The White Gauntlet. Reid Mayne
be afeerd o’ ’em for all that. You may go as near ’em as you like —they an’t a-goin’ to molest you. You may run your sword through and through ’em, and never a one o’ ’em’s goin’ to cry out he be hurt.”
“Well, they seem patient fellows in all sincerity. But enough – what do you mean, Gregory?”
“That they be nobodies, Master Henry – reg’lar nobodies. They be only dummies – a lot o’ old coats and hats, that’s no doubt done good sarvice to their wearers ’fore they fell into the hands o’ Gregory Garth – ay, and they ha’ done some good sarvice since – o’ a different kind, as ye see.”
“So these fellows are only scarecrows? I had my suspicions.”
“Nothing more nor less, master. Harmless as I once was myself, but since that time – you know – when the old hall was taken from you, and you went abroad – since then I’ve been – ”
“I don’t want to hear your history, Garth,” said his former Master, interrupting him, “at least not since then. Let the past be of the past, if you will only promise me to forsake your present profession for the future. Sooner or later it will bring you to the block.”
“But what am I to do?” inquired the footpad, in a tone of humble expostulation.
“Do? Anything but what you have been doing. Get work – honest work.”
“As I live, I’ve tried wi’ all my might. Ah! Sir Henry, you’ve been away from the country a tidyish time. You don’t know how things be now. To be honest be to starve. Honesty an’t no longer o’ any account in England.”
“Some day,” said the cavalier, as he sate reflecting in his saddle. “Some day it may be more valued – and that day not distant Gregory Garth!” he continued, making appeal to the footpad in a more serious and earnest tone of voice, “You have a bold heart, and a strong arm. I know it. I have no doubt too, that despite the outlawed life you’ve been leading, your sympathies are still on the right side. They have reason: for you too have suffered in your way. You know what I mean?”
“I do, Sir Henry, I do,” eagerly answered the man. “Ye’re right. Brute as I may be, and robber as I ha’ been, I ha’ my inclining in that ere. Ah! it’s it that’s made me what I be!”
“Hear me then,” said the cavalier bending down in his saddle, and speaking still more confidentially. “The time is not distant – perhaps nearer than most people think – when a stout heart and a strong arm – such as yours, Garth, – may be usefully employed in a better occupation, than that you’ve been following.”
“Dy’e say so, Sir Henry?”
“I do. So take my advice. Disband these trusty followers of yours – whose staunchness ought to recommend them for better service. Make the best market you can of their cast-off wardrobes. Retire for a time into private life; and wait till you hear shouted those sacred words —
“God and the People!”
“Bless ye, Sir Henry!” cried the robber, rushing up, and, with a show of rude affection, clutching the hand of his former master. “I had heard o’ your comin’ to live at the old house in the forest up thear; but I didn’t expect to meet you in this way. You’ll let me come an’ see ye. I promise ye that ye’ll never meet me as a robber again. This night Gregory Garth takes his leave o’ the road.”
“A good resolve!” rejoined the cavalier, warmly returning the pressure of the outlaw’s hand. “I’m glad you have made it. Good-night, Gregory!” he continued, moving onward along the road; “Come and see me, whenever you please. Good-night, gentlemen!” and at the words he lifted the plumed beaver from his head, and, in a style of mock courtesy, waved the dummies an adieu. “Good-night, worthy friends!” he laughingly repeated, as he rode through their midst. “Don’t trouble yourselves to return my salutation. Ha! ha! ha!”
The young courtier, moving after, joined in the jocular leave-taking; and both merrily rode away – leaving the footpad to the companionship of his speechless “pals.”
Volume One – Chapter Ten
An incident so ludicrous could not fail to tickle the fancy of the young courtier; and bring his risible faculties into full play. It produced this effect; and to such a degree that for some minutes he could do nothing but laugh – loud enough to have been heard to the remotest confines of the Heath.
“I shouldn’t wonder,” – said he, recalling to mind the contents of his sister’s letter; “not a bit should I wonder, if this fellow be the same who stopped the lady’s coach. You’ve heard of it?”
“I have,” laughingly replied the cavalier. “No doubt, Gregory Garth and the coach-robber you speak of are one and the same individual.”
“Ha! ha! ha! to think of the six attendants! – there was that number, I believe, escorting the coach – to think of all six running away, and from one man!”
“You forget the band? Ha! ha! ha! It is to be presumed, that Gregory had six scarecrows rigged up for that occasion also. Truer men, by my troth, than the cavaliers who accompanied the lady. Ha! ha! But for the immorality of the act it’s an artifice worthy of my old instructor in the art of venerie. After all, I should have expected better of the ex-forester than finding him thus transformed into a footpad. Poor devil! who knows what may have been his trials and temptations? There are wrongs daily done upon England’s people, in the name – ay, and with the knowledge – of England’s king, that would make a criminal of the meekest Christian; and Gregory Garth was never particularly distinguished for the virtue of meekness. Something may have been done to madden, and drive him to this desperate life. I shall know anon.”
“One thing in his favour,” suggested the young courtier, who notwithstanding the rude introduction, appeared to be favourably inclined towards the footpad. “He did not ill-treat the lady, though left all alone with her. True, he stripped her of her jewellery; but beyond that he behaved gently enough. I have just heard the sequel of the story, as I came through Uxbridge. Ha! ha! odd as the rest of the affair. It appears that before leaving her, he caught one of her runaway attendants; forced him back upon the box; and, putting the whip and reins into the varlet’s hands, compelled him to continue the journey!”
“All as you say, Master Wade. I heard the same story myself; though little suspecting that the facetious footpad was my old henchman Gregory Garth. That part of his performance was natural enough. The rogue had always a dash of gallantry in his composition. I’m pleased to think it’s not all gone out of him.”
“He appears very repentant after – ”
“After having been within an inch of taking the life of one, who – rather should I say of losing his own. It was a lucky turn that brought the moonlight on that bearded visage of his: else he might now have been lying in the middle of the road, silent as his scare-crow companions. By my troth! I should have felt sorry to have been his executioner. I am glad it has turned out as it has – more especially since he has promised, if not actual repentance, at least some sort of reformation. It may not be too late. There’s good in him – or was – if his evil courses have not caused its complete eradication. Well! I am likely to see him soon; when I shall submit his soul to the test, and find whether there is still in it enough of the old honesty to give hope of his regeneration. The entrance to your father’s park?”
The speaker nodded towards a sombre pile of ivy-grown mason-work – in the centre of which could be seen a massive gate, its serried rails just discernible under the tall chestnuts, that in double row shadowed the avenue beyond.
The heir of Bulstrode did not need to be thus reminded. Three years of absence had not effaced from his memory the topographic details of scenes so much loved, so long enjoyed. Well remembered he the ways that led towards the paternal mansion; and already, ere his fellow traveller ceased speaking, he had pulled up opposite the oft-used entrance.
“My journey extends farther up the road,” continued the cavalier, without having made more than a momentary pause in