Cripplestraw shook his head. 'I notice yer modesty, Mr. Festus, in ****** light of things. But there never was, sir. You may depend upon it he's come. Thank God, my duty as a Local don't require me to go to the front, but only the valiant men like my master. Ah, if Boney could only see 'ee now, sir, he'd know too well there is nothing to be got from such a determined skilful officer but blows and musket-balls!'
'Yes, yes. Cripplestraw, if I ride off to Budmouth and meet 'em, all my training will be lost. No skill is required as a forlorn hope.'
'True; that's a point, sir. You would outshine 'em all, and be picked off at the very beginning as a too-dangerous brave man.'
'But if I stay here and urge on the faint-hearted ones, or get up into the turret-stair by that gateway, and pop at the invaders through the loophole, I shouldn't be so completely wasted, should I?'
'You would not, Mr. Derriman. But, as you was going to say next, the fire in yer veins won't let ye do that. You are valiant; very good. you don't want to husband yer valiance at home. The arg'ment is plain.'
'If my birth had been more obscure,' murmured the yeoman, 'and I had only been in the militia, for instance, or among the humble pikemen, so much wouldn't have been expected of me--of my fiery nature.
Cripplestraw, is there a drop of brandy to be got at in the house?
I don't feel very well.'
'Dear nephew,' said the old gentleman from above, whom neither of the others had as yet noticed, 'I haven't any spirits opened--so unfortunate. But there's a beautiful barrel of crab-apple cider in draught; and there's some cold tea from last night.'
'What, is he listening?' said Festus, staring up. 'Now I warrant how glad he is to see me forced to go--called out of bed without breakfast, and he quite safe, and sure to escape because he's an old man!--Cripplestraw, I like being in the yeomanry cavalry; but I wish I hadn't been in the ranks; I wish I had been only the surgeon, to stay in the rear while the bodies are brought back to him--I mean, I should have thrown my heart at such a time as this more into the labour of restoring wounded men and joining their shattered limbs together--u-u-ugh!--more than I can into causing the wounds--I am too humane, Cripplestraw, for the ranks!'
'Yes, yes,' said his companion, depressing his spirits to a kindred level. 'And yet, such is fate, that, instead of joining men's limbs together, you'll have to get your own joined--poor young sojer!--all through having such a warlike soul.'
'Yes,' murmured Festus, and paused. 'You can't think how strange I feel here, Cripplestraw,' he continued, laying his hand upon the centre buttons of his waistcoat. 'How I do wish I was only the surgeon!'
He slowly mounted, and Uncle Benjy, in the meantime, sang to himself as he looked on, 'TWEN-TY-THREE AND HALF FROM N.W. SIX-TEEN AND THREE-QUAR-TERS FROM N.E.'
'What's that old mummy singing?' said Festus savagely.
'Only a hymn for preservation from our enemies, dear nephew,' meekly replied the farmer, who had heard the remark. 'TWEN-TY-THREE AND HALF FROM N.W.'
Festus allowed his horse to move on a few paces, and then turned again, as if struck by a happy invention. 'Cripplestraw,' he began, with an artificial laugh, 'I am obliged to confess, after all--I must see her. 'Tisn't nature that makes me draw back--'tis love. I must go and look for her.'
'A woman, sir?'
'I didn't want to confess it; but 'tis a woman. Strange that I should be drawn so entirely against my natural wish to rush at 'em!'
Cripplestraw, seeing which way the wind blew, found it advisable to blow in harmony. 'Ah, now at last I see, sir. Spite that few men live that be worthy to command ye; spite that you could rush on, marshal the troops to victory, as I may say; but then--what of it? there's the unhappy fate of being smit with the eyes of a woman, and you are unmanned. Maister Derriman, who is himself, when he's got a woman round his neck like a millstone?'
'It is something like that.'
'I feel the case. Be you valiant?--I know, of course, the words being a matter of form--be you valiant, I ask. Yes, of course.
Then don't you waste it in the open field. Hoard it up, I say, sir, for a higher class of war--the defence of yer adorable lady. Think what you owe her at this terrible time. Now, Maister Derriman, once more I ask ye to cast off that first haughty wish to rush to Budmouth, and to go where your mis'ess is defenceless and alone.'
'I will, Cripplestraw, now you put it like that!'
'Thank ye, thank ye heartily, Maister Derriman. Go now and hide with her.'
'But can I. Now, hang flattery!--can a man hide without a stain?
Of course I would not hide in any mean sense; no, not I!'
'If you be in love, 'tis plain you may, since it is not your own life, but another's, that you are concerned for, and you only save your own because it can't be helped.'
''Tis true, Cripplestraw, in a sense. But will it be understood that way. Will they see it as a brave hiding?'
'Now, sir, if you had not been in love I own to ye that hiding would look queer, but being to save the tears, groans, fits, swowndings, and perhaps death of a comely young woman, yer principle is good; you honourably retreat because you be too gallant to advance. This sounds strange, ye may say, sir; but it is plain enough to less fiery minds.'
Festus did for a moment try to uncover his teeth in a natural smile, but it died away. 'Cripplestraw, you flatter me; or do you mean it?
Well, there's truth in it. I am more gallant in going to her than in marching to the shore. But we cannot be too careful about our good names, we soldiers. I must not be seen. I'm off.'
Cripplestraw opened the hurdle which closed the arch under the portico gateway, and Festus passed under, Uncle Benjamin singing, TWEN-TY-THREE AND A HALF FROM N.W. with a sort of sublime ecstasy, feeling, as Festus had observed, that his money was safe, and that the French would not personally molest an old man in such a ragged, mildewed coat as that he wore, which he had taken the precaution to borrow from a scarecrow in one of his fields for the purpose.
