CHAPTER IX
"I asked you to come out with me because there is something I must say before you return to Sandtoft." So I feebly began, as we paced the garden, now somewhat cleared of the mire and refuse brought by the flood, a few flowers lifting their heads to the July sun. "I told you the other night I loved you. I might never have dared to say it, but for the fear that I should not have another chance. Mistress Goel—Anna—do you, can you love me?"
She lifted her noble face a little, gave me a look which I could not understand, and then the eyelids drooped, as she answered with trembling lips—
"It would be only too easy to love you, Frank, but I am bound—betrothed already. Have patience with me, while I tell you my miserable story." She sat down, and I beside her, heavy-hearted.
"Years ago, my father and his dearest friend, Cornelius Vliet, agreed upon a marriage between me and his friend's only son. I shrank from the thought of it, and begged my father to allow me to refuse; but he laughed at what he took to be girlish perversity. He could not believe I had a repugnance against a young man, who was reckoned handsome, well-bred, brave, the heir to a large fortune. And, indeed, I could say nothing against Sebastian, but only that I had the strongest dislike to be married to him, or to any man. My father so far yielded as to defer the matter awhile. Then he was seized and thrown into prison, and we knew his doom would be death, or lifelong imprisonment. Sebastian came to me, and offered to secure my father's escape—on one condition. I gave him my promise, and he fulfilled his own by lavish bribery, and, I must acknowledge, at the risk of his own liberty, perhaps his life. He accompanied us to Paris. There I saw and heard much more of his manner of living than I had known at home, and it was fearful and loathsome to me. My father assured me young men were no worse for—what was so offensive to me. I cannot tell you how dreadful I felt it to be to fail in duty and love toward my father, and to be so ungrateful to Sebastian for my father's life and freedom, but I could not keep my plighted word. I vowed that I would not be married until Sebastian changed his course. He did not upbraid or taunt me, or argue with me, but disappeared. For some months we have heard nothing of him. I supposed he had been disgusted with what he must think my ingratitude and fickleness; but yesterday my father received a letter from him, saying he has given up drinking and dicing and all evil ways, and is coming to claim his bride. He has decided to join Vermuijden, and to share our exile, and will quickly follow his letter. My father is delighted. Forgive me, Frank, that I have not avoided you. I am guilty, I know. Forgive me."
I had been on the point to interrupt the story a dozen times; but seeing how hard Anna found the telling of it, I would not make it harder. Now I burst out. "Forgive her! Forgive the sun for shining, the flowers for blooming!" I told her how sorely my heart ached for her, but she must bear up bravely still. I would not hear of duty to her father in regard to this marriage. I declared that a promise so extorted could not bind her. To try to keep it would be to sin against herself, against the man, against her father, who must be made wretched by it in the end, against me, against love, against God. I told her I was sure she loved me a little, and I would never give her up. She was mine, and should be mine as long as she or I lived. Where the words came from I did not know, for I am commonly slow of speech, but they came hot and swift, and Anna looked up at me, as I stood over her (my feelings had raised me to my feet) smiling through swimming eyes, and said tremulously—
"You masterful Frank! I could almost believe you; but oh! it cannot be."
She rose to her feet in a sudden agitation. "Here is Sebastian!" she exclaimed, and I turned and saw him, accompanied by Doctor Goel, approaching us. After greeting had passed between Anna and him, the doctor said something by way of introduction, and Vliet and I bowed, he looking as black as a thundercloud, and I, doubtless, equally so. I think he knew me his rival at first glance, and hated me accordingly. How heartily I detested him there are no words to express.
He was a fairly well-made man two or three inches below my height, with cold, bluish-grey eyes, rather closely set, a big mouth, thick-lipped, a low forehead, and cheeks somewhat bloated. That he had turned to sober and cleanly living I did not believe, or that he ever would, and my unbelief was warming to the heart. Having no part in the Dutch conversation, I left the three, and returned to the house, where I heard that Vermuijden was again at Sandtoft, and had sent Sebastian Vliet in command of six of his men to escort Doctor Goel and his daughter thither, with request that they would come with speed.
Within the hour the party was ready to set off, two of the Dutchmen carrying the baggage (except certain small boxes, which the doctor would not entrust to other hands), and the other three men with muskets, cutlasses, and pistols, going in front. Then came the doctor and Vliet, Anna and I last. As the landing-place, where they had left their boat in charge of one of their number, was not more than half a mile away, I hastened to take up the thread of our previous talk, but was baulked of my intent. At a spot where three roads met we encountered a crowd "riding the stang." At the head of the procession strode a fellow blowing a horn; then a dozen others, beating pans and kettles with pokers and iron spoons; a bagpiper made a noise like pigs in a storm; a ragged rascal, sitting a donkey, carried a pole on which dangled a woman's smock. After this standard bearer followed an old horse, bestridden by a grinning woman, who held an enormous ladle, with which she merrily belaboured her husband, who rode behind her, his face turned to the horse's tail, pretending to work at a distaff. Two lads marched behind the couple on horseback, bearing a pole, on which rode a third, thumping a pan, and repeating—
"With a ran, tan, tan,
On my old tin can,
Mrs. Mooley and her good man,
She banged him, she banged him,
For spending a penny when he stood in need.
She up with a three-footed stool;
She struck him so hard, and cut him so deep,
Till the blood ran down like a new-stuck sheep."
A shouting, jeering rabble accompanied the cavalcade, making uproar with marrow-bones and cleavers, tongs, gridirons, and kettles, and 'some half-score of barking and yelping curs swelled the din. A prominent figure in the rout was Ducker's wife, who had gone crazy through the loss of her child. She skipped and screamed and laughed, now here, now there, almost as much the object of amusement to the mob as the henpecked husband and his shrew of a wife.
If the mad woman caught sight of Anna there would be trouble, I felt sure; so I pushed on, hoping to avoid touch with the crowd, who would most likely turn by the road we had come, to make the circuit of the town. But the spectacle had some attraction for Vliet, who stood to see the crowd go by, saying with a laugh, "Ah! justitia de los cornudos!" from which I surmised he had seen the riding of the stang in Spain.
I asked Anna to urge the five Dutchmen forward, the boat being yet some four hundred yards away. As I feared, some of the mob stopped to stare at Vliet in his foreign costume, and this led to Ducker's wife perceiving Anna and me. She raised the cry, "Witches! witches!" and the crowd took it up instantly. I saw the vixen leap down from her charger to join the blacksmith's wife in the leadership of the gang, which followed us pell-mell. Then I ran for the boat, half carrying Anna, who at first hung back, imploring me to go to her father's rescue. As he had six men well armed to defend him—for the Dutchmen had faced about and behaved manfully, the two who had borne the baggage pitching it into the reed-bed that bordered the road, and taking to their weapons—I attended to nothing but Anna's safety. I had put her into the boat, and made the man understand that he must push out into the stream, and take shelter under the reeds, when the rest of our party came up, the mob at their heels, brandishing their pokers, gridirons, cleavers, and what not, encouraging one another with shouts of "The witch! Tear her to scotticks!" and savage curses.
With great coolness and quickness, the Dutchmen took in the condition of things, and faced the angry rabble, and two of them fired. Whether any one was hurt, I could not see, but the yelling mob was not even checked. On they came furiously, and for some minutes we were engaged in a confused hand-to-hand struggle, which would have ended, most likely, in our being forced into the river by sheer weight of numbers, but for a pistol-shot fired into the rear of the crowd, which took them by surprise, and scattered them a little. This gave the Dutchmen the chance to use their muskets, and as one of the leaders of the mob fell, the rest were somewhat daunted, and drew off a few yards. Then Luke ran from behind them, and took his stand by me. He it was who had fired the shot which saved us, having followed me with my pistols. In this lull of the storm, I tried to persuade the folk to go away; but I had scarcely begun to speak, when one of the men took a stride forward and hurled a gridiron at my head, which happily flew wide, for I leaped on him in the act, snatching him up, and tossing him into the reed-bed. But he had given the others a lead which they were quick to follow; all sorts of missiles hurtled about us, and one of the musketeers was struck and fell backwards into the river. We could do nothing for him, because another shower of knives, pots, and stones flew about us, and our assailants came on with a rush. I gave Vliet a hint, though I knew not whether he understood English. He nodded, and spoke to his men. When the foremost of the crowd were right upon us, we drew apart swiftly, Vliet and three of the Dutchmen on one side, I and Luke and one of the Dutchmen on the other. The pressure of those behind sent five or six of the leaders headlong into the river, and we threw or thrust several more after them. The rest took fright, and ran like so many rabbits. I believe the discovery that the "witch" had vanished had as much to do with their panic as the loss of their boldest spirits, who were floundering in the water. As the rabble fled, I perceived that blood was spouting from my right wrist, and my strength going with it. I asked Luke to tie my handkerchief tightly round it, but that did no good; the handkerchief was a soaked rag in no time, and the blood still pouring. Luke in great alarm called for Doctor Goel, who came and ripped up my coat and shirt-sleeves, and placing a bit of wood on my arm some distance above the elbow, fastened it there with a bandage torn from my shirt. This marvellously staunched the bleeding, but I became queerly drowsy, and sat on the ground, overcome with languor. The doctor went from me to look at two fellows, dead, or badly wounded, who lay in the road.
The Dutchmen were chasing the men in the river, firing now and then, but everything was dreamlike to me, until I heard a light footstep behind me, which I knew was Anna's. Before I could turn round, I saw a movement in the reeds, and then a face, the mad woman's face, glaring at me, or at some one behind me. The next instant she sprang from her hiding-place, knife in hand, and I, now roused from my stupor, rose to seize her. I caught her in my arms, but she bore me to the ground. She writhed and twisted; she clasped her hands round my neck, trying to strangle me; she bit my bare shoulder; but I had just sense and strength enough to hold her fast until I heard Luke say—
"Let go, Measter Frank—let go; I have her safe, and you're bleeding to death."
The next thing I knew was that the vicar stood near in his old gown, and he and everybody looked so solemn that I got the notion this was a funeral company, and I the person they meant to bury.
"You mustn't," I whispered. "I'm not dead."
Wine was produced in some mysterious way, and Anna held the horn to my lips. The draught revived me greatly, and they told me what had passed during my fainting fit. As soon as the crazy woman had been secured, Luke had run to the vicarage for wine, and had ordered the sexton to bring the bier as the handiest means of conveyance. The vicar had followed. The doctor had attended to my wounds, and given instructions for their future treatment, and now Vliet was impatient to be gone. So we said our adieux, and Anna's right hand lay for a moment in my left, and my lips touched it. Then the boat moved off, and I was carried to the vicarage.