know something of the situation,” said Turpin.
“Well,” returned the count, “not to lose time, into this den I crept, and, expecting to find it vacant, you may imagine my surprise on discovering that it was already occupied, and that Sir Luke Rookwood, his granddad, old Alan, Miss Mowbray, and, worst of all, the very person I wished most to avoid, my old flame Handassah, constituted the party. Fortunately, they did not perceive my entrance, and I took especial care not to introduce myself. Retreat, however, was for the moment impracticable, and I was compelled to be a listener. I cannot tell what had passed between the parties before my arrival, but I heard Miss Mowbray implore Sir Luke to conduct her to her mother. He seemed half inclined to comply with her entreaties; but old Alan shook his head. It was then Handassah put in a word; the minx was ever ready at that. ‘Fear not,’ said she, ‘that she will wed Sir Ranulph. Deliver her to her friends, I beseech you, Sir Luke, and woo her honorably. She will accept you.’ Sir Luke stared incredulously, and grim old Alan smiled. ‘She has sworn to be yours,’ continued Handassah; ‘sworn it by every hope of heaven, and the oath has been sealed by blood — by Sybil’s blood.’—‘Does she speak the truth?’ asked Sir Luke, trembling with agitation. Miss Mowbray answered not. ‘You will not deny it, lady,’ said Handassah. ‘I heard that oath proposed. I saw it registered. You cannot deny it.’—‘I do not,’ replied Miss Mowbray, with much anguish of manner; ‘if he claim me, I am his.’—‘And he will claim you,’ said Alan Rookwood, triumphantly. ‘He has your oath, no matter how extorted — you must fulfil your vow.’—‘I am prepared to do so,’ said Eleanor. ‘But if you would not utterly destroy me, let this maid conduct me to my mother, to my friends.’—‘To Ranulph?’ asked Sir Luke, bitterly. —‘No, no,’ returned Miss Mowbray, in accents of deepest despair, ‘to my mother — I wish not to behold him again.’—‘Be it so,’ cried Sir Luke; ‘but remember, in love or hate, you are mine; I shall claim the fulfilment of your oath. Farewell. Handassah will lead you to your mother.’ Miss Mowbray bowed her head, but returned no answer, while, followed by old Alan, Sir Luke departed from the cavern.”
“Whither went they?” demanded Turpin.
“That I know not,” replied Jerry. “I was about to follow, when I was prevented by the abrupt entrance of another party. Scarcely, I think, could the two Rookwoods have made good their retreat, when shouts were heard without, and young Ranulph and Major Mowbray forced their way, sword in hand, into the cave. Here was a situation — for me, I mean — to the young lady, I make no doubt, it was pleasant enough. But my neck was in jeopardy. However, you know I am not deficient in strength, and, upon the present occasion, I made the best use of the agility with which nature has endowed me. Amidst the joyous confusion — the sobbings, and embracings, and congratulations that ensued — I contrived, like a wild cat, to climb the rocky sides of the cave, and concealed myself behind a jutting fragment of stone. It was well I did so, for scarcely was I hidden, when in came old Barbara, followed by Mrs. Mowbray, and a dozen others.”
“Barbara!” ejaculated Dick. “Was she a prisoner?”
“No,” replied Jerry; “the old hell-cat is too deep for that. She had betrayed Sir Luke, and hoped they would seize him and his granddad. But the birds were flown.”
“I’m glad she was baulked,” said Dick. “Was any search made after them?”
“Can’t say,” replied Jerry. “I could only indistinctly catch the sounds of their voices from my lofty retreat. Before they left the cavern, I made out that Mrs. Mowbray resolved to go to Rookwood, and to take her daughter thither — a proceeding to which the latter demurred.”
“To Rookwood,” said Dick, musingly. “Will she keep her oath, I wonder?”
“That’s more than I can say,” said Jerry, sipping his punch. “’Tis a deceitful sex!”
“’Tis a deceitful sex, indeed,” echoed Dick, tossing off a tumbler. “For one Sybil we meet with twenty Handassahs, eh, count?”
“Twenty! — say rather a hundred,” replied Jerry. “’Tis a vile sex.”
The Arbour at Kilburn
* * * * *
93. We have heard of a certain gentleman tobyman, we forget his name, taking the horses from his curricle for a similar purpose, but we own we think King’s the simpler plan, and quite practicable still. A cabriolet would be quite out of the question, but particularly easy to stop.
CHAPTER 2
TOM KING
Grimm. How gloriously the sun sets to-night.
Moor. When I was a boy, my favorite thought was, that I should live and die like yonder glorious orb. It was a boyish thought.
Grimm. True, captain.
The Robbers.
“Peace, base calumniators,” exclaimed Tom King, aroused from his toothpick reverie by these aspersions of the best part of creation. “Peace, I say. None shall dare abuse that dear devoted sex in the hearing of their champion, without pricking a lance with him in their behalf. What do you, either of you, who abuse woman in that wholesale style, know of her? Nothing — less than nothing; and yet you venture, upon your paltry experience, to lift up your voices and decry the sex. Now I do know her; and upon my own experience avouch, that, as a sex, woman, compared with man, is as an angel to a devil. As a sex, woman is faithful, loving, self-sacrificing. We ’tis that make her otherwise; we, selfish, exacting, neglectful men; we teach her indifference, and then blame her apt scholarship. We spoil our own hand, and then blame the cards. No abuse of women in my hearing. Give me a glass of grog, Dick. ‘The sex! — three times three!’— and here’s a song for you into the bargain.” Saying which, in a mellow, plaintive tone, Tom gave the following:
PLEDGE OF THE HIGHWAYMAN
Come, fill up a bumper to Eve’s fairest daughters,
Who have lavished their smiles on the brave and the free;
Toast the sweethearts of Dudley, Hind, Wilmot, and Waters,94 Whate’er their attraction, whate’er their degree. Pledge! pledge in a bumper, each kind-hearted maiden, Whose bright eyes were dimmed at the highwayman’s fall; Who stood by the gallows with sorrow o’erladen, Bemoaning the fate of the gallant Du-Val!
Here’s to each lovely lass chance of war bringeth near one,
Whom, with manner impassioned, we tenderly stop;
And to whom, like the lover addressing his dear one,
In terms of entreaty the question we pop. How oft, in such case, rosy lips have proved sweeter Than the rosiest book, bright eyes saved a bright ring; While that one other kiss has brought off a repeater, And a bead as a favor— the favorite string.
With our hearts ready rifled, each pocket we rifle,
