CHAPTER XI.
WANDSWORTH COMMON.
It was a lovely May evening when I left busy Portsmouth. The shadows of the tossing branches of the old limes and sycamores that bordered the wayside were cast far across the yellow corn; the white and purple lilacs, the golden laburnum trees, and the tall hollyhocks with their gorgeous crimson flowers, made beautiful the gravelled avenues that led to many a villa and farm, while the fertile uplands that sloped in distance far away, were half hidden in the warm haze of the summer sunset.
I felt proud of my showy uniform, proud of my beautiful grey charger, and proud of the mission on which I was departing, though in the humble capacity of an orderly dragoon; and I was happy in the prospect of two days of perfect freedom from the routine and trammels of the camp, for a soldier, however young and enthusiastic, soon learns that he is no longer "the lord of his own proper person."
My chain bridle and steel scabbard jangled in unison to the clank of my horse's hoofs, as he trotted rapidly along the level highway, and in my young heart swelled anew all the pride of being a soldier, a horseman, and an armed one.
Within a week I should probably be treading the soil of hostile France, even as I was then treading the soil of peaceful and happy England. France! might I ever return from thence? Many of us were fated there to find our last home, and might I not be one of the doomed? I thrust aside the thought—not that I feared death, I was too young and too hopeful for that; but shrunk from the idea of perishing with the mass, before I had achieved what I conceived to be my mission; before I had won myself a right to bear with honour the name my forefathers had bequeathed to me, and before I had resumed that title, the diploma of which the miserable Nathan Wylie had sent in mockery to the private soldier!
Night came on and the road grew dark and lonely; there was no light save that of the stars, which I saw reflected at times in the bosom of the Wye, and twelve tolled from the steeples of St. Mary and St. Nicholas, as I entered the quaint old market town of Guildford, and rode straight to the Red Lion, where I stabled my horse and ordered a relay for the morrow.
A forty miles' ride gave me a good appetite; I supped and retired to bed, where I slept without a dream even of the future, for I was weary.
The next day was far advanced before I set forth again; but I proceeded slower now, the hack furnished to me by the innkeeper proving very different in mettle from my fine grey charger. In short, the animal nearly broke down by the way, and though the distance between Guildford and the metropolis is only about thirty miles, evening closed in before I saw at a distance the vast and dusky dome of St. Paul's, rising in sombre grandeur from amid the yellow haze, formed by the smoke and by the myriad lights of London.
I had left behind me the little village of Wandsworth, which is finely situated on the declivities of two small hills, and was traversing the common, then a wild and open waste covered with grass, gorse, and tall waving weeds through which the roadway passed. Clouds had now obscured the stars, and the night was so dark that I had some difficulty in tracing my path, though the accumulated glare of the innumerable street lamps and other lights of the vast city was very distinct but a few miles off, rendering the foreground darker.
When about the middle of the common, I heard the sharp report of a pistol and then the scream of a woman. These alarming sounds, and the flash of the explosion, came from the very path I had to traverse, so I spurred on my jaded hack, and found a carriage stopped on the common by two armed and mounted highwaymen, with crape masks on their faces. Such gentry were at that period still in the zenith of their perilous fame.
They had fired a shot to make the postillion pull up, and were now stationed one at each window of the carriage, demanding the purses and other valuables of the travellers.
My holster pistols were at the demi-pique saddle of my troop horse, which I had left at Guildford; so drawing my sword, I rode boldly up and demanded what was the matter, and who fired the shot I had heard.
"You had better ride on and attend to your own affairs," replied a surly fellow, with a horrible oath, as he coolly reloaded his pistol.
"Surrender your weapon, rascal," I exclaimed, resolutely, "or I shall cut you to the teeth!"
"Fire at him, Bill," cried he to his comrade. "Zounds! are we both to be cowed by a saucy shoulder-knot?"
On hearing this, his comrade urged his horse furiously round from the other side of the carriage. Then I heard another female shriek as he levelled a bright-barrelled blunderbuss, the bell-muzzle of which was so near my face that the light flashed on it as he drew the trigger, for happily it only burned priming; otherwise my head would have been blown to atoms, as on inspection afterwards I found this formidable firearm was loaded with slugs of lead and iron.
"Hung fire, by all that's infernal!" exclaimed the fellow; but his exclamation of wrath ended in a howl of agony, when by a stroke of my sword I hewed off half of his right hand, and the weapon fell on the road, together with three of his fingers. On this they put spurs to their horses and galloped away at a break-neck pace.
With a shout of victory I pursued them for a few hundred yards across the common, and then returned at a canter to the carriage, the occupants of which proved to be two ladies, who, by their manner and difference of years, appeared to be mother and daughter. They had with them a waiting-maid, and it was she whose cries I had twice heard.
Their air was distinguished; the younger was a very beautiful girl with fair hair and a delicate complexion, but this was all I could discern by the light of a carriage lamp, which one of the footmen—a rascal who had hitherto hidden himself among some fern—now held within the window, while the ladies were putting on their rings, gloves, and bracelets which they had drawn off to surrender at the moment I came so luckily to their rescue.
"Mamma, dear mamma, all danger is past. They are gone, and we are safe; be assured, be satisfied," I heard the soft voice of the younger say imploringly to the elder, who was excessively agitated.
"Ladies," said I, touching my cap, "be composed now, I pray you; those fellows have fled, and are not likely to return. Fortunately, I have put a mark upon one that he will not easily efface."
"Sir," replied the elder lady, in a voice still tremulous with alarm, "accept our deepest gratitude. To you we owe our rescue. Our money and jewels would have been a trifling loss, but how know we that these men might not have murdered us here on this lonely heath? and we hear of such dreadful things in these days."
"But was your servant here without pistols?"
"No, a pair of loaded horse-pistols are always in the rumble with John," replied the young lady.
"Why did you not use them, fellow?" said I, turning sharply to the valet.
He reddened and stammered something about the danger or rashness of one man encountering two, but his knees were trembling under him, and the hand which held the carriage lamp shook as if with palsy. In fact, he seemed so convulsed with fear that the young lady and I could not forbear laughing at him.
"When passing this way again, I shall take care to travel by daylight, or with a bolder escort than you, John Trot," said she, while the maid-servant, whose face I had not yet seen, as she sat in a dark corner, loudly and bitterly expressed her contempt for the unfortunate knight of the shoulder-knot, and for his lack of valour.
"We left the residence of a friend near Croydon about sunset, and should have been in London long since," observed her mother, "but a wheel came off at the cross road which leads to Kingston, and thus we were detained until this unpleasant hour. Have you, sir, also come from Croydon?"
"Nay, madam, I have just come from Portsmouth."
"Portsmouth!" echoed both ladies, with voices expressive of interest and animation.
"With despatches from Commodore Howe for the Lords of the Admiralty," said I, with an emotion of vanity difficult to repress, especially at my age then.
"Are you one of those who are bound for France?"
"Yes, madam."
"When does the fleet sail with the army?"
"Next week, 'tis said; but nothing definite has yet transpired," I replied, with all the air of a staff officer.
"Poor boy!" I heard her say, with something like a sigh, and with winning softness of tone, as the valiant John Trot asked if the carriage was to move on.
"As the night has become so dark, madam," said I, "you must allow me to have the honour of escorting you to town. You have still to pass Clapham Common, and its reputation for safety is somewhat indifferent. Even in Lambeth I have heard that robberies have been frequent of late."
"But how can we trespass so far upon your kindness, sir?" urged the young lady, whose voice made my heart beat faster.
"Believe me, madam, I deem it a great honour and happiness to have been of service to you, and for to-night, at least, your way shall be mine. I am pretty well mounted, and very well armed."
"Fortunately, you are also proceeding to London," said her mother; "therefore I accept your polite offer with gratitude."
I bowed nearly to my horse's mane, and then said to the valet—
"Hand up that blunderbuss, John; it may serve as a trophy, and remind your lady of to-night's engagement on Wandsworth Common."
"And the three fingers—oh—ugh?" asked John, with chattering teeth.
"Those you may pocket, if you please," said I, while withdrawing the charge, which, as I have said, proved to be slugs. I put the weapon in the rumble, and then the carriage was driven off.
As it rolled over the dark heath, I rode at a quick trot behind it; but frequently, when our pace became slower as we ascended a slope and the horses walked, the ladies conversed with me, and then I rode abreast of the open windows.
It was evident that by being muffled in my trooper's cloak, and having on a small foraging cap, I was taken for an officer; thus the elder lady gave me her card, and expressed, in the usual polite terms, the delight it would afford them to see me at their residence in some modish square (I failed to catch the name), if I had leisure to-morrow morning, as they had to leave town again at mid-day.
I felt piqued, and an emotion somewhat of bitterness and mortification stole into my heart; and while secretly cursing alike the rules of society and my own false position, I thanked her for the kind invitation, but without the least intention of availing myself of it. After this, I became a little reserved; but it was a difficult task to be so with the young lady, who was a lovely girl, and lively too. She conversed with me gaily, and asked if I longed for foreign service; if I thought the war would be protracted; if we were sure to beat the French; if I was not afraid—she begged pardon for such a silly question—of being shot in battle; and a hundred other pretty nothings, while her sweet face and sparkling eyes seemed to come out of the gloom of the travelling carriage, and then to fade into it again, as we passed an occasional dim street-lamp, all of which in those by-gone days I need scarcely say were lighted by oil.
At the bridge of Westminster, which had been built about ten years before, I bade them adieu, and with something like a sigh of regret, departed in search of some humble hostelry wherein to pass the night.
This brief meeting—the whole episode in all its details interested me deeply. Those women so highly bred, so delicately nurtured, so richly dressed, so gentle and winning in manner, were so different from those whom I was now compelled to meet, in camp and barracks, at the canteen and sutler's tent, that for the first time my heart repined at the prospect before me.
"Pshaw!" said I, "let me think of this no more." But near a lamp I reined up to examine the lady's card, and searched my pockets in vain. I had lost it!
"It matters little," thought I; "and yet, withal, I should like to have known their names." And amid the roar and bustle of the lighted streets of London, I still seemed to hear the merry laugh and gentle voice of the fair-haired girl whose hand I had so recently held in mine.