Jeffery Farnol

“ Now as she stood thus, seeing but unseen, the mysterious Fates decreed that Sir John Dering, reaching the hilltop in turn, should rein in his horse within a yard of her, to glance round about him upon the peaceful countryside, little dreaming of the bright eyes that watched him so keenly, or the ears that hearkened so inquisitively.
“A sweet prospect, Hector!” he exclaimed; “fair and chaste and yet a little sad. ’Tis like looking deep into the eyes of a good woman—if there be such! It fills the soul with a sense of unworthiness and sorrow for the folly o’ the wasted years.” ”

“ He is but the heartless Sir John Dering after all!”
“The question being,” said Sir John within himself, his gaze yet uplifted to the firmament, “is she truly——”
The stars seemed to shoot wildly from their courses, the earth to sway giddily beneath his feet, then to plunge horribly down and down into a roaring blackness.
He awoke to a sense of pain, jolting and strangulation; slowly he became aware that he lay bound hand and foot across the withers of a horse, and with his mouth crammed almost to suffocation with a thing he took to be a neckerchief. ”

“ At this she raised her head and he saw a handsome face framed in dark, rebellious curls, eyes wide and innocent, and a vivid, full-lipped mouth.
“O sir, ye du be a mortal clever guesser—I were born in Sussex!” she answered.
“Sussex?” murmured Sir John. “Seely Sussex! I was born there too, ’twixt the sheltering arms of Firle and Windover.... The gentle South Downs ... I loved every velvet slope of them! I mind the sweet, warm scent of the wild thyme, and the dance of the scabious flowers in the wind ... ’tis years since I saw them last.” ”

“ HOW GEORGE POTTER CIRCUMVENTED THE PREVENTIVES
Since that dim, far-distant day when pious hands first raised Alfriston Cross, it has endured much by stress of weather and the passing of so very many years. In its shadow may have stood Godwyn the great Jarl, and his feoffman Aelfric; about it lusty Saxon ceorls bartered and trafficked; past it may have reeled some of the bloody wrack of Harold’s army, desperate men weary from the fatal strife at Senlac. Here has it stood through the centuries, lashed by rain and wind, or drowsing in the sun, while England waxed great and powerful. ”

“ Sir Hector’s keen gaze wavered for once, and he stirred uneasily in his chair.
“John,” quoth he, precise in his English, “if ever I voiced such damnable heresy, which I gravely doubt, I ha’ forgot it, long since, as a man and a MacLean should.”
“Forgot it, Hector? Amazing! You that have ever held Woman in such disdainful abhorrence!”
“And suppose I did, sir?” retorted Sir Hector, flushing. “A MacLean may change his mind and be the better of it.... And how may I help but revere and admire The Sex with such an example as Rose, her sweet and gentle ways——”
“But Rose never was!” sighed Sir John. ”

“ Sir John is right, indeed—I myself love to hear the carolling brook—I mean the rippling bird—— There, see how you ha’ fluttered me! Sit down, Herminia—do! And you, Sir John! Be seated—both o’ you, instead of standing to stare on each other like—like two fond fools foolishly fond! So! Now, surely, Sir John, a man’s reputation is his own, to make or mar?”
“Nay, ’faith, your Grace, doth not a man’s reputation make or mar him, rather? And whence cometh reputation but of our friends and enemies who judge us accordingly. So the world knows us but as they report. ”

“ Sir John, deep-plunged in gloomy abstraction, was suddenly aroused by the noisy entrance of two travellers, very elegant gentlemen who, cramped from their chaise, stamped and yawned and stretched, and damned the dust, the road, the inn, the landlord and all creation save themselves. Loudest of the twain was a tall, youngish man who wore a stupendous periwig, a gentleman very small as to eyes and large as to teeth that gleamed between the lips of a heavy mouth. ”

“ Meanwhile I am, as ever, thy wholly devoted, loving
“John Derwent.
“P.S.—I have taken the girl Rose with me.”
Having duly sealed and directed which missive, he arose, took up his pistols, examined flint, charge and priming and thrust them into the capacious pockets of his riding-coat; then he enveloped himself in the cloak, softly unbarred and opened the door and, hat in hand, bowed his companion out of the silent inn.
“Come, child,” said he, “let us, confident in Fate and each other, seek the unknown together, nothing doubting.” ”

“ Sir John was in the act of sheathing his sword, when he turned at sound of a light footstep.
“Ah, Rose,” sighed he, gazing into her troubled eyes, “yonder go two of your ‘grand gentlemen’—Paris teems with such! Better surely an honest English lover in homespun than be hunted by Brutality in lace and velvet. Did they fright thee, child ... and despite thy prayers and little cross?” Here she hid her face in her hands. “Nay, Rose, if they reverence not thy virgin purity how should they revere aught else! And Paris reeks of such as they ... to hunt thy fresh young beauty! ”

“ And then she who was the subject of their talk stepped out upon deck and stood gazing shorewards beneath her hand.
“You are quite sure, then, that I mean her evil?” inquired Sir John softly, his glance upon her unconscious form.
“Why, Jock ... why, Jock lad, ... ye see ... there’s y’r reputation!”
“My reputation!” he repeated. “Ever and always my reputation. Aye, to be sure, Hector, to be sure—my reputation dogs me and will do all my days.... I am no fit companion for Innocence; my reputation forbids.... It goes beside me like a shadow, and yet for the moment I had forgot it. Rose!” ”

“ Sir John, having carefully wiped his boots under Sir Hector’s strict supervision, took occasion to glance round and behold the wonders achieved, for indeed chaos had given place to comfort and a dainty orderliness; it beamed and shone, it winked and twinkled in polished brass and silver, it stirred gently in the curtains at open lattice, it lay in the rugs upon raddled floor, it gleamed in the polished andirons on the spotless hearth, and breathed in fragrance from the bowl of flowers upon the mantel.
“’Tis marvellous what a woman can achieve, Hector!” ”

“ Off came Sir John’s hat in a moment, and he bowed profoundly.
“Gad’s my life!” he exclaimed. “Do I indeed behold your ladyship? Bide you still i’ the country, madam? A fair good-night to you!” And he turned away, only to find her beside him.
“Why—why will you hazard your life thus wantonly?” she questioned. “Nay, sir, do not prevaricate; I know ’tis your custom to walk thus solitary of a night.”
“Your ladyship’s interest flatters me!” he murmured.
“Surely, sir,” said she, in the same calm and gentle tones, “life is not to be thus lightly jeopardised.” ”

“ It was at this moment that, turning into the main road, they beheld a dusty chaise approaching at a smart trot, whereupon, the way being somewhat narrow, Mr. Potter pulled aside to make room; but scarcely had he done so than a cheery voice hailed him, the chaise pulled up, and out from the window came a bewigged head.
“Why, Potter—George Potter,” cried a merry voice. “God bless ye, George; ’tis very well met! And my friend Hosea too! How art thou, my Aged Soul? I vow thou’rt looking younger than ever!”
“Lord, Sir John!” exclaimed Mr. Potter heartily, “I be main glad to see ye back, sir.” ”

“ The man Oxham swung up his stick, Sir John stepped lightly back, and his hands flashed to view, each grasping a small, silver-mounted pocket-pistol, very arresting for all their lack of size. “Look’ee, fellow,” quoth he, “I ha’ no particular desire for your blood, but come one step nearer, you or any o’ your men, and I break that man’s leg!”
“Don’t believe him, lads!” cried Sturton. “He’d never dare; the law’s behind us; he’d never dare shoot; ’twould mean hanging or transportation.”
“Very well,” answered Sir John; “pray step forward, Mr. Sturton, and see for yourself.” ”

“ Suddenly the burly young man sprang, aiming a terrific blow, but, instead of attempting a parry, Sir John leapt nimbly aside, and the young man, impelled by the force of his stroke, once more stumbled and fell; and then before he could rise, old Penelope commenced to belabour him with her long staff as he lay, panting out maledictions with every blow until the crowd, laughing, shouting, cursing, surged forward to the rescue. ”

“ So presently, having mounted in the yard, they rode off along the busy street and, winning clear of the traffic, set spurs to their spirited animals and had soon left the historic town of Lewes behind them. Yet often Sir John must turn to view this ancient town, seeming to drowse in the afternoon’s heat, its many-hued roofs of tile and thatch topped here and there by grey church spires; and over all the castle, with its embattled walls and towers, its mighty keep rising in grim majesty, hoary with age but glorious in decay. ”

“ The one being myself—and he is bad enough o’ conscience—but the other—ah, Hector, this other one is more implacable, more unrelenting and a thousand times more merciless!”
“Who is he, lad, a God’s name?”
“’Tis no he,” sighed Sir John.
“Aha!” exclaimed Sir Hector, coming to an abrupt stand; “you mean—her?”
“I do, Hector! ’Tis an ill thing to have an enemy, but if that enemy be a woman, young, beautiful, of high estate and very wealthy—the situation becomes desperate.”
“A wumman!” repeated Sir Hector, rasping thumb and finger across bony chin. “You mean ‘the Barrasdaile,’ of course, John?” ”

“ Turning heavy head, Sir John saw about him a huddle of crouching men who all peered in the one direction, heard an incoherent, passionate muttering that changed to a groan, a gasping cry, and a man rose to his knees with rigid arms out-thrust, staggered to his feet and leapt down the grassy steep; hereupon the others awoke to sudden action; ensued a desperate scrambling, a wild babblement, a thudding of desperate feet, and Sir John lay staring on the empty dark alone save for the horse that cropped the grass near by. ”

“ And off she hasted forthwith, the meek and obedient Betty attendant. It was a small, drowsy inn, but at my lady’s advent it awoke to sudden life and bustle, its every chamber seemed full of stir, tripping feet and chattering voices; and all for the English Miladi’s comfort and welfare.
Insomuch that, embarrassed by attentions so pervading and multifarious, my Lady Barrasdaile caught up Betty’s cloak of homespun, a hooded garment for country wear, and, muffled in its ample folds, went a-walking. ”

“ Sir Hector went. Being in his small parlour, he glanced yearningly upon the unwashed crockery littering the table, from this to the dusty riding-boots upon the mantel-shelf and, sweeping a heterogeneous collection of small oddments from the elbow-chair to the floor, sat down with his feet among the long-dead ashes that cumbered the hearth, sighing for that spirit of homely comfort that was, even then, being washed and swept out of his ken. ”

“ If your tenants be minded to duck a notorious witch, ’tis no affair o’ mine. And I warn ye, sir, that in yon old hag’s cottage we have found indisputable evidence that——”
“Tush!” exclaimed Sir John, “do not weary me [321] with the details o’ your man-hunting trade, sir. Your arm is strong enough to flourish a whip, I perceive, and mine, you’ll observe, is less sound than it might be. Come, then, my lord—the grass is smooth and level on Dering Tye—let us forthwith earnestly endeavour to make an end o’ one another—for, by heaven, I’ll wait no longer!” ”

“ Thus stood Sir Hector, indeed a very Hector, Achilles and Ajax rolled into one, his two captives still in durance, his brow a little sad as he watched the enemy’s retreat. Then, becoming aware of his helpless prisoners, he loosed them and patted each dazed fellow upon tousled crown.
“Losh,” quoth he, “I fair disremembered ye! Rin awa’, laddies, rin awa’ an’ dinna forget Hector Lauchlan MacLean.”
And now it was that he felt a touch upon his arm and, turning, came face to face with my lady.
“Save ’s a’,” he exclaimed, “’tis Rose!”
“Herself, dear Sir Hector!” ”

“ With this awful clamour in his ears, Sir John spurred his horse to yet faster pace; but across country he might save half a mile or so; therefore steadying the mare he set her at a gate, cleared it gallantly, and away pounded the sorrel at stretching gallop, taking dykes and brooks in her stride: across and over and through ditch and fence and hedge, swerving for nothing, staying for nothing, until, clearing hedge [320] and ditch at mighty bound, her fast-galloping hoofs thundered upon dusty road again. ”

“ So lost was Sir John in the ever-changing wonder of the scene that he started suddenly, beholding one who had approached unheard upon the velvet ling, a man who also surveyed the widespread landscape with eyes of awed delight. A man, this, of no great size yet of powerful build, a man in weather-stained coat, open-kneed breeches and rough shoes and stockings, yet who wore these garments with an unconscious ease, while the face beneath shapeless hat was well-featured and arresting ”

“ He was not to remain long undisturbed, it seemed, for presently upon the stilly air was the faint, regular tapping of a stick that drew gradually nearer, and glancing up he saw an old woman approaching, one who trudged sturdily with the aid of a formidable staff and bore a large wooden basket on her arm; a tall old creature with a great jut of nose and chin and fierce bright eyes that glittered beneath thick brows, whose jetty-black contrasted very strangely with her snow-white hair. ”

“ And here, seeing the old creature’s pitiful amaze, my lady stooped suddenly and pressed warm lips on her wrinkled brow.
“Lord God!” exclaimed old Penelope, and sinking into the elbow-chair, hid her face in her toil-worn hands. And presently she spoke in voice harsh and broken, “There be nobody ... has kissed me ... since my dyin’ mother, long an’ long ago!”
“My dear soul!” said my lady, and Sir John saw her eyes suddenly brim with tears. “My dear soul, there is a woman shall kiss away thy sorrows if she may.... For to-day, Penelope, thou hast found a friend and I a—a fairy godmother! ”

“ IN WHICH SIR JOHN DEVOTES HIMSELF TO THE MUSE
Dering of Dering being home again and his fame on every lip, it befell, to Sir John’s dismay, that the ‘Market Cross Inn’ was generally a-throng with visitors: sporting farmers who trotted up on their “bits o’ blood,” country gentry, bucks of the quality, and not a few ladies of fashion, all hither come to pay homage in their several ways to “the Wicked Dering.” ”

“ Sure enough, rounding a bend, they presently espied a large posting-inn astir with bustle and excitement; horses stamped, chains rattled, ostlers ran to and fro, voices shouted; from all of which it was to be surmised that important company had lately arrived or was about to depart.
Threading his way through all this confusion, Sir John beckoned to a large and somewhat pompous person.
“Landlord,” quoth he, “three-quarters of an hour hence you will have a coach and post-horses at the door. Meanwhile—breakfast!” ”

“ Will ye go?”
A distressful sigh; the sound of heavy feet unwillingly retreating, feet that hesitate more than once ere they finally die away. And presently the light tread comes on again, slow and unhurried as before. Then Murder, peering from the shadows, crouches low, raises and steadies right hand....
A ringing shot from the denser gloom, a cry of amazement lost in strangling groan.... A second shot, louder, nearer ... a dreadful gasping ... a horrid thrashing among the underbrush ... silence. Then Sir John, staring upon that place of horror, began to creep thither ... ”

“ What is to be, will be, let us strive and struggle how we will. And ’twill soon be dark, so ha’ your pistol ready——”
“I—I do not fear the dark!” she answered, quite forgetting to yawn.
“Nay, ’tis not of the dark I warn you but of myself, child!” he sighed. “Great pity is it you should ha’ found me out so soon, for as John Derwent I was in every sense a gentle, worthy and reverent soul, but—as Sir John Dering, ’tis a vastly different matter, for [66] the censorious world expects me to live up to, or down to, my reputation, so ha’ your pistol ready, girl!” ”

“ And my method with them shall be just as arbitrary and—more to the point, sir, the point!” And my lord tapped the hilt of his small-sword.
“Tommy,” exclaimed Sir John at this juncture, “’tis devilish sour wine, this! The properest place for’t is—out o’ the window!” And, with a wide-armed, backward swing he sent the contents of his glass showering over the flaxen wig, wide shoulders and broad back of my Lord Sayle. ”