The Highwayman

The Highwayman

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Title: The Highwayman
Author: H.C. Bailey
Release Date: January, 2006 [EBook #9749] [Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] [This file was first posted on October 15, 2003]
Edition: 10
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
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THE HIGHWAYMAN
BY
H. C. BAILEY

CONTENTS
I. THE COMPLETE HERO
II. THE HOUSE OF WAVERTON
III. A MAN OF MANY WORLDS
IV. A GENTLEMAN'S PURSE
V. THE WORLD'S A MIRACLE
VI. HARRY IS NOT GRATEFUL
VII. GENEROSITY OF A FATHER
VIII. MISS LAMBOURNE LOOKS SIDEWAYS
IX. ANGER OF AN UNCLE
X. YOUNG BLOOD
XI. ABSENCE OF MR. WAVERTON
XII. IN HASTE
XIII. DISTRESS OF A MOTHER
XIV. SPECTATORS OF PARADISE
XV. MRS. BOYCE
XVI. THE AFFAIR OF SIR GEORGE
XVII. RETURN OF MR. WAVERTON
XVIII. HARRY IS DISMISSED
XIX. ALISON FINDS FRIENDS
XX. RETURN OF CAPTAIN McBEAN
XXI. CONSOLATIONS BY A FATHER
XXII. TWO'S COMPANY
XXIII. THE HOUSE IN KENSINGTON
XXIV. QUEEN ANNE IS DEAD
XXV. SAUVE QUI PEUT
XXVI. REVELATIONS
XXVII. VIRTUE IS ITS OWN REWARD
XXVIII. IN THE TAP
XXIX. ALISON KNEELS
XXX. EMOTIONS BY MR. WAVERTON
XXXI. CAPTAIN McBEAN TAKES HORSE
XXXII. PERPLEXITIES OF CAPTAIN McBEAN
XXXIII. REMORSE OF COLONEL BOYCE
XXXIV. HARRY WAKES UP

CHAPTER I
THE COMPLETE HERO
Harry Boyce addressed Queen Anne in glittering verse. She was not present. She had, however, no cause to regret that, for he was tramping the Great North Road at four miles by the hour--a pace far beyond the capacity of Her Majesty's legs; and his verses were Latin--a language not within the capacity of Her Majesty's mind. Her absence gave him no grief. In all his twenty-four years he could not remember being grieved by anyone's absence. His general content was never diminished at finding himself alone. He chose the Queen as the subject of his verses merely because he did not admire her. She appeared to him then, as to later generations, a woman ineffectual and without interest; a dull woman physically, mentally, and perhaps morally; just the woman upon whom it would be hardest to make an encomium of any splendour. So he was heartily ingenious over his alcaics, and relished them.
From this you may divine much that you have to know about the soul of Harry Boyce. It was more given to mockery than enthusiasms, apter to criticisms than devotion, not very gentle nor very kind, and so quite satisfied with itself and by itself. To be sure, it was yet only twenty-four.
You discover also other things less fundamental. He was something of a scholar, as scholarship was reckoned in those placid days. He had even some Greek--more than Mr. Pope and quite as much as Mr. Addison. His Latin verses would have brought him a fellowship at Merton if he had been willing to take Holy Orders, "I may take them indeed; but how believe they have been given me?" quoth he to the Warden with a tilt of one eyebrow. Whereat the Warden, aghast, wrote him off as a youth unreasonable, impracticable, and impish. Many others had the same opinion of Harry Boyce before the world was done with him. Few of them saw in his antics the uncertain spasms of too tender a conscience. But you must judge.
Of course he was poor. He could only boast a bob wig, a base thing, which, for all the show it made, might have been a man's own hair. He wore no sword. His hat lacked feather and lace. His coat and breeches were but black drugget, shiny at each corner of him and rusty everywhere. His stockings were worsted, and darned even on his excellent calves. His shoes had strings where buckles should have been, and mere black heels--and low heels at that. As you know, he could walk at a round pace with them--a preposterous, vulgar thing. There was nothing in him to give this poverty a romantical air. To be sure, he had admirable legs, but the rest was neither good nor bad. He was of the middle size and a wholesome complexion. You would look at him long and see