Every reason had he to arrive at the contrary conclusion. He had ascertained that his antagonist was a stranger to the family; introduced to Marion scarce an hour before the combat: and not speaking to her afterwards.

Thus in his own mind would Scarthe have disposed of the circ.u.mstance of the two gloves, deeming it an accidental coincidence.

But then there was the interview in the park--that interview of which he had been a witness. Could _it_ have been accidental? Or for some other purpose than that of a love meeting?

There was but little probability in these conjectures. For all that the jealous Scarthe, under the influence of the wine, earnestly indulged in them, until he began to feel a sort of hope of their being true. It was but for a moment--short and evanescent--and again did his mind relapse into a doubting condition.

Henry Holtspur had, by this time, become the _bete noire_ of his existence--against whom his bitterest hostility was henceforth to be directed. He had already taken some steps to inform himself of the position and character of his rival; but in this he had met with only slight success. A mystery surrounded the movements of the _black horseman_; and all that Scarthe could learn in relation to him was: that he was a gentleman of independent means, who had lately taken up his residence in the neighbourhood--his domicile being an old mansion known by the quaint appellation of "Stone Dean."

Scarthe ascertained, also, that Holtspur was a stranger to most, if not all, the distinguished families of the neighbourhood; though it was believed that he a.s.sociated with others at a greater distance; and that he had hitherto stood aloof from those near him, not from any want of the opportunity of being introduced, but rather from the absence, on his part, of the inclination.

It was rumoured that he had spent a portion of his life in the colonies of America; and the fact that he was occasionally seen accompanied by a young Indian, in the capacity of body-servant, gave confirmation to the rumour.

Scarthe had learnt nothing more in relation to his conqueror--excepting that two men of the neighbourhood were occasionally employed by him in matters of service. These were a woodman of the name of Dancey, and another of the like ilk--a younger man, called Walford.

The cuira.s.sier captain had not taken the trouble to collect this information without some glimmering of a design; though, as yet, he saw not very clearly in what way he could benefit by the knowledge. In fact, Captain Scarthe had never in his life felt more powerless, to rid himself of a rival who had so rudely crossed his path.

To challenge his late antagonist, and fight him again, was not to be thought of--after such a termination to the first combat. The life of Scarthe had been conceded to him; and the laws of honour would have precluded him from seeking a second affair--had he been so inclined.

But the touch of the cavalier's steel had taught him its sharp quality; and he had not the slightest inclination to tempt it again. Though yearning fiercely for vengeance, he had no thought of seeking it in that way; and in what fashion he was to find it, he had as yet conceived no distinct idea.

The _seance_ with his own thoughts had been protracted for more than an hour; and the cloud that still sate upon his brooding brow betokened that it had been unsuccessful. The wine, quaffed spasmodically, had been quaffed in vain. His vengeance, even so stimulated, had failed to suggest a scheme for its satisfaction.

At length an idea seemed to occur to him, that called for the presence of some second personage. He rose to his feet; and, striding to the door, pa.s.sed rapidly out of the room.

In a few seconds he re-entered, followed by one of his troopers--a young fellow, whose countenance might have appeared pleasing enough, but for an expression of softness, almost silliness, that marked it.

"Well, Withers?" inquired the officer, as soon as the two had got fairly within the room, "have you seen the two woodmen?"

"Only one, captain. The old one, Dancey, han't come home yet; but his daughter said she was expectin' him the night."

"And the other?"

"Wull Walford. Yes, captain, I seen him; and delivered your message."

"Well; he's coming to see me, is he not?"

"I'm afeard not, captain."

"Why not?"

"He's a queery sort, is Wull Walford. I knew him 'fore I left the county to list in the troops. He's a ill-tempered cur; that's what _he_ is."

"But why should he show temper with me? He don't know, but that I may intend kindness to him?"

"After what's happened he's afeard to see you, captain. That's why I think he won't come."

"After what's happened! And what _has_ happened? You mystify me, my man!"

"I mean, captain, the little affair as occurred between you and him--in the old camp over there."

"Between me, and him? Who are you talking of, Withers? Not the 'black horseman,' as the rustics call this--"

"No, captain; Wull Walford, I mean."

"And pray what has occurred between Master _Wull_ Walford and myself? I remember no individual of the name."

"You remember Robin Hood, captain--he as had the audacity to strike at your honour with his bow?"

"O-o-h! that's the difficulty, is it. So-so--" continued Scarthe, in a half-soliloquy. "Wull Walford of Wapsey's Wood, and the bold outlaw of Sherwood Forest, are identical individuals, are they? No wonder the fellow has some scruples about seeing me again. Ha! ha! I dare say I shall be able to overcome them. A crown or two will no doubt suffice to satisfy Master Walford, for what he may have considered a slight to his sweetheart; and, as to the blow over my own crown, I can the more easily pardon that, since I believe he broke the stock of his weapon in dealing it. So, Robin Hood it is. Well! if I'm not mistaken, he and I may be fast friends yet. At all events, from what I observed on that occasion, he is not likely to be on the friendliest terms with my enemy.

Withers!"

"Captain!" said the trooper, making a fresh salute to his officer, as if in the expectation of receiving some order.

"I shall want you to guide me to the domicile of this Walford. I suppose he has a house somewhere; or does he, like his prototype, roam anywhere and everywhere, and sleep under the shadow of the greenwood tree?"

"He lives in a poor sort o' cottage, captain--not very far from that of d.i.c.k Dancey."

"Then we may visit both at once; and, as the older woodman is expected to return home to-night, I shall not go until to-morrow. How far is it to this Wapsey's Wood?"

"Scant two miles, captain. It's up the road in the direction of Beaconsfield."

"Enough. I shall go on horseback. After morning parade, see that you have the grey horse saddled, and your own as well. Now, be off to your quarters, and say nothing to any of your comrades what duty you are going on--nor to any of your country acquaintances neither--else you may get yourself in trouble. Go!"

The trooper, making a salute, expressive of a.s.sent to the caution thus delivered, betook himself from the presence of his commanding officer.

"He's but a silly fellow, this Withers," muttered the latter, as the soldier had gone out of hearing. "Not the man for my purpose. His knowledge of the neighbourhood--the only one of my vagabonds who has ever been in it before--makes it a necessity to employ him in this matter. Perhaps in Wull Walford I may find a more intelligent _aide-de-camp. Nous verrons_!"

And with this conjectural reflection, Scarthe threw himself back in his chair; and once more gave way to the gloomy surmises that had already tormented his unhappy mind.

Again did they torment him as before; and it was a relief to him when the door once more turned upon its hinges, and his subaltern stepped into the room.

Not that Stubbs had any cheering news to communicate; nor was there just then anything encouraging in his countenance. On the contrary, the cornet looked but little less lugubrious than his captain; and he had been in that mood ever since morning.

Lora Lovelace would scarce condescend to exchange a word with him; and when by chance he had twice or thrice been thrown into her company, it was only to find himself the subject of a slight or a satire, and the next moment to receive the cold shoulder. All this, too, so delicately done, that Stubbs could find no opportunity for retaliation; unless by allowing licence to his vulgar spite, which Scarthe had cautioned him against. In fact, the cornet felt that the young lady, on more than one occasion, had made a b.u.t.t of him--he did, by Ged!

He had, at an earlier hour, communicated to his captain the ill success of his wooing; but the latter was too much absorbed in his own schemes, to offer him either advice or a.s.sistance.

The entrance of his subaltern turned the thoughts of Scarthe into a new channel--as testified by his speech.

"So, then, there's no one arrived from London yet?" he said, interrogatively, as he saw the cornet proceeding to seat himself.

A simple negative was the reply.

"'Tis very odd that the message--whatever it was--has not been delivered in duplicate before this time?"

"Very odd!--'tis, by Ged!"

"I shouldn't wonder if the fellow, frightened as he was by those precious footpads, has taken leave of his senses altogether; and, instead of carrying back my letter, has climbed into a tree, and hanged himself thereon!"