Thus, in mingled meditation, he rode on, with sweet and pleasant images presented by memory, and painful reflections chequering the too bright vision.
He had not gone more than eight miles when he saw a man rapidly approaching down the slope of the opposite hill. He could hardly believe that his servant had returned so soon; yet the figure was so much the same--a diminutive man on a tall horse--that, though some distance intervened, he recognized him. They met at the bottom of the valley, and Smeaton asked eagerly,
"Well, what news? Have you brought me a letter?"
"I have brought your own back again, my Lord," replied Higham, holding it out to his master, as he rode up; "and no other answer could I get."
"No answer!" echoed Smeaton, taking the letter, and seeing that it had been opened. "What did he say, or cause to be said to you?"
"Oh, he said very little," replied the man, "and caused nothing to be said at all; for he seemed quite capable of speaking for himself, and that pretty sharply. He broke open the letter, read it through from beginning to end, and then thrust it into my hand, saying, 'You had better ride back again.' I asked if he would not send an answer by me, or if he would send one afterwards. But he said no answer was needed, and called out: 'Take it back to him who sent you. That is the only answer.'"
Smeaton's cheek burned, and his heart beat angrily.
"This is insult," he muttered. "This is insult as well as injury. Some day I may call him to account for it."
"I must say for him, my Lord," added the man, "that it was not a lucky moment to fall upon; for he was at the head of the men drawn up on the little green, and just ready to march."
"That is no excuse," said Smeaton. "The same number of words, the same amount of breath, the same space of time, would have conveyed an honourable as a dishonourable reply. He might have said that he would write when he was at leisure, that he would see me if I would follow him, and that I might do so in safety. It would have cost no more time." Then, turning round his horse, with his heart all on fire, he asked himself: "Shall I stoop to be a beggar for simple justice? No, no. The case is very clear. They have made up their mind to drive every one they doubt into insurrection. They say, Those who are not for us are against us: They have chosen their part with regard to me. It is time that I should choose mine with regard to them."