Hugh Gwyeth: A Roundhead CavalierDix, Beulah Marie
History
Hugh Gwyeth: A Roundhead Cavalier
Dix, Beulah Marie
Great Britain -- History -- Civil War, 1642-1649 -- Fiction
After breakfasting he wrapped his sodden cloak about him and plunged
resolutely out into the rain. The heavy mud stayed him with clogging his
shoes, but he was now somewhat seasoned for the march and managed to
keep up a pace that, though not of the fastest, was steady. So he came
at length through the afternoon drizzle to the town of Leicester, which
he loyally told himself was not the half as fine as his own old Warwick.
But none the less he made his lodging there that night, and he went to
bed hopefully; for the western clouds were showing a faint yellow streak
that promised better weather on the morrow.
Sure enough, when morning came the rain had ceased to fall, and though
the air was still heavy with mist there seemed a prospect the sun might
yet break through. Hugh took the highway in gay spirits, and plodding
along at a stouter pace than on the day before congratulated himself on
covering such a deal of ground. But by noon he came to a less flattering
estimate of himself; for, talking with an idler at a small tavern he had
entered to buy his dinner, he discovered he was now following the Fosse
not to Nottingham but to Newark. Thereat Hugh faced about to retrace his
steps, too vexed at his own stupidity to allow himself to stop for
dinner. His informant called after him some direction about a cross-way
to the Nottingham road, which he scarcely heeded at the moment; but
afterward, when he was out of the village, he remembered, and striking
across the fields came into a narrow road full of ruts and great
puddles.
At first Hugh splashed along recklessly, but presently, when a streak of
sunlight crept through the trees and turned the puddles bright, he let
his pace slacken and little by little brought himself back to a more
contented mood. After all, he could make up by steady walking what he
had lost, and in any case Nottingham was now less than two days’ journey
distant. He began whistling for content, then stopped, as a rustling in
the bushes ahead caught his ear. He saw the branches crackle outward,
and two men, bursting through, came swinging down the roadway to meet
him.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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