The measure of Cynthia's resentment might be inferred from that of her endurance. The weary silent miles she trudged along must have called forth a great impetus from within, for without that stimulus the poor little creature must have drooped and flagged upon the dark road long ere she did. It was not until the birds began to chirp in the trees, and the grey face of the dawn began to speckle the darkness that she abated her defiant paces. But once she had begun to do so, the weakness grew rapidly upon her.

Presently she stumbled and nearly fell. Then it was I took the courage to venture on the first of my penitent advances. I lightly touched her shoulder to support her. Finding that she had not the strength, I hardly dare say the inclination, to resist, I took her at last by the arm, very tenderly at first, but then a little more firmly, and then more firmly still. Thus, without a word passing on the side of either, the sense of our comradeship was re-established. If I could not feel that I was forgiven, I might take the comfort to myself that I was suffered.

It soon grew apparent, now that the meridian of poor Cynthia's wrath was overpast, that the child would have to pay the price of it. She became a very weight in my arms, and with the first beams of daylight was ready to faint with fatigue. In the reaction of her mood she yielded herself to my will as readily and completely as ever. Therefore, to spare her as much as I could, I seized the first occasion to give her a place of rest.

In the little light there were no houses to be seen, and even had there been, it was too early to hope to gain sanctuary in them. There was a wood, however, close at hand, whither I partly led and partly carried her. Within its warm and dry recesses, I selected a couch of green earth for her underneath a great tree, whose rough bark made something of a pillow for her head. First, I took off my great-coat and spread it on the ground as comfortably as I could, placed her upon it, and then divesting myself of my thick, rough jacket wrapped her snugly in it. The poor child was no sooner fixed in a position of some little comfort than she fell fast asleep.

While she was very mercifully occupied thus, I spent several hours in pacing up and down the glades of the wood to keep myself warm, for, after all, in the air of the dawn, the sleeves of one's shirt are no very adequate protection. To diversify this occupation I hunted an occasional squirrel, but with no prospect of catching one; and lay in wait, stone in hand, for many a white-tailed rabbit, but did so in vain. Indeed, the only good fortune that fell to me in these nefarious pursuits was the discovery of a bird's-nest with several fine eggs in it. But somehow I had not the heart to disturb those exquisite things; it may have been, especially as a small piece of sentiment may not come amiss even to the sworn enemies of it on an occasion of this kind, that the distrest birds and the distrest Cynthia had something in common.

Any lingering fumes of wine being long since out of my head, thanks to the operations of the wholesome open air, I grew conscious of a very distinct craving for food about eight of the clock. It was then that the thought of the generous Mr. Fielding's guinea proved such a source of solid comfort. One must be a vagrant by the wayside, dependent on chance for one's crusts of bread, to experience what the contemplation of twenty-one shillings sterling means, when that contemplation is sharpened and assisted by a biting hunger. In the days of my material greatness, not my houses, lands, revenues, not all my precious possessions had the power to bestow upon me that inexpressible sense of delightful anticipation which Mr. Fielding's guinea was able to do. A whole guinea to a desperately hungry mortal who for two days had begged his bread! What would it not purchase? How much sheer honest feeding did it represent! It would permit of delicate feeding, too, for Cynthia. A fine lusty mutton-pasty for the earl; and a bowl of cream-covered milk, flanked with the whitest bread and the purest butter, for his countess.

Cynthia still slept so soundly that I could not find it in my heart to rouse her. Quite a long time I debated within myself whether to leave her thus whilst I betook myself to the nearest house in quest of food. At last, as she showed no signs of waking yet, I determined to do so. Fixing the spot with particular care in my mind where she lay, I went off briskly on my errand. Happily a farm-house of goodly size was but a little distant; and here, by the aid of the magic guinea, was I accommodated, though, to be sure, without any special degree of favour. And at least my appearance could not be said to merit it. I was without my coat, my clothes were coarse, and the worse for travel, I still bore a black eye, and the small wound at the side of my head was still rendered visible by the blood that had dried about it. But as I had promised myself I got a draught of most excellent ale, a mutton-pasty too, which I bore along with me to eat at my leisure; whilst I procured for Cynthia a jug of warm milk, and fresh butter spread on some dainty slices of bread.

As soon as I returned to the place where Cynthia lay, she awoke, wonderfully refreshed and with no trace of the distresses of the previous night about her. She gave expression to her delight when I proudly produced her breakfast; whereon I redonned my coat. And no sooner did she observe the use to which it had been put, than she upbraided me for discarding it. Seating myself beside her, we made a perfectly admirable meal, but perhaps it was not after all our keen hunger that made the best sauce to it, but rather the fact that we were both in our natural minds again, and that our differences were forgotten. All the same, I devoutly hoped that my dear Cynthia would not pause to inquire from what source the royal breakfast sprang. I had no wish, you may be sure, to associate it with Mr. Fielding, however black the ingratitude. Happily the question was not asked.

When we had made our meal in this happy fashion, we repaired to the farm-house from which it had been obtained, to crave permission to perform our ablutions. By paying for the same, we were able to make them in some comfort. Like the arrant spendthrifts that we were, money was no object to us so long as our fortune lasted. This accomplished, we set off again wonderfully refreshed in mind and body. It was a sweetly fair spring morning, that made us step forth blithely. It takes a very old and hardened cynic to resist nature at her vernal period. And I think our reconciliation added to our happiness, although not once did we allude to the unlucky events of the night before. But we exhibited such a fine consideration for one another now, and were so scrupulous of every little detail of our demeanour one towards the other, as plainly showed that the articles of peace were being heartily subscribed to by us both. All the way it was, "Let me carry thy coat, my pretty one," or "Darling, walk this side of me in the shade lest the sun should overpower you," or "I do hope this bright sunshine will not affect your poor, broken pate."

Sedulously avoiding all places of any size, lest our enemies should be lurking in them, we selected a modest roadside inn, in which to rest at mid-day, having left, I think, the town of Guildford some two miles to our right. Here we ate and drank again with a degree of comfort that, considering our low estate, was quite luxurious. So discreetly had we ordered the reckoning too, that there would be means enough left to us to furnish us with supper and a bed at some similar unpretentious inn when evening came. You may believe me, or believe me not, but merely to think of sleeping once again on a bed of feathers, after having passed the best part of the two previous nights and days afoot, was almost a distracting pleasure. I suppose a beggar's happiness consists solely in his belly and his bones; and even if it is not of the highest kind, what can be so intimate and full of zest?

The evening came without any adventure worthy to be recorded. We still kept well off the beaten tracks and were therefore so happy as not to encounter runners from Bow Street, indignant parents, nor scheming rivals. The inn we selected was an ungenteel one enough in a remote village; and that night we supped and lay in it in conscious state, and royally spent the last of Mr. Fielding's guinea on a breakfast the following morning. It was wanton in us, I dare say, to spend such a sum in a fashion so prodigal, but as yet our extremity had taught us no measure of prudence. Besides, when we had not the wherewithal, were we not imbued with the excitements of those hunters who pursue for their needs? It is an incomparable kind of sport to seek for food and lodging with devil a farthing to purchase it.

With every penny of our late fortune squandered, we were again reduced to this employ. It was then I bethought me of the gypsy's flute. I bore it still in the pocket of my cloak; and had improvised several melodies already upon it to cheer our lonely way. Thus, when we came to a village about noon, wanting refreshment and even a penny to furnish it, I boldly took forth the instrument and blew it for all I was worth as we walked slowly along the principal street. Probably my notes were lustier and in better tune than is ordinary with others of this profession; or again, even an itinerant musician may have been a strange bird in this out-of-the-way place; for be it known that when Cynthia holding my hat in her hand sweetly importuned every staring yokel and every opened window with her daintiest smile and her gracefullest curtesy, we had acquired the sum of fourpence, mostly in halfpence, by the time we had come to the village alehouse. Thither we repaired to invest this reward of our toil in as good a repast of bread and cheese and ale as could be obtained for the money. We seasoned it by a fine argument as to whom the credit of it belonged. I vowed it was my fine playing that was alone responsible for it; whilst Cynthia was equally firm in her conviction that it was entirely due to the elegance of her solicitations.

We were mightily pleased with a prospect that offered a new source of revenue. But ere long we were doomed to discover that it was not fair as we had supposed, and that it had its drawbacks. This melancholy incident happened the very next time we put it in practice. The scene of it was a somewhat larger village than the first, and we attracted such an amount of attention that I believe Cynthia collected as much as sevenpence in a very little while. And so encouraged were we by the amount of favour with which we were received that we were emboldened to give a kind of set performance in front of the village ale-house. It had even been decided that Cynthia should sing a love ballad, for she had a very sweet voice and was prettily accomplished in the use of it.

Everything prospered with us admirably well for some time. An audience gathered about us; and although a little inclined to be abashed at first, we overcame those feelings very soon and gave our singing and music with great spirit. But just before we had come to the conclusion of the last piece, the throng was invaded by several stalwart fellows, amongst whom were the beadle of the parish and the squire of the place, both highly indignant to be sure. The latter was red and fat and full of choler.

"Take 'em both, Thomas," says he, wonderfully angry and stern, "and they shall be clapt into the stocks, sink me so they shall. The idea of two vagrant wretches daring to affront me thus under my very nose. There shall be no playing of profane tricks and loud music in this parish, curse me if there shall be."

Meanwhile the beadle, in the exercise of his authority, had twice set his dirty hands on my coat, and twice had I gently but firmly removed them.

"I will venture to say we are doing no harm to any one, sir," says I to the squire, controlling my resentment as well as I could, and striving to ape a humility I did not feel. "And surely, sir, you will not be too hard on poor people."

This fellow, however, was plainly of that tribe that loves to exult over the weak. It was his pleasure to display a greater and more despotic authority the less occasion there was for its exercise. The meeker he found us the more unbending was his indignation.

"How dare you venture to address me, you wandering vagabond?" says he. "Your damnable impertinence does but aggravate your offence. I will see whether you will defy me, I will so. You shall go to the stocks at once, and you may bless your fortune it is not the house of correction."

It needed but a glance to assure us that to resist would be vain. Not only the beadle, but several other persons under the immediate eye of this despot, were but too ready to curry favour with him by doing his bidding. In fact, one and all of those present seemed to conceive a mighty admiration of his rage. They felt such a display of anger and unfettered will to be sublime. Therefore, we were pushed and hustled with many unnecessary indignities, all the throng following to the village green, and were set side by side in the stocks forthwith. When we had been duly affixed in this place of humiliation, the squire made us quite a lengthy harangue, not so much I suspect for our edification as for the glory of himself. His anger against us inoffensive creatures who answered him not a word, mounted higher and higher till it grew truly magnificent. He stamped and raved and swore; he had a mind to do this, and a mind to do that, and 'fore God he would if it were not for the abominable leniency of his character. The beadle kept nodding his head, and fretted himself into a kind of ecstasy of admiration of the squire's remarks; whilst the villagers could be heard to say to one another: "Lord, an't squire noble angry-like to be sure." But neither of us retorted on the fellow by so much as a word, and I think we were well advised not to do so, for had we but unbosomed ourselves of a very small part of what was in our hearts he might have had a real grievance to set against us.

Therefore we both regarded him in silence, and strove to maintain a demeanour of the coldest disdain. It was not very easy, to be sure, in that posture, with jeers and humiliation besetting us on every side. Yet we persevered in it so well that presently it did not fail in its effect. For our persecutor was such a poltroon at heart that although we were secured and quite at his mercy, he no sooner observed that we scorned him, than the torrent of his eloquence grew sensibly less. So long as we were humble and appeared to shrink and tremble before him, his rage knew no bounds. But the moment we called in a little disdain to our aid, he grew less certain of himself, and was so baffled and held in check by it, that at last he bethought himself that he would best serve his dignity by taking himself off. His parasite the beadle went with him, but a considerable number of the yokels stayed to keep us company. Their disposition was to make sport of our misfortune. But how true is that old saw – so the master, so the man.

For with a good deal of difficulty, as you may guess, we managed to preserve an appearance of mighty dignified unconcern, however far we might be from feeling it, and contrived to converse one with another in a perfectly natural and amiable manner, for all the world as though we were not sitting in the stocks at all, but in the village alehouse. In the face of such a fine contempt the spectators were just as much at a loss as ever the squire had been. They were there to bully and bait us, but under our unwavering eyes had not the courage to do so. Indeed it seemed to involve such a degree of initiative on their part to kick two persons who after all were not thoroughly and effectually knocked down, that one by one they followed the example of the squire and slunk away.

When the best part of these idle and mischievous persons had departed, and our admirers were diminished to about a score of the village urchins who were not to be so easily daunted, says I to my little companion, who to be sure had been wonderfully steadfast through all our misfortunes:

"I think, your ladyship, we shall best forget the distresses of our present situation by arrogating to ourselves the grandeur of our former state. How was the dear queen when you saw her last? Had she quite recovered of her whooping-cough?"

"Oh yes, I thank your lordship," says Cynthia glibly. "But surely your lordship was at the levée last Tuesday month?"

"No, rat me if I was," says I, with a languid air. "The fact of the matter is, I have not the taste for these routs and drums and crushes and assemblies. My father, the late lord, I have heard boast that he never missed above three in thirty years. But I think your ladyship will be the first to own that in these days the haut ton is not so vastly energetic as it once was. For myself, I would be the first to confess that the practices and observances of the genteel and polite world weary me to distraction. I never get into my Court suit but what I die of fatigue in the operation!"

"His Grace of Middlesex I have heard speak to the same tenor," says Cynthia; "and often enough have I heard her grace the duchess reprove it in him."

"I think," says I, "it was a fashion that first obtruded itself in the Prince of Wales."

"Ah, the dear prince!" says she. "How like his poor dear Royal Highness it is, to be sure! I hope your lordship was not with him at that particular drawing-room where he took off so many of the gentlemen to play a game at basset or hazard or what not in the antechamber."

"Primero, your ladyship," says I gravely.

It was in this edifying fashion that we supported ourselves in our present trials. Our conversation was carried to the very heights of the genteel, and was chiefly concerned with the Royal Family. We mentioned nobody under a peer, and contrived to bring in those great persons in a highly inept and fashionable manner. Had any one heard our conversation they must have marvelled to know how two people so vastly polite and who moved in such exalted circles could ever have come in that place. The smack of humour in the thing was undeniable, but I am not sure that we did not retail those details, anecdotes, and reminiscences in the mincing, clipping tone of St. James's as much for a vindication of ourselves and a salve for our wounded feelings as for the whimsicality of the occupation.

We were still beguiling the time in this way when the beadle came to release us. In the performance of this office he gave us a great deal of advice that we could very well have dispensed with. He was also charged with a message from the squire as to how much more serious the consequences would be if either of us were caught in those parts again. Having at last obtained our freedom, we were not long in shaking the dust of this unlucky parish off our feet.

As we went away we were a good deal disconcerted by the turn our affairs were taking. It was already growing dark, and sensibly colder, and worse, it was coming on to rain. And we had but a matter of sevenpence to provide us with the supper that we should soon be greatly in need of, and a protection from the night's inclemency. To have had recourse to the flute once more, and I gravely doubt after what had happened whether we should have had the stomach to have done so, would not have served us. We were a long way from the next village, and the evening had already come.

CHAPTER XVI
WE ARE SO SORELY TRIED THAT WE FAIN HAVE RECOURSE TO OUR WITS

Hand-in-hand we trudged along valiantly. The rain came, at first a thin, hesitating haze, then with a quicker patter and a brisker resolution, which presently settled into a steady sullen all-night down-pour. We were very well shod, happily, and we drew our cloaks tightly about us, and turned our faces to the deluge. To pass the night in the open air in weather of this sort was impossible, but we were like to be in the predicament of that first evening out of London. Once more were we wholly ignorant of the way, were in great discomfort of body, and had no wherewithal by which we could relieve it. We were again called on to endure all the discomforts inseparable from our lot. The only sound from the great darkness that covered the land was the squish of the water under our feet, and the ceaseless twitter of the rain on the road. Although our clothes were a steaming burden, and clung about us in a sop, we tried not to be daunted. We pursued our way through mud and puddles, resisting the hunger and weariness that crept so insidiously upon us. And whatever the outward conditions of our state I don't think we minded greatly. The example of one another kept us from flagging, even as the possession of one another kept us from complaining.

At last, having dragged our weary limbs up a steep hill, and having crested the brow, we saw all at once quite a number of lights gleaming below in the valley. It was plainly a considerable place, to judge by them; and though it was in our best interests to keep away from all towns and villages of any size and importance, on this occasion we did not pay much heed to these scruples, but went boldly and gladly towards it.

"But what shall we profit when we get there?" says Cynthia. "We have but a matter of sevenpence between us, which will avail us little enough for food and a lodging. And I am sure there will be nobody to be found who will extend their charity to such a pair of drenched beggars as we are. Oh, what can we possibly do!"

I pondered on this hard problem for a full minute. Cynthia's gloomy views were hopelessly right. We were indeed a pair of beggars, homeless and destitute. But we could not walk about all through that wretched wet night on the open road. We must find some asylum for our weariness, if only a cow-hovel as it had been formerly. This night, however, put us in no mind for that kind of thing. We longed for the luxuries of a bright fire at which to dry our clothes, a warm supper at which to defeat the dismal weather, and a snug bed afterwards. But how could we make sevenpence go so far? Beat my brains as I might, I could find no solution to this hard problem. Yet we both yearned for these comforts so keenly, that at last we came to the resolve that we would obtain them by hook or by crook, if not by fair means, by those more desperate, and be hanged to the consequences! Accordingly, when we arrived at the first house in the place, I thrilled Cynthia by boldly knocking on the door, and thrilled her further by more boldly asking the title of the principal inn. As it bore the promising name of the Angel, and was less than half-a-mile along that very road, and was said to be a remarkably good inn, we were encouraged to push on in search of it.

"Oh, Jack," says poor Cynthia nervously, "whatever will the consequences be? It must be quite a public place; the landlord will certainly ask to see our money before he serves us, such a poor vagrant pair must we seem in the eyes of everybody; some of those horrid Bow Street runners may be there too, or possibly my father. And if we take that for which we are unable to pay, we may get sent to prison, or – "

"Put in the stocks," says I.

Cynthia shuddered, and then laughed a little.

"I don't think," says she, "we shall ever fear that indignity again. At least we came triumphantly through that ordeal."

"Merely by being bold," says I, "and the exercise of our sense of mirth. And that is what will be demanded of us in the adventure that is before us. Let us play our parts as bravely here, and I am convinced that we shall come out of it just as successfully. Let us be bold and take our courage in our hands, and I'll answer for it we'll get a supper, a fire, a bottle, and a bed, and no questions asked. But only a sufficient hardihood can do it, do you understand? We must not bear ourselves as a pair of beggars at this inn, but rather as persons of consideration and great place. You must be daughter to the duke, my prettiness, and I will be a devil of a peer."

"That is all very fine, Jack," says Cynthia, who on occasion could be very shrewd, "but how are we to reconcile our lost and destitute state with our exalted degree?

"A most happy idea," says I, suddenly seized with the same. "I have it exactly. We must be a pair of travellers who have been set on by a highwayman, turned out of our carriage, and robbed of all our money and valuables."

"Yes," urged Cynthia, "but what carriage can we have to show?"

"We can provide for that too," says I, in the throes of invention. "Our servants were so affrighted at the highwayman's appearance, that they made off pell-mell, carriage and all, without once stopping to look behind them."

"A not very plausible story," urged Cynthia again.

"I agree with you there," says I, "but we must strengthen any defects in our tale by the vigour and sincerity of its narration. We must play our parts at the very height of our ability, and the landlord, whoever he is, shall be put to it very hard to catch us tripping. A bold demeanour and a loud voice go a long way in these days. I can smell that supper already, and I feel my feet to be toasting before the warm blaze. And here we are to be sure under the very sign of the house, as goodly a country hostel i'faith as I ever saw, at which to arrive on a pouring wet night."

Forsooth we were already come to the door. By its substantial, well-lit, comfortable look, and the space in front of it, it had the appearance of a coaching inn. And for that matter it did not call for much observation to prove such to be the case. It stood at the junction of four roads. The one that had carried us thither was a by-road, running at this point across one of the main coaching highways. When we discovered this to be the case we paused a moment. There was a degree of publicity about such a hostelry that we could have very well done without. We were certainly taking a great risk lest our enemies should enter it; and again, the charges were likely to be high. Yet it took only a brief reflection to decide us. We were utterly cold, hungry and jaded, our cloaks were soaked with rain, and the mud rose above our ankles. Therefore leaving discretion outside in the rain, we entered boldly.

The chamber we found ourselves in was in singular and delightful contrast to the conditions from which we had emerged. It was brightly lit, a rare wood fire crackled and sputtered on the hearth, and threw its shadows on the oaken panellings. An incomparable smell of cookery pervaded it, and a table was laid for supper. The whole apartment was spotlessly clean, replete with comfort, and altogether was a model of what such a room should be in an inn of the better sort.

The room had only one occupant; he, a gentleman who sat at his ease, waiting for his supper in a chair by the brisk fire. He was a wonderfully handsome man, young, bold-eyed, and with a look of gay impudence more winning than displeasing. He threw up his eyes as soon as we entered and frankly took our measure. He went over us from top to toe with the frank audacity of a pretty woman or a child. He was plainly a little puzzled by us. He could not reconcile our appearance with our address. We must indeed have looked to a stranger at that moment the most draggle-tailed couple that ever came out of Bridewell. But we had got all our best town airs about us too, and the contrast between our state and our address must have been ludicrous, truly.

We had hardly got in to the room ere the landlord came bustling forward. His mode of assessing the character of his guests was more peremptory. We were in a wretched plight, and had come afoot without baggage and unattended. He gave us one shrewd contemptuous glance and says:

"You are come to the wrong house, are you not, master? The Chequers, a bit further along the road to your left, is more in your style, I'm thinking. The quality comes to this house, dy'e see?"

"God bless my soul," I roared, "was there ever such effrontery! Why, you pot-bellied ruffian, I would knock you down as flat as your own ale were it not for fatigue and the presence of a lady. The wrong house, is it? Do you take us for a pair of pickers and stealers then, you beer-barrel! Call a chambermaid this minute and have her ladyship taken to the best bedroom you have got in the place, or I will rub my boots into the small of your fat back, upon mine honour so I will."

A less forcible method of address might have permitted of a controversy, in which we should have everything to lose and nothing whatever to gain. But this fine assault, this taking of the landlord by storm, completely disarmed him. In an instant his demeanour completely changed, as is usual with those of his kidney. From the contemptuous critic he was transformed into the grovelling lackey. On the instant he was ours to command. With many bows and congees he was soon inquiring what we would have for supper, and which wine we would prefer. He also presumed that our luggage and attendants would presently arrive.

"Devil a bit of it," says I. "Neither one nor the other will you see this night. Our wretched rogues have had such a fright that I will bet my leg they never draw rein until they make the blessed town o' London. A murrain upon them, and may they die of a vertigo!"

The landlord clasped his palms in a fine attitude of humility, curiosity and awe.

"Lord save us!" says he, "what can have happened to your lordship?"

"Why, something that is always happening to us, of course," says I, with a great air of a glib matter of fact. "One of these pestilential highwaymen stopped us and tried us on this very road, not five miles off. Cocked his ugly mug through the carriage-window as cool as a church, and had us step out of our cushions into the pouring rain. Took our money and jewels off us before you could say your prayers. And not content with all this, burn me for a heretick! if out of pure wantonness this villain did not discharge his barker across the nose of the leader, and away they flew downhill to the devil before we could jump in again. They are miles away ere this, and lord knows how we shall contrive to return to town."