William Shakespeare as he lived Part 2

There was a retiring diffidence, an innate modesty about the youth who had aided the lady, which kept him from intrusion. Nevertheless, he felt hurt at the manner in which the handsome cavalier had s.n.a.t.c.hed her from his arms. His indomitable spirit prompted him almost to thrust back that officious friend, and like Valentine, exclaim--

"Thurio, give place, or else embrace thy death; I dare thee but to look upon my love!"

The next moment, however, remembrance of his own condition, and the station in life of her he had saved, flashed across his brain. He drew a pace or two back, and recollected how far removed he was from her he had so promptly succoured. As for the attendant cavalier, he seemed to see nothing but the still insensible form he hung over. "Oh! thank heaven.

Oh! thank heaven, she breathes," he said wildly, "she is not dead--speak to me, Charlotte--speak but one word to your poor cousin, if but to a.s.sure him of your safety."

"I think she is recovering, fair sir," said the youth, again approaching. "See, she opens her eyes."

"She does--she does!" said the cavalier, as he raised her in his arms.

"I would we had a few drops of water to sprinkle in her face; 'twould do much towards hastening her recovery."

"That shall she soon have," said the youth; and darting off, he hastened towards a rivulet, which, brawling along on the other side of the plantation, ran through the marsh land beyond, and emptied itself into the Avon.

Taking off his high-crowned hat, he dipped it in the stream, and returned as speedily. As he did so he observed that Sir Hugh Clopton, and such of his party as were mounted, had now reached the spot; whilst the fair Charlotte, having regained her senses, was clasped in her fond father's arms.

Handing the water to one of the attendants, he again drew back, and leaning upon his quarter-staff, stood regarding the party unnoticed.

"Now praise be to heaven for this mercy," said Sir Hugh. "In my pride and joy of thee, my Charlotte, I bred yonder steed for thy especial use.

I thought to see thee mounted as no other damsel in Warwickshire, and see the result. Ha, by my halidame, I swear to thee, that had not the brute perished in his own wilfulness I had killed him with this hand."

"Nay, blame not my poor Fairy," said the lady; "he did but follow the bent of his joyous spirit, when he found himself in the fresh pasture.

'Twas thy timely succour, coz," she said, turning to the tall cavalier beside her, "which I suspect saved me when I fell."

"By my troth then, nephew," said the old knight, grasping the youth's hand, "'twas well done of thee, and thou hast redeemed thy first fault in following the runaway horse."

"Alas, uncle," said the cavalier, "I fear me I have redeemed no fault, neither deserve I any praise. I saw my fair cousin cast headlong to the earth, and then dragged beneath the heels of yonder horse. No mortal help, it appeared, could avail her. I felt the blood rush to my brain; I was about to fall from my saddle, when lo, a lad stepped from beside the trunk of yonder oak, I heard a heavy crashing blow, I saw Fairy fall as if pierced by a bullet in the brain, and I found thee, Charlotte, saved.

And that reminds me," continued the cavalier, looking round, "he who did this gallant deed was this moment by my side."

"Ha, say'st thou, Walter," said the burly knight, "where, then, be this lad whom we have not even thanked for his service? Stand back, my masters."

As Sir Hugh spoke the attendants fell back, and discovered the graceful figure of the youth in the grey doublet, as he leant beside the tree.

The old knight immediately stepped up, and grasping the youth by the hand, led him into the circle, whilst the young cavalier was more fully describing to the lady the bold and instantaneous manner in which she had been rescued.

The youth sank on one knee, and taking the lady's hand, pressed it to his lips. "Believe me, lady," he said, "the delight I experience in serving one so fair and exquisite, a thousand times o'erpays the duty."

"Why, gad a mercy," said the old knight, "thou art a high-flown champion, methinks. Nevertheless, lad, we are indebted to thee in more than we can either dilate on, or thou listen to with patience fasting.

Let us return to the house, my masters all.

"Come Sir Knight of the quarter-staff," he continued, "'fore gad, we'll not part with thee till we have learnt how to do thee good service.

"Yet stay," he said, as he was preparing to mount, and whilst steadily regarding the youth, "art not of the town here? Have I not seen thy goodly visage somewhere in Stratford? Troth have I. Why man, thou art the son of my respected neighbour, the wool-comber in Henley Street--John Shakespeare."

"His eldest son, an it so please ye," said the youth, blushing.

"'Fore Heaven, and so thou art!" said Sir Hugh. "And what, good Philip?--is not thy name Philip?"

"William," said the youth.

"And what good wind, then, good William Shakespeare, hath blown thee so opportunely this morning to our neighbourhood?"

"Marry, the same wind, good Sir Hugh," said a tall, dark-looking man, dressed in the habiliments of a forester, and accompanied by a companion quite as ill-favoured as himself, and who at this moment thrust himself into the circle: "the same ill wind, Sir Hugh, that makes him haunt every wood and dell in the county."

This interruption somewhat startled the party. Sir Hugh turned and looked at him with surprise, whilst the object of the remark of the forester in an instant confronted the man. "Thou art an insolent caitiff," he said, "thus to speak of one of whom thou knowest nothing."

"An I know nothing of thee," said the forester contemptuously, "'tis more than my comrade here can testify. By the same token, thou has stolen upon his forest-walk, 'will he, nill he,' and beaten him on his own beat, as it were, and so put him to shame."

"And I am as like to do the same by thee with the like provocation,"

returned young Shakespeare. "Thy comrade laid hands upon me, and dishonoured me by a blow. For the which," he continued, significantly, "_I beat him._"

"And for which," returned the forester, "we have followed thee hither; and, time and opportunity serving, will return the beating with interest. Thou art warned, so look to thyself, and keep from our woods in future."

"Gramercy," said Sir Hugh, now interrupting the dispute, "but what saucy companions are these?"

"We are outlying keepers of Sir Thomas Lucy, of Charlecote, Sir Hugh,"

said the man, doffing his hat, and making a leg.

"Outlying, I think, by'r Lady," said Sir Hugh, "in every sense of the word. Thou hast railed on thyself, Sir Ranger, in accusing this youth of the offence of trespa.s.s, since thou art even now thyself trespa.s.sing here, and putting an affront upon a youth whom it is our pleasure to hold in good esteem. Begone, lest I give my people a hint to cudgel thee for thy presumption."

"Nay, then our master shall hear of it," said the keeper; "an thou encouragest those who lurch upon his grounds, the sword must settle it."

"'Tis with thy master I _will_ settle it, thou arrant knave," said Sir Hugh; "I talk not with such caitiffs."

"And yet dost thou take up with yonder son of a trader in Stratford town," said the fellow, with a sneer. "'Want of company,' saith the proverb. Eh?"

"Hark ye, sirrah!" said young Shakespeare (like lightning seizing the keeper by the green frock, and forcing him up to the dead horse), "trader or n.o.ble, I warn thee to put no further affront upon me before this fair company; for, by the hand that brained yon steed, I can as easily teach thee as awful a lesson. Begone!" he continued. "I am alike ready to meet thee on thine own or other grounds, singly or together, with quarter-staff, or rapier and target."

The man looked cowed, he glanced towards his comrade, and both disappeared.

CHAPTER IV.

THE FAMILY OF THE CLOPTONS.

To Charlotte Clopton the introduction of the stranger youth, the relation her cousin gave of his opportune appearance, and the ready manner in which he had rescued her, seemed like some dream.

Indeed, under circ.u.mstances such as she now for the first time beheld the youthful poet, he was scarcely to be regarded, we opine, by a lady's eye with impunity.

Rendered insensible, as we have seen, by her severe fall, on recovery she found herself almost miraculously saved from a dreadful death.

Whilst he who had rescued her, appeared to have come to her a.s.sistance "like some descended G.o.d."

"Who ever loved, that loved not at first sight?" The heart of Charlotte was from that moment hopelessly, irrecoverably, lost.

The family of the Cloptons was of ancient descent. Sir Hugh was a widower, having no other offspring but the daughter we have already introduced to our readers. Of suitors doubtless the fair Charlotte might have had plenty and to spare; for, when broad lands are coupled with exceeding beauty,

"From the four corners of the earth they come To kiss the shrine."