Griffith Gaunt; or, Jealousy: Volumes 1 to 3 (of 3)Reade, Charles
General
Griffith Gaunt; or, Jealousy: Volumes 1 to 3 (of 3)
Reade, Charles
Bigamy -- Fiction; English fiction -- 19th century
The next field was a deep fallow; and the hard furrows reduced her to a
trot; and before she got out of it, Tom was by her side: "Didn't I tell
you?" said he. "I'd run you to Peyton Hall for a pot o' beer."
"Oh you good, brave, clever boy," said Kate: "how fortunate I am to
have you. I think we shall be in time."
Tom was flattered. "Why you see I am none of Daddy Leicester's breed,"
said he. "I'm a gentleman's by-blow, if you know what that is."
"I can't say I do," said Kate; "but I know you are very bold and
handsome and swift of foot, and I know my patron saint has sent you to
me in my misery, and oh, my lad, if we are in time--what can I do for
you?--Are you fond of money, Tom?"
"That I be: when I can get it."
"Then you shall have all I have got in the world, if you get me there
in time to hinder mischief."
"Come on!" shouted Tom, excited in his turn; and took the lead, and not
a word more passed till they came to the foot of a long hill. Then said
Tom, "Once we are at top of this, they can't fight without our seeing
'em. That is Scutchemsee Nob: you can see ten miles all round from
there."
At this information Kate uttered an ejaculation and urged her horse
forward.
The first part of this hill, which stood between her and those whoso
tracks she followed, was grass; then came a strip of turnips; then on
the bleak top a broad piece of heather. She soon cantered over the
grass; and left Tom so far behind he could not quite catch her in the
turnips. She entered the heather, but here she was much retarded by
the snow drifts, and the ups and downs of the rough place. But she
struggled on bravely, still leading.
She fixed her eyes earnestly on the ridge, whence she could cry to the
combatants, however distant, and stop the combat.
Now as she straggled on, and Tom came after, panting a little for the
first time, suddenly there rose from the crest of the hill two columns
of smoke, and the next moment two sharp reports rang through the frosty
air.
Kate stopped; and looked round to Tom with a scared, inquiring air.
"Pistols!" yelled Tom behind her.
At that the woman overpowered the heroine, and Kate hid her face and
fell to trembling and wailing. Her wearied horse came down to a walk.
Presently up comes Tom. "Don't lose your stomach for that," he panted
out. "Gentlefolks do pop at one another all day sometimes, and no harm
done."
"Oh, bless you!" cried Kate; "I may yet be in time." She spurred her
horse on. He did his best, but ere he had gone twenty yards, he plunged
into a cavity hidden by the snow.
While he was floundering there crack went a single pistol, and the
smoke rose and drifted over the hill top.
"Who--op!" muttered Tom, with horrible sang-froid. "There's one done
for this time. Couldn't shoot back, ye see."
At this horrible explanation, Kate sank forward on her horse's mane
as if she herself had been killed; and the smoke from the pistol came
floating, thinner and thinner, and eddied high over her head.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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