy only for one of partial delirium. To this condition she had
been fast verging for several days, during all which time, both
asleep and awake, her mind had been in a state of constant tension,
enduring jar after jar, and blow after blow, until its fraying fibres
were one by one giving way, and a few narrow threads alone were all
that kept it from the snap that ends in madness. Sleeplessness is a
disease, which sometimes is prolonged, until insanity or death puts a
close to the scene. The mind does not always slumber with the body:
and in such instances, the spirit consumes amid the visions and
dreams of night, as fast as amid the torments of day, until it lapses
into the oblivion of dissolution or mental derangement. Such had been
the case with the Captain's daughter: even slumber had brought no
release to her spirit; and the last shock, combining in effect with a
long train of benumbing influences, had reduced it to a condition in
which it hovered between imbecility and distraction.
Though retaining an impression of the scene in which she had lately
played so chief a part, it was faint, vague, and broken by other
recollections of other scenes; and though some of her accents
betrayed a childish joy at feeling herself in motion through the open
air, she was apparently incapable of forming any but the most
imperfect and bewildered conception of where she was, whither going,
and for what purpose. Occasionally, she murmured words that seemed
those of grief and entreaty; and, at such times, her father's name
was on her lips, as if she implored those riding at her side to carry
her to him. By and by, however, her words became fainter and fewer;
then she uttered sobs, and those only at intervals; and at last,
these ceasing also, she sank again into unconsciousness, and was
maintained on her seat only with the greatest difficulty.
In consequence of this unexpected impediment, the speed of the
fugitives became gradually less and less; but as they were already at
a considerable distance from the valley, and had no reason to
apprehend immediate pursuit, this circumstance created no alarm, and
was, in fact, a cause of no little private satisfaction to many, the
road being exceedingly rugged, and the night waxing darker and darker
as the moon sunk lower in the west. Suddenly, however, as the
headmost of the party toiled slowly over the crest of a hill, the
wind swept from the rear a sound of voices, followed almost instantly
by the explosion of fire-arms, and these again by loud shouts.
"'Sessa! let the world slide!'" cried the voice of Sterling, "whose
cow's dead now? So much for not killing the men, and carrying off the
women!"
"Peace, parrot!" said Oran Gilbert, lifting Catherine from her horse,
(for he was one of those who supported her,) and flinging her into
the volunteer's arms. "Bear her to the top of the hill,--nay, gallop
on till you strike the river, and"----
"Figs and furies!" cried Sterling, with drunken astonishment; "do you
make me a chamber-maid?"
"Away, fool! follow the other,--follow Dancy."
And with that, the refugee, turning his horse, galloped down the hill
towards the scene of conflict, leaving Sterling, not yet completely
sobered, to make his way after Dancy Parkins and Phoebe, who were in
full flight, as well as he could, cumbered by the weight of
Catherine, and perplexed by certain indications which White Surrey
gave of misliking the additional burthen imposed upon him.
"'Sessa, let the world slide!'" he exclaimed, "here's a coil with a
wench, dead or half-witted! Ha! she stirs!
'Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon,
Who is already sick and pale with grief.'
Shame on thee, White Surrey! hast thou no more respect for the
ladies? Now were not this the lieutenant's white-faced
Rosalind----Oons! they are at it! Well, the better part of valour
shall prevail; and so, fair soul, we'll be jogging. But where's that
bottle of brown Sherry I clapped into Tiqueraque's pocket? _Paucas
palabras!_ I will have mercy upon thee--'thou shall taste of my
bottle; if thou hast never drunk wine afore, it will go near to
remove thy fit.' 'Slife, I will be merciful, and medicinate thy lips
a little. Marry, I am 'a brave god, and bear celestial liquor.' Now,
White Surrey, my brother, handle thy legs peaceably, or I will knock
thee over the mazzard.--Fight, Hawks! and sing, Leonidas!"
The worthy volunteer, with these words, after having taken a
bountiful draught from a flagon which was the first thing he laid
hands on in the moment of assault, and sprinkling, doubtless with a
humane and generous motive, some of its contents upon the face and
lips of the maiden, gave spurs to his horse, and was soon beyond the
reach of bullets and the sound of shouts.
The commotion, such as it was, was soon over. The party of Caliver
and Falconer, urging their horses to the utmost, had suddenly, and
unexpectedly to themselves, found themselves in contact with the
stragglers of the tory band; and as these fled the moment they
observed the pursuers, the gallant officers fired their pistols and
rushed forward with renewed ardour, until checked by the opposition
of the main body. They were met with fury, and, being overpowered,
were almost instantly put to flight; after which the retreat of the
outlaws was resumed.
In the meanwhile, the shots and yells with which the contest began,
the change of position, or perhaps the wine which had been sprinkled
on her lips, woke Catherine from her torpor; and slowly collecting
her senses, she became at last sensible of her situation. Her
recollection of the events of the evening was still confused; but she
remembered enough of the bridal, and its violent termination, to know
that she was afar from her father's roof, and that each moment saw
her carried still further. She felt, too, that she was grasped in the
arms of some powerful horseman, whose character might be imagined
from the heartless, or drunken, nonchalance with which, while
supporting a fainting and almost lifeless female, and hearing the
uproar of mortal conflict just behind him, he yet trolled to the
night-air some further stanzas of that quaint, joyous, and uproarious
old ballad, of which he had given a specimen before in the paddock.
'Back and side go bare, go bare,'--
he sang,--
'Both foot and hand go cold;
But, belly, God send thee good ale enough,
Whether it be new or old.
I cannot eat but little meat,
My stomach is not good;
But sure I think that I can drink
With him that wears a hood.
Though I go bare, take ye no care,
I am nothing a-cold,--
I stuff my skin so full within
Of jolly good ale and old.
Back and side go bare,' &c.
'Now let them drink till they nod and wink,
Even as good fellows should do;
They shall not miss to have the bliss
Good ale doth bring men to:
And all poor souls that have scoured bowls,
Or have them lustily troll'd,
God save the lives of them and their wives,
Whether they be young or old!
Back and side go bare,' &c.
"Oh my father, my father!" cried Catherine, in sudden terror, "for
what dreadful fate have I given up thy love and protection?"
Her accents, feeble as they were, reached the ears of Sterling; and
ceasing his song, he looked down upon her face, saying, with a
ludicrous assumption of gravity,
"How now, fair Titania, queen of moonshine, do you speak? 'Oh, speak
again, bright angel!' So much for twenty drops of brown Sherry! these
asses did nothing but talk about cold water."
"What are you, sir? and why--why do you thus hold me?"
"Egad, for no very good reason I know, seeing that I could not hold
my own prisoner, and am but a milk-livered loon to hold the game of
young Sparrow-Hawk. Thousand devils! knew I but where to turn White
Surrey's snout, I should _exit_ by side door, and so vanish, wench
and all, were it only to give him a Roland for his Oliver."
"I know not what you mean," said Catherine, her terror restoring her
to full consciousness--"I know not what you mean," she repeated, with
increasing alarm, as the moon, peeping side-long through a rent in
the clouds, threw a level and ghastly ray on the countenance of her
supporter, revealing features which her fears converted into those of
an evil being;--"but, oh sir! I conjure you to free me. Do me no
harm,--suffer me to escape,--let me dismount, though it should be but
to die on the way-side."
Unfortunately,--not for her prayer, for no idea of granting that
could have ever entered the volunteer's brain,--but unfortunately for
the maiden herself, the same ray which revealed his visage to her
gaze fell brightly upon her own, which, although pallid as death, yet
displayed a pair of eyes to which the excitement of terror gave
unusual lustre, and which instantly converted the drunken
indifference of Sterling into admiration. He stared at her for a
moment, and then burst out, in the words of Romeo, and with an
emphasis that preserved, along with his usual dramatic extravagance
of fervour, some little touch of natural approbation,--
"'Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven,
Having some business, do entreat her eyes
To twinkle in their spheres, till they return!'
Oho, Master Brook, sweet young Hawk! never trust me if I do not take
thy minion in fair exchange for my own:--
'Follow your function, go!
And batten on cold bits.'--
Sweet and beautiful, and thrice beautiful and as many times
angelical, fair soul!" he added, addressing himself to Catherine,
"that I have so long remained insensible to thy charms, trust me, it
was in part owing to the stupidity which I find growing upon me among
the 'ruthless, vast and gloomy woods,' and in part also to the great
grief of mind with which I have been mourning the loss of another
very tenderly beloved damsel; but chiefly because thine eyes refused
their light, and yonder moon in like manner. But now, 'by yonder
blessed moon I swear,' I perceive you are ten times handsomer than
the other, ass that I was to suppose the contrary; but, however, I
was then thinking of the lieutenant and sour grapes.--Sweet,
angelical soul, you said something about escaping, and doing you
harm, and so on? Now, as to the harm, rest easy; but look as
frightened as you please,--for what's so pretty in a maid as pretty
fear? But as to escaping,--you would escape, then? go free from these
villanous, green-coated, axe-handed, ox-headed, timber-tongued Hawks
of the Hollow, eh? You would give them the slip, eh?"
"Assist me but to escape,--nay, only permit me to fly; heaven will
bless you for ever, and my father--oh, my father!--he will never
think he has sufficiently rewarded you."
Such were Catherine's eager expressions,--for although frighted at
the strange, and, to her, inexplicable apologies and commendations of
the man, she caught at his closing words as at those of a friend.
What, therefore, was her terror, when the drunken ruffian,
exclaiming, "Why then, '_Sessa_, let the world slide!' we will give
Monsieur the Hawk Junior the go-by, and roam the world together,"
added other words to make yet more plain the sudden design he had
formed of carrying her off for his own exclusive benefit, and
concluded by attempting to draw his arms more closely around her.
"Yes, thou adorable, delectable creature!" he cried, overflowing with
affection, "I am tired of these rude vagabonds, who give one nothing
to drink but brook-water, with which trout, eels, sunfish, terrapins,
and other vermin, have been making free the lord knows how long; and
beds of leaves on a rock, where one may feel snakes creeping under
him all night long. Wherefore I will decamp, and thou shalt decamp
with me, and be my love; and I will love thee to thy heart's content;
and we shall lead the merriest, drollest moonlight life of it under a
bush, that was ever dreamed of in romance or enacted in tragedy. We
will laugh and play, and drink and dance--
'Nor will we miss to have the bliss
Good ale doth bring men to'--
and will be the most loving turtles that ever cooed in a greenwood."
As he spoke, he again attempted (for White Surrey, charmed with the
melody of his master's tongue, and knowing well, when it was running,
he might take such a liberty, had changed a jog-trot into a
contemplative walk,) to cast his arms round the maid, who, now awake
to the wretchedness of her situation, uttered a shriek, and making a
sudden effort, succeeded in throwing herself to the ground; after
which, she fled away with all her speed. The object of her terror was
not slow to follow; he uttered an oath and a laugh, and leaping down,
pursued her with such vigour that he was soon at her side; for the
ground was rough with rocks and bushes, and her strength almost
immediately failed her.
It is not certain that the wretch meditated any purpose beyond the
mere recovery of his prize; for, however rude and familiar his
new-born admiration, he had hitherto betrayed no inclination to carry
it to the point of absolute rudeness. On the contrary, he seemed
rather to be enacting a part, according to his constant custom, only
that the wine he had drunk rendered him in all things more
extravagant than usual.
But harmless or not as his intentions might have been, it is certain
that the fear of them drove the unhappy Catherine to desperation, and
filled another, now fast approaching, with the most dreadful alarm.
This was Hyland Gilbert, who, hearing her cries from afar, came
rushing up in time to see her, in the dull light of the moon, drop on
her knees before the volunteer, beseeching him, in tones that might
have melted a heart of stone, to have pity on her.
"Villain! you die!" cried Hyland; and leaping from his horse, and
rushing forward, he clapped a pistol to his ear, and drew the
trigger. It flashed in the pan; but before Sterling could take
advantage of the failure, the young man dashed it in his face, and
drew another.
"Hell and darkness!" cried Sterling, furiously, "young malapert, I
will twist your neck." And seizing him by the throat, he cast him
violently to the earth. Of a joyous, and even good-humoured
temperament, there was yet a spice of devilish vindictiveness in the
man's breast; and while boiling under the indignity of the blow, and
smarting with rage at such high-handed interference in his humours by
a pragmatic boy, he did not fail to remember that this was not the
first time he had been baffled by him during the night. Besides, he
was inflamed with liquor, which was enough of itself to goad him into
any act of vengeance.
But he was not destined, that night, to shed the blood of Hyland
Gilbert. The shrieks of Catherine had been heard by others as well as
her unhappy lover, and the flash of the pistol hastened them to the
spot, where he lay struggling in the grasp of Sterling. A hand more
mighty than his own was soon laid upon Sterling's neck, and as he was
lifted aloft, and then tossed among the flints, like some mean but
vicious beast, which the hunter disdains to kill with a weapon, he
heard the voice of the tory captain exclaim,
"What, you dog! touch your officer, and a sick man!--What means all
this, Hyland? What! has he harmed the girl? If he have but touched
her with a finger----Paugh!--Away with you, men! why stand you here
gaping? On, and quickly."
The party rode on, leaving, however, besides the group already in
front, one man who led the horse on which Catherine had been mounted
before. The refugee cast a look to the maiden,--she was sobbing in
the arms of his brother. He strode to Sterling and assisted him to
rise, not however without saying, with the sternest accents of a
voice always savage,
"But that heaven, or some other power, has made me to-night cold to
blood, I should strike you, villain, where you stand!"
"You may do it," said the other, with great tranquillity. "Take your
fill to-night; we will run up the reckoning at another time."
"How, drunken fool! do you threaten me!"
"Faith, not I. Henceforth, I am a man of peace--that is, when we have
played the play out. You're a hard manager--but, now I remember, we
are not on the boards! We will forget and forgive."
"Forgive, rogue! you struck him that was feebler than a child; and
you----By heaven! if you have touched that girl but rudely, you were
better fling you into the river, than await the thanks in store for
you."
"A pest upon girls, and the devil take the whole sex!" said Sterling,
devoutly.
"Peace! and get you to your horse."
"Ay, presently," replied Sterling; and as Oran leaped on his own
black steed, Catherine having been already lifted to the saddle, he
pulled a pistol from his bosom, and aimed it at the unsuspecting
outlaw. Oran Gilbert bounded forward, and Sterling lowered his hand.
"A miss were certain death," he muttered, "and the shadow was on the
moon. '_Sessa_, let the world slide'--to-morrow comes after to-day,
and the longer we fast the richer the feast.
'Nor shall we miss to have the bliss
Good ale'----
Good ale? good devils!----
'Nor shall we miss to have the bliss
Good _blood_ doth bring men to!'--
Now were White Surrey but visible, I should know what to do: but the
beast lifted up his heels, and was gone a-larking the moment I
dismounted.----And these dogs have left me to shift for myself,
without even a horse to help me! Wisdom is at as low an ebb among
them as gratitude. Necessity and vengeance harp on the same string.
Fare thee well, Oran the Hawk; but fly as high and as wildly as thou
wilt, I see the little bee-bird that shall bring thee to the ground,
bleeding."
With these words, he sat down upon a stone, and there remained until
the tramp of the retreating horsemen was no longer brought to his
ear.