CHAPTER LXXVIII.
Iden.--But thou wilt brave me in these saucy terms.
Cade.--Brave thee I ay, by the best blood that ever was broached, and
beard thee too.--SHAKSPEARE.
"You see, my lord," said Mr. Glumford to Lord Ulswater, as they rode
slowly on, "that as long as those rebellious scoundrels are indulged
in their spoutings and meetings, and that sort of thing, that--that
there will be no bearing them."
Very judiciously remarked, sir," replied Lord Ulswater. "I wish all
gentlemen of birth and consideration viewed the question in the same
calm, dispassionate, and profound light that you do. Would to Heaven
it were left to me to clear the country of those mutinous and
dangerous rascals: I would make speedy and sure work of it."
"I am certain you would, my lord; I am certain you would. It is a
thousand pities that pompous fellow Mordaunt interfered yesterday,
with his moderation, and policy, and all that sort of thing; so
foolish, you know, my lord,--mere theory and romance, and that sort of
thing: we should have had it all our own way, if he had not."
Lord Ulswater played with his riding-whip, but did not reply. Mr.
Glumford continued,--
"Pray, my lord, did your lordship see what an ugly ill-dressed set of
dogs those meetingers were; that Wolfe, above all? Oh, he's a horrid-
looking fellow. By the by, he left the town this very morning; I saw
him take leave of his friends in the street just before I set out. He
is going to some other meeting,--on foot too. Only think of the folly
of talking about the policy and prudence and humanity, and that sort
of thing, of sparing such a pitiful poor fellow as that; can't afford
a chaise, or a stage-coach even, my lord,--positively can't."
"You see the matter exactly in its true light, Mr. Glumford," said his
lordship, patting his fine horse, which was somewhat impatient of the
slow pace of its companion.
"A very beautiful animal of your lordship," said Mr. Glumford,
spurring his own horse,--a heavy, dull quadruped with an obstinate
ill-set tail, a low shoulder, and a Roman nose. "I am very partial to
horses myself, and love a fine horse as well as anybody." Lord
Ulswater cast a glance at his companion's steed, and seeing nothing in
its qualities to justify this assertion of attachment to fine horses
was silent: Lord Ulswater never flattered even his mistress, much less
Mr. Glumford.
"I will tell you, my lord," continued Mr. Glumford, "what a bargain
this horse was;" and the squire proceeded, much to Lord Ulswater's
discontent, to retail the history of his craft in making the said
bargain.
The riders were now entering a part of the road, a little more than
two miles from Westborough Park, in which the features of the
neighbouring country took a bolder and ruder aspect than they had
hitherto worn. On one side of the road, the view opened upon a
descent of considerable depth, and the dull sun looked drearily over a
valley in which large fallow fields, a distant and solitary spire, and
a few stunted and withering trees formed the chief characteristics.
On the other side of the road a narrow footpath was separated from the
highway by occasional posts; and on this path Lord Ulswater (how the
minute and daily occurrences of life show the grand pervading
principles of character!) was, at the time we refer to, riding, in
preference to the established thoroughfare for equestrian and aurigal
travellers. The side of this path farthest from the road was bordered
by a steep declivity of stony and gravelly earth, which almost
deserved the dignified appellation of a precipice; and it was with no
small exertion of dexterous horsemanship that Lord Ulswater kept his
spirited and susceptible steed upon the narrow and somewhat perilous
path, in spite of its frequent starts at the rugged descent below.
"I think, my lord, if I may venture to say so," said Mr. Glumford,
having just finished the narration of his bargain, "that it would be
better for you to take the high road just at present; for the descent
from the footpath is steep and abrupt, and deuced crumbling! so that
if your lordship's horse shied or took a wrong step, it might be
attended with unpleasant consequences,--a fall, or that sort of
thing."
"You are very good, sir," said Lord Ulswater, who, like most proud
people, conceived advice an insult; "but I imagine myself capable of
guiding my horse, at least upon a road so excellent as this."
"Certainly, my lord, certainly; I beg your pardon; but--bless me, who
is that tall fellow in black, talking to himself yonder, my lord? The
turn of the road hides him from you just at present; but I see him
well. Ha! ha! what gestures he uses! I dare say he is one of the
petitioners, and--yes, my lord, by Jupiter, it is Wolfe himself! You
had better (excuse me, my lord) come down from the footpath: it is not
wide enough for two people; and Wolfe, I dare say, a d--d rascal,
would not get out of the way for the devil himself! He's a nasty,
black, fierce-looking fellow; I would not for something meet him in a
dark night, or that sort of thing!"
"I do not exactly understand, Mr. Glumford," returned Lord Ulswater,
with a supercilious glance at that gentleman, "what peculiarities of
temper you are pleased to impute to me, or from what you deduce the
supposition that I shall move out of my way for a person like Mr.
Woolt, or Wolfe, or whatever be his name."
"I beg your pardon, my lord, I am sure," answered Glumford: "of course
your lordship knows best, and if the rogue is impertinent, why, I'm a
magistrate, and will commit him; though, to be sure," continued our
righteous Daniel, in a lower key, "he has a right to walk upon the
footpath without being ridden over, or that sort of thing."
The equestrians were now very near Wolfe, who, turning hastily round,
perceived, and immediately recognized Lord Ulswater. "Ah-ha!"
muttered he to himself, "here comes the insolent thirster for blood,
grudging us seemingly even the meagre comfort of the path which his
horse's hoofs are breaking up; yet, thank Heaven," added the
republican, looking with a stern satisfaction at the narrowness of the
footing, "he cannot very well pass me, and the free lion does not move
out of his way for such pampered kine as those to which this creature
belongs."
Actuated by this thought, Wolfe almost insensibly moved entirely into
the middle of the path, so that with the posts on one side, and the
abrupt and undefended precipice, if we may so call it, on the other,
it was quite impossible for any horseman to pass the republican,
unless over his body.
Lord Ulswater marked the motion, and did not want penetration to
perceive the cause. Glad of an opportunity to wreak some portion of
his irritation against a member of a body so offensive to his mind,
and which had the day before obtained a sort of triumph over his
exertions against them, and rendered obstinate in his intention by the
pique he had felt at Glumford's caution, Lord Ulswater, tightening his
rein and humming with apparent indifference a popular tune, continued
his progress till he was within a foot of the republican. Then,
checking his horse for a moment, he called, in a tone of quiet
arrogance, to Wolfe to withdraw himself on one side till he had
passed.
The fierce blood of the republican, which the least breath of
oppression sufficed to kindle, and which yet boiled with the
remembrance of Lord Ulswater's threat to him two nights before, was on
fire at this command. He stopped short, and turning half round, stood
erect in the strength and power of his singularly tall and not
ungraceful form. "Poor and proud fool," said he, with a voice of the
most biting scorn, and fixing an eye eloquent of ire and menaced
danger upon the calmly contemptuous countenance of the patrician,
"poor and proud fool, do you think that your privileges have already
reached so pleasant a pitch that you may ride over men like dust?
Off, fool! the basest peasant in England, degraded as he is, would
resist while he ridiculed your arrogance."
Without deigning any reply, Lord Ulswater spurred his horse; the
spirited animal bounded forward almost on the very person of the
obstructer of the path; with uncommon agility Wolfe drew aside from
the danger, seized with a powerful grasp the bridle, and abruptly
arresting the horse backed it fearfully towards the descent. Enraged
beyond all presence of mind, the fated nobleman, raising his whip,
struck violently at the republican. The latter, as he felt the blow,
uttered a single shout of such ferocity that it curdled the timorous
blood of Glumford, and with a giant and iron hand he backed the horse
several paces down the precipice. The treacherous earth crumbled
beneath the weight, and Lord Ulswater spurring his steed violently at
the same instant that Wolfe so sharply and strongly curbed it, the
affrighted animal reared violently, forced the rein from Wolfe, stood
erect for a moment of horror to the spectator, and then, as its
footing and balance alike failed, it fell backward, and rolled over
and over its unfortunate and helpless rider.
"Good heavens!" cried Glumford, who had sat quietly upon his dozing
horse, watching the result of the dispute, "what have you done? you
have killed his lordship,--positively killed him,--and his horse, too,
I dare say. You shall be hanged for this, sir, as sure as I am a
magistrate, and that sort of thing."
Unheeding this denunciation, Wolfe had made to the spot where rider
and horse lay blent together at the foot of the descent; and assisting
the latter to rise, bent down to examine the real effect of his
violence. "Methinks," said he, as he looked upon the hueless but
still defying features of the horseman, "methinks I have seen that
face years before,--but where? Perhaps my dreams have foretold me
this."
Lord Ulswater was utterly senseless; and as Wolfe raised him, he saw
that the right side of the head was covered with blood, and that one
arm seemed crushed and broken. Meanwhile a carriage had appeared, was
hailed by Glumford, stopped; and on being informed of the circumstance
and the rank of the sufferer, the traveller, a single gentleman,
descended, assisted to raise the unhappy nobleman, placed him in the
carriage, and, obeying Glumford's instructions, proceeded slowly to
Westborough Park.
"But the ruffian, the rebel, the murderer?" said Mr. Glumford, both
querulously and inquiringly, looking towards Wolfe, who, without
having attempted to assist his victim, stood aloof, with arms folded,
and an expression of sated ferocity upon his speaking features.
"Oh! as to him," quoth the traveller, stepping into his carriage, in
order to support the mangled man, "you, sir, and my valet can bring
him along with you, or take him to the next town, or do, in short,
with him just as you please, only be sure he does not escape; drive
on, post-boy, very gently." And poor Mr. Glumford found the muscular
form of the stern Wolfe consigned to the sole care of himself and a
very diminutive man in pea-green silk stockings, who, however
excellently well he might perform the office of valet, was certainly
by no means calculated in physical powers for the detention of a
criminal.
Wolfe saved the pair a world of trouble and anxiety.
"Sir," said he, gravely, turning to Glumford, "you beheld the affray,
and whatever its consequences will do me the common justice of
witnessing as to the fact of the first aggressor. It will, however,
be satisfactory to both of us to seize the earliest opportunity of
putting the matter upon a legal footing, and I shall therefore return
to W----, to which town you will doubtless accompany me."
"With all my heart!" cried Mr. Glumford, feeling as if a mountain of
responsibility were taken from his breast. "And I wish to Heaven you
may be transported instead of hanged."
