Читать книгу Charles Peace, or The Adventures of a Notorious Burglar - Anonymous - Страница 70

While all these events had been taking place Charles Peace had paid frequent visits to the house and gardens in possession of the girl “Nelly,” for whom he had conceived a passionate fondness. He had become on tolerably familiar terms with her aunt, and had on more than one occasion flirted with her niece. Nelly did not dislike him, and, although she did not encourage his attentions, she did not positively reject them. To a certain extent she felt flattered by the court and homage paid to her. Her conduct, as far as our hero was concerned, was nothing more nor less than a bit of harmless coquetry.

With Peace it was far different. He hoped to win the girl; otherwise he would not have troubled himself so much about her, and it is likely enough that he would not have remained so long in the neighbourhood had it not been for her.

After the robbery at the “Lion,” and the chase of Bandy-legged Bill, Peace endeavoured to ascertain who threw the missile into his window on that eventful night.

He taxed several of the villagers with it, but they one and all denied in a most positive manner having given the timely warning.

It afterwards occurred to him that it might be Nelly, and he mentioned his suspicions to her.

She laughed, and after a little hesitation acknowledged that she was the culprit. She informed Peace that she was mistrustful of the gipsy, whom she had seen in her aunt’s strawberry ground with a strange gentleman, with whom he was conversing in almost a whisper. From the few words of the conversation that did reach her ears she was under the impression that a deep-laid plot was hatching; and afterwards, upon finding the gipsy had taken up his quarters at the “Carved Lion,” her suspicions were in a measure confirmed, hence it was that she had recourse to the little stratagem which was of such infinite service on the night of the attempted robbery.

“You are a good girl, and are worth your weight in gold,” cried Peace, when Nelly had concluded. “Indeed, I don’t know what I should do without you.” He placed his arm round her neck, and drew her towards him.

“There, get away, do!” exclaimed the girl, slipping out of his grasp. “I never knew a man so forward and impudent as you are.”

“And I never knew a girl so uncertain and capricious as you are,” returned he; “so now we are even. But I say, Nell, darling——” he was about to make an amorous speech, when the voice of the owner of the establishment was heard, and Nell said, quickly—

“There’s aunt calling me; I must indoors.”

“But I want to speak to you—​have something to say of the greatest importance.”

“Some other time will do as well,” she returned, with a laugh.

“Will you meet me to-morrow evening at the corner of Dennett’s-lane, and hear what I have to say?”

“Perhaps.”

“Nay, don’t say perhaps; you must come.”

“Very well; I will, if possible,” and with these words the girl ran down the gravel walk and entered the house.

It was in the evening of the day on which Aveline Gatliffe had paid a visit to the earl that Nelly had promised to be at the end of Dennett’s-lane.

Peace anxiously awaited her appearance.

He remained in his workshop silent and thoughtful.

He was calm, but it was that sort of calmness which presaged a storm.

To say the truth, he was getting tired of the quiet and respectable sort of life he had been of late leading. The old feeling of restlessness and yearning for adventure had come over him, and his mind was in a sort of chaos.

“Will she come?” he murmured, looking furtively down the lane, “or will she make some miserable excuse for stopping away when next I see her? She’s a riddle—​a mystery, which I find it difficult to make out.”

Another half hour passed away, but no Nelly. The sun had already sunk, and the shades of evening were beginning to descend.

He arose from his seat, passed out of his workshop, closed and locked the door, and again looked down the lane.

He beheld in the distance the figure of a woman. It was that of Nelly. His heart leaped with delight.

“You’re precious late, my lady,” said he, as she approached.

“Be I? Well, I couldn’t get away before. It beant no fault of mine if I be late. Now, then, what be ye a-going to tell me?”

“You shall learn all in good time,” cried he, putting her arm in his, and strolling along the narrow footway.

“You see, Nell, it’s time, I’m thinking, that I should be plain spoken. I find, my lass, that I care a deal more for you than I first imagined. You see, I don’t know how much longer I shall remain in this village—​not long, I expect. The fact is, I’ve grown so fond of you that I don’t like to leave—​nay, more, I don’t intend to leave until you give me an answer one way or the other.”

“An answer—​what about?”

“What do you suppose it’s about? Can’t you guess?”

“No.”

“Well, I’m sorry for you. Don’t I tell you that I’m attached to you—​that I love you?”

He drew her towards him, and covered her lips and face with burning and passionate kisses.

She was surprised and annoyed, made as much resistance as possible, and pushed him from her.

“What possesses the man,” she cried, “to be mawling a gal in this fashion? If I’d ha’ known of this, I wouldn’t ha’ come.”

“Now, Nell,” cried her companion, “why do you seek to tantalise me? You must know by this time my feelings with regard to yourself. Listen to me for a few moments. You know I’ve been doing a good stroke of business; I am greatly respected by all who know me. In addition to this I have been patronised and made much of by the Master of Broxbridge——”

“What has all this to do with me?”

“I am telling you these things to prove that I am worthy of you. I am well-to-do, and have every reason to suppose you care something about me.”

She laughed derisively at this last observation.

His countenance grew dark and wore a malignant expression, but by a violent effort he suppressed his passion for a while.

“And be this all you wanted to see me for?” she inquired.

“All!” he reiterated, “and enough too, I’m thinking. Now do be a little reasonable. Do you suppose I should have been dangling after you for so long a time for nothing? I tell you again and again, Nelly, that I doat on you.”

Here once more he threw his arms round his companion’s neck, and embraced her with passionate fervour.

“There, that will do. You certainly are the most daring man I ever came across. Have you anything more to say?” she enquired, in a coquettish manner.

“Yes, a deal more,” he returned. “I want to fix you firm and fast before I leave—​I want you to give me a promise.”

“What be that you want me to promise?”

“Not to have anything to say to any other chap when I am gone. You must consider yourself engaged to me.”

She made no reply, but looked thoughtfully on the ground on which they were walking.

Do you hear—​do you understand?” he inquired.

“Yes, I think I understand.”

“And you answer—”

“I aint a goin’ to mek any promise.”

“What!—​you refuse, then—​and why? Tell me why? Why don’t you answer? Do you want to drive me to madness, you cruel thoughtless girl?”

“I aint a goin’ to mek any promise, I dunno what other answer to mek.”

“I’ll take you up to London and you shall see all the fine sights, and be a fine lady,” he said in a wheedling tone. “Come, Nell, say you will be mine.”

“I won’t say nuffin’ o’ the sort, not at present.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know enough of you,” she answered with the greatest simplicity; “that’s one reason.”

“And the other?”

She made no answer.

“The other!” he shouted in a voice of thunder. “There is someone else in the case—​is that it?”

“I won’t answer you.”

“Then you have been making a fool of me all this time,” he cried, in a voice of concentrated passion. “You treacherous infamous girl; but I’ll let you know, my lady, that Charles Peace is not to be trampled upon with impunity—​understand that.”

He caught her by the wrist and held it with the grip of a vice.

“Let me go—​ye hurt me—​let me go!” she exclaimed in some alarm.

“Not till you give me the name of my rival. Until you do that I will not release you.”

He dragged her forcibly along the pathway, and displayed such an excess of fury that the girl was seriously alarmed.

“I must ha’ bin a born fool to ha’ come here, and I be rightly served. Let me go!”

“Answer my question first—​his name—​tell me the fellow’s name and I’ll then release you—​not before. You’ve played me false, and you know it.”

He had by this time become more like a maniac than a rational being.

Nell struggled desperately to release herself from his grasp, but although a strong-built muscular young woman she found herself almost powerless in the grip of her persecutor.

“Have I wasted all my thoughts all this time over one who is so base and worthless?” he ejaculated with supreme bitterness. “Am I to become the laughing stock of the whole neighbourhood?”

“I wish I’d never seen you. I hate you!” cried Nelly, in a spiteful tone. “What have I done to be treated thus?”

“One word and we are friends for life. Say you will be mine,” said he.

“I will say nothing till you let me go.”

“I’ll have your answer one way or the other,” shouted out Peace, drawing a revolver from his pocket. “By the heavens above, I will make you answer me.”

At the sight of the weapon the miserable young woman uttered several piercing screams.

A tall young man jumped over a neighbouring stile, and with one blow from the stout ash stick he carried struck the weapon out of Peace’s hand; then he delivered another terrific blow on our hero’s head, which sent him back reeling and half stunned.

“You cowardly scoundrel,” exclaimed the newcomer, “to lay your hands on a woman.”

The speaker was about to inflict further chastisement, whereupon Nelly interceded.

“Spare him, Mr. Jamblin,” said the girl. “He be mad, and knows not what he has been doing. He be mad, I’m sure o’ that.”

“What have you to say for yourself, sir? What is the reason for this outrage?” inquired the young man, addressing himself to Peace.

“What business is it of yours?” answered our hero. “There is a reason, and a very strong one. But, hark ye! Don’t you bully me, or it will be worse for you. I’m not afraid of you, big as you are.”

“I’ve seen your face before,” observed the newcomer. “It’s familiar to me.”

“Have you?” cried Peace, making a hideous grimace. “Then you’ve the advantage of me, for I never saw your ugly mug before; and what’s more, I don’t want to see it again.”

“Do you remember a burglary at Oakfield House, some time ago, eh?”

“No, I don’t. Do you?” inquired Peace, who was by this time a litle less confident in his tone and manner.

“Yes, I do. A man named Gregson was shot by a woman, and afterwards expiated his crimes on the public scaffold. If I mistake not, I met you on the night of the burglary. I’ve an astonishing power of remembering faces.”

“Have you? You’re a mighty clever fellow in your way; but it so happens that I never heard of any such burglary, and don’t know any house bearing that name. You seem to know more about it than I do. Were you one of the burglars?”

At this last observation the young man rushed forward and was about to strike Peace, when the girl, Nelly, threw herself between the two, and begged her protector to spare him.

“Say no more, Nell,” returned the young man. “I won’t harm him. Though for the life of me I can’t understand why you should seek to protect him.”

“Go your ways, you ugly little vagabond,” said the stranger, addressing Peace. “If you remain here much longer the chances are you will find yourself handed over to the police constable, who is coming this way.”

Peace in this instance considered discretion to be the better part of valour, and, hurling several anathemas at the girl and her protector, he made off.

He hastened at once to the house of the village surgeon, where he had his head dressed, declaring that he had received the wound in conflict with what he chose to term a ruffian.

He was by this time thoroughly sick of Broxbridge, which he determined upon leaving forthwith. He had been jilted and derided by a girl to whom he had become attached, had been chastised by a young man, who evidently knew all about the Oakfield House burglary, which he had believed had been quite forgotten, and so there was every reason for his leaving the neighbourhood. On the following morning he packed up his traps, had them conveyed to the station, and bidding Brickett good-bye, with a promise to return in a few weeks’ time, he beat a retreat, and hastened up to the metropolis, to find therein a new scene of action.