a man might journey far afield and find no sweeter spot than the village of durford as it appeared on a certain sunny september afternoon in the year of grace 1685. the low white houses with their heavy overhanging thatched roofs were bowered in roses; while in each miniature garden the riot of colour and perfume intoxicated the senses. the low sun spread the long, cool shadows of the trees across the brilliant emerald and gold of the meadows, and lighted up each leaf and flower distinct from its fellows. the square tower of the old grey church and the grey-green clump of the yew trees behind it were silhouetted against a golden haze like the head of a haloed saint. the summits of the distant hills faded in golden mist like the mystic scopes of paradise. in the neighbouring orchards the trees bent beneath the weight of their russet burdens, the fields spread golden with the harvest, and the wooded hills burned with the bright, burnished tints of early autumn. it was as though in this, the evening of the year, mother earth were moved in emulation of the sky to deck herself in all the varied colours of the autumn sunset.
in the woods the birds were practising for their autumn chorus, voicing the ecstatic joy of life in little unexpected trills and bursts of song, while the heavy drone of the bees and the occasional cry of the grasshoppers denoted a more sober contentment. the soft, warm air was heavy with a myriad delicate scents; breathing over the imagination faint, suggestive memories of a happy past and formless dreams of a golden future.
but as the heart of man is still untamed by the sweet influences of nature, so, on the afternoon in question, a scene was being enacted on the green before the inn, as foul as the surrounding picture was fair, as though heaven and hell, god's love and tenderness to man, and man's brutality and cruelty to his fellows, were here met side by side.
in the centre of the green stood a tall whipping-post, and tied to this was a small boy of some nine years of age. his back was bare, his eyes were wide with fear, and his teeth were resolutely clenched to repress the sobs which ever and anon forced their way through his lips.
over the boy, whip in hand, stood a man dressed in the uniform of a corporal of the 2d tangiers regiment, a stout, purple-faced fellow, with scrubby black hair and beard, near-set cunning eyes, a cruel mouth, and over all an air of supreme importance and self-satisfaction. this was corporal crutch, a man whose life was alternately glorified by his own assurance of his remarkable ability and embittered by the world's blindness towards the same.
some half dozen troopers stood around watching the scene, and on the edge of the group were three or four sobbing women and a crowd of wide-eyed, terrified children.
"now, my lad," cried the corporal, with a gleeful chuckle, "let us have no more of this obstinacy. nay, an thou wilt not speak, i warrant me a taste of this whip will help me to the finding of thy tongue, and doubtless of thy father into the bargain. an thou beest a wise lad thou'lt speak now, once my arm gets to work on thee 'twill not be so ready to stop, maybe."
some of the troopers laughed, and the women's sobs increased, but the boy remained resolutely silent.
"so thou wilt have it then," cried the corporal; and the whip descended with a sickening swish on to the boy's bare back.
once! twice! thrice! the boy shuddered and sobbed, but no word came from his lips, and the corporal, angered by this unexpected determination on the part of his victim, doubled the weight of his blows.
suddenly a shout interrupted the proceedings and a loud, clear voice rang out imperiously:
"hold, fellow! what art thou doing to the child? loose him instantly."
the crowd round the corporal fell back hurriedly, and he himself paused and slowly turned his head in the direction whence the voice came.
the speaker was a tall, slender girl, with a face of such exquisite beauty as men may hope to see but once or twice in a lifetime, and having seen, may never hope to forget. the beautiful oval face, clear-skinned and glowing with colour, was outlined by soft dark hair, shading to black in the shadows, waving back from the low white brow in soft rippling curls. the clear-cut perfection of her features was relieved from coldness by the unmanageable dimple at one corner of her mouth, and by the frank directness of the deep blue eyes, which looked out upon the world from beneath their dark lashes with habitual fearlessness. the expression of her face was habitually happy and friendly, only the firm lines of her mouth and chin belying the general expression of good-tempered recklessness.
she was mounted on a rough pony, and had drawn rein at the top of the hill leading down to the village, moved by an idle curiosity to learn the cause of the crowd before the inn.
the faces of the sobbing women brightened when they saw the girl, and the men glanced at each other sheepishly.
"'tis mistress barbara winslow from the manor house," muttered one. "thou hadst best send the lad about his business, corporal."
but corporal crutch was an obstinate man, and one moreover who was imbued with a strong sense of his own importance; he had no mind to allow any woman, whether of high or low degree, to interfere with his chosen occupation. moreover the manor house was suspected of harbouring rebels, and its occupants were judged little better than rebels themselves. so paying no heed either to the command or the advice, he turned his back upon the advancing figure and raised his whip for another blow on the back of his trembling victim.
"hold! i tell thee, fellow," cried the girl again angrily. "dost thou not hear me? nay, an thou wilt not, by heaven i'll make thee obey."
without further ado she galloped straight at the group on the green which scattered to right and left as she passed, then with a sudden quick movement cracked out the long lash of her riding whip, curling it lasso-like around the corporal's neck, and not checking her pace dragged him stumbling and stuttering backwards till he fell to the ground. then releasing the whip handle and reining back her pony to admire her handiwork she burst into a peal of laughter. and indeed 'twas a fit subject for merriment, for the corporal was stout and angry and the lash was exceedingly long and heavy. the corporal alternately swore and struggled, and the lash became every minute more tightly entangled round his neck.
presently mistress barbara checked her laughter, slipped from her pony and crossed to the whipping-post where the sobbing boy stood watching the scene with eager eyes in which hope and fear still strove for the mastery.
"loose him," she cried imperiously, and the troopers hastened to obey her.
"my poor brave laddie," she murmured, bending over him tenderly. "ah! but they have hurt thee cruelly. get away to thy mother and fear not. they shall not touch thee again."
then drawing herself up to her full height, and she was more than common tall, she faced round upon the group of men.
"brutes," she cried. "brutes ye are, and no men to treat a poor helpless laddie thus. what! have ye no manhood? think shame of yourselves to stand by and let such work go on. an i were but a man i'd teach you a lesson you would not soon forget."
"'tis well enough to talk," grumbled one of the troopers angrily; "but the lad's father is in hiding and we must know where he is, the boy could tell us well enough an he would speak. we caught him slipping thro' the wood an hour back. yon basket of food he carried was for him, i warrant."
"'tis very like," answered barbara coldly. "what then?"
"what then? why the fellow is a rebel."
"and what of that, pray? an his father be a rebel to king james, is that reason why the lad should be traitor to his own father? shame on you! you who are fathers yourselves; would you have your sons cast such a teaching in your teeth?"
by this time the corporal had freed his neck from the lash and recovered his equanimity. now he bustled to the front with an air of importance.
"best beware, mistress," he cried roughly. "best beware. 'tis ill work to interfere wi' the just punishment of traitors."
barbara turned to him and laughed softly.
"ha! sir gallows-bird. so thou hast escaped the hemp; welcome on thy return to this wicked world."
"i tell thee, madame," stuttered the corporal angrily, "'tis ill work jesting——"
"peace, fool!" she cried imperiously. "i marvel thou art not ashamed to show thy face after this day's work. i knew already you and your masters think it no shame to fight against women, but at least methought children might go unharmed. they can do but little harm to king james."
"pshaw! ye know nought of the matter," blustered the corporal. "i brook no interference in the exercise of my duty. bring back the boy, sam perry, and proceed with the interrogation."
"do not attempt it," answered the girl quietly, "for i will not permit it."
sam perry hesitated.
"what!" roared the corporal, "are ye afraid of a chit of a girl? why do you not obey?"
"at your peril," cried barbara sharply, moving before the men.
how the matter would eventually have terminated is doubtful had not a second interruption occurred.
the door of the inn opened, and a figure emerged at sight of which the troopers shrank back sheepishly, and the corporal's air of importance vanished pitifully.
"what is the meaning of this disturbance?" sharply demanded the new arrival.
barbara turned eagerly towards him.
"are you the leader of these butchers, sir?" she enquired haughtily.
though somewhat astonished at this unexpected mode of address, captain protheroe, for he it was, smiled slightly and answered politely enough:
"i am the captain of these men, if that is what you would ask, madame. are all soldiers butchers in your estimation?"
"soldiers!" she cried scornfully. "call ye them soldiers? but perhaps you are even as they, and 'tis by your orders they torture women and children and make a veritable hell of god's earth. i wish you joy of such work."
"pardon my dulness, madame," answered the captain calmly, "but i have not the least idea to what you are alluding or how i have incurred your displeasure."
"no? then hearken, sir." and in burning words she described the cause of her indignation.
the captain listened with a gathering frown to her story, and at the conclusion turned on the corporal with a look that boded ill for that self-satisfied mortal.
"so, sirrah! is this the way you carry out my orders? have i not said i will have no violence to the village folk? and by heaven i will be obeyed. i have long known thee for a knave. art fool and coward, too, that you must needs force children to help thee with thy work? is this thy notion of a soldier's work? i'll teach thee better knowledge of thy duty ere i've done with thee. 'tis not the first time i've heard such complaints; see to it it be the last, or by the saints 'twill be the end of thy service. i'll have no bullies in my troop. go, sirrah!"
the discomfited corporal slunk off down the street casting an ugly glance over his shoulder at the girl who had brought such a rating upon him. but for her part barbara laughed and waved her hand after the retreating figure.
"fare thee well, sir knight of the whipcord," she cried gaily.
when the corporal had vanished, followed by other troopers, the captain turned towards barbara with a bow and said coldly:
"i trust you are satisfied with these orders, madame."
"i shall be satisfied, sir, when i know that the orders are executed," she answered coolly.
"madame, i command here. where i command i am obeyed."
"'twere easy to believe it, sir," she answered with a half-smile and a glance at his resolute face. "but i have heard there be many orders delivered thus readily in public which privately are never intended to be performed."
the captain flushed hotly, but gave no further sign of anger at this insinuation.
"indeed, i know not wherein i have deserved your distrust, madame."
"in such troublous times as these my distrust is given before my confidence, sir; and pray what have you done to prove that distrust is misplaced? you claim to be a gentleman, but by heaven 'tis no gentle's work to hunt down poor wretches led astray by others who should have known a wiser path; 'tis no gentle's work to harry helpless women and children; 'tis no gentle's work to listen behind doors and spy through keyholes. by my faith, sir," she continued, her temper increasing at the remembrance of her many grievances; "by my faith, sir, this poor wretch of a corporal whom you have so rated is virtue itself compared with you. he but executes the orders which you conceive, hiding yourself behind the name of gentleman."
the last words were delivered with biting scorn, and having concluded her tirade, barbara turned her back upon him and stepped towards her pony.
captain protheroe had remained politely silent during this harangue. when her back was turned he smiled slightly and followed the indignant lady.
"permit me to assist you to mount, madame," he said with grave politeness.
barbara drew her skirts around her and answered with as much haughty dignity as her rising anger would permit:
"no, sir. when you have shown yourself capable of a gentleman's work you may be worthy of a gentleman's privileges. until that time i prefer to mount alone and keep myself from the pollution of your touch."
but instead of being crushed as she had intended he should be, captain protheroe merely smiled again and stood politely aside to watch her mount. the pony was restless, two or three attempts were necessary before the feat was accomplished, and during the struggle both barbara's dignity and temper suffered considerably. captain protheroe wisely made no further offer of assistance, but watched her efforts with an amused twinkle in his eyes.
suddenly an idea struck him. he laughed softly, and placing a detaining hand upon the pony's bridle he turned once more to the lady, an ironical smile playing about his lips.
"madame, since i am unworthy to touch your foot, i fear i am equally unworthy to retain this small token of remembrance which you so obligingly bestowed upon me that evening some weeks ago when you did me the honour to embrace me." so speaking he placed his hand in the pocket of his coat and drew forth the scarlet ribbon of the cloak which she had left in his hands when she fled from him at their first meeting.
had there been magic in the small piece of ribbon it could not well have wrought a greater change in barbara. her attempt at dignity vanished. a wave of crimson passed over her face, her eyes blazed, and when she spoke it was in a voice choked with passion.
"how dare you, sir! 'tis a most cowardly lie. 'twas no embrace, as you might know well. 'twas—'twas—an assault."
her persecutor was as unmoved by her passion as he had been by her rating.
"no embrace?" he drawled in polite astonishment. "nay, then i pray you pardon my mistake, which you will grant me was a natural one. truly an that be your manner of assaulting your enemies, i forgive the fates for having ranked me among their number, and shall desire of them nothing better than continuous battery at your hands."
"have your desire then," cried barbara furiously, and doubling up her first she dealt him a fierce blow on the side of his face.
with a quiet smile he turned his head.
"the other cheek, madame?"
barbara gasped and for a moment stared down into the cool face raised to hers. then suddenly her eyes twinkled, her mouth dimpled, and she broke into a soft, half-angry laugh which, however, she as quickly repressed.
"by heaven, sir, an you be not the most aggravating man in the kingdom, heaven grant i may never meet him. how dare you detain me thus? loose my pony instantly."
he drew back with a low bow.
"your pardon, madame, your way is free. in the meantime i will keep this token till ye redeem it by another embrace—i should say, assault."
"then you will keep it forever, sir."
"it is nought but the alternative that i should desire more," answered the captain still with the same quiet smile. but barbara was too furious to answer, and whipping up her pony she galloped away.
the captain stood silently watching her till she disappeared from the narrow village street, then he turned and walked into the inn.
in the taproom sat the corporal, his wounded pride somewhat soothed by generous potations, holding forth upon the subject of his grievances to the half-dozen troopers collected there.
"'tis a fine state of things when any blue-eyed wench is to be allowed to interfere in the administration of justice and say this ye shall and this ye shall not do, for all the world like the general himself. 'tis no sort of work. 'twas very different in the old days wi' captain carrington. then an a lad would not speak we had ways to teach him. but now——" he paused cautiously and confided his criticism of his superior officer to the depths of his tankard.
"this mistress barbara is a bold wench," ventured sam perry cautiously.
the corporal's face darkened.
"mistress winslow had best be careful," he muttered. "her brother is attainted as a rebel, and lieth somewhere in hiding, and i warrant yon haughty wench knows where. zounds! i'll keep a careful watch of her—and i doubt not soon to surprise her secret. 'twere a sweet revenge," he muttered, rubbing his fingers gleefully; "and 'twould teach her 'tis scant wisdom to bandy words wi' them in authority and fling whips i' an honest man's face."
meanwhile barbara rode home slowly, talking to herself as was her wont.
"odd's bodikin! as rupert would say, but how the fat corporal did puff and splutter. poor cicely would say 'twere wicked folly thus to anger our enemies against us, but sure such a prank can do no harm. the corporal is patently a fool, i fear him not; and as for the other——" here she paused and laughed half-angrily. "he surely would not venge his quarrel with me on rupert. but what an immovable fellow it is. how i would love to see him angry. 'twere perchance a dangerous experiment, but i were no true woman did i not long to try. ah! well, an he remain here much longer i fear he may have many chances to taste of my temper. 'tis a brutal world." and so alternately laughing and frowning, she rode home to the manor house.
