It was drawing towards evening when Desmond reached Hounslow Heath; a
wide, bare expanse of scrubby land intersected by a muddy road. A light
mist lay over the ground, and he was thankful that the road to London was
perfectly direct, so that there was no further risk of his losing his
way. The solitude and the dismal appearance of the country, together with
its ill repute, made him quicken his pace, though he had no fear of
molestation; having nothing to lose, he would be but poor prey for a
highwayman, and he trusted to his cudgel to protect him from the
attentions of any single footpad or tramp.
Striding along in the gathering dusk, he came suddenly upon a curious
scene. A heavy traveling carriage was drawn half across the road, its
forewheels perilously near the ditch. Near by was a lady, standing with
arms stiff and hands clenched, stamping her foot as she addressed, in no
measured terms, two men who were rolling over one another in a desperate
tussle a few yards away on the heath. As Desmond drew nearer he perceived
that a second and younger lady stood at the horses' heads, grasping the
bridles firmly with both hands.
His footsteps were unheard on the heavy road, and the elder lady's back
being towards him, he came up to her unawares. She started with a little
cry when she saw a stranger move towards her out of the gloom. But
perceiving at a second glance that he was only a boy, with nothing
villainous about his appearance, she turned to him impulsively and,
taking him by the sleeve, said:
"There! You see them! The wretches! They are drunk and pay no heed to me!
Can you part them? I do not wish to be benighted on this heath.
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