Rookwood. A Romance By W. HARRISON AINSWORTH

“Restore that paper, villain,” exclaimed Lady Rookwood, recovering all the audacity natural to her character, the instant she discovered the earthly nature of the intruder; “restore it, or, by Heaven, you shall rue your temerity.”

“Softly, softly,” replied the pseudo-phantom, with one hand pushing back the lady, while the other conveyed the precious document to the custody of his nether man—”softly,” said he, giving the buckskin pocket a slap—”two words to that, my lady. I know its value as well as yourself, and must make my market. The highest offer has me, your ladyship; he’s but a poor auctioneer that knocks down his ware when only one bidder is present. Luke Bradley, or, as I find he now is, Sir Luke Rookwood, may come down more handsomely.”

“Who are you, ruffian, and to what end is this masquerade assumed? If for the purpose of terrifying me into compliance with the schemes of that madman, Luke Bradley, whom I presume to be your confederate, your labour is misspent—your stolen disguise has no more weight with me than his forged claims.”

“Forged claims. Egad, he must be a clever man to have forged that certificate. Your ladyship, however, is in error. Sir Luke Rookwood is no associate of mine; I am his late father’s friend. But I have no time to bandy talk. What money have you in the house? Be alive.”

“You are a robber, then?”

“Not I. I’m a tax-gatherer—a collector of Rich-Rates—ha! ha! What plate have you got? Nay, don’t be alarmed—take it quietly—these things can’t be helped—better make up your mind to it without more ado—much the best plan—no screaming, it may injure your lungs, and can alarm nobody. Your maids have done as much before—it’s beneath your dignity to make so much noise. So, you will not heed me? As you will.” Saying which, he deliberately cut the bell-cord, and drew out a brace of pistols at the same time.

“Agnes!” shrieked Lady Rookwood, now seriously alarmed.

“I must caution your ladyship to be silent,” said the robber, who, as our readers will no doubt have already conjectured, was no other than the redoubted Jack Palmer. “Agnes is already disposed of,” said he, cocking a pistol. “However like your deceased ‘lord and master,’ I may appear, you will find that you have got a very different spirit from that of Sir Piers to deal with. I am naturally the politest man breathing—have been accounted the best-bred man on the road, by every lady whom I have had the honour of addressing; and I should be sorry to sully my well-earned reputation by anything like rudeness. I must use a little force, of the gentlest kind. Perhaps, you will permit me to hand you to a chair. Bless me! what a wrist your ladyship has got. Excuse me, if I hurt you, but you are so devilish strong. What ho! ‘Sir Piers Rookwood calls—'”

“Ready,” cried a voice.

“That’s the word,” rejoined another; “ready,” and immediately two men, their features entirely hidden by a shroud of black crape, accoutred in rough attire, and each armed with pistols, rushed into the room.

“Lend a hand,” said Jack.

Even in this perilous extremity, Lady Rookwood’s courage did not desert her. Anticipating their purpose, ere her assailants could reach her, she extricated herself from Palmer’s grasp, and rushed upon the foremost so unexpectedly, that, before the man could seize her, she snatched a pistol from his hand, and presented it at the group with an aspect like that of a tigress at bay—her eye wandering from one to the other, as if selecting a mark.

There was a pause of a few seconds, in which the men glanced at the lady, and then at their leader. Jack looked blank.

“Hem!” said he, coolly; “this is something new—disarmed—defied by a petticoat. Hark ye, Rob Rust; the disgrace rests with you. Clear your character, by securing her at once. What! afraid of a woman?”

“A woman!” repeated Rust, in a surly tone; “devilish like a woman, indeed. Few men could do what she has done. Give the word, and I fire. As to seizing her, that’s more than I’ll engage to do.”

“Then damn you for a coward,” said Jack. “I will steer clear of blood—if I can help it. Come, madam, surrender, like the more sensible part of your sex, at discretion. You will find resistance of no avail.” And he stepped boldly towards her.

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