The Comical Adventures of Twm Shon Catty Part 21

The venerable and aged gentleman in the coach with his daughter, looking out on this deadly struggle with intense anxiety, s.n.a.t.c.hed up a pistol which had been dropped in the carriage, seized a critical moment, and discharged it at the ear of the freebooter, whose head was perforated by the bullet, so that his grasp relaxed, and he fell backward, with his eyes glaring on his intended victim, and, with a ferocious oath in his mouth, he expired.

The aged gentleman now called to the lady, who sprang from the coach, declaring he feared that the villain had succeeded in destroying their deliverer. Well, indeed, might he have thought so, as Twm had sunk senseless on the road, the stagnant blood blackening in his face, and his eyes projecting from their sockets.

On recovering a little, he found a young lady bathing his temples, and applying her scent-bottle, while the venerable old gentleman was busied in rubbing his neck to restore the circulation of the blood, which now happily took place.

On his recovery, our hero learnt that the party whom he had succoured were the venerable Doctor Morgan, Bishop of St. Asaph, translator of the Scriptures into Welsh, and his only daughter; and that the wounded gentleman who sent Twm to their rescue, and who had now rejoined the party, was his lordship's chaplain.

This spirited clergyman had manfully opposed the depredators, when they first attacked the coach, but was sadly wounded by a bullet in the right arm. In the midst of the congratulations, compliments, and explanations that followed, the spirit of the scene became suddenly changed to one that is patronized by the comic muse.

Alarmed by the report of the bishop's servants, who liberated themselves, having been tied to a tree by the thieves, the town of Hounslow evinced its heroism by sending forth its constabulary force, with the princ.i.p.al inn-keeper, who was also a farmer, and his farm-servants.

A motley a.s.semblage, in truth, it proved! Some were on foot, and some on horse or a.s.s-back, and one fellow was seen bestriding a large horned ox, that reluctantly yielded the speed required of him; while each and all were as whimsically armed as mounted. The valiant joskin on the ox, flourished a flail, threatening annihilation to the rogues of the road, but lucklessly struck his own sconce by exercising the weapon. The ostler and waiter, who was also the plough-boy, was mounted on a superannuated blind mare, and grasped a dung-fork with the consequence of a Neptune's trident. Among the others were seen bill-hooks, a scythe, three spades, an awfully long spit, and a ponderous wooden beetle.

But the most amusing figure in the group was the old landlady and farm-wife, who had hastily mounted a donkey, and was riding it in a more masculine style than is usual to the fair s.e.x, and thumping the restive brute with a vast wooden ladle, with which, for she led the van, she was prepared to battle with the highwaymen. Finding them already conquered, her heroic spirit vented itself in discontent, that she had had no hand in the great event.

"Dang un!" quoth the doughty dame, "I would ha baisted the chops o'un noicely!"

"Shame on thee, dame! cover thy garters-whoy dusten roide like a christen woman," cried her lord and master, who rode a high horse, and bore a huge cavalry sword.

At this rebuke, the bishop's daughter, his lordship, and the chaplain, laughed most heartily; while our hero, now pretty well recovered, joined in their glee.

The fallen being consigned to the care of the landlord, and the coach somewhat righted, our hero was seated by the chaplain, and facing his lordship, who, with his amiable daughter, cordially acknowledged his services; which the worthy prelate declared were not to be requited with mere words.

Twm, with truth, averred he was indebted for his life to the prompt.i.tude with which his lordship brought the ruffian down; and therefore the services he received, he said, far over-balanced any that he had rendered. The modest position in which he had thus placed himself, worked well in his favour, and was fully estimated. After having refreshed at Hounslow, and the chaplain's arm dressed, depositions having been made, before the judicial authorities, of the attack and rescue, the party filled his lordship's carnage again, and all were driven off towards London, well guarded by a rustic patrol sent from Hounslow.

On the way, Twm explained that he was an agent of Sir George Devereaux's to a Mr. Martyn's in Holborn, and the bearer of a sum of money to him.

The bishop seemed surprised, and declared that Mr. Martyn was his very good friend, and chosen by him to be an umpire on the following day, in a matter of great importance.

"To-morrow, then," added the bishop, "I shall see you at my friend's house, and learn from you in what manner I can serve your interests."

Our hero bowed.

"Your lordship will have your long deferred explanation with the fiery old baronet, Sir John Wynn, then, to-morrow?" asked the chaplain.

"Yes," replied the old bishop, "and heaven send me scatheless from a contest with that self-willed man! In our interview I can only repeat what I have objected in my letters; and right well I know, he can only reiterate his former ill-grounded a.s.sertions."

Our hero was thunderstruck with these observations and became silent and thoughtful.

Many were the villages and suburbs through which they pa.s.sed, before the lady, breaking a silence which had endured some time, exclaimed, "The stones of London, at last, my Lord."

The worthy prelate directed his coachman to drive to Mr. Martyn's; and, in a brief s.p.a.ce, the carriage stopped at a large, lofty, and many gabled house, opposite to St. Andrew's Church, in Holborn, where Twm was put down, and kindly received by Mr. Martyn, who helped him from the bishop's coach. His lordship observed that he was waited for by his brother, the Bishop of London, at Lambeth Palace; briefly referred to the business of the morrow, kindly shook hands with our hero, as did the young lady and the chaplain, each repeating their acknowledgments, and when the carriage drove off, Twm Shon Catty was ceremoniously ushered into the fine town-house of Mr. Martyn.

CHAPTER x.x.x.

TWM, at last, face to face with his paternal parent. A little scene between a Baronet and a Bishop. Twm's particular star brightens.

When it became known that Twm was the bearer of money from the baronet to Mr. Martyn, that he had rescued the bishop of St. Asaph and party, and that he was the hero of many other encounters with daring highwaymen, he became quite a lion in the house, was regarded as a fine specimen of a Welshman, and, in homely language, was "made much of."

Previous to the sound slumber that soon overcame his softly-pillow'd head, he pondered much on what he had heard of his reputed father, and felt his mind strongly impressed with the idea that the coming morrow teemed with events that would cast their shade or sunshine on his future days.

In a dream that followed, he found himself in the presence of a pa.s.sionate little gentleman who threatened him with terrible vengeance, unless he returned to the house of Morris Greeg, and gave his hand in marriage to the amiable daughter Shaan; and he thought he discovered in a murky recess, a parrot-nosed sprite, resembling Moses, who was grinning at his dilemma; when the lady of his former dream appeared suddenly, and smiled like an angel on the churlish old man, who forthwith smiled again, when Ianto Gwyn stood forth with his harp; on which he joined her in a Welsh jig. Then came a long and dreamless sleep, which at length was broken by the numerous clocks of London, clamorously informing its citizens of the seventh hour of a new day.

The letters borne by our hero to Mr. Martyn from Sir George Devereaux spoke most highly of his abilities and good qualities; and the trust reposed in him by the baronet was fully evinced by his being trusted with such an important pecuniary mission as that which had brought him to London.

In addition, his introduction by the Bishop of St. Asaph, with the details of his acknowledged services to that venerable prelate, insured our hero the most marked consideration among his present friends, who vied with each other in their attentions to him. The whole family expressed their hope that his stay would be long in town; and Mrs. Martyn insisted that he would make their house his home the while.

After breakfast, Twm requested a private conversation with his host; when he explained, with straightforward candour, that, although unlooked-for circ.u.mstances had placed him in his present favourable position, he was, in reality, the most friendless of human beings; inasmuch that he was a natural son, unacknowledged by his father.

Mr. Martyn kindly commiserated him; and our hero continued,-"I learnt yesterday evening that the Bishop of St. Asaph is to-day engaged to meet the man, who, of all others, I wish, yet dread to see-my father, Sir John Wynn of Gwydir."

"Sir John Wynn, your father!" exclaimed Mr. Martyn, in great astonishment. "The same," replied Twm, "yet he knows me not, nor have I a single doc.u.ment or a witness to prove it. Yet did I hope, ardently hope, that some chance would turn up in my favour, to avail myself of the meeting of this day, between Sir John and the good bishop." Mr. Martyn said, with much concern, that, although their mutual friend, he saw great difficulties to oppose the introduction of such a matter.

"This conference," continued he, "cannot end amicably; one party is bent on urging a claim, while the other is resolved to reject it, and they will part bad friends at last; while I, their umpire, cannot prevent it.

Sir John, ruffled by disappointment, will be in no cue to listen to any claims on his kindness, especially one of a nature so serious, more especially as the very existence of such a complaint, criminates his past conduct."

It struck our hero, that it would be well to make the benevolent bishop acquainted with his tale, and take his advice; with which suggestion, Mr.

Martyn entirely agreed.

"The Bishop," observed the latter, "is an early man, generally, and will, no doubt, be the first to call this morning." While they were yet speaking, a servant announced Sir John Wynn's carriage; and before Mr.

Martyn could reply, or rise from his chair, Sir John Wynn entered.

Martyn, rising with a bland countenance, met the Baronet's advances with courtesy, if not cordiality. Our hero having retired to the window, was unseen by Sir John, although Twm seized the opportunity of exercising all his powers of observation.

"Well, I am the first in the field, I see," observed the Baronet; "and now, my dear Mr. Martyn, let me again impress you with the sense of the wrongs I endured from this ungrateful Priest, this Bishop of my own making." "My dear Sir John," replied Martyn, "he may arrive this instant, and then see how unseemly it will be to find you touching on the case before his arrival, and me your unbia.s.sed umpire."

"Oh, Martyn, Martyn!" replied the Baronet, disregarding the delicacy of the appeal, "there is no grief like the grief of unkindness; he rewarded me with evil for good, to the great discomfort of my soul. I may well say so, and justly complain to you of my Lord of St. Asaph, who, besides what his ancestors received of mine, is in many matters beholden to me.

My mind is eased by opening to you his hard dealings with me, and my benefits towards him;-but who is that?"

Our hero, feeling the awkwardness of his situation, had coughed gently, to inform the gentleman of his presence, and while making towards the door, was not ungracefully apologizing for his presence. He stopped as Mr. Martyn took his hand, and replied, "A young countryman of yours, Sir John; or, I should say, a South Walian, whom I beg leave to introduce to you as my friend."

"Ha, ha!" cried Sir John, with his const.i.tutional heartiness, "a young Welshman, a countryman of my own; your hand, Sir!" and the old gentleman shook it with a friendly feeling towards his country, if not the individual. "I could have sworn," continued Sir John, "he was a native of our glorious mountain land, by his frank open countenance, and healthy look, unlike your suet-pudding-faced c.o.c.kneys here."

A servant answering the bell, Mr. Martyn desired that his son should show his guest to the picture gallery, on which our hero withdrew, with a tear in his eye which he found it impossible to suppress, when he felt the pressure of his father's hand.

The parlour door being closed, Martyn recounted briefly our hero's adventures, in bringing him a considerable sum of money, from Carmarthenshire. Sir John gave one of his most loud and hearty laughs, when he heard how he outwitted the notorious Tom Dorbell. But when he related his part in the rescue of the Bishop, at the imminent peril of his life, the Baronet grew serious; but giving way to his spleen against the prelate, he replied, "I wish he had saved some one more worthy of his bravery!-but, Martyn, I must be better acquainted with this gallant. A brave young Welshman like this, should be known, noted, and patronized!

but perhaps he has abundance of friends without my thought of him."

"Not so, Sir John, he is a stranger in London, and almost friendless anywhere,-he is a natural son; but you may hear his history hereafter,"

replied Mr. Martyn, almost pointedly, as he fixed his eyes on the Baronet.

This was not un.o.bserved by him, as he smiled, and said, "You mean something, Martyn; but let it pa.s.s for the present; so let us proceed with this matter of mine."

"In honour and truth, I can hear no more till his lordship arrives," was the reply.

"Well, why doesn't he come, then," said Sir John, with the unamiable frown that at times distinguished him; adding, rather superciliously, "is it fitting Mr. Martyn, that the head of the house of Gwydir should be waiting the leisure of this parson lord,-I shall drive out a little, and let him wait for me in his turn."