II -IN WHICH MR.ARCHER IS INSTALLEDTHE chaise had been driven round to the front door;the courtyard lay all deserted,and only lit by a lantern set upon a window-sill.Through this Nance rapidly led the way,and began to ascend the swellings of the moor with a heart that somewhat fluttered in her bosom.She was not afraid,but in the course of these last passages with Lord Windermoor Mr.Archer had ascended to that pedestal on which her fancy waited to instal him.The reality,she felt,excelled her dreams,and this cold night walk was the first romantic incident in her experience.
It was the rule in these days to see gentlemen unsteady after dinner,yet Nance was both surprised and amused when her companion,who had spoken so soberly,began to stumble and waver by her side with the most airy divagations.Sometimes he would get so close to her that she must edge away;and at others lurch clear out of the track and plough among deep heather.His courtesy and gravity meanwhile remained unaltered.He asked her how far they had to go;whether the way lay all upon the moorland,and when he learned they had to pass a wood expressed his pleasure.'For,'said he,'I am passionately fond of trees.Trees and fair lawns,if you consider of it rightly,are the ornaments of nature,as palaces and fine approaches -'And here he stumbled into a patch of slough and nearly fell.The girl had hard work not to laugh,but at heart she was lost in admiration for one who talked so elegantly.
They had got to about a quarter of a mile from the 'Green Dragon,'and were near the summit of the rise,when a sudden rush of wheels arrested them.Turning and looking back,they saw the post-house,now much declined in brightness;and speeding away northward the two tremulous bright dots of my Lord Windermoor's chaise-lamps.Mr.Archer followed these yellow and unsteady stars until they dwindled into points and disappeared.
'There goes my only friend,'he said.'Death has cut off those that loved me,and change of fortune estranged my flatterers;and but for you,poor bankrupt,my life is as lonely as this moor.'
The tone of his voice affected both of them.They stood there on the side of the moor,and became thrillingly conscious of the void waste of the night,without a feature for the eye,and except for the fainting whisper of the carriage-wheels without a murmur for the ear.And instantly,like a mockery,there broke out,very far away,but clear and jolly,the note of the mail-guard's horn.'Over the hills' was his air.It rose to the two watchers on the moor with the most cheerful sentiment of human company and travel,and at the same time in and around the 'Green Dragon'it woke up a great bustle of lights running to and fro and clattering hoofs.Presently after,out of the darkness to southward,the mail grew near with a growing rumble.Its lamps were very large and bright,and threw their radiance forward in overlapping cones;the four cantering horses swarmed and steamed;the body of the coach followed like a great shadow;and this lit picture slid with a sort of ineffectual swiftness over the black field of night,and was eclipsed by the buildings of the 'Green Dragon.'
Mr.Archer turned abruptly and resumed his former walk;only that he was now more steady,kept better alongside his young conductor,and had fallen into a silence broken by sighs.
Nance waxed very pitiful over his fate,contrasting an imaginary past of courts and great society,and perhaps the King himself,with the tumbledown ruin in a wood to which she was now conducting him.
'You must try,sir,to keep your spirits up,'said she.'To be sure this is a great change for one like you;but who knows the future?'
Mr.Archer turned towards her in the darkness,and she could clearly perceive that he smiled upon her very kindly.'There spoke a sweet nature,'said he,'and I must thank you for these words.But I would not have you fancy that I regret the past for any happiness found in it,or that I fear the simplicity and hardship of the country.I am a man that has been much tossed about in life;now up,now down;and do you think that I shall not be able to support what you support -you who are kind,and therefore know how to feel pain;who are beautiful,and therefore hope;who are young,and therefore (or am I the more mistaken?)discontented?'
'Nay,sir,not that,at least,'said Nance;'not discontented.If I were to be discontented,how should Ilook those that have real sorrows in the face?I have faults enough,but not that fau
<and I have my merits too,for Ihave a good opinion of myself.But for beauty,I am not so simple but that I can tell a banter from a compliment.'
'Nay,nay,'said Mr.Archer,'I had half forgotten;grief is selfish,and I was thinking of myself and not of you,or Ihad never blurted out so bold a piece of praise.'Tis the best proof of my sincerity.But come,now,I would lay a wager you are no coward?'
'Indeed,sir,I am not more afraid than another,'said Nance.
'None of my blood are given to fear.'
'And you are honest?'he returned.
'I will answer for that,'said she.
'Well,then,to be brave,to be honest,to be kind,and to be contented,since you say you are so -is not that to fill up a great part of virtue?'
'I fear you are but a flatterer,'said Nance,but she did not say it clearly,for what with bewilderment and satisfaction,her heart was quite oppressed.
There could be no harm,certainly,in these grave compliments;but yet they charmed and frightened her,and to find favour,for reasons however obscure,in the eyes of this elegant,serious,and most unfortunate young gentleman,was a giddy elevation,was almost an apotheosis,for a country maid.
