The day which we have begun in the last chapter, passed over without
any other event of importance. Lord Harold left Alice at the door of
the house, mounted his horse, and departed. Alice communicated to her
father all that had taken place, and found him more grieved than she
had expected, but not at all surprised. The angler was again seen
fishing in the stream as the first shadows of evening began to fall;
but his efforts were not so successful as before, and he retired early
to rest.
The following morning was again a bright one--too bright, indeed, for
his sport; and in the course of the forenoon Langford made his
appearance at the Manor House and paid a lengthened visit. At first he
found only Sir Walter Herbert at home, but the visitor seemed to enjoy
his conversation much; and the good old knight suffered it to be
sufficiently evident that the society of his new acquaintance was
anything but disagreeable to him. In the course of half an hour,
however, Alice Herbert herself appeared; and not only did Langford's
eye light up with pleasure, but the conversation, which had before been
of somewhat a grave, if not of a sad cast, instantly, as if by magic,
became bright and sparkling, like the dark woods in the fairy tale,
which, by a stroke of the enchanter's wand, are changed to crystal
palaces and illuminated gardens. Alice, without knowing what had passed
before, felt that her presence had produced a change. She felt, too,
that her society had an influence upon Langford; that it called forth
and brought into activity the treasures and capabilities of his mind;
and, if truth must be spoken, it was not unpleasant to her to feel that
such was the case.
We may go further still, and look a little deeper into her heart. Her
acquaintance with Langford, short as it had been, had proved most
disadvantageous to the hopes and wishes of Lord Harold; but in saying
this, we mean no more than we do say. She was not--hers was not a
nature to become in so short a time--in love with Henry Langford; nor,
indeed, so rapidly to become in love with any one on the face of the
earth. She was capable of deep, and intense, and ardent feeling; and
the depths of her heart were full of warm affections. But the waves of
profound waters are not easily stirred up by light winds; a ripple may
curl the surface, but the bosom of the deep is still. She was not in
love with Langford; but had she not known him, it is possible--barely
possible, that though she would not have accepted Lord Harold at once,
she might, as many a woman does, have suffered him to pursue his suit
till she felt herself bound in honour to give him her hand, without
feeling any ardent attachment towards him even at last, and trusting
for happiness to esteem and regard. Her acquaintance with Langford,
however, had given her feelings a more decided character, had taught
her that she could not marry any one whom she did not absolutely love.
It went no further; but as far as that, the sort of surprise and
pleasure which his conversation had given her certainly did go; and
now, on their second meeting, there might be a kind of thrilling
satisfaction at her heart in finding that her society had an influence
over him, that his eye sparkled with irrepressible light, that his
thoughts, and manner, and feelings seemed to take a deeper tone as soon
as she appeared.
So went on the conversation for some time; both feeling, while it
proceeded, that though they might be talking of indifferent subjects,
they were thinking a good deal of each other; and thus they established
between themselves, all unwittingly, a secret sympathy, which but too
often throws wide the doors of the heart, to admit a strange guest, who
soon takes possession of the place.
The course of the conversation speedily brought Sir Walter to remark,
"You must have visited many foreign countries, Captain Langford, and
apparently not as our young men usually do, in a hurried and rapid
expedition, to see without seeing, and to hear without understanding. I
must confess it was the case with myself, in my young days; but the
habit of travel was not then so much upon the nation as at present, and
it was something for a country gentleman to have been abroad at all."
"I have been very differently situated, Sir Walter," replied his guest;
"though not born upon the continent, being, thank God! an Englishman,
yet the greater part of my early life was spent in other lands. My
mother was not of this country, and she loved it not--nor, indeed, had
occasion to love it. We resided much in France and much in Italy: some
short time, too, was passed in Spain; but those visits were in early
years; and I have since seen more of various countries while serving
with our troops under Turenne. I was very young, indeed, a mere boy,
when the British forces in which I served were recalled from the
service of France; but I was one of those who judged, perhaps wrongly,
that England had no right to leave her allies in the midst of a severe
war, and who therefore remained with the French forces till the peace
was concluded. I have since served for many years in several other
countries; and I have always been of opinion, that while there is no
life which affords more opportunity for idleness than a soldier's, if
his natural disposition so lead him, there is no life which gives so
much opportunity of improvement, if he be but inclined to improve."
Alice had listened eagerly and attentively, for Langford had approached
a subject which had become of interest to her: his own fate and
history. Sir Walter listened, too, with excited expectation; but their
guest turned the conversation immediately to other things, and shortly
after took his leave.
When he was gone, Sir Walter himself could not refrain from
saying--"That is certainly an extraordinary young man. Poor fellow! I
much fear, Alice, that he is one of those whom the faults of their
parents--the weakness of a mother, and the vices of a father--have sent
abroad upon the world without the legitimate ties of kindred."
"Oh! no, indeed, my dear father!" cried Alice, "I cannot believe that.
He would never speak so boldly and so tenderly of his mother, if there
were any stain upon her name. He has twice mentioned her, and each time
I have seen a glow of mingled love and pride come up in his
countenance."
"Well, I trust it is so," replied Sir Walter, "for otherwise no
situation can be more lamentable; with no legitimate relations of his
own, with no hope of uniting himself to any upright and ancient house;
for that bar sinister must always be an insuperable objection to every
family of pure and honourable blood."
Perhaps Alice might not see why it should be so; but she knew her
father's prejudices upon that point well, and she dropped the subject.
In the meanwhile, the person who had thus afforded them matter for
speculation, returned to the inn, sat, read, and wrote for some time in
his own chamber, and then sauntered forth with a book in his hand, and
his rod and line left behind, in order to meditate more at leisure by
the side of the stream, wherein, during the whole of the preceding
evening, he had lost his time in unsuccessful angling. He was not at
all inclined to renew his sport; and if truth were to be spoken, he
took his book more to cover his meditations than to prompt them.
Let us draw back the curtain, however, for a moment, and look through
the window in his breast, in order to see what were the motives and
causes which rendered even that sport which has been called "The
contemplative man's recreation," too importunate an occupation for the
body, to suffer the agitated mind to deliberate with ease. We have seen
what had been the effect of Alice Herbert's society upon him, during
the first evening of their acquaintance: he could not but admire her
beauty, for it was not of that cold and abstracted kind which may be
seen and commented on by the mind, without producing any other emotion.
It was of what we may call the most taking sort of beauty; it was of
that sort which goes at once to the heart, and thence appeals to the
mind, which cannot but admit its excellence. But still, even had he
fallen in love that night, it might have been called love at first
sight, and yet have implied a very false position. During each of the
preceding years he had spent nearly six weeks in the small country town
we have described; and, in the neighbourhood of Alice Herbert, he had
heard from every lip but one account of her character. He had spoken of
her with many, and every one with whom he spoke loved her.
He might therefore be well pleased to love her too, when he found that
to virtue and excellence were joined beauty, talents, and sweetness,
such as he had never beheld united before. We know also what was the
conclusion he had come to when he saw her in the society of Lord
Harold; and we may add, that he was more mortified, disappointed, and
angry with himself, than he was at all inclined to admit. When,
however, on the following day--placed in a situation from which he
could not retreat unperceived--he had been an unintentional, and even
an unwilling witness to a part of her conversation with Lord Harold,
and when from that part he learned undeniably that she rejected that
young nobleman's suit, he felt grateful to her for reconciling him with
himself, and for removing so speedily the mortification of the
preceding evening. That which had been at first but a mere spark upon
Hope's altar, and had dwindled away till it seemed extinct, blazed up
into a far brighter flame than before: and in their second interview he
felt as if an explanation had taken place between them, and that she
had told him, "I am to be won, if you can find the right way and use
sufficient diligence."
But still there was much to be thought of, there was much to be
considered; there were peculiar points in his own situation, which
rendered the chance of gaining her father's consent to his suit almost
desperate. He felt--he knew, that if he lingered long near her, he
should love her with all the intensity of a strong and energetic mind,
of a generous and feeling heart; he felt, too, from indications which
he did not pause to examine, but which were sufficient for him, that
there was a chance of his winning her love in return. But then, if
giving his heart and gaining hers were to produce misery to both, ought
he--ought he to pause for a moment, ere he decided on flying for ever
from a scene of such temptation? But then came in again the voice of
hope, representing prospects the most improbable as the most likely,
changing the relative bearings of all the circumstances around him, and
whispering that, even for the bare chance of winning such happiness, he
might well stake the tranquillity of his whole life. Such were the
thoughts that agitated him, with many another, on which it is needless
here to touch. Such was the theme for meditation on which he pored
while wandering on beside the stream.
The afternoon had gone by, and the brightness of the day had become
obscured, not only by the sinking of the sun, but by some large heavy
clouds which had rolled up, and seemed to portend a thunder-storm.
Langford had looked up twice to the sky, not with any purpose of
returning home, for the rain he feared not; and, in witnessing the
grand contention of the elements he had always felt an excitement and
elevation from his boyhood. There seemed to him something in the bright
light of the flame of heaven, and in the roaring voice of the thunder,
which raised high thoughts, and incited to noble efforts and great and
mighty aspirations, he looked up twice, however, to mark the progress
of the clouds, as writhing themselves into strange shapes, they took
possession of the sky, borne by the breath of a quiet sultry wind,
which seemed scarcely powerful enough to move their heavy masses
through the atmosphere.
When he looked up a third time, Langford's eye was attracted to the
opposite bank by the form of the half-witted man, Silly John, making
eager signs to him without speaking, although, from the point at which
he stood upon this slope, Langford could have heard every word with
ease.
As soon as he saw that he had caught the angler's eye, however, the
half-witted man called to him vehemently to come over, pointing with
his stick towards a path through the trees, and shouting, "You are
wanted there!"
Langford paused, doubting whether he should cross or not; for though
the stream was shallow, and the trouble but little, still the man who
called him was, as he well knew, insane, and might be urged merely by
some idle fancy.
While he hesitated, however, the other ran down the bank, exclaiming,
when he had come close to the margin--"Quick, quick, Master Harry, or
ill may happen to her you love best!"
Langford stayed not to ask himself who that was, but crossed the stream
in a moment, demanding, "What do you mean, John?--what ill is likely to
happen to----"
He was about to add the name of her who had so recently and busily
occupied his thoughts; but suddenly remembering himself, he stopped
short, and the half-witted man burst into a laugh, exclaiming, "What,
you won't say it, Master Harry? Well, come along with me; you will find
I am right. I settled it all for you long ago, when I was an usher at
Uppington School; and I said you should marry her, whether the old lord
liked it or not. But come on! come on quickly! There are two of the
foxes down there waiting by the dingle, just beyond the park gates. You
know what foxes are, Master Harry? Well, you never thought to go
fox-hunting this evening; but I call them foxes, because the law won't
let me call them by any other name; and she has gone down to the old
goody Hardy, the blind woman, to talk with her. Then she will have to
read a chapter in the Bible, I warrant; so that she will be just coming
back about this time, and then she will meet with the foxes; though,
after all, they are waiting for Master Nicholas, the collector's clerk,
I dare say; but they will never let her pass without inquiry."
While he spoke these wild and rambling words, he walked on rapidly,
followed by Langford, who was now seriously alarmed; for, although what
his companion poured forth was vague and incoherent, yet there were
indications in it of something being really wrong, and of some danger
menacing Alice Herbert. He remarked, too, that the half-witted man, as
he walked along, frequently grasped the cudgel that he carried, and
lifted it up slightly, as if to strike: but it was in vain that
Langford tried to gain any clearer notion of what was amiss, for his
questions met with no direct reply, his companion answering them
constantly by some vague and irrelevant matter, and only hurrying his
pace.
Thus they proceeded through the wood that topped the bank over the
stream, across a part of the manor-park, to a spot where a belt of
planting flanked the enclosed ground on the side furthest from the
house and the village. It was separated by a high paling from a lane
which ran along to some cottages at the foot of an upland common, and
the lane itself was every here and there broken by a little irregular
green, ornamented by high trees.
The ground around, indeed, seemed to have been cut off from the park,
and probably had been so in former times.
There was a small gate opened from the park into the lane, at the
distance of about a quarter of a mile from the spot at which Langford
and his companion approached the paling, and at that hour of the
evening they could discern the gate with the path leading up to it; for
though the sun was just down, it was yet clear twilight. Towards that
gate Silly John rapidly bent his steps; but they had not yet reached
it, when Langford suddenly heard a scream proceeding from the lane on
his right hand, and apparently close to them. The memory of the ear is
perhaps stronger and keener than that of the eye; and, though he had
never heard that voice in any other pitch than that of calm and
peaceful conversation, the distinctive tone was as discernible to the
quick sense in the scream now heard, as it would have been had Alice
Herbert simply called him by his name. He paused for no other
indication in a moment he was through the belt of planting; and
vaulting at a bound over the paling, he stood in one of the little
greens we have mentioned, an unexpected intruder upon a party engaged
in no very legitimate occupation.
On the sandy path which marked the passage of the lane across the
green, stood Alice Herbert, with a tall powerful man grasping her
tightly by the right shoulder, and keeping the muzzle of a pistol to
her temple, in order, apparently, to prevent her from screaming, while
another was busily engaged in rifling her person of anything valuable
she bore about her. So prompt and rapid had been the approach of
Langford, that the two gentlemen of the road were quite taken unawares,
and the one who held her was in the very act of vowing that he would
blow her brains out if she uttered a word, when the muzzle of the
pistol he held to her head was suddenly knocked up in the air by a blow
from the unexpected intruder. The first impulse of the robber was to
pull the trigger, and the pistol went off, carrying the ball a foot or
a foot and a half above the head of Alice Herbert.
Instantly letting go his grasp of the terrified girl, the man who had
held her threw down the pistol and drew his sword upon his assailant.
But Langford's blade was already in his hand; and his skill in the use
of his weapon was remarkable, so that in less than three passes which
took place with the speed of lightning, the robber's sword was wrenched
from his grasp and flying amongst the boughs of the trees, while he
himself, brought upon his knee, received a severe wound in his neck as
he fell. At that moment, however, another terrified scream from the
lips of Alice Herbert called her defender's attention, and turning
eagerly towards her, Langford at once perceived that it was for him and
not for herself that she was now alarmed. The robber whom he had seen
engaged in rifling her of any little trinkets she bare about her, had
instantly abandoned that occupation, on the sudden and unexpected
attack upon his comrade, and was now advancing towards Langford, better
prepared than the other had been, with his drawn sword in one hand and
a pistol in the other. The moment which Langford had lost in turning
towards Alice had been sufficient to enable the man whom he had
disarmed to start upon his feet again, and to run to the spot where his
sword had fallen, and the angler found that in another instant he
should be opposed single-handed, and with nothing but his sword, to two
strong and well-armed men. He did not easily, however, lose his
presence of mind; and seizing Alice Herbert's arm with his left hand,
he gently drew her behind him, saying, "Crouch down low that you may
not be hurt when they fire. I will defend you with my life."
Scarcely had he spoken, when the second ruffian deliberately presented
the pistol at him, and fired. Langford felt that he was wounded in the
left shoulder, and the blow of the bullet made him stagger; but, in the
course of a soldier's life he had been wounded before, more than once,
and as far as he could judge, he was not now severely hurt.
His two assailants, however, were rushing fiercely upon him, and the
odds seemed strong against him; but at that moment another arm, and a
strong one, came in aid of his own. His half-witted guide had by this
time scrambled over the paling, as well as his lameness would permit;
and, with the cunning of madness, had crept quietly behind the two
plunderers. As soon as he was within arm's length, which was but a
moment after the shot was fired that wounded Langford in the shoulder,
he waved his cudgel in the air, and struck the man who had discharged
the pistol a blow on the back of the head, which laid him prostrate and
stunned upon the ground.
Langford's quick eye instantly perceived the advantage, and he rushed
forward, sword in hand, upon the other man. Finding, however, that the
day was against them, the ruffian fled amain, after making an
ineffectual effort to raise his companion; and, in a moment after, the
sound of a horse's feet, as it galloped rapidly away, was heard in the
road above.
"It is right that every man should have his nag," said the half-witted
man, turning over the prostrate robber with his foot; "but thou wilt
ride no more, simpleton! I wonder if these clerks of Saint Nicholas,
have lightened the burden of Master Nicholas, the clerk?" he continued,
turning as if to speak to him whom he had guided thither; but by this
time Langford had returned to the spot where Alice Herbert stood; and,
holding both her hands in his, was congratulating her upon her escape,
with all those feelings sparkling forth from his eyes which might well
arise from the situation in which he was placed, combined with all the
thoughts and fancies that had lately been busy at his heart.
Alice looked up in his face with an expression that could not be
mistaken. It was full of deep gratitude. Perhaps there might be
something more in it too; and without listening much to vanity, he
might have read it: "I would rather be thus protected by you than by
any one I ever knew."
There are times and circumstances that draw two hearts together in a
moment, which might otherwise have been long in finding each other out;
and such were the times and circumstances in which they stood. She was
very pale, however; and Langford was somewhat apprehensive, also, that
the worthy personage who had galloped off might return with more of his
fraternity; so that, after a few words of congratulation and assurance
to Alice, he called to his half-witted companion--"Come, John, come!
Leave the scoundrel where he is: we have not time to make sure of him,
and we had better get into the park and towards the manor as fast as
possible."
Thus saying, he drew Alice's arm within his own, and led her to the
gate, speaking eagerly to her of all that had occurred. The madman
followed more slowly; but they had scarcely gone a hundred yards within
the paling when Langford perceived that his fair companion was turning
more and more pale every moment. Her eyelids too drooped heavily, and
she said at length, in a low voice, "I am very faint." Scarcely had she
spoken the words when he felt that she was beginning to sink, and
placing her upon a bank beneath one of the old trees of the park, he
bade their crazy companion hasten as fast as possible to the house, and
bring some of the servants to assist in carrying their fair mistress
home.
The man seemed to comprehend at once, and set off to obey; but Langford
did not wait for the return of his messenger ere he endeavoured to
recall Alice to herself. From a little brook which ran towards the
stream, he brought up some water in his hands, in order to sprinkle her
face therewith; but as he did so, something struck his eye which he had
not before perceived, and which made his heart sink with sensations
that he had never yet felt, even in scenes of carnage and horror such
as man seldom witnesses: the sleeve of Alice Herbert's white dress on
the right arm was dripping with blood, and Langford, in agony lest she
should have sustained some injury, after casting the water in her face,
tore her sleeve open to seek for the wound. No hurt was to be found,
however; no blood was flowing down that fair smooth skin; the stains
were less in the inside of her garment than on the out, and the blood
which he now saw trickling down his own arm--the arm on which she had
been leaning--so as to dabble the back of his hand, showed him whence
that had proceeded which had stained her dress.
The cool air, the recumbent position, and the water he had thrown in
her face, had by this time begun to recall Alice to consciousness; and
the joy of seeing her recover, of finding that she was unhurt, and of
having successfully defended her, threw Henry Langford off his guard,
so far at least that he pressed a long kiss on the fair hand he held
fondly in his own. Alice's languid eyes met his as he raised his head;
but there was a slight smile upon her lip, and he saw that he had not
offended.
Her first faint words, as soon as she had sufficiently recovered
herself to speak, were--"You are hurt! Oh, Captain Langford, I am sure
you are very much hurt; and my being weak enough to faint when I found
the blood trickling down my arm has delayed you but the longer in
getting assistance. For Heaven's sake leave me here, and seek some one
to attend to your wound as soon as you can. I shall be quite safe here.
I have no fear now, but am only afraid that I cannot walk very fast;
and, indeed, you should not be without help any longer."
Langford assured her that his wound was a trifle, that it was a mere
nothing, that the blood he had lost could do him no injury. But Alice
would not be satisfied; and, finding that Langford would not go without
her, she insisted upon proceeding immediately. She trembled very much,
and could walk but slowly; but she persevered in her determination, and
had half crossed the park when they were met by Sir Walter himself and
four and five of the servants. The feelings of the father at that
moment may be conceived, but cannot be described; he threw his arms
round his daughter, exclaiming, "My child, my dear child! But are you
not hurt, my Alice? Yes, yes, you are! You are covered with blood!" and
his own cheek grew deadly pale.
"It is his, my father," replied Alice, leaning upon Sir Walter's bosom,
and holding out her hand to Langford; "I am quite unhurt, but he is
wounded, and I am afraid seriously. He gave me his arm to help me home,
and, in a minute, my whole sleeve was wet with blood. I was foolish
enough to faint when I saw it, and that has made us longer; so pray
look to his wound immediately."
All eyes were now turned upon Langford; and as Sir Walter hurried him
and his daughter on to the Manor House, he loaded him with both thanks
and inquiries. Langford assured him the wound that he had received was
a mere trifle, that the ball had lodged in the flesh, and that he could
move his arm nearly as well as ever; and then, to change the subject,
he recounted to Sir Walter and Alice as they went how he had been led
to the spot where he had found her, by the unfortunate half-witted man,
John Graves.
"He shall wander about the world no more, if I can provide him with a
home," exclaimed Sir Walter, turning to look for the person of whom
they spoke; but he was no longer with the party, and they could hear
his voice in the woods at some distance singing one of the old melodies
of those times.
When they reached that door of the Manor House which opened into the
park, Langford was about to take his leave, and proceed to the village
to seek for a surgeon. Alice cast down her eyes as he proposed to do
so; but Sir Walter grasped him by the hand, and led him gently in,
saying, "In no house but mine, Captain Langford! Do you think, after
having received such an injury in defending my daughter, that we would
trust you to the attendance of an inn?"
Langford made but slight opposition. If there had been hesitation in
his mind, and doubt at his heart, when he had gone forth that afternoon
to wander by the side of the stream, both doubt and hesitation were by
this time over; and, after a few common-places about giving trouble, he
accepted Sir Walter's invitation, and became an inmate of one house
with Alice Herbert.