James Ewing Ritchie - Crying for the Light: or, Fifty Years Ago. Volume 3 of 3 стр 3.

But I tell you you are, my good woman.

Drunk or sober, Sir Watkin, you must listen to me.

Ill do nothing of the kind.

If you dont hear me, Sir Watkin, youll be sorry as long as you live.

By this time the crowd had been attracted to the spot, and the situation was becoming unpleasant to the Baronet, who formed the centre of an amazed group, to whom the annoyance of the Baronet and the tipsy gravity of the woman were more than slightly amusing.

Sir Watkin attempted to move off.

The poor woman endeavoured to stop him. In the attempt she overbalanced herself, and fell prostrate on the earth, to the intense delight of the spectators, who enjoyed the scene amazingly.

Sir Watkin, I say, said his persecutor, rising slowly from her recumbent position; Sir Watkin, I say!

But the baronet was gone, and, instead, the woman found herself being assisted gently off the ground by an efficient policeman, who, seeing a crowd of a peaceful character, thought it becoming to interfere.

Had the crowd been of a different complexion, and had there been any fighting going on, the chances are the policeman with the usual instinct of his order for a sound skin or an uncracked skull would have been looking steadfastly in quite an opposite direction. They all do it, and it is natural.

The man had already asked Sir Watkin if he would have her given in charge, an offer Sir Watkin declined. He had no wish, he said, to be hard on her; he only wished her to leave him alone. That was quite enough.

The crowd naturally sided with the Baronet. He was the great man of the district.

What business had a wretched woman like that to interfere with him? Just like her imperence! said the majority.

One or two, more curious than the rest, followed the woman, with a view to learn further particulars; but she was, for a wonder, reticent. She was not Sall but Salls friend and ally. Not if wild horses were to drag her in twain would she disclose her secret. It was one between Sir Watkin and herself alone.

Sir Watkin rejoined his friends, trusting that they had not been eye-witnesses of his adventure.

Just at that moment he had no wish to have scandal or mystery attaching to his name. Hitherto, his appearance had been quite a success, and the British merchant and his daughter were duly impressed with the respect and attention he had everywhere commanded.

Weve missed you much, Sir Watkin, said the lady in a tone which flattered his vanity and raised his hopes.

Yes, the crowd cruelly separated us for a few minutes.

A few minutes! said the lady; it seemed to me a long time.

You make me proud, said the Baronet. It is something to be missed by one who has always so many admirers.

You flatter me, Sir Watkin. But, seriously, what was all the fuss about?

Only a tipsy woman.

How shocking! But, good gracious, there she is again.

Sir Watkin looked in the direction pointed out, and, sure enough, there was his old enemy. Conducted off the ground by one gate, she had reappeared by another, and was bearing down, amidst the jeers of the oi polloi, straight upon himself.

Confound her impudence! he exclaimed. I wish I had given her in charge.

Sir Watkin, I say! Sir Watkin, hear me! Ive something very particular to say.

Yes, but you cant say it now, my good woman. Dont you see I am engaged?

Again a crowd assembled in full expectation of some fun an extra entertainment not included in the days programme.

Again, fortunately, the policeman appeared.

Now, my good woman, said he, he hoff. Dont you see you are creatin a disturbance?

I am a-doin wat? asked the party addressed.

You are a-creatin a disturbance and hinterferin with the gentry. It is agen the law. Youd best take yourself off.

Oh, I am a-goin, but I must speak to Sir Watkin first.

Call at the Hall, old gal, and leave your card, and then Sir Watkin will be delighted to see you, cried one in the crowd. The family dine at seven. Dont forget the hour.

Yes, said another, Sir Watkin will be pleased to see such a beauty. Hell want you to stop with him a month. Sir Watkin knows a pretty gal when he sees one no one better.

But by this time Sir Watkin and his party were off. His groom had come to the rescue and brought up the horses, and they remounted, leaving the tipsy woman to scream after him in vain.

This time, however, her blood was up, and she refused to be led quietly off. Another constable came to the rescue of his mate, and she was carried off, kicking and struggling all the while. Her cries filled the air and reached the Baronets party.

Tis very annoying, but one cant help such things on a public day like this, said he in an apologetic tone to the lady. The poor woman must be cracked, I think.

It makes one ashamed of ones sex, was her reply.

Such conduct ought not to be allowed. The police arent half sharp enough, said the British merchant. What do we pay rates and taxes for, I should like to know, but to prevent such disturbances?

The British merchant evidently expected the British public to be as subdued and deferential as his clerks in his counting-house, when they appeared in his august and imposing presence, or as his debtors, when bills were overdue.

The ladies of his party had left the field early their ears stunned with the noisy scene:

Sir Watkin and his friend, the British merchant, had stopped to dine at the grand banquet held on the occasion, in the leading hotel of the town. An Englishman can do nothing without a public dinner. Sir Watkin had to take the chair.

You will excuse me, wont you? said he to the young lady, as he parted with her.

Oh, yes! said she gaily. I am quite aware property has its duties as well as its rights.

Well, I think it is well to be neighbourly when one has the chance. But I give you my word of honour, I would far sooner ride back with you.

Well, the best of friends must part, said the lady. But you will be home in good time. Au revoir! Pray, take care of papa, said the lady, as she returned to the carriage that was to take her and some other ladies to the Hall, under the care of the vicar of the parish.

Meanwhile, Sir Watkin made his way with his friend to the leading hotel of Sloville, where a heavy dinner of the old-fashioned type such as was dear to the farmer years ago was prepared, where the feeding and the drinking were alike trying to the stoutest nerve and the strongest digestion, and where the after-dinner oratory was of a truly bucolic character.

The farmers were delighted to find their landlord in the chair, and listened to him as if he were an oracle. The dinner was a great success. As chairman, the Baronet had especially distinguished himself.

There were fireworks in the evening, and a Bacchanalian orgy such as Sloville had rarely beheld. But the Baronet and his friend did not stop for that, but got back to the Hall in time to finish the day with a ball. The old Hall was gayer that night than it had been for a long time. All the old family plate had been brought forth for the occasion, and everywhere was light and music and laughter and bright the lamps shone on

The revelry was loud and long, and hours after the ladies had retired the men had remained in the smoking-room to drink soda and brandy, and to talk of hunting exploits, of horses, of women, and of wine.