Those who ran off on foot, upon first seeing the carriage clash by, gave
up after a two-mile race, and the most impetuous of them were standing
at a corner when the barouche came in view.
"What is it? Have you seen them?" cried Sir Philip, who was standing up
in front, and holding on by the driver's seat, directing him so that the
horses were now arrested.
"No, Sir Philip," said one man, "they've gone right on ahead, but they
were nearly over here." And he pointed to the wheel-marks, which, in
the sudden curve, showed that the chariot must have torn round at a
fearful rate; so swiftly, indeed, that the equilibrium had been
destroyed, and the corner cleared only on two wheels.
"Drive on!" exclaimed Sir Philip Vining hoarsely. "Gallop!" And away
sped the barouche for another mile along the unfrequented country road.
"Seen a carriage--Sir Philip's carriage and four?" shouted the coachman
to a man driving a cart.
"Ah, raight on ahead, going full gallop," shouted the man in reply; and
away once more sped the barouche, till white specks of foam began to
appear upon the horses' glossy coats, to be succeeded by a lather
wherever there was the play of rein or trace. Cart after cart was
passed, and the same news was obtained of all, till, after a two-mile
run without seeing any trace of vehicle or pedestrian of whom to
inquire, a farmer's gig was overtaken.
"No, sir," was the reply; "I've seen no carriage but yours."
"Not one with four horses and postillions?" exclaimed Sir Philip.
"No, sir," said the fanner, "but you'd better not trust to me; I've not
been long on this road."
"Drive on!" impatiently cried Sir Philip, who now became less agitated.
Above four miles from Lexville, and no upset, there must have been time
for the first heat of the excited beasts to cool down, and for the
postillions to regain command over them; so that he was in momentary
expectation of encountering the returning chariot; but still it did not
appear.
"Should we be in time if we found him now?" exclaimed Sir Philip.
"What, to get back to the church?" said Mr Bray, nervously referring to
his watch. "I fear not, I fear not."
"How unfortunate!" exclaimed Sir Philip; and then he relapsed into
silence, save when at intervals he spoke to the coachman, who kept the
well-bred pair of horses at a brisk gallop.
"Stop here," cried Sir Philip, as they neared a roadside inn, where a
wagon and half a dozen labourers were standing, ready enough to stare at
the rapidly-approaching vehicle.
"Carriage and four go by here a few minutes ago?" cried Sir Philip to
the landlord, who now came bustling out.
"No, sir; not by here."
"Are you sure?" exclaimed Sir Philip, with a perplexed air.
"Sure, sir? O yes, sir, quite sure," said the landlord, "or must have
seen it. We see everything that goes by here, sir.--Haven't seen a
four-horse coach go by, have you, lads?" he continued, addressing the
wagoners.
"No, no," cried Sir Philip. "A chariot with four horses and
postillions--post-boys in bluejackets?"
"No, sir--no, sir--not come by here!" was chorused.
"We could not have passed them, upset in one of the ditches, could we?"
hinted Mr Bray.
"Impossible!" cried Sir Philip. "But where could they have turned off?"
"Like to take the horses out and wait, sir? They may come soon," said
the landlord.
"No, no, my man," hastily cried Sir Philip. "There is nowhere for a
carriage to turn off from the high-road during these last two miles, is
there?"
"Whoy yes, sur," said one of the wagoners, "there's Bogle's-lane as goes
to Squire Lethbridge's fa-arm; and the low lane down by the beck."
"Ay, lad, and theer's ta by-ro-ad as goes to Bellby and La-a-anton."
"Laneton--Laneton?" Sir Philip exclaimed. "Here, my lads," he cried,
and he threw two or three coins amongst the men. "To be sure! Turn
back quick, William; they may have gone that way."
The coachman turned his panting horses, and they went back at a smart
trot towards the by-lane mentioned, a good mile and a half back; while a
flood of thought passed the while through Sir Philip's troubled brain.
"Laneton--Laneton! What could be the meaning of that? But absurd; the
horses had taken fright and been turned up there. Of course, the lane
would be very heavy at this time of the year, and it was done to tire
out the horses. But then Mrs Brandon lived at Laneton. It was there
that that interview took place with Miss Bedford. But absurd; Miss
Bedford had left there for long enough, and no doubt they would find at
the entrance of the lane that the carriage had turned down there, and
now exhibited the back tracks. They had overshot the mark, and it was a
great pity. It was unfortunate altogether, but one thing was evident:
the wedding could not take place that day."
So mused Sir Philip, till, as they neared the narrow entrance that they
had barely noticed, another troublous thought flashed upon his mind.
"Did you send a man on horseback from the church?" he asked eagerly of
Mr Bray.
"Man on horseback?" said Mr Bray, looking confusedly up at where Sir
Philip stood upon the front cushions.
"Yes, a messenger. Did you send one to the Court?"
"No," said Mr Bray decidedly.
"Did any one, then? do you know of one being sent?" exclaimed Sir
Philip.
"No," said Mr Bray stoutly. "We sent no messenger."
What did it mean, then, that strange man on the panting horse, who had
brought a message for his son? Something must, then, be wrong, and this
was no accident.
"Gone down here, Sir Philip, after all," said the coachman, pointing
with his whip, as he drew up at the entrance of the narrow lane.
"And come back again, have they not?" cried Sir Philip eagerly, peering
down at the wheel-tracks in the hope of finding that in his own mind he
had been raising up a bugbear of undefined shape and dread portent.
"No, Sir Philip, they ain't come back," said the coachman, turning his
horses into the lane.
The carriage had to be driven here slowly through rut and hole, worn by
the farmers' heavy wagons; but still at a good sharp trot where the road
admitted, till a wagon blocked the way about a mile down, when a good
deal of contriving had to be exercised for the two vehicles to pass.
"Did you see a carriage lower down?" asked Sir Philip of the wagoner.
"Ay, sur. A foine un it were, too: four bosses, and chaps in blue, and
torsels in their caps. Passed me, ah, moren half an hour agoo."
"Were the horses running away asked?" Mr Bray, for Sir Philip was
silent.
"Roonnin' awa-ay, sur? Noa, cos they had to wa-ait while I drawed up to
ta hedgeside, for t' la-ane's narrerer lower deown."
"Go on, William!" said Sir Philip fiercely, for his suspicions were now
assuming a bodily form; and it was with anger gathering in his breast
that he sat there thinking--knowing, too, the goal to which to shape his
course. But he said no word to Mr Bray, only sat down now, with his
brow knit, as he felt the impossibility of overtaking the other
carriage; but from time to time he started up impatiently, to urge the
coachman to renewed efforts; so that whenever a plain hard piece of road
presented itself, the horses appeared almost to fly.
Shame and disgrace seemed to Sir Philip to have marked him for their
own; and he shrank from his companion, dreading, after awhile, to hear
him speak; for his son's acts were as his own; nay, he felt that they
would fall upon him more heavily. It was cruel, cruel, cruel; or was he
mad? Impossible! But what could he do, what could he say?
"Wait awhile," he muttered at last; and then, starting up once more, he
ordered the coachman to drive faster. And onward they tore, till the
carriage jolted here and there, and the springs threatened to snap; but
Sir Philip heeded nothing but his own thoughts, as his heart asked him
where was his son. A question that he could have answered again and
again, as his brow grew more deeply marked with the anger and shame that
oppressed him; but he forbore.
"Quicker, William, quicker!" exclaimed Sir Philip at last; and the
coachman lashed the horses into a gallop, but only to hasten the
catastrophe that had been predicted for the chariot; for, as the horses
sprang forward, and the barouche swayed again with the speed, there was
a sharp crack, a swerve, a crash, and the handsome carriage was over,
with the horses kicking madly, and the driver and occupants lying
stunned and senseless in the muddy road.
Volume 3, Chapter XII.