Having stayed till it was near dark, he thought it time for putting business into a proper train. Going then to a public house known by the name of the World’s End, he inquired for the ostler, whom he knew to be a steady fellow; and after obtaining from this man a promise either to serve him in an affair of moment in which he was engaged, or keep the secret, he related the particulars of his assignation, and the intended elopement; to forward which, he desired him to let them have his master’s mare, which he knew would carry double.—This agreed on, he requested the further service of meeting him at the Raffle Shop (now the Library) at ten o’clock: a whistle was to be given by the first who got there, as a signal. They met pretty punctually; and Metcalf asked him if he saw a star, meaning the light before mentioned: he said, he did not; but in less than half an hour the star was in the place appointed. They then left the horses at a little distance from the house, not choosing to venture into the court-yard, it being paved. On the door being opened by the lady, he asked her if the was ready; to which she replied in the affirmative.—He advised her, however, to pack up a gown or two, as she probably might not see her mother again for some time. The ostler having recommended the lady’s pillion to Metcalf, in preference to that of his mistress, he asked her for it:—“O dear!” said she, “it is in the other house; but we must have it.” She then went to the window and called up her sister, who let her in. The pillion and cloth were in the room where the supposed bridegroom slept; and on his seeing her enter, she said, “I’ll take this and brush it, that it may be ready in the morning.” “That’s well thought on, my dear,” said he. She then came down, and all three went to the horses. Metcalf mounted her behind his friend, then got upon his own horse, and away they went. At that time it was not a matter of so much difficulty to get married as it is at present; and they, with only the trouble of riding twelve miles, and at a small expence, were united.
Metcalf left his bride, on his return, at a friend’s house within five miles of Harrogate, but did not dismount, being in haste to return the mare he had borrowed with French leave. A few minutes after their return, Mr. Body, the landlord, called for his mare, to go to Knaresborough, and fortunately she was ready for him.
Metcalf now went to the Queen’s Head, to perform the usual service of playing during the breakfast half hour. His overnight’s excursion made him rather thoughtful, having got a bird, but no cage for it. While he was musing on this subject, an acquaintance, who made one of the intended bridegroom’s company the evening before, came up, and asked him to take a glass with him. Metcalf quickly guessed what his business was, but adjourned with him to a private room, seemingly unconcerned. “Metcalf,” said he “a strange thing has happened since you were with us last night, concerning Dolly Benson, who was to have been married this morning to Anthony Dickinson.—You are suspected of knowing something about the former; and I shall briefly state to you the consternation which her disappearance has occasioned, and the reasons why suspicion falls upon you. This morning, early, the bridegroom went to Knaresborough, and informed the Rev. Mr. Collins that he and his intended wife were coming that forenoon to be married. In his absence Mrs. Benson and her other daughter began to prepare for breakfast; and observing that Dolly lay very long in bed, her mother desired that she might be called; but her usual bedfellow declaring that she had not slept with her, she was ordered to seek her in some of the other rooms. This was done, but in vain. They then took it for granted that she had taken a ride with Mr. Dickinson; but he returning, could give no account of her. All her friends began now to be very seriously alarmed; and, amongst other fearful conjectures, supposed that she might have fallen into the well, in attempting to draw water for breakfast; and actually got some iron creepers, and searched the well. Her brother then took horse, and rode to Burton-Leonard, to a young man who had slightly paid his addresses to her, and, informing him of the distress of the family, begged he would give information, if in his power. The young man immediately asked him if he had seen Blind Jack; he answered, that you were at the Oak last night, but did not in the least suspect you.—The other, however, persisted in the opinion that you were most likely to know where the girl was, and gave the following incident as a reason: Being, not long since, at a dance, where Miss Benson made one, he observed her wiping a profuse perspiration from your face, with an handkerchief; and this act was accompanied by a look so tender, as left no doubt in his mind of her being strongly attached to you.”
This narrative (a part of which was no news to Metcalf) was scarcely finished, when young Benson appeared; and Metcalf put an end to all inquiry, by declaring the truth: and thinking it his duty to conciliate, if possible, those whom he had offended, he employed the softest phrases he was master of on the occasion. He begged pardon, through their son, of Mr. and Mrs. Benson, whom he did not presume to call father and mother, and wished them to believe that the warmth of his passion for their daughter, with the despair of obtaining their consent, had led him to the measures he had taken; and that he would make them the best amends in his power, by the affectionate conduct he should observe to his wife.
The son, in part pacified, left Metcalf, and reported this declaration to his parents: but they were just as well pleased at it, as they would have been at the sight of their building in flames; and, in the height of passion, declared they would put him to death, if they met with him.
The poor forlorn Dickinson then departed, accompanied by one of Mr. Benson’s sons. When they got near his home, they heard two sets of bells, viz. those of Folifoot and Kirby Overblow, ringing, in expectation of the arrival of the bride and groom; but the sound was more like that of a knell to Dickinson, who fell from his horse through anguish, but was relieved by the attention of his friend. The company were surprised at not seeing the bride; but matters were soon explained, and they were desired to partake of the fare provided for them.
Metcalf not being able, at once, to procure a Palace for his Queen, took a small house at Knaresborough. It now became matter of wonder that she should have preferred a blind man to Dickinson, she being as handsome a woman as any in the country. A lady having asked her why she had refused so many good offers for Blind Jack; she answered, “Because I could not be happy without him:” And being more particularly questioned, she replied, “His actions are so singular, and his spirit so manly and enterprising, that I could not help liking him.” Metcalf being interrogated, on his part, how he had contrived to obtain the lady, replied, That many women were like liquor-merchants, who purchase spirits above proof, knowing that they can lower them at home; and this, he thought, would account why many a rake got a wife, while your plodding sons of phlegm were doomed to celibacy.
He now went to Harrogate, as usual, with the exception of one house. Meeting with a butcher there one day, and drinking pretty freely, a wager was proposed to Metcalf, that he durst not visit his mother-in-law. He took the wager, mounted his horse, and riding up to the kitchen-door, called for a pint of wine. There being then only women in the house, they all ran up stairs in a fright. He then rode into the kitchen, through the house, and out at the hall door, no one molesting him. As there were many evidences to this act of heroism, he returned, and demanding the stakes, received them without opposition.
The Harrogate season being on the decline, he retired to Knaresborough, where he purchased an old house, intending to build on its scite the next summer. Assisted by another stout man, he began to get stones up from the river; and being much used to the water, took great delight in this sort of work. Meeting with some workmen, he told them the intended dimensions of his house, and they named a price, by the rood, for building it: but Metcalf, calculating from his own head, found that their estimate would not do; so letting them the job by lump agreement, they completed it at about half the sum which they would have got by the rood.
He now went to the Oak, to demand his wife’s cloaths, but was refused: on a second application, however, he succeeded. His wife having brought him a boy, and some genteel people being the sponsors, they employed their good offices to heal the breach between the families, and were so fortunate as to succeed. On the birth of a daughter (the second child) Mrs. Benson herself was godmother, and presented Metcalf with fifty guineas.