CHAPTER III - MASTER HUMPHREY'S VISITOR
WHEN I am in a thoughtful mood, I often succeed in diverting the
current of some mournful reflections, by conjuring up a number of
fanciful associations with the objects that surround me, and
dwelling upon the scenes and characters they suggest.
I have been led by this habit to assign to every room in my house
and every old staring portrait on its walls a separate interest of
its own. Thus, I am persuaded that a stately dame, terrible to
behold in her rigid modesty, who hangs above the chimney-piece of
my bedroom, is the former lady of the mansion. In the courtyard
below is a stone face of surpassing ugliness, which I have somehow
- in a kind of jealousy, I am afraid - associated with her husband.
Above my study is a little room with ivy peeping through the
lattice, from which I bring their daughter, a lovely girl of
eighteen or nineteen years of age, and dutiful in all respects save
one, that one being her devoted attachment to a young gentleman on
the stairs, whose grandmother (degraded to a disused laundry in the
garden) piques herself upon an old family quarrel, and is the
implacable enemy of their love. With such materials as these I
work out many a little drama, whose chief merit is, that I can
bring it to a happy end at will. I have so many of them on hand,
that if on my return home one of these evenings I were to find some
bluff old wight of two centuries ago comfortably seated in my easy
chair, and a lovelorn damsel vainly appealing to his heart, and
leaning her white arm upon my clock itself, I verily believe I
should only express my surprise that they had kept me waiting so
long, and never honoured me with a call before.
I was in such a mood as this, sitting in my garden yesterday
morning under the shade of a favourite tree, revelling in all the
bloom and brightness about me, and feeling every sense of hope and
enjoyment quickened by this most beautiful season of Spring, when
my meditations were interrupted by the unexpected appearance of my
barber at the end of the walk, who I immediately saw was coming
towards me with a hasty step that betokened something remarkable.
My barber is at all times a very brisk, bustling, active little
man, - for he is, as it were, chubby all over, without being stout
or unwieldy, - but yesterday his alacrity was so very uncommon that
it quite took me by surprise. For could I fail to observe when he
came up to me that his gray eyes were twinkling in a most
extraordinary manner, that his little red nose was in an unusual
glow, that every line in his round bright face was twisted and
curved into an expression of pleased surprise, and that his whole
countenance was radiant with glee? I was still more surprised to
see my housekeeper, who usually preserves a very staid air, and
stands somewhat upon her dignity, peeping round the hedge at the
bottom of the walk, and exchanging nods and smiles with the barber,
who twice or thrice looked over his shoulder for that purpose. I
could conceive no announcement to which these appearances could be
the prelude, unless it were that they had married each other that
morning.
I was, consequently, a little disappointed when it only came out
that there was a gentleman in the house who wished to speak with
me.
'And who is it?' said I.
The barber, with his face screwed up still tighter than before,
replied that the gentleman would not send his name, but wished to
see me. I pondered for a moment, wondering who this visitor might
be, and I remarked that he embraced the opportunity of exchanging
another nod with the housekeeper, who still lingered in the
distance.
'Well!' said I, 'bid the gentleman come here.'
This seemed to be the consummation of the barber's hopes, for he
turned sharp round, and actually ran away.
Now, my sight is not very good at a distance, and therefore when
the gentleman first appeared in the walk, I was not quite clear
whether he was a stranger to me or otherwise. He was an elderly
gentleman, but came tripping along in the pleasantest manner
conceivable, avoiding the garden-roller and the borders of the beds
with inimitable dexterity, picking his way among the flower-pots,
and smiling with unspeakable good humour. Before he was half-way
up the walk he began to salute me; then I thought I knew him; but
when he came towards me with his hat in his hand, the sun shining
on his bald head, his bland face, his bright spectacles, his fawn-
coloured tights, and his black gaiters, - then my heart warmed
towards him, and I felt quite certain that it was Mr. Pickwick.
'My dear sir,' said that gentleman as I rose to receive him, 'pray
be seated. Pray sit down. Now, do not stand on my account. I
must insist upon it, really.' With these words Mr. Pickwick gently
pressed me down into my seat, and taking my hand in his, shook it
again and again with a warmth of manner perfectly irresistible. I
endeavoured to express in my welcome something of that heartiness
and pleasure which the sight of him awakened, and made him sit down
beside me. All this time he kept alternately releasing my hand and
grasping it again, and surveying me through his spectacles with
such a beaming countenance as I never till then beheld.
'You knew me directly!' said Mr. Pickwick. 'What a pleasure it is
to think that you knew me directly!'
I remarked that I had read his adventures very often, and his
features were quite familiar to me from the published portraits.
As I thought it a good opportunity of adverting to the
circumstance, I condoled with him upon the various libels on his
character which had found their way into print. Mr. Pickwick shook
his head, and for a moment looked very indignant, but smiling again
directly, added that no doubt I was acquainted with Cervantes's
introduction to the second part of Don Quixote, and that it fully
expressed his sentiments on the subject.
'But now,' said Mr. Pickwick, 'don't you wonder how I found you
out?'
'I shall never wonder, and, with your good leave, never know,' said
I, smiling in my turn. 'It is enough for me that you give me this
gratification. I have not the least desire that you should tell me
by what means I have obtained it.'
'You are very kind,' returned Mr. Pickwick, shaking me by the hand
again; 'you are so exactly what I expected! But for what
particular purpose do you think I have sought you, my dear sir?
Now what DO you think I have come for?'
Mr. Pickwick put this question as though he were persuaded that it
was morally impossible that I could by any means divine the deep
purpose of his visit, and that it must be hidden from all human
ken. Therefore, although I was rejoiced to think that I had
anticipated his drift, I feigned to be quite ignorant of it, and
after a brief consideration shook my head despairingly.
'What should you say,' said Mr. Pickwick, laying the forefinger of
his left hand upon my coat-sleeve, and looking at me with his head
thrown back, and a little on one side, - 'what should you say if I
confessed that after reading your account of yourself and your
little society, I had come here, a humble candidate for one of
those empty chairs?'
'I should say,' I returned, 'that I know of only one circumstance
which could still further endear that little society to me, and
that would be the associating with it my old friend, - for you must
let me call you so, - my old friend, Mr. Pickwick.'
As I made him this answer every feature of Mr. Pickwick's face
fused itself into one all-pervading expression of delight. After
shaking me heartily by both hands at once, he patted me gently on
the back, and then - I well understood why - coloured up to the
eyes, and hoped with great earnestness of manner that he had not
hurt me.
If he had, I would have been content that he should have repeated
the offence a hundred times rather than suppose so; but as he had
not, I had no difficulty in changing the subject by making an
inquiry which had been upon my lips twenty times already.
'You have not told me,' said I, 'anything about Sam Weller.'
'O! Sam,' replied Mr. Pickwick, 'is the same as ever. The same
true, faithful fellow that he ever was. What should I tell you
about Sam, my dear sir, except that he is more indispensable to my
happiness and comfort every day of my life?'
'And Mr. Weller senior?' said I.
'Old Mr. Weller,' returned Mr. Pickwick, 'is in no respect more
altered than Sam, unless it be that he is a little more opinionated
than he was formerly, and perhaps at times more talkative. He
spends a good deal of his time now in our neighbourhood, and has so
constituted himself a part of my bodyguard, that when I ask
permission for Sam to have a seat in your kitchen on clock nights
(supposing your three friends think me worthy to fill one of the
chairs), I am afraid I must often include Mr. Weller too.'
I very readily pledged myself to give both Sam and his father a
free admission to my house at all hours and seasons, and this point
settled, we fell into a lengthy conversation which was carried on
with as little reserve on both sides as if we had been intimate
friends from our youth, and which conveyed to me the comfortable
assurance that Mr. Pickwick's buoyancy of spirit, and indeed all
his old cheerful characteristics, were wholly unimpaired. As he
had spoken of the consent of my friends as being yet in abeyance, I
repeatedly assured him that his proposal was certain to receive
their most joyful sanction, and several times entreated that he
would give me leave to introduce him to Jack Redburn and Mr. Miles
(who were near at hand) without further ceremony.
To this proposal, however, Mr. Pickwick's delicacy would by no
means allow him to accede, for he urged that his eligibility must
be formally discussed, and that, until this had been done, he could
not think of obtruding himself further. The utmost I could obtain
from him was a promise that he would attend upon our next night of
meeting, that I might have the pleasure of presenting him
immediately on his election.
Mr. Pickwick, having with many blushes placed in my hands a small
roll of paper, which he termed his 'qualification,' put a great
many questions to me touching my friends, and particularly Jack
Redburn, whom he repeatedly termed 'a fine fellow,' and in whose
favour I could see he was strongly predisposed. When I had
satisfied him on these points, I took him up into my room, that he
might make acquaintance with the old chamber which is our place of
meeting.
'And this,' said Mr. Pickwick, stopping short, 'is the clock! Dear
me! And this is really the old clock!'
I thought he would never have come away from it. After advancing
towards it softly, and laying his hand upon it with as much respect
and as many smiling looks as if it were alive, he set himself to
consider it in every possible direction, now mounting on a chair to
look at the top, now going down upon his knees to examine the
bottom, now surveying the sides with his spectacles almost touching
the case, and now trying to peep between it and the wall to get a
slight view of the back. Then he would retire a pace or two and
look up at the dial to see it go, and then draw near again and
stand with his head on one side to hear it tick: never failing to
glance towards me at intervals of a few seconds each, and nod his
head with such complacent gratification as I am quite unable to
describe. His admiration was not confined to the clock either, but
extended itself to every article in the room; and really, when he
had gone through them every one, and at last sat himself down in
all the six chairs, one after another, to try how they felt, I
never saw such a picture of good-humour and happiness as he
presented, from the top of his shining head down to the very last
button of his gaiters.
I should have been well pleased, and should have had the utmost
enjoyment of his company, if he had remained with me all day, but
my favourite, striking the hour, reminded him that he must take his
leave. I could not forbear telling him once more how glad he had
made me, and we shook hands all the way down-stairs.
We had no sooner arrived in the Hall than my housekeeper, gliding
out of her little room (she had changed her gown and cap, I
observed), greeted Mr. Pickwick with her best smile and courtesy;
and the barber, feigning to be accidentally passing on his way out,
made him a vast number of bows. When the housekeeper courtesied,
Mr. Pickwick bowed with the utmost politeness, and when he bowed,
the housekeeper courtesied again; between the housekeeper and the
barber, I should say that Mr. Pickwick faced about and bowed with
undiminished affability fifty times at least.
I saw him to the door; an omnibus was at the moment passing the
corner of the lane, which Mr. Pickwick hailed and ran after with
extraordinary nimbleness. When he had got about half-way, he
turned his head, and seeing that I was still looking after him and
that I waved my hand, stopped, evidently irresolute whether to come
back and shake hands again, or to go on. The man behind the
omnibus shouted, and Mr. Pickwick ran a little way towards him:
then he looked round at me, and ran a little way back again. Then
there was another shout, and he turned round once more and ran the
other way. After several of these vibrations, the man settled the
question by taking Mr. Pickwick by the arm and putting him into the
carriage; but his last action was to let down the window and wave
his hat to me as it drove off.
I lost no time in opening the parcel he had left with me. The
following were its contents:-
MR. PICKWICK'S TALE
A good many years have passed away since old John Podgers lived in
the town of Windsor, where he was born, and where, in course of
time, he came to be comfortably and snugly buried. You may be sure
that in the time of King James the First, Windsor was a very quaint
queer old town, and you may take it upon my authority that John
Podgers was a very quaint queer old fellow; consequently he and
Windsor fitted each other to a nicety, and seldom parted company
even for half a day.
John Podgers was broad, sturdy, Dutch-built, short, and a very hard
eater, as men of his figure often are. Being a hard sleeper
likewise, he divided his time pretty equally between these two
recreations, always falling asleep when he had done eating, and
always taking another turn at the trencher when he had done
sleeping, by which means he grew more corpulent and more drowsy
every day of his life. Indeed it used to be currently reported
that when he sauntered up and down the sunny side of the street
before dinner (as he never failed to do in fair weather), he
enjoyed his soundest nap; but many people held this to be a
fiction, as he had several times been seen to look after fat oxen
on market-days, and had even been heard, by persons of good credit
and reputation, to chuckle at the sight, and say to himself with
great glee, 'Live beef, live beef!' It was upon this evidence that
the wisest people in Windsor (beginning with the local authorities
of course) held that John Podgers was a man of strong, sound sense,
not what is called smart, perhaps, and it might be of a rather lazy
and apoplectic turn, but still a man of solid parts, and one who
meant much more than he cared to show. This impression was
confirmed by a very dignified way he had of shaking his head and
imparting, at the same time, a pendulous motion to his double chin;
in short, he passed for one of those people who, being plunged into
the Thames, would make no vain efforts to set it afire, but would
straightway flop down to the bottom with a deal of gravity, and be
highly respected in consequence by all good men.
Being well to do in the world, and a peaceful widower, - having a
great appetite, which, as he could afford to gratify it, was a
luxury and no inconvenience, and a power of going to sleep, which,
as he had no occasion to keep awake, was a most enviable faculty, -
you will readily suppose that John Podgers was a happy man. But
appearances are often deceptive when they least seem so, and the
truth is that, notwithstanding his extreme sleekness, he was
rendered uneasy in his mind and exceedingly uncomfortable by a
constant apprehension that beset him night and day.
You know very well that in those times there flourished divers evil
old women who, under the name of Witches, spread great disorder
through the land, and inflicted various dismal tortures upon
Christian men; sticking pins and needles into them when they least
expected it, and causing them to walk in the air with their feet
upwards, to the great terror of their wives and families, who were
naturally very much disconcerted when the master of the house
unexpectedly came home, knocking at the door with his heels and
combing his hair on the scraper. These were their commonest
pranks, but they every day played a hundred others, of which none
were less objectionable, and many were much more so, being improper
besides; the result was that vengeance was denounced against all
old women, with whom even the king himself had no sympathy (as he
certainly ought to have had), for with his own most Gracious hand
he penned a most Gracious consignment of them to everlasting wrath,
and devised most Gracious means for their confusion and slaughter,
in virtue whereof scarcely a day passed but one witch at the least
was most graciously hanged, drowned, or roasted in some part of his
dominions. Still the press teemed with strange and terrible news
from the North or the South, or the East or the West, relative to
witches and their unhappy victims in some corner of the country,
and the Public's hair stood on end to that degree that it lifted
its hat off its head, and made its face pale with terror.
You may believe that the little town of Windsor did not escape the
general contagion. The inhabitants boiled a witch on the king's
birthday and sent a bottle of the broth to court, with a dutiful
address expressive of their loyalty. The king, being rather
frightened by the present, piously bestowed it upon the Archbishop
of Canterbury, and returned an answer to the address, wherein he
gave them golden rules for discovering witches, and laid great
stress upon certain protecting charms, and especially horseshoes.
Immediately the towns-people went to work nailing up horseshoes
over every door, and so many anxious parents apprenticed their
children to farriers to keep them out of harm's way, that it became
quite a genteel trade, and flourished exceedingly.
In the midst of all this bustle John Podgers ate and slept as
usual, but shook his head a great deal oftener than was his custom,
and was observed to look at the oxen less, and at the old women
more. He had a little shelf put up in his sitting-room, whereon
was displayed, in a row which grew longer every week, all the
witchcraft literature of the time; he grew learned in charms and
exorcisms, hinted at certain questionable females on broomsticks
whom he had seen from his chamber window, riding in the air at
night, and was in constant terror of being bewitched. At length,
from perpetually dwelling upon this one idea, which, being alone in
his head, had all its own way, the fear of witches became the
single passion of his life. He, who up to that time had never
known what it was to dream, began to have visions of witches
whenever he fell asleep; waking, they were incessantly present to
his imagination likewise; and, sleeping or waking, he had not a
moment's peace. He began to set witch-traps in the highway, and
was often seen lying in wait round the corner for hours together,
to watch their effect. These engines were of simple construction,
usually consisting of two straws disposed in the form of a cross,
or a piece of a Bible cover with a pinch of salt upon it; but they
were infallible, and if an old woman chanced to stumble over them
(as not unfrequently happened, the chosen spot being a broken and
stony place), John started from a doze, pounced out upon her, and
hung round her neck till assistance arrived, when she was
immediately carried away and drowned. By dint of constantly
inveigling old ladies and disposing of them in this summary manner,
he acquired the reputation of a great public character; and as he
received no harm in these pursuits beyond a scratched face or so,
he came, in the course of time, to be considered witch-proof.
There was but one person who entertained the least doubt of John
Podgers's gifts, and that person was his own nephew, a wild, roving
young fellow of twenty who had been brought up in his uncle's house
and lived there still, - that is to say, when he was at home, which
was not as often as it might have been. As he was an apt scholar,
it was he who read aloud every fresh piece of strange and terrible
intelligence that John Podgers bought; and this he always did of an
evening in the little porch in front of the house, round which the
neighbours would flock in crowds to hear the direful news, - for
people like to be frightened, and when they can be frightened for
nothing and at another man's expense, they like it all the better.
One fine midsummer evening, a group of persons were gathered in
this place, listening intently to Will Marks (that was the nephew's
name), as with his cap very much on one side, his arm coiled slyly
round the waist of a pretty girl who sat beside him, and his face
screwed into a comical expression intended to represent extreme
gravity, he read - with Heaven knows how many embellishments of his
own - a dismal account of a gentleman down in Northamptonshire
under the influence of witchcraft and taken forcible possession of
by the Devil, who was playing his very self with him. John
Podgers, in a high sugar-loaf hat and short cloak, filled the
opposite seat, and surveyed the auditory with a look of mingled
pride and horror very edifying to see; while the hearers, with
their heads thrust forward and their mouths open, listened and
trembled, and hoped there was a great deal more to come. Sometimes
Will stopped for an instant to look round upon his eager audience,
and then, with a more comical expression of face than before and a
settling of himself comfortably, which included a squeeze of the
young lady before mentioned, he launched into some new wonder
surpassing all the others.
The setting sun shed his last golden rays upon this little party,
who, absorbed in their present occupation, took no heed of the
approach of night, or the glory in which the day went down, when
the sound of a horse, approaching at a good round trot, invading
the silence of the hour, caused the reader to make a sudden stop,
and the listeners to raise their heads in wonder. Nor was their
wonder diminished when a horseman dashed up to the porch, and
abruptly checking his steed, inquired where one John Podgers dwelt.
'Here!' cried a dozen voices, while a dozen hands pointed out
sturdy John, still basking in the terrors of the pamphlet.
The rider, giving his bridle to one of those who surrounded him,
dismounted, and approached John, hat in hand, but with great haste.
'Whence come ye?' said John.
'From Kingston, master.'
'And wherefore?'
'On most pressing business.'
'Of what nature?'
'Witchcraft.'
Witchcraft! Everybody looked aghast at the breathless messenger,
and the breathless messenger looked equally aghast at everybody -
except Will Marks, who, finding himself unobserved, not only
squeezed the young lady again, but kissed her twice. Surely he
must have been bewitched himself, or he never could have done it -
and the young lady too, or she never would have let him.
'Witchcraft!' cried Will, drowning the sound of his last kiss,
which was rather a loud one.
The messenger turned towards him, and with a frown repeated the
word more solemnly than before; then told his errand, which was, in
brief, that the people of Kingston had been greatly terrified for
some nights past by hideous revels, held by witches beneath the
gibbet within a mile of the town, and related and deposed to by
chance wayfarers who had passed within ear-shot of the spot; that
the sound of their voices in their wild orgies had been plainly
heard by many persons; that three old women laboured under strong
suspicion, and that precedents had been consulted and solemn
council had, and it was found that to identify the hags some single
person must watch upon the spot alone; that no single person had
the courage to perform the task; and that he had been despatched
express to solicit John Podgers to undertake it that very night, as
being a man of great renown, who bore a charmed life, and was proof
against unholy spells.
John received this communication with much composure, and said in a
few words, that it would have afforded him inexpressible pleasure
to do the Kingston people so slight a service, if it were not for
his unfortunate propensity to fall asleep, which no man regretted
more than himself upon the present occasion, but which quite
settled the question. Nevertheless, he said, there WAS a gentleman
present (and here he looked very hard at a tall farrier), who,
having been engaged all his life in the manufacture of horseshoes,
must be quite invulnerable to the power of witches, and who, he had
no doubt, from his own reputation for bravery and good-nature,
would readily accept the commission. The farrier politely thanked
him for his good opinion, which it would always be his study to
deserve, but added that, with regard to the present little matter,
he couldn't think of it on any account, as his departing on such an
errand would certainly occasion the instant death of his wife, to
whom, as they all knew, he was tenderly attached. Now, so far from
this circumstance being notorious, everybody had suspected the
reverse, as the farrier was in the habit of beating his lady rather
more than tender husbands usually do; all the married men present,
however, applauded his resolution with great vehemence, and one and
all declared that they would stop at home and die if needful (which
happily it was not) in defence of their lawful partners.
This burst of enthusiasm over, they began to look, as by one
consent, toward Will Marks, who, with his cap more on one side than
ever, sat watching the proceedings with extraordinary unconcern.
He had never been heard openly to express his disbelief in witches,
but had often cut such jokes at their expense as left it to be
inferred; publicly stating on several occasions that he considered
a broomstick an inconvenient charger, and one especially unsuited
to the dignity of the female character, and indulging in other free
remarks of the same tendency, to the great amusement of his wild
companions.
As they looked at Will they began to whisper and murmur among
themselves, and at length one man cried, 'Why don't you ask Will
Marks?'
As this was what everybody had been thinking of, they all took up
the word, and cried in concert, 'Ah! why don't you ask Will?'
'HE don't care,' said the farrier.
'Not he,' added another voice in the crowd.
'He don't believe in it, you know,' sneered a little man with a
yellow face and a taunting nose and chin, which he thrust out from
under the arm of a long man before him.
'Besides,' said a red-faced gentleman with a gruff voice, 'he's a
single man.'
'That's the point!' said the farrier; and all the married men
murmured, ah! that was it, and they only wished they were single
themselves; they would show him what spirit was, very soon.
The messenger looked towards Will Marks beseechingly.
'It will be a wet night, friend, and my gray nag is tired after
yesterday's work - '
Here there was a general titter.
'But,' resumed Will, looking about him with a smile, 'if nobody
else puts in a better claim to go, for the credit of the town I am
your man, and I would be, if I had to go afoot. In five minutes I
shall be in the saddle, unless I am depriving any worthy gentleman
here of the honour of the adventure, which I wouldn't do for the
world.'
But here arose a double difficulty, for not only did John Podgers
combat the resolution with all the words he had, which were not
many, but the young lady combated it too with all the tears she
had, which were very many indeed. Will, however, being inflexible,
parried his uncle's objections with a joke, and coaxed the young
lady into a smile in three short whispers. As it was plain that he
set his mind upon it, and would go, John Podgers offered him a few
first-rate charms out of his own pocket, which he dutifully
declined to accept; and the young lady gave him a kiss, which he
also returned.
'You see what a rare thing it is to be married,' said Will, 'and
how careful and considerate all these husbands are. There's not a
man among them but his heart is leaping to forestall me in this
adventure, and yet a strong sense of duty keeps him back. The
husbands in this one little town are a pattern to the world, and so
must the wives be too, for that matter, or they could never boast
half the influence they have!'
Waiting for no reply to this sarcasm, he snapped his fingers and
withdrew into the house, and thence into the stable, while some
busied themselves in refreshing the messenger, and others in
baiting his steed. In less than the specified time he returned by
another way, with a good cloak hanging over his arm, a good sword
girded by his side, and leading his good horse caparisoned for the
journey.
'Now,' said Will, leaping into the saddle at a bound, 'up and away.
Upon your mettle, friend, and push on. Good night!'
He kissed his hand to the girl, nodded to his drowsy uncle, waved
his cap to the rest - and off they flew pell-mell, as if all the
witches in England were in their horses' legs. They were out of
sight in a minute.
The men who were left behind shook their heads doubtfully, stroked
their chins, and shook their heads again. The farrier said that
certainly Will Marks was a good horseman, nobody should ever say he
denied that: but he was rash, very rash, and there was no telling
what the end of it might be; what did he go for, that was what he
wanted to know? He wished the young fellow no harm, but why did he
go? Everybody echoed these words, and shook their heads again,
having done which they wished John Podgers good night, and
straggled home to bed.
The Kingston people were in their first sleep when Will Marks and
his conductor rode through the town and up to the door of a house
where sundry grave functionaries were assembled, anxiously
expecting the arrival of the renowned Podgers. They were a little
disappointed to find a gay young man in his place; but they put the
best face upon the matter, and gave him full instructions how he
was to conceal himself behind the gibbet, and watch and listen to
the witches, and how at a certain time he was to burst forth and
cut and slash among them vigorously, so that the suspected parties
might be found bleeding in their beds next day, and thoroughly
confounded. They gave him a great quantity of wholesome advice
besides, and - which was more to the purpose with Will - a good
supper. All these things being done, and midnight nearly come,
they sallied forth to show him the spot where he was to keep his
dreary vigil.
The night was by this time dark and threatening. There was a
rumbling of distant thunder, and a low sighing of wind among the
trees, which was very dismal. The potentates of the town kept so
uncommonly close to Will that they trod upon his toes, or stumbled
against his ankles, or nearly tripped up his heels at every step he
took, and, besides these annoyances, their teeth chattered so with
fear, that he seemed to be accompanied by a dirge of castanets.
At last they made a halt at the opening of a lonely, desolate
space, and, pointing to a black object at some distance, asked Will
if he saw that, yonder.
'Yes,' he replied. 'What then?'
Informing him abruptly that it was the gibbet where he was to
watch, they wished him good night in an extremely friendly manner,
and ran back as fast as their feet would carry them.
Will walked boldly to the gibbet, and, glancing upwards when he
came under it, saw - certainly with satisfaction - that it was
empty, and that nothing dangled from the top but some iron chains,
which swung mournfully to and fro as they were moved by the breeze.
After a careful survey of every quarter he determined to take his
station with his face towards the town; both because that would
place him with his back to the wind, and because, if any trick or
surprise were attempted, it would probably come from that direction
in the first instance. Having taken these precautions, he wrapped
his cloak about him so that it left the handle of his sword free,
and ready to his hand, and leaning against the gallows-tree with
his cap not quite so much on one side as it had been before, took
up his position for the night.
