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Show A WILD RIDE. It was in the year 18-. and the month was May, and the place was England. I had left London five days before, and now I was miles and miles away from it, in the very heart of the country, travelling toward a little town where I had business. It was an old-fashioned inn, and the people were kind and obliging. Travellers did not often stop at that inn, I suspect, for they were as particular about my meals as though I had been a prodigal son come home for the holidays. They killed the fatted chicken for me and made much of me altogether; and to crown all, as the train did not stop in time to take me on as I wanted to go, and as it was only a matter of five miles or so, what did the landlord do but hunt up a rusty old coach that was tucked away in the coach-house, and ordered his man to drive me over that evening. It wasn't an extra, mind you. It was sheer good-will. So I shook hands all around, and remembered the chambermaid and the waiter with half a crown each, and off I rode. It was getting dark fast, and the road wound away among the hills in a very romantic sort of a way; why, it made you think of ghosts, if you were a commercial traveller. "Here's the place," says I to myself, "where the old gentlemen of the road would like to have met me and my black bag fifty years ago. A hundred years ago, anyhow, I would not have felt as safe as I do now. Just then the coach came to a sudden pause. "Hallo," cried I out of the window, "what's the matter?" "It's more than I can tell, sir," said the man. "Black Jane has turned sulky; she won't move one step." With that he began to shout and crack his whip, I, with my head out of the window, watching him, when suddenly the beast started off like mad, and I drew in my face and saw I had company. While the coach was at a standstill a lady and gentleman had slipped in. They sat on the seat opposite me, and though it was an intrusion, I had not the heart to find fault, for a prettier pair I never saw in my life. If he was twenty-one years, it was just as much as he could be, and she was not seventeen. I have seen a pair of china lovers on the mantel piece the perfect image of what they were as pretty and dressed much the same. His hair was powdered, and hers, too. She had on a yellow silk, lower in the neck than I would like a daughter of mine to wear it, and her arms would have been bare only for her long kid gloves. She had pearls in her ears and on her throat, and she had just the most innocent face my two eyes ever rested upon. As for the boy, he had a chocolate velvet coat and white silk stockings, and lace ruffles at his wrists. And they had one large cloak-his, I fancy-cast about the two of them, though it drooped back a bit as they sat down. "Two young folks going to a fancy ball, perhaps," said I, "and just took a lift on the way." And I touched my cap to them, and says I, "Fine evening, sir." He did not answer me, but she looked at me and stretched out a little white hand. "Oh, sir," she said, "look out at the back of the coach, I pray you, and tell me if he is gaining on us." I looked out of the window. "There's a man on horseback riding up the road, said I, for I saw one. "O heavens!" said she. "Courage, Betty!" said the young fellow. "They shall never part us." Then I knew it was a runaway match. "I see how it is," cried I. "Keep up your heart, young man. If the young lady likes you she'll stick to you through thick and thin. I'll do my best to help you." "O heavens!" she cried again. "Oh my darling, I hear the horses' feet. There are more of them. Oh, sir, look; tell me." I looked and saw many armed horsemen following swiftly. "Closer to my heart, Betty," cried the young man. "My beloved, they come." He drew his sword. Among other things he wore a sword. I pulled my pistol from my pocket. We all stretched our heads forward, and at that moment the coach turned a rocky point of the road, and I saw we were on the margin of a precipice. All the time Black Jane had kept up her furious speed, and I saw we were in danger. "Have a care!" cried I. "Faster!" cried the young man. Suddenly there came a jolt, and a scream from the young lady. I heard him say, "At last we die together." And the coach lay flat on its side-not over the precipice, but on the edge of it. A man is a little stunned by a thing like that. When I climbed out of the window and helped old Anthony up with the coach, and coaxed Black Jane to quietness, I remembered that no one else got out of the vehicle, and I looked about in vain for my pretty lovers. They were not there, nor were there any signs of the troops of horsemen I had seen dashing up the hill. They could not have passed us in the narrow path by any possibility. "We ran a chance for our lives, master," said Anthony. "Yet I am called a good driver, and Black Jane is the kindest thing I ever saw in harness. Thank God for all his mercies. It's a strange thing we did not go over the cliff." "But where did they go?" I asked. "Who?" said Anthony. The two lovers-the pretty creatures in fancy dress. The people who were after them-where are they?" "Where-" began Anthony. Then he turned as pale as death. "All good angels over us!" he cried. "We have ridden with Lady Betty. It's the 10th of May. I might have known better than to try the road to-night. Protect us all. Yes, we've ridden with Lady Betty." "Who is Lady Betty?" said I. "As pretty a creature as ever I saw, at all events. Who is she?" Old Anthony stood looking at me and shaking his head. "It's an old story," he said. "Book-learned folks tell it better than I. But a hundred years ago and more, on this ?? night, my Lady Betty Hope, the prettiest lady, ran off from a country ball with her father's young secretary. "They put one cloak over their heads and an old servant drove them, knowing it was worth his life. "But before they had gone far, behind them came her kinsfolk, armed and ready for vengeance. And when they reached this point they saw that all was over. "‘Better die together than live apart.' he said, holding her close. Then he called out to the servant, ‘How goes it?' ‘All is lost, sir,' said the man. The horses can't hold up five minutes longer.' "‘Then drive over,' said he. "The man obeyed orders." "But ever since that night, sir, as sure as the 10th of May comes around there's plenty here that will tell you that whoever drives a coach past this road after nightfall won't ride alone. "There's nobody that remembered the night would do it for a kingdom, but I forgot. I'm getting old, and I forget things whiles; and so we've ridden with Lady Betty." That's the story old Anthony told me, and what went before is what I saw and heard. I'm a solid, sensible man, but facts are facts, and here you have ‘em.-Second Century. |