University of Virginia Library

3. CHAPTER III.

In the meanwhile, Herman,—or Hyland Gilbert,
as he must now be called,—(so soon as he beheld
the maiden, wooed so wildly and vainly, fly to her
parent for refuge,) turned from the illuminated
path, and taking advantage of his previous knowledge
of the garden, soon succeeded in making his
way out of it, and, as he thought, without being
observed. He hurried through the park, torn by
a tempest of passions, and had almost reached the
gate, when he was suddenly roused by a tap on
the shoulder, which brought him to a stand. The
moon had set, and the light of the stars, breaking
through ragged clouds, was not sufficient to make
him acquainted with the visage of the intruder;
but the first word of the salutation that accompanied
the touch, told him he was now confronted
with his rival.

“An excellent good night to you, my fine hail-fellow-well-met!”
cried Harry Falconer; “you'll
be jogging, will you? A word in your ear: there's
star-light enough to be civil by, soft moist grass
for sleeping on, and, gad's my life, as good barren
clay at your feet as ever gentleman rotted under.
Now you may be surprised to hear it, but I have
the prettiest pair of pistols in my pocket that were

ever made for a lady's finger; somewhat dwarfish,
to be sure—but, egad, as good, at six paces, for
blowing one's brains out, as a battering piece at
point-blank distance. So douse kit, as the cobbler
says, and let's begin.—Harkee, sir, no skulking!
Don't put me to the painful necessity of calling
hard names. No sneaking!”

“You are a fool,” said Hyland, sternly. “If
you will renew your quarrel, come to me in the
morning.”

“By your leave, no,” said the lieutenant, laying
hand on his collar. “As to being a fool, adzooks,
as the Captain says, I am, or was, for supposing
you an honest, respectable sort of a vagabond
young man; whereas, on the contrary”—

“Remove your hand, or—Well, sir,” cried
the young Gilbert, “what will you have? Must
I cut your throat? Trust me, my fingers have
been itching to do it all day; and, at this moment,
they are hotter than ever. Begone, therefore,
while you may, and while the devil is yet behind
me. This is no time nor place for quarrelling.”

“The best in the world,” said the officer; “and
to end your scruples at once, know that I give you
choice only of two alternatives. Being a cursed
Hawk-Hollow Gilbert”—

“Hah!”

“You have a certain claim to the gallows; but
being also an exceedingly well-behaved, genteel,
handsome young dog, who have done me the honour
to court my sweetheart, you have an equal
claim to die in a gentlemanly way. So take your
choice—a pistol, six paces, and a shot at one-two-three;
or yield yourself a prisoner, and die by a
drum-head court-martial.”

“What if I say,—Neither?” replied Gilbert.
“Away, molest me not.” And he turned again to
depart, but was again arrested by the hot soldier.

“Oh, gad,” cried this worthy, “one thing you
must say.”

“Look you, Mr. Henry Falconer,” said Hyland,
with a trembling voice, “I have never yet harmed
a human creature, and I would not willingly hurt
even you, though I have a double cause to wish
you ill. Provoke me no farther. You have been
drinking, and are now beside yourself.”

“Never think it,” said the lieutenant, dropping
his tone of bagatelle, but speaking with characteristic
impetuosity. “You have presumed to
be impertinent to a certain lady, who shall be
nameless; for which reason I will forget that you
are a low and contemptible scoundrel, worthy
only”—

“Give me the pistol,” said Hyland, “and your
blood be on your own head. I will abide no more
from the son of your father.”

“Spoken like a man,” cried Falconer, instantly
stepping off six paces on the grass, and counting
them aloud as he stepped. Then turning, he added,
with a furious voice, as if giving way to his
passions, “Now, you rascal, prepare to fire as
soon as you hear me count three; and if I don't
teach you manners, you gallows dog, may I never
more smell gunpowder. Ready, you rogue! fire!
One,—two,—three!”

The instant the last word escaped his lips,
he fired his own pistol, and Hyland staggered
backwards, as if the shot had taken effect. Immediately
recovering himself, however, he cried, with
an agitated voice, “Let that satisfy you—I will not
hurt you,” and threw his own undischarged weapon
away. The act of generosity was not appreciated
by his rival, who, inflamed by a rage to
which he seemed now to have given himself up,
uttered an oath, and whipping out the sword he

always carried at his side, rushed upon him,
crying, “Villain, you don't escape me so easily!”

Thus attacked, and with a fury that seemed to
aim at nothing short of his life, Hyland, who was
entirely without arms, avoided the lunge aimed at
his heart, and immediately closing with his adversary,
they fell together to the ground.

In the meanwhile, the pistol-shot had reached
the ears of the captain of cavalry, and one or two
of the late banqueters, who were, at that moment,
making their way to Gilbert's Folly, in obedience
to a summons from Miss Falconer, which, although
meant only for her brother, the domestic entrusted
with it, had communicated, in his absence, to captain
Caliver. It found that worthy gentleman, as
well as all others present, somewhat incapable of
understanding it; but as it related to the Hawks of
the Hollow, and seemed to require the presence of
the lieutenant or his friends at the mansion, it was
obeyed by all, not even excepting the gallant
Ephraim; although, as it afterwards appeared,
this mysterious individual had, after setting out,
separated from the party, which was now but three
in number.

“By the eternal Jupiter!” cried Caliver, toiling
and stumbling up an ascent that led to the parkgate,
as the sudden explosion, followed immediately
after by angry voices, broke the solemn silence
of the night,—“by the eternal Jupiter, halt!—
there's the tories! They're beating up the old
cock's quarters!”

“Let us retreat,” cried one of his attendants,
“and get our horses.”

“Halt—hark!” exclaimed the solider, “there's
Harry Falconer's voice! the dogs are murdering
him! Prepare to charge, and hold your tongues.
—Now follow me, and I'll have a whole regiment
on them.—Halloo!” he cried at the top of his

voice, as if really calling upon a competent force
of both horse and foot; “Make bayonet work of
it, you light-infantry dogs! Horsemen, over the
fence, and surround the vagabonds!—No quarter!
—Double quick-step, march! Charge the villains!”
And with this valiant stratagem, the officer ran
boldly up the hill, followed by his two companions,
—though not until they had heard behind them, or
fancied they heard, the clatter as of a party of
horsemen descending the hill they had already
left.

As Caliver rushed into the park, he again heard
the voice of his friend, and rushing up, beheld, to
his great amazement, the band of tories dwindled
into a single individual, lying across Falconer's
breast, and in the very act of transfixing him with
his own weapon.

“By the eternal Jupiter! what means all this?”
he cried, dragging Hyland off his prey. “What!
my jolly gentleman-volunteer, hah! What means
this, you absurd young cut-throats?”

“It means,” cried Falconer, rising and darting
at his foe with unexampled fury, “that I've nabbed
a tory lieutenant, and I'll have his blood!”

He took his adversary at a disadvantage, for
Hyland was still held by the captain; and before
this bewildered peace-maker could interfere, the
combatants were again rolling together upon the
ground, only that their positions were reversed,
for Falconer was now uppermost, and armed with
Caliver's sword, which he had snatched out of the
captain's hand, not knowing, nor indeed caring,
what had become of his own.

At this juncture, a new feature was given to the
battle-field. “Enemies!” cried Caliver's two attendants;
and the cry was echoed by a fierce yell,
like the war-whoop of a savage, coming from the
gate, through which galloped they knew not how

many dusky figures, looking to the eyes of the
revellers like the fiends of darkness themselves.
The astounded captain, deserted in a moment by
his attendants, looked up, and beheld with still
greater amazement, the apparition, as it seemed,
of Ephraim Patch astride his gallant gray; only
that this impression was put to flight by the spectre
urging the steed right upon him, crying at the same
time in a voice of thunder, “Down with the rebel
dogs! trample them to death!” and the next moment,
the unlucky officer was struck to the ground
by the blow of a hoof, and there lay insensible.

“Victory!” cried the valiant rider, springing
from his steed, and cheering his companion (for he
had but one,) who was at that moment dashing
after the two volunteers. “Victory!” he exclaimed,
rushing towards the original combatants, and
immediately proceeding to knock young Falconer
on the head with the butt of a pistol, crying at the
same time to Hyland, whom he assisted to rise,
“Up, brother actor and Hawk of the Hollow,—
'my name is Harry Percy!' `The trumpet sounds
retreat, the day is ours!' ”

“Good God!” cried young Gilbert, bending over
his adversary, “you have killed him!”

“Quarter!” murmured the lieutenant, faintly,
“quarter, if you be Christian men!”

“Hell and furies!” cried Ephraim, thrusting the
pistol into his face, “you die, were you the king's
son!” and he would have killed the unlucky youth
on the spot, had it not been for Hyland, who dashed
the weapon out of his hand, exclaiming, “Touch
him not, on your peril!—What! can you stand?”
he added, addressing Falconer: “Away—you are
safe. You would have taken my life—I give you
yours. But, remember, Henry Falconer,” he whispered
in his ear, as he led him a little way, “remember
this: you are seeking Catherine Loring

against her will. If you persist, it were better for
you had you never been born. Away with you,
ere those come who will not be so merciful.”

The young officer, confused by the blow he had
received, and perhaps terrified by the appearance
of enemies so unexpected and of a character so
incomprehensible, stole away and concealed himself
among some neighbouring bushes. He heard
the crash of hoofs over the avenue, as if he who
had chased away the volunteers, were now returning
to his unknown companions, then a murmur
of voices, and finally a renewed sound of
horses' feet, whereby he perceived that the midnight
assailants had left the paddock. He then
crept from his concealment, and made his way
towards the mansion, to which, as was evident
from the flashing of lights in the windows and on
the porch, the alarm had been already communicated.