"Sir," says she, remembering me, even in her trouble and confusion, "you were best to go. Fly, fly! 'twas not your fault. He attacked you. Fly!"
Dear heart, there was none in those parts and on that night that might aspire to stop or catch Dick Ryder; but she knew not that, the innocent. I bowed to her.
"Give ye good cheer, madam," said I; "maybe I have served you better than ye think, first with the cold night, and second with the eclipse of this hot blood."
She threw me a wistful, wondering and pitiful glance, and then a groan drew her attention to her husband and she stooped over him tenderly.
At that I swung out of the door and sought my horse; and as I mounted Calypso, says I to the innkeeper, who attended me all unconscious, "I have stuck a point in that muckworm's shoulder," says I, "and ye had better relieve the lady's fears; but," says I, as I rode off, "if I had stuck it in his gizzard, as I had a mind to do, 'twould have served her better." And with that I plunged into the wind and snow of the night.
[GALLOWS GATE]
'Twas two o'clock of a bright mild March day that I cleared St Leonard's Forest and came out upon the roads at the back of Horsham. I was for London, but chose that way by reason of a better security it promised, which, as it chanced, was a significant piece of irony. Horsham, a mighty quiet pretty town, lay in a blaze of the sun, enduring the sallies of a dusty wind, and feeling hot and athirst after my long ride I pulled up at an inn and dismounted.
"Host," says I, when I was come in, "a pint of your best burgundy or canary to wash this dust adown; and rip me if I will not have it laced with brandy."