The Robber, A Tale.James, G. P. R. (George Payne Rainsford)
General
The Robber, A Tale.
James, G. P. R. (George Payne Rainsford)
England -- Social life and customs -- 17th century -- Fiction
After thus gazing for a few minutes, the leader of the party turned
towards the groom, and while he reined back his horse to the other side
of the road, said, with something of a sneer, "We will save old John
the porter the trouble of opening the gate for us." At the same moment,
the well-trained horse which he rode, feeling a touch of the spur,
started forward towards the wall, cleared it with ease, and horse and
rider stood within the boundaries of the park.
"I can't leap with my hands and legs tied!" cried the groom, whose
first feelings were those of an equestrian; "that's impossible; I shall
break my own neck and the horse's knees."
"You shan't be required to leap," was the reply of the leader, from the
other side of the wall; and then, turning towards one of his
companions, he added, "You must manage to pull it down, Harvey."
"I will leap it first, however!" replied his companion, and away went a
second horse and man over the wall. No sooner was this done than
several of the other horsemen dismounted, and with short bars of iron,
which each of them appeared to have slung at their saddle-bow, they set
to work upon the wall of the park, and in less than a quarter of an
hour the space of three yards was laid level between the road and the
park.
The whole of the troop then passed in, taking the groom along with
them; and, riding slowly up to a clump of old chestnuts at the distance
of about three hundred yards from the terrace on which the mansion
stood, they gathered themselves together in a group under the boughs,
and their leader, advancing a few steps, again gazed steadfastly upon
the Castle, whose towers and pinnacles were now to be more clearly
distinguished rising here and there above the trees, and marking, with
the straight lines of the older architecture, or the light tracery of
the more modern and ornamental parts, the sky beyond, over which a pale
gleam cast by the rising moon was just beginning to spread itself.
Gradually, as he sat there on horseback, the beautiful orb of night
rose up from behind the trees, and with her peculiar power of
dispersing the clouds and shadows that obstruct her way, she was seen
struggling with and overcoming the vapours of the night; sometimes,
like a veiled but still lovely countenance, beaming through a thin film
of white mist which grew radiant with her radiance; sometimes hidden
for a single instant behind a dark mass which swept over her with
gilded edges; sometimes bursting forth from a dark cloud, with pure
effulgence, like sudden joy succeeding despair.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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