Beauchamp; or, The Error.James, G. P. R. (George Payne Rainsford)
History
Beauchamp; or, The Error.
James, G. P. R. (George Payne Rainsford)
Great Britain -- History -- 18th century -- Fiction
turning fiercely round, he stretched out his arm, and a flash and
report followed, while a ball whistled past the horseman's cheek, went
through his hair, and grazed his hat.
"Missed, on my life," cried the horseman; "take that for your pains,
you clumsy hound." And he again struck him, though, on this occasion
the person's head was defended by his arm.
"H--l and d--n," cried the other, seizing his horse's bridle and
trying to force him back upon his haunches, but another blow, that
made him stagger again, showed him that the combat was not likely to
end in his favour, and darting past, he exclaimed, "Run, Wolf, run.
Harry is off!" And before our friend on the bay horse could strike
another blow at him, he had sprung upon the back of the beast that
stood near, and without waiting to put his feet into the stirrups,
galloped off as hard as he could go. In regard to the other two who
were wrestling, as we have said, in deadly strife, the game they were
playing had just reached a critical point, for the gentleman who had
come up, had contrived to get hold of the barrel of the pistol, and at
the very instant the other galloped away, the respectable person he
called Wolf received a straightforward blow in the face, which made
him stagger back, leaving his weapon in the hand of his opponent.
Finding that his only advantage was gone, he instantly darted round
the back of the carriage to make his escape up the other road.
"Jump down and stop him, post-boy," cried the horseman, pursuing him
at the same time without a moment's pause, but the post-boy's legs,
though cased in leather, seemed to be made of wood, if one might judge
by the stiff slowness with which they moved, and before he had got his
feet to the ground, and his whip deliberately laid over the horse's
back, the fugitive finding that the horseman had cut him off from the
road, caught the stem of a young ash, swung himself up to the top of
the bank, and disappeared amongst the trees.
"Hark, there is a carriage coming," said the horseman, addressing the
stranger, who had followed him as fast as two legs could follow four.
They both paused for an instant and listened, but to their surprise
the sound of rolling wheels, which they both distinctly heard,
diminished instead of increasing, and it became evident that some
vehicle was driving away from a spot at no great distance.
"That's droll," said the horseman, dismounting; "but we had better see
after the ladies, for I dare say they are frightened."
"No doubt they are," replied the other, in a mild and musical voice,
leading the way round the carriage again. "Do you know who they are?"
"Not I," answered the horseman, "don't you?"
"No, I am a stranger here," answered the other, approaching the side
of the carriage, to which the lady who had been dragged out had now
returned.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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