The carriage, with the wounded man in it, went rattling along the road, the jerks and bumps among the ruts being enough to keep the wound open and the blood flowing.
Then Lord Fylingdale called the chairmen. "Who are you?" he asked. "Do you belong to the town of Lynn?"
They looked at each other. Then one said, "No; we be from Swaffham. Squire Rising sent for us to do his job."
"Put in your poles. You must now carry the lady back."
"We have done our work," said his lordship. "It remains for us to escort Miss Molly home again. Madam, you can leave this foul den with the consciousness that you are avenged."
"Justice has been done. Justice is not revenge. You can now, madam, go back in the chair in which you were brought here. The villain who made the attempt is already on his way back. Since you desire mercy rather than revenge we must hope that his wound is not fatal."
So Molly reëntered the chair. Then she was brought home in triumph. The captain rode on one side; her champion on the other; before and behind her rode her mounted escort. If she had been a queen they could not have shown her greater deference and respect.
The news of the abduction, you may be sure, formed, next day, the only topic of talk in the pump room and the gardens. There are many rumours and reports. Mr. Rising was allowed to be a villain of the deepest dye. He was also allowed to be a gentleman of the greatest courage and resolution. The duel was described with such embroideries and additions as the feminine imagination could invent. Lord Fylingdale was desperately wounded; no, only slightly wounded; no, he was not touched. Mr. Rising was brought home dead, in a pool of blood; no, he was wounded and not expected to live; and so on. He lay, indeed, at his lodgings in a fever, which held him for some days; but being young and strong, and in good health, except that his habit of drinking had inflamed his blood, he recovered, and, as you shall presently learn, escaped from certain toils and snares that had been laid with skill, and were promising success.
I am sorry to say that the opinion of the ladies remained adverse to Molly. It was universally acknowledged that she was a forward minx; that she ought to have known her place; that, had she not given encouragement, Mr. Rising could never have attempted his rash adventure. "She wants to marry a gentleman. Naturally; she thinks that money will buy anything. What is the good of having all these fine things--if, indeed, they are hers--if she is to marry in her own class, a quill driver, a shopkeeper, a tarpauling? As everybody knows, Mr. Rising is a gentleman of good family and good estate; could she look higher? She ought to feel honoured at being carried away by a gentleman. As for any rumour, connecting her with Lord Fylingdale, one would be sorry for the poor wench if that was true, because nothing could be more impossible. Yet the ambition of a girl ignorant of the world may soar to heights incredible, like the soap bubble, only to burst, or the sky-rocket, only to fall ignobly to the ground. It is not likely that his lordship, said to be so fastidious, would bestow a serious thought upon the girl, save as representing the town of Lynn." And so on ... with whispers from one to the other at morning prayers, and louder talk in the pump room, and at the confectioner's and in the gardens.