The Smuggler Part 29

CHAPTER XI.

All things have their several stages; and, without a knowledge of the preceding one it is impossible to judge accurately of any event which is the immediate subject of our contemplation. The life of every one, the history of the whole world that we inhabit, is but a regular drama with its scenes and acts, each depending for its interest upon that which preceded. I therefore judge it necessary, before going on to detail the events which took place in Mr. Croyland's house during his absence to visit the dwelling of his brother, and give some account of that which produced them. On the same eventful morning, then, of which we have spoken so much already, the inhabitants of Harbourne House slept quietly during the little engagement between the smugglers and the dragoons, unaware that things of great importance to their little circle were pa.s.sing at no great distance. I have mentioned the inhabitants of Harbourne House; but perhaps it would have been more proper to have said the master, his family, and his guest; for a number of the servants were up; the windows were opened; and the wind, setting from Woodchurch, brought the sound of firearms thence. The movement of the troops from the side of High Halden was also remarked by one of the housemaids and a footman, as the young lady was leaning out of one of the windows with the young gentleman by her side. In a minute or two after they perceived, galloping across the country, two or three parties of men on horseback, as if in flight and pursuit.

Most of these took to the right or left, and were soon lost to the sight; but at length one solitary horseman came on at a furious speed towards Harbourne House, with a small party of dragoons following him direct at a couple of hundred yards' distance, while two or three of the soldiery were seen scattered away to the right, and a somewhat larger body appeared moving down at a quick pace to the left, as if to cut the fugitive off at Gallows Green.

The horse of the single rider seemed tired and dirty; and he was himself without a hat; but nevertheless, they pushed on with such rapidity, that a few seconds, from the time when they were first seen, brought steed and horseman into the little parish road which I have mentioned as running in front of the house, and pa.s.sing round the grounds into the wood. As the fugitive drew near, the maid exclaimed, with a sort of a half scream, "Why, Lord ha' mercy, Matthew, it's young Mr. Radford!"

"To be sure it is," answered the footman; "didn't you see that before, Betsy? There's a number of the dragoons after him, too. He's been up to some of his tricks, I'll warrant."

"Well, I hope he wont come in here, at all events," rejoined the maid, "for I shouldn't like it, if we were to have any fighting in the house."

"I shall go and shut the hall door," said the footman, drily--Richard Radford not having ingratiated himself as much with the servants as he had done with their master. But this precaution was rendered unnecessary; for the young man showed no inclination to enter the house, but pa.s.sing along the road with the rapidity of an arrow, was soon lost in the wood, without even looking up towards the house of Sir Robert Croyland. Several of the dragoons followed him quickly; but two of them planted themselves at the corner of the road, and remained there immovable.

The maid then observed, that she thought it high time the gentlefolks should be called; and she proceeded to execute her laudable purpose, taking care that tidings of what she had seen concerning Mr. Radford should be communicated to Sir Robert Croyland, to Zara, and to the servant of Sir Edward Digby, who again carried the intelligence to his master. The whole house was soon afoot; and Sir Robert was just out of his room in his dressing-gown, when three of the soldiers entered the mansion, expressing their determination to search it, and declaring their conviction that the smuggler whom they had been pursuing had taken refuge there.

In vain Sir Robert Croyland remonstrated, and inquired if they had a warrant; in vain the servants a.s.sured the dragoons that no person had entered during the morning. The Serjeant who was at their head, persisted in a.s.serting that the fugitive must have come in there, just when he was hid from his pursuers by the trees, a.s.signing as a reason for this belief, that they had found his horse turned loose not a hundred yards from the house. They accordingly proceeded to execute their intention, meeting with no farther impediment till they reached the room of Sir Edward Digby, who, though he did not choose to interfere, not being on duty himself, warned the serjeant that he must be careful of what he was doing, as it appeared that he had neither magistrate, warrant, nor Custom-House officer with him.

The serjeant, however, who was a bold and resolute fellow, and moreover a little heated and excited by the pursuit, took the responsibility upon himself, saying that he was fully authorized by Mr. Birchett to follow, search for, and apprehend one Richard Radford, and that he had the colonel's orders, too. Certainly, not a nook or corner of Harbourne House did he leave unexamined before he retired, grumbling and wondering at his want of success.

Previous to his going, Sir Edward Digby charged him with a message to the colonel, which proved as great an enigma to the soldier as the escape of Richard Radford. "Tell him," said the young baronet, "that I am ready to come down if he wants me; but that if he does not, I think I am quite as well where I am."

The breakfast pa.s.sed in that sort of hurried and desultory conversation which such a dish of gossip as now poured in from all quarters usually produces, when served up at the morning meal. Sir Robert Croyland, indeed, looked ill at ease, laughed and jested in an unnatural and strained tone upon smugglers and smuggling, and questioned every servant that came in for further tidings. The reports that he thus received were as full of falsehood and exaggeration as all such reports generally are. The property captured was said to be immense. Two or three hundred smugglers were mentioned as having been taken, and a whole legion of them killed. Some had made confession, and clearly proved that the whole property was Mr. Radford's; and some had fought to the last, and killed an incredible number of the soldiers. To believe the butler, who received his information from the hind, who had his from the shepherd, the man called the Major, before he died, had absolutely breakfasted on dragoons, as if they had been prawns; but all agreed that never had such a large body of contraband traders been a.s.sembled before, or suffered such a disastrous defeat, in any of their expeditions.

Sir Edward Digby gathered from the whole account, that his friend had been fully successful, that the smugglers had fought fiercely, that blood had been shed, and that Richard Radford, after having taken an active part in the affray, was now a fugitive, and, as the young baronet fancied, never to appear upon the stage again. But still Sir Robert Croyland did not seem by any means so well pleased as might have been wished; and a dark and thoughtful cloud would frequently come over his heavy brow, while a slight twitching of his lip seemed to indicate that anxiety had as great a share in his feelings as mortification.

Mrs. Barbara Croyland amused herself, as usual, by doing her best to tease every one around her, and by saying the most malapropos things in the world. She spoke with great commiseration of "the poor smugglers:" every particle of her pity was bestowed upon them. She talked of the soldiers as if they had been the most fierce and sanguinary monsters in Europe, who had attacked, unprovoked, a party of poor men that were doing them no harm; till Zara's glowing cheek recalled to her mind, that these very blood-thirsty dragoons were Sir Edward Digby's companions and friends; and then she made the compliment more pointed by apologizing to the young baronet, and a.s.suring him that she did not think for a moment he would commit such acts. Her artillery was next turned against her brother; and, in a pleasant tone of raillery, she joked him upon the subject of young Mr.

Radford, and of the search the soldiers had made, looking with a meaning smile at Zara, and saying, "She dared say, Sir Robert could tell where he was, if he liked."

The baronet declared, sharply and truly, that he knew nothing about the young man; but Mrs. Barbara shook her head and nodded, and looked knowing, adding various agreeable insinuations of the same kind as before--all in the best humour possible--till Sir Robert Croyland was put quite out of temper, and would have retorted violently, had he not known that to do so always rendered the matter ten times worse. Even poor Zara did not altogether escape; but, as we are hurrying on to important events, we must pa.s.s over her share of infliction.

The conclusion of Mrs. Barbara's field-day was perhaps the most signal achievement of all. Breakfast had come to an end, though the meal had been somewhat protracted; and the party were just lingering out a few minutes before they rose, still talking on the subject of the skirmish of that morning, when the good lady thought fit to remark--"Well, we may guess for ever; but we shall soon know more about it, for I dare say we shall have Mr. Radford over here before an hour is gone, and he must know if the goods were his."

This seemed to startle--nay, to alarm Sir Robert Croyland. He looked round with a sharp, quick turn of his head, and then rose at once, saying, "Well, whether he comes or not, I must go out and see about a good many things. Would you like to take a ride, Sir Edward Digby, or what will you do?"

"Why, I think I must stay here for the present," replied the young baronet; "I may have a summons unexpectedly, and ought not to be absent."

"Well, you will excuse me, I know," answered his entertainer. "I must leave my sister and Zara to amuse you for an hour or two, till I return."

Thus saying, and evidently in a great bustle, Sir Robert Croyland quitted the room and ordered his horse. But just as the three whom he had left in the breakfast-room were sauntering quietly towards the library--Sir Edward Digby calculating by the way how he might best get rid of Mrs. Barbara, in order to enjoy the fair Zara's company undisturbed--they came upon the baronet at the moment when he was encountered by one of his servants bringing him some unpleasant intelligence. "Please, Sir Robert," said the man, with a knowing wink of the eye, "all the horses are out."

"Out!" cried the baronet, with a look of fury and consternation. "What do you mean by out, fellow?"

"Why, they were taken out of the stable last night, sir," replied the man. "I dare say you know where they went; and they have not come back again yet."

"Pray, have mine been taken also?" demanded Sir Edward Digby, very well understanding what sort of an expedition Sir Robert Croyland's horses had gone upon.

"Oh dear, no, sir!" answered the man; "your servant keeps the key of that stable himself, sir."

The young baronet instantly offered his host the use of one of his steeds, which was gratefully accepted by Sir Robert Croyland, who, however, thought fit to enter into an exculpation of himself, somewhat tedious withal, a.s.suring his guest that the horses had been taken without his approbation or consent, and that he had no knowledge whatsoever of the transaction in which they were engaged.

Sir Edward Digby professed himself quite convinced that such was the case, and in order to relieve his host from the embarra.s.sment which he seemed to feel, explained that he was already aware that the Kentish smugglers were in the habit of borrowing horses without the owner's consent.

In our complicated state of society, however, everything hinges upon trifles. We have made the watch so fine, that a grain of dust stops the whole movement; and the best arranged plans are thrown out by the negligence, the absence, or the folly of a servant, a friend, or a messenger. Sir Edward Digby's groom could not be found for more than a quarter of an hour: when he was, at length, brought to light, the horse had to be saddled. An hour had now nearly elapsed since the master of the house had given orders for his own horse to be brought round immediately: he was evidently uneasy at the delay, peevish, restless, uncomfortable; and in the end, he said he would mount at the back door, as it was the nearest and the most convenient. He even waited in the vestibule; but suddenly he turned, walked through the double doors leading to the stable-yard, and said he heard the horse coming up.

Mrs. Barbara Croyland had, in the meantime, amused herself and her niece in the library, with the door open; and sometimes she worked a paroquet, in green, red, and white silk embroidery--a favourite occupation for ladies in her juvenile days--and sometimes she gazed out of the window, or listened to the conversation of her brother and his guest in the vestibule. At the very moment, however, when Sir Robert was making his exit by the doors between the princ.i.p.al part of the house and the offices, Mrs. Barbara called loudly after him, "Brother Robert!--Brother Robert!--Here is Mr. Radford coming."

The baronet turned a deaf ear, and shut the door. He would have locked it, too, if the evasion would not have then been too palpable. But Mrs. Barbara was resolved that he should know that Mr. Radford was coming; and up she started, casting down half-a-dozen cards of silk.

Zara tried to stop her; for she knew her father, and all the signs and indications of his humours; but her efforts were in vain. Mrs. Barbara dashed past her, rushed through both doors, leaving them open behind her, and caught her brother's arms just as the horse, which he had thought fit to hear approach a little before it really did so, was led up slowly from the stables to the back door of the mansion.

"Robert, here is Mr. Radford!" said Mrs. Barbara, aloud. "I knew you would like to see him."

The baronet turned his head, and saw his worthy friend, through the open doors, just entering the vestibule. To the horror and surprise of his sister, he uttered a low but bitter curse, adding, in tones quite distinct enough to reach her ear, "Woman, you have ruined me!"

"Good gracious!" cried Mrs. Barbara; "why, I thought----"

"Hush! silence!" said Sir Robert Croyland, in a menacing tone; "not another word, on your life;" and turning, he met Mr. Radford with the utmost suavity, but with a certain degree of restraint which he had not time to banish entirely from his manner.

"Ah, Mr. Radford!" he exclaimed, shaking him, too, heartily by the hand, "I was just going out to inquire about some things of importance;" and he gazed at him with a look which he intended to be very significant of the inquiries he had proposed to inst.i.tute. But his glance was hesitating and ill-a.s.sured; and Mr. Radford replied, with the coolest and most self-possessed air possible, and with a firm, fixed gaze upon the baronet's countenance.

"Indeed, Sir Robert!" he said, "perhaps I can satisfy you upon some points; but, at all events, I must speak with you for a few minutes before you go. Good morning, Sir Edward Digby: have you had any sport in the field?--I will not detain you a quarter of an hour, my good friend. We had better go into your little room."

He led the way thither as he spoke; and Sir Robert Croyland followed with a slow and faltering step. He knew Richard Radford; he knew what that calm and self-possessed manner meant. He was aware of the significance of courteous expressions and amicable terms from the man who called him his good friend; and if there was a being upon earth, on whose head Sir Robert Croyland would have wished to stamp as on a viper's, it was the placid benign personage who preceded him.

They entered the room in which the baronet usually sat in a morning to transact his business with his steward, and to arrange his affairs; and Sir Robert carefully shut the door behind him, trying, during the one moment that his back was turned upon his unwelcome guest, to compose his agitated features into the expression of haughty and self-sufficient tranquillity which they usually wore.

"Sit down, Radford," he said--"pray sit down, if it be but for ten minutes;" and he pointed to the arm-chair on the other side of the table.

Mr. Radford sat down, and leaned his head upon his hand, looking in the baronet's face with a scrutinizing gaze. If Sir Robert Croyland understood him well, he also understood Sir Robert Croyland, heart and mind--every corporeal fibre--every mental peculiarity. He saw clearly that his companion was terrified; he divined that he had wished to avoid him; and the satisfaction that he felt at having caught him just as he was going out, at having frustrated his hope of escape, had a pleasant malice in it, which compensated for a part of all that he had suffered during that morning, as report after report reached him of the utter annihilation of his hopes of immense gain, the loss of a ruinous sum of money, and the danger and narrow escape of his son. He had not slept a wink during the whole of the preceding night; and he had pa.s.sed the hours in a state of nervous anxiety which would have totally unmanned many a strong-minded man when his first fears were realized. But Mr. Radford's mind was of a peculiar construction: apprehension he might feel, but never, by any chance, discouragement.

All his pain was in antic.i.p.ation, not in endurance. The moment a blow was struck, it was over: his thoughts turned to new resources; and, in reconstructing schemes which had been overthrown, in framing new ones, or pursuing old ones which had slumbered, he instantly found comfort for the past. Thus he seemed as fresh, as resolute, as unabashed by fortune's late frowns, as ever; but there was a rankling bitterness, an eager, wolf-like energy in his heart, which sprung both from angry disappointment and from the desperate aspect of his present fortune; and such feelings naturally communicated some portion of their acerbity to the expression of his countenance, which no effort could totally banish.

He gazed upon Sir Robert Croyland, then with a keen and inquiring look, not altogether untinged with that sort of pity which amounts to scorn; and, after a momentary pause, he said, "Well, Croyland, you have heard all, I suppose!"

"No, not all--not all, Radford," answered the baronet, hesitating; "I was going out to inquire."

"I can save you the trouble, then," replied Mr. Radford, drily. "I am ruined. That is to say, in the two last ventures I have lost considerably more than a hundred thousand pounds."

Sir Robert Croyland waved his head sadly, saying, "Terrible, terrible!

but what can be done?"

"Oh, several things," answered Mr. Radford, "and that is what I have come to speak to you about, because the first must rest with you, my excellent good friend."

"But where is your son, poor fellow?" asked the baronet, eager to avoid, as long as possible, the point to which their conversation was tending. "They tell me he was well nigh taken; and, after there has been blood shed, that would have been destruction. Do you know they came and searched this house for him?"

"No, I had not heard of that, Croyland," replied Mr. Radford; "but he is near enough, well enough, and safe enough to marry your fair daughter."

"Ay, yes," answered Sir Robert; "that must be thought of, and----."

"Oh dear, no!" cried the other, interrupting him; "it has been thought of enough already, Croyland--too much, perhaps; now, it must be done."