Joseph Wilmot, or, The Memoirs of a Man-Servant — page 317: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

304 on with greater force. The clouds were gathered on the face of heaven; and a rather strong wind blew across the heath. I had an umbrella—but in consequence of the wind, I did not put it up. Buttoning my coat across my chest, I confronted the inclemency of the evening, and was soon at a distance from Blackwater. The darkness deepened around me, so that I had some difficulty in keep- ing the proper path. Two or three times I feared that I had struck into a wrong one, until some familiar object, dimly seen through the darkness, set my apprehensions at rest: for in consequence of having driven Mrs. Shackleford about in the phaeton, all the roads, lanes, and bridle-paths in the district were tolerably well known to me. While advancing across the heath, I was so profoundly engaged in reflections which intimately concerned myself and my own position, that I had not once bethought me of the masked highway- man until I suddenly heard the quick tramplings of horse’s feet. Then, all in an instant, the re- collection of the lawless desperado flashed to my mind; and grasping the umbrella in such a way that it might serve as a weapon for defence, and its ivory handle be levelled to deal a blow if re- quisite, I determined to give the highwayman such a reception as I might be enabled to afford. Not half-a-dozen seconds elapsed from the moment that the sounds of the animal’s feet reached my ears, ere the horseman galloped up to the spot where I stood ready for defence. The darkness was now so deep as to be almost intense: never- theless I was at once enabled to perceive that the fellow wore something over his countenance—for it was all black under the brims of his slouching hat. “Your money or your life!” he instantaneously exclaimed, in a deep hoarse rough voice: and a pistol was presented to my head. “Villain!” I ejaculated, springing aside quick as lightning, and levelling at him a blow directed with all my force. But the next moment he was galloping, as if madness had seized upon both horse and man, across the heath. It was all the work of far less than a minute: his appearance and his vanishing amidst the darkness were like magic. I could scarcely believe the evidence of my own senses: I stood transfixed, as if suddenly awakening from asomnambulistic dream. I really was at a loss for a few seconds to convince myself that the adventure was aught beside a delusion of the fancy. Was it my resoluteness which had ter- rified the scoundrel? was he in his heart a coward P or had he really such an instinctive horror of shedding blood that he dared not trust himself to the chances of a conflict? But then I recollected that in the case of the Professor of the Royal Military College, he had used a certain degree of violence to accomplish his purpose; and it was consequently all the more unaccountable that he should abstain from it now. When thus able to reason calmly and deliberately on the incident, I congratulated myself on my escape: for my young life might certainly, had the villain chosen, been sacrificed to the pistol which he presented at my head—supposing that it was really loaded. As I continued my way, I endeavoured to recol- lect what sort of a person in regard to form and stature he had the air of being: I tried hard to fix upon my mind some impression to that effect— | rt ee - ——— ~~ JOSEPH WILMOT; OR, THE MEMOIRS OF A MAN-SERVANT. On but I could not. His appearance and disappear- ance had been so sudden, that I could no more have recognised him again, even if he had stood in my presence habited exactly as he was, only without the mask to prove what he was. Ina word, the entire incident appeared like a dream which vanishes away, leaving only the faintest, the vaguest, and the dimmest impression behind it. It was long past ten o'clock when I reached Heather Place: but Mr. Shackleford uttered not a single syllable of upbraiding: he no doubt made allowances for me, inasmuch as it was so late when I had sallied forth. Idid not choose to mention a syllable of my adventure with the highwayman, —as it would have really seemed that I was in- dulging in a romance or a gasconade. On the following day I had an interview with Calanthe, and informed her of the arrangements which I had made and which now stood for the morrow. She was delighted at the renewed pros- pect of liberation from her imprisonment, and at the thought of speedily accompanying me to the altar. In the course of the afternoon Mr. Shackle. ford sent me with a present of some strawberries to the Foleys; and on my way homeward I en- countered Mr. Games, the village-surgeon. I had not seen this gentleman for the last month; and he stopped to speak to me. He observed that he had been for a long round, and that he was ex- ceedingly tired: his clothes were covered with dust—and the perspiration was pouring down his face. Seating himself on the heather by the road- side, he began to talk in a way which showed that he was in a humour for conversation; and as I was in no particular hurry to get back, I sat down with him. “So you have had illness at the Place?” re- marked Mr. Games. “I understand that Mrs. Shackleford has been very much indisposed 5 * For the last five weeks she has not left her chamber,” I answered ; “ and she is still in a some- what precarious state.’ “ Well, she has Willis to attend upon her,” ob- served Games; “and he is aclever man. There is no professional jealousy about me ; and therefore I don’t mind paying a compliment to a-brother prac- titioner. Besides, I have as much to do as I can possibly attend to—although, as you see, I have to run about for it:’—and then the worthy man wiped the perspiration from his face with his pocket handkerchief. “ Your patient yonder,” I observed, glancing in the direction of the white cottage, “has got quite well.” “Oh, yes!—he walks and rides about as usual,” responded Mr. Games. “ Well, it would have been a great pity if the business had turned out other- wise. He is a very nice man, is Mr. Foley—a very nice man; and his wife is the most amiable of women. I do really believe she would have laid violent hands upon herself, or else have pined away, if ber husband had died.” “They are exceedingly attached to each other,” I remarked. “T never saw such an affectionate couple,” re- joined Games. “Even if they hadn’t behaved as liberally to me as they have done, I should still speak of them in the highest terms: but I have every additional reason to do so—fur they have treated me nobly. Why, would you believe it,” LNOOKS (C(O)