"Then I may congratulate you on being the bravest woman in Uphill," said
the old gentleman, raising his hat.
It was getting dark, and they had to consider what was next to be done.
Captain Carbonel was anxious about his wife and children, and Sir Harry
was urging him to bring them to his house, while Mr Grantley, from
Poppleby, who had come up on the alarm, urged the same upon him. It
ended in a guard being told off, consisting of Cox, the constable of
Uphill, who had emerged from no one knew where, the Downhill constable,
and the shepherd, with one of the yeomen, who were to be entertained by
Pucklechurch and the cook, and prevent any mischief being done to the
scattered furniture before morning. The Pucklechurches and Mrs Mole,
with Barton, were doing their best to bring in and attend to the live
stock, all of which had been saved by Pucklechurch's care.
Then they rode off together, Sophy and the housemaid having already
started across the fields, bearing whatever necessary baggage they could
collect or carry for Mrs Carbonel and the little ones.
Mrs Carbonel was at the door when her husband rode up, having only just
managed to hush off her little Mary to sleep, and left her and the baby
with Rachel Mole to watch over them. Poor thing, she had been in a
terrible state of anxiety and terror for all these hours, so much the
worse because of the need of keeping her little girl from being agitated
by seeing her alarm or hearing the cries, exclamations, and fragments of
news that Mrs Pearson and her daughters were rushing about with.
When she saw him first, and Sophy a moment afterwards, she sprang up to
him as he dismounted, and greeted him with a burst of sobs and thankful
tears.
"Why, Mary, Mary, what's this? One would think I had been in a general
engagement. You, a soldier's wife! No; nobody's a hair the worse!
Here is Sir Harry Hartman wondering at you."
To hear of the presence of a stranger startled Mrs Carbonel into
recovering herself, with "I beg your pardon," and her pretty courtesy,
with the tears still on her face; while the old gentleman kindly spoke
of the grievous afternoon she had had, and all the time Mr and Mrs
Pearson were entreating him to do them the honour to come in and drink a
glass of wine--for cake and wine were then considered to be _the thing_
to offer guests in a farmhouse.
Sir Harry, aware of what farmhouse port was apt to be, begged for a
glass of home-brewed ale instead, but came in readily, hoping to
persuade Mrs Carbonel to send for the Poppleby post-chaise, and let him
take her and her children home. She was afraid, however, to disturb
little Mary, and Mrs Pearson reckoned on housing them for the night,
besides which his park was too far-off. So it was settled that Sophy,
for whom there really was no room, should go to Poppleby Parsonage with
Mr Grantley for the night, and she and Sir Harry only tarried to talk
over the matter, and come to an understanding of the whole as far as
might be.
"Who warned you?" asked the captain.
"The last person I should expect--Tirzah Todd, good woman," said Mrs
Carbonel. "She came and called me, and helped me over the hedges."
"And Hoglah came after me," said Sophy, "and told me to come here, only
I could not."
"You were the heroine of the whole, Miss Carbonel," said Sir Harry.
"Oh, don't say so; I didn't do any good at all," said Sophy, becoming
much ashamed of her attempt at haranguing. "Old Pucklechurch was the
one, for he saved all the dear cows and horses, and was nearly letting
himself be killed in the defence. But, oh! all the rest of them. To
think of them treating us so after everything!"
"Most likely they were compelled," said gentle Mrs Carbonel.
"They will hear of it again," said Sir Harry. "Could you identify them,
Miss Carbonel?"
"A good many," said Sophy, "though they had their faces chalked--that
horrid Dan Hewlett for one."
"There can be no doubt of him, for he was one of the prisoners that got
away," said Captain Carbonel, in a repressive manner. "He has always
been a mischievous fellow; but the remarkable thing is that it was his
son who came to summon us this morning--John Hewlett, a very good,
steady lad. By-the-by, has any one seen him? I sent him home by the
Elchester coach. I wonder what has become of him."