Although the youth looked upon a scene familiar to his eye (for it was the place of his birth, and from whence as yet his truant steps had scarcely measured a score of miles), his capable eye dwelt upon every point of interest and beauty in the surrounding picture.
He had reached the age when the poetry of life begins to be felt; when an incipient longing for society of the softer sex, and an anxiety to look well in the eyes of the fair; to deserve well of woman, and to be thought a sort of soldier-servant and defender of beauty, is mixed up with the sterner ambitions of manhood.
Perhaps few forms would have been more likely to captivate the fancy of the other sex than the figure and face of this youth, as he stood at gaze in the clear morning air, and contemplated the landscape around. In shape, he was slightly but elegantly formed, and his well-knit limbs were seen to advantage in the close-fitting but homely suit he wore. Added to this figure of a youthful Apollo, was a countenance of genius, intelligence, and beauty, peculiarly indicative of the mind of the owner. His costume, we have already said, was homely; it was, indeed, but one remove from the dress of the common man of the period. A gray doublet of coarse cloth, edged or guarded with black, and tight-fitting trunks and hose of the same material; to those were added a common felt hat with steeple crown, and shoes without rosettes. In his hand he carried a stout quarter-staff, shod with iron at either end. No costume, however, could disguise or alter the nobility of look and gallant bearing of that youth. After regarding the view presented to him in the clear morning air for some moments, he turned, leaped the last enclosure which pertained to the suburbs of the town, and pursued his way through a wild chase or park, avoiding the more thick woods on his right.
How slight and trivial are sometimes the accidents which control the fate of man!
On setting out from his own home, the stripling had intended to traverse the woodlands which lay between his native town and Warwick, in order to keep an appointment he had made with some youthful associates of the latter place—some wild and reckless young men with whom he had lately become acquainted. The church clock, however, whilst it informed him he had anticipated the hour, determined him to change his intention of going straight to the trysting-place, and he turned his steps in a different direction. He therefore left the deep woodlands on his right, and sought the enclosures of Clopton Hall.
This change of purpose, in all probability, saved the life of the handsome lad. As he turned from the woodlands on his right, and sought the fern-clad chase and plantations in which Clopton Hall is embosomed, a tall, fierce-looking man, clad in the well-worn suit of a ranger or forester, stepped from the thick cover. As he did so, the forester lowered a cross-bow, with which he had been taking a steady aim at the stripling, from his shoulder, and stood and watched him till he disappeared.
"Now the red pestilence strike him," said the man. "He has again escaped me. But an I give him not the death of a fat buck ere many days are over his head, may my bow-string be the halter that hangs me."
"Nay, comrade," said a second forester, at that moment coming forward, "believe me, 'tis better as it is; thou must e'en drop this business, and satisfy thy revenge by a less matter than murder. I half suspected thy intent, and, therefore, have I followed thee. Come," he continued, "thou must, I say, forgive the affront this lad has put upon thee."
"May the fiend take me then!" returned the ruffian.
"Nay, thou art most likely the property of St. Nicholas methinks. Whatsoever thou dost," said the other, "certainly he will catch thee by the back if thou should harm this youngster."