&c. &c.
CHAPTER I.
The last rays of a July sun were extending themselves over the western sky, and that sweetest period of a summer’s day—the cool evening—had just opened, when a horseman made his appearance on the high-road between Exeter and London, in the midland section of Devonshire. He looked a young man; and his years were not so many even, as one would, at first sight, have inferred from his looks. Care and travel, and probably privation, had given a stamp of experience to his features, and an air of reflection to his face, that savoured more of a man of thirty, than one of four or five and twenty years, which was more likely his age. Yet, to judge from his appearance, he was not one of those who would let the cares of life press upon him heavily, or of a constitution that, from any imperfectness or defect, would suffer greatly under the infliction of privation or hardship. His countenance was almost an oval, and sorted well with his light-brown beard and moustache, which, though they were no way scanty, he wore thin and pointed. His complexion was of that red and white which, in men, is so peculiarly English, and would have been fair to effeminacy, only that it bore evidence of having been exposed, no very long time previous, to a more glowing sun than that of England, which had given it a more manly tone, and rendered its beauty more lively and animated. His blue eyes were not large, but they were finely coloured and penetrating, and harmonized well with his fair forehead, which, though not lofty, was unruffled and expansive. His other features were turned with accuracy, and the tone of each was such as, in most instances, marks a sanguine temperament and a generous disposition. Nevertheless, the ensemble of his face was not without a touch of melancholy, though it was probably more the indication and effect of a pensive turn of mind, nursed by vicissitude, or kept in constant exercise by his daily avocations, than the vestige of any past sorrow or present care. Indeed, in the life and animation of every feature, this small trace of gloom beneath the eyes, though it was ever present, was almost lost; and there was no point in his face but manifested, in a greater or a less degree, the spirit of frankness, buoyancy, and good-nature.
The horseman was of a tall person, which was the more in his favour as, from early exercise, the muscles of his fine broad chest were fully developed, and all his well-turned limbs denoted unity and power. He was attired in grave habits, cut in the fashion of the age, which was that of Elizabeth; yet his erect and soldier-like bearing, more conspicuous from his being mounted, betokened that he had not always worn the garments of peace, but had at some time followed the noble profession of arms. A long basket-hilted sword, of the kind called cut-and-thrust, hung at his left side; and a small valise (seemingly made to hold a change of raiment, and probably the appurtenances of his toilet), which was fastened to the back of his saddle, completed his equipment.
He sat his horse with much grace, and with that union of ease and dignity, joined to flexity of limb, which denoted no less the perfect horseman, than the true and polished gentleman.
A slight breeze had risen with the evening, and as he had probably ridden some distance, and the day had been warm, the horseman rode along at a gentle pace, in order that he might enjoy more fully, and with greater ease, the fresh free air that played around him. As he passed along, his eye glanced wistfully over the country on either side, seeming to take in, every now and then, some well-known and agreeable object, that called a brighter lustre to his eye, and often a smile to his lip. Occasionally the notes of a blackbird, or some other feathered songster, would draw his attention to the bush that bordered the road, and which was now adorned with many a wreath of the wild dog-rose, and the varied greens of the hawthorn and blackberry. Then his feelings, responding to the cheering melody, would manifest a new and more sensible buoyancy, and spread over his manly face a glow of earnest pleasure.
Thus he rode leisurely along, when, as he approached a secluded-looking by-road, his ear was saluted by the report of a pistol, followed by a shrill scream; and this incident induced him to bring his horse to a stand. But after a moment’s hesitation he pushed forward again, and, clapping spurs to his horse, passed at a smart pace down the contiguous by-road, whence the sounds that had alarmed him seemed to have emanated.
The road was, like all the cross-roads of the period, narrow and rugged, and in many parts overgrown with grass, or traversed by deep ruts, that rendered any kind of progress a matter of labour and difficulty. It was bounded on either side by the fence of the neighbouring fields—the common quickset, or field-hedge, which now had attained its full growth, and displayed all the luxuriance of maturity. Behind the hedge ran a row of elms, in irregular rank, and at no certain or fixed intervals, the boughs of which overhung the road, and frequently met about its centre. Indeed, the road was not unlike the avenue to a gentleman’s house, only that its extreme ruggedness, joined to the fence of quickset aforementioned, and its occasional patches of vegetation, somewhat impaired the similarity, and were features that such a locality could not be expected to exhibit.
At length our horseman came to an angle in the road, about a quarter of a mile from the highway, which, turning sharply round, opened to view a scene that inspired him with the deepest interest.