“you can follow no such course. The lady, if I understand you, has already rejected your interference in the matter.”
“It is but too true,” said Tressilian; “I cannot deny it.”
“Then, marry, by what right or interest do you process a compulsory interference with her inclination, disgraceful as it may be to herself and to her parents? Unless my judgment gulls me, those under whose protection she has thrown herself would have small hesitation to reject your interference, even if it were that of a father or brother; but as a discarded lover, you expose yourself to be repelled with the strong hand, as well as with scorn. You can apply to no magistrate for aid or countenance; and you are hunting, therefore, a shadow in water, and will only (excuse my plainness) come by ducking and danger in attempting to catch it.”
“I will appeal to the Earl of Leicester,” said Tressilian, “against the infamy of his favourite. He courts the severe and strict sect of Puritans. He dare not, for the sake of his own character, refuse my appeal, even although he were destitute of the principles of honour and nobleness with which fame invests him. Or I will appeal to the Queen herself.”
“Should Leicester,” said the landlord, “be disposed to protect his dependant (as indeed he is said to be very confidential with Varney), the appeal to the Queen may bring them both to reason. Her Majesty is strict in such matters, and (if it be not treason to speak it) will rather, it is said, pardon a dozen courtiers for falling in love with herself, than one for giving preference to another woman. Coragio then, my brave guest! for if thou layest a petition from Sir Hugh at the foot of the throne, bucklered by the story of thine own wrongs, the favourite Earl dared as soon leap into the Thames at the fullest and deepest, as offer to protect Varney in a cause of this nature. But to do this with any chance of success, you must go formally to work; and, without staying here to tilt with the master of horse to a privy councillor, and expose yourself to the dagger of his cameradoes, you should hie you to Devonshire, get a petition drawn up for Sir Hugh Robsart, and make as many friends as you can to forward your interest at court.”
“You have spoken well, mine host,” said Tressilian, “and I will profit by your advice, and leave you to-morrow early.”
“Nay, leave me to-night, sir, before to-morrow comes,” said he landlord. “I never prayed for a guest’s arrival more eagerly than I do to have you safely gone, My kinsman’s destiny is most like to be hanged for something, but I would not that the cause were the murder of an honoured guest of mine. ‘Better ride safe in the dark,’ says the proverb, ‘than in daylight with a cut-throat at your elbow.’ Come, sir, I move you for your own safety. Your horse and all is ready, and here is your score.”
“It is somewhat under a noble,” said Tressilian, giving one to the host; “give the balance to pretty Cicely, your daughter, and the servants of the house.”
“They shall taste of your bounty, sir,” said Gosling, “and you should taste of my daughter’s lips in grateful acknowledgment, but at this hour she cannot grace the porch to greet your departure.”
“Do not trust your daughter too far with your guests, my good landlord,” said Tressilian.
“Oh, sir, we will keep measure; but I wonder not that you are jealous of them all. – May I crave to know with what aspect the fair lady at the Place yesterday received you?”
“I own,” said Tressilian, “it was angry as well as confused, and affords me little hope that she is yet awakened from her unhappy delusion.”
“In that case, sir, I see not why you should play the champion of a wench that will none of you, and incur the resentment of a favourite’s favourite, as dangerous a monster as ever a knight adventurer encountered in the old story books.”
“You do me wrong in the supposition, mine host – gross wrong,” said Tressilian; “I do not desire that Amy should ever turn thought upon me more. Let me but see her restored to her father, and all I have to do in Europe – perhaps in the world – is over and ended.”
“A wiser resolution were to drink a cup of sack, and forget her,” said the landlord. “But five-and-twenty and fifty look on those matters with different eyes, especially when one cast of peepers is set in the skull of a young gallant, and the other in that of an old publican. I pity you, Master Tressilian, but I see not how I can aid you in the matter.”
“Only thus far, mine host,” replied Tressilian – “keep a watch on the motions of those at the Place, which thou canst easily learn without suspicion, as all men’s news fly to the ale-bench; and be pleased to communicate the tidings in writing to such person, and to no other, who shall bring you this ring as a special token. Look at it; it is of value, and I will freely bestow it on you.”
“Nay, sir,” said the landlord, “I desire no recompense – but it seems an unadvised course in me, being in a public line, to connect myself in a matter of this dark and perilous nature. I have no interest in it.”
“You, and every father in the land, who would have his daughter released from the snares of shame, and sin, and misery, have an interest deeper than aught concerning earth only could create.”
“Well, sir,” said the host, “these are brave words; and I do pity from my soul the frank-hearted old gentleman, who has minished his estate in good housekeeping for the honour of his country, and now has his daughter, who should be the stay of his age, and so forth, whisked up by such a kite as this Varney. And though your part in the matter is somewhat of the wildest, yet I will e’en be a madcap for company, and help you in your honest attempt to get back the good man’s child, so far as being your faithful intelligencer can serve. And as I shall be true to you, I pray you to be trusty to me, and keep my secret; for it were bad for the custom of the Black Bear should it be said the bear-warder interfered in such matters. Varney has interest enough with the justices to dismount my noble emblem from the post on which he swings so gallantly, to call in my license, and ruin me from garret to cellar.”
“Do not doubt my secrecy, mine host,” said Tressilian; “I will retain, besides, the deepest sense of thy service, and of the risk thou dost run – remember the ring is my sure token. And now, farewell! for it was thy wise advice that I should tarry here as short a time as may be.”
“Follow me, then, Sir Guest,” said the landlord, “and tread as gently as if eggs were under your foot, instead of deal boards. No man must know when or how you departed.”
By the aid of his dark lantern he conducted Tressilian, as soon as he had made himself ready for his journey, through a long intricacy of passages, which opened to an outer court, and from thence to a remote stable, where he had already placed his guest’s horse. He then aided him to fasten on the saddle the small portmantle which contained his necessaries, opened a postern door, and with a hearty shake of the hand, and a reiteration of his promise to attend to what went on at Cumnor Place, he dismissed his guest to his solitary journey.
CHAPTER IX
Far in the lane a lonely hut he found,
No tenant ventured on the unwholesome ground:
Here smokes his forge, he bares his sinewy arm,
And early strokes the sounding anvil warm;
Around his shop the steely sparkles flew,
As for the steed he shaped the bending shoe.
As it was deemed proper by the traveller himself, as well as by Giles Gosling, that Tressilian should avoid being seen in the neighbourhood of Cumnor by those whom accident might make early risers, the landlord had given
