I found that his seizure was really trifling, and he assured me he would be able to resume the journey by daylight, the farmer agreeing to furnish him horses; so, in half an hour I had again taken the road.
And ten miles from York, the chaise broke down!
I had the horses taken out, and, mounting the best beast, made for York at the top of his speed, which was poor,—the creature was already spent with traveling.
It was just daylight, and streaks of golden glory were lighting up the pallid dawn; I urged the poor beast onward. Seven miles he went, then he dropped dead, just as the sun was gilding the spires of York Cathedral. Before me, along the road, jogged an itinerant tinker on a rather good-looking horse, the tools of a tinker’s trade hanging from a moth-eaten saddle. I was young and strong,—he was middle-aged and ill-fed and feeble. I ran up to him, holding five guineas in my hand.
“Lend me this horse to ride to York!” I cried.
The man, astonished at my abrupt address, stopped, but gave me no answer. I made my own answer, though, by dragging him off the beast, dashing the five guineas on the ground, and clattering off, throwing away the tools and kettles as I galloped along.
Already there were great crowds in the streets, and as I made my way madly toward the jail, I was often impeded. I shrieked, I screamed at the people, and waved aloft my precious paper, shouting, “Pardon! Pardon!” The cry was taken up, and swelled in a great roar that came from a thousand friendly throats. As I galloped along on the tinker’s horse, in a frenzy, through the crowded streets, an awful unspeakable Thing loomed up before me. It was the gibbet, and it was empty!
I felt the hot tears run down my cheeks at this, and some recollection of the God that Overton had preached to me caused me to utter an inarticulate thanksgiving! But if my tongue faltered, my heart did not.
At last I pushed my way through shouting crowds, to the jail. The people parted, and I saw a black cart drawn by a white horse, and Giles Vernon, with pinioned hands, sitting in it, by the side of the hangman. I noticed—as I did all the trifles of that dreadful time—that the jailer was ashy pale, and Giles was fresh-colored. I flung myself off my horse, rushed toward the cart, holding the paper above my head. Oh, the roaring and the shouting! I thrust it in Giles’ face; the hangman, in a second, cut the thongs that bound the prisoner’s hands. Giles took the pardon and kissed it, and then threw his arms around me and kissed me, and smiled and waved his hat in the air, while voices thundered, men shouting like demons, and women screaming and weeping. And the next thing I knew Daphne appeared, as if dropped down from Heaven, and, springing into the cart, clasped Giles; and Lady Hawkshaw, a little slower, but yet quick, descended from the coach, in which she and Daphne had come, and embraced all of us; and then, the cheering seemed to rend the skies.
