On the one hand, the evidence and inferences against Sir George pressed him strongly. On the other, he had seen enough of the futile haste of the ostlers and stable-helps, who had gone in pursuit, to hope little from them; while from Sir George, were he honest, everything was to be expected. In his final decision we may believe what he said afterwards, that he was determined by neither of these considerations, but by his old dislike of Lady Dunborough! For after a long silence, during which he seemed to be a dozen times on the point of speaking and as often disappointed his audience, he announced his determination in that sense. 'No, sir; I--I will not!' he stammered, 'or rather I will not--on a condition.'
'Condition!' the Justice growled, in disgust.
'Yes,' the lawyer answered staunchly; 'that Sir George, if he be going in pursuit of them, permit me to go with him. I--I can ride, or at least I can sit on a horse,' Mr. Fishwick continued bravely; 'and I am ready to go.'
'Oh, la!' said Lady Dunborough, spitting on the floor--for there were ladies who did such things in those days--'I think they are all in it together. And the fair cousin too! Cousin be hanged!' she added with a shrill ill-natured laugh; 'I have heard that before.'
But Sir George took no notice of her words. 'Come, if you choose,' he cried, addressing the lawyer. 'But I do not wait for you. And now, madam, if your interference is at an end--'
'And what if it is not?' she cried, insolently grimacing in his face. She had gained half an hour, and it might save her son. To persist farther might betray him, yet she was loth to give way. 'What if it is not?' she repeated.
'I go out by the other door,' Sir George answered promptly, and, suiting the action to the word, he turned on his heel, strode through the crowd, which subserviently made way for him, and in a twinkling he had passed through the garden door, with Mr. Fishwick, hat in hand, hurrying at his heels.
The moment they were gone, the babel, suppressed while the altercation lasted, rose again, loud as before. It is not every day that the busiest inn or the most experienced traveller has to do with an elopement, to say nothing of an abduction. While a large section of the ladies, seated together in a corner, tee-hee'd and tossed their heads, sneered at Miss and her screams, and warranted she knew all about it, and had her jacket and night-rail in her pocket, another party laid all to Sir George, swore by the viscountess, and quoted the masked uncle who made away with his nephew to get his estate. One or two indeed--and, if the chronicler is to be candid, one or two only, out of as many scores--proved that they possessed both imagination and charity. These sat apart, scared and affrighted by their thoughts; or stared with set eyes and flushed faces on the picture they would fain have avoided. But they were young and had seen little of the world.
On their part the men talked fast and loud, at one time laughed, and at another dropped a curse--their form of pity; quoted the route and the inns, and weighed the chances of Devizes or Bath, Bristol or Salisbury; vaguely suggested highwaymen, an old lover, Mrs. Cornelys' ballet; and finally trooped out to stand in the road and listen, question the passers-by, and hear what the parish constable had to say of it. All except one very old man, who kept his seat and from time to time muttered, 'Lord, what a shape she had! What a shape she had!' until he dissolved in maudlin tears.
Meanwhile a woman lay upstairs, tossing in passionate grief and tended by servants; who, more pitiful than their mistresses, stole to her to comfort her. And three men rode steadily along the western road.
CHAPTER XVIII
THE PURSUIT
The attorney was brave with a coward's great bravery; he was afraid, but he went on. As he climbed into his saddle in the stable-yard, the muttering ostlers standing round, and the yellow-flaring light of the lanthorns stretching fingers into the darkness, he could have wept for himself. Beyond the gates and the immediate bustle of the yard lay night, the road, and dimly-guessed violences; the meeting of man with man, the rush to grips under some dark wood, or where the moonlight fell cold on the heath. The prospect terrified; at the mere thought the lawyer dropped the reins and nervously gathered them. And he had another fear, and one more immediate. He was no horseman, and he trembled lest Sir George, the moment the gates were passed, should go off in a reckless gallop. Already he felt his horse heave and sidle under him, in a fashion that brought his heart into his mouth; and he was ready to cry for quarter. But the absurdity of the request where time was everything, the journey black earnest, and its issue life and death, struck him, and heroically he closed his mouth. Yet, at the remembrance that these things were, he fell into a fresh panic.
However, for a time there was to be no galloping. Sir George when all were up took a lanthorn from the nearest man, and bidding one of the others run at his stirrup, led the way into the road, where he fell into a sharp trot, his servant and Mr. Fishwick following. The attorney bumped in his saddle, but kept his stirrups and gradually found his hands and eyesight. The trot brought them to Manton Corner and the empty house; where Sir George pulled up and dismounted. Giving his reins to the stable-boy, he thrust open the doors of the yard and entered, holding up his lanthorn, his spurs clinking on the stones and his skirts swaying.
'But she--they cannot be here?' the lawyer ejaculated, his teeth chattering.
Sir George, busy stooping and peering about the yard, which was grass-grown and surrounded by walls, made no answer; and the other two, as well as Mr. Fishwick, wondered what he would be at. But in a moment they knew. He stooped and took up a small object, smelt it, and held it out to them. 'What is that?' he asked curtly.
The stable-man who was holding his horse stared at it. 'Negro-head, your honour,' he said. 'It is sailors' tobacco.'
'Who uses it about here?'
'Nobody to my knowing.'
'They are from Bristol, then,' Soane answered. And then 'Make way!' he continued, addressing the other two who blocked the gateway; and springing into his saddle he pressed his horse between them, his stirrups dangling. He turned sharp to the left, and leaving the stable-man to stare after them, the lanthorn swaying in his hand, he led the way westward at the same steady trot.
The chase had begun. More than that, Mr. Fishwick was beginning to feel the excitement of it; the ring of the horses' shoes on the hard road, the rush of the night air past his ears exhilarated him. He began to feel confidence in his leader, and confidence breeds courage. Bristol? Then Bristol let it be. And then on top of this, his spirits being more composed, came a rush of rage and indignation at thought of the girl. The lawyer clutched his whip, and, reckless of consequences, dug his heels into his horse, and for the moment, in the heat of his wrath, longed to be up with the villains, to strike a blow at them. If his courage lasted, Mr. Fishwick might show them a man yet--when the time came!
Trot-trot, trot-trot through the darkness under the stars, the trees black masses that shot up beside the road and vanished as soon as seen, the downs grey misty outlines that continually fenced them in and went with them; and always in the van Sir George, a grim silent shape with face set immovably forward. They worked up Fyfield hill, and thence, looking back, bade farewell to the faint light that hung above Marlborough. Dropping into the bottom they cluntered over the wooden bridge and by Overton steeple--a dim outline on the left--and cantering up Avebury hill eased their horses through Little Kennet. Gathering speed again they swept through Beckhampton village, where the Bath road falls off to the left, and breasting the high downs towards Yatesbury, they trotted on to Cheril.
Here on the hills the sky hung low overhead, and the wind sweeping chill and drear across the upland was full of a melancholy soughing. The world, it seemed to one of them, was uncreate, gone, and non-existent;