MY COUSIN TONY.
"Under the roof of his home," says a pleasing writer, "the boy feels
_safe_; and where in the whole realm of life, with its bitter toils
and its bitterer temptations, will he ever feel _safe_ again?"
I had no roof-tree--I had never felt this charming safety or
security--this sublime knowledge of home, and keenly came this
conviction to my heart, as I walked on that dark February night along
the solitary highway, with the rain plashing in my face; for now, as
if to add to the misery of my situation, the clouds had gathered in
heaven and the rain fell heavily.
An old fir-tree with its thick dark foliage sheltered me for a time.
Towards daybreak the weather became fair, and after sleeping for some
hours in a hayrick, I set forward again. I knew that I must present
but a sorry figure, but cared not. I was always a lover of effect,
and hoped it might aid me in my purpose, which was to urge Sir Basil
to make some fitting provision for me.
Alas! I was ignorant that he had actually written to Nathan Wylie,
desiring that the pittance allowed me should be withdrawn, and that
he was to turn me adrift for ever. The old minister of Netherwood,
who was with him when this severe answer was despatched, besought him
to "be clement, and to remember that he too had once been young."
"Yes," growled the gruff baronet, "but it is so very long ago that I
have forgotten all about it. Zounds!" he added, flourishing his
crutch, and smashing a wine decanter, "I'll make that young dog smart
for this, as I made his father smart before him!"
His orders Mr. Nathan Wylie would cheerfully have obeyed; but in the
end I may show how the lawyer, even in the matter of the will,
_outwitted himself_, as he might, but for his hatred of my father's
memory, and his slavish obsequiousness to Sir Basil, have made little
Ruth one day Lady of Netherwood, and me, perhaps, his friend for ever.
On that dull February eve I knew nothing of all this, and so trod on
for several miles with hope in my breast--hope that I might stir some
chord of sympathy in the withered heart of Sir Basil; but when I drew
near Netherwood, and saw its copper vanes and antique turrets shining
above the trees, my spirit failed me, and I thought with just
indignation of my favoured cousin Tony, of his probable mockery at
the sorry figure I presented, and the quiet insolence of the
domestics; so I sat by the wayside inspired only by that bitterness
and irresolution which I have described in the opening of my story.
To Nathan Wylie's house I would never return.
I sorrowed for poor Ruth, the sweet companion of so many stolen
interviews--the secret love of my boyish heart. But to what end was
this sorrow? Marriage and the responsibilities of life had never
occurred to me. I felt, like a boy, that I loved Ruth dearly, and
that was all.
I would go away somewhere--where, it mattered not; I would seek a
path for myself; another time--a year hence, perhaps--I would come
back and see Ruth again, if Fortune smiled on me. And with such
thoughts as these, my sadness and dejection gave place to the springy
and joyous conviction of a young heart--that I was free--absolutely
FREE--the master of my own person--the arbiter of my own destiny!
The wide world was all before me, and to leave care and trouble
behind should be now my task and duty.
How was this to be achieved? I was the possessor only of a shilling;
but greater men than I have begun the world with less.
As these ideas occurred to me, I perceived in the twilight a
gentleman with two valets in livery, all well mounted, coming along
the road with their nags at a trot. He wore a green sporting suit,
with large gilt buttons, yellow buckskin breeches, a jockey cap, and
carried a heavy hunting-whip.
As the two valets were not riding behind, but were abreast with their
master, and conversing with him in loud and noisy familiarity, I soon
recognised my cousin Tony the Foxhunter, an interview with whom I
would fain have avoided; but he knew me at once, and came brusquely
up, checking his horse, with foam upon its bit, so close to me, that
I was nearly knocked over.
"Zounds, cousin Basil!" said he, insolently, and in the hearing of
his valets, "you are in a fine scrape now!"
"How, sir?" said I, sourly.
"So you have levanted from old Wylie's--or been turned adrift--'tis
all one, for making love to his niece--eh--is this true?"
"I have no confidences to make to you, sir," said I, haughtily, for
the idea that I had placed Ruth--she so innocent and pure--in a
position so false, filled me with remorse and rage.
"No confidences," stammered Tony; "eh--damme?"
"None."
"Oh, it is of no use denying it; we have just ridden from old Wylie's
this morning. We don't blame you for making love to the girl--she is
deuced pretty, and we all agreed it was just what we should have done
ourselves."
"_We_--who do you speak of?"
"Why, Tom, Dick, and myself," he replied, pointing to his servants;
"and no bad judges either of the points and paces of a woman or a
horse."
"Rein back from the footpath if you please, Mr. Gauntlet, and permit
me to pass," I added, for he had me completely hemmed against a hedge.
"Well, but what are you going, to do _now_, for we can have no
onhangers idling about Netherwood Hall?" he exclaimed, imperiously.
Instead of replying, I took his horse by the bridle, thrust its head
aside, and passed disdainfully on, for I saw that he had been dining,
and was flushed alike with wine and insolence. Anthony was four
years older than I, and had seen much more of the world; yet, so far
as education or accomplishments were concerned, this pet of my
grandfather was nearly as ignorant as the grooms and stable-boys who
were his constant companions and chosen friends, and who, in those
capacities, fleeced him of large sums on the turf, in the tavern, and
at the gaming-table.
"Did you hear me speak, fellow?" he thundered out, with an oath,
while urging his horse close behind me, as if to ride me down.
Instead of turning, I quickened my pace; but he and his grooms put
spur to their nags and followed me.
"S'blood!" exclaimed Tony, "but this will make you _feel_ if you
cannot hear me!" and he dealt me a heavy lash across the shoulders
with his hunting-whip.
With all the strength and fury that a long sense of unmerited wrong,
hardship, neglect, and opprobrium could inspire, I rushed upon this
usurper of my patrimony, and in a moment he was torn from his saddle
and stretched upon the highway. I wrenched away his whip, and,
twisting the lash round my wrist, beat him soundly with the handle.
Being stronger than I, he scrambled up, with his green coat covered
with dust and his features inflamed by rage; he closed with me,
swearing frightfully, while his two mounted followers assailed me in
the rear with their clubbed whips.
"Lay on, Dick! lay on, Tom!" he cried repeatedly; "d--n him, beat the
beggarly rascal's brains out!"
I received several severe blows on the head and shoulders, while Tony
actually strove to strangle me by twisting my necktie; and in a
combat so unequal I must have been defeated and severely handled in
the end, had not two men who were clad in long scarlet cloaks, and
were mounted on grey horses, interposed, and one who had drawn his
sword, exclaimed--
"Hold, fellows, hold! What the devil do you mean--is it murder?
Back! on your lives, stand back! Why this cowardly attack of three
upon one?"
On this the valets precipitately withdrew a little way; but Tony
still grasped my collar, and on perceiving by their dress and
accoutrements that the interposers were two Horse Grenadiers or
Dragoons, he swore at them roundly, and said--
"What value do you put upon your ears that you dare to accost me upon
the highway?"
"Dare?" repeated the soldier, contemptuously.
"Yes, dare!" exclaimed my cousin, foaming with rage. "Be off with
you. Do you imagine that a scurvy trooper can scare me? I am
Anthony Gauntlet of Netherwood Hall, and in the commission of the
peace for this county; so begone I say, or d--n me I'll put you both
in the stocks at the nearest market cross."
The dragoon laughed, and placed the bare blade of his sword so close
to Tony's neck that he hastily released me and slunk back.
"If you are what you say, sir," observed the other dragoon, with a
singular hauteur in his tone and manner, "a justice of the peace, you
should not be brawling thus with people on the king's highway."
"Rascal, to whom do you presume to give advice, eh?" roared Tony,
choking with passion.
"Double rascal, to you!" thundered out the soldier, as he wrenched
away by a single twitch of his right hand one of the valets' whips,
and lashed Tony and his fellows so soundly, and with such rapidity,
that they scarcely knew whether they were on the highway or in the
air.
He fairly drove them off, while his comrade, who had now sheathed his
sword, sat in his saddle and laughed heartily as he looked on.
"Come with us, my lad," said he, "lest those cowardly curs return and
fall on you again. There is an inn somewhere near this, I
believe--or at least there was when last we marched into England."
"Yes, you mean the 'Marquis of Granby,'" said I, while applying my
handkerchief to a cut on my left temple, which bled profusely.
"Ah! that is the place I mean; we must find our quarters there for
the night. You will share a glass with us and tell us how this
battle came to pass?"
And to this invitation I assented.