Henry Brereton Marriott Watson
The High Toby
So without more ado he invited me into the chaise, and then conceive me sitting in miss's place, the horse's heads turned again for the south, and Sir Damon and Dick Ryder chatting agreeably and affably together as they had been sworn friends or long acquaintances.
At least 'twas I that chatted, and he was mostly silent in an amicable enough way, interjecting a question, or commenting with satiric humour, what time we lurched along towards Ewell and Epsom. But now you will have an inkling of my design when I say that if this old fox was permitted to return straightway to town he would no doubt set the officers on his enemy and have him forthwith lodged in the jug. Maybe, thought I to myself, with a little trickery and a little persuasion of my own kind, that could be prevented and the boy have a run for his life at the least. So that was why we were jogging along the Epsom Road through a dark and miry night on the track (as he thought) of the runaways.
Presently, interrupting a tale of mine about Jeremy Starbottle, says he, bluffly,—
"We seem no nearer, sir. It would look as if your horses were superior to mine."
"Why," said I, in answer, "'tis odds they'll keep this road, for the sideways are foul and lead nowhither. Moreover, they will not expect to be pursued. We shall fetch 'em presently."
"Very well," says he, lying back, "but I beg you will give me a little leave. I was shortened of my nap this afternoon."
Now this was a plain hint, as you see, for me to hold my tongue, but I took no offence, for there was no occasion. "Sir," said I, "I am mum. I do not overstay my welcome," and I too lay back.
For some time we proceeded in silence; but presently, the chaise jogging more than usual, he sat up.
"It seems to me," said he, "that we are upon a wild-goose chase, we shall not catch him in this wilderness."
"Oh," said I, "he cannot be so far in advance—not he with my nags, I'll warrant."
He looked at me doubtfully in the small light. "Very well," he said at last, shortly, "we will try a little longer;" and he peered out upon the night if so be he might determine where we were.
I looked out also, and now we were passing through Carshalton, where I had bid the doves assemble for to meet me. But, damme, my business was not yet done, and the coach rolls creaking out of Carshalton and on the way to Epsom. This seemed to stir the old gentleman again to perplexity, for again he directed a look out of the window, and then another at me. I felt his gaze wander over me from top to boot as if he measured me.
"You have fought abroad," says he at last.
"Not I," says I; and added to that, "There's too many that babble about these foreign wars. Deliver us, a good English war is more to my taste, and better fighting too," says I.
"Ah!" says he, still coolly inspecting me, as if he cared not whether I saw him or not, "then you will have fought in his Majesty's intestine wars?" said he.
"What's that?" said I, turning on him.
"No doubt," said he, suavely, "you have fought, sir, for his Majesty King James against the unfortunate Duke of Monmouth."
"Who gave you leave to suppose I have fought at all?" said I, sharply, being irked by his persistence. "I am no fighting man, but one of peace."
"Oh," says he, "but I took you for a soldier and a captain-at-arms at least. And indeed I believe you would have furnished material for a good soldier." He surveyed me meditatively. "Yes, I'll promise that; good material, sir, sound fighting stock, and no splitting straws or scruples."
"Damme," said I, bluntly, "what d'ye mean?"
He sank back in his seat. "I mean no offence," said he, "but I think as 'tis shrewd to-night I will e'en turn about for home."
"Nay," said I, masterfully, "you must not do that since we are come so far. Let us finish the adventure, sir, and not leave hold of it. 'Twould never do. We will be catching of 'em by the heels presently."
He pursed his lips together, as if he whistled under his breath, and there was a pause, while the noise of the chaise drowned all sound about us. But my senses are not sharp for nothing, and next I was aware of a glint of light upon steel, for the moon as we rocked swayed in at the window, and I guessed that he was bringing his pistol from under his cloak.
I pulled forth mine abruptly. "Yes," says I, "'tis as well to be prepared, sir. I am glad you are so forward. We may have a fall-to when we encounter, but I'll warrant ye're as good with your barker as I with mine."
"I hope so," said he, without betraying any feeling. "I do earnestly hope so; even, sir, to be a little better would be to my taste. As you say, we may come to an encounter soon, and 'tis as well to be prepared."
Now the old buck puzzled me, and I perpended. If he had any suspicion that this was not a genuine pursuit, and I was other than I had feigned to be, why sat he there silent and cool? But if he had no scent of danger what was the significance of his words, which did smell to me of the ironic? It angered me to be so baffled by him and his quiet features; but I did not well see what I might do or say just then, and so kept silence like himself. And indeed 'twas he broke it.
"We must be drawing nigh Ewell, so far as I may guess," he said. "Would you be good enough to tell me what course you propose when we reach Ewell? If I might without impropriety make a humble suggestion, I would advise that we ate some supper and lay there comfortably for the night, to resume this interesting journey doubtless on the morrow, or perhaps the next day."
With that I saw at once how it was, and I gave vent to a little laugh. "Why, you shall do as you please, sir," said I, "and that plan will serve me admirably."
"Ah!" says he, looking at me, "then maybe there is something amiss with it. Suppose we come to an understanding. I think you are too young, and I am too old, to want to die by violence. We both have a taste for life, I take it. Where stand we then? We are pursuing a gentleman of the road—"
"Pardon me," said I, interrupting, for the time was come now to disclose myself, and I looked to be mightily tickled by the disclosure, "no longer pursuing, but maybe even pursued."
"Pursued!" he asked doubtfully.
"Well, at least we are some miles ahead of the turtle-doves that are cooing, maybe, somewhere safe and sound behind us."
His eyes never changed; only the thin lips moved a little. "Ah!" says he, "the turtle-doves! I had some notion—but who then are you, my dear sir?"
"I am but a philosophic observer," said I, airily. "'Tis my business to look on and smile. I take no part in the rough acts of fortune."
"Pardon me," said he, suavely, "but I think you are too modest, Captain."
"Captain!" said I, sharply.
"Well, well, I had forgot you were no soldier. You have the air of a soldier, and the makings, as I have remarked. But, sir, let me tell you, you are too modest. This journey, for example—"
"Oh, that was my whim," said I. "I interposed out of a benevolent heart, for to serve two young folks fond of billing and to make an illustrious acquaintance for myself."
He bowed in his corner. "I trust you will not make a more illustrious acquaintance still," he said dryly.
"Why," said I, for I knew what he meant, "you forget that at your invitation I am here in pursuit of our common enemy."
"True," he said, considering. "It has a smooth face upon it. I perceive you, sir, to be a gentleman of your wits."
Now 'twas my turn to bow, and indeed he was not wrong, for it has ever been my good fortune to find a way out of a difficulty when others would stand agape, like oafs and asses. But he went on, in his still voice: "But now that I see our friend, the common enemy, as you put it, enjoyed a confederate, it appears I must reconsider the circumstances. In fine, his wager fails—"
"I am no confederate," I broke in.
"And thus there is no necessity that he receive the penalty which I had designed as a wedding-present for him," he finished, not appearing to heed me.
"Sir Damon, I have told you that I am but an onlooker," said I.
He elevated his eyebrows and shrugged his shoulders.
"Rip me," said I, angrily, "I never clapped eyes on the fellow till the quarter-of-an-hour ere you came up, and I will be damned if I should tick him off from Adam did I see him again."
"You perceive that you are rehabilitating the penalty," he remarked dryly, and I could see he did not credit me, which made me angrier.
"By the Lord," said I, "I have the honour to tell ye that the young muckworm rumpadded me in my chaise just as you were come up—damme, he did, if it were not that I turned his barkers on him."
Sir Damon eyed me and then all of a sudden broke out into soft laughter, as if he were greatly tickled.
"Is't so?" said he. "The Lord love him for a simpleton! Faith, I could forgive—" He chuckled quietly, and then looked at me again, still smiling.
"You know, sir, what penalty menaces them that abduct or hold a ward from her guardian?"
"'Tis a guardian I have abducted from his ward," said I.
He laughed quietly. "Very well," said he, "let us leave it at that." And then, "You know, sir, what a fool the fool is?"
"He is no tobyman," said I.
"'Tis commensurate with his life in general," said Sir Damon, easily. "He is born Tom-fool and has two handsome, dancing eyes." He paused. "I will not maintain," says he next, "that for happiness wisdom is necessary, or even adequate. I have not found it so myself, nor perhaps you, friend—Captain?"
"In that case," says I, "repay a fool with his folly, which is marriage."
"Then we are agreed," said he, genially. "I too am a bachelor. And now that we are agreed on one thing, Captain, Mr—" He hesitated.
"Ryder," said I.
"Mr Ryder," said he, "let us be agreed all along the line. If I forego the penalty—"
"I will treat your worship to as damnable a fine supper and bottle as was ever served in England," I interrupted, "and we will drink to the turtles at Carshalton."
"Carshalton," he says reflectively. "I had an idea 'twas Carshalton, but your pistol was persuasive."
"Well, sir," said I, "here is Ewell, and in a tavern that I know we shall be hospitably received and used this foul night."
"Good," says he, preparing to alight as the chaise came to a stop, "and pray bear in mind, Mr Ryder, that I am penniless and homeless."
"Damme," said I, heartily, "ye're welcome to all that's mine, and that's not beggary; and, damme, while I can keep such company I envy not the turtle with his mate at Carshalton."
He was now in the road, and he turned. "Nor I, Ryder, nor I," he said pleasantly.
MY LADY'S RING
As I wheeled the mare out of the gateway into the gloom of the night the lighted windows of the inn winked on me with yellow eyes. A cold sleet was falling, very piercing to the flesh, and I rolled my collar higher about my neck. It came upon me then that I was a fool to leave that warm and comfortable tavern on such a savage night; but 'twas Christmas Eve, and seven of the clock, and I was for Bristol on the following day, where was a doxy that I knew, as pretty a parcel as ever I did see, saving Polly Scarlet, and she was in London.
The landlord had joined me in a bottle well-laced with brandy, and being of a lively and generous disposition had furnished another himself. 'Twas a lonely inn that stood on the border of the moor, and says he that he was mightily gratified to be in company.
So 'twas with a full belly and a merry heart that I turned into the welter of the night. 'Twas rarely cold, and I whistled as I went, though the breath of my nostrils went up like reek. Now I was in the mind, being amply loaded and light-spirited, to be amiable with the devil himself, if so be he should come that way, though 'twas, for sure, not the night for him. Certainly I was not thinking of rumpadding any mortal man, but would have taken him to my bosom for a fellow-traveller. For 'tis a vulgar error to suppose that gentlemen of the road are for ever with an eye to goldfinches. Money is muck for us as often as not, at least to such of us as maintain a proper dignity. But as for Dan Creech and his lousy pack, or that much-boasted Jeremy Starbottle, why, they are no better than common cutpurses or tally-thieves. No; to ride the high toby has its obligations as well as its privileges, and on that Christmas Eve, damme, the whole world and his wife might have gone secure for me.
Well in this humour, despite of the night, I rode on, sometimes at a jog, but mostly at a walk, for the snow was heavier as I reached the moor. Upon the stretch of broken land it lay uneven, for I suppose 'twas caught by the rough winds on that upland heath and blown into the hollows, and upon the furze and thorn. But the continuous spread of whiteness had absorbed the road, and Calypso had to feel her way mighty patiently. 'Twas thus we arrived at the cross-roads near the middle of the moor, where the ways divide 'twixt Bollingham and Messiter; and reining in on the impulse, to make sure of my path, I perceived even through the blackness another figure on horseback under the sign-post.
"Is't anyone?" says a voice, pretty clear.
"Ay," says I, "'tis a traveller."
"Is there a village near by?" says he out of the dark.
"Within three miles two upon either road," said I.
"I am bound for Bath," says he, "and have met with a mishap this cursed night," and began to deliver oaths as they had been sword-thrusts in a duello. Now I can tolerate a man that has been put to sore discomfort and is enraged, and as for a few mouth-filling oaths, why, they are neither here nor there. But there was something in the way of his voice, manner and address that grated on me, and so I answered him pretty coolly.
"Well, you can take your choice of roads with an easy heart," I said.
"Look ye here," says he, after a moment. "From what I catch of you through your voice, my man, you should be a sturdy fellow. What think you of carrying a message for help to the village for a guinea-piece. 'Twill serve you with good wine, mulled ale, or a doxy, I'll warrant."
That maddened me for all my good humour, to be taken for granted as a common fetch-and-carry, and to be so addressed like a footboy by his grace. I heard insolence and overbearing in his accent, and I would have sworn patronage and contempt was in his face.
"Be damned!" says I, angrily, "I am no lackey. Find your own village," says I.
At that he uttered an oath. "You are impudent!" said he, and moved his horse nearer, as though he would take action. But, Lord, I was awaiting him, and this muckworm would have eaten snow in two minutes had he so ventured. But prudence came to him, so he hesitated. "Ye're the sort of man that is the better of the whip and the pillory," says he. "Rogue, were it not for the darkness I would beat you for your insolence."
"Damme, what's amiss with the darkness?" said I. "For sure I can well make out your ugly body against the snow. 'Tis a monstrous, unsightly blackness against so much innocent whiteness." He cursed me, and then dug his rowels into his nag so deeply that the poor beast started and reared. But that was enough for me, for I hate to see a creature that is so kindly in its services so mishandled; and so says I, driving at him,—
"Rip me, you muckworm, I'll give you that which will recall this moor to you. Deliver, damn ye!" says I, "or I'll make you food for maggots;" and I had the barker at his head ere he knew what had happened.
Well, he made much ado, but 'twas of no avail, for I had the mastery from the outset, and he was perforce obliged to plumb his pockets, the which yielded but a score of guineas and a ring or so. But that was of no consequence to me, for I had no care for his money, merely for his discomfiture, along of his arrogance.
As I left him, foully imprecating, I threw a laughing word at him. "Messiter," says I, "lies on the left, and Bollingham to the right. Turn round three times, my cock, and choose which you will," whereat I rode laughing into the darkness, yet ere I did so I saw him savagely wheel into the Messiter Road, cutting viciously at his horse.
As for me, I rode on, singing cheerfully enough, for the encounter had warmed my blood, and I no longer felt the cold so greatly. But I had not got farther than a mile from the cross-roads when I was aware in the pause of my singing of a sound near by, of a voice that called on the unquiet air, very faint and melancholy. I reined in, and listened, and presently the cry came to me again from the right; and so, jumping off the mare, I left her in the road, standing obedient as she was used to do, and walked gingerly in that direction. I did not trust myself in that profound darkness and the treacherous snow, and, sure enough, I was right to be careful, for in a little I was plunged up to my waist in a hollow.
"Where are you?" I called aloud, and the voice, so clearly now a woman's, came back.
I made my way to it with difficulty, and soon solved the riddle; here was a chaise wandered out of the road and buried in a deep drift, and by the body of the carriage a poor lady in the direst state of distress and terror.
"Why, madam," said I, "are ye alone?"
At which she broke out that her husband was gone for help, as was the postilion, but in different directions, and that they had took the horses, and that she, poor delicate creature, was thus solitary on a naked and solitary moor, with never even a wild-fowl to scream with her for company.
"Oh," says I, "we will soon mend that, madam, or call me catchpole," and I took hold of her. "Ye're in a drift, mistress," I said. "I'll give ye company, if ye will have it, until your husband shall return"—and then all of a sudden it flashed upon me that her husband was he who had abused me so grossly, and whom I had rumpadded.
"Phew!" says I to myself, "why, here's a pretty comedy." But the lady was all that occupied my thoughts just then, and so I conducted her to the road, and encouraged her into talk as I did so, for she was in a terrible fluster, what with the loneliness and the cold and the darkness.
"Now," says I, "what you need, madam, is a posset of hot brandy and a warm and virtuous couch," I says, "and with the help of my good nag here 'tis what you'll have."
"Oh, sir, you are very good," says she, tremulously. "You are good beyond Christian seeming."
That tickled me pleasantly, as you may think, and I was the more disposed to take charge of this poor creature thus left to starve of the perishing winds of heaven. It rains not clemency from December skies in this brisk isle of England. So says I, in a cheering voice,—
"I'll warrant you shall toast your toes and warm your stomach with victuals within the better part of an hour. Faith, pin your hopes on me, mistress, and you shall not be disappointed. Tis not the first time Dick Ryder has comforted and succoured the fair. There's Dick's luck, madam."
She smiled in a weak way, but began to take some confidence, as I could see from the new note in her voice.
"Is it far, sir, to shelter?" she asked, and I told her there was an inn some two miles distant, at which she plucked up her heart once more, not knowing (bless her folly) that two miles on that wild moor, and with that drift of snow, was no matter for spoon-fed babes. But as chance had it, she made the discovery pretty quickly, and that through no fault or neglect of mine. For I put her upon Calypso—as gentle a mare, when needs be, as ever was straddled; and, sure enough, she was straddled now. For my lady could keep no seat otherwise, and so says I to her, if she would play the man for the nonce we should maybe be the sooner out of our troubles. 'Twas then for the first time that I saw there was good blood and spirit to her; for instead of crying out in protest that she could not, or she would not, or that she dared not, says she,—
"Oh, think you so?" and over she cocks her foot with the best grace in the world, and a charming genuflexion to boot. "I fear I trouble you greatly," says she.
But, Lord, with such an one (duchess or doxy, dame or dirty-face) I would have gone to the farthest verge of trouble and made no odds of it. 'Tis spirit that ever has appealed to me.
Well, we were no sooner astir, Calypso pegging slowly along with me at her mouthpiece, than there comes over us a flurry of snow, driving full and hard in our faces, the which blinded me for the time. But when I recovered the mare was gone from the road and had took a step into a hollow. She staggered, and plump goes the lady over her head into the drift. I hauled her forth, breathless as she was, and all she cried out when the wind was in her again was,—
"I fear I did not hold to her properly. I fear I am a bungler."
"Bless your heart, no," says I. "It would have took a king's regiment to have sat that fall. You do mighty well," said I, "and I'd wring his nose that said no to that;" with which I assisted her once more into the saddle.
What with the drift and the darkness, and the squalls of snow, it was an hour and more before we reached the inn which lay on the road to Bollingham. Arrived here I rapped out the landlord, who was surprised to see me returned—"not but what you are wise," says he. But when he saw the lady and heard my tale he was, being a decent kindly fellow, all of a bustle. Madam was all a-wet from her sojourn in the snow, to say nothing of her tumble, and so she was set afore a great fire in the ingle to dry herself, which she did with sincere appreciation, the while the host prepared supper. She sat there, her hands extended, drawing in deep breaths of comfort from the grateful blaze, and I watched her. Twas the first I had seen of her face, which was of a delicate beauty, pink from the whipping wind, and crowned with disordered hair. I judged she was of a quality deemed proper in courts, and she was young withal. Presently says she, looking round at me with bright soft eyes,—
"Do you think," said she, "that my husband has reached safety?"
"Why, yes," said I, "for though he be not here, he may have taken the other road and be at Messiter," the which I knew it was likely he had done.
"Oh!" said she, as if thinking, and said no more.
But nearby after that supper was served, and madam was set to take in company with your faithful servant, by your leave! Not but what I have not often supped with the quality, ay, and made merry with them too, man and woman, and of all ages; for we are served in our calling with strange accidents. Yet I will confess that to be seated there at table with her tickled me handsomely, and I fell to with a will. But the lady showed little appetite, and had an anxious look, and thought I that she was troubled for her husband; but I soon made out that she was not so concerned, for said I, to stimulate her,—
"Maybe he is supping like us in a cosy room at Messiter."
"Oh!" said she, and I saw her mind had come back from another quarter. "He is like to sup and be comfortable wherever he is. He will emerge scatheless;" and there was that in her tone which was all but a sneer.
"Oh, well, damn the husband," says I to myself, "I take no interest in him;" and I gave my attention to the lady. The glow had now receded from her face, leaving it pale, according to what I took to be its true habit, and she answered in a pleasant and engaging way, with an emphasis of her gratitude for my assistance. But this I pooh-poohed in curt terms, for I was more than repaid for my trouble by the figure she cut over against the board, and the honour she did me. And I was in the midst of rebuffing her thanks for the third time when the door opened from the flagged passage and a man entered.
He was followed by the innkeeper, suave and bowing, and the first thing was that madam says, in an even, pleasant voice,—
"So you are behind us after all, Charles." At that I studied him the closer, for it must be her husband, and perhaps he that had put an affront on me, and I knew for certain who he was when he spoke.
"It seems so," said he, scowling at me; and then "Why did you not wait? I found you gone from the chaise."
"It was so cold. I was chilled to death," she answered, "and this gentleman happened upon me, and was so good as to offer me his services for a rescue."
He turned a glowering, arrogant eye on me, but said nothing at the moment, save a demand to the innkeeper to fetch mulled wine. Now, 'twas clear he was in ignorance of my identity, and so I was emboldened to make trial of him, maybe, you will say, with some rashness; but I have ever found the boldest course is the wisest.
"Perhaps, sir," said I, "you will honour me with a share of this bottle in the meanwhile."
He hesitated, and then lowered his eyes. "I thank you, no, sir," he returned briefly, and sat down to the fire to wait.
His ungraciousness nettled me, all the more that he thus deranged the comfort of his own lady, who was manifestly put about by his incivility. Seeing that he knew not I had rumpadded him he might have thrown thanks at me for her care, even if 'twere only as you may throw coins at a beggar. But not he. He sat and frowned, and then looked up at her.
"The next time I pray you will have faith and patience to remain where you are set, my lady," says he, curtly.
"Why, husband—" she began, but I broke in, for I was infuriate with his grossness of manner.
"Look you, sir," said I, "would you have a tender lady bare to the snow and sour winds to await your convenience? Sink me, I should be glad to think she was warming of her ankles, what fate soever came to mine."
"Your opinion," said he, pompously, and looking at me inquisitively, "is naturally of weight, sir."
He was a full-faced, big-nosed man, with small eyes, and a hard mouth, but was manifestly of some dignity from his dress and style.
"Sir Charles," says she, with a little pride in her voice, "you forget my plight. I should have perished but for this good gentleman."
"Humph," says this pig, puffing out his nostrils, and leaned over the fire to warm himself, but cast narrow glances at me.
But here comes in mine host with the wine, and Sir Charles (if that was his name) sits to the table, and takes a draught, which served to loosen his tongue.
"These roads," says he, "do no credit to your country, my man."
"Sir, they are such as we must endure," says the innkeeper.
"They are a disgrace to any country," says he; "they are the haunt of thieves and cut-throats," he says, and thumped on the table.
"Why, I've heard of none, your honour," says the fellow.
"I tell you, sir," he went on, "that no more than a mile or so from here I was stopped by a ruffian and robbed—yes, robbed, sir; and you boast of your secure roads. I am a justice and will see to it when I reach London."
"Lord, sir, you say not so?" said the innkeeper, and the lady called out in surprise,
"Robbed, Charles; why, what is this?"
"Stopped and robbed," says the man, with emphasis on his words and looking from one to another of us. "Stopped and robbed by a dastard with pistols and swords, when I had been looking for a friendly voice in the night and the snow—rings, guineas and all," he says, addressing his wife.
"I have my purse," says she, fumbling in her bodice with nervous fingers.
"I will bring down the law on this wretched place," he declared formidably, ignoring her. "I will see that his Majesty's processes do clean these parts of the gentry, and of all who harbour them," he added, with suspicious beady eyes on the innkeeper.
"Nay, sir, there is no house on this road but what is honest," says he, hastily.
"Why," says Sir Charles, as importantly as if he were examining a prisoner, "this fellow must have come from here, and no doubt was in waiting for me. You cannot deny it."
"There was none such here, sir, all the day," says the landlord, humbly; "there was none but honest folk."
"Ah, but how mark you the difference?" he asked triumphantly. "I ask you, how do you discriminate? Does a man wear his virtue on his nose?" And at that, looking at his blobbed nose, I chuckled to myself, for I minded in no way that he was thus cross-questioning the taverner. Lord, I would not have cared two sucking straws for such as he. So I broke in,—
"There is some that has an honest look," said I, "and there's some that wants it."
"That is so," said the lady. "'Twere easy to tell the difference."
"You are very confident," said he, sourly, "and maybe then you could read the faces in this room, madam?"
She glanced about her with a flush at his rudeness. "I think there is no question of this room," she answered.
He said nothing, but shot a glance at me, and then took a draught of wine.
"And how was it this kind gentleman happened upon you, Betty?" he asked.
"Sir, 'twas a delicate voice, as of a lamb bleating in the cold darkness, that I heard, and went for to rescue," I answered him coolly.
"Oh!" he says, and looked at the table as if thinking. "And whence came you?" he asked bluntly.
Now it entered into my mind then for the first time that he had conceived a suspicion of me. It was true that his bearing might be part of his customary gross conduct, but 'twas possible that his questions were pursuing some point. And so, as the landlord was gone from the room, I said indifferently, "I am from Bristol and go south for Taunton."
"Ho!" he said, "then you came along the road after me?"
"Very like," I said with the same indifference. "I know not which way you came, as the chaise was buried deep in the drift."
"That brings to my memory," said he, rising, "a neglected duty. The postilion must take aid to rescue the carriage;" and he marched to the door with his heavy gait and determined mien.
When he was gone I looked across at the lady, but she avoided my eye, embarrassed (I made no doubt) by her husband's arrogant behaviour. And now I recalled that 'twas high time for me to be on my way after this interlude, and I put my hand into my pocket to bring forth a coin wherewith to discharge my reckoning. And I pulled out a handful of guineas. As I was picking out one I heard an exclamation, and raising my eyes, perceived that the lady was staring in astonishment at my hand.
