The exclamatory phrases were called forth, as turning towards the park, he caught sight of the mansion, visible through an opening between the chestnuts.
Several windows were alight; but the eye of the cavalier dwelt only on one—where under the arcade of the curtains, and against the luminous background of a burning lamp, a female form was discernible. Only the figure could be traced at that far distance; but this—tall, graceful and majestic—proclaimed it to be the silhouette of Marion Wade.
After a prolonged gaze—commencing with a smile, and terminating in a sigh—Holtspur once more gave Hubert the rein, and moved silently onward.
The ruined hut on Jarret’s Heath was soon reached, conspicuous under the silvery moonlight, as he had last viewed it: but no longer the rendezvous of Gregory Garth and his fierce footpads. The dummies had disappeared—even to the sticks that had served to support them—and nought remained to indicate, that in that solitary place the traveller had ever listened to the unpleasant summons:—“Stand and deliver!”
Holtspur could not pass the spot without smiling; and more: for, as the ludicrous incident came more clearly before his mind, he drew up his horse, and, leaning back in the saddle, gave utterance to a loud laugh.
Hubert, on hearing his master in such a merry mood, uttered a responsive neigh. Perhaps Hubert was laughing too; but man and horse became silent instantly, and from precaution.
More than one neigh had responded to that of Holtspur’s steed; which the cavalier knew were not echoes, but proceeded from horses approaching the spot.
Suddenly checking his laughter, and giving his own steed a signal to be still, he remained listening.
The neighing of the strange horses had been heard at a distance: as if from some cavalcade coming up the road by Red Hill. In time, there were other sounds to confirm the surmise: the clanking of sabres against iron stirrups, and the hoof-strokes of the horses themselves.
“A troop!” muttered Holtspur. “Some of Scarthe’s following, I suppose—from an errand to Uxbridge? Come, Hubert! They must not meet us.”