III.
I do not think that I had slept above half-an-hour when I was awoke by Merciful Wiggleskirk, who laid his hand on my shoulder and at the same moment bade me make no noise. There was a very dim moonlight flooding the cottage when I opened my eyes, and at first I took it for the dawn and thought that my last hour was come.
“So they are ready, eh, lad,” says I, sitting up. “Faith, the night’s been short, but thank God, I have slept soundly.”
“Hush, master,” says he. “The night’s not half over. We have work to do yet. Hearken to me—are you minded to escape if I show you the way?”
“What’s all this?” I says, staring at him in the dim light. “Say plainly what’s on your mind.”
“Why, then,” says he, “your cousin, Mistress French, has devised some plan of rescuing you, and it falls to me to carry out this part of it. Are you willing?”
“Willing!” I says. “Come, let us hasten.”
“First,” says he, “let me doctor your foot. We have still a quarter of an hour. I waked you in advance of the time so that I might be able to minister to your hurt. It may be that you’ll have to use that foot whether it pain you or no.”
“I’ll make shift,” says I, all impatient now that I knew Alison had not forgotten me. I was anxious to proceed to our next movement, but Wiggleskirk made me sit down while he rubbed his balm of Gilead into my leg. He busied himself in this fashion for some minutes, and then proceeded to bandage my ankle and foot with linen swathes. “There,” says he at last. “Now stand up, master, and see if you cannot use your foot a little.”
Now, whether it was the healing powers of Merciful’s ointment, or my own excitement at the thought of regaining my freedom that worked such wonders in me, I don’t know, but whatever it was I found on putting my foot to the ground that I could walk with some little difficulty. There was still much stiffness and discomfort in my foot, but the pain had abated in marvellous fashion.
“Thou art a very miracle-monger,” says I. “Come, what do we turn to next?”
“Have patience,” says he. “There’s much at stake.” He opened the door of the cottage and looked forth. The moon was then dipping into a bank of cloud. “Now,” says he, “I think we may venture,” and he beckoned me to follow him. We left the cottage, and turning the corner crept along behind the hedgerow. For fifty yards I contrived to amble along, but then the pain returned, and I was forced to call a halt. “Pain or no pain,” says Merciful, “we must onward,” and he drew my arm within his and supported me. Soon we came to a little grove of trees. “Here are two men with four horses,” he whispers in my ear. “Ask no question of them—all you have to do is to mount and ride. I shall be at your side, and we are going to your cousin.”
We were now close to the horses, and one of the men, coming forward, assisted Merciful to lift me into the saddle. “All clear,” says Merciful, and we set out across the fields, the three men closely surrounding me. One of the strange men led the way, and I observed that he was careful to keep clear of the town. For some time I was not sure as to the direction we were following, but after skirting the fields that lie between Tanshelf and Mill Hill we eventually came out on the Barnsdale road, and ere long I saw the top of the old manor rising up in the moonlight.
“Surely we cannot be going there!” I thought. But when we came to the corner of the village street our leader turned his horse, and in a few minutes they were assisting me to dismount in the courtyard. “Well, this,” thinks I, “is the strangest adventure,” but I said naught. The men tied their horses to the rings at the mounting-stone, and Merciful Wiggleskirk gave me his arm. And then all four of us were at the porch, and the door of the great kitchen opened, and there stood Alison, holding a lamp above her head, just as she had stood when I and the Stirks came to warn her of her danger but a few nights before. I stared at her as she looked at us and was amazed. Her eyes were bright, there was the rarest colour in her cheeks, she had never looked so handsome, I swear, but there was something in her face that I had never seen there before. It was excitement, apprehension, fear—I know not what; but when her eyes fell on me it vanished. She gave me one swift look, and then turned into the kitchen. The two strangers followed her close, with me and Wiggleskirk in attendance, and as we came into the light the foremost of them threw aside the cloak that had so effectively concealed him from me. It was Anthony Dacre!
I looked from him to her. She stood, proud and haughty by the hearth, and gave no more heed to me than if I had been a stone. Anthony Dacre spoke, setting his eyes on her boldly.
“There, madam,” says he, with a bow that began at her and finished at me, “you see how well I have executed your commands. Here stands Master Richard Coope, alive and unhurt Have I done well, fair cousin?”
“You have done excellent well, sir,” says she.
“Then there is naught left, madam,” says he, “but to claim my reward.”
“And that,” says she, “you shall have without delay. But first I must transact that business with Master Coope that I told you of. Master Richard, will it please you to step with me into the hall for a moment?”
But I looked at her and then at him.
“Hold!” says I. “What is the meaning of all this, and what is that reward you speak of, Master Dacre?”
He gave me a triumphant look.
“In return for saving your life,” says he, “Mistress French confers upon me her hand and heart. Here,” he says, motioning towards the man at his side, “is the clergyman who will presently marry us.”
“Is this true?” says I, and looked at Alison.
“And what right has Master Richard Coope to ask such a question?” says she, in her haughtiest manner. But she had contrived to get ’twixt me and Anthony, and she gave me a look which signified so much that I saw through all this mystery in an instant. “By heaven!” thinks I, “she has tricked him after all!” And I followed up her clue. “Nay,” says I, sulkily, “it’s naught to me, mistress. But what’s this business that you speak of?”
“Step with me into the hall,” says she. She turned to Anthony, and gave him the sweetest look. “We shall need but a few minutes, cousin,” she says.
I hobbled into the hall. She followed me close, and shut the door. I turned to her, and as our eyes met she threw her arms about my neck, and held me to her. “Oh, Dick!” she cries. “My dear, my dear, if you knew what I have gone through. But you are safe,” she says, starting away, “and there is so much to do. Come——”
“Alison,” I said, holding her hand. “What is all this—what does it mean?”
“Dick,” she says, looking me straight in the eyes, “do you love me?”
“As my life—and more!” says I.
“And will you marry me—now?” she says.
“Now?” I says. “But I will do aught that you wish,” I says, sore mystified.
“Come, come!” she says, and drags me to the door of the little parlour. “There are good friends here,” she says, and leads me within.
There was old Drumbleforth, the parson, there, with John and Humphrey Stirk. Alison led me up to the clergyman. “Stand by the door, John and Humphrey,” says she. “Now, Master Drumbleforth, will you wed me to my cousin?”
“You are both of a mind, children?” says the old man, looking from one to the other. “But I see you are,” he says, and opened his book.
So we were married, and as the parson said his last word I took my wife in my arms and kissed her for the first time.
By that time I was well nigh amazed with the succession of conflicting emotions that I had experienced during the day and night. I could not believe that things were real. I stood staring at Alison and old Parson Drumbleforth. She smiled at me, and then seemed to recollect herself.
“John,” says she, “do you and Humphrey see to your arms, and give my husband those that you have prepared for him. There may be need for them, but I think not. Now——” she left the parlour, and crossed the hall. She flung open the door. “I am ready for you, Master Anthony,” she cried. “Will you step this way with your friend?”
She came back and stood at my side, putting out her hand to touch mine. And then came Anthony Dacre, followed by the other man, and they stopped on the threshold and stared at us.
Faith! I am not sure that I did not pity Anthony as he stood there. He looked at Alison and at me, and from us to old Parson Drumbleforth, and at sight of him his face turned from red to black, and from black to white. He looked back to Alison. “Tricked!” he says. She looked steadily at him: his eyes dropped: he turned to the door. But Merciful Wiggleskirk had followed them in, and had now closed the door behind them, and stood against it with a pistol in his hand.
Anthony Dacre turned to sudden rage. “Let me go,” he says.
“When Master Drumbleforth has answered some questions,” says Alison. She turned to the old man. “This afternoon,” she says, “Anthony Dacre asked me to marry him. Have you aught to say to that, sir?”
“Child,” says old Drumbleforth, “He is married already—I married him myself in my parish church of Darrington.”
“He has brought a clergyman with him to perform the ceremony,” says she, still watching Anthony. “Step forward, friend—let us look at you.”
The man drew nearer, with evident unwillingness. He removed his cloak from his face. “He paid me to do it,” growls he, motioning towards Anthony.
“Preserve us!” says Merciful Wiggleskirk. “’Tis Tobias Tomkins of our troop—he is no more a parson than I am, and not half so much so.”
“I had meant to ask Master Drumbleforth if he recognised him for a clergyman of the rural deanery,” says Alison. “But there’s no need. I have no more to say. And yet——” she paused and looked at Anthony once again. “I have played with fairer weapons than yours,” she says.