Frank Fairlegh

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"I think you must by this time see the folly of attempting to prolong
this absurd scene, Mr. Fairlegh," said Mr. Vernor, addressing me,
without noticing Mr. Frampton's observation otherwise than by a
contemptuous glance; "I presume we have come to the last act of this
revival of the old comedy, 'A Bold Stroke for a Wife,' and I think you
are pretty well aware of my opinion of the performance."

"Umph! eh?--I fancy you'll find there's another act before the play is
ended yet, sir," returned Mr. Prampton, who was now thoroughly roused;
"an act that, with all your cunning, you are not prepared for, and that
even your unparalleled effrontery will be insufficient to carry you
through unmoved. You say, sir, that by the will of the late Sir Henry
Saville, his daughter's inheritance descends to you in the event of her
marrying without your consent. May I ask whether there is not a certain
contingency provided for, which might divert the property into another
channel? Umph!"

"Really, sir, it is long since I looked at the will," exclaimed Mr.
Vernor, for the first time dropping his usual tone of contemptuous
indifference, and speaking quickly and with excitement--"May I inquire
to what you refer?"

"Was there not a clause to this effect, sir?" continued Mr. Frampton
sternly; and, producing a slip of paper, he read as follows:--

"'But whereas it was the firm belief and conviction of the aforesaid
Clara Rose Elliot, afterwards Lady Saville, my late lamented wife, that
her brother Ralph Elliot, supposed to have perished at sea, had not
so perished, but was living in one of our colonies, I hereby will and
direct, that in the event of the said Ralph Elliot returning to England,
and clearly proving and establishing his identity, three hundred pounds
per annum shall be allowed him out of my funded property, for his
maintenance during the term of his natural life; and I further will and
direct, that in the event of my daughter, Clara Saville, by disobedience
to the commands of her guardian, Richard Vernor, forfeiting her
inheritance as, by way of penalty, I have above directed, then I
devise and bequeath the before mentioned funded property, together with
Barstone Priory and the lands and rents appertaining thereunto, to the
aforesaid Ralph Elliot, for his absolute use and behoof '."

~447~~

As he listened to the reading of this portion of the will, Mr. Vernor's
usually immovable features assumed an expression of uneasiness which
increased into an appearance of vague and undefined alarm; and when Mr.
Frampton concluded, he exclaimed hurriedly, "Well, sir, what of that?
The man has been drowned these forty years."

"Umph! I rather think not," was the reply, "I don't look much like a
drowned man, do I? Umph!"

So saying, he strode up to Mr. Vernor, and, regarding him with a stern
expression of countenance, added: "You were pleased in your insolence,
just now, to term me a 'nameless individual'; these papers," he
continued, producing a bundle, "will prove to you that Ralph Elliot was
not drowned at sea, as you imagine, but that the nameless individual
whom in my person you have treated with unmerited insult, is none other
than he".

"It is false!" exclaimed Mr. Vernor, turning pale with rage. "This is
all a vile plot, got up in order to extort my consent to this marriage.
But I'll expose you--I'll--"

At this moment the library door was thrown violently open, and old Peter
Barnett, his face bleeding and discoloured, as if from fighting, and his
clothes torn and muddy, rushed into the centre of the apartment.

CHAPTER LV -- THE PURSUIT

"Let not search and inquisition fail to bring
again those... runaways."
--_As You Like It_.

"Fetch me that handkerchief,
My mind misgives."
--_Othello_.

"Sharp goads the spur, and heavy falls the stroke,
Rattle the wheels, the reeking horses smoke."
--_The Elopement_.

ON the sudden appearance of old Peter in the deplorable condition
described in the last chapter, we all sprang to our feet, eager to learn
the cause of what we beheld. We were not long kept in suspense, for
as soon as he could recover breath enough to speak, he turned to Mr.
Vernor, saying, in a voice hoarse with sorrow and indignation:--"If
you knows anything of this here wickedness, as I half suspects you do,
servant as I am, I tells you to your face, you're a willain, and I could
find in my heart to ~448~~ serve you as your precious nephew (as you
calls him) and his hired bullies have served me".

"How dare you use such language to me?" was the angry reply. "You have
been drinking, sirrah; leave the room instantly."

"Tell me, Peter," exclaimed I, unable longer to restrain myself, "what
has happened? Your mistress--Clara--is she safe?"

"That's more than I knows," was the reply; "if she is now, she won't
be soon, without we moves pretty sharp; for she's in precious unsafe
company. While we was a-looking after one thief, we've been robbed
by t'other: we was watching Muster Wilford, and that young scoundrel
Cumberland has cut in and bolted with Miss Clara!"

"Distraction!" exclaimed I, nearly maddened by the intelligence; "which
road have they taken? how long have they been gone?"

"Not ten minutes," was the reply; "for as soon as ever they had knocked
me down, they forced her into the carriage, and was off like lightning;
and I jumped up, and ran here as hard as legs would carry me."

"Then they may yet be overtaken," cried I, seizing my hat; "but are you
sure Wilford has nothing to do with it?"

"Quite certain," was the answer; "for I met him a-going a-shooting as I
cum in, and he stopped me to know what was the matter: and when I told
him, he seemed quite flustered like, and swore he'd make Cumberland
repent it."

"Mad, infatuated boy!" exclaimed Mr. Vernor; "bent on his own ruin."
And burying his face in his hands, he sank into a chair, apparently
insensible to everything that was passing.

"Now, Peter," I continued, "every moment is of importance; tell me which
road to take, and then get me the best horse in the stable, without a
moment's delay. I will bear you harmless."

"I've thought of all that, sir," rejoined Peter Barnett. "It's no use
your going alone; there's three of them besides the postboys. No! you
must take me with you; and they've knocked me about so, that I don't
think I could sit a horse, leastways not to go along as we must go, if
we means to catch 'em. No! I've ordered fresh horses to your carriage,
it's lighter than the one they have got, and that will tell in a long
chase; you _must_ take me to show you the way, Muster Fairlegh."

"Well, come along, then. Mr. Frampton, I'll bring you your niece in
safety, or this is the last time we shall meet, for I never will return
without her."

~449~~ "Umph! eh? I'll go with you, Frank; I'll go with you."

"I would advise you not, sir," replied I; "it will be a fatiguing, if
not _a dangerous_ expedition."

"Ain't I her uncle, sir? umph!" was the reply. "I tell you I will go.
Danger, indeed! why, boy, I've travelled more miles in my life, than you
have inches."

"As you please, sir," replied I; "only let us lose no time." And taking
his arm I hurried him away.

Glancing at Mr. Vernor as we left the library, I perceived that he still
remained motionless in the same attitude. As we reached the hall-door, I
was glad to find that Peter's exertions had procured four stout horses,
and that the finishing stroke was being put to their harness as we came
up.

"Who is that?" inquired I, as my eye caught the figure of a horseman,
followed by a second, apparently a groom, riding rapidly across the
park.

"That's Mr. Fleming, sir," replied one of the helpers; "he came down to
the stable, and ordered out his saddle-horses in a great hurry; I think
he's gone after Mr. Cumberland."

"What are we waiting for?" exclaimed I, in an agony of impatience.
"Peter!--Where's Peter Barnett?"

"Here, sir," he exclaimed; making his appearance the moment after I had
first observed his absence. "It ain't no use to start on a march without
arms and baggage," he added, flinging a wrapping greatcoat (out of the
pocket of which the butts of a large pair of cavalry pistols protruded)
into the rumble, and climbing up after it.

"Now, sir," exclaimed I; and half-lifting, half-pushing Mr. Frampton
into the carriage, I bounded in after him: the door was slammed to, and,
with a sudden jerk, which must have tried the strength of the traces
pretty thoroughly, the horses dashed forward, old Peter directing the
postboys which road they were to follow. The rocking motion of the
carriage (as, owing to the rapid pace at which we proceeded, it swung
violently from side to side) prevented anything like conversation,
while, for some time, a burning desire to get on seemed to paralyse
my every faculty, and to render thought impossible. Trees, fields and
hedges flew past in one interminable, bewildering, ever-moving panorama,
while to my excited imagination we appeared to be standing still,
although the horses had never slackened their speed from the moment we
started, occasionally breaking into a gallop wherever the road would
permit. After proceeding at this rate, as nearly as ~~450~ I could
reckon, about ten miles, old Peter's voice was heard shouting to the
postboys, and we came to a sudden stop. "What is it?" inquired I
eagerly; but Peter, without vouchsafing any answer, swung himself down
from his seat, and ran a short distance up a narrow lane which turned
off from the high road, stopped to pick up something, examined the
ground narrowly, and then returned to the carriage, holding up in
triumph the object he had found, which, as he came nearer, I recognised
to be a silk handkerchief I had seen Clara wear.

"I didn't think my old eyes could have seen so quickly," was his
observation as he approached; "we was almost over-running the scent,
Muster Fairlegh; and then we should 'a been ruined--horse, fut, and
artillery. Do you know what this is?"

"Clara's handkerchief! It was round her neck when I met her two days
ago."

"Ay! bless her!" was the old man's reply. "And she's been clever enough
to drop it where they turned off here, to let us know which way they
have taken her. Lucky none of 'em didn't see her a-doin' it."

"How fortunate you observed it! And now where does this lane lead to?"

"Well, that's what puzzles me," returned Peter, rubbing his nose with an
air of perplexity. "It don't lead to anything except old Joe Hardman's
mill. But they're gone down here, that's certain sure, for there was
that handkerchief, and there's the mark of wheels and 'osses' feet."

"Well, if it is certain they have gone that way," continued I, "let us
lose no time in following them. How far off is this mill?"

"About a couple of miles out of the road, sir," replied one of the
postboys.

"Get on then," said I; "but mind you do not lose the track of their
wheels. It's plain enough on the gravel of the lane."

"All right, sir," was the reply; and we again dashed forward.

As we got farther from the high road, the ruts became so deep that we
were obliged to proceed at a more moderate pace. After skirting a
thick wood for some distance, we came suddenly upon a small bleak
desolate-looking common, near the centre of which stood the mill, which
appeared in a somewhat dilapidated condition. A little half-ruinous
cottage, probably the habitation of the miller, lay to the right of the
larger building; but no signs of ~~451~ Carriage or horses were to be
perceived, nor, indeed, anything which might indicate that the place was
inhabited.

As we drew up at the gate of a farmyard, which formed the approach both
to the mill and the house, Peter Barnett again got down, and having
carefully examined the traces of the wheel-marks, observed, "they've
been here, that I'll take my Bible oath on. The wheel-tracks go straight
into the yard. But there's some fresh marks here I can't rightly make
out. It looks as if a horse had galloped up to the gate and leaped hover
it."

"Wilford!" exclaimed I, as a sudden idea came into my head. "We have
not got to the truth of this matter yet, depend upon it. There is some
collusion between Wilford and Cumberland."

"Umph! rascals!" ejaculated Mr. Frampton. "But 'they shall both hang for
it, if it costs me every farthing I possess in the world."

"It's Mr Fleming's black mare as has been hover 'ere," said one of the
postboys, who, I afterwards learned, was a stable-helper at Barstone,
and had volunteered to drive in the sudden emergency. "I knows her marks
from any hother 'orse's. She's got a bar-shoe on the near fore-foot."

"Is there nobody here to direct us?" asked I. "Let me out. Who is this
miller, Peter?" I continued, as I sprang to the ground.

"Well, he's a queer one," was the reply. "Nobody rightly knows what to
make of him. He's no great good, I expects; but good or bad, we'll have
him out."

So saying, he opened the gate, and going to the cottage-door, which was
closed and fastened, commenced a vigorous assault upon it. For some time
his exertions appeared productive of no result, and I began to imagine
the cottage was untenanted.

"We are only wasting our time to no purpose," said I. "Let us endeavour
to trace the wheel-marks, and continue our pursuit."

"I'm certain sure there's some one in the house," rejoined old Peter,
after applying his ear to the keyhole; "I can hear 'em moving about."

"We'll soon see," replied I, looking round for some implement fitted for
my purpose. In one corner lay a heap of wood, apparently part of an old
paling. Selecting a stout post which had formed one of the uprights,
I dashed it against the fastenings of the door with a degree of force
which made lock and hinges rattle again. I was about to repeat the
attack, when a gruff voice from within the house shouted, "Hold hard
there, I'm a-coming," and ~452~~ in another minute the bolts were
withdrawn, and the door opened.

"What do you mean by destroying a man's property in this manner?" was
the salutation with which we were accosted.

The speaker was a short thick-set man, with brawny arms, and a head
unnaturally large, embellished by a profusion of red hair, and a beard
of at least a week's growth. The expression of his face, surly in the
extreme, would have been decidedly bad, had it not been for a look of
kindness in the eye, which in some degree redeemed it!

"What do you mean by allowing people to stand knocking at your door for
five minutes, my friend, without taking any notice of them? You obliged
us to use summary measures," replied I.

"Well, I wor a-laying on the bed when you cum. I slipped down with a
sack of flour this morning, and hit my head, so I thought I'd turn in
and take a snooze, do you see;" and as he spoke he pointed to his face,
one side of which I now perceived was black and swollen, as if from a
blow.

"That's a lie, Joe! and you knows it," said Peter Barnett abruptly.

"You speaks pretty plainly at all events, Master Barnett," was the
reply, but in a less surly tone than he had hitherto used.

The man was clearly an original; and it was equally evident that Peter
knew how to deal with him, and that I did not. I therefore called the
former on one side, and desired him, if bribing was of any use, to offer
the miller fifty pounds, if through his information we were enabled
to overtake the fugitives. Upon this a conversation ensued between the
pair, which appeared as if it would never come to a termination; but
just as my patience was exhausted, and I was about to break in upon
them, Peter informed me that if I would engage to pay Hard-man fifty
pounds, and to protect him from Wilford's anger, he would tell me
everything he knew, and put me on the right track. To this I agreed, and
he proceeded to give me the following account:--

In the course of the previous day, a vagabond of his acquaintance, who
called himself a rat-catcher, but was a professional poacher and an
amateur pugilist, came to him, and told him that a gentleman who had
a little job in hand wanted the use of the cottage, as it was a nice
out-of-the-way place, and that, if he would agree, the gent would
call and give him his instructions. He inquired ~453~~ of what the job
consisted; and on being told that a girl was going to run away from home
with her sweetheart--that being, as he observed, merely an event in the
course of nature--he agreed. In the evening he was visited by Wilford,
and a man who was addressed as Captain. They directed him to have a room
in the cottage ready by the next morning for the reception of a lady;
and at the same time a sealed paper was handed to him, which he was
directed to lock up in some safe place, and in the event of the lady
and her maid-servant being given into his custody unharmed, he was to
deliver up the paper to a gentleman who should produce a signet ring
then shown him. This being successfully accomplished, he and his friend
the poacher were alike to prevent the lady's escape, and protect her
against all intrusion, till such time as Wilford should arrive to claim
her; for which services the worthy pair were to receive conjointly the
sum of twenty pounds.

In pursuance of these instructions, he had locked up the paper, and
prepared for locking up the lady. About half an hour before we made
our appearance, a carriage had arrived with four smoking posters; it
contained two females inside; the Captain and a gentleman (whom the
miller recognised as Mr. Cumberland of Barstone Priory) were seated in
the rumble, while his friend the poacher was located on a portmanteau in
front.

Cumberland and his companion alighted, and the former immediately asked
for the paper, producing the ring, and saying that the plan had been
changed, and that the lady was to go on another stage. Joe Hardman,
however, was not, as he expressed it, "to be done so easy," and
positively refused to give up the paper till the lady was consigned to
his custody. A whispered consultation took place between Cumberland and
the Captain, the carriage door was opened, and the lady and her maid
requested to alight. Joe then ushered them into the room prepared for
them, the windows of which had been effectually secured, locked them in,
and leaving the poacher on guard, hastened to get the paper, which, on
receiving the ring, he delivered up to Cumberland. No sooner, however,
had Cumberland secured the document than he made a signal to the
Captain; they both threw themselves upon Hardman, and endeavoured to
overpower him. He resisted vigorously, shouting loudly to the poacher
for assistance, an appeal to which that treacherous ally responded by
bestowing upon him a blow which stretched him on his back, and damaged
his ~454~~ physiognomy in the manner already described. Having put him
_hors de combat_, they took the key from him, released the lady, forced
her and her maid to re-enter the carriage, and drove off, leaving him to
explain her absence as best he might.

They had not been gone more than ten minutes when Wilford and his groom
rode up at speed, and on learning the trick which had been played
upon him swore a fearful oath to be avenged on Cumberland, and after
ascertaining which direction they had taken, followed eagerly in
pursuit.

He added, that his chief inducement for making this confession, was his
conviction that something dreadful would occur unless timely measures
were taken to prevent it. He declared Cumberland's manner to have been
that of a man driven to desperation; and he had noticed that he had
pistols with him. Wilford's ungovernable fury, on being informed how he
had been deceived, was described by Hardman as enough to make a man's
blood run cold to witness. Having, in addition, ascertained the route
they had taken, and the means by which we should be likely to trace
them, we returned to the carriage,--my heart heavy with the most dire
forebodings,--and inciting the drivers, by promises of liberal payment,
to use their utmost speed, we once again started in pursuit.

CHAPTER LVI -- RETRIBUTION

"Fell retribution, like a sleuth-hound, still
The footsteps of the wicked sternly tracks,
And in his mad career o'ertaking him,
Brings, when he least expects it, swift destruction,
And with a bitter, mocking justice, marks
Each sin that did most easily beset him.
The eye that spared not woman in its lust,
Glaring with maniac terror, sinks in death.
The homicidal hand, whose fiendish skill
Made man its victim, crushed and bleeding lies.
The crafty tongue, a ready instrument
Of that most subtle wickedness, his brain,
Babbles in fatuous imbecility."
--_Holofernes, a Mystery_.

"We meet to part no more."
--_Amatory Sentiment_.

AFTER proceeding about a mile, at a pace which consorted ill with the
fever of impatience that tormented me, we came once again upon the high
road; and having got clear of ruts and mud-holes, were enabled to resume
~455~~ our speed. Half-an-hour's gallop advanced us above six miles
on our route, and brought us to the little town of M--. Here we were
compelled to stop to change our smoking horses, and had the satisfaction
of learning that a carriage, answering to old Peter's description of the
one we were in pursuit of, had changed horses there about twenty minutes
before our arrival, and that a gentleman and his groom had since been
observed to ride at speed through the town, and to follow the course
taken by the carriage without drawing bridle. Whilst making these
inquiries, four stout posters had been attached to our vehicle, and we
again dashed forward. Another half-hour of maddening suspense followed,
although the postboys, stimulated by the promise of reward, exerted
themselves to the utmost, till the carriage swung from side to side
with a degree of violence which rendered an overturn by no means an
improbable contingency. No signs of the fugitives were to be discerned,
and I was beginning to speculate on the possibility of their having
again attempted to deceive us by turning off from the high road, when an
exclamation from Peter Barnett (who, from his exalted station, was able
to command a more extended view than ourselves) attracted my attention.
We were at the moment descending a hill, which from its steepness
obliged the postilions to proceed at a more moderate pace. Thrusting my
head and shoulders out of one of the front windows, and raising myself
by my hands, I contrived to obtain a view of the scene which had called
forth Peter's ejaculation. Rather beyond the foot of the hill, where
the ground again began to ascend, a group of persons, apparently farming
labourers, were gathered round some object by the wayside, while almost
in the centre of the road lay a large dark mass, which, as I came
nearer, I perceived to be the dead carcase of a horse; another horse,
snorting with terror at the sight of its fallen companion, was with
difficulty prevented from breaking away by a groom, who, from his dark
and well-appointed livery, I immediately recognised as a servant of
Wilford's.

With a sensation of horror, such as I do not remember ever before to
have experienced, I shouted to the postboys to stop, and, springing out,
hastened to join the crowd collected by the roadside. They made way for
me as I approached, thereby enabling me to perceive the object of their
solicitude. Stretched at full length upon the grass, and perfectly
motionless, lay the form of Wilford; his usually pale features wore the
livid hue of death, and his ~456~~ long black hair was soaked and matted
with blood, which trickled slowly from a fearful contused wound towards
the back of the head. His right shoulder, which was crushed out of all
shape, appeared a confused mass of mud and gore, while his right--_his
pistol arm_--lay bent in an unnatural direction, which showed that it
was broken in more places than one. He was perfectly insensible, but
that he was still alive was proved, as well by his hard and painful
breathing, as by a low moan of agony to which he occasionally gave
utterance. "How has this happened?" inquired I, turning away with a
thrill of horror.

"Well, as I make out, the mare crushed him when she fell upon him;
but he knows best, for he saw it all," replied one of the countrymen,
pointing to the groom, who now came forward.

On questioning the servant, I learned that Wilford, before he went out
shooting that morning, had ordered his saddle-horses to be ready for
him at a certain hour, adding, that the black mare, of which mention
has been so often before made in this history, was to be saddled for his
own riding. Immediately after Peter Barnett had returned with the news
of Miss Saville's abduction, Wilford had called for his horses in great
haste, told the servant to follow him, and ridden off at speed, through
fields and along by-lanes, till he arrived at Hardman's mill. There he
was made acquainted (as I knew from the miller's confession) with the
deception which had been practised upon him, and, muttering imprecations
against Cumberland, he started in pursuit, riding at such a pace that
the groom, although well mounted, had the greatest difficulty in keeping
up with him. At length they caught sight of a carriage with four horses
descending the steep hill already mentioned, and proceeding at a rate
which proved that time was a more important consideration than safety
to those it contained. Regardless of the dangerous nature of the ground,
Wilford continued his headlong course, and overtook the fugitives
just at the bottom of the hill. Riding furiously up to the side of
the vehicle, he shouted to the drivers to stop, in a voice hoarse with
passion. Intimidated by his furious gestures, and uncertain whether to
obey or not, the postboys, in their irresolution, slackened their speed,
when Cumberland, urged apparently to desperation, leaned out of the
window with a cocked pistol in his hand, ordered the drivers to
proceed, and turning to Wilford, desired him to give up the pursuit,
or (levelling the pistol at him as he spoke) he would blow his brains
~457~~ out. Wilford, taking no notice of the threat, again shouted to
the postilions to stop, and was about to ride forward to compel their
obedience, when Cumberland, after hesitating for a moment, suddenly
changed the direction of the pistol, and aiming at the horse instead of
the rider, fired.