The Black Tor: A Tale of the Reign of James the First by George Manville Fenn (best romance books of all time .txt) 📖

cottage up there on the moor; and she says that next time the men come to rob her, they’ll find she has two pots of boiling water ready for them.”

Ralph laughed, and went off, crossed the river at the shallows, and climbed the ascent to where the old woman lived in her rough stone cot, in its patch of garden; and as soon as he had given his present, with an addition from his own purse, and the fierce old lady had secured it in her pocket, she turned upon him angrily, upbraiding him and his for allowing such outrages to be committed.

“But there,” she cried, when quite out of breath, “it’s of no use to speak: there are no men now, and no boys. When I was young, they’d have routed out those wretches and hung them before they knew where they were. But only let them come here again, and they shall know what boiling water is.”

“They’ll be well punished before long,” said Ralph, as soon as he could get in a word.

“I don’t believe it,” cried the old woman. “Don’t tell me! I want to know what my boy, Nick, is about for not making his master do something. It’s shameful. But I see how it is: I shall have to go and do it myself.”

Ralph was not sorry to get away from the ungracious old dame, who stood at her door, shouting messages to his father about his duty and her intentions, till the lad was out of sight, when he could not help seeing the comic side of the matter, and wondered, laughingly, what his father would say to her if she kept her word, and came up to the castle to ask him why he and her son, Nick, did not go and punish those wicked men for coming and stealing her bag of meal.

“I should like to be there,” said Ralph, half-aloud, as he tramped on: and then his thoughts took a serious turn again, and he began to ponder upon the possibilities of his father and their men attacking Captain Purlrose, and the chances of success.

“It ought to be done,” thought Ralph, as he began to climb the path leading to the shelf upon which Master Rayburn’s cottage was built, half-a-mile farther on, “so as to take them by surprise when part of the men are away. It can hardly be called cowardly with men like them. Then we could hide in the cavern, and wait till the rest came back, and take them prisoners too. What’s that?”

He listened, and made out the sound of a horse galloping, wondering the while who it could be. Then his interest increased, for the track was narrow and stony, and ran along like a shelf beside the cliff, with a steep descent to the river—altogether about as dangerous a place for a canter as any one could choose. But he recalled immediately how sure-footed the ponies of the district were, and thought no more of it for a few moments. Then his face flushed as he remembered how Mark Eden had galloped after him. Would it be he, and if so, now they were going to meet again, would it be upon inimical terms, and with drawn swords?

His heart began to beat faster, and the next minute it was beating faster still, for he caught sight, at a curve of the track, of the pony and its burden, not Mark Eden, but a lady; and then his heart seemed to stand still in his horror at seeing that she had lost control of the spirited little animal, which was tearing along as hard as he could go.

The next minute it was nearly abreast of Ralph, who, without thinking of the consequences of such an act, leaped at the rein, caught it, and was dragged along some twenty yards, before, snorting and trembling, the little animal, which he knew as Mark Eden’s, stopped short, and began to rear.

“Quick!” shouted the lad. “I can’t hold him: try and slip off.”

His words were heard by the frightened rider, but there was little need to tell her to slip off, for the pony reared again, nearly upright, the rider glided from the saddle over the animal’s haunches, and fell amongst the bushes by the track, while Ralph was dragged onward again.

It all occurred in a few moments, the pony stopped, reared again, made another bound, dropped off the track, and, as Ralph loosed his hold, rolled over and over down the steep slope right into the river with a tremendous splash, which cooled it on the instant; and it regained its feet, scrambled actively ashore, gave itself a shake, and then began to graze, as if nothing was the matter.

“Mark Eden’s sister,” thought Ralph, as he hurriedly climbed back to the track, where, looking wild and scared, Mary Eden had just regained her feet, and was standing trembling.

“Are you hurt?” he cried aloud.

“Yes, dreadfully. No: I don’t think so. Only scratched,” she replied, half-crying. “I couldn’t stop him. He hasn’t been out lately. He ran away with me. What shall I do?” she sobbed now. “Mark will be so angry. Is his pony much hurt?”

“Oh, never mind the pony,” cried Ralph, taking her hand. “Here, let me help you to Master Rayburn’s.”

“But I do mind about the pony,” cried the girl angrily. “It doesn’t matter about me. Do you think he has broken his knees, or his legs?”

“It does not seem like it,” said Ralph, smiling. “Look, he is browsing on the thick grass down there.”

“Is—is my face much scratched?”

“Hardly at all,” said Ralph.

“Then thank you so for stopping him; I was so frightened. Ah, look! there’s Master Rayburn.”

She clapped her hands with delight, as she caught sight of the old man, hatless, and with his white hair flying, running down the path. Then turning, back to Ralph, she said, naïvely:

“Please, who are you? Oh, I know now. I haven’t seen you for two years, and—”

She shrank away from him in a peculiarly cold and distant manner, and at that moment Master Rayburn panted up.

“Much hurt, my dear?” he cried excitedly, as he caught the girl in his arms.

“No, no, I think not,” she said, beginning to sob anew.

“Thank God! thank God!” cried the old man fervently.—“Hah! My heart was in my mouth. Why can’t people be content to walk? Come back home with me, my child. Here, Ralph Darley, how was it? Did you stop the brute?”

“I tried to,” said the lad quietly, “but I couldn’t hold him long.”

“Long enough to save her, my lad,” cried the old man, looking from one to the other in a peculiar way.—“How strange—how strange!” he muttered.

Then aloud, in an abrupt way:

“There, never mind the pony. You be off home, sir. I’ll take care of this lady.”

Ralph coloured a little, and glanced at the girl, and as she met his eyes, she drew herself up stiffly.

“Yes, sir,” she said, “Master Rayburn will take care of me. Thank you for stopping my pony.”

She bowed now, in the stately way of the period, clung closely to the old man, turning her back upon her rescuer, who unnecessarily bowed, and walked on up the steep path, wondering that the pony had not come down headlong before.

Then he felt disposed to look back, but his angry indignation forbade that, and he hurried on as fast as he could on his way home, passing Master Rayburn’s cottage, and then, a hundred yards farther on, coming suddenly upon a riding-whip, which had evidently been dropped. The lad leaped at it to pick it up, but checked himself, and gave it a kick which sent it off the path down the slope toward the river.

“I’m not going to pick up an Eden’s whip,” he said proudly. “Just like her brother,” he muttered, as he went on faster and faster, to avoid the temptation of running back to pick it up. “They are a proud, evil race,” as father said. “What did I want to interfere for, and stop the pony? It was looked upon as an insult, I suppose. I don’t like the Edens, and I never shall.”

Ralph’s adventures for that day were not ended. A quarter of a mile farther on he heard footsteps in front. Some one was running, and at a turn of the track a lad came into sight, whom he recognised as Dummy Rugg, one of the mine lads. The pair came closer quickly, and Ralph saw that he was recognised, and that the boy was scowling at him, passing him with rather an evil look, but stopping the next minute, and running back after him. As soon as he heard the steps returning, Ralph faced round, his left hand seeking the sheath of his sword, to bring it round in case he should want to draw. But the next minute he saw that the lad had no evil intent.

“Look here,” cried Dummy, “did you see a young lady on a pony?”

“Yes.”

“Was it going fast?”

“As fast as it could go,” said Ralph haughtily.

“Not running away wi’ her?”

“Yes,” said Ralph, rather enjoying the boy’s anxiety, in his ruffled state.

“I knowed it would: I knowed it would!” cried the boy wildly; “and she would have it out. Here! gone right on?”

“Yes.”

“Ah! And you never tried to stop it. Oh, wait till I see you again!”

Ralph did not feel in the humour to stop and explain to one who had threatened him so offensively, and he would have felt less so still if he had known that Dummy Rugg had followed him that night through the dark woods, till he met his father.

“Let him find out for himself,” he muttered. “I have nothing to do with the Edens, and we can none of us ever be friends.”