The Splendid Spur<br />Being Memoirs of the Adventures of Mr. John Marvel, a Servant of His Late Maj by Arthur Quiller-Couch (the giving tree read aloud .txt) 📖

Only the heel Of splendid steel Shall stand secure on sliding fate, When golden navies weep their freight. “The scarlet hat, the laurell'd stave Are measures, not the springs, of worth; In a wife's lap, as in a grave, Man's airy notions mix with earth. Seek other spur Bravely to stir The dust in this loud world, and tread Alp-high among the whisp'ring dead. “Trust in thyself,—then spur amain: So shall Charybdis wear a grace, Grim Aetna laugh, the Lybian plain Take roses to her shrivell'd face. This orb—this round Of sight and sound— Count it the lists that God hath built For haughty hearts to ride a-tilt.

“FINIS-Master Tucker's Farewell.”

“And a very pretty moral on four gentlemen that pass their afternoon a setting snails to race!”

At these words, spoken in a delicate foreign voice we all started round: and saw a young lady standing behind us.

Now that she was the one who had passed us in the coach I saw at once. But describe her—to be plain—I cannot, having tried a many times. So let me say only that she was the prettiest creature on God's earth (which, I hope, will satisfy her); that she had chestnut curls and a mouth made for laughing; that she wore a kirtle and bodice of grey silk taffety, with a gold pomander-box hung on a chain about her neck; and held out a drinking glass toward us with a Frenchified grace.

“Gentlemen, my father is sick, and will taste no water but what is freshly drawn. I ask you not to brave Charybdis or Aetna, but to step out into the rainy yard and draw me a glassful from the pump there: for our servant is abroad in the town.”

To my deep disgust, before I could find a word, that villainous old pickpocket had caught the glass from her hand and reached the door. But I ran after; and out into the yard we stepp'd together, where I pump'd while he held the glass to the spout, flinging away the contents time after time, till the bubbles on the brim, and the film on the outside, were to his liking.

'Twas he, too, that gain'd the thanks on our return.

“Mistress,” said he with a bow, “my young friend is raw, but has a good will. Confess, now, for his edification—for he is bound on a long journey westward, where, they tell me, the maidens grow comeliest—that looks avail naught with womankind beside a dashing manner.”

The young gentlewoman laughed, shaking her curls.

“I'll give him in that case three better counsels yet: first (for by his habit I see he is on the King's side), let him take a circuit from this place to the south, for the road between Marlboro' and Bristol is, they tell me, all held by the rebels; next, let him avoid all women, even tho' they ask but an innocent cup of water; and lastly, let him shun thee, unless thy face lie more than thy tongue. Shall I say more?”

“Why, no—perhaps better not,” replied the old rogue hastily, but laughing all the same. “That's a clever lass,” he added, as the door shut behind her.

And, indeed, I was fain, next morning, to agree to this. For, awaking, I found my friend (who had shar'd a room with me) already up and gone, and discovered the reason in a sheet of writing pinn'd to my clothes——

“Young Sir,—I convict myself of ingratitude: but habit is hard to break. So I have made off with the half of thy guineas and thy horse. The residue, and the letter thou bearest, I leave. 'Tis a good world, and experience should be bought early. This golden lesson I leave in return for the guineas. Believe me, 'tis of more worth. Read over those verses on the windowpane before starting, digest them, and trust me, thy obliged,

“Peter, The Jackman.

“Raise not thy hand so often to thy breast: 'tis a sure index of hidden valuables.”

Be sure I was wroth enough: nor did the calm interest of the two snail owners appease me, when at breakfast I told them a part of the story. But I thought I read sympathy in the low price at which one of them offer'd me his horse. 'Twas a tall black brute, very strong in the loins, and I bought him at once out of my shrunken stock of guineas. At ten o'clock, I set out, not along the Bath road, but bearing to the south, as the young gentlewoman had counselled. I began to hold a high opinion of her advice.

By twelve o'clock I was back at the inn door, clamoring to see the man that sold me the horse, which had gone dead lame after the second mile.

“Dear heart!” cried the landlord; “they are gone, the both, this hour and a half. But they are coming again within the fortnight; and I'm expressly to report if you return'd, as they had a wager about it.”

I turn'd away, pondering. Two days on the road had put me sadly out of conceit with myself. For mile upon mile I trudged, dragging the horse after me by the bridle, till my arms felt as if coming from their sockets. I would have turn'd the brute loose, and thought myself well quit of him, had it not been for the saddle and bridle he carried.

'Twas about five in the evening, and I still laboring along, when, over the low hedge to my right, a man on a sorrel mare leap'd easily as a swallow, and alighted some ten paces or less in front of me; where he dismounted and stood barring my path. The muzzle of his pistol was in my face before I could lay hand to my own.

“Good evening!” said I. — “You have money about you, doubtless,” growled the man curtly, and in a voice that made me start. For by his voice and figure in the dusk I knew him for Captain Settle: and in the sorrel with the high white stocking I recognized the mare, Molly, that poor Anthony Killigrew had given me almost with his last breath.

The bully did not know me, having but seen me for an instant at “The Crown,” and then in very different attire.

“I have but a few poor coins,” I answer'd.

“Then hand 'em over.”

“Be shot if I do!” said I in a passion; and pulling out a handful from my pocket, I dash'd them down in the road.

For a moment the Captain took his pistol from my face, and stooped to clutch at the golden coins as they trickled and ran to right and left. The next, I had struck out with my right fist, and down he went staggering. His pistol dropped out of his hand and exploded between my feet. I rush'd to Molly, caught her bridle, and leap'd on her back. 'Twas a near thing, for the Captain was rushing toward us. But at the call of my voice the mare gave a bound and turn'd: and down