The Master of Appleby | Page 9

Richard Jennifer met me in the cool gray birthlight
of the new day at a turn in the river road not above a mile or two from
the rendezvous, and thence we jogged on together.
After the greetings, which, as you may like to know, were grateful
enough on my part, I would fain inquire how the baronet had taken his
second's defection; but of this Jennifer would say little. He had broken
with his principal, whether in anger or not I could only guess; and one
of Falconnet's brother officers, that younger of the twain who had cried
shame at the baronet's vile boast, was to serve in his stead.
It was such a daydawn as I have sometimes seen in the Carpathians;
cool and clear, but with that sweet dewy wetness in the lower air which
washes the over-night cobwebs from the brain, and is both meat and
drink to one who breathes it. On the left the road was overhung by the
bordering forest, and where the branches drooped lowest we brushed
the fragrance from the wild-grape bloom in passing. On the right the
river, late in flood, eddied softly; and sounds other than the murmuring
of the waters, the matin songs of the birds, and the dust-muffled
hoof-beats of our horses there were none. Peace, deep and abiding, was
the key-note of nature's morning hymn; and in all this sylvan byway
there was naught remindful of the fierce internecine warfare aflame in
all the countryside. Some rough forging of this thought I hammered out
for Jennifer as we rode along, and his laugh was not devoid of
bitterness.
"Old Mother Nature ruffles her feathers little enough for any teapot
tempest of ours," he said. "But speaking of the cruelties, we provincial
savages, as my Lord Cornwallis calls us, have no monopoly. The
post-riders from the south bring blood-curdling stories of Colonel
Tarleton's doings. 'Tis said he overtook some of Mr. Lincoln's
reinforcements come too late. They gave battle but faint-heartedly,

being all unready for an enemy, and presently threw down their arms
and begged for quarter--begged, and were cut down as they stood."
"Faugh!" said I. "That is but hangman's work. And yet in London I
heard that this same Colonel Tarleton was with Lord Howe in
Philadelphia and was made much of by the ladies."
Jennifer's laugh was neither mirthful nor pleasant.
"'Tis a weakness of the sex," he scoffed. "The women have a fondness
for a man with a dash of the brute in him."
I laughed also, but without bitterness.
"You say it feelingly. Do you speak by the book?"
"Aye, that I do. Now here is my lady Madge preaching peace and all
manner of patience to me in one breath, and upholding in the next this
baronet captain who, though I would have seconded him at a pinch, is
but a pattern of his brutal colonel."
I put two and two together.
"So Falconnet is on terms at Appleby Hundred, is he?"
"Oh, surely. Gilbert Stair keeps open house for any and all of the
winning hand, as I told you."
The thought of this unspoiled young maiden having aught to do with
such a thrice-accursed despoiler of women made my blood boil afresh;
and in the heat of it I let my secret slip, or rather some small part of it.
"Sir Francis had ever a sure hand with the women," I said; and then I
could have bitten my masterless tongue.
"So?" queried Jennifer. "Then this is not your first knowing of him?"
"No." So much I said and no more.

We rode on in silence for a little space, and then my youthling must
needs break out again in fresh beseechings.
"Tell me what you know of him, and what it was he said of Madge," he
entreated. "You can't deny me now, Jack."
"I can and shall. It matters not to you or to any what he is or has been."
"Why?"
"Because, as God gives me strength and skill, I shall presently run him
through, and so his account will be squared once for all with all
men--and all women, as well."
"God speed you," quoth my loyal ally. "I knew not your quarrel with
him was so bitter."
"It is to the death."
"So it seems. In that case, if by any accident he--"
I divined what he would say and broke in upon him.
"Nay, Dick; if he thrusts me out, you must not take up my quarrel. I
know not where you learned to twirl the steel, or how, but you may be
sure he would spit you like a trussed fowl in the first bout. I have seen
him kill a man who was reckoned the best short sword in my old
regiment of