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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/12277-0.txt b/12277-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..73f5c02 --- /dev/null +++ b/12277-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,6427 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 12277 *** + +THE DELECTABLE DUCHY + + +BY Q + +1906 + + + + +SHORT STORY + +To + +ALFRED PARSONS + + + + +CONTENTS + + +PROLOGUE +THE SPINSTER'S MAYING +DAPHNIS +WHEN THE SAP ROSE +THE PAUPERS +CUCKOO VALLEY RAILWAY +THE CONSPIRACY ABOARD THE "MIDAS" +LEGENDS OF ST. PIRAN. + I St. Piran: the Millstone + II St. Piran: the Visitation +IN THE TRAIN. + I. Punch's Understudy + II. A Corrected Contempt +WOON GATE +FROM A COTTAGE IN GANTICK. + I. The Mourner's Horse + II. Silhouettes +THE DRAWN BLIND +A GOLDEN WEDDING +SCHOOL FRIENDS +PARENTS AND CHILDREN. + I. The Family Bible + II. Boanerges +TWO MONUMENTS +EGG-STEALING +SEVEN-AN'-SIX +THE REGENT'S WAGER +LOVE OF NAOMI +THE PRINCE OF ABYSSINIA'S POST-BAG. + I. An Interruption + II. The Great Fire on Freethy's Quay + + + + +PROLOGUE. + + +A week ago, my friend the Journalist wrote to remind me that once upon +a time I had offered him a bed in my cottage at Troy and promised to +show him the beauties of the place. He was about (he said) to give +himself a fortnight's holiday, and had some notion of using that time +to learn what Cornwall was like. He could spare but one day for Troy, +and hardly looked to exhaust its attractions; nevertheless, if my +promise held good.... By anticipation he spoke of my home as a "nook." +Its windows look down upon a harbour, wherein, day by day, vessels +of every nation and men of large experience are for ever going and +coming; and beyond the harbour, upon leagues of open sea, highway +of the vastest traffic in the world: whereas from his own far more +expensive house my friend sees only a dirty laurel-bush, a high green +fence, and the upper half of a suburban lamp post. Yet he is convinced +that I dwell in a nook. + +I answered his letter, warmly repeating the invitation; and last week +he arrived. The change had bronzed his face, and from his talk I +learnt that he had already seen half the Duchy, in seven days. Yet he +had been unreasonably delayed in at least a dozen places, and used the +strongest language about 'bus and coach communication, local trains, +misleading sign-posts, and the like. Our scenery enraptured him--every +aspect of it. He had travelled up the Tamar to Launceston, crossed +the moors, climbing Roughtor and Brown Willy on his way, plunged down +towards Camelford, which he appeared to have reached by following two +valleys simultaneously, coached to Boscastle, walked to Tintagel, +climbed up to Uther's Castle, diverged inland to St. Nectan's Kieve, +driven on to Bedruthan Steps, Mawgan, the Vale of Lanherne, Newquay, +taken a train thence to Truro, a steamer from Truro to Falmouth, +crossed the ferry to St. Mawes, walked up the coast to Mevagissey, +driven from Mevagissey to St. Austell, and at St. Austell taken +another train for Troy. This brought half his holiday to a close: the +remaining half he meant to devote to the Mining District, St. Ives, +the Land's End, St. Michael's Mount, the Lizard, and perhaps the +Scilly Isles. + +Then I began to feel that I lived in a nook, and to wonder how I could +spin out its attractions to cover a whole day: for I could not hear to +think of his departing with secret regret for his lavished time. In +a flash I saw the truth; that my love for this spot is built up of +numberless trivialities, of small memories all incommunicable, or +ridiculous when communicated; a scrap of local speech heard at this +corner, a pleasant native face remembered in that doorway, a battered +vessel dropping anchor--she went out in the spring with her crew +singing dolefully; and the grey-bearded man waiting in his boat +beneath her counter till the custom-house officers have made their +survey is the father of one among the crew, and is waiting to take +his son's hand again, after months of absence. Would this interest my +friend, if I pointed it out to him? Or, if I walk with him by the path +above the creek, what will he care to know that on this particular +bank the violets always bloom earliest--that one of a line of +yews that top the churchyard wall is remarkable because a pair of +missel-thrushes have chosen it to build in for three successive years? +The violets are gone. The empty nest has almost dissolved under the +late heavy rains, and the yew is so like its fellows that I myself +have no idea why the birds chose it. The longer I reflected the +more certain I felt that my friend could find all he wanted in the +guide-books. + +None the less, I did my best: rowed him for a mile or two up the +river; took him out to sea, and along the coast for half a dozen +miles. The water was choppy, as it is under the slightest breeze from +the south-east; and the Journalist was sea-sick; but seemed to mind +this very little, and recovered sufficiently to ask my boatman two or +three hundred questions before we reached the harbour again. Then +we landed and explored the Church. This took us some time, owing to +several freaks in its construction, for which I blessed the memory +of its early-English builders. We went on to the Town Hall, the old +Stannary Prison (now in ruins), the dilapidated Block-houses, the +Battery. We traversed the town from end to end and studied the +barge-boards and punkin-ends of every old house. I had meanly ordered +that dinner should he ready half-an-hour earlier than usual, and, as +it was, the objects of interest just lasted out. + +As we sat and smoked our cigarettes after dinner, the Journalist +said-- + +"If you don't mind, I'll he off in a few minutes and shut myself up in +your study. I won't he long turning out the copy; and after that I can +talk to you without feeling I've neglected my work. There's an early +post here, I suppose?" + +"Man alive!" said I, "you don't mean to tell me that you're working, +this holiday?" + +"Only a letter for the 'Daily ----' three times a week--a column and a +half, or so." + +"The subject?" + +"Oh, descriptive stuff about the places I've been visiting. I call it +'An Idler in Lyonesse.'" + +"Why Lyonesse?" + +"Why not?" + +"Well, Lyonesse has lain at the bottom of the Atlantic, between Land's +End and Scilly, these eight hundred years. The chroniclers relate that +it was overwhelmed and lost in 1099, A.D. If your Constant Readers +care to ramble there, they're welcome, I'm sure." + +"I had thought" said he, "it was just a poet's name for Cornwall. +Well, never mind, I'll go in presently and write up this place: it's +just as well to do it while one's impressions are still fresh." + +He finished his coffee, lit a fresh cigarette, and strolled off to the +little library where I usually work. I stepped out upon the verandah +and looked down on the harbour at my feet, where already the vessels +were hanging out their lamps in the twilight. I had looked down thus, +and at this hour, a thousand times; and always the scene had something +new to reveal to me, and much more to withhold--small subtleties such +as a man finds in his wife, however ordinary she may appear to other +people. And here, in the next room, was a man who, in half-a-dozen +hours, felt able to describe Troy, to deck her out, at least, in +language that should captivate a million or so of breakfasting +Britons. + +"My country," said I, "if you have given up, in these six hours, a +tithe of your heart to this man--if, in fact, his screed be not +arrant bosh--then will I hie me to London for good and all, and write +political leaders all the days of my life." + +In an hour's time the Journalist came sauntering out to me, and +announced that his letter was written. + +"Have you sealed it up?" + +"Well, no. I thought you might give me an additional hint or two; and +maybe I might look it over again and add a few lines before turning +in." + +"Do you mind my seeing it?" + +"Not the least in the world, if you care to. I didn't think, though, +that it could possibly interest you, who know already every mortal +thing that is to be known about the place." + +"You're mistaken. I may know all about this place when I die, but not +before. Let's hear what you have to say." + +We went indoors, and he read it over to me. + +It was a surprisingly brilliant piece of description; and accurate, +too. He had not called it "a little fishing-town," for instance, as so +many visitors have done in my hearing, though hardly a fishing-boat +puts out from the harbour. The guide-books call it a fishing-town, but +the Journalist was not misled, though he had gone to them for a number +of facts. I corrected a date and then sat silent. It amazed me that a +man who could see so much, should fail to perceive that what he had +seen was of no account in comparison with what he had not: or that, +if he did indeed perceive this, he could write such stuff with such +gusto. "To be capable of so much and content with so little," I +thought; and then broke off to wonder if, after all, he were not +right. To-morrow he would be on his way, crowding his mind with quick +and brilliant impressions, hurrying, living, telling his fellows a +thousand useful and pleasant things, while I pored about to discover +one or two for them. + +"I thought," said the Journalist, swinging his gold pencil-case +between finger and thumb, "you might furnish me with just a hint or +so, to give the thing a local colour. Some little characteristic of +the natives, for instance. I noticed, this afternoon, when I was most +sea-sick, that your fellow took off his hat and pulled something out +of the lining. I was too ill to see what it was; but he dropped it +overboard the next minute and muttered something." + +"Oh, you remarked that, did you?" + +"Yes, and meant to ask him about it afterwards; but forgot, somehow." + +"Do you remember where we were--what we were passing--when he did +this?" + +"Not clearly. I was infernally ill just then. Why did he do it?" + +I was silent. + +"I suppose it had some meaning?" he went on. + +"Yes, it had. And excuse me when I say that I'm hanged if either you +or your Constant Readers shall know what that meaning was. My dear +fellow, you belong to a strong race--a race that has beaten us and +taken toll of us, and now carves 'Smith' and 'Thompson' and such names +upon our fathers' tombs. But there are some things you have not laid +hands on yet; secrets that we all know somehow, but never utter, even +among ourselves, nor allude to. If I told you what Billy Tredegar did +to-day, and why he did it, I tell you frankly your article would +make some thousands of Constant Readers open wide eyes over their +breakfast-cups. But you won't know. Why, after all, should I say +anything to spoil Cornwall's prospects as a health-resort?" + +My friend took this very quietly, merely observing that it was rather +late in the day to take sides against Hengist and Horsa. But he was +sorry, I could see, to lose his local colour. And as I looked down, +for the last time that night, upon Troy, this petition escaped me-- + +"O my country, if I keep your secrets, keep for me your heart!" + + + + +THE SPINSTER'S MAYING. + + "_The fields breathe sweet, the daisies kiss our feet, + Young lovers meet, old wives a-sunning sit; + In every street these tunes our ears do greet-- + Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-wee, to-witta-woo! + Spring, the sweet Spring_." + + +At two o'clock on May morning a fishing-boat, with a small row-boat in +tow, stole up the harbour between the lights of the vessels that lay +at anchor. She came on a soundless tide, with her sprit-mainsail +wide and drawing, and her foresail flapping idle; and although her +cuddy-top and gunwale glistened wet with a recent shower, the man who +steered her looked over his shoulder at the waning moon, and decided +that the dawn would be a fine one. A furlong below the Town Quay he +left the tiller and lowered sail: two furlongs above, he dropped +anchor: then, having made all ship-shape, he lit a pipe and pulled an +enormous watch from his fob. The vessels he had passed since entering +the harbour's mouth seemed one and all asleep. But a din of horns, +kettles, and tea-trays, and a wild tattoo of door-knockers, sounded +along the streets behind the stores and houses that lined the +water-side. Already the town-boys were ushering in the month of May. + +The man waited until the half-hour chimed over the 'long-shore roofs +from the church-tower up the hill; set his watch with care; and sat +down to wait for the sun. Upon the wooded cliff that faces the town +the birds were waking; and by-and-bye, from the three small quays came +the sound of voices laughing, and then a boat or two stealing out of +the shadow, each crowded with boys and maids. Before the dawn grew red +above the cliff where the birds sang, a dozen boats had gone by him on +their way up the river, the chatter and broken laughter returning down +its dim reaches long after the rowers had passed out of sight. + +For some moments longer he watched the broadening daylight, till the +sun, mounting above the cliff, blazed on the watch he had again pulled +out and now shut with a brisk snap. His round, shaven face, still +boyish in middle age, wore the shadow of a solemn responsibility. He +clambered out into the small boat astern, and, casting loose, pulled +towards a bright patch of colour in the grey shore wall: a blue +quay-door overhung with ivy. The upper windows of the cottage behind +it were draped with snowy muslin, and its walls, coated with recent +whitewash, shamed its neighbours to right and left. + +As the boat dropped under this blue quay-door, its upper flap opened +softly, and a voice as softly said-- + +"Thank you kindly, John. And how d'ye do this May morning?" + +"Charming," the man answered frankly. "Handsome weather 'tis, to be +sure." + +He looked up and smiled at her, like a lover. + +"I needn't to ask how _you_ be; for you'm looking sweet as blossom," +he went on. + +And yet the woman that smiled down on him was fifty years old at +least. Her hair, which usually lay in two flat bands, closely drawn +over the temples, had for this occasion been worked into waves +by curling-papers, and twisted in front of either ear, into that +particular ringlet locally called a kiss-me-quick. But it was streaked +with grey, and the pinched features wore the tint of pale ivory. + +"D'ye think you can clamber down the ladder, Sarah? The tide's fairly +high." + +"I'm afraid I'll be showing my ankles." + +"I was hoping so. Wunnerful ankles you've a-got, Sarah, and a +wunnerful cage o' teeth. Such extremities 'd well beseem a king's +daughter, all glorious within!" + +Sarah Blewitt pulled open the lower flap of the door and set her foot +on the ladder. She wore a white print gown beneath her cloak, and a +small bonnet of black straw decorated with sham cowslips. The cloak, +hitching for a moment on the ladder's side, revealed a beaded reticule +that hung from her waist, and clinked as she descended. + +"I reckon there's scarce an inch of paint left on my front door," she +observed, as the man steadied her with an arm round her waist, and +settled her comfortably in the stern-sheets. + +He unshipped his oars and began to pull. + +"Ay. I heard 'em whackin' the door with a deal o' tow-row. They was +going it like billy-O when I came past the Town Quay. But one mustn' +complain, May-mornin's." + +"I wasn' complaining," said the woman; "I was just remarking. How's +Maria?" + +"She's nicely, thank you." + +"And the children?" + +"Brave." + +"I've put up sixpennyworth of nicey in four packets--that's one +apiece--and I've written the name on each, for you to take home to +'em." + +She fumbled in her reticule and produced the packets. The +peppermint-drops and brandy-balls were wrapped in clean white paper, +and the names written in a thin Italian hand. John thanked her and +stowed them in his trousers pockets. + +"You'll give my love to Maria? I take it very kindly her letting you +come for me like this." + +"Oh, as for that--" began John, and broke off; "I don't call to mind +that ever I saw a more handsome morning for the time o' year." + +They had made this expedition together more than a score of times, and +always found the same difficulty in conversing. The boat moved easily +past the town, the jetties above it, and the vessels that lay off them +awaiting their cargoes; it turned the corner and glided by woods where +the larches were green, the sycamores dusted with bronze, the wild +cherry-trees white with blossom, and all voluble. Every little bird +seemed ready to burst his throat that morning with the deal he had to +say. But these two--the man especially--had nothing to say, yet ached +for words. + +"Nance Treweek's married," the woman managed to tell him at last. + +"I was thinking it likely, by the way she carried on last Maying." + +"That wasn' the man. She've kept company with two since him, and +mated with a fourth man altogether--quite a different sort, in the +commercial traveller line." + +"Did he wear a seal weskit?" + +"Well, he might have; but not to my knowledge. What makes you ask?" + +"Because I used to know a Johnny Fortnight that wore one in these +parts; and I thought it might be he, belike." + +"Jim had a greater gift o' speech than you can make pretence to," said +the woman abruptly. "I often wonder that of two twin-brothers one +should be so glib and t'other so mum-chance." + +"'Tis the Lord's ways," the man answered, resting on his oars. "Will +you be dabblin' your feet as usual, Sarah?" + +"Why not?" + +He turned the boat's nose to a small landing-place cut in the solid +rock, where a straight pathway dived between hazel-bushes and appeared +again twenty feet above, winding inland around the knap of a green +hill. Here he helped her to disembark, and waited with his back to +the shore. The spinster behind the hazel screen pulled off shoes and +stockings, and paddled about for a minute in the dewy grass that +fringed the meadow's lower slope. Then, drawing a saucer from her +reticule, she wrung some dew into it and bathed her face. Ten minutes +later she re-appeared on the river's bank. + +"A happy May, John!" + +"A happy May to _you_, Sarah!" + +John stepped out beside her, and making his boat fast, followed her +up the narrow path and around the shoulder of the steep meadow. They +overed a stile, then a second, and were among pink slopes of orchards +in bloom. Ahead of them a church tower rose out of soft billows of +apple-blossom, and above the tower a lark was singing. A child +came along the footpath from the village with two garlands mounted +cross-wise on a pole and looped together with strings of painted +birds' eggs. John gave him a penny for his show. + +"Here's luck to your lass!" said the wise child. + +Sarah was pleased, and added a second penny from her reticule. The boy +spat on it for luck, slipped it into his breeches pocket, and went on +his way skipping. + +They stood still and looked after him for some moments, out of pure +pleasure in his good humour; then descended among the orchards to the +village. Half-way up the street stood the inn, the Flowing Source, +with whitewashed front and fuchsia-trees that reached to the +first-floor windows; and before it a well enclosed with a round stone +wall, over which the toadflax spread in a tangle. Around the well, +in the sunshine, were set a dozen or more small tables, covered with +white cloths, and two score at least of young people eating bread and +cream and laughing. The landlady, a broad woman in a blue print gown, +and large apron, came forward. + +"Why, Miss Sarah, I'd nigh 'pon given you up. Your table's been spread +this hour, an' at last I was forced to ask some o' the young folks if +you was dead or no." + +"Why should I be dead more than another?" + +"Well, well--in the midst o' life, we're told. 'Tisn' only the ripe +apples that the wind scatters. He that comes by your side to-day is +but twin-brother to him that came wi' you the first time I mind 'ee, +seemin' but yesterday. Eh, Miss Sarah, but I envied 'ee then, sittin' +wi' hand in hand, an' but one bite taken out o' your bread an' cream; +but I was just husband-high myself i' those days, an' couldn't make +the men believe it." + +"Mary Ann Jacobs," Miss Sarah broke out, "if 'twas not for the quality +of your cream, I'd go a-mayin' elsewhere, for I can truly say I hate +your way of talkin' from the bottom of my soul." + +"Sarah," said John, wiping his mouth as he finished his bread and +cream, "I'm a glum man, as you well know; an' why Providence drowned +poor Jim, when it might have taken his twin image that hadn' half his +mouth--speech, is past findin' out. But 'tis generally allowed that +the grip o' my hand is uncommon like what Jim's used to be; an' when I +gets home to-night, the first thing my old woman'll be sure to ask is +'Did 'ee give Sarah poor Jim's hand-clasp?'--an' what to say I shan't +know, unless you honours me so far." + +"'Tis uncommon good of Maria," said the woman simply, and stole her +thin hand into his horny palm. She had done so, in answer to the same +speech, more than twenty times. + +"Not at all," said John. + +His fingers closed over hers, and rested so. All but a few of the +mayers had risen from the table, and were romping and chasing each +other back to the boats, for the majority were shop-girls and +apprentices, and must be back in time for business. But Miss Sarah was +in no hurry. + +"Not yet," she entreated, as John's grasp began to relax. He tightened +it again and waited, while she leant back, breathing short, with +half-closed eyes. + +At length she said he might release her. + +"I'm sure 'tis uncommon kind of Maria," she repeated. + +"I don't see where the kindness comes in. Maria can have as good any +day o' the year, an' don't appear to value it to that extent." + +They walked back through the orchards in silence. At Miss Sarah's +quay-door they parted, and John hoisted sail for his home around the +corner of the coast. + + + + +DAPHNIS. + + _Has olim exuvias mihi perfidus ille reliquit, + Pignora cara sui: quae nunc ego limine in ipso, + Terra, tibi mando; debent haec pignora Daphnin-- + Ducite ab urbe domum, mea, carmina, ducite Daphnin_. + + +I knew the superstition lingered along the country-side: and I was +sworn to find it. But the labourers and their wives smoothed all +intelligence out of their faces as soon as I began to hint at it. Such +is the way of them. They were my good friends, but had no mind to help +me in this. Nobody who has not lived long with them can divine the +number of small incommunicable mysteries and racial secrets chambered +in their inner hearts and guarded by their hospitable faces. These +alone the Celt withholds from the Saxon, and when he dies they are +buried with him. + +A chance word or two of my old nurse, by chance caught in some cranny +of a child's memory and recovered after many days, told me that the +charm was still practised by the woman-folk, or had been practised not +long before her death. So I began to hunt for it, and, almost as soon, +to believe the search hopeless. The new generation of girls, with +their smart frocks, in fashion not more than six months behind London, +their Board School notions, and their consuming ambition to "look +like a lady"--were these likely to cherish a local custom as rude and +primitive as the long-stone circles on the tors above? But they were +Cornish; and of that race it is unwise to judge rashly. For years I +had never a clue: and then, by Sheba Farm, in a forsaken angle of the +coast, surprised the secret. + +Sheba Farm stands high above Ruan sands, over which its windows flame +at sunset. And I sat in the farm kitchen drinking cider and eating +potato-cake, while the farmer's wife, Mrs. Bolverson, obligingly +attended to my coat, which had just been soaked by a thunder-shower. +It was August, and already the sun beat out again, fierce and strong. +The bright drops that gemmed the tamarisk-bushes above the wall of the +town-place were already fading under its heat; and I heard the voices +of the harvesters up the lane, as they returned to the oat-field +whence the storm had routed them. A bright parallelogram stretched +from the window across the white kitchen-table, and reached the dim +hollow of the open fire-place. Mrs. Bolverson drew the towel-horse, on +which my coat was stretched, between it and the wood fire, which (as +she held) the sunshine would put out. + +"It's uncommonly kind of you, Mrs. Bolverson," said I, as she turned +one sleeve of the coat towards the heat. "To be sure, if the women in +these parts would speak out, some of them have done more than that for +the men with an old coat." + +She dropped the sleeve, faced round, and eyed me. + +"What do you know of that?" she asked slowly, and as if her chest +tightened over the words. She was a woman of fifty and more, of fine +figure but a worn face. Her chief surviving beauty was a pile of light +golden hair, still lustrous as a girl's. But her blue eyes--though now +they narrowed on me suspiciously--must have looked out magnificently +in their day. + +"I fancy," said I, meeting them frankly enough, "that what you know +and I don't on that matter would make a good deal." + +She laughed harshly, almost savagely. + +"You'd better ask Sarah Gedye, across the coombe. She buried a man's +clothes one time, and--it might be worth your while to ask her what +came o't." + +If you can imagine a glint of moonlight running up the blade of +a rapier, you may know the chill flame of spite and despite that +flickered in her eyes then as she spoke. + +"I take my oath," I muttered to myself, "I'll act on the invitation." + +The woman stood straight upright, with her hands clasped behind her, +before the deal table. She gazed, under lowered brows, straight out of +window; and following that gaze, I saw across the coombe a mean +mud hut, with a wall around it, that looked on Sheba Farm with the +obtrusive humility of a poor relation. + +"Does she--does Sarah Gedye--live down yonder?" + +"What is that to you?" she enquired fiercely, and then was silent for +a moment, and added, with another short laugh-- + +"I reckon I'd like the question put to her: but I doubt you've got the +pluck." + +"You shall see," said I; and taking my coat off the towel-horse, I +slipped it on. + +She did not turn, did not even move her head, when I thanked her for +the shelter and walked out of the house. + +I could feel those steel-blue eyes working like gimlets into my back +as I strode down the hill and passed the wooden plank that lay across +the stream at its foot. A climb of less than a minute brought me to +the green gate in the wall of Sarah Gedye's garden patch; and here I +took a look backwards and upwards at Sheba. The sun lay warm on its +white walls, and the whole building shone against the burnt hillside. +It was too far away for me to spy Mrs. Bolverson's blue print gown +within the kitchen window, but I knew that she stood there yet. + +The sound of a footstep made me turn. A woman was coming round the +corner of the cottage, with a bundle of mint in her hand. + +She looked at me, shook off a bee that had blundered against her +apron, and looked at me again--a brown woman, lean and strongly made, +with jet-black eyes set deep and glistening in an ugly face. + +"You want to know your way?" she asked. + +"No. I came to see you, if your name is Sarah Gedye." + +"Sarah Ann Gedye is my name. What 'st want?" + +I took a sudden resolution to tell the exact truth. + +"Mrs. Gedye, the fact is I am curious about an old charm that was +practised in these parts, as I know, till recently. The charm is +this--When a woman guesses her lover to be faithless to her, she +buries a suit of his old clothes to fetch him back to her. Mrs. +Bolverson, up at Sheba yonder--" + +The old woman had opened her mouth (as I know now) to curse me. But +as Mrs. Bolverson's name escaped me, she turned her back, and walked +straight to her door and into the kitchen. Her manner told me that I +was expected to follow. + +But I was not prepared for the face she turned on me in the shadow of +the kitchen. It was grey as wood-ash, and the black eyes shrank into +it like hot specks of fire. + +"She--_she_ set you on to ask me that?" She caught me by the coat and +hissed out: "Come back from the door--don't let her see." Then she +lifted up her fist, with the mint tightly clutched in it, and shook it +at the warm patch of Sheba buildings across the valley. + +"May God burn her bones, as He has smitten her body barren!" + +"What do you know of this?" she cried, turning upon me again. + +"I know nothing. That I have offered you some insult is clear: but--" + +"Nay, you don't know--you don't know. No man would be such a hound. +You don't know; but, by the Lord, you shall hear, here where you'm +standin', an' shall jedge betwix' me an' that pale 'ooman up yonder. +Stand there an' list to me. + +"He was my lover more'n five-an'-thirty years agone. Who? That +'ooman's wedded man, Seth Bolverson. We warn't married"--this with +a short laugh. "Wife or less than wife, he found me to his mind. +She--she that egged you on to come an' flout me--was a pale-haired +girl o' seventeen or so i' those times--a church-goin' mincin' strip +of a girl--the sort you men-folk bow the knee to for saints. Her +father owned Sheba Farm, an' she look'd across on my man, an' had envy +on 'en, an' set her eyes to draw 'en. Oh, a saint she was! An' he, the +poor shammick, went. 'Twas a good girl, you understand, that wished +for to marry an' reform 'en. She had money, too. _I_? I'd ha' poured +out my blood for 'en: that's all I cud do. So he went. + +"As the place shines this day, it shone then. Like a moth it drew 'en. +Late o' summer evenin's its windeys shone when down below here 'twas +chill i' the hill's shadow. An' late at night the candles burned up +there as he courted her. Purity and cosiness, you understand, an' down +here--he forgot about down here. Before he'd missed to speak to me for +a month, I'd hear 'en whistlin' up the hill, so merry as a grig. Well, +he married her. + +"They was married three months, an' 'twas harvest time come round, an' +I in his vield a-gleanin'. For I was suffered near to that extent, +seem' that the cottage here had been my fathers', an' was mine, an' +out o't they culdn' turn me. One o' the hands, as they was pitchin', +passes me an empty keg, an' says, 'Run you to the farm-place an' get +it filled.' So with it I went to th' kitchen, and while I waited +outside I sees his coat an' wesket 'pon a peg i' the passage. Well I +knew the coat; an' a madness takin' me for all my loss, I unhitched it +an' flung it behind the door, an', the keg bein' filled, picked it up +agen and ran down home-along. + +"No thought had I but to win Seth back. 'Twas the charm you spoke +about: an' that same midnight I delved a hole by the dreshold an' +buried the coat, whisperin', '_Man, come back, come back to me_!' as +Aun' Lesnewth had a-taught me, times afore. + +"But she, the pale woman, had a-seen me, dro' a chink o' the +parlour-door, as I tuk the coat down. An' she knowed what I tuk it +for. I've a-read it, times and again, in her wifely eyes; an' to-day +you yoursel' are witness that she knowed. If Seth knowed--" + +She clenched and unclenched her fist, and went on rapidly. + +"Early next mornin', and a'most afore I was dressed, two constables +came in by the gate, an' she behind 'em treadin' delicately, an' _he_ +at her back, wi' his chin dropped. They charged me wi' stealin' that +coat--wi' stealin' it--that coat that I'd a-darned an' patched years +afore ever _she_ cuddled against its sleeve!" + +"What happened?" I asked, as her voice sank and halted. + +"What happened? She looked me i' the eyes scornfully; an' her own were +full o' knowledge. An' wi' her eyes she coaxed and dared me to abase +mysel' an' speak the truth an' win off jail. An' I, that had stole +nowt, looked back at her an' said, 'It's true. I stole the coat. Now +cart me off to jail; but handle me gently for the sake o' my child +unborn.' When I spoke these last two words an' saw her face draw up +wi' the bitterness o' their taste, I held out my wrists and clapped +the handcuffs together like cymbals and laughed wi' a glad heart." + +She caught my hand suddenly, and drawing me to the porch, pointed high +above Sheba, to the yellow upland where the harvesters moved. + +"Do 'ee see 'en there?--that tall young man by the hedge--there where +the slope dips? That's my son, Seth's son, the straightest man among +all. Neither spot has he, nor wart, nor blemish 'pon his body; and +when she pays 'en his wages, Saturday evenin's, he says 'Thank 'ee, +ma'am,' wi' a voice that's the very daps o' his father's. An' she's +childless. Ah, childless woman! Childless woman! Go back an' carry +word to her o' the prayer I've spoken upon her childlessness." + +And "Childless woman!" "Childless woman!" she called twice again, +shaking her fist at the windows of Sheba Farm-house, that blazed back +angrily against the westering sun. + + + + +WHEN THE SAP ROSE. + +A FANTASIA. + + +An old yellow van--the _Comet_--came jolting along the edge of the +downs and shaking its occupants together like peas in a bladder. The +bride and bridegroom did not mind this much; but the Registrar of +Births, Deaths, and Marriages, who had bound them in wedlock at the +Bible Christian Chapel two hours before, was discomforted by a pair +of tight boots, that nipped cruelly whenever he stuck out his feet to +keep his equilibrium. + +Nevertheless, his mood was genial, for the young people had taken his +suggestion and acquired a copy of their certificate. This meant five +extra shillings in his pocket. Therefore, when the van drew up at +the cross-roads for him to alight, he wished them long life and a +multitude of children with quite a fatherly air. + +"You can't guess where I'm bound for. It's to pay my old mother a +visit. Ah, family life's the pretty life--that ever _I_ should say +it!" + +They saw no reason why he should be cynical, more than other men. And +the bride, in whose eyes this elderly gentleman with the tight boots +appeared a rosy winged Cupid, waved her handkerchief until the vehicle +had sidled round the hill, resembling in its progress a very infirm +crab in a hurry. + +As a fact, the Registrar wore a silk hat, a suit of black +West-of-England broadcloth, a watch-chain made out of his dead wife's +hair, and two large seals that clashed together when he moved. +His face was wide and round, with a sanguine complexion, grey +side-whiskers, and a cicatrix across the chin. He had shaved in a +hurry that morning, for the wedding was early, and took place on the +extreme verge of his district. His is a beautiful office--recording +day by day the solemnest and most mysterious events in nature. Yet, +standing at the cross-roads, between down and woodland, under an April +sky full of sun and south-west wind, he threw the ugliest shadow in +the landscape. + +The road towards the coast dipped--too steeply for tight boots--down a +wooded coombe, and he followed it, treading delicately. The hollow of +the V ahead, where the hills overlapped against the pale blue, was +powdered with a faint brown bloom, soon to be green--an infinity +of bursting buds. The larches stretched their arms upwards, as men +waking. The yellow was out on the gorse, with a heady scent like a +pineapple's, and between the bushes spread the grey film of coming +blue-bells. High up, the pines sighed along the ridge, turning paler; +and far down, where the brook ran, a mad duet was going on between +thrush and chaffinch--"_Cheer up, cheer up, Queen!" "Clip clip, clip, +and kiss me--Sweet_!"--one against the other. + +Now, the behaviour of the Registrar of Births, Deaths, and Marriages +changed as he descended the valley. At first he went from side to +side, because the loose stones were sharp and lay unevenly; soon he +zig-zagged for another purpose--to peer into the bank for violets, to +find a gap between the trees where, by bending down with a hand +on each knee and his head tilted back, he could see the primroses +stretching in broad sheets to the very edge of the pine-woods. By +frequent tilting his collar broke from its stud and his silk hat +settled far back on his neck. Next he unbuttoned his waistcoat and +loosened his braces; but no, he could not skip--his boots were too +tight. He looked at each tree as he passed. "If I could only see"--he +muttered. "I'll swear there used to be one on the right, just here." + +But he could not find it here--perhaps his memory misgave him--and +presently turned with decision, climbed the low fence on his left, +between him and the hollow of the coombe, and dropped into the +plantation on the other side. Here the ground was white in patches +with anemones; and as his feet crushed them, descending, the babel of +the birds grew louder and louder. + +He issued on a small clearing by the edge of the brook, where the +grass was a delicate green, each blade pushing up straight as a +spear-point from the crumbled earth. Here were more anemones, between +patches of last year's bracken, and on the further slope a mass of +daffodils. He pulled out a pocket-knife that had sharpened some +hundreds of quill pens, and looking to his right, found what he wanted +at once. + +It was a sycamore, on which the buds were swelling. He cut a small +twig, as big round as his middle finger, and sitting himself down on a +barked log, close by, began to measure and cut it to a span's length, +avoiding all knots. Then, taking the knife by the blade between finger +and thumb, he tapped the bark gently with the tortoise-shell handle. +And as he tapped, his face went back to boyhood again, in spite of the +side-whiskers, and his mouth was pursed up to a silent tune. + +For ten minutes the tapping continued; the birds ceased their +contention, and broke out restlessly at intervals. A rabbit across +the brook paused and listened at the funnel-shaped mouth of his hole, +which caught the sound and redoubled it. + +"Confound these boots!" said the Registrar, and pulling them off, +tossed them among the primroses. They were "elastic-sides." + +The tapping ceased. A breath of the land-ward breeze came up, combing +out the tangle that winter had made in the grass, caught the brook on +the edge of a tiny fall, and puffed it back six inches in a spray of +small diamonds. It quickened the whole copse. The oak-saplings rubbed +their old leaves one on another, as folks rub their hands, feeling +life and warmth; the chestnut-buds groped like an infant's fingers; +and the chorus broke out again, the thrush leading--"_Tiurru, tiurru, +chippewee; tio-tee, tio-tee; queen, queen, que-een_!" + +In a moment or two he broke off suddenly, and a honey-bee shot out +of an anemone-bell like a shell from a mortar. For a new sound +disconcerted them--a sound sharp and piercing. The Registrar had +finished his whistle and was blowing like mad, moving his fingers +up and down. Having proved his instrument, he dived a hand into his +tail-pocket and drew out a roll, tied around with ribbon. It was the +folded leather-bound volume in which he kept his blank certificates. +And spreading it on his knees, he took his whistle again and blew, +reading his music from the blank pages, and piping a strain he had +never dreamed of. For he whistled of Births and Marriages. + +O, happy Registrar! O, happy, happy Registrar! You will never get into +those elastic-sides again. Your feet swell as they tap the swelling +earth, and at each tap the flowers push, the sap climbs, the speck of +life moves in the hedge-sparrow's egg; while, far away on the downs, +with each tap, the yellow van takes bride and groom a foot nearer +felicity. It is hard work in worsted socks, for you smite with the +vehemence of Pan, and Pan had a hoof of horn. + + * * * * * + +The Registrar's mother lived in the fishing-village, two miles down +the coombe. Her cottage leant back against the cliff so closely, that +the boys, as they followed the path above, could toss tabs of turf +down her chimney: and this was her chief annoyance. + +Now, it was close on the dinner-hour, and she stood in her kitchen +beside a pot of stew that simmered over the wreck-wood fire. + +Suddenly a great lump of earth and grass came bouncing down the +chimney, striking from side to side, and soused into the pot, +scattering the hot stew over the hearth-stone and splashing her from +head to foot. + +Quick as thought, she caught up a besom and rushed out around the +corner of the cottage. + +"You stinking young adders!" she began. + +A big man stood on the slope above her. + +"Mother, cuff my head, that's a dear. I couldn' help doin' it." + +It was the elderly Registrar. His hat, collar, tie, and waistcoat were +awry; his boots were slung on the walking-stick over his shoulder; +stuck in his mouth and lit was a twist of root-fibre, such as country +boys use for lack of cigars, and he himself had used, forty years +before. + +The old woman turned to an ash-colour, leant on her besom, and gasped. + +"William Henry!" + +"I'm not drunk, mother: been a Band of Hope these dozen years." He +stepped down the slope to her and bent his head low. "Box my ears, +mother, quick! You used to have a wonderful gift o' cuffin'." + +"William Henry, I'm bound to do it or die." + +"Then be quick about it." + +Half-laughing, half-sobbing, she caught him a feeble cuff, and next +instant held him close to her old breast. The Registrar disengaged +himself after a minute, brushed his eyes, straightened his hat, picked +up the besom, and offered her his arm. They passed into the cottage +together. + + + + +THE PAUPERS + + +I. + +[Greek: ou men gar tou ge kreisson kai areion, ae hoth homophroneonte +noaemasin oikon echaeton anaer aede gunae.] + + +Round the skirts of the plantation, and half-way down the hill, there +runs a thick fringe of wild cherry-trees. Their white blossom makes, +for three weeks in the year, a pretty contrast with the larches and +Scotch firs that serrate the long ridge above; and close under their +branches runs the line of oak rails that marks off the plantation from +the meadow. + +A labouring man came deliberately round the slope, as if following +this line of rails. As a matter of fact, he was treading the +little-used footpath that here runs close alongside the fence for +fifty yards before diverging down-hill towards the village. So narrow +is this path that the man's boots were powdered to a rich gold by the +buttercups they had brushed aside. + +By-and-bye he came to a standstill, looked over the fence, and +listened. Up among the larches a faint chopping sound could just be +heard, irregular but persistent. The man put a hand to his mouth, and +hailed-- + +"Hi-i-i! Knock off! Stable clock's gone noo-oon!" + +Came back no answer. But the chopping ceased at once; and this +apparently satisfied the man, who leaned against the rail and waited, +chewing a spear of brome-grass, and staring steadily, but incuriously, +at his boots. Two minutes passed without stir or sound in this corner +of the land. The human figure was motionless. The birds in the +plantation were taking their noonday siesta. A brown butterfly rested, +with spread wings, on the rail--so quietly, he might have been pinned +there. + +A cracked voice was suddenly lifted a dozen yards off, and within the +plantation-- + +"Such a man as I be to work! Never heard a note o' that blessed clock, +if you'll believe me. Ab-sorbed, I s'pose." + +A thin withered man in a smock-frock emerged from among the +cherry-trees with a bill-hook in his hand, and stooped to pass under +the rail. + +"Ewgh! The pains I suffer in that old back of mine you'll never +believe, my son, not till the appointed time when you come to suffer +'em yoursel'. Well-a-well! Says I just now, up among the larches, +'Heigh, my sonny-boys, I can crow over you, anyways; for I was a man +grown when Squire planted ye; and here I be, a lusty gaffer, markin' +ye down for destruction.' But hullo! where's the dinner?" + +"There bain't none." + +"Hey?" + +"There bain't none." + +"How's that? Damme! William Henry, dinner's dinner, an' don't you joke +about it. Once you begin to make fun o' sacred things like meals and +vittles--" + +"And don't you flare up like that, at your time o' life. We're +fashionists to-day: dining out. 'Quarter after nine this morning I was +passing by the Green wi' the straw-cart, when old Jan Trueman calls +after me, 'Have 'ee heard the news?'' What news?' says I. 'Why,' says +he, 'me an' my missus be going into the House this afternoon--can't +manage to pull along by ourselves any more,' he says; 'an' we wants +you an' your father to drop in soon after noon an' take a bite wi' us, +for old times' sake. 'Tis our last taste o' free life, and we'm going +to do the thing fittywise,' he says." + +The old man bent a meditative look on the village roofs below. + +"We'll pleasure 'en, of course," he said slowly. "So 'tis come round +to Jan's turn? But a' was born in the year of Waterloo victory, ten +year' afore me, so I s'pose he've kept his doom off longer than most." + +The two set off down the footpath. There is a stile at the foot of the +meadow, and as he climbed it painfully, the old man spoke again. + +"And his doorway, I reckon, 'll be locked for a little while, an' then +opened by strangers; an' his nimble youth be forgot like a flower o' +the field; an' fare thee well, Jan Trueman! Maria, too--I can mind her +well as a nursing mother--a comely woman in her day. I'd no notion +they'd got this in their mind." + +"Far as I can gather, they've been minded that way ever since their +daughter Jane died, last fall." + +From the stile where they stood they could look down into the village +street. And old Jan Trueman was plain to see, in clean linen and his +Sunday suit, standing in the doorway and welcoming his guests. + +"Come ye in--come ye in, good friends," he called, as they approached. +"There's cold bekkon, an' cold sheep's liver, an' Dutch cheese, +besides bread, an' a thimble-full o' gin-an'-water for every soul +among ye, to make it a day of note in the parish." + +He looked back over his shoulder into the kitchen. A dozen men and +women, all elderly, were already gathered there. They had brought +their own chairs. Jan's wife wore her bonnet and shawl, ready to start +at a moment's notice. Her luggage in a blue handkerchief lay on the +table. As she moved about and supplied her guests, her old lips +twitched nervously; but when she spoke it was with no unusual tremor +of the voice. + +"I wish, friends, I could ha' cooked ye a little something hot; but +there'd be no time for the washing-up, an' I've ordained to leave the +place tidy." + +One of the old women answered-- + +"There's nought to be pardoned, I'm sure. Never do I mind such a gay +set-off for the journey. For the gin-an'-water is a little addition +beyond experience. The vittles, no doubt, you begged up at the +Vicarage, sayin' you'd been a peck o' trouble to the family, but this +was going to be the last time." + +"I did, I did," assented Mr. Trueman. + +"But the gin-an'-water--how on airth you contrived it is a riddle!" + +The old man rubbed his hands together and looked around with genuine +pride. + +"There was old Miss Scantlebury," said another guest, a smock-frocked +gaffer of seventy, with a grizzled shock of hair. "You remember Miss +Scantlebury?" + +"O' course, o' course." + +"Well, she did it better 'n anybody I've heard tell of. When she fell +into redooced circumstances she sold the eight-day clock that was the +only thing o' value she had left. Brown o' Tregarrick made it, with +a very curious brass dial, whereon he carved a full-rigged ship that +rocked like a cradle, an' went down stern foremost when the hour +struck. 'Twas worth walking a mile to see. Brown's grandson bought +it off Miss Scantlebury for two guineas, he being proud of his +grandfather's skill; an' the old lady drove into Tregarrick Work'us +behind a pair o' greys wi' the proceeds. Over and above the carriage +hire, she'd enough left to adorn the horse wi' white favours an' give +the rider a crown, large as my lord. Aye, an' at the Work'us door she +said to the fellow, said she, 'All my life I've longed to ride in a +bridal chariot; an' though my only lover died of a decline when I was +scarce twenty-two, I've done it at last,' said she; 'an' now heaven +an' airth can't undo it!'" + +A heavy silence followed this anecdote, and then one or two of the +women vented small disapproving coughs. The reason was the speaker's +loud mention of the Workhouse. A week, a day, a few-hours before, its +name might have been spoken in Mr. and Mrs. Trueman's presence. But +now they had entered its shadow; they were "going"--whether to the dim +vale of Avilion, or with chariot and horses of fire to heaven, let +nobody too curiously ask. If Mr. and Mrs. Trueman chose to speak +definitely, it was another matter. + +Old Jan bore no malice, however, but answered, "That beats me, I own. +Yet we shall drive, though it be upon two wheels an' behind a single +horse. For Farmer Lear's driving into Tregarrick in an hour's time, +an' he've a-promised us a lift." + +"But about that gin-an'-water? For real gin-an'-water it is, to sight +an' taste." + +"Well, friends, I'll tell ye: for the trick may serve one of ye in the +days when you come to follow me, tho' the new relieving officer may +have learnt wisdom before then. You must know we've been considering +of this step for some while, but hearing that old Jacobs was going to +retire soon, I says to Maria, 'We'll bide till the new officer comes, +and if he's a green hand, we'll diddle 'en.' Day before yesterday,' as +you, was his first round at the work; so I goes up an' draws out my +ha'af-crown same as usual, an' walks straight off for the Four Lords +for a ha'af-crown's worth o' gin. Then back I goes, an' demands +an admission order for me an' the missus. 'Why, where's your +ha'af-crown?' says he. 'Gone in drink,' says I. 'Old man,' says he, +'you'm a scandal, an' the sooner you're put out o' the way o' drink, +the better for you an' your poor wife.' 'Right you are,' I says; an' I +got my order. But there, I'm wasting time; for to be sure you've most +of ye got kith and kin in the place where we'm going, and 'll be +wanting to send 'em a word by us." + + * * * * * + +It was less than an hour before Farmer Lear pulled up to the door in +his red-wheeled spring-cart. + +"Now, friends," said Mrs. Trueman, as her ears caught the rattle of +the wheels, "I must trouble ye to step outside while I tidy up the +floor." + +The women offered their help, but she declined it. Alone she put the +small kitchen to rights, while they waited outside around the door. +Then she stepped out with her bundle, locked the door after her, and +slipped the key under an old flower-pot on the window ledge. Her eyes +were dry. + +"Come along, Jan." + +There was a brief hand-shaking, and the paupers climbed up beside +Farmer Lear. + +"I've made a sort o' little plan in my head," said old Jan at parting, +"of the order in which I shall see ye again, one by one. 'Twill be a +great amusement to me, friends, to see how the fact fits in wi' my +little plan." + +The guests raised three feeble cheers as the cart drove away, and hung +about for several minutes after it had passed out of sight, gazing +along the road as wistfully as more prosperous men look in through +churchyard gates at the acres where their kinsfolk lie buried. + + +II. + + +The first building passed by the westerly road as it descends into +Tregarrick is a sombre pile of some eminence, having a gateway and +lodge before it, and a high encircling wall. The sun lay warm on its +long roof, and the slates flashed gaily there, as Farmer Lear came +over the knap of the hill and looked down on it. He withdrew his eyes +nervously to glance at the old couple beside him. At the same moment +he reined up his dun-coloured mare. + +"I reckoned," he said timidly, "I reckoned you'd be for stopping +hereabouts an' getting down. You'd think it more seemly--that's what I +reckoned: an' 'tis down-hill now all the way." + +For ten seconds and more neither the man nor the woman gave a sign of +having heard him. The spring-cart's oscillatory motion seemed to have +entered into their spinal joints; and now that they had come to +a halt, their heads continued to wag forward and back as they +contemplated the haze of smoke spread, like a blue scarf over the +town, and the one long slate roof that rose from it as if to meet +them. At length the old woman spoke, and with some viciousness, though +her face remained as blank as the Workhouse door. + +"The next time I go back up this hill, if ever I do, I'll be carried +up feet first." + +"Maria," said her husband, feebly reproachful, "you tempt the Lord, +that you do." + +"Thank 'ee, Farmer Lear," she went on, paying no heed; "you shall +help us down, if you've a mind to, an' drive on. We'll make shift to +trickly 'way down so far as the gate; for I'd be main vexed if anybody +that had known me in life should see us creep in. Come along, Jan." + +Farmer Lear alighted, and helped them out carefully. He was a clumsy +man, but did his best to handle them gently. When they were set on +their feet, side by side on the high road, he climbed back, and fell +to arranging the reins, while he cast about for something to say. + +"Well, folks, I s'pose I must be wishing 'ee good-bye." He meant +to speak cheerfully, but over-acted, and was hilarious instead. +Recognising this, he blushed. + +"We'll meet in heaven, I daresay," the woman answered. "I put +the door-key, as you saw, under the empty geranium-pot 'pon the +window-ledge; an' whoever the new tenant's wife may be, she can eat +off the floor if she's minded. Now drive along, that's a good soul, +and leave us to fend for ourselves." + +They watched him out of sight before either stirred. The last decisive +step, the step across the Workhouse threshold, must be taken with none +to witness. If they could not pass out of their small world by the +more reputable mode of dying, they would at least depart with this +amount of mystery. They had left the village in Farmer Lear's cart, +and Farmer Lear had left them in the high road; and after that, +nothing should be known. + +"Shall we be moving on?" Jan asked at length. There was a gate beside +the road just there, with a small triangle of green before it, and +a granite roller half-buried in dock-leaves. Without answering, the +woman seated herself on this, and pulling a handful of the leaves, +dusted her shoes and skirt. + +"Maria, you'll take a chill that'll carry you off, sitting 'pon that +cold stone." + +"I don't care. 'Twon't carry me off afore I get inside, an' I'm going +in decent, or not at all. Come here, an' let me tittivate you." + +He sat down beside her, and submitted to be dusted. + +"You'd as lief lower me as not in their eyes, I verily believe." + +"I always was one to gather dust." + +"An' a fresh spot o' bacon-fat 'pon your weskit, that I've kept the +moths from since goodness knows when!" + +Old Jan looked down over his waistcoat. It was of good +"West-of-England broadcloth, and he had worn it on the day when he +married the woman at his side. + +"I'm thinking--" he began. + +"Hey?" + +"I'm thinking I'll find it hard to make friends in--in there. 'Tis +such a pity, to my thinking, that by reggilations we'll be parted so +soon as we get inside. You've a-got so used to my little ways +an' corners, an' we've a-got so many little secrets together an' +old-fash'ned odds an' ends o' knowledge, that you can take my meaning +almost afore I start to speak. An' that's a great comfort to a man o' +my age. It'll be terrible hard, when I wants to talk, to begin at the +beginning every time. There's that old yarn o' mine about Hambly's cow +an' the lawn-mowing machine--I doubt that anybody 'll enjoy it so +much as you always do; an' I've so got out o' the way o' telling the +beginning--which bain't extra funny, though needful to a stranger's +understanding the whole joke--that I 'most forgets how it goes." + +"We'll see one another now an' then, they tell me. The sexes meet for +Chris'mas-trees an' such-like." + +"I'm jealous that 'twon't be the same. You can't hold your triflin' +confabs with a great Chris'mas-tree blazin' away in your face as +important as a town afire." + +"Well, I'm going to start along," the old woman decided, getting on +her feet; "or else someone 'll be driving by and seeing us." + +Jan, too, stood up. + +"We may so well make our congees here," she went on, "as under the +porter's nose." + +An awkward silence fell between them for a minute, and these two old +creatures, who for more than fifty years had felt no constraint in +each other's presence, now looked into each other's eyes with a +fearful diffidence. Jan cleared his throat, much as if he had to make +a public speech. + +"Maria," he began in an unnatural voice, "we're bound for to part, and +I can trewly swear, on leaving ye, that--" + +"--that for two-score year and twelve It's never entered your head to +consider whether I've made 'ee a good wife or a bad. Kiss me, my old +man; for I tell 'ee I wouldn' ha' wished it other. An' thank 'ee for +trying to make that speech. What did it feel like?" + +"Why, 't rather reminded me o' the time when I offered 'ee marriage." + +"It reminded me o' that, too. Com'st along." + +They tottered down the hill towards the Workhouse gate. When they were +but ten yards from it, however, they heard the sound of wheels on +the road behind them, and walked bravely past, pretending to have no +business at that portal. They had descended a good thirty yards +beyond (such haste was put into them by dread of having their purpose +guessed) before the vehicle overtook them--a four-wheeled dog-cart +carrying a commercial traveller, who pulled up and offered them a lift +into the town. + +They declined. + +Then, as soon as he passed out of sight, they turned, and began +painfully to climb back towards the gate. Of the two, the woman had +shown the less emotion. But all the way her lips were at work, and as +she went she was praying a prayer. It was the only one she used night +and morning, and she had never changed a word since she learned it as +a chit of a child. Down to her seventieth year she had never found it +absurd to beseech God to make her "a good girl"; nor did she find it +so as the Workhouse gate opened, and she began a new life. + + + + +CUCKOO VALLEY RAILWAY + + +This century was still young and ardent when ruin fell upon Cuckoo +Valley. Its head rested on the slope of a high and sombre moorland, +scattered with granite and china-clay; and by the small town of +Ponteglos, where it widened out into arable and grey pasture-land, the +Cuckoo river grew deep enough to float up vessels of small tonnage +from the coast at the spring tides. I have seen there the boom of +a trading schooner brush the grasses on the river-bank as she came +before a southerly wind, and the haymakers stop and almost crick their +necks staring up at her top-sails. But between the moors and Ponteglos +the valley wound for fourteen miles or so between secular woods, so +steeply converging that for the most part no more room was left at the +bottom of the V than the river itself filled. The fisherman beside it +trampled on pimpernels, sundew, watermint, and asphodels, or pushed +between clumps of _Osmunda regalis_ that overtopped him by a couple of +feet. If he took to wading, there was much ado to stand against the +current. Only here and there it spread into a still black pool, +greased with eddies; and beside such a pool, it was odds that he found +a diminutive meadow, green and flat as a billiard-table, and edged +with clumps of fern. To think of Cuckoo Valley is to call up the smell +of that fern as it wrapped at the bottom of the creel the day's catch +of salmon-peal and trout. + +The town of Tregarrick (which possessed a gaol, a workhouse, and a +lunatic asylum, and called itself the centre of the Duchy) stood +three miles back from the lip of this happy valley, whither on summer +evenings its burghers rambled to eat cream and junket at the Dairy +Farm by the river bank, and afterwards sit to watch the fish rise, +while the youngsters and maidens played hide-and-seek in the woods. +But there came a day when the names of Watt and Stephenson waxed great +in the land, and these slow citizens caught the railway frenzy. +They took it, however, in their own fashion. They never dreamed of +connecting themselves with other towns and a larger world, but of +aggrandisement by means of a railway that should run from Tregarrick +to nowhere in particular, and bring the intervening wealth to their +doors. They planned a railway that should join Tregarrick with Cuckoo +Valley, and there divide into two branches, the one bringing ore and +clay from the moors, the other fetching up sand and coal from the sea. +Surveyors and engineers descended upon the woods; then a cloud of +navvies. The days were filled with the crash of falling timber and the +rush of emptied trucks. The stream was polluted, the fish died, the +fairies were evicted from their rings beneath the oak, the morals of +the junketing houses underwent change. The vale knew itself no longer; +its smoke went up week by week with the noise of pick-axes and oaths. + +On August 13th, 1834, the Mayor of Tregarrick declared the new line +open, and a locomotive was run along its rails to Dunford Bridge, at +the foot of the moors. The engine was christened _The Wonder of the +Age_; and I have before me a handbill of the festivities of that proud +day, which tells me that the mayor himself rode in an open truck, +"embellished with Union Jacks, lions and unicorns, and other loyal +devices." And then Nature settled down to heal her wounds, and the +Cuckoo Yalley Railway to pay no dividend to its promoters. + +It is now two years and more since, on an August day, I wound up my +line by Dunford Bridge, and sauntered towards the Light Horseman Inn, +two gunshots up the road. The time was four o'clock, or thereabouts, +and a young couple sat on a bench by the inn-door, drinking cocoa out +of one cup. Above their heads and along the house-front a vine-tree +straggled, but its foliage was too thin to afford a speck of shade as +they sat there in the eye of the westering sun. The man (aged about +one-and-twenty) wore the uncomfortable Sunday-best of a mechanic, +with a shrivelled, but still enormous, bunch of Sweet-William in his +buttonhole. The girl was dressed in a bright green gown and a white +bonnet. Both were flushed and perspiring, and I still think they must +have ordered hot cocoa in haste, and were repenting it at leisure. +They lifted their eyes and blushed with a yet warmer red as I passed +into the porch. + +Two men were seated in the cool tap-room, each with a pasty and a mug +of beer. A composition of sweat and coal-dust had caked their faces, +and so deftly smoothed all distinction out of their features that +it seemed at the moment natural and proper to take them for twins. +Perhaps this was an error: perhaps, too, their appearance of extreme +age was produced by the dark grey dust that overlaid so much of them +as showed above the table. As twins, however, I remember them, and +cannot shake off the impression that they had remained twins for an +unusual number of years. + +One addressed me. "Parties outside pretty comfortable?" he asked. + +"They were drinking out of the same cup," I answered. + +He nodded. "Made man and wife this mornin'. I don't fairly know +what's best to do. Lord knows I wouldn' hurry their soft looks and +dilly-dallyin'; but did 'ee notice how much beverage was left in the +cup?" + +"They was mated at Tregarrick, half-after-nine this mornin'," observed +the other twin, pulling out a great watch, "and we brought 'em +down here in a truck for their honeymoon. The agreement was for an +afternoon in the woods; but by crum! sir, they've sat there and held +one another's hand for up'ards of an hour after the stated time to +start. And we ha'nt the heart to tell 'em so." + +He walked across to the window and peered over the blind. + +"There's a mort of grounds in the cocoa that's sold here," he went +on, after a look, "and 'tisn't the sort that does the stomach good, +neither. For their own sakes, I'll give the word to start, and chance +their thankin' me some day later when they learn what things be made +of." + +The other twin arose, shook the crumbs off his trousers, and stretched +himself. I guessed now that this newly-married pair had delayed +traffic at the Dunford terminus of the Cuckoo Valley Railway for +almost an hour and a half; and I determined to travel into Tregarrick +by the same train. + +So we strolled out of the inn towards the line, the lovers following, +arm-in-arm, some fifty paces behind. + +"How far is it to the station?" I inquired. + +The twins stared at me. + +Presently we turned down a lane scored with dry ruts, passed an oak +plantation, and came on a clearing where the train stood ready. The +line did not finish: it ended in a heap of sand. There were eight +trucks, seven of them laden with granite, and an engine, with a +prodigiously long funnel, bearing the name _The Wonder of the Age_ in +brass letters along its boiler. + +"Now," said one of the twins, while the other raked up the furnace, +"you can ride in the empty truck with the lovers, or on the engine +along with us--which you like." + +I chose the engine. We climbed on board, gave a loud whistle, and +jolted oil. Far down, on our right, the river shone between the +trees, and these trees, encroaching on the track, almost joined their +branches above us. Ahead, the moss that grew upon the sleepers gave +the line the appearance of a green glade, and the grasses, starred +with golden-rod and mallow, grew tall to the very edge of the rails. +It seemed that in a few more years Nature would cover this scar +of 1834, and score the return match against man. Hails, engine, +officials, were already no better than ghosts: youth, and progress lay +in the pushing trees, the salmon leaping against the dam below, the +young man and maid sitting with clasped hands and amatory looks in the +hindmost truck. + +At the end of three miles or so we gave an alarming whistle, and +slowed down a bit. The trees were thinner here, and I saw that a +high-road came down the hill, and cut across our track some fifty +yards ahead. We prepared to cross it cautiously. + +"Ho-o-oy! Stop!" + +The brake was applied, and as we came to a standstill a party of men +and women descended the hill towards us. + +"'Tis Susan Warne's seventh goin' to be christen'd, by the look of +it," said the engine-driver beside me; "an', by crum! we've got the +Kimbly." + +The procession advanced. In the midst walked a stout woman, carrying a +baby in long clothes, and in front a man bearing in both hands a plate +covered with a white cloth. He stepped up beside the train, and, +almost before I had time to be astonished, a large yellow cake was +thrust into my hands. Engine-driver and stoker were also presented +with a cake apiece, and then the newly-married pair, who took and ate +with some shyness and giggling. + +"Is it a boy or a girl?" asked the stoker, with his mouth full. + +"A boy," the man answered; "and I count it good luck that you men of +modern ways should be the first we meet on our way to church. The +child 'll be a go-ahead if there's truth in omens." + +"You're right, naybour. We're the speediest men in this part of the +universe, I d' believe. Here's luck to 'ee, Susan Warne!" he piped +out, addressing one of the women; "an' if you want a name for your +seventh, you may christen 'en after the engine here, the _Wonder of +the Age_." + +We waved our hats and jolted off again towards Tregarrick. At the +end of the journey the railway officials declined to charge for +the pleasure of my company. But after some dispute, they agreed to +compromise by adjourning to the Railway Inn, and drinking prosperity +to Susan Warne's seventh. + + + + +THE CONSPIRACY ABOARD THE _MIDAS_. + + +"Are you going home to England? So am I. I'm Johnny; and I've never +been to England before, but I know all about it. There's great palaces +of gold and ivory--that's for the lords and bishops--and there's +Windsor Castle, the biggest of all, carved out of a single +diamond--that's for the queen. And she's the most beautiful lady in +the whole world, and feeds her peacocks and birds of paradise out of +a ruby cup. And there the sun is always shining, so that nobody wants +any candles. O, words would fail me if I endeavoured to convey to you +one-half of the splendours of that enchanted realm!" + +This last sentence tumbled so oddly from the childish lips, that I +could not hide a smile as I looked down on my visitor. He stood just +outside my cabin-door--a small serious boy of about eight, with long +flaxen curls hardly dry from his morning bath. In the pauses of +conversation he rubbed his head with a big bath-towel. His legs +and feet were bare, and he wore only a little shirt and velveteen +breeches, with scarlet ribbons hanging untied at the knees. + +"You're laughing!" + +I stifled the smile. + +"What were you laughing at?" + +"Why, you're wrong, little man, on just one or two points," I answered +evasively. + +"Which?" + +"Well, about the sunshine in England. The sun is not always shining +there, by any means." + +"I'm afraid you know very little about it," said the boy, shaking his +head. + +"Johnny! Johnny!" a voice called down the companion-ladder at this +moment. It was followed by a thin, weary-looking man, dressed in +carpet slippers and a suit of seedy black. I guessed his age at fifty, +but suspect now that the lines about his somewhat prim mouth were +traced there by sorrows rather than by years. He bowed to me shyly, +and addressed the boy. + +"Johnny, what are you doing here? in bare feet!" + +"Father, here is a man who says the sun doesn't always shine in +England." + +The man gave me a fleeting embarrassed glance, and echoed, as if to +shirk answering-- + +"In bare feet!" + +"But it does, doesn't it? Tell him that it does," the child insisted. + +Driven thus into a corner, the father turned his profile, avoiding my +eyes, and said dully-- + +"The sun is always shining in England." + +"Go on, father; tell him the rest." + +"--and the use of candles, except as a luxury, is consequently unknown +to the denizens of that favoured clime," he wound up, in the tone of a +man who repeats an old, old lecture. + +Johnny was turning to me triumphantly, when his father caught him by +the hand and led him back to his dressing. The movement was hasty, +almost rough. I stood at the cabin-door and looked after them. + +We were fellow-passengers aboard the _Midas_, a merchant barque of +near on a thousand tons, homeward bound from Cape Town; and we had +lost sight of the Table Mountain but a couple of days before. It was +the first week of the new year, and all day long a fiery sun made life +below deck insupportable. Nevertheless, though we three were the only +passengers on board, and lived constantly in sight of each other, it +was many days before I made any further acquaintance with Johnny and +his father. The sad-faced man clearly desired to avoid me, answering +my nod with a cold embarrassment, and clutching Johnny's hand whenever +the child called "Good-morning!" to me cordially. I fancied him +ashamed of his foolish falsehood; and I, on my side, was angry because +of it. The pair were for ever strolling backwards and forwards on +deck, or resting beneath the awning on the poop, and talking--always +talking. I fancied the boy was delicate; he certainly had a bad cough +during the first few days. But this went away as our voyage proceeded, +and his colour was rich and rosy. + +One afternoon I caught a fragment of their talk as they passed, Johnny +brightly dressed and smiling, his father looking even more shabby and +weary than usual. The man was speaking. + +"And Queen Victoria rides once a year through the streets of London on +her milk-white courser, to hear the nightingales sing in the Tower. +For when she came to the throne the Tower was full of prisoners, but +with a stroke of her sceptre she changed them all into song-birds. +Every year she releases fifty; and that is why they sing so +rapturously, because each one hopes his turn has come at last." + +I turned away. It was unconscionable to cram the child's mind +with these preposterous fables. I pictured the poor little chap's +disappointment when the bleak reality came to stare him in the face. +To my mind, his father was worse than an idiot, and I could hardly +bring myself to greet him next morning, when we met. + +My disgust did not seem to trouble him. In a timid way, even, his eyes +expressed satisfaction. For a week or two I let him alone, and then +was forced to speak. + +It happened in this way. We had spun merrily along the tail of the +S.E. trades and glided slowly to a standstill on a glassy ocean, and +beneath a sun that at noon left us shadowless. A fluke or two of wind +had helped us across the line; but now, in 2° 27' north latitude, the +_Midas_ slept like a turtle on the greasy sea. The heat of the near +African coast seemed to beat like steam against our faces. The pitch +bubbled like caviare in the seams of the white deck, and the shrouds +and ratlines ran with tears of tar. To touch the brass rail of the +poop was to blister the hand, to catch a whiff from the cook's galley +was to feel sick for ten minutes. The hens in their coops lay with +eyes glazed and gasped for air. If you hung forward over the bulwarks +you stared down into your own face. The sailors grumbled and cursed +and panted as they huddled forward under a second awning that was +rigged up to give them shade rather than coolness; for coolness was +not to be had. + +On the second afternoon of the calm I happened to pass this awning, +and glanced in. Pretty well all the men were there, lounging, with +shirts open and chests streaming with sweat; and in their midst on a +barrel, sat Johnny, with a flushed face. + +The boatswain--Gibbings by name--was speaking. I heard him say--"An' +the Lord Mayor 'll be down to meet us, sonny, at the docks, wi' his +five-an'-fifty black boys all ablowin' blowin' Hallelujarum on their +silver key-bugles. An' we'll be took in tow to the Mansh'n 'Ouse an' +fed--" here he broke off and passed the back of his hand across his +mouth, with a glance at the ship's cook, who had been driven from his +galley by the heat. But the cook had no suggestions to make. His soul +was still sick with the reek of the boiled pork and pease pudding he +had cooked two hours before under a torrid and vertical sun. + +"We'll put it at hokey-pokey, nothin' a lump, if you _don't_ mind, +sonny," the boatswain went on; "in a nice airy parlour painted white, +with a gilt chandelier an' gilt combings to the wainscot." His picture +of the Mansion House as he proceeded was drawn from his reading in +the Book of Revelations and his own recollections of Thames-side +gin-palaces and the saloons of passenger steamers, and gave the +impression of a virtuous gambling-hell. The whole crew listened +admiringly, and it seemed they were all in the stupid conspiracy. I +resolved, for Johnny's sake, to protest, and that very evening drew +Gibbings aside and expostulated with him. + +"Why," I asked, "lay up this cruel, this certain disappointment for +the little chap? Why yarn to him as if he were bound for the New +Jerusalem?" + +The boatswain stared at me point-blank, at first incredulously, then +with something like pity. + +"Why, sir, don't you know? Can't you see for yoursel'? It's because +he _is_ bound for the New Jeroosalem; because--bless his tender +soul!--that's all the land he'll ever touch." + +"Good Lord!" I cried. "Nonsense! His cough's better; and look at his +cheeks." + +"Ay--we knows that colour on this line. His cough's better, you say; +and I say this weather's killing him. You just wait for the nor'-east +trades." + +I left Gibbings, and after pacing up and down the deck a few times, +stepped to the bulwarks, where a dark figure was leaning and gazing +out over the black waters. Johnny was in bed; and a great shame swept +over me as I noted the appealing wretchedness of this lonely form. + +I stepped up and touched him softly on the arm. + +"Sir, I am come to beg your forgiveness." + +Next morning I joined the conspiracy. + +After his father, I became Johnny's most constant companion. "Father +disliked you at first," was the child's frank comment; "he said you +told fibs, but now he wants us to be friends." And we were excellent +friends. I lied from morning to night--lied glibly, grandly. +Sometimes, indeed, as I lay awake in my berth, a horror took me lest +the springs of my imagination should run dry. But they never did. As a +liar, I out-classed every man on board. + +But by-and-bye, as we caught the first draught of the trades, the boy +began to punctuate my fables with that hateful cough. This went on for +a week; and one day, in the midst of our short stroll, his legs gave +way under him. As I caught him in my arms, he looked up with a smile. + +"I'm very weak, you know. But it'll be all right when I get to +England." + +But it was not till we had passed well beyond the equatorial belt that +Johnny grew visibly worse. In a week he had to lie still on his couch +beneath the awning, and the patter of his feet ceased on the deck. The +captain, who was a bit of a doctor, said to me one day-- + +"He will never live to see England." + +But he did. + +It was a soft spring afternoon when the _Midas_ sighted the Lizard, +and Johnny was still with us, lying on his couch, though almost too +weak to move a limb. As the day wore on we lifted him once or twice to +look. + +"Can you see them quite plain?" he asked; "and the precious stones +hanging on the trees? And the palaces--and the white elephants?" + +I stared through my glass at the serpentine rocks and white-washed +lighthouse above them, all powdered with bronze and gold by the +sinking sun, and answered-- + +"Yes, they are all there." + +All that afternoon we were beside him, looking out and peopling the +shores of home with all manner of vain shows and pageants; and when +one man broke down another took his place. + +As the sun fell, and twilight drew on, the bright revolving lights on +the two towers suddenly flashed out their greeting. We were about to +carry the child below, for the air was chilly; but he saw the flash, +and held up a feeble hand. + +"What is that?" + +"Those two lights," I answered, telling my final lie, "are the +lanterns of Cormelian and Cormoran, the two Cornish giants. They'll +be standing on the shore to welcome us. See--each swings his lantern +round, and then for a moment it is dark; now wait a moment, and you'll +see the light again." + +"Ah!" said the child, with a smile and a little sigh, "it is good to +be--home!" + +And with that word on his lips, as he waited for the next flash, +Johnny stretched himself and died. + + + + +LEGENDS OF ST. PIRAN. + + +I.--SAINT PIRAN AND THE MILLSTONE. + +Should you visit the Blackmore tin-streamers on their feast-day, which +falls on Friday-in-Lide (that is to say, the first Friday in March), +you may note a truly Celtic ceremony. On that day the tinners pick out +the sleepiest boy in the neighbourhood and send him up to the highest +_bound_ in the works, with instructions to sleep there as long as he +can. And by immemorial usage the length of his nap will be the measure +of the tinners' afternoon siesta for twelve months to come. + +Now, this first week in March is St. Piran's week: and St. Piran is +the miners' saint. To him the Cornishmen owe not only their tin, which +he discovered on the spot, but also their divine laziness, which he +brought across from Ireland and naturalised here. And I learned his +story one day from an old miner, as we ate our bread and cheese +together on the floor of Wheal Tregobbin, while the Davy lamp between +us made wavering giants of our shadows on the walls of the adit, and +the sea moaned as it tossed on its bed, two hundred feet above. + + * * * * * + +St. Piran was a little round man; and in the beginning he dwelt on +the north coast of Ireland, in a leafy mill, past which a stream came +tumbling down to the sea. After turning the saint's mill-wheel, the +stream dived over a fall into the Lough below, and the _lul-ul-ur-r-r_ +of the water-wheel and fall was a sleepy music in the saint's ear noon +and night. + +It must not be imagined that the mill-wheel ground anything. No; it +went round merely for the sake of its music. For all St. Piran's +business was the study of objects that presented themselves to his +notice, or, as he called it, the "Rapture av Contemplation"; and as +for his livelihood, he earned it in the simplest way. The waters of +the Lough below possessed a peculiar virtue. You had only to sink a +log or stick therein, and in fifty years' time that log or stick would +be turned to stone. St. Piran was as quick as you are to divine the +possibilities of easy competence offered by this spot. He took time by +the forelock, and in half a century was fairly started in business. +Henceforward he passed all his days among the rocks above the fall, +whistling to himself while he whittled bits of cork and wood into +quaint shapes, attached them to string, weighted them with pebbles, +and lowered them over the fall into the Lough--whence, after +fifty years he would draw them forth, and sell them to the simple +surrounding peasantry at two hundred and fifty _per centum per annum_ +on the initial cost. + +It was a tranquil, lucrative employment, and had he stuck to the +Rapture of Contemplation, he might have ended his days by the fall. +But in an unlucky hour he undertook to feed ten Irish kings and their +armies for three weeks anend on three cows. Even so he might have +escaped, had he only failed. Alas! As it was, the ten kings had no +sooner signed peace and drunk together than they marched up to St. +Piran's door, and began to hold an Indignation Meeting. + +"What's ailing wid ye, then?" asked the saint, poking his head out at +the door; "out wid ut! Did I not stuff ye wid cow-mate galore when the +land was as nakud as me tonshure? But 'twas three cows an' a miracle +wasted, I'm thinkin'." + +"Faith, an' ye've said ut!" answered one of the kings. "Three cows +between tin Oirish kings! 'Tis insultin'! Arrah, now, make it foive, +St. Piran darlint!" + +"Now may they make your stummucks ache for that word, ye marautherin' +thieves av the world!" + +And St. Piran slammed the door in their faces. + +But these kings were Ulstermen, and took things seriously. So they +went off and stirred up the people: and the end was that one sunshiny +morning a dirty rabble marched up to the mill and laid hands on the +saint. On what charge, do you think? Why, for _Being without Visible +Means of Support!_ + +"There's me pethrifyin' spicimins!" cried the saint: and he tugged at +one of the ropes that stretched down into the Lough. + +"Indade!" answered one of the ten kings: "Bad luck to your spicimins!" +says he. + +"Fwhat's that ye're tuggin.' at?" asks a bystander. + +"Now the Holy Mother presarve your eyesight, Tim Coolin," answers St. +Piran, pulling it in, "if ye can't tell a plain millstone at foive +paces! I never asked ye to see _through_ ut," he added, with a +twinkle, for Tim had a plentiful lack of brains, and that the company +knew. + +Sure enough it was a millstone, and a very neat one; and the saint, +having raised a bit of a laugh, went on like a cheap-jack: + +"Av there's any gintleman prisunt wid an eye for millstones, I'll +throuble him to turn ut here. Me own make," says he, "jooled in wan +hole, an' dog-chape at fifteen shillin'--" + +He was rattling away in this style when somebody called out, "To think +av a millstone bein' a visible means av support!" And this time the +laugh turned against the saint. + +"St. Piran dear, ye've got to die," says the spokesman. + +"Musha, musha!"--and the saint set up a wail and wrung his hands. "An' +how's it goin' to be?" he asked, breaking off; "an' if 'tis by Shamus +O'Neil's blunderbust that he's fumblin' yondther, will I stand afore +or ahint ut? for 'tis fatal both ends, I'm thinkin', like Barney +Sullivan's mule. Wirra, wirra! May our souls find mercy, Shamus +O'Neil, for we'll both, be wantin' ut this day. Better for you, +Shamus, that this millstone was hung round your black neck, an' you +drownin' in the dept's av the Lough!" + +The words were not spoken before they all set up a shout. "The +millstone! the millstone!" "Sthrap him to ut!" "He's named his +death!"--and inside of three minutes there was the saint, strapped +down on his own _specimen_. + +"Wirra, wirra!" he cried, and begged for mercy; but they raised a +devastating shindy, and gave the stone a trundle. Down the turf it +rolled and rolled, and then _whoo!_ leaped over the edge of the fall +into space and down--down--till it smote the waters far below, and +knocked a mighty hole in them, and went under-- + +For three seconds only. The next thing that the rabble saw as they +craned over the cliff was St. Piran floating quietly out to sea on the +millstone, for all the world as if on a life-belt, and untying his +bonds to use for a fishing-line! You see, this millstone had been made +of cork originally, and was only half petrified; and the old boy had +just beguiled them. When he had finished undoing the cords, he stood +up and bowed to them all very politely. + +"Visible Manes av Support, me childher--merely Visible Manes av +Support!" he called back. + +'Twas a sunshiny day, and while St. Piran chuckled the sea twinkled +all over with the jest. As for the crowd on the cliff, it looked +for five minutes as if the saint had petrified them harder than the +millstone. Then, as Tim Coolin told his wife, Mary Dogherty, that same +evening, they dispersed promiscuously in groups of one each. + +Meanwhile, the tides were bearing St. Piran and his millstone out into +the Atlantic, and he whiffed for mackerel all the way. And on the +morrow a stiff breeze sprang up and blew him sou'-sou-west until he +spied land; and so he stepped ashore on the Cornish coast. + +In Cornwall he lived many years till he died: and to this day there +are three places named after him--Perranaworthal, Perranuthno and +Perranzabuloe. But it was in the last named that he took most delight, +because at Perranzabuloe (Perochia Sti. Pirani in Sabulo) there was +nothing but sand to distract him from the Study of Objects that +Presented Themselves to his Notice: for he had given up miracles. So +he sat on the sands and taught the Cornish people how to be idle. Also +he discovered tin for them; but that was an accident. + + +II.--SAINT PIRAN AND THE VISITATION. + +A full fifty years had St. Piran dwelt among the sandhills between +Perranzabuloe and the sea before any big rush of saints began to pour +into Cornwall: for 'twas not till the old man had discovered tin for +us that they sprang up thick as blackberries all over the county; so +that in a way St. Piran had only himself to blame when his idle ways +grew to be a scandal by comparison with the push and bustle of the +newcomers. + +Never a notion had he that, from Rome to Land's End, all his holy +brethren were holding up their hands over his case. He sat in his +cottage above the sands at Perranzabuloe and dozed to the hum of the +breakers, in charity with all his parishioners, to whom his money +was large as the salt wind; for his sleeping partnership in the +tin-streaming business brought him a tidy income. And the folk knew +that if ever they wanted religion, they had only to knock and ask for +it. + +But one fine morning, an hour before noon, the whole parish sprang to +its feet at the sound of a horn. The blast was twice repeated, and +came from the little cottage across the sands. + +"'Tis the blessed saint's cow-horn!" they told each other. "Sure the +dear man must be in the article of death!" And they hurried off to the +cottage, man, woman, and child: for 'twas thirty years at least since +the horn had last been sounded. + +They pushed open the door, and there sat St. Piran in his arm-chair, +looking good for another twenty years, but considerably flustered. His +cheeks were red, and his fingers clutched the cow-horn nervously. + +"Andrew Penhaligon," said he to the first man that entered, "go you +out and ring the church bell." + +Off ran Andrew Penhaligon. "But, blessed father of us," said one or +two, "we're all _here_! There's no call to ring the church bell, seem' +you're neither dead nor afire, blessamercy!" + +"Oh, if you're all here, that alters the case; for 'tis only a +proclamation I have to give out at present. To-morrow mornin'--Glory +be to God!--I give warnin' that Divine service will take place in the +parish church." + +"You're sartin you bain't feelin' poorly, St. Piran dear?" asked one +of the women. + +"Thank you, Tidy Mennear, I'm enjoyin' health. But, as I was sayin', +the parish church 'll be needed to-morrow, an' so you'd best set to +and clean out the edifice: for I'm thinkin'," he added, "it'll be +needin' that." + +"To be sure, St. Piran dear, we'll humour ye." + +"'Tisn' that at all," the saint answered; "but I've had a vision." + +"Don't you often?" + +"H'm! but this was a peculiar vision; or maybe a bit of a birdeen +whispered it into my ear. Anyway, 'twas revealed to me just now in a +dream that I stood on the lawn at Bodmin Priory, and peeped in at the +Priory window. An' there in the long hall sat all the saints together +at a big table covered with red baize and plotted against us. There +was St. Petroc in the chair, with St. Guron by his side, an' St. Neot, +St. Udy, St. Teath, St. Keverne, St. Wen, St. Probus, St. Enodar, St. +Just, St. Fimbarrus, St. Clether, St. Germoe, St. Veryan, St. Winnock, +St. Minver, St. Anthony, with the virgins Grace, and Sinara, and +Iva--the whole passel of 'em. An' they were agreein' there was no +holiness left in this parish of mine; an' speakin' shame of me, my +childer--of me, that have banked your consciences these fifty years, +and always been able to pay on demand: the more by token that I kept a +big reserve, an' you knew it. Answer me: when was there ever a panic +in Perranzabuloe? ''Twas all very well,' said St. Neot, when his turn +came to speak, 'but this state o' things ought to be exposed.' He's +as big as bull's beef, is St. Neot, ever since he worked that miracle +over the fishes, an' reckons he can disparage an old man who was +makin' millstones to float when he was suckin' a coral. But the upshot +is, they're goin' to pay us a Visitation to-morrow, by surprise. And, +if only for the parish credit, we'll be even wid um, by dad!" + +St. Piran still lapsed into his native brogue when strongly excited. + +But he had hardly done when Andrew Penhaligon came running in-- + +"St. Piran, honey, I've searched everywhere; an' be hanged to me if I +can find the church at all!" + +"Fwhat's become av ut?" cried the saint, sitting up sharply. + +"How should I know? But devil a trace can I see!" + +"Now, look here," St. Piran said; "the church was there, right +enough." + +"That's a true word," spoke up an old man, "for I mind it well. An +elegant tower it had, an' a shingle roof." + +"Spake up, now," said the saint, glaring around; "fwich av ye's gone +an' misbestowed me parush church? For I won't believe," he said, "that +it's any worse than carelussness--at laste, not yet-a-bit." + +Some remembered the church, and some did not: but the faces of all +were clear of guilt. They trooped out on the sands to search. + +Now, the sands by Perranzabuloe are for ever shifting and driving +before the northerly and nor'-westerly gales; and in time had heaped +themselves up and covered the building out of sight. To guess this +took the saint less time than you can wink your eye in; but the bother +was that no one remembered exactly where the church, had stood, and as +there were two score at least of tall mounds along the shore, and all +of pretty equal height, there was no knowing where to dig. To uncover +them all was a job to last till doomsday. + +"Blur-an'-agurs, but it's ruined I am!" cried St. Piran. "An' the +Visitashun no further away than to-morra at tin a.m.!" He wrung his +hands, then caught up a spade, and began digging like a madman. + +They searched all day, and with lanterns all the night through: they +searched from Ligger Point to Porth Towan: but came on never a sign of +the missing church. + +"If it only had a spire," one said, "there'd be some chance." But as +far as could be recollected, the building had a dumpy tower. + +"Once caught, twice shy," said another; "let us find it this once, an' +next time we'll have landmarks to dig it out by." + +It was at sunrise that St. Piran, worn-out and heart-sick, let fall +his spade and spoke from one of the tall mounds, where he had been +digging for an hour. + +"My children," he began, and the men uncovered their heads, "my +children, we are going to be disgraced this day, and the best we can +do is to pray that we may take it like men. Let us pray." + +He knelt down on the great sand-hill, and the men and women around +dropped on their knees also. And then St. Piran put up the prayer that +has made his name famous all the world over. + +_THE PRAYER OF ST. PIRAN. + +Harr us, O Lord, and be debonair: for ours is a particular case. We +are not like the men of St. Neot or the men of St. Udy, who are for +ever importuning Thee upon the least occasion, praying at all hours +and every day of the week. Thou knowest it is only with extreme +cause that we bring ourselves to trouble Thee. Therefore regard our +moderation in time past, and be instant to help us now. Amen_. + +There was silence for a full minute as he ceased; and then the +kneeling parishioners lifted their eyes towards the top of the mound. + +St. Piran was nowhere to be seen! + +They stared into each other's faces. For a while not a sound was +uttered. Then a woman began to sob-- + +"We've lost 'en! We've lost 'en!" + +"Like Enoch, he's been taken!" + +"Taken up in a chariot an' horses o' fire. Did any see 'en go?" + +"An' what'll we do without 'en? Holy St. Piran, come back to us!" + +"Hullo! hush a bit an' hearken!" cried Andrew Penhaligon, lifting a +hand. + +They were silent, and listening as he commanded, heard a muffled voice +and a faint, calling as it were from the bowels of the earth. + +"Fetch a ladder!" it said: "fetch a ladder! It's meself that's found +ut, glory be to God! Holy queen av heaven! but me mouth is full av +sand, an' it's burstin' I'll be if ye don't fetch a ladder quick!" + +They brought a ladder and set it against the mound. Three of the men +climbed up. At the top they found a big round hole, from the lip of +which they scraped the sand away, discovering a patch of shingle roof, +through which St. Piran--whose weight had increased of late--had +broken and tumbled heels over head into his own church. + +Three hours later there appeared on the eastern sky-line, against the +yellow blaze of the morning, a large cavalcade that slowly pricked its +way over the edge and descended the slopes of Newlyn Downs. It was the +Visitation. In the midst rode St. Petroc, his crozier tucked under his +arm, astride a white mule with scarlet ear-tassels and bells and a +saddle of scarlet leather. He gazed across the sands to the sea, and +turned to St. Neot, who towered at his side upon a flea-bitten grey. + +"The parish seems to be deserted," said he: "not a man nor woman can I +see, nor a trace of smoke above the chimneys." + +St. Neot tightened his thin lips. In his secret heart he was mightily +pleased. + +"Eight in the morning," he answered, with a glance back at the sun. +"They'll be all abed, I'll warrant you." + +St. Petroc muttered a threat. + +They entered the village street. Not a soul turned out at their +coming. Every cottage door was fast closed, nor could any amount of +knocking elicit an answer or entice a face to a window. In gathering +wrath the visiting saints rode along the sea-shore to St. Piran's +small hut. + +Here the door stood open: but the hut was empty. A meagre breakfast of +herbs was set out on the table, and a brand new scourge lay somewhat +ostentatiously beside the platter. The visitors stood nonplussed, +looked at each other, then eyed the landscape. Between barren sea +and barren downs the beach stretched away, with not a human shape in +sight. St. Petroc, choking with impotent wrath, appeared to study the +hollow green breakers from between the long ears of his mule, but with +quick sidelong glances right and left, ready to jump down the throat +of the first saint that dared to smile. + +After a minute or so St. Enodar suddenly turned his face inland, and +held up a finger. + +"Hark!" he shouted above the roar of the sea. + +"What is it?" + +"It sounds to me," said St. Petroc, after listening for some moments +with his head on one side, "it sounds to me like a hymn." + +"To be sure 'tis a hymn," said St. Enodar, "and the tune is 'Mullyon,' +for a crown." And he pursed up his lips and followed the chant, +beating time with his forefinger-- + + _When, like a thief, the Midianite + Shall steal upon the camp, + O, let him find our armour bright, + And oil within our lamp!_" + +"But where in the world does it come from?" asked St. Neot. + +This could not be answered for the moment; but the saints turned their +horses' heads from the sea, and moved slowly on the track of the +sound, which at every step grew louder and more distinct. + + "_It is at no appointed hours, + It is not by the dock, + That Satan, grisly wolf, devours + The unprotected flock_" + +The visitors found themselves at the foot of an enormous sand-hill, +from the top of which the chant was pouring as lava from a crater. +They set their ears to the sandy wall. They walked round it, and +listened again. + + "_But ever prowls th' insidious foe, + And listens round the fold_" + +This was too much. St. Petroc smote twice upon the sand-hill with his +crozier, and shouted-- + +"Hi, there!" + +The chant ceased. For at least a couple of minutes nothing happened; +and then St. Piran's bald head was thrust cautiously forward over the +summit. + +"Holy St. Petroc! Was it only you, after all? And St. Neot--and St. +Udy O, glory be!" + +"Why, who did you imagine we were?" St. Petroc asked, still in +amazement. + +"Why, throat-cutting Danes, to be sure, by the way you were comin' +over the hills when we spied you, three hours back. An' the trouble +we've had to cover up our blessed church out o' sight of thim +marautherin' thieves! An' the intire parish gathered inside here an' +singin' good-by songs in expectation of imminent death! An' to think +'twas you holy men, all the while! But why didn't ye send word ye was +comin', St. Petroc, darlint? For it's little but sand ye'll find in +your mouths for breakfast, I'm thinkin'." + + + + +IN THE TRAIN. + + +I.--PUNCH'S UNDERSTUDY. + +The first-class smoking compartment was the emptiest in the whole +train, and even this was hot to suffocation, because my only companion +denied me more than an inch of open window. His chest, he explained +curtly, was "susceptible." As we crawled westward through the glaring +country, the sun's rays reverberated on the carriage roof till I +seemed to be crushed under an anvil, counting the strokes. I had +dropped my book, and was staring listlessly out of the window. At the +other end of the compartment my fellow-passenger had pulled down the +blinds, and hidden his face behind the _Western Morning News_. He +was a red and choleric little man of about sixty, with a protuberant +stomach, a prodigious nose, to which he carried snuff about once in +two minutes, and a marked deformity of the shoulders. For comfort--and +also, perhaps, to hide this hump--he rested his back in the angle +by the window. He wore a black alpaca coat, a high stock, white +waistcoat, and trousers of shepherd's plaid. On these and a few other +trivial details I built a lazy hypothesis that he was a lawyer, and +unmarried. + +Just before entering the station at Lostwithiel, our train passed +between the white gates of a level crossing. A moment before I had +caught sight of the George drooping from the church spire, and at the +crossing I saw it was regatta-day in the small town. The road was +thick with people and lined with sweet-standings; and by the near end +of the bridge a Punch-and-Judy show had just closed a performance. The +orchestra had unloosed his drum, and fallen to mopping the back of his +neck with the red handkerchief that had previously bound the panpipes +to his chin. A crowd still loitered around, and among it I noted +several men and women in black--ugly stains upon the pervading +sunshine. + +The station platform was cram-full as we drew up, and it was clear at +once that all the carriages in the train would be besieged, without +regard to class. By some chance, however, ours was neglected, and +until the very last moment we seemed likely to escape. The guard's +whistle was between his lips when I heard a shout, then one or two +feminine screams, and a company of seven or eight persons came +charging out of the booking-office. Every one of them was apparelled +in black: they were, in fact, the people I had seen gaping at the +Punch-and-Judy show. + +In a moment one of the men tore open the door of our compartment, and +we were invaded. One--two--four--six--seven--in they poured, tumbling +over my legs, panting, giggling inanely, exhorting each other to +hurry--an old man, two youths, three middle-aged women, and a little +girl about four years old. I heard a fierce guttural sound, and saw my +fellow-passenger on his feet, choking with wrath and gesticulating. +But the guard slammed the door on his resentment, and the train moved +on. As it gathered speed he fell back, all purple above his stock, +snatched his malacca walking-cane from under the coat-tails of a +subsiding youth, stuck it upright between his knees, and glared round +upon the intruders. They were still possessed with excitement over +their narrow escape, and unconscious of offence. One of the women +dropped into the corner seat, and took the little girl on her lap. The +child's dusty boots rubbed against the old gentleman's trousers. He +shifted his position, grunted, and took snuff furiously. + +"That was nibby-jibby," observed the old man of the party, while his +eyes wandered round for a seat. + +"I declare I thought I should ha' died," panted a robust-looking woman +with a wart on her cheek, and a yard of crape hanging from her bonnet. +"Can't 'een find nowhere to sit, uncle?" + +"Reckon I must make shift 'pon your lap, Susannah." + +This was said with a chuckle, and the woman tittered. + +"What new-fang'd game be this o' the Great Western's? Arms to the +seats, I vow. We'll have to sit intimate, my dears." + +"'Tis First Class," one of the young men announced in a chastened +whisper: "I saw it written on the door." + +There was a short silence of awe. + +"Well!" ejaculated Susannah: "I thought, when first I sat down, that +the cushions felt extraordinary plum. You don't think they'll fine +us?" + +"It all comes of our stoppin' to gaze at that Punch-an'-Judy," the old +fellow went on, after I had shown them how to turn back the arm-seats, +and they were settled in something like comfort. "But I never _could_ +refrain from that antic, though I feels condemned too, in a way, an' +poor Thomas laid in earth no longer ago than twelve noon. But in the +midst of life we are in death." + +"I don't remember a more successful buryin'," said the woman who held +the little girl. + +"That was partly luck, as you may say, it bein' regatta-day an' the +fun o' the fair not properly begun. I counted a lot at the cemetery I +didn' know by face, an' I set 'em down for excursionists, that caught +sight of a funeral, an' followed it to fill up the time." + +"It all added." + +"Oh, aye; Thomas was beautifully interred." + +By this time the heat in the carriage was hardly more overpowering +than the smell of crape, broadcloth, and camphor. The youth who had +wedged himself next to me carried a large packet of "fairing," which +he had bought at one of the sweet-stalls. He began to insert it into +his side pocket, and in his struggles drove an elbow sharply into my +ribs. I shifted my position a little. + +"Tom's wife would ha' felt it a source o' pride, had she lived." + +But I ceased to listen; for in moving I had happened to glance at the +further end of the carriage, and there my attention was arrested by +a curious little piece of pantomime. The little girl--a dark-eyed, +intelligent child, whose pallor was emphasised by the crape which +smothered her--was looking very closely at the old gentleman with the +hump--staring at him hard, in fact. He, on the other hand, was leaning +forward, with both hands on the knob of his malacca, his eyes bent on +the floor and his mouth squared to the surliest expression. He +seemed quite unconscious of her scrutiny, and was tapping one foot +impatiently on the floor. + +After a minute I was surprised to see her lean forward and touch him +gently on the knee. + +He took no notice beyond shuffling about a little and uttering a +slight growl. The woman who held her put out an arm and drew back +the child's hand reprovingly. The child paid no heed to this, but +continued to stare. Then in another minute she again bent forward, and +tapped the old gentleman's knee. + +This time she fetched a louder growl from him, and an irascible glare. +Not in the least daunted, she took hold of his malacca, and shook it +to and fro in her small hand. + +"I wish to heavens, madam, you'd keep your child to yourself!" + +"For shame, Annie!" whispered the poor woman, cowed by his look. + +But again Annie paid no heed. Instead, she pushed the malacca towards +the old gentleman, saying-- + +"Please, sir, will 'ee warm Mister Barrabel wi' this?" + +He moved uneasily, and looked harshly at her without answering. "For +shame, Annie!" the woman murmured a second time; but I saw her lean +back, and a tear started and rolled down her cheek. + +"If you please, sir," repeated Annie, "will 'ee warm Mister Barrabel +wi' this?" + +The old gentleman stared round the carriage. In his eyes you could +read the question, "What in the devil's name does the child mean?" The +robust woman read it there, and answered him huskily-- + +"Poor mite! she's buried her father this mornin'; an' Mister Barrabel +is the coffin-maker, an' nailed 'en down." + +"Now," said Annie, this time eagerly, "will 'ee warm him same as the +big doll did just now?" + +Luckily, the old gentleman did not understand this last allusion. He +had not seen the group around the Punch-and-Judy show; nor, if he had, +is it likely he would have guessed the train of thought in the child's +mind. But to me, as I looked at my fellow-passenger's nose and the +deformity of his shoulders, and remembered how Punch treats the +undertaker in the immortal drama, it was all plain enough. I glanced +at the child's companions. Nothing in their faces showed that they +took the allusion; and the next moment I was glad to think that I +alone knew what had prompted Annie's speech. + +For the next moment, with a beautiful change on his face, the old +gentleman had taken the child on his knee, and was talking to her as I +dare say he had never talked before. + +"Are you her mother?" he asked, looking up suddenly, and addressing +the woman opposite. + +"Her mother's been dead these two year. I'm her aunt, an' I'm takin' +her home to rear 'long wi' my own childer." + +He was bending over Annie, and had resumed his chat. It was all +nonsense--something about the silver knob of his malacca--but it took +hold of the child's fancy and comforted her. At the next station I had +to alight, for it was the end of my journey. But looking back into +the carriage as I shut the door, I saw Annie bending forward over the +walking-stick, and following the pattern of its silverwork with her +small finger. Her face was turned from the old gentleman's, and behind +her little black hat his eyes were glistening. + + +II.--A CORRECTED CONTEMPT. + +The whistles had sounded, and we were already moving slowly out of St. +David's Station, Exeter, to continue our journey westward, when +the door was pulled open and a brown bag, followed by a whiff of +_Millefleurs_ and an over-dressed young man, came flying into the +compartment where I sat alone and smoked. + +The youth scrambled to a seat as the door slammed behind him; remarked +that it was "a near shave"; and laughed nervously as if to assure +me that he found it a joke. His face was pink with running, and the +colour contrasted unpleasantly with his pale sandy hair and moustache. +He wore a light check suit, a light-blue tie knotted through a +"Mizpah" ring, a white straw hat with a blue ribbon, and two +finger-rings set with sham diamonds--altogether the sort of outfit +that its owner would probably have described as "rather nobby." +Feeling that just now it needed a few repairs, he opened the bag, +pulled out a duster and flicked away for half-a-minute at his brown +boots. Next with a handkerchief he mopped his face and wiped round the +inner edge first of his straw hat, and then of his collar and cuffs. +After this he stood up, shook his trousers till they hung with +a satisfying gracefulness, produced a cigar-case--covered with +forget-me-nots in crewel work--and a copy of the _Sporting Times_, sat +down again, and asked me if I could oblige him with a light. + +I think the train had neared Dawlish before the cigar was fairly +started, and his pink face hidden behind the pink newspaper. But even +so between the red sandstone cliffs and the wholesome sea this pink +thing would not sit still. His diamond rings kept flirting round the +edge of the _Sporting Times_, his brown boots shifting their position +on the cushion in front of him, his legs crossing, uncrossing, +recrossing, his cigar-smoke rising in quick, uneasy puffs. + +Between Teignmouth and Newton Abbot this restlessness increased. He +dropped some cigar-ash on his waistcoat and arose to shake it off. +Twice or thrice he picked up the paper and set it down again. As we +ran into Newton Abbot Station, he came over to my side of the carriage +and scanned the small crowd upon the platform. Suddenly his pink +cheeks flushed to crimson. The train was slowing to a standstill, and +while he hesitated with a hand on the door, a little old man came +trotting down the platform--a tremulous little man, in greenish black +broadcloth, eloquent of continued depression in some village retail +trade. His watery eyes shone brimful of pride and gladness. + +"Whai, Charley, lad, there you be, to be shure; an' lookin' as peart +as a gladdy! Shaäke your old vather's vist, lad--ees fay, you be +lookin' well!" + +The youth, scorched with a miserable shame, stepped out, put his hand +in his father's, and tried to withdraw him a little up the platform +and out of my hearing. + +"Noa, noa; us'll bide where us be, zoa's to be 'andy vur the train +when her starts off. Her doan't stay no while. I vound Zam Emmet +zarving here as porter--you mind Zam? Danged if I knawed 'en, vurst +along, the vace of 'en's that altered: grawed a beard, her hev. But +her zays to me, 'How be gettin' 'long, Isaac?' an' then I zaw who +'twas--an' us fell to talkin', and her zaid the train staps vaive +minnits, no more nor less." + +His son interrupted him with mincing haughtiness. + +"'Ow's mothaw?" + +"Weist an' ailin', poor crittur--weist an' ailin'. Dree times her've +a-been through the galvanic battery, an' might zo well whistle. Turble +lot o' zickness about. An' old Miss Ruby's resaigned, an' a new +postmistress come in her plaäce--a tongue-tight pore crittur, an' +talks London. If you'll b'lieve _me_, Miss Ruby's been to Plymouth +'pon her zavings an' come back wi' vifteen pound' worth of valse teeth +in her jaws, which, as I zaid, 'You must excoose my plain speakin', +but they've a-broadened your mouth, Miss Ruby, an' I laiked 'ee better +as you was bevore.' 'Never mind,' her zays, 'I can chow.' There now, +Charley--zimme I've been doing arl the tarlk, an' thy mother'll be +waitin' wi' dree-score o' questions, zoon as I gets whome. Her'd ha' +corned to gie thee a kiss, if her'd a-been 'n a vit staäte; but her's +zent thee zummat--" + +He foraged in the skirt pockets of his threadbare coat and brought +out a paper of sandwiches and a long-nosed apple. I saw the young man +wince. + +"Her reckoned you'd veel a wamblin' in the stommick, travellin' arl +the waäy from Hexeter to Plymouth. There, stow it awaäy. Not veelin' +peckish? Never maind: there's a plenty o' taime betwix' this an' +Plymouth." + +"No, thanks." + +"Tut-tut, now--" He insisted, and the packet, on the white paper +wrapper of which spots of grease were spreading, changed hands. The +little man peered wistfully up into his son's face: his own eyes were +full of love, but seemed to search for something. + +"How dost laike it, up to Hexeter: an' how't get along?" + +"Kepital--kepital. Give mothaw my love." + +"E'es be shure. Fainely plaized her'll be to hear thee'rt zo naicely +adrest. Her'd maäde up her maind, pore zowl, that arl your buttons ud +be out, wi' nobody to zee arter 'en. But I declare thee'rt drest laike +a topsawyer." + +And with this a dead silence fell between the two. The old man shifted +his weight from one foot to another, and twice cleared his throat. The +young counter-jumper averted his eyes from his father's quivering lip +to stare up the platform. The minutes ran on. + +At last the old man found his voice-- + +"Thic' there's a stubbard apple you've got in your hand." + +"Take your seats, please!" + +The guard held the door while they shook hands again. "Charley" leaned +out at the window as our train began to move. + +"Her comes from the zeccond 'spalier past the inyon-bed; al'ays the +vurst to raipen, thic' there tree." + +The old fellow broke into something resembling a run as he followed +our carriage to shout-- + +"Turble bad zayson vur zaider!" + +With that he halted at the end of the platform, and watched us out of +sight. His son flung himself on the seat with--I could have kicked him +for it--a deprecatory titter. Then he drew a long breath; but it was +twenty minutes before his blush faded, and he regained confidence to +ask me for another light. + +Just eighteen months after I was travelling up to London in the Zulu +express. A large Fair Trade meeting had been held at Plymouth the +night before, and three farmers in the compartment with me were +discussing that morning's leader in the _Western Daily Mercury_. One +of them had already been goaded into violent speech when we halted at +Newton Abbot and another passenger stepped in--a little old man in a +suit of black. + +I recognised him at once. And yet he was changed woefully. He had +fallen away in flesh; the lines had deepened beside his upper lip; and +in spite of a glossier suit he had an appearance of hopelessness which +he had not worn when I saw him for the first time. + +He took his seat, looked about him vacantly and caught the eye of the +angry farmer, who nodded, broke off his speech in the middle of a +sentence, and asked in a curiously gentle voice-- + +"Travellin' up to Exeter?" + +The old man bent his head for "yes," and I saw the tears well up in +his weak eyes. + +"There's no need vur to ax your arrand." The farmer here dropped his +tone almost to a whisper. + +"Naw, naw. I be goin' up to berry 'en. Ees, vriends," he went on, +looking around and asking, with that glance, the sympathy of all +present, "to berry my zon, my clever zon, my only zon." + +Nobody spoke for a few seconds. Then the kindly farmer observed-- + +"Aye, I've heerd zay a' was very clever to his traäde. 'Uxtable an' +Co., his employers, spoke very handsome of 'en, they tell me. I can't +call to maind, tho', that I've a-zet eyes 'pon the young man since he +was a little tacker." + +The old man began to fumble in his breastpocket, and drawing out a +photograph, handed it across. + +"That's the last that was took of 'en." + +"Pore young chap," said the farmer, holding the likeness level with +his eyes and studying it; "Pore young chap! Zuch a respectable lad to +look at! They tell me a' made ye a gude zon, too." + +"Gude?" The tears ran down the father's face and splashed on his +hands, trembling as they folded over the knob of his stout stick. +"Gude? I b'lieve, vriends, ye'll call it gude when a young man zends +the third o' his earnin's week by week to help his parents. That's +what my zon did, vrum the taime he left whome. An' presunts--never a +month went by, but zome little gift ud come by the postman; an' little +'twas he'd got to live 'pon, at the best, the dear lad--" + +The farmer was passing back the photograph. "May I see it?" I asked: +and the old man nodded. + +It was the same face--the same suit, even--that had roused my contempt +eighteen months before. + + + + +WOON GATE. + +It was on a cold and drenching afternoon in October that I spent an +hour at Woon Gate: for in all the homeless landscape this little +round-house offers the only shelter, its windows looking east and west +along the high-road and abroad upon miles of moorland, hedgeless, +dotted with peat-ricks, inhabited only by flocks of grey geese and a +declining breed of ponies, the chartered vagrants of Woon Down. Two +miles and more to the north, and just under the rim of the horizon, +straggle the cottages of a few tin-streamers, with their backs to the +wind. These look down across an arable country, into which the women +descend to work at seed-time and harvest, and whence, returning, they +bring some news of the world. But Woon Gate lies remoter. It was never +more than a turnpike; and now the gate is down, the toll-keeper dead, +and his widow lives alone in the round-house. She opened the door +to me--a pleasant-faced old woman of seventy, in a muslin cap, red +turnover, and grey gown hitched very high. She wore no shoes inside +her cottage, but went about in a pair of coarse worsted stockings on +all days except the very rawest, when the chill of the lime-ash floor +struck into her bones. + +"May I wait a few minutes till the weather lifts?" I asked. + +She smiled and seemed almost grateful. + +"You'm kindly welcome, be sure: that's if you don't mind the +Vaccination." + +I suppose that my face expressed some wonder: for she went on, shaking +my dripping hat and hanging it on a nail by the fire-- + +"Doctor Rodda'll be comin' in half-an-hour's time. 'Tis district +Vaccination to-day, and he always inoculates here, 'tis so handy." + +She nodded her head at half a dozen deal chairs and a form arrayed +round the wall under a row of sacred texts and tradesmen's almanacks. + +"There'll be nine to-day, as I makes it out. I counted 'em up several +times last night." + +It was evidently a great day in her eyes. + +"But you've allowed room for many more than nine," I pointed out. + +"Why, of course. There's some brings their elder childer for a +treat--an' there's always 'Melia Penaluna." + +I was on the point of asking who Amelia Penaluna might be, when my +attention was drawn to the small eastern window. Just outside, and +but a dozen paces from the house, there stretched a sullen pond, +over which the wind drove in scuds and whipped the sparse reeds that +encroached around its margin. Beside the further bank of the pond +the high-road was joined by a narrow causeway that led down from +the northern fringe of Woon Down; and along this causeway moved a +procession of women and children. + +They were about twenty in all, and, as they skirted the pond, their +figures were sharply silhouetted against the grey sky. Each of the +women held a baby close to her breast and bent over it as she advanced +against the wind, that beat her gown tightly against her legs and +blew it out behind in bellying folds. Yet beneath their uncouth and +bedraggled garments they moved like mothers of a mighty race, tall, +large-limbed, broad of hip, hiding generous breasts beneath the +shawls--red, grey, and black--that covered their babes from the wind +and rain. A few of the children struggled forward under ricketty +umbrellas; but the mothers had their hands full, and strode along +unsheltered. More than one, indeed, faced the storm without bonnet or +covering for the head; and all marched along the causeway like figures +on some sculptured frieze, their shadows broken beneath them on the +ruffled surface of the pond. I said that each of the women carried a +babe: but there was one who did not--a plain, squat creature, at the +tail of the procession, who wore a thick scarf round her neck, and a +shawl of divers bright colours. She led a small child along with one +hand, and with the other attempted to keep a large umbrella against +the wind. + +"Nineteen--twenty--twenty-one," counted the toll-keeper's widow behind +me as I watched the spasmodic jerkings of this umbrella. "I wasn't far +out in my reckon. And you, sir, make twenty-two. It niver rains but it +pours, they say. Times enow I don't see a soul for days together, not +to hail by name, an' now you drops in on top of a Vaccination." + +Her sigh over this plethora of good fortune was interrupted by a +knocking at the door, and the mothers trooped in, their clothes +dripping pools of water on the sanded lime-ash. One or two of them, +after exchanging greetings with their hostess, bade me Good-morning: +others eyed me in silence as they took their seats round the wall. +All whose babes were not sound asleep quietly undid their bodices and +began to give them suck. The older children scrambled into chairs and +sat kicking their heels and tracing patterns on the floor with the +water that ran off their umbrellas. They were restless but rather +silent, as if awed by the shadow of the coming Vaccination. The woman +who had brought up the procession, found a place in the far corner, +and began to unwind the comforter around her neck. Her eyes were +brighter and more agitated than any in the room. + +"A brave trapse all the way from Upper Woon," remarked the youngest +mother, wiping a smear of rain from her baby's forehead. + +"Ah, 'tis your first, Mary Polsue. Wait till you've carried twelve +such loads, my dear," said a tall middle-aged woman, whose black hair, +coarse as a mane, was powdered grey with, raindrops. + +"Dear now, Ellen; be this the twelfth?" our hostess exclaimed. "I was +reckonin' it the 'leventh." + +"Ay, th' twelfth--tho' I've most lost count. I buried one, you know." + +"For my part," put in a pale-eyed blonde, who sat near the door, "'t +seems but yestiddy I was here with Alsia yonder." She nodded her head +towards a girl of five who was screwing herself round in her chair and +trying to peep out of the window. + +"Ay, they come and come: the Lord knows wherefore," the tall woman +assented. "When they'm young they make your arms ache, an' when they +grow up they make your heart ache." + +"But 'Melia Penaluna's been here more times than any of us," said the +blonde with a titter, directing her eyes towards a corner of the room. +The rest looked too, and laughed. Turning, I saw that the plain-faced +woman had unwound her comforter, and now I could see, hanging low on +her chest, an immense lump wrapped in clean white linen and bound up +with a gaudy yellow handkerchief. It was a goître. + +"Iss, my dears," she answered, touching it and smiling, but with tears +in her eyes; "this here's my only child, an' iver will be. Ne'er a +man'll look 'pon me, so I'm forced to be content wi' this babe and +clothe 'en pretty, as you see. Ah, you'm lucky, you'm lucky, though +you talk so!" + +"She's terrible fond o' childer," said one of the women audibly, +addressing me. "How many 'noculations have you 'tended, 'Melia?" + +"Six-an'-twenty, countin' to-day," 'Melia announced with pride in her +trembling voice. But at this point one of the infants began to cry, +and before he could be hushed the noise of wheels sounded down the +road, and Dr. Rodda drove up in his reedy gig. + +He was a round, dapper practitioner, with slightly soiled cuffs and +an extremely business-like manner. On entering the room he jerked his +head in a general nod to all present, and stepping to the table, drew +a small packet from his waistcoat, and unfolded it. It contained about +a score of small pieces of ivory, pointed like pens, but flat. Then, +pulling out a paper and consulting it hastily, he set to work, +beginning with the child that lay on the blonde woman's lap, next to +the door. + +I looked around. The children were staring with wide, admiring eyes. +Their mothers also watched, but listlessly, still suckling their babes +as each waited its turn. Only 'Melia Penaluna winced and squeezed her +hands together whenever a feeble wailing told that one of the vaccine +points had made itself felt. + +"Do 'ee think it hurts the poor mites?" the youngest mother asked. + +"Not much, I reckon," answered the big woman. + +Nevertheless her own child cried pitifully when its turn came. And as +it cried, the childless woman in the corner got off her chair and ran +forward tremulously. + +"'Becca, let me take him. Do'ee, co!" + +"'Melia Penaluna, you'm no better 'n a fool." + +But poor, misnamed Amelia was already back in her corner with the +child, hugging it, kissing it, rocking it in her arms, crooning over +it, holding it tightly against the lump that hung down on her barren +bosom. Long after the baby had ceased to cry she sat crooning and +yearning over it. And the mothers watched her, with wonder and +scornful amusement in their eyes. + + + + +FROM A COTTAGE IN GANTICK. + + +I.--THE MOURNER'S HORSE. + +The Board Schoolmaster and I are not friends. He is something of +a zealot, and conceives it his mission to weed out the small +superstitions of the countryside and plant exact information in their +stead. He comes from up the country--a thin, clean-shaven town-bred +man, whose black habit and tall hat, though considerably bronzed, +refuse to harmonise with the scenery amid which they move. His speech +is formal and slightly dogmatic, and in argument he always gets the +better of me. Therefore, feeling sure it will annoy him excessively, I +am going to put him into this book. He laid himself open the other day +to this stroke of revenge, by telling me a story; and since he loves +precision, I will be very precise about the circumstances. + +At the foot of my garden, and hidden from my window by the clipt +box hedge, runs Sanctuary Lane, along which I see the heads of the +villagers moving to church on Sunday mornings. But in returning they +invariably keep to the raised footpath on the far side, that brings +the women's skirts and men's smallclothes into view. I have made many +attempts to discover how this distinction arose, and why it is adhered +to, but never found a satisfying explanation. It is the rule, however. + +From the footpath a high bank (where now the primroses have given +place to stitchwort and ragged robin) rises to an orchard; so steeply +that the apple-blossom drops into the lane. Just now the petals lie +thickly there in the early morning, to be trodden into dust as soon +as the labourers fare to work. Beyond and above the orchard comes a +stretch of pastureland and then a young oak-coppice, the fringe of a +great estate, with a few Scotch firs breaking the sky-line on top of +all. The head gamekeeper of this estate tells me we shall have a hot +summer, because the oak this year was in leaf before the ash, though +only by a day. The ash was foliating on the 29th of April, the oak +on the 28th. Up there the blue-bells lie in sheets of mauve, and the +cuckoo is busy. I rarely see him; but his three notes fill the hot +noon and evening. When he spits (says the gamekeeper again) it is time +to be sheep-shearing. My talk with the gamekeeper is usually held at +six in the morning, when he comes down the lane and I am stepping +across to test the water in Scarlet's Well. + +This well bubbles up under a low vault scooped in the bank by the +footpath and hung with hart's-tongue ferns. It has two founts, close +together; but whereas one of them oozes only, the other is bubbling +perennially, and, as near as I have observed, keeps always the same. +Its specific gravity is that of distilled water--1.000°; and though, +to be sure, it upset me, three weeks back, by flying up to 1.005°, I +think that must have come from the heavy thunderstorms and floods of +rain that lately visited us and no doubt imported some ingredients +that had no business there. As for its temperature, I will select a +note or two of the observations I made with a Fahrenheit thermometer +this last year:-- + +_June 12th_.--Temperature in shade of well, 62°; of water, 51°. + +_August 25th_.--In shade of well (at noon), 73°; of water, 52°. + +_November 20th_.--In shade of well, 43°; of water, 52°. + +_January 1st_.--External air, 56°; enclosure, 53°; water, 52°. + +_March 11th_.--A bleak, sunless day. Temperature in shade of well, at +noon, 54°; water, 51°. The _Chrysosplenium Oppositiflorium_ in rich +golden bloom within the enclosure. + +But the spring has other properties besides its steady temperature. I +was early abroad in my garden last Thursday week, and in the act of +tossing a snail over my box hedge, when I heard some girls' voices +giggling, and caught a glimpse of half-a-dozen sun-bonnets gathered +about the well. Straightening myself up, I saw a group of maids +from the village, and, in the middle, one who bent over the water. +Presently she scrambled to her feet, glanced over her shoulder and +gave a shrill scream. + +I, too, looked up the lane and saw, a stone's throw off, the +schoolmaster advancing with long and nervous strides. He was furiously +angry. + +"Thomasine Slade," said he, "you are as shameless as you are +ignorant!" + +The girl tossed her chin and was silent, with a warm blush on her +cheek and a lurking imp of laughter in her eye. The schoolmaster +frowned still more darkly. + +"Shameless as well as ignorant!" he repeated, bringing the ferule of +his umbrella smartly down upon the macadam; "and you, Jane Hewitt, and +you, Lizzie Polkinghorne!" + +"Why, what's the matter?" I asked, stepping out into the road. + +At sight of me the girls broke into a peal of laughter, gathered up +their skirts and fled, still laughing, down the road. + +"What's the matter?" I asked again. + +"The matter?" echoed the schoolmaster, staring blankly after the +retreating skirts; then more angrily--"The matter? come and look +here!" He took hold of my shirt-sleeve and led me to the well. +Stooping, I saw half-a-dozen pins gleaming in its brown depths. + +"A love-charm." + +The schoolmaster nodded. + +"Thomasine Slade has been wishing for a husband. I see no sin in that. +When she looked up and saw you coming down the lane--" + +I paused. The schoolmaster said nothing. He was leaning over the well, +gloomily examining the pins. + +"--your aspect was enough to scare anyone," I wound up lamely. + +"I wish," the schoolmaster hastily began, "I wish to Heaven I had the +gift of humour! I lose my temper and grow positive. I'd kill these +stupid superstitions with ridicule, if I had the gift. It's a great +gift. My God, I do hate to be laughed at!" + +"Even by a fool?" I asked, somewhat astonished at his heat. + +"Certainly. There's no comfort in comparing the laugh of fools with +the crackling of thorns under a pot, if you happen to be inside the +pot and in process of cooking." + +He took off his hat, brushed it on the sleeve of his coat, and resumed +in a tone altogether lighter-- + +"Yes, I hate to be laughed at; and I'll tell you a tale on this point +that may amuse you at my expense. + +"I am London-bred, as you know, and still a Cockney in the grain, +though when I came down here to teach school I was just nineteen and +now I'm over forty. It was during the summer holidays that I first set +foot in this neighbourhood--a week before school re-opened. I came +early, to look for lodgings and find out a little about the people and +settle down a bit before beginning work. + +"The vicar--the late vicar, I mean--commended me to old Retallack, who +used to farm Rosemellin, up the valley, a widower and childless. His +sister, Miss Jane Ann, kept house for him, and these were the only two +souls on the premises till I came and was boarded by them for thirteen +shillings a week. For that price they gave me a bedroom, a fair-sized +sitting-room and as much as I could eat. + +"A month after my arrival, Farmer Retallack was put to bed with a +slight attack of colic. This was on a Wednesday, and on Saturday +morning Miss Jane Ann came knocking at my door with a message that the +old man would like to see me. So I went across to his room and found +him propped up in the bed with three or four pillows and looking very +yellow in the gills, though clearly convalescent. + +"'Schoolmaster,' said he, 'I've a trifling favour to beg of ye. You +give the children a half-holiday, Saturdays--hey? Well, d'ye think ye +could drive the brown hoss, Trumpeter, into Tregarrick this afternoon? +The fact is, my old friend Abe Walters, that kept the Packhorse Inn is +lying dead, and they bury 'en at half after two to-day. I'd be main +glad to show respect at the funeral and tell Mrs. Walters how much +deceased 'll be missed, ancetera; but I might so well try to fly in +the air. Now if you could attend and just pass the word that I'm on my +back with the colic, but that you've come to show respect in my place, +I'd take it very friendly of ye. There'll be lashins o' vittles an' +drink. No Walters was ever interred under a kilderkin.'" Now the fact +was, I had never driven a horse in my life and hardly knew (as they +say) a horse's head from his tail till he began to move. But that is +just the sort of ignorance no young man will readily confess to. So +I answered that I was engaged that evening. We were just organising +night-classes for the young men of the parish, and the vicar was to +open the first, with a short address, at half-past six. + +"'You'll be back in lashins o' time,' the farmer assured me. + +"This put me fairly in a corner. 'To tell you the truth,' said I, 'I'm +not accustomed to drive much.' But of course this was wickedly short +of the truth. + +"He declared that it was impossible to come to grief on the way, the +brown horse being quiet as a lamb and knowing every stone of the road. +And the end was that I consented. The brown horse was harnessed by the +farm-boy and led round with the gig while Miss Jane Ann and I were +finishing our midday meal. And I drove off alone in a black suit and +with my heart in my mouth. + +"Trumpeter, as the farmer had promised, was quiet as a lamb. He went +forward at a steady jog, and even had the good sense to quarter on +his own account for the one or two vehicles we met on the broad road. +Pretty soon I began to experiment gingerly with the reins; and by the +time we reached Tregarrick streets, was handling them with quite an +air, while observing the face of everyone I met, to make sure I +was not being laughed at. The prospect of Tregarrick Fore Street +frightened me a good deal, and there was a sharp corner to turn at the +entrance of the inn-yard. But the old horse knew his business so well +that had I pulled on one rein with all my strength I believe it would +have merely annoyed, without convincing, him. He took me into the yard +without a mistake, and I gave up the reins to the ostler, thanking +Heaven and looking careless. + +"The inn was crowded with mourners, eating and drinking and discussing +the dead man's virtues. They packed the Assembly Room at the back, +where the subscription dances are held, and the reek of hot joints was +suffocating. I caught sight of the widow Walters bustling up and down +between the long tables and shedding tears while she changed her +guests' plates. She heard my message, welcomed me with effusion, and +thrusting a plateful of roast beef under my nose, hurried away to put +on her bonnet for the funeral. + +"A fellow on my right paused with his mouth full to bid me eat. 'Thank +you,' I said, 'my only wish is to get out of this as quickly as +possible.' + +"He contemplated me for half a minute with an eye like an ox's; +remarked 'You'll be a furriner, no doubt;' and went on with his meal. + +"If the feasting was long, the funeral was longer. We sang so many +burying-tunes, and the widow so often interrupted the service to +ululate, that the town clock had struck four when I hurried back from +the churchyard to the inn, and told the ostler to put my horse in the +gig. I had little time to spare. + +"'Beg your pardon, sir,' the ostler said, 'but I'm new to this +place--only came here this day week. Which is your horse?' + +"'Oh,' I answered, 'he's a brown. Make haste, for I'm in a hurry.' + +"He went off to the stables and returned in about two minutes. + +"'There's six brown hosses in the stable, sir. Would you mind coming +and picking out yours?' + +"I followed him with a sense of impending evil. Sure enough there were +six brown horses in the big stable, and to save my life I couldn't +have told which was Trumpeter. Of any difference between horses, +except that of colour, I hadn't an idea. I scanned them all anxiously, +and felt the ostler's eye upon me. This was unbearable. I pulled out +my watch, glanced at it carelessly, and exclaimed-- + +"'By George, I'd no notion it was so early! H'm, on second thoughts, I +won't start for a few minutes yet.' + +"This was my only course--to wait until the other five owners of brown +horses had driven home. I strolled back to the inn and talked and +drank sherry, watching the crowd thin by degrees, and speeding the +lingering mourners with all my prayers. The minutes dragged on till +nothing short of a miracle could take me back in time to open the +night-class. The widow drew near and talked to me. I answered her at +random. + +"Twice I revisited the stable, and the second time found but three +horses left. I walked along behind them, murmuring, 'Trumpeter, +Trumpeter!' in the forlorn hope that one of the three brutes would +give a sign. + +"'I beg your pardon, sir,' said the ostler; 'were you saying +anything?' + +"'No--nothing,' said I, and luckily he was called away at this moment +to the further end of the stable. 'Oh,' sighed I, 'for Xanthus, horse +of Achilles!' + +"I felt inclined to follow and confide my difficulty to the ostler, +but reflected that this wouldn't help me in the least: whereas, if +I applied to a fellow-guest, he must (if indeed he could give the +information) expose my previous hypocrisy to the ostler. After all, +the company was dwindling fast. I went back and consumed more sherry +and biscuits. + +"By this six o'clock had gone, and no more than a dozen guests +remained. One of these was my bovine friend, my neighbour at the +funeral banquet, who now accosted me as I struggled with a biscuit. + +"'So you've got over your hurry. Glad to find ye settlin' down so +quick to our hearty ways.' + +"He shook hands with the widow and sauntered out. Ten more minutes +passed and now there were left only the widow herself and a trio of +elderly men, all silent. As I hung about, trying to look unbounded +sympathy at the group, it dawned upon me that they were beginning to +eye me uneasily. I took a sponge cake and another glass of wine. One +of the men--who wore a high stock and an edging of stiff grey hair +around his bald head--advanced to me. + +"'This funeral,' said he, 'is over.' + +"'Yes, yes,' I stammered, and choked over a sip of sherry. + +"'We are waiting--let me tap you on the back--' + +"'Thank you.' + +"'We are waiting to read the will.' + +"I escaped from the room and rushed down to the stables. The ostler +was harnessing the one brown horse that remained. + +"I was thinking you wouldn't be long, sir. You're the very last, I +believe, and here ends a long day's work.' + +"I drove off. It was near seven by this, but I didn't even think of +the night-class. I was wondering if the horse I drove were really +Trumpeter. Somehow--whether because his feed of corn pricked him or no +I can't say--he seemed a deal livelier than on the outward journey. I +looked at him narrowly in the twilight, and began to feel sure it was +another horse. In spite of the cool air a sweat broke out upon me. + +"Farmer Retallack was up and dressed and leaning on a stick in the +doorway as I turned into the yard. + +"'I've been that worried about ye,' he began, 'I couldn't stay abed. +Parson's been up twice from the schoolhouse to make inquiries. Where +in the name o' goodness have 'ee been?' + +"'That's a long story,' said I, and then, feigning to speak +carelessly, though I heard my heart go thump--'How d'ye think +Trumpeter looks after the journey?' + +"'Oh, _he's_ all right,' the old man replied indifferently; 'but come +along in to supper.' + +"Now, my dear sir"--the schoolmaster thus concluded his tale, +tucking his umbrella tightly under his armpit, and tapping his right +forefinger on the palm of his left hand--"these pagans whom I teach +are as sensitive as I to ridicule. If I only knew how to take them--if +only I could lay my finger on the weak spot--I'd send their whole +fabric of silly superstitions tumbling like a house of cards." + +This happened last Thursday week. Early this morning I crossed the +road as usual with my thermometer, and found a strip of pink calico +hanging from the brambles by the mouth of Scarlet's Well. I had seen +the pattern before on a gown worn by one of the villager's wives, and +knew the rag was a votive offering, hung there because her child, who +has been ailing all the winter, is now strong enough to go out into +the sunshine. As I bent the bramble carefully aside, before stooping +over the water, Lizzie Polkinghorne came up the lane and halted behind +me. + +"Have 'ee heard the news?" she asked. + +"No." I turned round, thermometer in hand. + +"Why, Thomasine Slade's goin' to marry the schoolmaster! Their banns +'ll be called first time nest Sunday." + +We looked at each other, and she broke into a shout of laughter. +Lizzie's laugh is irresistible. + + +II.--SILHOUETTES. + +The small rotund gentleman who had danced and spun all the way to +Gantick village from the extreme south of France, and had danced and +smiled and blown his flageolet all day in Gantick Street without +conciliating its population in the least, was disgusted. Towards dusk +he crossed the stile which divides Sanctuary Lane from the churchyard, +and pausing with a leg on either side of the rail, shook his fist back +at the village which lay below, its grey roofs and red chimneys just +distinguishable here and there between a foamy sea of apple-blossom +and a haze of bluish smoke. He could not well shake its dust off his +feet, for this was hardly separable on his boots from the dust of many +other villages, and also it was mostly mud. But his gesture betokened +extreme rancour. + +"These Cor-rnishmen," he said, "are pigs all! There is not a +Cor-rnishman that is not a big pig!" + +He lifted the second leg wearily over the rail. + +"As for Art--" + +"Words failed him here, and he spat upon the ground, adding-- + +"Moreover, they shut up their churches!" + +This was really a serious matter; for he had not a penny-piece in his +pocket--the last had gone to buy a loaf--and there was no lodging to +be had in the village. The month was April--a bad time to sleep in +the open; and though the night drew in tranquilly upon a day of broad +sunshine, the earth had by no means sucked down the late heavy rains. +The church porch, however, had a broad bench on either side and faced +the south, away from the prevailing wind. He had made a mental note of +this early in the day, being schooled to anticipate such straits as +the present. While, with a gait like a limping hare's, he passed up +the narrow path between the graves, his eyes were busy. + +The churchyard was narrow and surrounded by a high grey wall, mostly +hidden by an inner belt of well-grown cypresses. On the south side the +ranks of these trees were broken for some thirty feet, and here the +back of a small dwelling-house abutted on the cemetery. There was one +window only in the yellow-washed wall, and this window--a melancholy +square framed in moss-stained plaster--looked straight into the church +porch. The flageolet-player eyed it suspiciously; but the casement +was shut and the blind drawn down. The whole aspect of the cottage +proclaimed that its inhabitants were very poor folk--not at all the +sort to tell tales upon a casual tramp if they spied him bivouacking +upon holy ground. + +He limped into the porch, and cast off the blue bag that was strapped +upon his shoulders. Out of it he drew a sheep's-wool cape, worn very +thin; and then turned the bag inside out, on the chance of a forgotten +crust. The disappointment that followed he took calmly--being on the +whole a sweet-tempered man, nor easily angered except by an affront on +his vanity. His violent rancour against the people of Gantick +arose from their indifference to his playing. Had they taken him +seriously--had they even run out at their doors to listen and +stare--he would not have minded their stinginess. + +He who sleeps, sups. The little man passed the flat of his hand, +in the dusk, over the two benches, chose the one which had fewest +asperities of surface, tossed his bag and flageolet upon the other, +pulled off his boots, folded his cape to make a pillow, and stretched +himself at length. In less than ten minutes he was sleeping +dreamlessly. + +For four hours he slept without movement. But just above his head +there hung a baize-covered board containing a list or two of the +parish ratepayers and the usual notice of the spring training of the +Royal Cornwall Eangers Militia. This last placard had broken from two +of its fastenings, and towards midnight flapped loudly in an eddy of +the light wind. The sleeper stirred, and passed a languid hand over +his face. A spider within the porch had been busy while he slept, and +his hand encountered gossamer. + +His eyes opened. He sat upright, and lowered his bare feet upon +the flags. Outside, the blue firmament was full of stars sparkling +unevenly, as though the wind were trying in sport to puff them out. +In the eaves of the porch he could hear the martins rustling in the +crevices--they had returned but a few days back to their old quarters. +But what drew the man to step out under the sky was the cottage-window +over the wall. + +The lattice was pushed back and the room inside was brightly lit. But +between him and the lamp a white sheet had been stretched right across +the window; and on this sheet two quick hands were weaving all kinds +of clever shadows, shaping them, moving them, or reshaping them with +the speed of summer lightning. + +It was certainly a remarkable performance. The shadows took the forms +of rabbits, swans, foxes, elephants, fairies, sailors with wooden +legs, old women who smoked pipes, ballet-girls who pirouetted, anglers +who bobbed for fish, twirling harlequins, and the profiles of eminent +statesmen--all made with two hands and, at the most, the help of a +tiny stick or piece of string. They danced and capered, grew large +and then small, with such profusion of odd turns and changes that the +flageolet-player began to giggle as he wondered. He remarked that the +hands, whenever they were disentwined for a moment, appeared to be +very small and plump. + +In about ten minutes the display ceased, and the shadow of a woman's +head and neck crossed the sheet, which was presently drawn back at one +corner. + +"Is that any better?" asked a woman's voice, low but distinct. + +The flageolet-player started and bent his eyes lower, across the +graves and into the shadow beneath the window. For the first time he +was aware of a figure standing there, a little way out from the wall. +As well as he could see, it was a young boy. + +"Much better, mother. You can't think how you've improved at it this +week." + +"Any mistakes?" + +"The harlequin and columbine seemed a little jerky. But your hands +were tired, I know." + +"Never mind that: they mustn't be tired and it's got to be perfect. +We'll try them again." + +She was about to drop the corner of the sheet when the listener sprang +out towards the window, leaping with bare feet over the graves and +waving his flageolet wildly. + +"Ah, no--no, madame!" he cried. "Wait one moment, the littlest, and I +shall inspire you." + +"Whoever is that?" cried the woman's voice at the window. + +The youth below faced round on the intruder. He was white in the face +and had wanted to run, but mastered his voice and enquired gruffly-- + +"Who the devil are you?" + +"I? I am an artist, and as such I salute madame and monsieur her son. +She is greater artist than I, but I shall help her. They shall dance +better this time, her harlequin and columbine. Why? Because they shall +dance to my music--the music that I shall make here, on this spot, +under the stars. _Tiens!_ I shall play as if possessed. I feel that. I +bet you. It is because I have found an artist--an artist in Gantick. +O-my-good-lor! It makes me expand!" + +He had pulled off his greasy hat, and stood bowing and smiling, +showing his white teeth and holding up his flageolet, that the woman +might see and be convinced. + +"That's all very well," said the boy; "but my mother doesn't want it +known that she practises at these shadows." + +"Ha? It is perhaps forbidden by law?" + +"Since you have found us out, sir," said the woman, "I will tell you +why we are behaving like this, and trust you to tell nobody. I have +been left a widow, in great poverty, and with this one son, who must +be educated as well as his father was. Richard is a promising boy, and +cannot be satisfied to stand lower in the world than his father stood. +His father was an auctioneer. But we are left very poor--poor as mice: +and how was I to get him better teaching than the Board Schools here? +Well, six months ago, when sadly perplexed, I found out by chance that +this small gift of mine might earn me a good income in London, at--at +a music-hall--" + +"Mother!" interjected the youth reprovingly. + +"Pursue, madame," said the flageolet-player. + +"Of course, sir, Richard doesn't like or approve of me performing at +such places, but he agrees with me that it is necessary. So we are +hiding it from everybody in the village, because we have always been +respected here. We never guessed that anybody would see us from the +churchyard, of all places, at this time of night. As soon as I have +practised enough, we mean to travel up to London. Of course I shall +change my name to something French or Italian, and hope nobody will +discover--" + +But the flageolet-player sat suddenly down upon a damp grave, and +broke into hysterical laughter. + +"Oh-oh-oh! Quick, madame! dance your pretty figures while yet I laugh +and before I curse. O stars and planets, look down on this mad world, +and help me play! And, O monsieur, your pardon if I laugh; for that +either you or I are mad is a cock-sure. Dance, madame!" + +He put the flageolet to his lips and blew. In a moment or two +harlequin and columbine appeared on the screen, and began to caper +nimbly, naturally, with the airiest graces. The tune was a jigging +reel, and soon began to inspire the performer above. Her small dancers +in a twinkling turned into a gambolling elephant, then to a pair +of swallows. A moment after they were flower and butterfly, then +a jigging donkey, then harlequin and columbine again. With each +fantastic change the tune quickened and the dance grew wilder. At +length, tired out, the woman spread her hands out wide against the +sheet, as if imploring mercy. + +The player tossed his flageolet over a headstone, and rolled back on +the grave in a paroxysm of laughter. Above him the rooks had poured +out of their nests, and were cawing in flustered circles. + +"Monsieur," he gasped out, sitting up and wiping his eyes, "was it +good this time?" + +"Yes, it was." + +"Then could you spare from the house one little crust of bread? For I +am famished." + +The youth went round the churchyard wall, and came back in a couple of +minutes with some bread and cold bacon. + +"Of course," said he, "if you should meet either of us in the village +to-morrow, you will not recognise us." + +The little man bowed. "I agree," said he, "with your mother, monsieur, +that you must be educated at all costs." + + + + +THE DRAWN BLIND. + + +Silver trumpets sounded a flourish, and the javelin-men came pacing +down Tregarrick Fore Street, with the sheriff's coach swinging behind +them, its panels splendid with fresh blue paint and florid blazonry. +Its wheels were picked out with yellow, and this scheme of colour +extended to the coachman and the two lackeys, who held on at the back +by leathern straps. Each wore a coat and breeches of electric +blue, with a canary waistcoat, and was toned off with powder and +flesh-coloured stockings at the extremities. Within the coach, and +facing the horses, sat the two judges of the Crown Court and _Nisi +Prius_, both in scarlet, with full wigs and little round patches of +black plaister, like ventilators, on top; facing their lordships sat +Sir Felix Felix-Williams, the sheriff, in a tightish uniform of the +yeomanry with a great shako nodding on his knees, and a chaplain bolt +upright by his side. Behind trooped a rabble of loafers and small +boys, who shouted, "Who bleeds bran?" till the lackeys' calves itched +with indignation. + +I was standing in the archway of the Packhorse Inn, among the maids +and stable-boys gathered to see the pageant pass on its way to hear +the Assize sermon. And standing there, I was witness of a little +incident that seemed to escape the rest. + +At the moment when the trumpets rang out, a very old woman, in a blue +camlet cloak, came hobbling out of a grocer's shop some twenty yards +up the pavement, and tottered down ahead of the procession as fast as +her decrepit legs would move. There was no occasion for hurrying to +avoid the crowd; for the javelin-men had barely rounded the corner +of the long street, and were taking the goosestep very seriously +and deliberately. But she went by the Packhorse doorway as if swift +horsemen were after her, clutching the camlet cloak across her bosom, +glancing over her shoulder, and working her lips inaudibly. I could +not help remarking the position of her right arm. She held it bent +exactly as though she held an infant to her old breast, and shielded +it while she ran. + +A few paces beyond the inn-door she halted on the edge of the kerb, +flung another look up the street, and darted across the roadway. There +stood a little shop--a watchmaker's--just opposite, and next to the +shop a small ope with one dingy window over it. She vanished up the +passage, at the entrance of which I was still staring idly, when, half +a minute later, a skinny trembling hand appeared at the window and +drew down the blind. + +I looked round at the men and maids; but their eyes were all for the +pageant, now not a stone's-throw away. + +"Who is that old woman?" I asked, touching Caleb, the head ostler, on +the shoulder. + +Caleb--a small bandy-legged man, with a chin full of furrows, and the +furrows full of grey stubble--withdrew his gaze grudgingly from the +sheriff's coach. + +"What woman?" + +"She that went by a moment since." + +"She in the blue cloak, d'ee mean?--an old, ancient, wisht-lookin' +body?" + +"Yes." + +"A timmersome woman, like?" + +"That's it." + +"Well, her name's Cordely Pinsent." + +The procession reclaimed his attention. He received a passing wink +from the charioteer, caught it on the volley and returned it with a +solemn face; or rather, the wink seemed to rebound as from a blank +wall. As the crowd closed in upon the circumstance of Justice, he +turned to me again, spat, and went on-- + +"--Cordely Pinsent, widow of old Key Pinsent, that was tailor to +all the grandees in the county so far back as I can mind. She's +eighty-odd; eighty-five if a day. I can just mind Key Pinsent--a +great, red, rory-cumtory chap, with a high stock and a wig like King +George--'my royal patron' he called 'en, havin' by some means got +leave to hoist the king's arms over his door. Such mighty portly +manners, too--Oh, very spacious, I assure 'ee! Simme I can see the old +Trojan now, with his white weskit bulgin' out across his doorway like +a shop-front hung wi' jewels. Gout killed 'en. I went to his buryin'; +such a stretch of experience does a young man get by time he reaches +my age. God bless your heart alive, _I_ can mind when they were hung +for forgery!" + +"Who were hung?" + +"People," he answered vaguely; "and young Willie Pinsent." + +"This woman's son?" + +"Ay, her son--her ewe-lamb of a child. 'Tis very seldom brought up +agen her now, poor soul! She's so very old that folks forgits about +it. Do 'ee see her window yonder, over the ope?" + +He was pointing across to the soiled white blind that still looked +blankly over the street, its lower edge caught up at one corner by a +dusty geranium. + +"I saw her pull it down." + +"Ah, you would if you was lookin' that way. I've a-seed her do 't a +score o' times. Well, when the gout reached Key Pinsent's stomach and +he went off like the snuff of a candle at the age of forty-two, she +was left unprovided, with a son of thirteen to maintain or go 'pon the +parish. She was a Menhennick, tho', from t'other side o' the Duchy--a +very proud family--and didn't mean to dip the knee to nobody, and all +the less because she'd demeaned hersel', to start with, by wedding a +tailor. But Key Pinsent by all allowance was handsome as blazes, and +well-informed up to a point that he read Shakespeare for the mere +pleasure o't. + +"Well, she sold up the stock-in-trade an' hired a couple o' rooms--the +self-same rooms you see: and then she ate less 'n a mouse an' took in +needle-work, plain an' fancy: for a lot o' the gentry's wives round +the neighbourhood befriended her--though they had to be sly an' hide +that they meant it for a favour, or she'd ha' snapped their heads off. +An' all the while, she was teachin' her boy and tellin' 'en, whatever +happened, to remember he was a gentleman, an' lovin' 'en with all the +strength of a desolate woman. + +"This Willie Pinsent was a comely boy, too: handsome as old Key, an' +quick at his books. He'd a bold masterful way, bein' proud as ever his +mother was, an' well knowin' there wasn' his match in Tregarrick for +head-work. Such a beautiful hand he wrote! When he was barely turned +sixteen they gave 'en a place in Gregory's Bank--Wilkins an' Gregory +it was in those aged times. He still lived home wi' his mother, +rentin' a room extra out of his earnin's, and turnin' one of the +bedrooms into a parlour. That's the very room you're lookin' at. And +when any father in Tregarrick had a bone to pick with his sons, he'd +advise 'em to take example by young Pinsent--'so clever and good, too, +there was no tellin' what he mightn't come to in time.' + +"Well-a-well, to cut it short, the lad was too clever. It came out, +after, that he'd took to bettin' his employers' money agen the rich +men up at the Royal Exchange. An' the upshot was that one evenin', +while he was drinkin' tea with his mother in his lovin' light-hearted +way, in walks a brace o' constables, an' says, 'William Pinsent, +young chap, I arrest thee upon a charge o' counterfeitin' old +Gregory's handwritin', which is a hangin' matter!' + +"An' now, sir, comes the cur'ous part o' the tale; for, if you'll +believe me, this poor woman wouldn' listen to it--wouldn' hear a word +o't. 'What! my son Willie,' she flames, hot as Lucifer--'my son Willie +a forger! My boy, that I've missed, an' reared up, an' studied, +markin' all his pretty takin' ways since he learn'd to crawl! +Gentlemen,' she says, standin' up an' facin' 'em down, 'what mother +knows her son, if not I? I give you my word it's all a mistake.' + +"Ay, an' she would have it no other. While her son was waitin' his +trial in jail, she walked the streets with her head high, scornin' the +folk as she passed. Not a soul dared to speak pity; an' one afternoon, +when old Gregory hissel' met her and began to mumble that 'he +trusted,' an' 'he had little doubt,' an' 'nobody would be gladder than +he if it proved to be a mistake,' she held her skirt aside an' went by +with a look that turned 'en to dirt, as he said. 'Gad!' said he, 'she +couldn' ha' looked at me worse if I'd been a tab!' meanin' to say +'instead o' the richest man in Tregarrick.' + +"But her greatest freak was seen when th' Assizes came. Sir, she +wouldn' even go to the trial. She disdained it. An' when, that +mornin', the judges had driven by her window, same as they drove +to-day, what d'ee think she did? + +"She began to lay the cloth up in the parlour yonder, an' there set +out the rarest meal, ready for her boy. There was meats, roasted +chickens, an' a tongue, an' a great ham. There was cheese-cakes that +she made after a little secret of her own; an' a bowl of junket, +an inch deep in cream, that bein' his pet dish; an' all kind o' +knick-knacks, wi' grapes an' peaches, an' apricots, an' decanters o' +wine, white an' red. Ay, sir, there was even crackers for mother an' +son to pull together, with scraps o' poetry inside. An' flowers--the +table was bloomin' with flowers. For weeks she'd been plannin' it: an' +all the forenoon she moved about an' around that table, givin' it +a touch here an' a touch there, an' takin' a step back to see how +beautiful it looked. An' then, as the day wore on, she pulled a chair +over by the window, an' sat down, an' waited. + +"In those days a capital trial was kept up till late into the night, +if need were. By-an'-by she called up her little servin' gal that was +then (she's a gran'mother now), an' sends her down to the court-house +to learn how far the trial had got, an' run back with the news. + +"Down runs Selina Mary, an' back with word-- + +"'They're a-summin'-up,' says she. + +"Then Mrs. Pinsent went an' lit eight candles. Four she set 'pon the +table, an' four 'pon the mantel-shelf. You could see the blaze out +in the street, an' the room lit up, wi' the flowers, an' fruit, an' +shinin' glasses--red and yellow dahlias the flowers were, that bein' +the time o' year. An' over each candle she put a little red silk +shade. You never saw a place look cosier. Then she went back an' +waited: but in half-an-hour calls to Selina Mary agen: + +"'Selina Mary, run you back to the courthouse, an' bring word how far +they've got.' + +"So the little slip of a maid ran back, and this time 'twas-- + +"'Missis, the judge has done; an' now they're considerin' about Master +Willie.' + +"So the poor woman sat a while longer, an' then she calls: + +"'Selina Mary, run down agen, an' as he comes out, tell 'en to hurry. +They must be finished by now.' + +"The maid was gone twenty minutes this time. The evenin' was hot an' +the window open; an' now all the town that wasn' listenin' to the +trial was gathered in front, gazin' cur'ously at the woman inside. She +was tittivatin' the table for the fiftieth time, an' touchin' up the +flowers that had drooped a bit i' the bowls. + +"But after twenty minutes Selina Mary came runnin' up the street, an' +fetched her breath at the front door, and went upstairs slowly and +'pon tip-toe. Her face at the parlour door was white as paper; an' +while she stood there the voices o' the crowd outside began to take +all one tone, and beat into the room like the sound o' waves 'pon a +beach. + +"'Oh, missis--' she begins. + +"'Have they finished?' + +"The poor cheald was only able to nod. + +"'Then, where's Willie? Why isn't he here?' + +"'Oh, missis, they're goin' to hang 'en!' + +"Mrs. Pinsent moved across the room, took her by the arm, led her +downstairs, an' gave her a little push out into the street. Not a word +did she say, but shut the door 'pon her, very gentle-like. Then she +went back an' pulled the blind down slowly. The crowd outside watched +her do it. Her manner was quite ord'nary. They stood there for a +minute or so, an' behind the blind the eight candles went out, one by +one. By the time the judges passed homeward 'twas all dark, only the +blind showin' white by the street lamp opposite. From that year to +this she has pulled it down whenever a judge drives by." + + + + +A GOLDEN WEDDING. + + +On the very spot which the railway station has usurped, with its long +slate roof, wooden signal-box, and advertisements in blue and white +enamel, I can recall a still pool shining between beds of the +flowering rush; and to this day, as I wait for the train, the whir of +a vanished water-wheel comes up the valley. Sometimes I have caught +myself gazing along the curve of the narrow-gauge in full expectation +to see a sagged and lichen-covered roof at the end of it. And +sometimes, of late, it has occurred to me that there never was such a +mill as I used to know down yonder; and that the miller, whose coat +was always powdered so fragrantly, was but a white ghost, after all. +The station-master and porters remember no such person. + +But he was no ghost; for I have met him again this week, and upon the +station platform. I had started at daybreak to fish up the stream +that runs down the valley in curves roughly parallel to the railway +embankment; and coming within sight of the station, a little before +noon, I put up my tackle and strolled towards the booking-office. The +water was much too fine for sport, and it seemed worth while to break +off for a pipe and a look at the 12.26 train. Such are the simple +pleasures of a country life. + +I leant my rod against the wall, and was setting down my creel, when, +glancing down the platform, I saw an old man seated on the furthest +bench. Everybody knows how a passing event, or impression, sometimes +appears but a vain echo of previous experience. Something in the lines +of this old man's figure, as he leaned forward with both hands clasped +upon his staff, gave me the sensation. "All this has happened before," +I told myself. "He and I are playing over again some small and futile +scene in our past lives. I wonder who he is, and what is the use of +it?" + +But there was something wanting in the picture to complete its +resemblance to the scene for which I searched my memory. + +The man had bent further forward, and was resting his chin on his +hands and staring apathetically across the rails. Suddenly it dawned +on me that there ought to be another figure on the bench--the figure +of an old woman; and my memory ran back to the day after this railway +was opened, when this man and his wife had sat together on the +platform waiting to see the train come in--that fascinating monster +whose advent had blotted out the very foundations of the old mill and +driven its tenants to a strange home. + +The mill had disappeared many months before that, but the white dust +still hung in the creases of the miller's clothes. He wore his Sunday +hat and the Sunday polish on his shoes; and his wife was arrayed in +her best Paisley shawl. She carried also a bunch of cottage flowers, +withering in her large hot hand. It was clear they had never seen a +locomotive before, and wished to show it all respect. They had taken +a smaller house in the next valley, where they attempted to live on +their savings; and had been trying vainly and pitifully to struggle +with all the little habits that had been their life for thirty-five +years, and to adapt them to new quarters. Their faces were weary, +but flushed with expectation. The man kept looking up the line, and +declaring that he heard the rumble of the engine in the distance; and +whenever he said this, his wife pulled the shawl more primly about her +shoulders, straightened her back, and nervously re-arranged her posy. + +When at length the whistle screamed out, at the head of the vale, I +thought they were going to tumble off the bench. The woman went white +to the lips, and stole her disengaged hand into her husband's. + +"Startlin' at first, hey?" he said, bravely winning back his +composure: "but 'tis wunnerful what control the driver has, they tell +me. They only employ the cleverest men--" + +A rattle and roar drowned the rest of his words, and he blinked and +leant back, holding the woman's hand and tapping it softly as the +engine rushed down with a blast of white vapour hissing under its fore +wheels, and the carriages clanked upon each other, and the whole train +came to a standstill before us. + +The station-master and porter walked down the line of carriages, +bawling out the name of the station. The driver leaned out over his +rail, and the guard, standing by the door of his van, with a green +flag under his arm, looked enquiringly at me and at the old couple on +the bench. But I had only strolled up to have a look at the new train, +and meant to resume my fishing as soon as it had passed. And the +miller sat still, holding his wife's hand. + +They were staring with all their eyes--not resentfully, though face to +face with the enemy that had laid waste their habitation and swept all +comfort out of their lives; but with a simple awe. Manifestly, too, +they expected something more to happen. I saw the old woman searching +the incurious features of the few passengers, and I thought her own +features expressed some disappointment. + +"This," observed the guard scornfully, pulling out his watch as he +spoke, "is what you call traffic in these parts." + +The station-master was abashed, and forced a deprecatory laugh. The +guard--who was an up-country man--treated this laugh with contempt, +and blew his whistle sharply. The driver answered, and the train moved +on. + +I was gazing after it when a woeful exclamation drew my attention back +to the bench. + +"Why, 'tis gone!" + +"Gone?" echoed the miller's wife. "Of course 'tis gone; and of all the +dilly-dallyin' men, I must say, John, you'm the dilly-dalliest. Why +didn' you say we wanted to ride?" + +"I thought, maybe, they'd have axed us. 'Twouldn' ha' been polite to +thrust oursel's forrard if they didn' want our company. Besides, I +thought they'd be here for a brave while--" + +"You was always a man of excuses. You knew I'd set my heart 'pon this +feat." + +I had left them to patch up their little quarrel. But the scene stuck +in my memory, and now, as I walked down the platform towards the +single figure on the bench, I wondered, amusedly, if the woman had at +length taken the ride alone, and if the procrastinating husband sat +here to welcome her back. + +As I drew near, I took note of his clothes for the first time. +There was no white dust in the creases to-day. In fact, he wore the +workhouse suit. + +I sat down beside him, and asked if he remembered a certain small boy +who had used to draw dace out of his mill-pond. With some difficulty +he recalled my features, and by decrees let out the story of his life +during the last ten years. + +He and his wife had fought along in their new house, hiding their +discomfort from each other, and abiding the slow degrees by which +their dwelling should change into a home. But before that change was +worked, the woman fell under a paralytic stroke, and their savings, on +which they had just contrived to live, threatened to be swallowed up +by the doctor's bill. After considering long, the miller wrote off to +his only son, a mechanic in the Plymouth Dockyard, and explained the +case. This son was a man of forty or thereabouts, was married, and had +a long family. He could not afford to take the invalid into his house +for nothing; but his daughters would look after their grandmother and +she should have good medical care as well, if she came on a small +allowance. + +"So the only thing to be done, sir, was for my old woman to go." + +"And you--?" + +"Oh, I went into the 'House.' You see, there wasn' enough for both, +livin' apart." + +I stared down the line to the spot where the mill-wheel had hummed +so pleasantly, and the compassionate sentence I was about to utter +withered up and died on my lips. + +"But to-day--Oh, to-day, sir--" + +"What's happening to-day?" + +"She's comin' down to see me for an hour or two; an' I've got a +holiday to meet her. 'Tis our Golden Weddin', sir." + +"But why are you meeting her at this station instead of Tregarrick? +She can't walk, and you have no horse and trap; whereas there's always +a 'bus at Tregarrick." + +"Well, you see, sir, there's a very tidy little cottage below where +they sell ginger-beer, an' I've got a whack o' vittles in the basket +here, besides what William is bringin'--William an' his wife are +comin' down with her. They'll take her back by the last train up; an' +I thought, as 'twas so little a while, an' the benches here are so +comfortable, we'd pass our day 'pon the platform here. 'Tis within +sight o' the old home, too, or ruther o' the spot where the old home +used to be: an' though 'tis little notice she seems to take o' things, +one never can tell if poor creatures in that state _hain't_ pleased +behind all their dazed looks. What do you think, sir?" + +The whistle sounded up the valley, and mercifully prevented my answer. +I saw the woman for an instant as she was brought out of the train and +carried to the bench. She did not recognise the man she had married +fifty years before: but as we moved out of the station, he was sitting +beside her, his face transfigured with a solemn joy. + + + + +SCHOOL FRIENDS. + + +"What ho, there!" + +At this feudal summons I turned, and spied the Bashaw elbowing his way +towards me through the Fleet Street crowd, his hat and tie askew and +his big face a red beacon of goodwill. He fell on my neck, and we +embraced. + +"Is me recreant child returned? Is he tired at last av annihilatin' +all that's made to a green thought in a green shade? An' did he +homesickun by the Cornish Coast for the Street that Niver Sleeps, +an' the whirroo an' stink av her, an' the _foomum et opase +strepitumké_--to drink delight av battle with his peers, an' see the +great Achilles whom he knew--meanin' meself?" The Bashaw's style in +conversation, as in print, bristles with allusion. + +I shook my head. + +"I go back to-morrow, I hope. Business brought me up, and as soon as +it's settled I pack." + +"Too quick despairer--but I take it ye'll be bound just now for the +Cheese. Right y'are; and I'll do meself the honour to lunch wid ye, at +your expense." + +Everyone knows and loves the Bashaw, _alias_ the O'Driscoll, that +genial failure. Generations of Fleet Street youths have taken advice +and help from him: have prospered, grown reputable, rich, and even +famous: and have left him where he stood. Nobody can remember the time +when O'Driscoll was not; though, to judge from his appearance, he must +have stepped upon the town from between the covers of an illustrated +keepsake, such as our grandmothers loved--so closely he resembles the +Corsair of that period, with his ripe cheeks, melting eyes, and black +curls that twist like the young tendrils of a vine. The curls are +dyed now-a-days, and his waist is not what it used to be in the +picture-books; but time has worn nothing off his temper. He is +perennially enthusiastic, and can still beat any journalist in London +in describing a Lord Mayor's Show. + +"You behould in me," he went on, with a large hand on my shoulder, +"the victum av a recent eviction--a penniless outcast. 'Tis no +beggar's petition that I'll be profferin', however, but a bargun. Give +me a salad, a pint av hock, an' fill me pipe wid the Only Mixture, +an' I'll repay ye across the board wid a narrative--the sort av +God-forsaken, ord'nary thrifle that you youngsters turn into copy--may +ye find forgiveness! 'Tis no use to me whatever. Ted O'Driscoll's +instrument was iver the big drum, and he knows his limuts." + +"Yes, me boy," he resumed, five minutes later, as he sat in the +Cheshire Cheese, beneath Dr. Johnson's portrait, balancing a +black-handled knife between his first and second fingers, and nodding +good-fellowship to every journalist in the room, "the apartment in +Bloomsbury is desolut; the furnichur'--what was lift av ut--disparsed; +the leopard an' the lizard keep the courts where O'Driscoll gloried +an' drank deep; an' the wild ass--meanin' by that the midical student +on the fourth floor--stamps overhead, but cannot break his sleep. I've +been evicted: that's the long and short av ut. Lord help me!--I'd have +fared no worse in the ould country--here's to her! Think what immortal +copy I'd have made out av the regrettable incident over there!" His +voice broke, but not for self-pity. It always broke when he mentioned +Ireland. + +"Is it comfort ye'd be speakin'?" he began again, filling his glass. +"Me dear fellow, divvle a doubt I'll fetch round tight an' safe. Ould +Mick Sullivan--he that built the _Wild Girl_, the fastest vessel that +iver put out av Limerick--ould Mick Sullivan used to swear he'd make +any ship seaworthy that didn' leak worse than a five-barred gate. An' +that's me, more or less. I'm an ould campaigner. But listen to this. +Me feelin's have been wrung this day, and that sorely. I promised ye +the story, an' I must out wid ut, whether or no." + +It was the hour when the benches of the Cheese begin to empty. My work +was over for the day, and I disposed myself to listen. + +"The first half I spent at the acadimy where they flagellated the +rudiments av polite learnin' into me small carcuss, I made a friend. +He was the first I iver made, though not the last, glory be to God! +But first friendship is like first love for the sweet taste it puts in +the mouth. Niver but once in his life will a man's heart dance to that +chune. 'Twas a small slip of a Saxon lad that it danced for then: a +son av a cursed agint, that I should say it. But sorra a thought had I +for the small boccawn's nationality nor for his own father's trade. +I only knew the friendship in his pretty eyes an' the sweetness that +knit our two sowls togither, like David's an' Jonathan's. Pretty it +was to walk togither, an' discourse, an' get the strap togither for +heaven knows what mischief, an' consowl each other for our broken +skins. He'd a wonderful gift at his books, for which I reverenced um, +and at the single-stick, for which I loved um. Niver to this day did +I call up the ould play-ground widout behowldin' that one boy, though +all the rest av the faces (the master's included) were vague as +wather--wather in which that one pair av eyes was reflected. + +"The school was a great four-square stone buildin' beside a windy +road, and niver a tree in sight; but pastures where the grass would +cut your boot, an' stone walls, an' brown hills around, like the rim +av a saucer. All belonged to the estate that Jemmy Nichol's father +managed--a bankrupt property, or next door to that. It's done better +since he gave up the place; but when I've taken a glance at the +landscape since (as I have, once or twice) I see no difference. To me +'tis the naked land I looked upon the last day av the summer half, +when I said good-bye to Jemmy; for he was lavin' the school that same +afternoon for Dublin, to cross over to England wid his father. + +"Sick at heart was I, an' filled already wid the heavy sense of +solitariness, as we stood by the great iron gate wishin' one another +fare-ye-well. + +"'Jemmy avick,' says I, 'dull, dull will it be widout ye here. And, +Jemmy--send some av my heart back to me when ye write, as ye promise +to do.' + +"'Wheniver I lay me down, Ned,' he answered me (though by nature a +close-hearted English boy), 'I'll think o' ye; an' wheniver I rise up +I'll think o' ye. May the Lord do so to me, an' more also, if I cease +from lovin' ye till my life's end.' + +"So we kissed like a pair av girls, and off he was driven, leavin' a +great hollow inside the rim av the hills. An' I ran up to the windy +dormitory, stumblin' at ivery third step for the blindin' tears, and +watched um from the window there growin' small along the road. 'Ye +Mountains av Gilboa,' said I, shakin' my fist at the hills, 'let there +be no dew, neither let there be rain upon ye;' for I hated the place +now that Jemmy was gone. + +"Well, 'twas the ould story--letters at first in plenty, then fewer, +then none at all. Long before I came over to try my luck I'd lost all +news of Jem: didn't know his address, even. Nor till to-day have I set +eyes on um. He's bald-headed, me boy, and crooked-faytured, to-day; +but I knew him for Jemmy in the first kick av surprise. + +"I was evicted this mornin', as I've towld ye. Six years I've hung me +hat up in those same apartments in Bloomsbury; and, till last year, +aisy enough I found me landlord over a quarter's rent or two overjue. +But last midsummer year the house changed hands; and bedad it began to +be 'pay or quit.' This day it was 'quit.' The new landlord came up the +stairs at the head av the ejectin' army: I got up from breakfast to +open the door to um. I'd never set eyes on um since I'd been his +tenant. Bedad, it was Jemmy!" + +O'Driscoll paused, and poured himself another glass of hock. + +"So I suppose," I said, "you ran into each other's arms, and kissed +again with tears?" + +"Then you suppose wrong," said he, and sat for a moment or two silent, +fingering the stem of his glass. Then he added, more gently-- + +"I looked in the face av um, and said to meself, 'Jemmy doesn't +remember me. If I introduce meself, I wonder what'll he do? Will he +love me still, or will he turn me out?' An' by the Lord I didn't care +to risk ut! I couldn't dare to lose that last illusion; an' so I put +on me hat an' walked out, tellin' him nothing at all." + + + + +PARENTS AND CHILDREN. + + +I.--THE FAMILY BIBLE + +There lived a young man at Tregarrick called Robert Haydon. His father +was not a native of the town, but had settled there early in life and +became the leading solicitor of the place. At the age of thirty-seven +he married the daughter of a county magistrate, and by this step +bettered his position considerably. By the time that Robert was born +his parents' standing was very satisfactory. They were living well +inside an income of £1,200 a year, had about £8,000 (consisting +of Mrs. Haydon's dowry and Mr. Haydon's bachelor savings) safely +invested, and were on visiting terms with several of the lesser county +families. + +In other respects they were just as fortunate. They had a sincere +affection for each other, and coincident opinions on the proper +conduct of life. They were people into whose heads a misgiving seldom +or never penetrated. Their religious beliefs and the path of social +duty stood as plain before them as their front gate and as narrow as +the bridge which Mohammedans construct over hell. They loved Bob--who +of four children was their only son--and firmly intended to do their +best for him; and as they knew what was best for him, it followed +that Bob must conform. He was a light-coloured, docile boy, with a +pleasantly ingenuous face and an affectionate disposition; and he +loved his parents, and learned to lean on them. + +They sent him in time to Marlborough, where he wrote Latin verses of +slightly unusual merit, and bowled with a break from the off which +meant that there lay a thin vein of genius somewhere inside of him. +When once collared, his bowling became futile; success made it deadly, +and on one occasion in a school match against the M.C.C. he did things +at Lord's which caused a thin gathering of spectators--the elderly +men who never miss a match--to stare at him very attentively as he +returned to the pavilion. They thought it worth while to ask, "Which +'Varsity was he bound for?" + +Bob was bound for neither. He had to inherit, and consented to +inherit, his father's practice without question. His consuming desire +to go up to Oxford he hinted at once, and once only, in a conversation +with his father; but Mr. Haydon "did not care to expose his son to the +temptations which beset young men at the Universities"--this was +the very text--and preferred to keep him under his own eye in the +seclusion of Tregarrick. + +To a young man who is being shielded from temptation in a small +provincial town there usually happens one of two things. Either he +takes to drink or to discreditable essays in love-making. It is to +Bob's credit that he did neither; a certain delicate sanity in the +fellow kept him from these methods of killing time. Instead, he spent +his evenings at home; listened to his parents' talk; accepted their +opinions on human conduct and affairs; and tumbled honourably into +love with his sisters' governess. + +Ethel Ormiston, the governess, was about a year older than Bob, good +to look at, and the only being who understood what ailed Bob's soul +during this time. She was in prison herself, poor woman. Mrs. Haydon +asserted afterwards that Miss Ormiston had "deliberately set herself +to inveigle" the boy; but herein Mrs. Haydon was mistaken. As a matter +of fact Bob, having discovered someone obliging and intelligent enough +to listen, dinned the story of his aspirations into the girl's ear +with the persistent egoism of a hobbedehoy. It must be allowed, +however, that the counsel she gave him would have annoyed his parents +excessively. + +"But I do sympathise with you," she said after listening to an +immoderately long and peevish harangue; "and I should advise you to +go to your father, as a first step, and ask to be paid a very small +salary for the work you do--enough to set up in lodgings alone. At +present you are pauperising yourself." + +Bob did not quite understand--so she explained: + +"You are twenty-one, and still receiving food and lodging from your +parents as a dole. At your age, if a man receives anything at all from +father or mother, he should be earning it as a right." + +She spoke impatiently, and longed to add that he was also +impoverishing his intellect. She felt a touch of contempt for him; but +a touch of contempt may go with love, and, indeed, competent observers +have held that this mixture makes the very finest cement. Certain it +is that when Bob answered pathetically, "But I don't want to leave +this roof, I--I _can't_, Miss Ormiston, you know!" she missed her +opportunity of pointing out that this confession stultified every one +of his previous utterances. She began a sentence, indeed, but broke +off, with her grey eyes fixed on the ground; and when at length she +lifted them, Bob felt something take him by the throat. The few +words he proceeded to blurt out stunned him much as if a grenade had +exploded close at hand. But when Miss Ormiston burst into tears and +declared she must go upstairs at once and pack her box, he recovered, +and, looking about, found the aspect of the world bewilderingly +changed. There were valleys where hills had stood a moment before. + +"I'll go at once and tell my father," he said, drawing a full breath +and looking like the man he was for the moment. + +"And," sobbed Miss Ormiston, "I'll go at once and pack my box." + +Herein she showed foresight, for as soon as Bob's interview with his +father was over, she was commanded to leave the premises in time to +catch the early train next morning. + +Then the Haydon family sat down and talked to Bob. + +They began by pooh-poohing the affair. Then, inconsequently, they +talked of disgrace, and of scratching his name out of the Family +Bible, and said they would rather follow him to his grave than see him +married to Miss Ormiston. Lastly, Mrs. Haydon asked Bob who had nursed +him, and taught him to walk, and read and know virtue when he saw it. +Bob, in the words of the poet, replied, "My mother." "Very well then," +said Mrs. Haydon. + +After forty-eight hours of this Bob wrote to Miss Ormiston, saying, +"My father's indignation is natural, and can only be conquered by +time. But I love you always." + +Miss Ormiston replied, "Your father's indignation is natural, perhaps. +But if you love me, it might be conquered by something else," or words +to that effect. At any rate, her letter implied that as it was Bob, +and not his father, who proposed to make her a wife, it was on Bob, +and not on his father, that she laid the responsibility of fulfilling +the promise. + +But Bob was weak as water. Love had given him one brief glimpse of the +real world: then his father and mother began to talk, and the covers +of the Family Bible closed like gates upon his prospect. At the end +of a week he wrote--"Nothing shall shake me, dear Ethel. Still, some +consideration is due to them; for I am their only son." + +To this Ethel Ormiston sent no answer; but reflected "And what +consideration is due to me? for you are my only lover." + +For a while Bob thought of enlisting, and then of earning an honest +wage as a farm-labourer; but rejected both notions, because his +training had not taught him that independence is better than +respectability--yea, than much broadcloth. It was not that he hankered +after the fleshpots, but that he had no conception of a world without +fleshpots. In the end his father came to him and said-- + +"Will you give up this girl?" + +And Bob answered-- + +"I'm sorry, father, but I can't." + +"Very well. Rather than see this shame brought on the family, I will +send you out to Australia. I have written to my friend Morris, at +Ballawag, New South Wales, three hundred miles from Sydney, and he is +ready to take you into his office. You have broken my heart and your +mother's, and you must go." + +And Bob--this man of twenty-one or more--obeyed his father in this, +and went. I can almost forgive him, knowing how the filial habit +blinds a man. But I cannot forgive the letter he wrote to Miss +Ormiston--whom he wished to make his wife, please remember. +Nevertheless she forgave him. She had found another situation, and was +working on. Her parents were dead. + +Five years passed, and Bob's mother died--twelve years, and his father +died also, leaving him the lion's share of the money. During this time +Bob had worked away at Ballawag and earned enough to set up as lawyer +on his own account. But because a man cannot play fast and loose with +the self-will that God gave him and afterwards expect to do much +in the world, he was a moderately unsuccessful man still when the +inheritance dropped in. It gave him a fair income for life. When the +letter containing the news reached him, he left the office, walked +back to his house, and began to think. Then he unlocked his safe and +took out Ethel Ormiston's letters. They made no great heap; for of +late their correspondence had dwindled to an annual exchange of +good wishes at Christmas. She was still earning her livelihood as a +governess. + +Bob thought for a week, and then wrote. He asked Ethel Ormiston to +come out and be his wife. You will observe that the old curse still +lay on him. A man--even a poor one--that was worth kicking would have +gone and fetched her; and Bob had plenty of money. But he asked her to +come out and begged her to cable "Yes" or "No." + +She cabled "Yes." She would start within the month from Plymouth, in +the sailing-ship _Grimaldi_. She chose a sailing-ship because it was +cheaper. + +So Bob travelled down to Sydney to welcome his bride. He stepped on +the _Grimaldi's_ deck within five minutes of her arrival, and asked +if a Miss Ormiston were on board. There advanced a middle-aged woman, +gaunt, wrinkled and unlovely--not the woman he had chosen, but the +woman he had made. + +"Ethel?" was all he found to say. + +"Yes, Bob; I am Ethel. And God forgive you." + +Of the change in him she said nothing; but held out her hand with a +smile. + +"Marry me, Bob, or send me back: I give you leave to do either, and +advise you to send me back. Twelve years ago you might have been proud +of me, and so I might have helped you. As it is, I have travelled far, +and am tired. I can never help you now." + +And though he married her, she never did. + + +II.--BOANERGES. + +"Bill Penberthy's come back, I hear." + +The tin-smith was sharpening his pocket-knife on the parapet of the +bridge, and, without troubling to lift his eyes, threw just enough +interrogation into the remark to show that he meant it to lead to +conversation. Every one of the dozen men around him held a knife, so +that a stranger, crossing the bridge, might have suspected a popular +rising in the village. But, as a matter of fact, they were merely +waiting for their turn. There is in the parapet one stone upon which +knives may be sharpened to an incomparable edge; and, for longer +than I can remember, this has supplied the men of Gantick with the +necessary excuse for putting their heads together on fine evenings and +discussing the news. + +"Ay, he's back." + +"Losh, Uncle, I'd no idea you was there," said the tin-smith, wheeling +round. "And how's your lad looking?" + +"Tolerable--tolerable. 'A's got a black suit, my sonnies, and a white +tie, and a soft hat that looks large on the head, but can be folded +and stowed in your tail pocket." Complacency shone over the speaker's +shrivelled cheeks, and beamed from his horn-spectacles. "You can tell +'en at a glance for a Circuit-man and no common Rounder." + +"'A's fully knowledgeable by all accounts; learnt out, they tell me." + +"You shall hear 'en for yourselves at meeting to-morrow. He conducts +both services. Now don't tempt me any more, that's good souls: for +when he'd no sooner set foot in th' house and kissed his mother than +he had us all down on our knees giving hearty thanks in the most +beautiful language, I said to myself, 'many's the time I've had two +minds about the money spent in making ye a better man than your +father;' but fare thee well, doubt! I don't begrudge it, an' there's +an end." + +A small girl came running down the street to the bridge-end. + +"Uncle Penberthy," she panted, "your tall son--Mr. William--said I +was to run down and fetch 'ee home at once." + +"Nothin' wrong with 'en, I hope?" + +"I think he's going to hold a prayer." + +The little man looked at the blade of his knife for a moment, half +regretfully: then briskly clasped it, slipped it into his pocket, and +hobbled away after the messenger. + +The whitewashed front of the Meeting House was bathed, next evening, +with soft sunset yellow when Mr. Penberthy the elder stole down +the stairs between the exhortations, as his custom was, and stood +bareheaded in the doorway respiring the cool air. As a deacon he +temperately used the privileges of his office, and one of these was +a seat next the door. The Meeting House was really no more than a +room--a long upper chamber over a store; and its stairway descended +into the street so sharply that it was possible, even for a +short-armed man, to sit on the lowest step and shake hands with a +friend in the street. + +The roadway was deserted for a while. Across the atmosphere there +reigned that hush which people wonder at on Sundays, forgetting that +nature is always still and that nine-tenths of the week's hubbub is +made by man. Down the pale sky came a swallow, with another in chase: +their wings were motionless as they swept past the doorway, but the +air whizzed with the speed of their flight, and in a moment was silent +again. Then from the upper room a man's voice began to roar out upon +the stillness. It roared, it broke out in thick sobs that shook the +closed windows in their fastenings, it wrestled with emotion for +utterance, and, overcoming it, rose into a bellow again; but, whether +soaring or depressed, the strain upon it was never relaxed. Uncle +Penberthy, listening to his son, felt an oppression of his own chest +and drew his breath uneasily. + +The tin-smith came round the corner and halted by the door. + +"That son o' yours is a boundless man," he observed with an upward +nod. + +"How did he strike ye this morning?" + +"I don't remember to have been so powerfully moved in my life. Perhaps +you and me being cronies for thirty year, and he your very son, may +have helped to the more effectual working; but be that as it may, I +couldn't master my dinner afterwards, and that's the trewth. Ah, he's +a man, Uncle; and there's no denying we wanted one of that sort to +awaken us to a fit sense. What a dido he do kick up, to be sure!" + +The tin-smith shifted his footing uneasily as if he had something to +add. + +"I hope you won't think it onneighbourly or disrespectful that I didn' +come agen this evenin'," he begun, after a pause. + +"Not at all, Jem, not at all." + +"Because, you see--" + +"Yes, yes, I quite see." + +"I wouldn' have ye think--but there, I'm powerful glad you see." His +face cleared. "Good evenin' to ye, Uncle!" + +He went on with a brisker step, while Uncle Penberthy drew a few more +lingering breaths and climbed the stairs again to the close air of the +meeting-room. + +"I'm afraid, father, that something in my second exhortation +displeased you," said the Rev. William Penberthy as he walked home +from service between his parents. He was a tall fellow with a +hatchet-shaped face and eyes set rather closely together. + +"Not at all, my son. What makes ye deem it?" The little man tilted +back his bronzed top-hat and looked up nervously. + +"Because you went out in the middle of service." + +"'Tis but father's habit, William," old Mrs. Penberthy made haste to +explain, laying a hand on his arm. She was somewhat stouter of build +and louder of voice than her husband, but stood in just the same awe +of her son. "He's done it regular since he was appointed deacon." + +"Why?" asked William, stonily. + +Uncle Penberthy pulled off his hat to extract a red handkerchief from +its crown, removed his spectacles, and wiped them hurriedly. + +"Them varmints of boys," he stammered, "be so troublesome round the +door--occasion'lly, that is." + +"Was that so to-night?" + +"Why, no." + +"But you were absent at least twenty minutes--all through the silent +prayer and half way through the third exhortation." He gazed sternly +at the amiable old man. "You didn't hear me treat that difficulty +in Colossians, two, twenty to twenty-three? If you have time, we'll +discuss it after private worship to-night. If I can make you see it +in what I am sure is the right light, it will lead you to think more +seriously of that glass of beer you have fallen into the habit of +taking with your supper." + +It is but a fortnight since the Rev. William Penberthy came home; but +in that fortnight his father and mother have aged ten years. The +old man, when I took him my watch to regulate the other day--for on +week-days he is a watch-maker--began to ask questions, as eagerly as a +child, about the village news. It turned out that, for a whole week, +he had not been down to sharpen his knife upon the bridge. He has +given up his glass of beer, too, and altogether the zeal of his house +is eating him up. + +This morning the new minister climbed into the van with his +carpet-bag. He is off to some Conference or other, and will be back +again the day after to-morrow. Ten minutes after he had gone his +father and mother shut up the shop and went out together. They mean +to take a whole holiday and hear all the news. It was pitiful to +see their fumbling haste as they helped one another to put up the +shutters; and almost more pitiful to mark, as they hurried down the +street arm in arm, their conscientious but feeble endeavour to look +something more staid than a couple of children just out of school. + + + + +TWO MONUMENTS. + + +MY DEAR YOUNG LADY,-- + +Our postman here does not deliver parcels until the afternoon--which +nobody grumbles at, because of his infirmity and his long and useful +career. The manuscript, therefore, of your novel, _Sunshine and +Shadow_, has not yet reached me. But your letter--in which, you beg me +to send an opinion upon the work, with some advice upon your chances +of success in literature--I found on my breakfast-table, as well +as the photograph which you desire (perhaps wisely) to face the +title-page. I trust you will forgive the slight stain in the lower +left-hand corner of the portrait, which I return: for it is the +strawberry-season here, and in course of my reflections I had the +misfortune to let the cardboard slip between my fingers and fall +across the edge of the plate. + +I have taken the resolution to send my advice before it can be +shaken by a perusal of _Sunshine and Shadow_. But it is difficult +nevertheless. I might say bluntly that, unless the camera lies, your +face is not one to stake against Fame over a game of hazard. You +remember John Lyly's "Cupid and my Campaspe"?--and how Cupid losing, + + "_down he throws + The coral of his lip, the rose + Growing on's cheek (but none lenows how)_ ..." + +--and so on, with the rest of his charms, one by one? I might assure +you that when maidens play against Fame they risk all these treasures +and more, without hope of leniency from their opponent, who (you will +note) is the same sex. But you will answer by return of post, that +this is no business of mine, and that I exhibit the usual impertinence +of man when asked to consider woman's serious aspiration. You will +protest that you are ready to stake all this. Very well, then: listen, +if you have patience, to a little story that I came upon, a week +since, about a man who spent his days at this game of hazard. It was +called _The Two Monuments_. + +When the Headmaster of the Grammar-School came to add up the marks +for the term's work and examination--which he always did without a +mistake--it was discovered that in the Upper Fourth (the top form) +Thompson had beaten Jenkins _major_ by sixteen. So Thompson received +a copy of the _Memoirs of Eminent Etonians_, bound in tree-calf, and +took it home under his arm, wondering what "Etonians" were, but too +proud to ask. And Jenkins _major_ received nothing; and being too weak +to punch Thompson's head (as he desired) waylaid him opposite the +cemetery gate on his way home, and said-- + +"_Parvenu!_" + +--which was doubly insulting; for, in the first place, French was +Thompson's weakest subject, and secondly, his father was a haberdasher +in a small way, who spoke with awe of the Jenkinses as a family that +had practised law in the town for six generations. Thompson himself +was aware of the glamour such a lineage conferred. It was wholly due +to his ignorance of French that he retorted-- + +"You're another!" + +Young Jenkins explained the term, with a wave of his hand towards the +cemetery gate. + +"You'll find my family in there, and inside a rail of their own. And +you needn't think I wanted that prize. _I_'ve got a grandfather." + +So, no doubt, had Thompson; but, to find him, he must have consulted +the parish books and searched among the graves at the northern end of +the burial-ground for one decorated with a tin label and the number +2054. He gazed in at the sacred acre of the Jenkinses and the +monuments emblazoned with "J.P.," "Recorder of this Borough," "Clerk +of the Peace for the County," and other proud appendices in gilt +lettering: and, in the heat of his heart, turned upon Jenkins _major_. + +"You just wait till we die, and see which of us two has the finer +tombstone!" + +Thereupon he stalked home and read the _Memoirs of Eminent Etonians_, +and learnt from their perusal that it was indeed possible to earn +a finer tombstone than any Jenkins possessed. At the end of the +Christmas term, too, he acquired a copy of Dr. Smiles's famous work on +_Self-Help_, and this really set his feet in the path to his desire. + +He determined, after weighing the matter carefully, to be a poet: for +it seemed to him that of all the noble professions this was the only +one the initial expense of which could be covered by his patrimony. +The paper, ink, and pens came cheaply enough (though the waste was +excessive); and for his outfit of high thoughts and emotions he pawned +not merely the possessions that you, my dear young lady, are +so willing to cast on the table--charms of face and graces of +person--for, as a man, he valued these lightly; but the strength in +his arms, the taste of meat and wine, the cunning of horsemanship, of +boat-sailing, of mountain-climbing, the breathless joy of the diver, +the languid joy of the dancer, the feel of the canoe-paddle shaken +in the rapid, the delicious lassitude of sleep in wayside-inns, and +lastly the ecstasy of love and fatherhood--all these he relinquished +for a tombstone that should be handsomer than Jenkins's. Jenkins, +meanwhile, was articled to his father, and, having passed the +necessary examinations with credit, became a solicitor and married +into a county family. + +Thompson, I need hardly tell you, was by this time settled in London +and naturally spent a good deal of his leisure time in Westminster +Abbey. The monuments there profoundly affected his imagination, and +gave him quite new ambitions with regard to the tombstone that towered +at the back of all his day-dreams. When first he trod the Embankment, +in thin boots with a few pence in his pocket, it had appeared to him +in slate with a terrific inscription in gilt letters--inscriptions in +which "Benefactor of His Species," "Take him for All in All We shall +not Look upon his Like Again" took the place of the pettifogging +"Clerk of the Peace" or "J.P." tagged on to the names of the +Jenkinses. By degrees, however, he abated a little of the inscription +and made up for it by trebling the costliness of the stone. + +From slate it grew to granite--to marble--to alabaster, with painted +cherubs and a coat of arms. At one time he brooded, for a whole week, +over a flamboyant design with bosses of lapis lazuli at the four +corners; and only gave it up for a life-size recumbent figure in +alabaster with four gryphons supporting the sarcophagus. As the soles +of his boots thickened with prosperity, so did his stone grow in +solidity. Finally an epic of his--_Adrastus_--took the town by +storm, and three editions were exhausted in a single week. When this +happened, he sat down with a gigantic sheet of cartridge paper before +him and spent a whole year in setting out the elaborated design. By +his will he left all his money to pay for the structure: for his +father and mother were dead and he had neither wife nor child. + +When all was finished he rubbed his hands, packed up his bag and took +a third-class ticket down to his native town, to have a contemptuous +look at the Jenkins monuments and see how Jenkins _major_ was getting +on. + +Jenkins _major_ was up in the cemetery, among his fathers. And on top +of Jenkins rested a granite cross--sufficiently handsome, to be sure, +for a solicitor, but nothing out of the way. "J.P." was carved upon +it; though, as Jenkins had an absurdly long Christian name (Marmaduke +Augustus St. John), these letters were squeezed a bit in the right arm +of the cross. Underneath was engraved-- + + "_ERECTED BY HIS DISCONSOLATE + WIFE AND CHILDREN. + + A Father kind, a Husband dear, + A faithful Friend, lies buried here_." + +Thompson perused the doggerel once, twice, and a third time; and +chuckled contemptuously. "So Jenkins has come to this. God bless me, +how life in a provincial town does narrow a man!" + + "_A Father kind, a Husband dear_..." + +--and he went away chuckling, but with no malice at all in his breast. + +Jenkins slept forgiven beneath his twopenny-halfpenny tombstone, and +Thompson, reflecting that not only was his own monument designed (with +a canopy of Carrara marble), but the cost of it invested in the three +per cents., walked contentedly back to the station, repeating on his +way with gentle scorn-- + + "_A Father kind, a Husband dear, + A faithful Friend, lies buried here_." + +The jingle lulled him asleep in his railway carriage, and he awoke in +London. Driving home, he paid the cabby, rushed up to his room three +stairs at a bound, unlocked his safe and pulled out the great design. +In one corner he had even drawn up a list of the eminent men who +should be his pall-bearers. Certainly such a tomb would make Jenkins +turn in his grave. + +He spread the plan on the table, with a paper-weight on each corner, +and sat down before it. After considering it for an hour, he arose +dissatisfied. + +"Jenkins had a heap of flowers over him--common flowers, to be sure, +but fresh enough. I dare say I could arrange for a supply, though. +It's that confounded doggerel-- + + '_A Father kind, a Husband dear_.' + +"That's Mrs. Jenkins's taste, I suppose. Still--of course I could +better the verse; but one can't stick up a lie over one's remains. I +wish to God I had a disconsolate wife, or a child, if only to spite +Jenkins." + +And I believe, my dear young lady, that underneath his tomb (whereon +there now stands a marble figure of Fame and blows a gilt trumpet) he +is still wishing it. + + + + +EGG-STEALING. + + +It wanted less than an hour to high water when Miss Marty Lear heard +her brother's boat take ground on the narrow beach below the garden, +and set the knives and glasses straight while she listened for the +click of the garden-latch. + +A line of stunted hazels ran along the foot of the garden and hid the +landing-place from Miss Lear as she stood at the kitchen window gazing +down steep alleys of scarlet runners. But above the hazels she could +look across to the fruit-growing village of St. Kits, and catch a +glimpse at high tide of the intervening river, or towards low water of +the mud-banks shining in the sun. + +It was Miss Lear's custom to look much on this landscape from this +window: had, in fact, been her habit for close upon forty years. And +this evening, when the latch clicked at length, and her brother in +his market-suit come slouching up the path between the parallels of +garden-stuff, her eyes rested all the while upon the line of grey +water above and beyond his respectable hat. + +Nor, when he entered the kitchen, hitched this hat upon a peg in the +wall--where its brim accurately fitted a sort of dull halo in the +whitewash--did he appear to want any welcome from her. He was a +long-jawed man of sixty-five, she a long-jawed woman of sixty-one; and +they understood each other's ways, having kept this small and desolate +farm together for thirty years--that is, since their father's death. + +A cold turnip-pasty stood on the table, with the cider-jug that Job +Lear regularly emptied at supper. These suggested no small-talk, and +the pair sat down to eat in silence. + +It was only while holding out his plate for a second helping of the +pasty that Job spoke with a full mouth. + +"Who d'ee reckon I ran across to-day, down in Troy?" + +Miss Marty cut the slice without troubling to say that she had not a +notion. + +"Why, that fellow Amos Trudgeon," he went on. + +"Yes?" + +"'Pears to me you must be failin' if you disremembers 'en: son of old +Sal Trudgeon, that used to keep the jumble-shop 'cross the water: him +that stole our eggs back-along, when father was livin'." + +"I remember." + +"I thought you must. Why, you gave evidence, to be sure. Be dashed! +now I come to mind, if you wasn' the first to wake the house an' say +you heard a man hollerin' out down 'pon the mud." + +"Iss, I was." + +"An' saved his life, though you did get 'en two months in Bodmin Gaol +by it. Up to the arm-pits he was, an' not five minutes to live, when +we hauled 'en out, an' wonderin' what he could be doin' there, found +he'd been stealin' our eggs. He inquired after you to-day." + +"Did he?" + +"Iss. 'How's Miss Marty?' says he. 'Agein' rapidly,' says I. The nerve +that some folks have! Comes up to me as cool as my lord and holds +out a hand. He've a-grown into a sort of commercial; stomach like a +bow-window, with a watch-guard looped across. I'd a mind to say 'Eggs' +to 'en, it so annoyed me." + +"I hope you didn't." + +"No. 'Twould have seemed like bearin' malice. 'Tis an old tale, after +all, that feat of his." + +"Nine an' thirty year, come seventeenth o' September next. Did he say +any more?" + +"Said the weather-glass was risin', but too fast to put faith in." + +"I mean, did he ask any more about me?" + +"Iss: wanted to know if you was married. I reckon he meant that for a +bit o' pleasantness." + +"Not that! Ah, not that!" + +Job laid down knife and fork with their points resting on the rim +of his plate, and, with a lump of pasty in one cheek, looked at his +sister. She had pushed back her chair a bit, and her fingers were +plucking the edge of the table-cloth. + +"Not that!" she repeated once more, and hardly above a whisper. She +did not lift her eyes. Before Job could speak-- + +"He was my lover," she said, and shivered. + +"Mar--ty--" + +She looked up now, hardened her ugly, twitching face, forced her eyes +to meet her brother's, and went on breathlessly-- + +"I swear to you, Job--here, across this table--he was my lover; and +I ruined 'en. He was the only man, 'cept you and father, that ever +kissed me; and I betrayed 'en. As the Lord liveth, I stood up in the +box and swore away his name to save mine. An' what's more, he made +me." + +"Mar--ty Lear!" + +"Don't hinder me, Job. It's God's truth I'm tellin' 'ee. His folks +were a low lot, an' father'd have broken every bone o' me. But we used +to meet in the orchard 'most every night. Don't look so, brother. I'm +past sixty, an' nothin' known; an' now evil an' good's the same to +me." + +"Go on." + +"Well, the last night he came over 'twas spring tides, an' past the +flood. I was waitin' for 'en in the orchard, down in the corner by the +Adam's Pearmain. We could see the white front o' the house from there, +and us in the dark shadow: and there was the gap handy, that Amos +could snip through at a pinch--you fenced it up yoursel' the very +summer that father died in the fall. That night, Amos was late an' the +dew heavy, an' no doubt I lost my temper waitin' out there in the long +grass. We had words, I know; an' I reckon the tide ran far out while +we quarrelled. Anyway, he left me in wrath, an' I stood there under +the appletree, longin' for 'en to come back an' make friends again. +But the time went on, an' I didn' hear his footstep--no, nor his oars +pullin' away--though hearkenin' with all my ears. + +"An' then I heard a terrible sound." Miss Marty paused and drew the +back of her hand across her dry lips before proceeding. + +"--a terrible sound--a sort of low breathin', but fierce; an' +something worse, a suck-suckin' of the mud below; an' I ran down. I +suppose, in his anger, he took no care how he walked round the point +(for he al'ays moored his boat round the point, out o' sight), an' +went wide an' was taken. There he was, above his knees in it, and +far out it seemed to me, in the light o' the young moon. For all his +fightin', he heard me, and whispers out o' the dark-- + +"'Little girl, it's got me. Hush! don't shout, or they'll catch you.' + +"'Can't you get out?' I whispered back. + +"'No,' says he, 'I'm afraid I can't, unless you run up to the linhay +an' fetch a rope.' + +"It was no more I stayed to hear, but ran up hot-foot to the linhay +and back inside the minute, with the waggon rope. + +"'Hold the end,' he panted, 'and throw with all your strength.' And I +threw, but the rope fell short. Twice again I threw, but missed each +cast by a yard and more. He wouldn't let me come near the mud. + +"Then I fell to runnin' to an' fro on the edge o' the firm ground, an' +sobbin' between my teeth because I could devise nothin'. And all the +while he was fightin' hard. + +"'I'll run an' call father an' Job,' says I. + +"'Hush'ee now! Be you crazed? Do you want to let 'em know all?' + +"'But it'll kill you, dear, won't it?' + +"'Likely it will,' said he. Then, after a while of battlin', he +whispers again, 'Little girl, I don't want to die. Death is a cold +end. But I reckon you shall save me an' your name as well. Take the +rope, coil it as you run, and hang it back in the linhay, quick! Then +run you to the hen-house an' bring me all the eggs you can find. Be +quick and ax no questions, for it's little longer I can hold up. It's +above my waist,' he says. + +"I didn' know what he meant, but ran for my life to the linhay, and +hung up the rope, an' then to the hen-house. I could tell prety well +where to find a dozen eggs or more in the dark, an' in three minutes +I'd groped about an' gathered 'em in the lap o' my dress. Then back I +ran. I could just spy 'en--a dark spot out there in the mud. + +"'How many?' he axed, an' his voice was like a rook's. + +"'A dozen, or near.' + +"'Toss 'em here. Don't come too nigh, an' shy careful, so's I can +catch.' + +"I stepped down pretty nigh to the brim o' the mud an' tossed 'em out +to him. Three fell short in my hurry, but the rest he got hold of +somehow. + +"'That's right,' he calls, hoarse and low, 'they'll think +egg-stealin' nateral to a low family like our'n. Now back to your +room--undress--an' cry out, sayin', there's a man shoutin' for help +down 'pon the mud; and, dear, be quick! When you wave your candle +twice at the window, I'll shout like a Trojan.' + +"An' I did it, Job; for the cruelty in a fearful woman passes +knowledge. An' you rescued 'en an' he went to gaol. For he said 'twas +the only way. An' his mother took it as quite reasonable that her +husband's son should take to the bad--'twas the way of all them +Trudgeons. Father to son, they was of no account. Egg-stealin' was +just the little hole-an'-corner wickedness that 'd come nateral to +'em." + +"I rec'lect now," said Job Lear very slowly, "that the wain-rope was +wet i' my hands when I unhitched 'en that night from the hook, an' I +wondered, it bein' the end of a week's dryth. But in the dark an' the +confusion o' savin' the wastrel's life it slipped my thoughts, else--" + +"Else you'd ha' wetted it wi' the blood o' my back, Job. But the +rope's been frayed to powder this many year. An' you needn't look at +me like that. I'm past sixty, an' I've done my share of repentin'. He +didn't say if he was married, did he?" + + + + +SEVEN-AN'-SIX. + + +The old fish-market at Troy was just a sagged lean-to roof on the +northern side of the Town Quay, resting against the dead wall of the +harbour-master's house, and propped in front by four squat granite +columns. This roof often let in rain enough to fill the pits worn in +the paving-stones by the feet of gossiping generations; and the whole +was wisely demolished a few years back to make place for a Working +Men's Institute--a red building, where they take in all the chief +London newspapers. Nevertheless I have, in some moods, caught myself +hankering after the old shelter, where the talk was unchartered +always, and where no notices were suspended against smoking; and I +know it used to be worth visiting on dirty evenings about the time of +the Equinox, when the town-folk assembled to watch the high tide and +the chances of its flooding the streets about the quay. + +Early one September afternoon, about two years before its destruction, +a small group of watermen, a woman or two, and a fringe of small +children were gathered in the fish-market around a painter and his +easel. The painter--locally known as Seven-an'-Six--was a white-haired +little man, with a clean-shaven face, a complexion of cream and +roses, a high unwrinkled brow, and blue eyes that beamed an engaging +trustfulness on his fellow-creatures, of whom he stood ready to paint +any number at seven shillings and sixpence a head. As this method +of earning a livelihood did not allow him to sojourn long in one +place--which, indeed, was far from his desire--he spent a great part +of his time upon the cheaper seats of obscure country vehicles. He +delighted in this life of perennial transience, and enjoyed painting +the portraits which justified it; and was, on the whole, one of the +happiest of men. + +Just now he was enjoying himself amazingly, being keenly alive not +merely to the crowd's admiration, but to the rare charm of that which +he was trying to paint. Some six paces before him there leant against +one of the granite pillars a woman of exceeding beauty: her figure +tall, supple, full of strength, in every line, her face brown and +broad-browed, with a heavy chin that gave character to the rest of her +features, and large eyes, black as sloes, that regarded the artist and +the group at his elbow with a sombre disdain. The afternoon sunshine +slanted down the pillar, was broken by the mass of dark hair she +rested against it, and ran down again along her firm and rounded arm +to the sun-bonnet she dangled by its strings. Behind her, the quay's +edge shone bright against the green water of the harbour, where, half +a cable's length from shore, a small three-masted schooner lay at +anchor, with her Blue Peter fluttering at the fore. + +"He's gettin' her to-rights," observed one of the crowd. + +A woman said, "I wish I'd a-been took in my young days, when I was +comely." + +"Then, whyever wasn't 'ee, Mrs. Slade?" + +"Well-a-well, my dear, I'm sure I dunno. Three ha'af-crowns is a +lot o' money to see piled in your palm, an' say 'Fare thee well; +increase!' Store 's no sore, as my old mother used to say." + +"But," argued a man, "when once you've made up your mind to the +gallant speckilation, you never regret it--danged if you do!" + +"Then why hasn't 'ee been took, Thomas, in all these years?" + +"Because that little emmet o' doubt gets the better o' me every time. +'Tis like holdin' back from the Fifteen Balls: you feel sure in your +own mind you'll be better wi'out the drink, but for your life you +durstn't risk the disapp'intment. Over this matter I'll grant ye +that I preaches what I can't practise. But my preachin' is sound. +Therefore, I bid ye all follow the example o' Cap'n Hosken here, +who, bein' possessed wi' true love for 'Liza Saunders, is havin' her +portrait took for to hang up in his narrow cabin out to sea, an' +remind hissel' o' the charms that bide at home a-languishin'." + +"That's not my reason, though," said Captain Hosken, a sunburnt and +serious man, at the painter's elbow. + +"Then what may it be, makin' so bold?" + +"I'll tell ye when the painting's done." + +"A couple of strokes, and it's finished," said the artist, cocking his +head on one side and screwing up his blue eyes. "There, I'll tell you +plainly, friend, that my skill is but a seven-and-sixpenny matter, or +a trifle beyond. It does well enough what it pretends to do; but this +is a subject I never ought to have touched. I know my limits. You'll +see, sir," he went on, in a more business-like tone, "I've indicated +your ship here in the middle distance. I thought it would give the +portrait just that touch of sentiment you would desire." + +The faces gathered closer to stare. 'Liza left the pillar, stretched +herself to her full height, and came forward, tying the strings of her +sun-bonnet. + +"'Tis the very daps of her!" was Captain Hosken's comment as he pulled +out his three half-crowns. "As for the _Rare Plant_, what you've put +in might be took for a vessel; and if a man took it for a vessel, he +might go on to take it for a schooner; but I'd be tolerable sorry if +he took it for a schooner o' which I was master. Hows'ever, you've put +in all 'Liza's good looks an' enticingness. 'Tis a picture I'm glad to +own, an' be dashed to the sentiment you talked about!" + +He took the portrait carefully from the easel, and held it before him, +between his open palms. + +"Neighbours all," he began, his rather stupid face overspread with an +expression of satisfied cunning, "I promised to tell 'ee my reasons +for havin' 'Liza's portrait took. They're rather out o' the common, +an' 'Liza hersel' don't guess what they be, no more than the biggest +fool here present amongst us." + +He looked from the man Thomas, from whose countenance this last +innuendo glanced off as from a stone wall, to 'Liza, who answered +him with a puzzled scowl. Her foot began to tap the paving-stone +impatiently. + +"When I gazes 'pon 'Liza," he pursued, "my eyes be fairly dazzled wi' +the looks o' her. I allow that. She's got that build, an' them lines +about the neck an' waist, an' them red-ripe lips, that I feels no +care to look 'pon any other woman. That's why I took up wi' her, an' +offered her my true heart. But strike me if I'd counted 'pon her +temper; an' she's got the temper of Old Nick! Why, only last +evenin'--the very evenin' before I sailed, mark ye--she slapped my +ear. She did, though! Says I, down under my breath, 'Right you are my +lady! we'll be quits for that.' But, you see, I couldn' bear to break +it off wi' her, because I didn' want to miss her beautiful looks." + +The women began to titter, and 'Liza's face to flame, but her lover +proceeded with great complacency: + +"Well, I was beset in my mind till an hour agone, when--as I walked +down here with 'Liza, half mad to take leave of her, and sail for Rio +Grande, and likewise sick of her temper--I sees this gentleman a-doin' +pictures at seven-an'-six; and thinks I, 'If I can get 'en to make a +copy of 'Liza's good looks, then I shall take off to sea as much as I +want of her, an' the rest, temper included, can bide at home till I +calls for it. That's all I've got to say. 'Liza's a beauty beyond +compare, an' her beauty I worships, an' means to worship. But if any +young man wants to take her, I tell him he's welcome. So long t' ye +all!" + +Still holding the canvas carefully a foot from his waistcoat, to avoid +smearing it, he sauntered off to the quay-steps, and hailed his boat +to carry him aboard the _Rare Plant_. As he passed the girl he had +thus publicly jilted, her fingers contracted for a second like a +hawk's talons; but she stood still, and watched him from under +her brows as he descended the steps. Then with a look that, as it +travelled in a semi-circle, obliterated the sympathy which most of the +men put into their faces, and the sneaking delight which all the women +wore on theirs, she strode out of the fish-market and up the street. + +Seven-an'-Six squeezed the paint out of his brushes, packed up his +easel and japanned box, wished the company good-day, and strolled back +to his inn. He was sincerely distressed, and regretted a hundred times +in the course of that evening that he had parted with the portrait +and received its price before Captain Hosken had made that speech. He +would (he told himself) have run his knife through the canvas, and +gladly forfeited the money. As it was, he lingered long over the +supper it procured, and ate heartily. + +A mile beyond the town, next morning, Boutigo's van, in which he was +the only passenger, pulled up in front of a roadside cottage. A bundle +and a tin box were hoisted up by Boutigo, and a girl climbed in. It +was 'Liza. + +"Oh, good morning!" stammered the little painter. + +"I'm going to stay with my aunt in Truro, and seek service," the girl +announced, keeping her eye upon him, and her colour down with an +effort. "Where are you bound?" + +"I? Oh, I travel about, now in one place, next day in another--always +moving. It's the breath of life to me, moving around." + +"That must be nice! I often wonder why men tie themselves up to a wife +when they might be free to move about like you, and see the world. +What does a man want to tack a wife on to him when he can always carry +her image about?" She laughed, without much bitterness. + +"But--" began the amiable painter, and checked himself. He had been +about to confess that he himself owned a wife and four healthy +children. He saw this family about once in two months, and it existed +by letting out lodgings in a small unpaintable town. He was sincerely +fond of his wife, who made every allowance for his mercurial nature; +but it suddenly struck him that her portrait hung in the parlour at +home, and had never accompanied him on his travels. + +He was silent for a minute or two, and then began to converse on +ordinary topics. + + + + +THE REGENT'S WAGER. + + +Boutigo's van--officially styled _The Vivid_--had just issued from +the Packhorse Yard, Tregarrick, a leisurely three-quarters of an hour +behind its advertised time, and was scaling the acclivity of St. +Fimbar's Street in a series of short tacks. Now and then it halted +to take up a passenger or a parcel; and on these occasions Boutigo +produced a couple of big stones from his hip-pockets and slipped them +under the hind-wheels, while we, his patrons within the van, tilted +at an angle of 15° upon cushions of American cloth, sought for new +centres of gravity, and earnestly desired the summit. + +It was on the summit, where the considerate Boutigo gave us a minute's +pause to rearrange ourselves and our belongings, that we slipped into +easy and general talk. An old countryman, with an empty poultry-basket +on his knees, and a battered top-hat on the back of his head, gave us +the cue. + +"When Boutigo's father had the accident--that was back in 'fifty-six,' +and it broke his leg an' two ribs--the van started from close 'pon the +knap o' the hill here, and scat itself to bits against the bridge at +the foot just two and a half minutes after." + +I suggested that this was not very fast for a runaway horse. + +"I dessay not," he answered; "but 'twas pretty spry for a van slippin' +_backwards_, and the old mare diggin' her toes in all the way to hold +it up." + +One or two of the passengers grinned at my expense, and the old man +pursued-- + +"But if you want to know how fast a hoss _can_ get down St. Fimbar's +hill, I reckon you've lost your chance by not axin' Dan'l Best, that +died up to the 'Sylum twelve years since; though, poor soul, he'd but +one answer for every question from his seven-an'-twentieth year to his +end, an' that was 'One, two, three, four, five, sis, seven." + +"Ah, the poor body! his was a wisht case," a woman observed from the +corner furthest from the door. + +"Ay, Selina, and fast forgotten, like all the doin's and sufferin's of +the men of old time." He reached a hand round his basket, and touching +me on the knee, pointed back on Tregarrick. "There's a wall," he said, +and I saw by the direction of his finger that he meant the wall of the +county prison, "and beneath that wall's a road, and across that road's +a dismal pool, and beyond that pool's a green hillside, with a road +athurt it that comes down and crosses by the pool's head. Standin' +'pon that hillside you can see a door in the wall, twenty feet above +the ground, an' openin' on nothing. Leastways, you could see it once; +an' even now, if ye've good eyesight, ye can see where they've bricked +it up." + +I could, in fact, even at our distance, detect the patch of recent +stone-work; and knew something of its history. + +"Now," the old man continued, "turn your looks to the right and mark +the face of Tregarrick town-clock. You see it, hey?"--and I had time +to read the hour on its dial before Boutigo jolted us over the ridge +and out of sight of it--"Well, carry them two things in your mind: for +they mazed Dan'l Best an' murdered his brother Hughie." + +And, much as I shall repeat it, he told me this tale, pausing now and +again to be corroborated by the woman in the corner. The history, my +dear reader, is accurate enough--for Boutigo's van. + +There lived a young man in Tregarrick in the time of the French War. +His name was Dan'l Best, and he had an only brother Hughie, just three +years younger than himself. Their father and mother had died of the +small-pox and left them, when quite young children, upon the parish: +but old Walters of the Packhorse--he was great-grandfather of the +Walters that keeps it now--took a liking to them and employed them, +first about his stables and in course of time as post-boys. Very good +post-boys they were, too, till Hughie took to drinking and wenching +and cards and other devil's tricks. Dan'l was always a steady sort: +walked with a nice young woman that was under-housemaid up to the old +Lord Bellarmine's at Castle Cannick, and was saving up to be married, +when Hughie robbed the mail. + +Hughie robbed the mail out of doubt. He did it up by Tippet's Barrow, +just beyond the cross-roads where the scarlet gig used to meet the +coach and take the mails for Castle Cannick and beyond to Tolquite. +Billy Phillips, that drove the gig, was found in the ditch with his +mouth gagged, and swore to Hughie's being the man. The Lord Chief +Justice, too, summed up dead against him, and the jury didn't even +leave the box. And the moral was, "Hughie Best, you're to be taken to +the place whence you come from, ancetera, and may the Lord have mercy +upon your soul!" + +You may fancy what a blow this was to Dan'l; for though fine and vexed +with Hughie's evil courses, he'd never guessed the worst, nor anything +like it. Not a doubt had he, nor could have, that Hughie was guilty; +but he went straight from the court to his young woman and said, "I've +saved money for us to be married on. There's little chance that I can +win Hughie a reprieve; and, whether or no, it will eat up all, or +nearly all, my savings. Only he's my one brother. Shall I go?" And she +said, "Go, my dear, if I wait ten years for you." So he borrowed a +horse for a stage or two, and then hired, and so got to London, on a +fool's chase, as it seemed. + +The fellow's purpose, of course, was to see King George. But King +George, as it happened, was daft just then; and George his son reigned +in his stead, being called the Prince Regent. Weary days did Dan'l air +his heels with one Minister of the Crown after another before he could +get to see this same Regent, and 'tis to be supposed that the great +city, being new to him, weighed heavy on his spirits. And all the +time he had but one plea, that his brother was no more than a boy and +hadn't an ounce of vice in his nature--which was well enough beknown +to all in Tregarrick, but didn't go down with His Majesty's advisers: +while as for the Prince Regent, Dan'l couldn't get to see him till the +Wednesday evening that Hughie was to be hanged on the Friday, and then +his Royal Highness spoke him neither soft nor hopeful. + +"The case was clear as God's daylight," said he: "the Lord Chief +Justice tells me that the jury didn't even quit the box." + +"Your Royal Highness must excuse me," said Dan'l, "but I never shall +be able to respect that judge. My opinion of a judge is, he should +be like a stickler and see fair play; but this here chap took sides +against Hughie from the first. If I was you," he said, "I wouldn't +trust him with a Petty Sessions." + +"Well, you may think how likely this kind of speech was to please the +Prince Regent. And I've heard that Dan'l; was in the very article of +being pitched out, neck and crop, when he heard a regular caprouse +start up in the antechamber behind him, and a lord-in-waiting, or +whatever he's called, comes in and speaks a word very low to the +Prince. + +"Show him in at once," says he, dropping poor Dan'l's petition upon +the table beside him; and in there walks a young officer with his +boots soiled with riding and the sea-salt in his hair, like as if he'd +just come off a ship; and hands the Prince a big letter. The Prince +hardly cast his eye over what was written before he outs with a lusty +hurrah, as well he might, for this was the first news of the taking of +St. Sebastian. + +"Here's news," said he, "to fill the country with bonfires this +night." + +"Begging your Royal Highness's pardon," answers the officer, +pulling out his watch; "but the mail coaches have left St. Martin's +Lane"--that's where they started from, as I've heard tell--"these +twenty minutes." + +"Damn it!" says Dan'l Best and the Prince Regent, both in one breath. + +"Hulloa! Be you here still?" says the Prince, turning sharp round at +the sound of Dan'l's voice. "And what be you waiting for?" + +"For my brother Hughie's reprieve," says Dan'l. + +"Well, but 'tis too late now, anyway," says the Prince. + +"I'll bet 'tis not," says Dan'l, "if you'll look slippy and make out +the paper." + +"You can't do it. 'Tis over two hundred and fifty miles, and you can't +travel ten miles an hour all the way like the coach." + +"It'll reach Tregarrick to-morrow night," says Dan'l, "an' they won't +hang Hughie till seven in the morning. So I've an hour or two to +spare, and being a post-boy myself, I know the ropes." + +"Well," says his Royal Highness, "I'm in a very good temper because +of this here glorious storming of St. Sebastian. So I'll wager your +brother's life you don't get there in time to stop the execution." + +"Done with you, O King!" says Dan'l, and the reprieve was made out, +quick as lightning. + +Well, sir, Dan'l knew the ropes, as he said; and moreover, I reckon +there was a kind of freemasonry among post-boys; and the two together, +taken with his knowledge o' horseflesh, helped him down the road as +never a man was helped before or since. 'Twas striking nine at night +when he started out of London with the reprieve in his pocket, and by +half-past five in the morning he spied Salisbury spire lifting out of +the morning light. There was some hitch here--the first he met--in +getting a relay; but by six he was off again, and passed through +Exeter early in the afternoon. Down came a heavy rain as the evening +drew in, and before he reached Okehampton the roads were like a bog. +Here it was that the anguish began, and of course to Dan'l, who found +himself for the first time in his life sitting in the chaise instead +of in the saddle, 'twas the deuce's own torment to hold himself still, +feel the time slipping away, and not be riding and getting every ounce +out of the beasts: though, even to _his_ eye, the rider in front +was no fool. But at Launceston soon after daybreak he met with a +misfortune indeed. A lot of folks had driven down overnight to +Tregarrick to witness the day's sad doings, and there wasn't a chaise +to be had in the town for love or money. + +"What do I want with a chaise?" said Dan'l, for of course he was in +his own country now, and everybody knew him. "For the love of God, +give me a horse that'll take me into Tregarrick before seven and save +Hughie's life! Man, I've got a reprieve!" + +"Dear lad, is that so?" said the landlord, who had come down, and was +standing by the hotel door in nightcap and bedgown. "I thought, maybe, +you was hurrying to see the last of your brother. Well, there's but +one horse left in stable, and that's the grey your master sold me two +months back; and he's a screw, as you must know. But here's the stable +key. Run and take him out yourself, and God go with 'ee!" + +None knew better than Dan'l that the grey was a screw. But he ran down +to the stable, fetched the beast out, and didn't even wait to shift +his halter for a bridle, but caught up the half of a broken mop-handle +that lay by the stable door, and with no better riding whip galloped +off bare-back towards Tregarrick. + +Aye, sir, and he almost won his race in spite of all. The hands o' the +town clock were close upon seven as he came galloping over the knap +of the hill and saw the booths below him and sweet-stalls and +standings--for on such days 'twas as good as a fair in Tregarrick--and +the crowd under the prison wall. And there, above them, he could see +the little open doorway in the wall, and one or two black figures +there, and the beam. Just as he saw this the clock struck its first +note, and Dan'l, still riding like a madman, let out a scream, and +waved the paper over his head; but the distance was too great. Seven +times the clapper struck, and with each stroke Dan'l screamed, still +riding and keeping his eyes upon that little doorway. But a second or +two after the last stroke he dropped his arm suddenly as if a bullet +had gone through it, and screamed no more. Less than a minute after, +sir, he pulled up by the bridge on the skirt of the crowd, and looked +round him with a silly smile. + +"Neighbours," says he, "I've a-got great news for ye. We've a-taken +St. Sebastian, and by all acounts the Frenchies'll be drove out of +Spain in less'n a week." + +There was silence in Boutigo's van for a full minute; and then the old +woman spoke from the corner: + +"Well, go on, Sam, and tell the finish to the company." + +"Is there more to tell?" I asked. + +"Yes, sir," said Sam, leaning forward again, and tapping my knee very +gently, "there were _two men_ condemned at Tregarrick, that Assize; +and two men put to death that morning. The first to go was a +sheep-stealer. Ten minutes after, Dan'l saw Hughie his brother led +forth; and stood there and watched, with the reprieve in his hand. +His wits were gone, and he chit-chattered all the time about St. +Sebastian." + + + + +LOVE OF NAOMI. + + +I. + +The house known as Vellan's Rents stands in the Chy-pons over the +waterside, a stone's throw beyond the ferry and the archway where +the toll-keeper used to live. You may know it by its exceeding +dilapidation and by the clouds of steam that issue on the street from +one of its windows. The sill of this window stands a bare foot above +the causeway, and glancing down into the room as you pass, you will +see the shoulders of a woman stooping over a wash-tub. When first I +used to pass this window the woman was called Naomi Bricknell; later +it was Sarah Ann Polgrain; and now it is (euphemistically) Pretty +Alice. One goes and makes way for another, but the wash-tub is always +there and the rheumatic fever; and while these remain they will never +lack, as they have never lacked yet, for a woman to do battle for dear +life between them. + +But my story concerns the first of these only, Naomi Bricknell. She +and her mother occupied two rooms in Vellan's Rents as far back as I +can remember, and were twisted with the fever about once in every six +months. For this they paid one shilling a week rent. If you lift the +latch and push the front door open, you seem at first to be looking +down a well; for a flight of thirty-two steps plunges straight from +the threshold to the quay door and a square of green water there. And +when the sun is on the water at the bottom of this funnel, the effect +is pretty. But taking note of the cold wind that rushes up this +stairway and into the steaming room where the wash-tub stands, you +will understand how it comes that each new tenant takes over the +rheumatic fever as one of the fixtures. + +In a room to the right of the stairway, and facing Naomi's, lived a +middle-aged man who was always known as Long Oliver. This man was a +native of the port, and it was understood that he and Naomi had been +well acquainted, years ago, before he started on his first voyage and +some time before Naomi married. Tiring of the sea in time, he had +found work on the jetties and rented this room for sixpence a week. In +these days he and Naomi rarely spoke to each other beyond exchanging +a "Good-morning" when they met on the stairway, nor did he show any +friendliness beyond tapping at her mother's door and inquiring about +her once a day whenever she happened to be down with the fever. I have +made researches and find that the rest of the house was tenanted at +that time by a working block-maker, with his wife and four children; +a widow and her son just returned from sea with an injured spine; a +young couple without children. But these do not come into the tale. + +Now the history of Naomi was this. She was married at three-and-twenty +to Abe Bricknell, a young sailor of the port, and as steady as a woman +could wish. In the third year of their married life, and a week +after obtaining his certificate, he sailed out of Troy as mate of a +fruit-ship, a barque, that never came back, nor was sighted again +after passing the Lizard lights. + +Naomi--a tall up-standing woman with deep, gentle eyes, like a cow's, +and a firm mouth that seldom spoke--took her affliction oddly. She +neither wailed nor put on mourning. She looked upon it as a matter +between herself and her Maker, and said: + +"God has done this thing to me; therefore I have finished with Him. I +am no man to go and revenge myself by breaking all the Commandments. +But I am a woman and can suffer. Let Him do His worst: I defy Him." + +So she never set foot inside church again, nor offered any worship. +The week long she worked as a laundress, and sat through the Sundays +with her arms folded, gloomily fighting her duel. When the fever +wrenched her arms and lips as she stood by the wash-tub, she set her +teeth and said, "I can stand it. I can match all this with contempt. +He can kill, but that's not beating me." + +Her mother, a large and pale-faced woman of sixty, with an apparently +thoughtful contraction of the lips, in reality due to a habit of +carrying pins in her mouth, watched Naomi anxiously during this period +of her life. And Long Oliver watched her too, though secretly, with +eyes screwed up after the fashion of men who have followed the sea. + +One day he stopped her on the stairs and asked, abruptly: + +"When be you thinkin' to marry again?" + +"Never," she answered, straight and at once, halting with a hand on +her hip and eyeing him. + +"Dear me; but you will, I hope." + +"Not to you, anyway." + +"Laws me, no! I don't want 'ee; haven't wanted 'ee these ten years. +But I'd a reason for askin'." + +"Then I'm sure I don't know what it can be." + +"True--true. Look'ee here, my dear; 'tis ordained for you to marry +agen." + +"Aw? Who by?" + +"Providence." + +Naomi had treated Long Oliver badly in days gone by, but could still +talk to him with more freedom than to other men. Still standing with +a hand on her hip, she let fall a horrible sentence about the +Almighty--all the more horrible in that it came deliberately, without +emphasis, and from quiet lips. + +"Woman!" cried a voice above them. + +They turned, looked up, and saw the bent figure of a man framed in the +street doorway. This was William Geake, who walked in from Gantick +every Saturday to collect the sixpences and shillings of Vellan's +Rents for its landlord, a well-to-do wine and spirit merchant at +Tregarrick. As a man of indisputable probity and an unwearying walker, +Geake was entrusted with many odd jobs of this kind in the country +round, filling in with them such idle corners as his trade of +carpenter and undertaker to Gantick village might leave in the six +working days. On Sundays he put on a long black coat, and became a +Rounder, or Methodist local-preacher, walking sometimes twenty miles +there and back to terrify the inhabitants of outlying hamlets about +their future state. + +"Woman!" cried William Geake, "Down 'pon your knees an' pray God the +roof don't fall on 'ee for your vile words." + +"I reckon," retorted Naomi quietly, with a glance up at the +worm-riddled rafters, "you'd do more good by speakin' to the +landlord." + +William Geake had a high brow and bright, nervous eyes, betokening +enthusiasm; but he had also a long and square jaw that meant +stubbornness. This jaw now began to protrude and his lips to +straighten. + +"Down 'pon your knees!" he repeated. + +Naomi turned her eyes from him to Long Oliver, who leant against the +staircase wall with his arms crossed and a veiled amusement in his +face. With a slightly heightened colour, but no flutter of the voice, +she repeated her blasphemy; and then, pulling a shilling from her worn +purse, tendered it to Geake. This, of course, meant "Mind your own +business"; but he waved her hand aside. + +"Down 'pon your knees, woman!" he shouted thunderously. Then, as she +showed no disposition to obey, he added, grimly, "Eh? but somebody +shall intercede for thee afore thou'rt a minute older." + +And pulling off his hat there and then, he knelt down on the doorstep, +with the soles of his hob-nailed boots showing to the street. + +"Get up, an' don't make yoursel' a may-game," said Naomi hurriedly, as +one or two children stopped their play, and drew around to stare. + +"Father in heaven," began William Geake, in a voice that fetched the +women-folk, all up and down the Chy-pons, to their doors, "Thou, whose +property is ever to have mercy, forgive this blaspheming woman! Suffer +one who is Thy servant, though a grievous sinner, to intercede for her +afore she commits the sin that cannot be forgiven; to pluck her as a +brand from the burning--" + +By this, the women and a loafing man or two had clustered round, and +Colliver's coal-cart had rattled up and come to a standstill. The +Chy-pons is the narrowest street in Troy, and Colliver's driver could +hardly pass now, except over William Geake's legs. + +"Draw in your feet, brother Geake," he called out, "or else pray +short." + +One or two women giggled at this. But Geake did not seem to hear. +For five good minutes he prayed vociferously, as was his custom in +meeting-house; then rose, replaced his hat, dusted his knees, held out +his hand for Naomi's shilling, and wrote her the customary voucher in +his most business-like manner, and without another word. But there was +a triumphant look in his eyes that dared Naomi to repeat her offence, +and she very nearly wept as she felt that the words would not come. +This and the shame of publicity drove her back into her room as Geake +passed down the stairs to collect the other rents. A few women still +hung about the doorway as he emerged, some twenty minutes later. But +he marched down Chy-pons with head erect and eyes fixed straight +ahead. + + +II. + +On the following Saturday, when Geake called, Naomi was standing at +her wash-tub. She had seen him pass the window, and, hurriedly wiping +her hands, and pulling out her shilling, placed it ostentatiously in +the very centre of the deal table by the door; then had just time to +plunge her hands in the soap-suds again before he knocked. Try as she +would, she could not keep back a blush at the remembrance of last +week's scene, and half looked for him to make some allusion to it. + +His extremely business-like air reassured her. She nodded towards +the shilling without removing her hands from the tub. He took it, +including in a polite good-morning both Naomi and her mother, who was +huddled in an arm-chair before the fire and recovering from an attack +of the fever, wrote out his voucher solemnly, set it in the exact spot +where the shilling had stood, took up his hat, hesitated for less than +a second, replaced his hat on the table, and, pulling a chair towards +him, dropped on his knees, and began to pray aloud. + +The old woman by the fire slewed her head painfully round and stared +at him, then at Naomi. But Naomi was standing with her back to them +both, and her hands soaping the linen in the tub--gently, however, and +without any splashing. She therefore let her head sink back on the +cushion, and assumed that peculiarly dejected air, commonly reserved +by her for the consolations of religion. + +On this occasion William Geake prayed in a low and level tone, and +very briefly. He made no allusion to last Saturday, but put up an +earnest petition for blessings upon "our two sisters here," and that +they might learn to accept their appointed portion with resignation, +yea, even with a holy joy. At the end of two minutes he rose, and +was about to dust his knees, after his usual custom, but, becoming +suddenly aware of the difference in cleanliness between Naomi's +lime-ash and the floors of the various meeting-houses of his +acquaintance, refrained. This little piece of delicacy did not escape +Naomi, though her shoulders were still bent over the tub, to all +seeming as resolutely as ever. + +"Well, I swow that was very friendly of Mister Geake!" the old woman +ejaculated, as the door closed behind him. "'Tisn't everybody'd ha' +thought what a comfort a little scrap o' religion can be to an old +woman in my state." + +"He took a great liberty," said Naomi snappishly. + +"Well, he might ha' said as much as 'By your leave,' to be sure; +an' now you say so, 'twas makin' a bit free to talk about our +dependence--an' in my own kitchen too." + +"He meant our dependence on th' Almighty," Naomi corrected, still more +snappishly. "William Geake's an odd-fangled man, but you might give +'en credit for good-feelin'. An', what's more, though I don't hold +wi' Christian talk, if a man have a got beliefs, I respect 'en for +standin' to 'em without shame." + +"But I thought, a moment ago--" her mother began, and then subsided. +She was accustomed to small tangles in her own processes of thought, +and quite incapable, after years of blind acceptance, of correcting +Naomi's logic. + +No more was said on the matter. The next Saturday, after receiving his +shilling, Mr. Geake knelt down without any hesitation. It was clear he +wished this prayer to be a weekly institution, and an institution it +became. + +The women never knelt. Naomi, indeed, had never sanctioned the +innovation, unless by her silence, and her mother assisted only with a +very lugubrious "Amen," being too weak to stir from her chair. As the +months passed, it became evident to Geake that her strength would +never come back. The fever had left her, apparently for good; but the +rheumatism remained, and closed slowly upon the heart. The machine was +worn out. + +When the end came, Naomi had been doing the work single-handed for +close upon twelve months. She could always get a plenty of work, and +now took in a deal too much for her strength, to settle the doctor's +and undertaker's bills, and buy herself a black gown, cape, and +bonnet. The funeral, of course, took place on a Sunday. Geake, on the +Saturday afternoon, knocked gently at Naomi's door. His single +intent was to speak a word or two of sympathy, if she would listen. +Remembering her constant attitude under the Divine scourge, he felt a +trifle nervous. + +But there lay the shilling in the centre of the table, and there stood +Naomi in a cloud of steam, hard at work on an immoderate pile of +washing--even a man's miscalculating eye could see that it was +immoderate. + +"I didn't call--" he began, with a glance towards the shilling. + +"No; I know you didn't. But you may so well take it all the same." + +Geake had rehearsed a small speech, but found himself making out and +signing the voucher as usual; and, as usual, when it was signed, he +drew over a chair, and dropped on his knees. In prayer-meeting he was +a great hand at "improving" an occasion of bereavement; but here again +his will to speak impressively suddenly failed him. His words were: + +"Lord, there were two women grinding at a mill; the one was taken, and +t'other left. She that you took, you've a-carr'd beyond our prayers; +but O, be gentle, be gentle, to her that's left!" + +He arose, and looked shyly, almost shamefacedly, at Naomi. She had not +turned. But her head was bowed; and, drawing near, he saw that the +scalding tears were falling fast into the wash-tub. She had not wept +when her husband was lost, nor since. + +"Go away!" she commanded, before he could speak, turning her shoulders +resolutely towards him. + +He took up his hat, and went out softly, closing the door softly +behind him. + +His eye, which was growing quick to read Naomi's face, saw at once, +as he entered the room a week later, that she deprecated even the +slightest reference to her weakness. It also told him--he had not +guessed it before--that her emotional breakdown had probably more to +do with physical exhaustion than with any eloquence of his. The pile +of washing had grown, and the woman's face was grey with fatigue. + +Geake, as he made out the voucher, cast about for a polite mode of +hinting that this kind of thing must not go on. Nevertheless it was +Naomi who began. + +"Look here," she said, as he put down the voucher; "there ain't goin' +to be no more prayin', eh?" + +"Why, to be sure there is," he answered with a show of great +cheerfulness; and reached for a chair. + +"I'd liefer you didn't. I don't want it. I don't hold by any o't. +You'm very kind," she went on, her voice trembling for an instant and +then recovering its firmness, "and I reckon it soothed mother. But I +reckon it don't soothe me. I reckon it rubs me the wrong way. There's +times, when I hears a body prayin', that I wishes we was Papists again +and worshipped images, that I might throw stones at 'em!" + +She paused, looked up into Geake's devouring eyes, and added, with a +poor attempt at a laugh: + +"So you see, I'm wicked, an' don't want to be saved." + +Then the man broke forth: + +"Saved? No, I reckon you don't! Wicked? Iss, I reckon you be! But +saved you shall be--ay, if you was twice so wicked. Who'll do it? I'll +do it--I alone. I don't want your help. I want to do it in spite of +'ee: an' I'll lay that I do! Be your wickedness deep as hell, an' I'll +reach down a hand to the roots and pluck it up: be your salvation +stubborn as Death, I'll wrestle wi' the Lord for it. If I sell my own +soul for't, yours shall be redeemed!" + +He slammed down his fist on the rickety deal table, which promptly +collapsed flat on the floor, with its four legs splayed under the +circular cover. + +"Bein' a carpenter--" Geake began to stammer apologetically, and in a +totally different tone. + +For a second--two seconds--the issue hung between tears and laughter. +An hysterical merriment twinkled in Naomi's eyes. + +But the strength of Geake's passion saved the situation. He stepped up +to Naomi, laid a hand on each shoulder, and shook her gently to and +fro. + +"Listen to me! As I hold 'ee now, so I take your fate in my hands. +Naomi Bricknell, you've got to be my wife, so make up your mind to +that." + +She cowered a little under his grasp; put out a hand to push him off; +drew it back; and broke into helpless sobbing. But this time she did +not command him to go away. + +Fifteen minutes later William Geake left Vellan's Rents with joy on +his face and a broken table under his arm. + +And two days later Naomi's face wore a look of demure happiness when +Long Oliver stopped her on the staircase and asked, + +"Is it true, what I hear?" + +"It is true," she answered. + +"An' when be the banns called?" + +"There ain't goin' to be no banns." + +"Hey?" + +"There ain't goin' to be no banns; leastways, there ain't goin' to be +none called. We'm goin' to the Registry Office. You look all struck of +a heap. Was you hopin' to be best man?" + +"Well, I reckoned I'd take a hand in the responses," he answered; and +seemed about to say more, but turned on his heel and went back to his +room, shutting the door behind him. + + +III. + +We pass to a Saturday morning, two years later, and to William Geake's +cottage at the western end of Gantick village. + +Naomi had plucked three fowls and trussed them, and wrapping each in a +white napkin, had packed them in her basket with a dozen and a half of +eggs, a few pats of butter, and a nosegay or two of +garden-flowers--Sweet Williams, marigolds, and heart's-ease: for it was +market-day at Tregarrick. Then she put on boots and shawl, tied her +bonnet, and slung a second pair of boots across her arm: for the roads +were heavy and she would leave the muddy pair with a friend who lived at +the entrance of the town, not choosing to appear untidy as she walked up +the Fore Street. These arrangements made, she went to seek her husband, +who was busy planing a coffin-lid in the workshop behind the cottage, +and ruminating upon to-morrow's sermon. + +"You'll be about startin'," he said, lifting his head and pushing his +spectacles up over his eye-brows. + +Naomi set her basket down on his work-table, and drew her breath back +between her teeth--which is the Cornish mode of saying "Yes." "I want +you to make me a couple of skivers," she said. "Aun' Hambly sent over +word she'd a brace o' chicken for me to sell, an' I was to call for +'em: an' I'd be ashamed to sell a fowl the way she skivers it." + +William set down his plane, picked up an odd scrap of wood and cut out +the skewers with his pocket-knife; while Naomi watched with a smile +on her face. Whether or no William had recovered her soul, as he +promised, she had certainly given her heart into his keeping. The love +of such a widow, he found, is as the surrender of a maid, with wisdom +added. + +The skewers finished, he walked out through the house with her and +down the garden-path, carrying the basket as far as the gate. The +scent of pine-shavings came with him. Half-way down the path Naomi +turned aside and picking a sprig of Boy's Love, held it up for him +to smell. The action was trivial, but as he took the sprig they both +laughed, looking in each other's eyes. Then they kissed; and the staid +woman went her way down the road, while the staid man loitered for a +moment by the gate and watched her as she went. + +Now as he took his eyes away and glanced for an instant in the other +direction, he was aware of a man who had just come round the angle of +the garden hedge and, standing in the middle of the road, not a dozen +yards off, was also staring after his wife. + +This stranger was a broad-shouldered fellow in a suit of blue seaman's +cloth, the trousers of which were tucked inside a pair of Wellington +boots. His complexion was brown as a nut, and he wore rings in his +ears: but the features were British enough. A perplexed, ingratiating +and rather silly smile overspread them. + +The two men regarded each other for a bit, and then the stranger drew +nearer. + +"I do believe that was Na'mi," he said, nodding his head after the +woman's figure, that had not yet passed out of sight. + +William Geake opened his eyes wide and answered curtly, "Yes: that's +my wife--Naomi Geake. What then?" + +The man scratched his head, contemplating William as he might some +illegible sign-post set up at an unusually bothersome cross-road. + +"She keeps very han'some, I will say." His smile grew still more +ingratiating. + +"Was you wishin' to speak wi' her?" + +"Well, there! I was an' yet I wasn't. 'Tis terrible puzzlin'. You +don't know me, I dessay." + +"No, I don't." + +"I be called Abe Bricknell--A-bra-ham Bricknell. I used to be +Na'mi's husband, one time. There now"--with an accent of genuine +contrition--"I felt sure 'twould put you out." + +The tongue grew dry in William Geake's mouth, and the sunlight died +off the road before him. He stared at a blister in the green paint of +the garden-gate and began to peel it away slowly with his thumb-nail: +then, pulling out his handkerchief, picked away at the paint that had +lodged under the nail, very carefully, while he fought for speech. + +"I be altered a brave bit," said Naomi's first husband, still with his +silly smile. + +"Come into th' house," William managed to say at last; and turning, +led the way to the door. On his way he caught himself wondering why +the hum of the bees had never sounded so loudly in the garden before: +and this was all he could think about till he reached the doorstep. +Then he turned. + +"Th' Lord's ways be past findin' out," he said, passing a hand over +his eyes. + +"That's so: that's what _I_ say mysel'," the other assented +cheerfully, as if glad to find their wits jumping together. + +"Man!" William rounded on him fiercely. "What's kept 'ee, all these +years? Aw, man, man! do 'ee know what you've done?" + +"I'd a sun-stroke," said the wanderer, tapping his head and still +wearing his deprecatory smile; "a very bad sun-stroke. I sailed in the +_John S. Hancock_. I dessay Na'mi told you about that, eh?" + +"Get on wi' your tale." + +"Pete Hancock was cap'n. The vessel was called after his uncle, you +know, an' the Hancocks had a-bought up most o' the shares in her. +That's how Pete came to be cap'n. We sailed on a Friday--unlucky, I've +heard that is. But Pete said them that laid th' Atlantic cable had +started that day an' broke the spell. Pete had a lot o' tales, but he +made a poor cap'n; no head." + +"Look here," put in "William with desperate calm," I don't want to +know about Peter Hancock." + +"There's not much to know if you did. He made a very poor cap'n, +though it don't become one to say so, now he's gone. An affectionate +man, though, for all his short-comin's. The last time he brought his +vessel home from New Orleans he was in that pore to get back to his +wife an' childer, he ripped along the Gulf Stream and pretty well +ribbed the keelson out of her. Thought, I reckon, that since all the +shareholders belonged to his family th' expense wouldn' be grudged. +But I guess it made her tender. That's how she came to go down so +suddent." + +"She foundered?" + +"I'm comin' to that. We'd just run our nose into the tropics an' was +headin' down for Kingston Harbour--slippin' along at five knots easy +an' steady, an' not a sign of trouble. The time, so far as I can tell, +was somewhere near five bells in the middle watch. I'd turned in, +leavin' Pete on deck, an' was fast asleep; when all of a suddent a +great jolt sent me flyin' out o' the berth. As soon as I got my legs +an' wits again I was up on deck, and already the barque was settlin' +by the head like a burst crock. She'd crushed her breastbone in on a +sunken tramp of a derelict--a dismasted water-logged lump, that maybe +had been washin' about the Atlantic for twenty year' an' more before +her app'inted time came to drift across our fair-way an' settle the +hash o' the _John S. Hancock_. Sir, I reckon she went down inside o' +five minutes. We'd but bare time to get out one boat and push clear +o' the whirl of her. All hands jumped in; she was but a sixteen foot +boat, an' we loaded her down to the gun'l a'most. There was a brave +star-shine, but no moon. Cruel things happen 'pon the sea." + +He passed a hand over his eyes, as if to brush off the film his +sufferings had drawn across them. Then he pursued: + +"Cruel things happen 'pon the sea. We'd no food nor drink but a tin o' +preserved pears; Lord knows how that got there; but 'twas soon done. +Pete had a small compass, a gimcrack affair hangin' to his watch-chain, +an' we pulled by it west-sou'-west towards the nighest land, which we +made out must be some one or another o' the Leeward Islands; but 'twas +more to keep ourselves busy than for aught else: the boat was so low in +the water that even with the Trade to help us, we made but a mile an +hour, an' had to be balin' all day and all night. The third day, as the +sun grew hot, two o' the men went mad. We had to pitch 'em overboard an' +beat 'em off wi' the oars till they drowned: else they'd ha' sunk the +boat. This seemed to hang on Pete's mind, in a way. All the next night +he talked light-headed; said he could hear the dead men hailin' their +names. About midnight he jumped after 'em--to fetch 'em, he said--an' +was drowned. He took his compass with him, but that didn't make much +odds. The boat was lighter now, an' we hadn' to bale. Pretty soon I got +too weak to notice how the men went. I was lyin' wi' my head under the +stern sheets an' only pulled mysel' up, now an' then, to peer out over +the gun'l. I s'pose 'twas the splashes as the men went over that made me +do this. I don't know for certain. There was sharks about: cruel things +happen 'pon the sea. The boat was in a gashly cauch of blood too. One +chap--Jeff Tresawna it was: his mother lived over to Looe--had tried to +open a vein, to drink, an' had made a mess o't an' bled to death. Far as +I know there was no fightin' to eat one another, same as one hears tell +of now an' then. The men just went mad and jumped like sheep: 'twas a +reg'lar disease. Two would go quick, one atop of t'other; an' then +there'd be a long stillness, an' then a yellin' again an' two more +splashes, maybe three. All through it I was dozin', off an' on; an' I +reckon these things got mixed up an' repeated in my head: for our crew +was only sixteen all told, an' it seemed to me I'd heard scores go over. +Anyway I opened my eyes at last--night it was, an' all the stars +blazin'--an' the boat was empty all except me an' Jeff Tresawna, him +that had bled to death. He was lying up high in the bows, wi' his legs +stretched Out towards me along the bottom-boards. There was a twinkle o' +dew 'pon the thwarts an' gun'l, an' I managed to suck my shirt-sleeve, +that was wringin' wet, an' dropped off dozin' again belike. The nex' +thing I minded was a sort o' dream that I was home to Carne again, over +Pendower beach--that's where my father an' mother lived. I heard the +breakers quite plain. The sound of 'em woke me up. This was a little +after daybreak. The sound kept on after I'd opened my eyes, though not +so loud. I took another suck at my shirt-sleeve an' pulled myself up to +my knees by the thwart an' looked over. 'Twas the sound o' broken water, +sure enough, that I'd been hearing; an' 'twas breakin' round half a +dozen small islands, to leeward, between me an' the horizon. I call 'em +islands; but they was just rocks stickin' up from the sea, and birds on +'em in plenty; but otherwise, if you'll excuse the liberty, as bare as +the top o' your head." + +Geake nodded gravely, with set face. + +"I've heard since," went on the seaman, "that these were bits, so to +say, belongin' to the Leeward Islands, about eighty miles sou'west o' +St. Kitt's. Our boat must ha' driven past St. Kitt's, but just out o' +sight; or perhaps we'd passed a peep of it in the night-time. Well, as +you'll be guessin' the boat was pretty nigh to one o' these islands, +or I shouldn' ha' heard the wash. Half a mile off it was, I dessay, +an' a pretty big wash. This was caused by the current, no doubt, for +the wind was nex' to nothin', an' no swell around the boat. What's +more, the current was takin' us, broadside on, pretty well straight +for the rocks. There was no rudder an' only one oar left i' the boat; +an' that was broke off short at the blade. But I managed to slip it +over the starn an' made shift to keep her head straight. Her nose went +bump on the shore, an' then she swung round an' went drivin' past: me +not havin' strength left to put out a hand, much less to catch hold +an' stop the way on us. We might ha' driven past an' off to sea again, +if it hadn' been for a spit o' rock that reached out ahead. This +brought us up short, an' there we lay an' bump'd for a bit. I dessay +it took me half an hour to get out over the side: an' all the time I +kept hold o' the broken oar. I dunno why I did this: but it saved my +life afterwards. Hav'ee got such a thing as a drop o' cider in the +house?" + +"We go upon temperance principles here," said Geake. He rose and +brought a jug of water and a glass. + +"That'll do," said the wanderer, and helped himself. "Na'mi used to +take a glass o' beer wi' her meals, I remember. Well, as I was agoin' +to tell you, havin' got out o' the boat, I'd just sense enough left to +clamber up above high-water mark, an' there I sat starin' stupid-like +an' wonderin' how I'd done it. Down below, the boat was heavin' i' the +wash an' joltin' 'pon the rocks, an' I watched her--bump, bump, up an' +down, up an' down--wi' Jeff jamm'd by the shoulders i' the bows, and +glazin' up at me wi' a silly blank face, like as if he couldn' make it +all out. As the tide rose him up nearer, I crawled away further up. +Seemed to me he an' the boat was after me like a sick dream, an' I +grinned every time the timbers gave an extry loud crack. At last her +bottom was stove, an' she filled very quiet an' went down. The wind +was fresher by this an' some heavy clouds comin' up. Then it rained. +I don't rightly know if this was the same day or no: can't fit in the +days an' nights. But it rained heavy. There was a quill-feather lyin' +close by my hand--the rock was strewed wi' feathers an' the birds' +droppin's--an' with it I tried to get at the rain-water that was +caught in the crannies o' the rocks. While I was searchin' about I +came across an egg. It was stinkin', but I ate it. After that, feelin' +a bit stronger, I'd a mind to fix up the oar for a mark, in case any +vessel passed near an' me asleep or too weak to make a signal. I found +a handy chink i' the rock to plant it in, an' a rovin' pain I had in +my stomach while I was fixin' it. That was the egg, I dessay. An' my +head in a maze, too: but I'd sense enough to think now what a fool +I was not to have took Jeff's shirt off'n, to serve me for a flag. +Hows'ever, my own bein' wringin' wet, an' the sun pretty strong just +then, I slipped it off an' hitched it atop o' the oar to dry an' be a +flag at the same time, till I could rig up some kind o' streamer, out +o' the seaweed. An' then I was forced to vomit. And that's about the +last thing, Mister Geake, I can mind doin'. 'Tis all foolishness after +that. They tell me that a 'Merican schooner, the _Shawanee_, sighted +my shirt flappin', an' sent a boat an' took me off an' landed me at +New Orleens. My head was bad--oh, very bad--an' they put me in a +'sylum an' cured me. But they took eight year' over it, an' I doubt if +'tis much of a job after all. I wasn' bad all the time, I must tell +you, sir; but 'tis only lately my mem'ry would work any further back +'n the wreck o' the barque. Everything seemed to begin an' end wi' +that. 'Tis about a year back that some visitors came to the 'sylum. +There was a lady in the party, an' something in her face, when she +spoke to me, put me in mind o' Na'mi, an' I remembered I was a married +man. Inside of a fortnight, part by thinkin'--'tis hard work still +for me to think--part by dreamin', I'd a-worried it all out. I was +betterin' fast by that. Soon as I was well enough to be discharged, I +worked my passage home in a grain ship, the _Druid_, o' Liverpool. I +was reckonin' all the way back that Na'mi'd be main glad to see me +agen. But now I s'pose she won't." + +"It'll come nigh to killin' her." + +"I dessay, now, you two have got to be very fond? She used to be a +partic'lar lovin' sort o' woman." + +"I love her more 'n heaven!" William broke out; and then cowered as if +he half expected to be struck with lightning for the words. + +"I heard of her havin' married, down at the Fifteen Balls, at Troy. I +dropped in there to pick up the news." + +"What! You've been tellin' folks who you be!" + +"Not a word. First of all I was minded to play off a little surprise +'pon old Toms, the landlord, who didn' know me from Adam. But hearin' +this, just as I was a-leadin' up to my little joke, I thought maybe +'twould annoy Na'mi. She used to be very strict in some of her +notions." + +William Geake took two hasty turns up and down the little parlour. His +Bible, in which before breakfast he had been searching for a text, +lay open on the side table. Behind its place on the shelf was a +small skivet he had let into the wall; and in that drawer was stored +something over twenty-five pounds, the third of his savings. Geake +kept a bank-account, and the balance lay at interest with Messrs. +Climo and Hodges, of St. Austell. But he had the true countryman's +aversion to putting all his eggs in one basket; and although Messrs. +Climo and Hodges were safe as the Bank of England, preferred to keep +this portion of his wealth in his own stocking. He closed the Bible +hastily; rammed it back, upside down, in its place; then took it out +again, and stood holding it in his two hands and trembling. He was +living in sin: he was minded to sin yet deeper. And yet what had he +done to deserve Naomi in comparison with the unspeakable tribulations +this simple mariner had suffered? Sure, God must have preserved the +fellow with especial care, and of wise purpose brought him through +shipwreck, famine, and madness home to his lawful wife. The man had +made Naomi a good husband. Had William Geake made her a better? +(Husband?)--here he dropped the Bible down on the table again as if it +burned his fingers. Whatever had to be done must be done quickly. Here +was the innocent wrecker of so much happiness hanging on his lips for +the next word, watching wistfully for his orders, like any spaniel +dog. And Naomi would be back before nightfall. God was giving him no +time: it was unfair to hustle a man in this way. In the whirl of his +thoughts he seemed to hear Naomi's footfall drawing nearer and nearer +home. He could almost upbraid the Almighty here for leaving him and +Naomi childless. A child would have made the temptation irresistible. + +"I wish a'most that I'd never called, if it puts you out so terrible," +was the wanderer's plaintive remark after two minutes of silent +waiting. + +This sentence settled it. The temptation _was_ irresistible. Geake +unlocked the skivet, plunged a hand in and banged down a fistful of +notes on the table. + +"Here," said he; "here's five-an'-twenty pound'. You shall have it all +if you'll go straight out o' this door an' back to America." + + +IV. + +Half-an-hour later, William Geake was standing by his garden-gate +again. Every now and then he glanced down the road towards St. +Austell, and after each glance resumed his nervous picking at the +blister of green paint that had troubled him earlier in the day. He +was face to face with a new and smaller, but sufficiently vexing, +difficulty. Abe Bricknell had gone, taking with him the five +five-pound notes. So far so good, and cheap at the price. But the +skivet was empty: and the day was Saturday: and every Saturday +evening, as regularly as he wound up the big eight-day clock in the +kitchen, Naomi and he would sit down and count over the money. True he +had only to go to St. Austell and Messrs. Climo and Hodges would let +him draw five new notes. The numbers would be different, and Naomi +(prudent woman) always took note of the numbers: but some explanation +might be invented. The problem was: How to get to St. Austell and back +before Naomi's return? The distance was too great to be walked in +the time; and besides, the coffin must be ready by nightfall. He had +promised it; he was known for a man of his word; and owing to the +morning's interruption it would be a tough job to finish, at the +best. There was no help for it; and--so easy is the descent of +Avernus--Geake's unaccustomed wits were already wandering in a +wilderness of improbable falsehoods, when he heard the sound of wheels +up the road, and Long Oliver came along in Farmer Lear's red-wheeled +trap and behind Farmer Lear's dun-coloured mare. As he drew near at a +trot he eyed Geake curiously, and for a moment seemed inclined to pull +up, but thought better of it, and was passing with no more than a nod +of the head and "good-day." + +It was unusual, though, to see Long Oliver driving a horse and trap; +and Geake, moreover, had a sudden notion. + +"Good-mornin'," he answered; "whither bound?" + +"St. Austell. I've a bit of business to do, so I'm takin' a holiday; +in style, as you see." + +"I wonder now," Geake suggested, forgetting all about the coffin, "if +you'd give me a lift. I was just thinkin' this moment that I'd a bit +o' business there that had clean slipped my mind this week." + +This was transparently false to any one acquainted with Geake's +methodical habits. Long Oliver screwed up his eyes. + +"Can't, I'm afraid. I'm engaged to take up old Missus Oke an' her +niece at Tippet's corner; an' the niece's box. The gal's goin' in to +St. Austell, into service. So there's no room. But if there's any +little message I can take--" + +"When'll you be back?" + +"Somewhere's about five I'll be passin'." + +"Would 'ee mind waitin' a moment? I've a cheque I want cashed at Climo +and Hodges for a biggish sum: but you'm a man I can trust to bring +back the money safe." + +"Sutt'nly," said Long Oliver. + +Geake went into the house and wrote a short letter to the bankers. +He asked them to send back by messenger, and in return for cheque +enclosed, the sum of twenty-five pounds, in five new five-pound notes. +He was aware (he said) that the balance of his running account was but +a pound or two: but as they held something over fifty pounds of his on +deposit, he felt sure they would oblige him and enable him to meet a +sudden call. + +"Twenty-five pounds is the sum," he explained; "an' you must be sure +to get it in five-pound notes--_new five-pound notes_. You'll not +forget that?" He closed the envelope and handed it up to Long Oliver, +who buttoned it in his breast-pocket. + +"You shall have it, Mr. Geake, by five o'clock this evenin'," said he, +giving the reins a shake on the mare's back; "so 'long!" and he rattled +off. + +A mile, and a trifle more, beyond Geake's cottage, he came in sight +of a man clad in blue sailor's cloth, trudging briskly ahead. Long +Oliver's lips shaped themselves as if to whistle; but he made no sound +until he overtook the pedestrian, when he pulled up, looked round in +the man's face, and said-- + +"Abe Bricknell!" + +The sailor came to a sudden halt, and went very white in the face. + +"How do you know my name?" he asked, uneasily. + +"'Recognised 'ee back in Troy, an' borrowed this here trap to drive +after 'ee. Get up alongside. I've summat to say to 'ee." + +Bricknell climbed up without a word, and they drove along together. + +"Where was you goin'?" Long Oliver asked, after a bit. + +"To Charlestown." + +"To look for a ship?" + +"Yes." + +"Goin' back to America?" + +"Yes." + +"You've been callin' on William Geake: an' you didn' find Naomi at +home." + +"Geake don't want it known." + +"That's likely enough. You've got twenty-five pound' o' his in your +pocket." + +Abe Bricknell involuntarily put up a hand to his breast. + +"Ay, it's there," said Long Oliver, nodding. "It's odd now, but I've +got twenty-five pound in gold in _my_ pocket; an' I want you to swop." + +"I don't take ye, Mister--" + +"Long Oliver, I'm called in common. Maybe you remembers me?" + +"Why, to be sure! I thought I minded your face. But still I don't take +your meanin' azactly." + +"I didn' suppose you would. So I'm goin' to tell 'ee. Fourteen year' +back I courted Naomi, an' she used me worse 'n a dog. Twelve year' +back she married you. Nine year' back you went to sea in the _John S. +Hancock_, an' was wrecked off the Leeward Isles an' cast up on a spit +o' rock. I'd been hangin' about New Orleens, just then, at a loose +end, an' bein' in want o' cash, took a scamper in the _Shawanee_, a +dirty tramp of a schooner knockin' in an' out and peddlin' notions +among the West Indy Islanders. As you know we caught sight o' your +signal an' took you off, an' you went to a mad-house. You was clean +off your head an' didn' know me from Adam; an' I never let on that I +knew you or the ship you'd sailed in. 'Seemed to me the hand o' God +was in it, an' I saw my way to cry quits wi' Naomi." + +"I don't see." + +"I don't suppose you do. But 'twas this way:--Naomi (thinks I) 'll be +givin' this man up afore long. She's a takeable woman, an' by-'n-bye, +some new man'll set eyes on her. Then, thinks I, her banns'll be +called in Church, an' I'll be there an' forbid 'em. Do 'ee see now?" + +"That was very clever o' you," replied the simple seaman, and added +with obvious sincerity, "I'm sure I should never ha' thought 'pon +anything so clever as that. But why didn' you carry it out?" + +"Because God Almighty was cleverer. Times an' times I'd pictured it up +in my head how 'twould all work out; an' the parson in his surplice +stuck all of a heap; an' the heads turnin' to look; an' the women +faintin'. An' when the moment came for a man to claim her, what d'ye +think she did? But there, a head like yours 'd never guess--_why she +went to a Registry Office, an' there weren't no banns at all_. That +overcame me. I seed the wisdom o' Providence from that hour. I be a +converted man. An' I'm damned if I'll let you come along an' upset the +apple-cart after all these years. Can 'ee write?" + +"Tolerable, though I'm no hand at spellin'." + +"Very well. We'll have a drink together at St. Austell, an' while +we're there you shall do up Geake's notes in an envelope with a note +sayin' your compliments, but on second thoughts you couldn't think o' +takin' his money." + +Bricknell's face fell somewhat. + +"You gowk! You'll have twenty-five pound' o' mine in exchange: solid +money, an' my own earnin's. I've more 'n that in my pocket here." + +"But I don't see why _you_ should want to give me money." + +"An' you'm too mad to see if I explained. 'Tis a matter o' conscience, +an' you may take it at that. When the letter's wrote--best not sign +it, by the way, for fear of accidents--you give it to me an' I'll see +Geake gets it to-night. After that's written I'll pay your fare to +Liverpool, an' then you'll get a vessel easy. Now I see your mouth +openin' and makin' ready to argue--" + +"I was goin' to say, Long Oliver, that you seem to be actin' very +noble, now: but 'twas a bit hard on _me_, your holdin' your tongue as +you did." + +"So 'twas, so 'twas. I reckon some folks is by nature easy forgotten, +an' you'm one. If that's your character, I hope to gracious you'm +goin' to keep it up. An' twenty-five pound' is a heap o' money for +such a man as you." + +"It is," the wanderer asserted. "Ay, I feel that." + +At twenty minutes to five that evening, Long Oliver pulled up again by +the green garden-gate. William Geake from his workshop had caught the +sound of the mare's hoofs three minutes before, and awaited him. + +"One, two, three, four, five." The notes were counted out +deliberately. Long Oliver, having been thanked, gathered up his reins +and suddenly set them down again. + +"Dear me," said he, "if I hadn' almost forgot! I've a letter for 'ee, +too." + +"Eh?" + +"Iss. A kind of a sailor-like lookin' chap came up to me i' the Half +Moon yard as I was a takin' out the mare. 'Do you come from Gantick?' +says he, seein' no doubt Farmer Lear's name 'pon the cart. 'There or +thereabouts,' says I. 'Know Mister W. Geake?' says he. 'Well,' says +I. 'Then, if you're passin', I wish you'd give 'en this here letter,' +says he, an' that's all 'e said." + +"I wonder who 'twas," said Geake. But his face was white. + +"Don't know 'en by sight. Said 'e was in a great hurry for to catch +the up train. Which puts me i' mind I must be movin' on. Good-night +t'ye, neighbour!" + +As soon as he had turned the corner, Geake opened the letter. + + * * * * * + +When Naomi returned, half-an-hour later, she found him standing at the +gate as if he had spent the day there: as, indeed, he might have, for +all the work done to the coffin. + +"I must bide up to-night an' finish that job," he said, when they were +indoors and she began asking how in the world he had been spending his +time. "I've been worryin' mysel' all day." + +"It's those sermons agen," Naomi decided. "They do your head no good, +an' I wish you'd give up preachin'." + +"Now that's just what I'm goin' to do," he answered, pushing the +Bible far into the shelf till its edges knocked on the wood of the +skivet-drawer. + + + + +THE PRINCE OF ABYSSINIA'S POST-BAG. + + +I.--AN INTERRUPTION: + +_From Algernon Dexter, writer of Vers de Societe, London, to Rasselas, +Prince of Abyssinia_. + + +My dear prince,--Our correspondence has dwindled of late. Indeed, I do +not remember to have heard from you since I wrote to acknowledge your +kindness in standing godfather to my boy Jack (now rising two), and +the receipt of the beautiful scimitar which, as a christening present, +accompanied your consent. Still I do not forget the promise you +exacted from "Q." and myself after lunch at the Mitre, on the day when +we took our bachelors' degrees together--that if in our paths through +life we happened upon any circumstance that seemed to throw fresh +light on the dark, complex workings of the human heart, or at least +likely to prove of interest to a student of his fellow men, we would +write it down and despatch it to you, under cover of The Negus. During +the months of my engagement to Violet these communications of mine +(you will allow) were frequent enough: since our marriage they have +grown shamefully fewer. Possibly I lose alertness while I put on +flesh: it is the natural hebetudus of happiness. "Q."--who is never +seen now upon London stones--no doubt sends you a plenty of what +passes for news in that parish which it is his humour to prefer to the +Imperial City. But, believe me, the very finest romance is still to be +had in London: and to prove this I am going to tell you a story that, +upon my soul, Prince, will make you sit up. + +Until last night the Seely-Hardwickes were a force in this capital. +They were three,--Seely-Hardwicke himself, who owned a million or +more, and to my knowledge drank Hollands and smoked threepenny Returns +in his Louis Quinze library; Mrs. Seely-Hardwicke, as beautiful as +the moon and clever to sinfulness; and Billy, their child, aged +seven-and-a-half. To-day their whereabouts would be as difficult to +find as that of the boy in Mrs. Hemans's ballad. You jump to the guess +that they have lost their money. You are wrong. + +It was amassed in the canned-fruit trade, which, I understand, +does not fluctuate severely, though doubtless in the last instance +dependent on the crops. Seely-Hardwicke and his wife were ready to +lose any amount of it at cards, which accounts for a measure of their +success. It had been found (with Mrs. Seely-Hardwicke) somewhere +on the Pacific Slope, by a destitute Yorkshireman who had tired of +driving rivets on the Clyde and betaken himself across the Atlantic, +for a change, in front of a furnace some thirty-odd feet below decks. +Of his adventures in the Great Republic nothing is known but this, +that he drove into the silence of its central plain at the tail of a +traction engine and emerged on its western shore, three years later, +with a wife, a child and a growing pile. With this pile there grew +a desire to spend it in his own country; and the family landed at +Liverpool on Billy's sixth birthday. I think their double-barrelled +name must have been invented by Mrs. Seely-Hardwicke on the voyage. + +I first made Billy's acquaintance in the Row, where a capable groom +was teaching him to ride a very small skewbald pony. This happened in +the week after our Jack was born, when I was perforce companionless: +but as soon as Violet could ride again, she too fell a victim to the +red curls and seraphic face of this urchin. And so, when Billy's +mother began, later in the season, to appear in the Row, Billy (now +promoted to a larger pony) introduced us in his own fashion and we +quickly made friends. By this time she had been "presented," and was +fairly on her feet in London: and henceforward her career resembled +not so much a conquest as the progress of a Roman Emperor. I am not +referring to the vulgar achievements of mere wealth. Wherever these +people went, to be sure, they left outposts--a Mediterranean villa, +a deer forest behind the Grampians, small Saturday-to-Monday +establishments beside the Thames and the North Sea, and furnished +abodes on short leases near Newmarket and Ascot Heaths; not to mention +nomadic trifles such as houseboats and yachts. Any one with money can +purchase these, and any one having a cook can fill them with people +of a sort. The quality of Mrs. Seely-Hardwicke's success was seen in +this, that from the first she knew none but the right people: and +though, as her circle widened, it included names of higher and yet +higher lustre, yet (if I may press a somewhat confused metaphor) its +rings were concentric and hardly distinct. She never, I believe, was +forced to drop an old acquaintance because she had found a new one. +The just estimate of our Western manners which you, my dear Prince, +formed at Balliol, will enable you to grasp the singularity of such a +triumph. Its rapidity, I must admit, perplexes me still. But in +those old days we studied Arnold Toynbee overmuch and neglected +the civilising influences of the card-table. By the time the +Seely-Hardwickes took their house near Hyde Park Corner, philanthropy +was beginning to stale and our leaders to perceive that the +rejuvenation of society must be effected (if at all) not by bestowing +money on the poor, but by losing it to the rich. Seely-Hardwicke +himself was understood to spend most of his time in the City, looking +after the interests of canned fruits and making small fortunes out of +his redundant cash. + +You will readily understand that we soon came to see little of our new +acquaintances. A small private income and the trivial wage commanded +by society verses in this country (so different in many respects from +Abyssinia) confined us to a much narrower orbit. But we were invited +pretty often to their dinners, and the notes I have given you were +taken on these occasions. Last night there were potentates at Mrs. +Seely-Hardwicke's--several imported, and one of British growth. +To-day--but you shall hear it in the fewest words. + +Three days back, Billy failed to turn up in the Row. We met his mother +riding alone and asked the reason. She told us the child had a cough +and something of a sore throat and she thought it wiser to keep him at +home. + +On the next day, and yesterday, he was still absent. In the evening we +went to the Seely-Hardwicke's dance. The thing was wonderfully done. +An exuberant vegetation that suggested a virgin forest was qualified +by the presence of several hundred people. It was impossible to dance +or to feel lonely; and our hostess looked radiant as the moon in +the reflected rays of her success. We shook hands with her and were +swallowed in the crowd. + +About half-an-hour later, as I watched the crush from a recess beside +an open window and listened to the waltz that the band was playing, +Seely-Hardwicke himself thrust his way towards me. He was crumpled and +perspiring copiously: but the glory of it all sat on his blunt face +yet more openly than on his wife's lovely features. + +"I've not been here above ten minutes," he explained. "Had to run +down to Liverpool suddenly last night, and only reached King's Cross +something less 'n an hour back. Quick work." + +"How's Billy?" I asked, after a few commonplace words. + +"Off colour, still. I went up to see him, just now: but the nurse +wouldn't let him be disturbed; said he was sleepin'. Best thing for +him. You'll see him out, as lively as a lark, to-morrow." + +"And getting stopped, as usual, by the police for expounding his idea +of a canter in the Ladies' Mile." + +He laughed. "Hey? I like that. I like spirit. He looks fragile--he's +like his mother for that--but they're game every inch, the pair of +'em. You may think me silly, but I don't know that I can last out this +without runnin' up to have a look at him. I haven't seen him for two +days." + +I believe he was on the point of launching out into any number +of fatherly confidences. But at this point he was claimed by an +acquaintance some ten paces off; and, plunging among his guests, was +lost to me. + +I cannot tell you, my dear Prince, how much time elapsed between this +and the arrival of the home-grown Potentate--as you must allow me to +call him until we meet and I can whisper his august name. But I know +that shortly after his arrival, while I still loafed in my recess and +hoped that Violet would soon drift in my direction and allow herself +to be taken home, the throng around me began to thin in a most curious +manner. How it happened--whence it started and how it spread--I cannot +tell you. Only it seemed as if something began to be whispered, and +the whisper melted the crowd like sugar. Almost before I grew aware +of what was happening, I could see the far side of the room, and the +Potentate there by Mrs. Seely-Hardwicke's side; and could mark their +faces. His was cast in a polite, but slightly rigid smile. His eyes +wandered. That supernumerary sense which all his family possesses had +warned him that something was wrong. Mrs. Seely-Hardwicke's face was +white as chalk, though her eyes returned his smile. + +At this moment Violet came towards me. + +"Take me home," she commanded, but under her breath. As she said it +she shivered. + +"What on earth is the matter?" I demanded. + +She pulled me by the sleeve. I looked up and saw a white-haired man, +of military carriage, walking towards His Royal Highness. He came to +a halt, a pace off, and stood as if anxious to speak. I saw also +that Mrs. Seely-Hardwicke would not allow him a chance, but talked +desperately. I saw groups of people, up and down the room, regarding +her even as we. And then the door was flung open. + +Seely-Hardwicke came running in with Billy in his arms--or rather, +with Billy's body. The child had died at four that afternoon, of +diphtheria. + +I got Violet out of the room as soon as I could. The man's language +was frightful--filthy. And his wife straightened herself up and +answered him back. It was a babel of obscene Frisco curses: but I +remember one clear sentence of hers from the din-- + +"You--, you! And d'ye think _my_ heart won't go to pieces when my +stays are cut?" + + * * * * * + +All the way home Violet kept sobbing and crying out that she was never +driven so slowly. She was convinced that some harm had happened to +her own Jack. She ran up to the night-nursery at once and woke your +god-child out of a healthy sleep. And he arose in his full strength +and yelled. + + +II.--THE GREAT FIRE ON FREETHY'S QUAY. + +_From "Q_." + + +Troy Town. + +New Year's Eve, 1892. + +MY DEAR PRINCE,--The New Year is upon us, a season which the devout +Briton sets aside for taking stock of his short-comings. I know not if +Prester John introduced this custom among the Abyssinians: but we find +it very convenient here. + +In particular I have been vexing myself to-day over the gradual +desuetude of our correspondence. Doubtless the fault is mine: and +doubtless I compare very poorly with Dexter, whose letters are bound +to be bright and frequent. But Dexter clings to London; and from +London, as from your own Africa, _semper aliquid novi_. But of Troy +during these twelve months there has been little or nothing to delate. +The small port has been enjoying a period of quiet which even the +General Election, last summer, did not seriously disturb. As you know, +the election turned on the size of mesh proper to be used in the +drift-net fishery. We wore favours of red, white and blue, symbolising +our hatred of the mesh favoured by Mr. Gladstone; and carried our man. +Had other constituencies as sternly declined to fritter away their +voting strength upon side issues, Lord Salisbury would now be in power +with a solid majority at his back. + +My purpose, however, is not to talk of politics, but to give you +a short description of an event which has greatly excited us, and +redeemed from monotony (though at the eleventh hour) the year Eighteen +ninety-two. I refer to the great fire on Freethy's Quay, where Mr. Wm. +Freethy has of late been improving his timber-store with a number of +the newest mechanical inventions; among others, with a steam engine +which operates on a circular saw, and impels it to cut up oak poles +(our winter fuel) with incredible rapidity. It was here that the +outbreak occurred, on Christmas Eve--of all days in the year--between +five and six o'clock in the afternoon. + +But I should first tell you that our town has enjoyed a long immunity +from fires; and although we possess a Volunteer Fire Brigade, at once +efficient and obliging, and commanded by Mr. Patrick Sullivan (an +Irishman), the men have had little or no opportunity of combating +their sworn foe. The Brigade was founded in the early autumn of 1873, +and presented by public subscription with a handsome manual engine and +a wooden house to contain it. This house, painted a bright vermilion, +is a conspicuous object at the top of the hill above the town, as +you turn off towards the Rope-walk. The firemen, of course, wear an +appropriate uniform, with brazen helmets and shoulder-straps and a +neat axe apiece, suspended in a leathern case from the waistband. But +the spirit of make-believe has of necessity animated all their public +exercise, if I except the 13th of April, 1879, when a fire broke out +in the back premises of Mr. Tippett, carpenter. His shop was (and +is) situated in the middle of the town, and in those days a narrow +gatehouse gave, or rather prevented, access to the town on either +side. These houses stood, one at the extremity of North Street, beside +the Ferry Slip, the other at the south end of the Fore Street, where +it turns the corner by the Ship Inn and mounts Lostwithiel Hill. With +their low-browed arches, each surmounted by a little chamber for the +toll-keeper, they recalled in an interesting manner the days when +local traffic was carried on solely by means of pack-horses; but by an +unfortunate oversight their straitness had been left out of account by +the donors of the fire-engine, which stuck firmly in the passage below +Lostwithiel Hill and could be drawn neither forwards nor back, thus +robbing the Brigade of the result of six years' practice. For the +engine filled up so much of the thoroughfare that the men could +neither climb over nor round it, but were forced to enter the town by +a circuitous route and find, to their chagrin, Mr. Tippett's premises +completely gutted. For three days all our traffic entered and left +the town perforce by the north side; but two years after, on the +completion of the railway line to Troy, these obstructive gatehouses +were removed, to give passage to the new Omnibus. + +Let me proceed to the story of our more recent alarm. At twenty +minutes to five, precisely, on Christmas Eve, Mr. Wm. Freethy left his +engine-room by the door which opens on the Quay; turned the key, which +he immediately pocketed; and proceeded towards his mother's house, at +the western end of the town, where he invariably takes tea. The wind +was blowing strongly from the east, where it had been fixed for three +days, and the thermometer stood at six degrees below freezing. +Indeed, I had remarked, early in the morning, that an icicle of quite +respectable length (for a small provincial town), depended from the +public water-tap under the Methodist Chapel. About twenty minutes +after Mr. Freethy's departure, some children, who were playing about +the Quay, observed dense volumes of smoke (as they thought) issuing +from under the engine-room door. They gave the alarm. I happened to +be in the street at the time, purchasing muscatels for the Christmas +snap-dragon, and, after rushing up to the Quay to satisfy myself, +proceeded with all haste to Mr. Sullivan, Captain of the Brigade. + +I found him at tea, but behaving in a somewhat extraordinary manner. +It is well known that Mr. and Mrs. Sullivan suffer occasionally from +domestic disagreement, due, in great measure, to the lady's temper. +Mr. Sullivan was sitting at the table with a saucer inverted upon his +head, a quantity of tea-leaves matted in his iron-grey hair, and their +juice trickling down his face. On hearing my alarming intelligence, he +said: + +"I had meant to sit there for some time; indeed, until my little boy +returns with the Vicar, whom I have sent for to witness the effects of +my wife's temper. I was sitting down to tea when I heard a voice +in the street calling 'Whiting!'--a fish of which I am extremely +fond--and ran out to procure threepenny worth. On my return, my wife +here--I suppose, because she objects to clean the fish--assaulted me +in the manner you behold." + +With praiseworthy public spirit, however, Mr. Sullivan forewent his +revenge, and, having cleansed his hair, ran with all speed to get out +the fire-engine. + +Returning to the Quay, at about 5 p.m., I found a large crowd +assembled before the engine-room door, from which the vapour was +pouring in dense clouds. The Brigade came rattling up with their +manual in less than ten minutes. As luck would have it, this was just +the hour when the mummers, guise dancers and darkey-parties were +dressing up for their Christmas rounds; and the appearance +presented by the crowd in the deepening dusk would, in less serious +circumstances, have been extremely diverting. Two of the firemen wore +large moustaches of burnt cork beneath their helmets, and another (who +was cast to play the Turkish Knight) had found no time to remove the +bright blue dye he had been applying to his face. The pumpmaker had +come as Father Christmas, and the blacksmith (who was forcing the +door) looked oddly in an immense white hat, a flapping collar and a +suit of pink chintz with white bone buttons. He had not accomplished +his purpose when I heard a shout, and, looking up the street, saw Mr. +Wm. Freethy approaching at a brisk run. He is forty-three years old, +and his figure inclines to rotundity. The wind, still in the east, +combined with the velocity of his approach to hold his coat-tails in a +line steadily horizontal. In his right hand he carried a large slice +of his mother's home-made bread, spread with yellow plum jam; a +semicircular excision of the crumb made it plain that he had been +disturbed in his first mouthful. The crowd parted and he advanced to +the door; laid his slice of bread and jam upon the threshold; searched +in his fob pocket for the key; produced it; turned it in the lock; +picked up his bread and jam again; opened the door; took a bite; and +plunged into the choking clouds that immediately enveloped his person. + +While the concourse waited, in absolute silence, the atmosphere of the +engine-house cleared as if by magic, and Mr. Wm. Freethy was visible +again in the converging rays of six bull's-eye lanterns held forward +by six members of the Fire Brigade. One hand still held the bread and +jam; the other grasped a stop-cock which he had that instant turned, +shutting off the outpour of steam we had taken for smoke. Some one +tittered; but the general laugh was prevented by a resounding splash. +The recoiling crowd had backed against the fire-engine outside, and +inadvertently thrust it over the Quay's edge into two fathoms of +water! + +We left it there till the tide should turn, and forming into +procession, marched back through the streets. I never witnessed +greater enthusiasm. I do not believe Troy held a man, woman, or child +that did not turn out of doors to cheer and laugh. Presently a verse +sprang up:-- + + "_The smoke came out at Freethy's door, + An' down came Sullivan with his corps. + 'My dears,' says Freethy,' don't 'ee pour! + For the smoke be steam an' nothin' more-- + But what hav' 'ee done wi' the En-gine_?'" + +And the firemen, by shouting it as heartily as the rest, robbed the +epigram of all its sting. + +But the best of it, my dear Prince, was still to come. For at +half-past eight (that being the time of low water) a salvage corps +assembled and managed to drag the engine ashore by means of stout +tackle hitched round the granite pedestal that stands on Freethy's +Quay to commemorate the visit of Queen Victoria and Prince Albert, who +landed there on the 8th of September, 1846. The guise-dancers paraded +it through the streets until midnight, when they gave it over to the +carollers, who fed it with buckets; and as the poor machine was but +little damaged, brisk jets of water were made to salute the citizens' +windows simultaneously with the season's holy songs. I, who have a +habit of sleeping with my window open, received an icy shower-bath +with the opening verse of "Christians, awake! Salute the Happy +Morn...." + +On Saturday next the Brigade assembles for a Grand Salvage Banquet in +the Town Hall. There will be speeches. Accept, my dear Prince, all +possible good wishes for the New Year.... + +"Q." + + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Delectable Duchy +by Arthur Thomas Quiller-Couch + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 12277 *** diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..440b3b3 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #12277 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12277) diff --git a/old/12277-8.txt b/old/12277-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..844a937 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/12277-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,6849 @@ +Project Gutenberg's The Delectable Duchy, by Arthur Thomas Quiller-Couch + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Delectable Duchy + +Author: Arthur Thomas Quiller-Couch + +Release Date: May 6, 2004 [EBook #12277] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DELECTABLE DUCHY *** + + + + +Produced by Ted Garvin, Josephine Paolucci and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. + + + + + +THE DELECTABLE DUCHY + + +BY Q + +1906 + + + + +SHORT STORY + +To + +ALFRED PARSONS + + + + +CONTENTS + + +PROLOGUE +THE SPINSTER'S MAYING +DAPHNIS +WHEN THE SAP ROSE +THE PAUPERS +CUCKOO VALLEY RAILWAY +THE CONSPIRACY ABOARD THE "MIDAS" +LEGENDS OF ST. PIRAN. + I St. Piran: the Millstone + II St. Piran: the Visitation +IN THE TRAIN. + I. Punch's Understudy + II. A Corrected Contempt +WOON GATE +FROM A COTTAGE IN GANTICK. + I. The Mourner's Horse + II. Silhouettes +THE DRAWN BLIND +A GOLDEN WEDDING +SCHOOL FRIENDS +PARENTS AND CHILDREN. + I. The Family Bible + II. Boanerges +TWO MONUMENTS +EGG-STEALING +SEVEN-AN'-SIX +THE REGENT'S WAGER +LOVE OF NAOMI +THE PRINCE OF ABYSSINIA'S POST-BAG. + I. An Interruption + II. The Great Fire on Freethy's Quay + + + + +PROLOGUE. + + +A week ago, my friend the Journalist wrote to remind me that once upon +a time I had offered him a bed in my cottage at Troy and promised to +show him the beauties of the place. He was about (he said) to give +himself a fortnight's holiday, and had some notion of using that time +to learn what Cornwall was like. He could spare but one day for Troy, +and hardly looked to exhaust its attractions; nevertheless, if my +promise held good.... By anticipation he spoke of my home as a "nook." +Its windows look down upon a harbour, wherein, day by day, vessels +of every nation and men of large experience are for ever going and +coming; and beyond the harbour, upon leagues of open sea, highway +of the vastest traffic in the world: whereas from his own far more +expensive house my friend sees only a dirty laurel-bush, a high green +fence, and the upper half of a suburban lamp post. Yet he is convinced +that I dwell in a nook. + +I answered his letter, warmly repeating the invitation; and last week +he arrived. The change had bronzed his face, and from his talk I +learnt that he had already seen half the Duchy, in seven days. Yet he +had been unreasonably delayed in at least a dozen places, and used the +strongest language about 'bus and coach communication, local trains, +misleading sign-posts, and the like. Our scenery enraptured him--every +aspect of it. He had travelled up the Tamar to Launceston, crossed +the moors, climbing Roughtor and Brown Willy on his way, plunged down +towards Camelford, which he appeared to have reached by following two +valleys simultaneously, coached to Boscastle, walked to Tintagel, +climbed up to Uther's Castle, diverged inland to St. Nectan's Kieve, +driven on to Bedruthan Steps, Mawgan, the Vale of Lanherne, Newquay, +taken a train thence to Truro, a steamer from Truro to Falmouth, +crossed the ferry to St. Mawes, walked up the coast to Mevagissey, +driven from Mevagissey to St. Austell, and at St. Austell taken +another train for Troy. This brought half his holiday to a close: the +remaining half he meant to devote to the Mining District, St. Ives, +the Land's End, St. Michael's Mount, the Lizard, and perhaps the +Scilly Isles. + +Then I began to feel that I lived in a nook, and to wonder how I could +spin out its attractions to cover a whole day: for I could not hear to +think of his departing with secret regret for his lavished time. In +a flash I saw the truth; that my love for this spot is built up of +numberless trivialities, of small memories all incommunicable, or +ridiculous when communicated; a scrap of local speech heard at this +corner, a pleasant native face remembered in that doorway, a battered +vessel dropping anchor--she went out in the spring with her crew +singing dolefully; and the grey-bearded man waiting in his boat +beneath her counter till the custom-house officers have made their +survey is the father of one among the crew, and is waiting to take +his son's hand again, after months of absence. Would this interest my +friend, if I pointed it out to him? Or, if I walk with him by the path +above the creek, what will he care to know that on this particular +bank the violets always bloom earliest--that one of a line of +yews that top the churchyard wall is remarkable because a pair of +missel-thrushes have chosen it to build in for three successive years? +The violets are gone. The empty nest has almost dissolved under the +late heavy rains, and the yew is so like its fellows that I myself +have no idea why the birds chose it. The longer I reflected the +more certain I felt that my friend could find all he wanted in the +guide-books. + +None the less, I did my best: rowed him for a mile or two up the +river; took him out to sea, and along the coast for half a dozen +miles. The water was choppy, as it is under the slightest breeze from +the south-east; and the Journalist was sea-sick; but seemed to mind +this very little, and recovered sufficiently to ask my boatman two or +three hundred questions before we reached the harbour again. Then +we landed and explored the Church. This took us some time, owing to +several freaks in its construction, for which I blessed the memory +of its early-English builders. We went on to the Town Hall, the old +Stannary Prison (now in ruins), the dilapidated Block-houses, the +Battery. We traversed the town from end to end and studied the +barge-boards and punkin-ends of every old house. I had meanly ordered +that dinner should he ready half-an-hour earlier than usual, and, as +it was, the objects of interest just lasted out. + +As we sat and smoked our cigarettes after dinner, the Journalist +said-- + +"If you don't mind, I'll he off in a few minutes and shut myself up in +your study. I won't he long turning out the copy; and after that I can +talk to you without feeling I've neglected my work. There's an early +post here, I suppose?" + +"Man alive!" said I, "you don't mean to tell me that you're working, +this holiday?" + +"Only a letter for the 'Daily ----' three times a week--a column and a +half, or so." + +"The subject?" + +"Oh, descriptive stuff about the places I've been visiting. I call it +'An Idler in Lyonesse.'" + +"Why Lyonesse?" + +"Why not?" + +"Well, Lyonesse has lain at the bottom of the Atlantic, between Land's +End and Scilly, these eight hundred years. The chroniclers relate that +it was overwhelmed and lost in 1099, A.D. If your Constant Readers +care to ramble there, they're welcome, I'm sure." + +"I had thought" said he, "it was just a poet's name for Cornwall. +Well, never mind, I'll go in presently and write up this place: it's +just as well to do it while one's impressions are still fresh." + +He finished his coffee, lit a fresh cigarette, and strolled off to the +little library where I usually work. I stepped out upon the verandah +and looked down on the harbour at my feet, where already the vessels +were hanging out their lamps in the twilight. I had looked down thus, +and at this hour, a thousand times; and always the scene had something +new to reveal to me, and much more to withhold--small subtleties such +as a man finds in his wife, however ordinary she may appear to other +people. And here, in the next room, was a man who, in half-a-dozen +hours, felt able to describe Troy, to deck her out, at least, in +language that should captivate a million or so of breakfasting +Britons. + +"My country," said I, "if you have given up, in these six hours, a +tithe of your heart to this man--if, in fact, his screed be not +arrant bosh--then will I hie me to London for good and all, and write +political leaders all the days of my life." + +In an hour's time the Journalist came sauntering out to me, and +announced that his letter was written. + +"Have you sealed it up?" + +"Well, no. I thought you might give me an additional hint or two; and +maybe I might look it over again and add a few lines before turning +in." + +"Do you mind my seeing it?" + +"Not the least in the world, if you care to. I didn't think, though, +that it could possibly interest you, who know already every mortal +thing that is to be known about the place." + +"You're mistaken. I may know all about this place when I die, but not +before. Let's hear what you have to say." + +We went indoors, and he read it over to me. + +It was a surprisingly brilliant piece of description; and accurate, +too. He had not called it "a little fishing-town," for instance, as so +many visitors have done in my hearing, though hardly a fishing-boat +puts out from the harbour. The guide-books call it a fishing-town, but +the Journalist was not misled, though he had gone to them for a number +of facts. I corrected a date and then sat silent. It amazed me that a +man who could see so much, should fail to perceive that what he had +seen was of no account in comparison with what he had not: or that, +if he did indeed perceive this, he could write such stuff with such +gusto. "To be capable of so much and content with so little," I +thought; and then broke off to wonder if, after all, he were not +right. To-morrow he would be on his way, crowding his mind with quick +and brilliant impressions, hurrying, living, telling his fellows a +thousand useful and pleasant things, while I pored about to discover +one or two for them. + +"I thought," said the Journalist, swinging his gold pencil-case +between finger and thumb, "you might furnish me with just a hint or +so, to give the thing a local colour. Some little characteristic of +the natives, for instance. I noticed, this afternoon, when I was most +sea-sick, that your fellow took off his hat and pulled something out +of the lining. I was too ill to see what it was; but he dropped it +overboard the next minute and muttered something." + +"Oh, you remarked that, did you?" + +"Yes, and meant to ask him about it afterwards; but forgot, somehow." + +"Do you remember where we were--what we were passing--when he did +this?" + +"Not clearly. I was infernally ill just then. Why did he do it?" + +I was silent. + +"I suppose it had some meaning?" he went on. + +"Yes, it had. And excuse me when I say that I'm hanged if either you +or your Constant Readers shall know what that meaning was. My dear +fellow, you belong to a strong race--a race that has beaten us and +taken toll of us, and now carves 'Smith' and 'Thompson' and such names +upon our fathers' tombs. But there are some things you have not laid +hands on yet; secrets that we all know somehow, but never utter, even +among ourselves, nor allude to. If I told you what Billy Tredegar did +to-day, and why he did it, I tell you frankly your article would +make some thousands of Constant Readers open wide eyes over their +breakfast-cups. But you won't know. Why, after all, should I say +anything to spoil Cornwall's prospects as a health-resort?" + +My friend took this very quietly, merely observing that it was rather +late in the day to take sides against Hengist and Horsa. But he was +sorry, I could see, to lose his local colour. And as I looked down, +for the last time that night, upon Troy, this petition escaped me-- + +"O my country, if I keep your secrets, keep for me your heart!" + + + + +THE SPINSTER'S MAYING. + + "_The fields breathe sweet, the daisies kiss our feet, + Young lovers meet, old wives a-sunning sit; + In every street these tunes our ears do greet-- + Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-wee, to-witta-woo! + Spring, the sweet Spring_." + + +At two o'clock on May morning a fishing-boat, with a small row-boat in +tow, stole up the harbour between the lights of the vessels that lay +at anchor. She came on a soundless tide, with her sprit-mainsail +wide and drawing, and her foresail flapping idle; and although her +cuddy-top and gunwale glistened wet with a recent shower, the man who +steered her looked over his shoulder at the waning moon, and decided +that the dawn would be a fine one. A furlong below the Town Quay he +left the tiller and lowered sail: two furlongs above, he dropped +anchor: then, having made all ship-shape, he lit a pipe and pulled an +enormous watch from his fob. The vessels he had passed since entering +the harbour's mouth seemed one and all asleep. But a din of horns, +kettles, and tea-trays, and a wild tattoo of door-knockers, sounded +along the streets behind the stores and houses that lined the +water-side. Already the town-boys were ushering in the month of May. + +The man waited until the half-hour chimed over the 'long-shore roofs +from the church-tower up the hill; set his watch with care; and sat +down to wait for the sun. Upon the wooded cliff that faces the town +the birds were waking; and by-and-bye, from the three small quays came +the sound of voices laughing, and then a boat or two stealing out of +the shadow, each crowded with boys and maids. Before the dawn grew red +above the cliff where the birds sang, a dozen boats had gone by him on +their way up the river, the chatter and broken laughter returning down +its dim reaches long after the rowers had passed out of sight. + +For some moments longer he watched the broadening daylight, till the +sun, mounting above the cliff, blazed on the watch he had again pulled +out and now shut with a brisk snap. His round, shaven face, still +boyish in middle age, wore the shadow of a solemn responsibility. He +clambered out into the small boat astern, and, casting loose, pulled +towards a bright patch of colour in the grey shore wall: a blue +quay-door overhung with ivy. The upper windows of the cottage behind +it were draped with snowy muslin, and its walls, coated with recent +whitewash, shamed its neighbours to right and left. + +As the boat dropped under this blue quay-door, its upper flap opened +softly, and a voice as softly said-- + +"Thank you kindly, John. And how d'ye do this May morning?" + +"Charming," the man answered frankly. "Handsome weather 'tis, to be +sure." + +He looked up and smiled at her, like a lover. + +"I needn't to ask how _you_ be; for you'm looking sweet as blossom," +he went on. + +And yet the woman that smiled down on him was fifty years old at +least. Her hair, which usually lay in two flat bands, closely drawn +over the temples, had for this occasion been worked into waves +by curling-papers, and twisted in front of either ear, into that +particular ringlet locally called a kiss-me-quick. But it was streaked +with grey, and the pinched features wore the tint of pale ivory. + +"D'ye think you can clamber down the ladder, Sarah? The tide's fairly +high." + +"I'm afraid I'll be showing my ankles." + +"I was hoping so. Wunnerful ankles you've a-got, Sarah, and a +wunnerful cage o' teeth. Such extremities 'd well beseem a king's +daughter, all glorious within!" + +Sarah Blewitt pulled open the lower flap of the door and set her foot +on the ladder. She wore a white print gown beneath her cloak, and a +small bonnet of black straw decorated with sham cowslips. The cloak, +hitching for a moment on the ladder's side, revealed a beaded reticule +that hung from her waist, and clinked as she descended. + +"I reckon there's scarce an inch of paint left on my front door," she +observed, as the man steadied her with an arm round her waist, and +settled her comfortably in the stern-sheets. + +He unshipped his oars and began to pull. + +"Ay. I heard 'em whackin' the door with a deal o' tow-row. They was +going it like billy-O when I came past the Town Quay. But one mustn' +complain, May-mornin's." + +"I wasn' complaining," said the woman; "I was just remarking. How's +Maria?" + +"She's nicely, thank you." + +"And the children?" + +"Brave." + +"I've put up sixpennyworth of nicey in four packets--that's one +apiece--and I've written the name on each, for you to take home to +'em." + +She fumbled in her reticule and produced the packets. The +peppermint-drops and brandy-balls were wrapped in clean white paper, +and the names written in a thin Italian hand. John thanked her and +stowed them in his trousers pockets. + +"You'll give my love to Maria? I take it very kindly her letting you +come for me like this." + +"Oh, as for that--" began John, and broke off; "I don't call to mind +that ever I saw a more handsome morning for the time o' year." + +They had made this expedition together more than a score of times, and +always found the same difficulty in conversing. The boat moved easily +past the town, the jetties above it, and the vessels that lay off them +awaiting their cargoes; it turned the corner and glided by woods where +the larches were green, the sycamores dusted with bronze, the wild +cherry-trees white with blossom, and all voluble. Every little bird +seemed ready to burst his throat that morning with the deal he had to +say. But these two--the man especially--had nothing to say, yet ached +for words. + +"Nance Treweek's married," the woman managed to tell him at last. + +"I was thinking it likely, by the way she carried on last Maying." + +"That wasn' the man. She've kept company with two since him, and +mated with a fourth man altogether--quite a different sort, in the +commercial traveller line." + +"Did he wear a seal weskit?" + +"Well, he might have; but not to my knowledge. What makes you ask?" + +"Because I used to know a Johnny Fortnight that wore one in these +parts; and I thought it might be he, belike." + +"Jim had a greater gift o' speech than you can make pretence to," said +the woman abruptly. "I often wonder that of two twin-brothers one +should be so glib and t'other so mum-chance." + +"'Tis the Lord's ways," the man answered, resting on his oars. "Will +you be dabblin' your feet as usual, Sarah?" + +"Why not?" + +He turned the boat's nose to a small landing-place cut in the solid +rock, where a straight pathway dived between hazel-bushes and appeared +again twenty feet above, winding inland around the knap of a green +hill. Here he helped her to disembark, and waited with his back to +the shore. The spinster behind the hazel screen pulled off shoes and +stockings, and paddled about for a minute in the dewy grass that +fringed the meadow's lower slope. Then, drawing a saucer from her +reticule, she wrung some dew into it and bathed her face. Ten minutes +later she re-appeared on the river's bank. + +"A happy May, John!" + +"A happy May to _you_, Sarah!" + +John stepped out beside her, and making his boat fast, followed her +up the narrow path and around the shoulder of the steep meadow. They +overed a stile, then a second, and were among pink slopes of orchards +in bloom. Ahead of them a church tower rose out of soft billows of +apple-blossom, and above the tower a lark was singing. A child +came along the footpath from the village with two garlands mounted +cross-wise on a pole and looped together with strings of painted +birds' eggs. John gave him a penny for his show. + +"Here's luck to your lass!" said the wise child. + +Sarah was pleased, and added a second penny from her reticule. The boy +spat on it for luck, slipped it into his breeches pocket, and went on +his way skipping. + +They stood still and looked after him for some moments, out of pure +pleasure in his good humour; then descended among the orchards to the +village. Half-way up the street stood the inn, the Flowing Source, +with whitewashed front and fuchsia-trees that reached to the +first-floor windows; and before it a well enclosed with a round stone +wall, over which the toadflax spread in a tangle. Around the well, +in the sunshine, were set a dozen or more small tables, covered with +white cloths, and two score at least of young people eating bread and +cream and laughing. The landlady, a broad woman in a blue print gown, +and large apron, came forward. + +"Why, Miss Sarah, I'd nigh 'pon given you up. Your table's been spread +this hour, an' at last I was forced to ask some o' the young folks if +you was dead or no." + +"Why should I be dead more than another?" + +"Well, well--in the midst o' life, we're told. 'Tisn' only the ripe +apples that the wind scatters. He that comes by your side to-day is +but twin-brother to him that came wi' you the first time I mind 'ee, +seemin' but yesterday. Eh, Miss Sarah, but I envied 'ee then, sittin' +wi' hand in hand, an' but one bite taken out o' your bread an' cream; +but I was just husband-high myself i' those days, an' couldn't make +the men believe it." + +"Mary Ann Jacobs," Miss Sarah broke out, "if 'twas not for the quality +of your cream, I'd go a-mayin' elsewhere, for I can truly say I hate +your way of talkin' from the bottom of my soul." + +"Sarah," said John, wiping his mouth as he finished his bread and +cream, "I'm a glum man, as you well know; an' why Providence drowned +poor Jim, when it might have taken his twin image that hadn' half his +mouth--speech, is past findin' out. But 'tis generally allowed that +the grip o' my hand is uncommon like what Jim's used to be; an' when I +gets home to-night, the first thing my old woman'll be sure to ask is +'Did 'ee give Sarah poor Jim's hand-clasp?'--an' what to say I shan't +know, unless you honours me so far." + +"'Tis uncommon good of Maria," said the woman simply, and stole her +thin hand into his horny palm. She had done so, in answer to the same +speech, more than twenty times. + +"Not at all," said John. + +His fingers closed over hers, and rested so. All but a few of the +mayers had risen from the table, and were romping and chasing each +other back to the boats, for the majority were shop-girls and +apprentices, and must be back in time for business. But Miss Sarah was +in no hurry. + +"Not yet," she entreated, as John's grasp began to relax. He tightened +it again and waited, while she leant back, breathing short, with +half-closed eyes. + +At length she said he might release her. + +"I'm sure 'tis uncommon kind of Maria," she repeated. + +"I don't see where the kindness comes in. Maria can have as good any +day o' the year, an' don't appear to value it to that extent." + +They walked back through the orchards in silence. At Miss Sarah's +quay-door they parted, and John hoisted sail for his home around the +corner of the coast. + + + + +DAPHNIS. + + _Has olim exuvias mihi perfidus ille reliquit, + Pignora cara sui: quae nunc ego limine in ipso, + Terra, tibi mando; debent haec pignora Daphnin-- + Ducite ab urbe domum, mea, carmina, ducite Daphnin_. + + +I knew the superstition lingered along the country-side: and I was +sworn to find it. But the labourers and their wives smoothed all +intelligence out of their faces as soon as I began to hint at it. Such +is the way of them. They were my good friends, but had no mind to help +me in this. Nobody who has not lived long with them can divine the +number of small incommunicable mysteries and racial secrets chambered +in their inner hearts and guarded by their hospitable faces. These +alone the Celt withholds from the Saxon, and when he dies they are +buried with him. + +A chance word or two of my old nurse, by chance caught in some cranny +of a child's memory and recovered after many days, told me that the +charm was still practised by the woman-folk, or had been practised not +long before her death. So I began to hunt for it, and, almost as soon, +to believe the search hopeless. The new generation of girls, with +their smart frocks, in fashion not more than six months behind London, +their Board School notions, and their consuming ambition to "look +like a lady"--were these likely to cherish a local custom as rude and +primitive as the long-stone circles on the tors above? But they were +Cornish; and of that race it is unwise to judge rashly. For years I +had never a clue: and then, by Sheba Farm, in a forsaken angle of the +coast, surprised the secret. + +Sheba Farm stands high above Ruan sands, over which its windows flame +at sunset. And I sat in the farm kitchen drinking cider and eating +potato-cake, while the farmer's wife, Mrs. Bolverson, obligingly +attended to my coat, which had just been soaked by a thunder-shower. +It was August, and already the sun beat out again, fierce and strong. +The bright drops that gemmed the tamarisk-bushes above the wall of the +town-place were already fading under its heat; and I heard the voices +of the harvesters up the lane, as they returned to the oat-field +whence the storm had routed them. A bright parallelogram stretched +from the window across the white kitchen-table, and reached the dim +hollow of the open fire-place. Mrs. Bolverson drew the towel-horse, on +which my coat was stretched, between it and the wood fire, which (as +she held) the sunshine would put out. + +"It's uncommonly kind of you, Mrs. Bolverson," said I, as she turned +one sleeve of the coat towards the heat. "To be sure, if the women in +these parts would speak out, some of them have done more than that for +the men with an old coat." + +She dropped the sleeve, faced round, and eyed me. + +"What do you know of that?" she asked slowly, and as if her chest +tightened over the words. She was a woman of fifty and more, of fine +figure but a worn face. Her chief surviving beauty was a pile of light +golden hair, still lustrous as a girl's. But her blue eyes--though now +they narrowed on me suspiciously--must have looked out magnificently +in their day. + +"I fancy," said I, meeting them frankly enough, "that what you know +and I don't on that matter would make a good deal." + +She laughed harshly, almost savagely. + +"You'd better ask Sarah Gedye, across the coombe. She buried a man's +clothes one time, and--it might be worth your while to ask her what +came o't." + +If you can imagine a glint of moonlight running up the blade of +a rapier, you may know the chill flame of spite and despite that +flickered in her eyes then as she spoke. + +"I take my oath," I muttered to myself, "I'll act on the invitation." + +The woman stood straight upright, with her hands clasped behind her, +before the deal table. She gazed, under lowered brows, straight out of +window; and following that gaze, I saw across the coombe a mean +mud hut, with a wall around it, that looked on Sheba Farm with the +obtrusive humility of a poor relation. + +"Does she--does Sarah Gedye--live down yonder?" + +"What is that to you?" she enquired fiercely, and then was silent for +a moment, and added, with another short laugh-- + +"I reckon I'd like the question put to her: but I doubt you've got the +pluck." + +"You shall see," said I; and taking my coat off the towel-horse, I +slipped it on. + +She did not turn, did not even move her head, when I thanked her for +the shelter and walked out of the house. + +I could feel those steel-blue eyes working like gimlets into my back +as I strode down the hill and passed the wooden plank that lay across +the stream at its foot. A climb of less than a minute brought me to +the green gate in the wall of Sarah Gedye's garden patch; and here I +took a look backwards and upwards at Sheba. The sun lay warm on its +white walls, and the whole building shone against the burnt hillside. +It was too far away for me to spy Mrs. Bolverson's blue print gown +within the kitchen window, but I knew that she stood there yet. + +The sound of a footstep made me turn. A woman was coming round the +corner of the cottage, with a bundle of mint in her hand. + +She looked at me, shook off a bee that had blundered against her +apron, and looked at me again--a brown woman, lean and strongly made, +with jet-black eyes set deep and glistening in an ugly face. + +"You want to know your way?" she asked. + +"No. I came to see you, if your name is Sarah Gedye." + +"Sarah Ann Gedye is my name. What 'st want?" + +I took a sudden resolution to tell the exact truth. + +"Mrs. Gedye, the fact is I am curious about an old charm that was +practised in these parts, as I know, till recently. The charm is +this--When a woman guesses her lover to be faithless to her, she +buries a suit of his old clothes to fetch him back to her. Mrs. +Bolverson, up at Sheba yonder--" + +The old woman had opened her mouth (as I know now) to curse me. But +as Mrs. Bolverson's name escaped me, she turned her back, and walked +straight to her door and into the kitchen. Her manner told me that I +was expected to follow. + +But I was not prepared for the face she turned on me in the shadow of +the kitchen. It was grey as wood-ash, and the black eyes shrank into +it like hot specks of fire. + +"She--_she_ set you on to ask me that?" She caught me by the coat and +hissed out: "Come back from the door--don't let her see." Then she +lifted up her fist, with the mint tightly clutched in it, and shook it +at the warm patch of Sheba buildings across the valley. + +"May God burn her bones, as He has smitten her body barren!" + +"What do you know of this?" she cried, turning upon me again. + +"I know nothing. That I have offered you some insult is clear: but--" + +"Nay, you don't know--you don't know. No man would be such a hound. +You don't know; but, by the Lord, you shall hear, here where you'm +standin', an' shall jedge betwix' me an' that pale 'ooman up yonder. +Stand there an' list to me. + +"He was my lover more'n five-an'-thirty years agone. Who? That +'ooman's wedded man, Seth Bolverson. We warn't married"--this with +a short laugh. "Wife or less than wife, he found me to his mind. +She--she that egged you on to come an' flout me--was a pale-haired +girl o' seventeen or so i' those times--a church-goin' mincin' strip +of a girl--the sort you men-folk bow the knee to for saints. Her +father owned Sheba Farm, an' she look'd across on my man, an' had envy +on 'en, an' set her eyes to draw 'en. Oh, a saint she was! An' he, the +poor shammick, went. 'Twas a good girl, you understand, that wished +for to marry an' reform 'en. She had money, too. _I_? I'd ha' poured +out my blood for 'en: that's all I cud do. So he went. + +"As the place shines this day, it shone then. Like a moth it drew 'en. +Late o' summer evenin's its windeys shone when down below here 'twas +chill i' the hill's shadow. An' late at night the candles burned up +there as he courted her. Purity and cosiness, you understand, an' down +here--he forgot about down here. Before he'd missed to speak to me for +a month, I'd hear 'en whistlin' up the hill, so merry as a grig. Well, +he married her. + +"They was married three months, an' 'twas harvest time come round, an' +I in his vield a-gleanin'. For I was suffered near to that extent, +seem' that the cottage here had been my fathers', an' was mine, an' +out o't they culdn' turn me. One o' the hands, as they was pitchin', +passes me an empty keg, an' says, 'Run you to the farm-place an' get +it filled.' So with it I went to th' kitchen, and while I waited +outside I sees his coat an' wesket 'pon a peg i' the passage. Well I +knew the coat; an' a madness takin' me for all my loss, I unhitched it +an' flung it behind the door, an', the keg bein' filled, picked it up +agen and ran down home-along. + +"No thought had I but to win Seth back. 'Twas the charm you spoke +about: an' that same midnight I delved a hole by the dreshold an' +buried the coat, whisperin', '_Man, come back, come back to me_!' as +Aun' Lesnewth had a-taught me, times afore. + +"But she, the pale woman, had a-seen me, dro' a chink o' the +parlour-door, as I tuk the coat down. An' she knowed what I tuk it +for. I've a-read it, times and again, in her wifely eyes; an' to-day +you yoursel' are witness that she knowed. If Seth knowed--" + +She clenched and unclenched her fist, and went on rapidly. + +"Early next mornin', and a'most afore I was dressed, two constables +came in by the gate, an' she behind 'em treadin' delicately, an' _he_ +at her back, wi' his chin dropped. They charged me wi' stealin' that +coat--wi' stealin' it--that coat that I'd a-darned an' patched years +afore ever _she_ cuddled against its sleeve!" + +"What happened?" I asked, as her voice sank and halted. + +"What happened? She looked me i' the eyes scornfully; an' her own were +full o' knowledge. An' wi' her eyes she coaxed and dared me to abase +mysel' an' speak the truth an' win off jail. An' I, that had stole +nowt, looked back at her an' said, 'It's true. I stole the coat. Now +cart me off to jail; but handle me gently for the sake o' my child +unborn.' When I spoke these last two words an' saw her face draw up +wi' the bitterness o' their taste, I held out my wrists and clapped +the handcuffs together like cymbals and laughed wi' a glad heart." + +She caught my hand suddenly, and drawing me to the porch, pointed high +above Sheba, to the yellow upland where the harvesters moved. + +"Do 'ee see 'en there?--that tall young man by the hedge--there where +the slope dips? That's my son, Seth's son, the straightest man among +all. Neither spot has he, nor wart, nor blemish 'pon his body; and +when she pays 'en his wages, Saturday evenin's, he says 'Thank 'ee, +ma'am,' wi' a voice that's the very daps o' his father's. An' she's +childless. Ah, childless woman! Childless woman! Go back an' carry +word to her o' the prayer I've spoken upon her childlessness." + +And "Childless woman!" "Childless woman!" she called twice again, +shaking her fist at the windows of Sheba Farm-house, that blazed back +angrily against the westering sun. + + + + +WHEN THE SAP ROSE. + +A FANTASIA. + + +An old yellow van--the _Comet_--came jolting along the edge of the +downs and shaking its occupants together like peas in a bladder. The +bride and bridegroom did not mind this much; but the Registrar of +Births, Deaths, and Marriages, who had bound them in wedlock at the +Bible Christian Chapel two hours before, was discomforted by a pair +of tight boots, that nipped cruelly whenever he stuck out his feet to +keep his equilibrium. + +Nevertheless, his mood was genial, for the young people had taken his +suggestion and acquired a copy of their certificate. This meant five +extra shillings in his pocket. Therefore, when the van drew up at +the cross-roads for him to alight, he wished them long life and a +multitude of children with quite a fatherly air. + +"You can't guess where I'm bound for. It's to pay my old mother a +visit. Ah, family life's the pretty life--that ever _I_ should say +it!" + +They saw no reason why he should be cynical, more than other men. And +the bride, in whose eyes this elderly gentleman with the tight boots +appeared a rosy winged Cupid, waved her handkerchief until the vehicle +had sidled round the hill, resembling in its progress a very infirm +crab in a hurry. + +As a fact, the Registrar wore a silk hat, a suit of black +West-of-England broadcloth, a watch-chain made out of his dead wife's +hair, and two large seals that clashed together when he moved. +His face was wide and round, with a sanguine complexion, grey +side-whiskers, and a cicatrix across the chin. He had shaved in a +hurry that morning, for the wedding was early, and took place on the +extreme verge of his district. His is a beautiful office--recording +day by day the solemnest and most mysterious events in nature. Yet, +standing at the cross-roads, between down and woodland, under an April +sky full of sun and south-west wind, he threw the ugliest shadow in +the landscape. + +The road towards the coast dipped--too steeply for tight boots--down a +wooded coombe, and he followed it, treading delicately. The hollow of +the V ahead, where the hills overlapped against the pale blue, was +powdered with a faint brown bloom, soon to be green--an infinity +of bursting buds. The larches stretched their arms upwards, as men +waking. The yellow was out on the gorse, with a heady scent like a +pineapple's, and between the bushes spread the grey film of coming +blue-bells. High up, the pines sighed along the ridge, turning paler; +and far down, where the brook ran, a mad duet was going on between +thrush and chaffinch--"_Cheer up, cheer up, Queen!" "Clip clip, clip, +and kiss me--Sweet_!"--one against the other. + +Now, the behaviour of the Registrar of Births, Deaths, and Marriages +changed as he descended the valley. At first he went from side to +side, because the loose stones were sharp and lay unevenly; soon he +zig-zagged for another purpose--to peer into the bank for violets, to +find a gap between the trees where, by bending down with a hand +on each knee and his head tilted back, he could see the primroses +stretching in broad sheets to the very edge of the pine-woods. By +frequent tilting his collar broke from its stud and his silk hat +settled far back on his neck. Next he unbuttoned his waistcoat and +loosened his braces; but no, he could not skip--his boots were too +tight. He looked at each tree as he passed. "If I could only see"--he +muttered. "I'll swear there used to be one on the right, just here." + +But he could not find it here--perhaps his memory misgave him--and +presently turned with decision, climbed the low fence on his left, +between him and the hollow of the coombe, and dropped into the +plantation on the other side. Here the ground was white in patches +with anemones; and as his feet crushed them, descending, the babel of +the birds grew louder and louder. + +He issued on a small clearing by the edge of the brook, where the +grass was a delicate green, each blade pushing up straight as a +spear-point from the crumbled earth. Here were more anemones, between +patches of last year's bracken, and on the further slope a mass of +daffodils. He pulled out a pocket-knife that had sharpened some +hundreds of quill pens, and looking to his right, found what he wanted +at once. + +It was a sycamore, on which the buds were swelling. He cut a small +twig, as big round as his middle finger, and sitting himself down on a +barked log, close by, began to measure and cut it to a span's length, +avoiding all knots. Then, taking the knife by the blade between finger +and thumb, he tapped the bark gently with the tortoise-shell handle. +And as he tapped, his face went back to boyhood again, in spite of the +side-whiskers, and his mouth was pursed up to a silent tune. + +For ten minutes the tapping continued; the birds ceased their +contention, and broke out restlessly at intervals. A rabbit across +the brook paused and listened at the funnel-shaped mouth of his hole, +which caught the sound and redoubled it. + +"Confound these boots!" said the Registrar, and pulling them off, +tossed them among the primroses. They were "elastic-sides." + +The tapping ceased. A breath of the land-ward breeze came up, combing +out the tangle that winter had made in the grass, caught the brook on +the edge of a tiny fall, and puffed it back six inches in a spray of +small diamonds. It quickened the whole copse. The oak-saplings rubbed +their old leaves one on another, as folks rub their hands, feeling +life and warmth; the chestnut-buds groped like an infant's fingers; +and the chorus broke out again, the thrush leading--"_Tiurru, tiurru, +chippewee; tio-tee, tio-tee; queen, queen, que-een_!" + +In a moment or two he broke off suddenly, and a honey-bee shot out +of an anemone-bell like a shell from a mortar. For a new sound +disconcerted them--a sound sharp and piercing. The Registrar had +finished his whistle and was blowing like mad, moving his fingers +up and down. Having proved his instrument, he dived a hand into his +tail-pocket and drew out a roll, tied around with ribbon. It was the +folded leather-bound volume in which he kept his blank certificates. +And spreading it on his knees, he took his whistle again and blew, +reading his music from the blank pages, and piping a strain he had +never dreamed of. For he whistled of Births and Marriages. + +O, happy Registrar! O, happy, happy Registrar! You will never get into +those elastic-sides again. Your feet swell as they tap the swelling +earth, and at each tap the flowers push, the sap climbs, the speck of +life moves in the hedge-sparrow's egg; while, far away on the downs, +with each tap, the yellow van takes bride and groom a foot nearer +felicity. It is hard work in worsted socks, for you smite with the +vehemence of Pan, and Pan had a hoof of horn. + + * * * * * + +The Registrar's mother lived in the fishing-village, two miles down +the coombe. Her cottage leant back against the cliff so closely, that +the boys, as they followed the path above, could toss tabs of turf +down her chimney: and this was her chief annoyance. + +Now, it was close on the dinner-hour, and she stood in her kitchen +beside a pot of stew that simmered over the wreck-wood fire. + +Suddenly a great lump of earth and grass came bouncing down the +chimney, striking from side to side, and soused into the pot, +scattering the hot stew over the hearth-stone and splashing her from +head to foot. + +Quick as thought, she caught up a besom and rushed out around the +corner of the cottage. + +"You stinking young adders!" she began. + +A big man stood on the slope above her. + +"Mother, cuff my head, that's a dear. I couldn' help doin' it." + +It was the elderly Registrar. His hat, collar, tie, and waistcoat were +awry; his boots were slung on the walking-stick over his shoulder; +stuck in his mouth and lit was a twist of root-fibre, such as country +boys use for lack of cigars, and he himself had used, forty years +before. + +The old woman turned to an ash-colour, leant on her besom, and gasped. + +"William Henry!" + +"I'm not drunk, mother: been a Band of Hope these dozen years." He +stepped down the slope to her and bent his head low. "Box my ears, +mother, quick! You used to have a wonderful gift o' cuffin'." + +"William Henry, I'm bound to do it or die." + +"Then be quick about it." + +Half-laughing, half-sobbing, she caught him a feeble cuff, and next +instant held him close to her old breast. The Registrar disengaged +himself after a minute, brushed his eyes, straightened his hat, picked +up the besom, and offered her his arm. They passed into the cottage +together. + + + + +THE PAUPERS + + +I. + +[Greek: ou men gar tou ge kreisson kai areion, ae hoth homophroneonte +noaemasin oikon echaeton anaer aede gunae.] + + +Round the skirts of the plantation, and half-way down the hill, there +runs a thick fringe of wild cherry-trees. Their white blossom makes, +for three weeks in the year, a pretty contrast with the larches and +Scotch firs that serrate the long ridge above; and close under their +branches runs the line of oak rails that marks off the plantation from +the meadow. + +A labouring man came deliberately round the slope, as if following +this line of rails. As a matter of fact, he was treading the +little-used footpath that here runs close alongside the fence for +fifty yards before diverging down-hill towards the village. So narrow +is this path that the man's boots were powdered to a rich gold by the +buttercups they had brushed aside. + +By-and-bye he came to a standstill, looked over the fence, and +listened. Up among the larches a faint chopping sound could just be +heard, irregular but persistent. The man put a hand to his mouth, and +hailed-- + +"Hi-i-i! Knock off! Stable clock's gone noo-oon!" + +Came back no answer. But the chopping ceased at once; and this +apparently satisfied the man, who leaned against the rail and waited, +chewing a spear of brome-grass, and staring steadily, but incuriously, +at his boots. Two minutes passed without stir or sound in this corner +of the land. The human figure was motionless. The birds in the +plantation were taking their noonday siesta. A brown butterfly rested, +with spread wings, on the rail--so quietly, he might have been pinned +there. + +A cracked voice was suddenly lifted a dozen yards off, and within the +plantation-- + +"Such a man as I be to work! Never heard a note o' that blessed clock, +if you'll believe me. Ab-sorbed, I s'pose." + +A thin withered man in a smock-frock emerged from among the +cherry-trees with a bill-hook in his hand, and stooped to pass under +the rail. + +"Ewgh! The pains I suffer in that old back of mine you'll never +believe, my son, not till the appointed time when you come to suffer +'em yoursel'. Well-a-well! Says I just now, up among the larches, +'Heigh, my sonny-boys, I can crow over you, anyways; for I was a man +grown when Squire planted ye; and here I be, a lusty gaffer, markin' +ye down for destruction.' But hullo! where's the dinner?" + +"There bain't none." + +"Hey?" + +"There bain't none." + +"How's that? Damme! William Henry, dinner's dinner, an' don't you joke +about it. Once you begin to make fun o' sacred things like meals and +vittles--" + +"And don't you flare up like that, at your time o' life. We're +fashionists to-day: dining out. 'Quarter after nine this morning I was +passing by the Green wi' the straw-cart, when old Jan Trueman calls +after me, 'Have 'ee heard the news?'' What news?' says I. 'Why,' says +he, 'me an' my missus be going into the House this afternoon--can't +manage to pull along by ourselves any more,' he says; 'an' we wants +you an' your father to drop in soon after noon an' take a bite wi' us, +for old times' sake. 'Tis our last taste o' free life, and we'm going +to do the thing fittywise,' he says." + +The old man bent a meditative look on the village roofs below. + +"We'll pleasure 'en, of course," he said slowly. "So 'tis come round +to Jan's turn? But a' was born in the year of Waterloo victory, ten +year' afore me, so I s'pose he've kept his doom off longer than most." + +The two set off down the footpath. There is a stile at the foot of the +meadow, and as he climbed it painfully, the old man spoke again. + +"And his doorway, I reckon, 'll be locked for a little while, an' then +opened by strangers; an' his nimble youth be forgot like a flower o' +the field; an' fare thee well, Jan Trueman! Maria, too--I can mind her +well as a nursing mother--a comely woman in her day. I'd no notion +they'd got this in their mind." + +"Far as I can gather, they've been minded that way ever since their +daughter Jane died, last fall." + +From the stile where they stood they could look down into the village +street. And old Jan Trueman was plain to see, in clean linen and his +Sunday suit, standing in the doorway and welcoming his guests. + +"Come ye in--come ye in, good friends," he called, as they approached. +"There's cold bekkon, an' cold sheep's liver, an' Dutch cheese, +besides bread, an' a thimble-full o' gin-an'-water for every soul +among ye, to make it a day of note in the parish." + +He looked back over his shoulder into the kitchen. A dozen men and +women, all elderly, were already gathered there. They had brought +their own chairs. Jan's wife wore her bonnet and shawl, ready to start +at a moment's notice. Her luggage in a blue handkerchief lay on the +table. As she moved about and supplied her guests, her old lips +twitched nervously; but when she spoke it was with no unusual tremor +of the voice. + +"I wish, friends, I could ha' cooked ye a little something hot; but +there'd be no time for the washing-up, an' I've ordained to leave the +place tidy." + +One of the old women answered-- + +"There's nought to be pardoned, I'm sure. Never do I mind such a gay +set-off for the journey. For the gin-an'-water is a little addition +beyond experience. The vittles, no doubt, you begged up at the +Vicarage, sayin' you'd been a peck o' trouble to the family, but this +was going to be the last time." + +"I did, I did," assented Mr. Trueman. + +"But the gin-an'-water--how on airth you contrived it is a riddle!" + +The old man rubbed his hands together and looked around with genuine +pride. + +"There was old Miss Scantlebury," said another guest, a smock-frocked +gaffer of seventy, with a grizzled shock of hair. "You remember Miss +Scantlebury?" + +"O' course, o' course." + +"Well, she did it better 'n anybody I've heard tell of. When she fell +into redooced circumstances she sold the eight-day clock that was the +only thing o' value she had left. Brown o' Tregarrick made it, with +a very curious brass dial, whereon he carved a full-rigged ship that +rocked like a cradle, an' went down stern foremost when the hour +struck. 'Twas worth walking a mile to see. Brown's grandson bought +it off Miss Scantlebury for two guineas, he being proud of his +grandfather's skill; an' the old lady drove into Tregarrick Work'us +behind a pair o' greys wi' the proceeds. Over and above the carriage +hire, she'd enough left to adorn the horse wi' white favours an' give +the rider a crown, large as my lord. Aye, an' at the Work'us door she +said to the fellow, said she, 'All my life I've longed to ride in a +bridal chariot; an' though my only lover died of a decline when I was +scarce twenty-two, I've done it at last,' said she; 'an' now heaven +an' airth can't undo it!'" + +A heavy silence followed this anecdote, and then one or two of the +women vented small disapproving coughs. The reason was the speaker's +loud mention of the Workhouse. A week, a day, a few-hours before, its +name might have been spoken in Mr. and Mrs. Trueman's presence. But +now they had entered its shadow; they were "going"--whether to the dim +vale of Avilion, or with chariot and horses of fire to heaven, let +nobody too curiously ask. If Mr. and Mrs. Trueman chose to speak +definitely, it was another matter. + +Old Jan bore no malice, however, but answered, "That beats me, I own. +Yet we shall drive, though it be upon two wheels an' behind a single +horse. For Farmer Lear's driving into Tregarrick in an hour's time, +an' he've a-promised us a lift." + +"But about that gin-an'-water? For real gin-an'-water it is, to sight +an' taste." + +"Well, friends, I'll tell ye: for the trick may serve one of ye in the +days when you come to follow me, tho' the new relieving officer may +have learnt wisdom before then. You must know we've been considering +of this step for some while, but hearing that old Jacobs was going to +retire soon, I says to Maria, 'We'll bide till the new officer comes, +and if he's a green hand, we'll diddle 'en.' Day before yesterday,' as +you, was his first round at the work; so I goes up an' draws out my +ha'af-crown same as usual, an' walks straight off for the Four Lords +for a ha'af-crown's worth o' gin. Then back I goes, an' demands +an admission order for me an' the missus. 'Why, where's your +ha'af-crown?' says he. 'Gone in drink,' says I. 'Old man,' says he, +'you'm a scandal, an' the sooner you're put out o' the way o' drink, +the better for you an' your poor wife.' 'Right you are,' I says; an' I +got my order. But there, I'm wasting time; for to be sure you've most +of ye got kith and kin in the place where we'm going, and 'll be +wanting to send 'em a word by us." + + * * * * * + +It was less than an hour before Farmer Lear pulled up to the door in +his red-wheeled spring-cart. + +"Now, friends," said Mrs. Trueman, as her ears caught the rattle of +the wheels, "I must trouble ye to step outside while I tidy up the +floor." + +The women offered their help, but she declined it. Alone she put the +small kitchen to rights, while they waited outside around the door. +Then she stepped out with her bundle, locked the door after her, and +slipped the key under an old flower-pot on the window ledge. Her eyes +were dry. + +"Come along, Jan." + +There was a brief hand-shaking, and the paupers climbed up beside +Farmer Lear. + +"I've made a sort o' little plan in my head," said old Jan at parting, +"of the order in which I shall see ye again, one by one. 'Twill be a +great amusement to me, friends, to see how the fact fits in wi' my +little plan." + +The guests raised three feeble cheers as the cart drove away, and hung +about for several minutes after it had passed out of sight, gazing +along the road as wistfully as more prosperous men look in through +churchyard gates at the acres where their kinsfolk lie buried. + + +II. + + +The first building passed by the westerly road as it descends into +Tregarrick is a sombre pile of some eminence, having a gateway and +lodge before it, and a high encircling wall. The sun lay warm on its +long roof, and the slates flashed gaily there, as Farmer Lear came +over the knap of the hill and looked down on it. He withdrew his eyes +nervously to glance at the old couple beside him. At the same moment +he reined up his dun-coloured mare. + +"I reckoned," he said timidly, "I reckoned you'd be for stopping +hereabouts an' getting down. You'd think it more seemly--that's what I +reckoned: an' 'tis down-hill now all the way." + +For ten seconds and more neither the man nor the woman gave a sign of +having heard him. The spring-cart's oscillatory motion seemed to have +entered into their spinal joints; and now that they had come to +a halt, their heads continued to wag forward and back as they +contemplated the haze of smoke spread, like a blue scarf over the +town, and the one long slate roof that rose from it as if to meet +them. At length the old woman spoke, and with some viciousness, though +her face remained as blank as the Workhouse door. + +"The next time I go back up this hill, if ever I do, I'll be carried +up feet first." + +"Maria," said her husband, feebly reproachful, "you tempt the Lord, +that you do." + +"Thank 'ee, Farmer Lear," she went on, paying no heed; "you shall +help us down, if you've a mind to, an' drive on. We'll make shift to +trickly 'way down so far as the gate; for I'd be main vexed if anybody +that had known me in life should see us creep in. Come along, Jan." + +Farmer Lear alighted, and helped them out carefully. He was a clumsy +man, but did his best to handle them gently. When they were set on +their feet, side by side on the high road, he climbed back, and fell +to arranging the reins, while he cast about for something to say. + +"Well, folks, I s'pose I must be wishing 'ee good-bye." He meant +to speak cheerfully, but over-acted, and was hilarious instead. +Recognising this, he blushed. + +"We'll meet in heaven, I daresay," the woman answered. "I put +the door-key, as you saw, under the empty geranium-pot 'pon the +window-ledge; an' whoever the new tenant's wife may be, she can eat +off the floor if she's minded. Now drive along, that's a good soul, +and leave us to fend for ourselves." + +They watched him out of sight before either stirred. The last decisive +step, the step across the Workhouse threshold, must be taken with none +to witness. If they could not pass out of their small world by the +more reputable mode of dying, they would at least depart with this +amount of mystery. They had left the village in Farmer Lear's cart, +and Farmer Lear had left them in the high road; and after that, +nothing should be known. + +"Shall we be moving on?" Jan asked at length. There was a gate beside +the road just there, with a small triangle of green before it, and +a granite roller half-buried in dock-leaves. Without answering, the +woman seated herself on this, and pulling a handful of the leaves, +dusted her shoes and skirt. + +"Maria, you'll take a chill that'll carry you off, sitting 'pon that +cold stone." + +"I don't care. 'Twon't carry me off afore I get inside, an' I'm going +in decent, or not at all. Come here, an' let me tittivate you." + +He sat down beside her, and submitted to be dusted. + +"You'd as lief lower me as not in their eyes, I verily believe." + +"I always was one to gather dust." + +"An' a fresh spot o' bacon-fat 'pon your weskit, that I've kept the +moths from since goodness knows when!" + +Old Jan looked down over his waistcoat. It was of good +"West-of-England broadcloth, and he had worn it on the day when he +married the woman at his side. + +"I'm thinking--" he began. + +"Hey?" + +"I'm thinking I'll find it hard to make friends in--in there. 'Tis +such a pity, to my thinking, that by reggilations we'll be parted so +soon as we get inside. You've a-got so used to my little ways +an' corners, an' we've a-got so many little secrets together an' +old-fash'ned odds an' ends o' knowledge, that you can take my meaning +almost afore I start to speak. An' that's a great comfort to a man o' +my age. It'll be terrible hard, when I wants to talk, to begin at the +beginning every time. There's that old yarn o' mine about Hambly's cow +an' the lawn-mowing machine--I doubt that anybody 'll enjoy it so +much as you always do; an' I've so got out o' the way o' telling the +beginning--which bain't extra funny, though needful to a stranger's +understanding the whole joke--that I 'most forgets how it goes." + +"We'll see one another now an' then, they tell me. The sexes meet for +Chris'mas-trees an' such-like." + +"I'm jealous that 'twon't be the same. You can't hold your triflin' +confabs with a great Chris'mas-tree blazin' away in your face as +important as a town afire." + +"Well, I'm going to start along," the old woman decided, getting on +her feet; "or else someone 'll be driving by and seeing us." + +Jan, too, stood up. + +"We may so well make our congees here," she went on, "as under the +porter's nose." + +An awkward silence fell between them for a minute, and these two old +creatures, who for more than fifty years had felt no constraint in +each other's presence, now looked into each other's eyes with a +fearful diffidence. Jan cleared his throat, much as if he had to make +a public speech. + +"Maria," he began in an unnatural voice, "we're bound for to part, and +I can trewly swear, on leaving ye, that--" + +"--that for two-score year and twelve It's never entered your head to +consider whether I've made 'ee a good wife or a bad. Kiss me, my old +man; for I tell 'ee I wouldn' ha' wished it other. An' thank 'ee for +trying to make that speech. What did it feel like?" + +"Why, 't rather reminded me o' the time when I offered 'ee marriage." + +"It reminded me o' that, too. Com'st along." + +They tottered down the hill towards the Workhouse gate. When they were +but ten yards from it, however, they heard the sound of wheels on +the road behind them, and walked bravely past, pretending to have no +business at that portal. They had descended a good thirty yards +beyond (such haste was put into them by dread of having their purpose +guessed) before the vehicle overtook them--a four-wheeled dog-cart +carrying a commercial traveller, who pulled up and offered them a lift +into the town. + +They declined. + +Then, as soon as he passed out of sight, they turned, and began +painfully to climb back towards the gate. Of the two, the woman had +shown the less emotion. But all the way her lips were at work, and as +she went she was praying a prayer. It was the only one she used night +and morning, and she had never changed a word since she learned it as +a chit of a child. Down to her seventieth year she had never found it +absurd to beseech God to make her "a good girl"; nor did she find it +so as the Workhouse gate opened, and she began a new life. + + + + +CUCKOO VALLEY RAILWAY + + +This century was still young and ardent when ruin fell upon Cuckoo +Valley. Its head rested on the slope of a high and sombre moorland, +scattered with granite and china-clay; and by the small town of +Ponteglos, where it widened out into arable and grey pasture-land, the +Cuckoo river grew deep enough to float up vessels of small tonnage +from the coast at the spring tides. I have seen there the boom of +a trading schooner brush the grasses on the river-bank as she came +before a southerly wind, and the haymakers stop and almost crick their +necks staring up at her top-sails. But between the moors and Ponteglos +the valley wound for fourteen miles or so between secular woods, so +steeply converging that for the most part no more room was left at the +bottom of the V than the river itself filled. The fisherman beside it +trampled on pimpernels, sundew, watermint, and asphodels, or pushed +between clumps of _Osmunda regalis_ that overtopped him by a couple of +feet. If he took to wading, there was much ado to stand against the +current. Only here and there it spread into a still black pool, +greased with eddies; and beside such a pool, it was odds that he found +a diminutive meadow, green and flat as a billiard-table, and edged +with clumps of fern. To think of Cuckoo Valley is to call up the smell +of that fern as it wrapped at the bottom of the creel the day's catch +of salmon-peal and trout. + +The town of Tregarrick (which possessed a gaol, a workhouse, and a +lunatic asylum, and called itself the centre of the Duchy) stood +three miles back from the lip of this happy valley, whither on summer +evenings its burghers rambled to eat cream and junket at the Dairy +Farm by the river bank, and afterwards sit to watch the fish rise, +while the youngsters and maidens played hide-and-seek in the woods. +But there came a day when the names of Watt and Stephenson waxed great +in the land, and these slow citizens caught the railway frenzy. +They took it, however, in their own fashion. They never dreamed of +connecting themselves with other towns and a larger world, but of +aggrandisement by means of a railway that should run from Tregarrick +to nowhere in particular, and bring the intervening wealth to their +doors. They planned a railway that should join Tregarrick with Cuckoo +Valley, and there divide into two branches, the one bringing ore and +clay from the moors, the other fetching up sand and coal from the sea. +Surveyors and engineers descended upon the woods; then a cloud of +navvies. The days were filled with the crash of falling timber and the +rush of emptied trucks. The stream was polluted, the fish died, the +fairies were evicted from their rings beneath the oak, the morals of +the junketing houses underwent change. The vale knew itself no longer; +its smoke went up week by week with the noise of pick-axes and oaths. + +On August 13th, 1834, the Mayor of Tregarrick declared the new line +open, and a locomotive was run along its rails to Dunford Bridge, at +the foot of the moors. The engine was christened _The Wonder of the +Age_; and I have before me a handbill of the festivities of that proud +day, which tells me that the mayor himself rode in an open truck, +"embellished with Union Jacks, lions and unicorns, and other loyal +devices." And then Nature settled down to heal her wounds, and the +Cuckoo Yalley Railway to pay no dividend to its promoters. + +It is now two years and more since, on an August day, I wound up my +line by Dunford Bridge, and sauntered towards the Light Horseman Inn, +two gunshots up the road. The time was four o'clock, or thereabouts, +and a young couple sat on a bench by the inn-door, drinking cocoa out +of one cup. Above their heads and along the house-front a vine-tree +straggled, but its foliage was too thin to afford a speck of shade as +they sat there in the eye of the westering sun. The man (aged about +one-and-twenty) wore the uncomfortable Sunday-best of a mechanic, +with a shrivelled, but still enormous, bunch of Sweet-William in his +buttonhole. The girl was dressed in a bright green gown and a white +bonnet. Both were flushed and perspiring, and I still think they must +have ordered hot cocoa in haste, and were repenting it at leisure. +They lifted their eyes and blushed with a yet warmer red as I passed +into the porch. + +Two men were seated in the cool tap-room, each with a pasty and a mug +of beer. A composition of sweat and coal-dust had caked their faces, +and so deftly smoothed all distinction out of their features that +it seemed at the moment natural and proper to take them for twins. +Perhaps this was an error: perhaps, too, their appearance of extreme +age was produced by the dark grey dust that overlaid so much of them +as showed above the table. As twins, however, I remember them, and +cannot shake off the impression that they had remained twins for an +unusual number of years. + +One addressed me. "Parties outside pretty comfortable?" he asked. + +"They were drinking out of the same cup," I answered. + +He nodded. "Made man and wife this mornin'. I don't fairly know +what's best to do. Lord knows I wouldn' hurry their soft looks and +dilly-dallyin'; but did 'ee notice how much beverage was left in the +cup?" + +"They was mated at Tregarrick, half-after-nine this mornin'," observed +the other twin, pulling out a great watch, "and we brought 'em +down here in a truck for their honeymoon. The agreement was for an +afternoon in the woods; but by crum! sir, they've sat there and held +one another's hand for up'ards of an hour after the stated time to +start. And we ha'nt the heart to tell 'em so." + +He walked across to the window and peered over the blind. + +"There's a mort of grounds in the cocoa that's sold here," he went +on, after a look, "and 'tisn't the sort that does the stomach good, +neither. For their own sakes, I'll give the word to start, and chance +their thankin' me some day later when they learn what things be made +of." + +The other twin arose, shook the crumbs off his trousers, and stretched +himself. I guessed now that this newly-married pair had delayed +traffic at the Dunford terminus of the Cuckoo Valley Railway for +almost an hour and a half; and I determined to travel into Tregarrick +by the same train. + +So we strolled out of the inn towards the line, the lovers following, +arm-in-arm, some fifty paces behind. + +"How far is it to the station?" I inquired. + +The twins stared at me. + +Presently we turned down a lane scored with dry ruts, passed an oak +plantation, and came on a clearing where the train stood ready. The +line did not finish: it ended in a heap of sand. There were eight +trucks, seven of them laden with granite, and an engine, with a +prodigiously long funnel, bearing the name _The Wonder of the Age_ in +brass letters along its boiler. + +"Now," said one of the twins, while the other raked up the furnace, +"you can ride in the empty truck with the lovers, or on the engine +along with us--which you like." + +I chose the engine. We climbed on board, gave a loud whistle, and +jolted oil. Far down, on our right, the river shone between the +trees, and these trees, encroaching on the track, almost joined their +branches above us. Ahead, the moss that grew upon the sleepers gave +the line the appearance of a green glade, and the grasses, starred +with golden-rod and mallow, grew tall to the very edge of the rails. +It seemed that in a few more years Nature would cover this scar +of 1834, and score the return match against man. Hails, engine, +officials, were already no better than ghosts: youth, and progress lay +in the pushing trees, the salmon leaping against the dam below, the +young man and maid sitting with clasped hands and amatory looks in the +hindmost truck. + +At the end of three miles or so we gave an alarming whistle, and +slowed down a bit. The trees were thinner here, and I saw that a +high-road came down the hill, and cut across our track some fifty +yards ahead. We prepared to cross it cautiously. + +"Ho-o-oy! Stop!" + +The brake was applied, and as we came to a standstill a party of men +and women descended the hill towards us. + +"'Tis Susan Warne's seventh goin' to be christen'd, by the look of +it," said the engine-driver beside me; "an', by crum! we've got the +Kimbly." + +The procession advanced. In the midst walked a stout woman, carrying a +baby in long clothes, and in front a man bearing in both hands a plate +covered with a white cloth. He stepped up beside the train, and, +almost before I had time to be astonished, a large yellow cake was +thrust into my hands. Engine-driver and stoker were also presented +with a cake apiece, and then the newly-married pair, who took and ate +with some shyness and giggling. + +"Is it a boy or a girl?" asked the stoker, with his mouth full. + +"A boy," the man answered; "and I count it good luck that you men of +modern ways should be the first we meet on our way to church. The +child 'll be a go-ahead if there's truth in omens." + +"You're right, naybour. We're the speediest men in this part of the +universe, I d' believe. Here's luck to 'ee, Susan Warne!" he piped +out, addressing one of the women; "an' if you want a name for your +seventh, you may christen 'en after the engine here, the _Wonder of +the Age_." + +We waved our hats and jolted off again towards Tregarrick. At the +end of the journey the railway officials declined to charge for +the pleasure of my company. But after some dispute, they agreed to +compromise by adjourning to the Railway Inn, and drinking prosperity +to Susan Warne's seventh. + + + + +THE CONSPIRACY ABOARD THE _MIDAS_. + + +"Are you going home to England? So am I. I'm Johnny; and I've never +been to England before, but I know all about it. There's great palaces +of gold and ivory--that's for the lords and bishops--and there's +Windsor Castle, the biggest of all, carved out of a single +diamond--that's for the queen. And she's the most beautiful lady in +the whole world, and feeds her peacocks and birds of paradise out of +a ruby cup. And there the sun is always shining, so that nobody wants +any candles. O, words would fail me if I endeavoured to convey to you +one-half of the splendours of that enchanted realm!" + +This last sentence tumbled so oddly from the childish lips, that I +could not hide a smile as I looked down on my visitor. He stood just +outside my cabin-door--a small serious boy of about eight, with long +flaxen curls hardly dry from his morning bath. In the pauses of +conversation he rubbed his head with a big bath-towel. His legs +and feet were bare, and he wore only a little shirt and velveteen +breeches, with scarlet ribbons hanging untied at the knees. + +"You're laughing!" + +I stifled the smile. + +"What were you laughing at?" + +"Why, you're wrong, little man, on just one or two points," I answered +evasively. + +"Which?" + +"Well, about the sunshine in England. The sun is not always shining +there, by any means." + +"I'm afraid you know very little about it," said the boy, shaking his +head. + +"Johnny! Johnny!" a voice called down the companion-ladder at this +moment. It was followed by a thin, weary-looking man, dressed in +carpet slippers and a suit of seedy black. I guessed his age at fifty, +but suspect now that the lines about his somewhat prim mouth were +traced there by sorrows rather than by years. He bowed to me shyly, +and addressed the boy. + +"Johnny, what are you doing here? in bare feet!" + +"Father, here is a man who says the sun doesn't always shine in +England." + +The man gave me a fleeting embarrassed glance, and echoed, as if to +shirk answering-- + +"In bare feet!" + +"But it does, doesn't it? Tell him that it does," the child insisted. + +Driven thus into a corner, the father turned his profile, avoiding my +eyes, and said dully-- + +"The sun is always shining in England." + +"Go on, father; tell him the rest." + +"--and the use of candles, except as a luxury, is consequently unknown +to the denizens of that favoured clime," he wound up, in the tone of a +man who repeats an old, old lecture. + +Johnny was turning to me triumphantly, when his father caught him by +the hand and led him back to his dressing. The movement was hasty, +almost rough. I stood at the cabin-door and looked after them. + +We were fellow-passengers aboard the _Midas_, a merchant barque of +near on a thousand tons, homeward bound from Cape Town; and we had +lost sight of the Table Mountain but a couple of days before. It was +the first week of the new year, and all day long a fiery sun made life +below deck insupportable. Nevertheless, though we three were the only +passengers on board, and lived constantly in sight of each other, it +was many days before I made any further acquaintance with Johnny and +his father. The sad-faced man clearly desired to avoid me, answering +my nod with a cold embarrassment, and clutching Johnny's hand whenever +the child called "Good-morning!" to me cordially. I fancied him +ashamed of his foolish falsehood; and I, on my side, was angry because +of it. The pair were for ever strolling backwards and forwards on +deck, or resting beneath the awning on the poop, and talking--always +talking. I fancied the boy was delicate; he certainly had a bad cough +during the first few days. But this went away as our voyage proceeded, +and his colour was rich and rosy. + +One afternoon I caught a fragment of their talk as they passed, Johnny +brightly dressed and smiling, his father looking even more shabby and +weary than usual. The man was speaking. + +"And Queen Victoria rides once a year through the streets of London on +her milk-white courser, to hear the nightingales sing in the Tower. +For when she came to the throne the Tower was full of prisoners, but +with a stroke of her sceptre she changed them all into song-birds. +Every year she releases fifty; and that is why they sing so +rapturously, because each one hopes his turn has come at last." + +I turned away. It was unconscionable to cram the child's mind +with these preposterous fables. I pictured the poor little chap's +disappointment when the bleak reality came to stare him in the face. +To my mind, his father was worse than an idiot, and I could hardly +bring myself to greet him next morning, when we met. + +My disgust did not seem to trouble him. In a timid way, even, his eyes +expressed satisfaction. For a week or two I let him alone, and then +was forced to speak. + +It happened in this way. We had spun merrily along the tail of the +S.E. trades and glided slowly to a standstill on a glassy ocean, and +beneath a sun that at noon left us shadowless. A fluke or two of wind +had helped us across the line; but now, in 2° 27' north latitude, the +_Midas_ slept like a turtle on the greasy sea. The heat of the near +African coast seemed to beat like steam against our faces. The pitch +bubbled like caviare in the seams of the white deck, and the shrouds +and ratlines ran with tears of tar. To touch the brass rail of the +poop was to blister the hand, to catch a whiff from the cook's galley +was to feel sick for ten minutes. The hens in their coops lay with +eyes glazed and gasped for air. If you hung forward over the bulwarks +you stared down into your own face. The sailors grumbled and cursed +and panted as they huddled forward under a second awning that was +rigged up to give them shade rather than coolness; for coolness was +not to be had. + +On the second afternoon of the calm I happened to pass this awning, +and glanced in. Pretty well all the men were there, lounging, with +shirts open and chests streaming with sweat; and in their midst on a +barrel, sat Johnny, with a flushed face. + +The boatswain--Gibbings by name--was speaking. I heard him say--"An' +the Lord Mayor 'll be down to meet us, sonny, at the docks, wi' his +five-an'-fifty black boys all ablowin' blowin' Hallelujarum on their +silver key-bugles. An' we'll be took in tow to the Mansh'n 'Ouse an' +fed--" here he broke off and passed the back of his hand across his +mouth, with a glance at the ship's cook, who had been driven from his +galley by the heat. But the cook had no suggestions to make. His soul +was still sick with the reek of the boiled pork and pease pudding he +had cooked two hours before under a torrid and vertical sun. + +"We'll put it at hokey-pokey, nothin' a lump, if you _don't_ mind, +sonny," the boatswain went on; "in a nice airy parlour painted white, +with a gilt chandelier an' gilt combings to the wainscot." His picture +of the Mansion House as he proceeded was drawn from his reading in +the Book of Revelations and his own recollections of Thames-side +gin-palaces and the saloons of passenger steamers, and gave the +impression of a virtuous gambling-hell. The whole crew listened +admiringly, and it seemed they were all in the stupid conspiracy. I +resolved, for Johnny's sake, to protest, and that very evening drew +Gibbings aside and expostulated with him. + +"Why," I asked, "lay up this cruel, this certain disappointment for +the little chap? Why yarn to him as if he were bound for the New +Jerusalem?" + +The boatswain stared at me point-blank, at first incredulously, then +with something like pity. + +"Why, sir, don't you know? Can't you see for yoursel'? It's because +he _is_ bound for the New Jeroosalem; because--bless his tender +soul!--that's all the land he'll ever touch." + +"Good Lord!" I cried. "Nonsense! His cough's better; and look at his +cheeks." + +"Ay--we knows that colour on this line. His cough's better, you say; +and I say this weather's killing him. You just wait for the nor'-east +trades." + +I left Gibbings, and after pacing up and down the deck a few times, +stepped to the bulwarks, where a dark figure was leaning and gazing +out over the black waters. Johnny was in bed; and a great shame swept +over me as I noted the appealing wretchedness of this lonely form. + +I stepped up and touched him softly on the arm. + +"Sir, I am come to beg your forgiveness." + +Next morning I joined the conspiracy. + +After his father, I became Johnny's most constant companion. "Father +disliked you at first," was the child's frank comment; "he said you +told fibs, but now he wants us to be friends." And we were excellent +friends. I lied from morning to night--lied glibly, grandly. +Sometimes, indeed, as I lay awake in my berth, a horror took me lest +the springs of my imagination should run dry. But they never did. As a +liar, I out-classed every man on board. + +But by-and-bye, as we caught the first draught of the trades, the boy +began to punctuate my fables with that hateful cough. This went on for +a week; and one day, in the midst of our short stroll, his legs gave +way under him. As I caught him in my arms, he looked up with a smile. + +"I'm very weak, you know. But it'll be all right when I get to +England." + +But it was not till we had passed well beyond the equatorial belt that +Johnny grew visibly worse. In a week he had to lie still on his couch +beneath the awning, and the patter of his feet ceased on the deck. The +captain, who was a bit of a doctor, said to me one day-- + +"He will never live to see England." + +But he did. + +It was a soft spring afternoon when the _Midas_ sighted the Lizard, +and Johnny was still with us, lying on his couch, though almost too +weak to move a limb. As the day wore on we lifted him once or twice to +look. + +"Can you see them quite plain?" he asked; "and the precious stones +hanging on the trees? And the palaces--and the white elephants?" + +I stared through my glass at the serpentine rocks and white-washed +lighthouse above them, all powdered with bronze and gold by the +sinking sun, and answered-- + +"Yes, they are all there." + +All that afternoon we were beside him, looking out and peopling the +shores of home with all manner of vain shows and pageants; and when +one man broke down another took his place. + +As the sun fell, and twilight drew on, the bright revolving lights on +the two towers suddenly flashed out their greeting. We were about to +carry the child below, for the air was chilly; but he saw the flash, +and held up a feeble hand. + +"What is that?" + +"Those two lights," I answered, telling my final lie, "are the +lanterns of Cormelian and Cormoran, the two Cornish giants. They'll +be standing on the shore to welcome us. See--each swings his lantern +round, and then for a moment it is dark; now wait a moment, and you'll +see the light again." + +"Ah!" said the child, with a smile and a little sigh, "it is good to +be--home!" + +And with that word on his lips, as he waited for the next flash, +Johnny stretched himself and died. + + + + +LEGENDS OF ST. PIRAN. + + +I.--SAINT PIRAN AND THE MILLSTONE. + +Should you visit the Blackmore tin-streamers on their feast-day, which +falls on Friday-in-Lide (that is to say, the first Friday in March), +you may note a truly Celtic ceremony. On that day the tinners pick out +the sleepiest boy in the neighbourhood and send him up to the highest +_bound_ in the works, with instructions to sleep there as long as he +can. And by immemorial usage the length of his nap will be the measure +of the tinners' afternoon siesta for twelve months to come. + +Now, this first week in March is St. Piran's week: and St. Piran is +the miners' saint. To him the Cornishmen owe not only their tin, which +he discovered on the spot, but also their divine laziness, which he +brought across from Ireland and naturalised here. And I learned his +story one day from an old miner, as we ate our bread and cheese +together on the floor of Wheal Tregobbin, while the Davy lamp between +us made wavering giants of our shadows on the walls of the adit, and +the sea moaned as it tossed on its bed, two hundred feet above. + + * * * * * + +St. Piran was a little round man; and in the beginning he dwelt on +the north coast of Ireland, in a leafy mill, past which a stream came +tumbling down to the sea. After turning the saint's mill-wheel, the +stream dived over a fall into the Lough below, and the _lul-ul-ur-r-r_ +of the water-wheel and fall was a sleepy music in the saint's ear noon +and night. + +It must not be imagined that the mill-wheel ground anything. No; it +went round merely for the sake of its music. For all St. Piran's +business was the study of objects that presented themselves to his +notice, or, as he called it, the "Rapture av Contemplation"; and as +for his livelihood, he earned it in the simplest way. The waters of +the Lough below possessed a peculiar virtue. You had only to sink a +log or stick therein, and in fifty years' time that log or stick would +be turned to stone. St. Piran was as quick as you are to divine the +possibilities of easy competence offered by this spot. He took time by +the forelock, and in half a century was fairly started in business. +Henceforward he passed all his days among the rocks above the fall, +whistling to himself while he whittled bits of cork and wood into +quaint shapes, attached them to string, weighted them with pebbles, +and lowered them over the fall into the Lough--whence, after +fifty years he would draw them forth, and sell them to the simple +surrounding peasantry at two hundred and fifty _per centum per annum_ +on the initial cost. + +It was a tranquil, lucrative employment, and had he stuck to the +Rapture of Contemplation, he might have ended his days by the fall. +But in an unlucky hour he undertook to feed ten Irish kings and their +armies for three weeks anend on three cows. Even so he might have +escaped, had he only failed. Alas! As it was, the ten kings had no +sooner signed peace and drunk together than they marched up to St. +Piran's door, and began to hold an Indignation Meeting. + +"What's ailing wid ye, then?" asked the saint, poking his head out at +the door; "out wid ut! Did I not stuff ye wid cow-mate galore when the +land was as nakud as me tonshure? But 'twas three cows an' a miracle +wasted, I'm thinkin'." + +"Faith, an' ye've said ut!" answered one of the kings. "Three cows +between tin Oirish kings! 'Tis insultin'! Arrah, now, make it foive, +St. Piran darlint!" + +"Now may they make your stummucks ache for that word, ye marautherin' +thieves av the world!" + +And St. Piran slammed the door in their faces. + +But these kings were Ulstermen, and took things seriously. So they +went off and stirred up the people: and the end was that one sunshiny +morning a dirty rabble marched up to the mill and laid hands on the +saint. On what charge, do you think? Why, for _Being without Visible +Means of Support!_ + +"There's me pethrifyin' spicimins!" cried the saint: and he tugged at +one of the ropes that stretched down into the Lough. + +"Indade!" answered one of the ten kings: "Bad luck to your spicimins!" +says he. + +"Fwhat's that ye're tuggin.' at?" asks a bystander. + +"Now the Holy Mother presarve your eyesight, Tim Coolin," answers St. +Piran, pulling it in, "if ye can't tell a plain millstone at foive +paces! I never asked ye to see _through_ ut," he added, with a +twinkle, for Tim had a plentiful lack of brains, and that the company +knew. + +Sure enough it was a millstone, and a very neat one; and the saint, +having raised a bit of a laugh, went on like a cheap-jack: + +"Av there's any gintleman prisunt wid an eye for millstones, I'll +throuble him to turn ut here. Me own make," says he, "jooled in wan +hole, an' dog-chape at fifteen shillin'--" + +He was rattling away in this style when somebody called out, "To think +av a millstone bein' a visible means av support!" And this time the +laugh turned against the saint. + +"St. Piran dear, ye've got to die," says the spokesman. + +"Musha, musha!"--and the saint set up a wail and wrung his hands. "An' +how's it goin' to be?" he asked, breaking off; "an' if 'tis by Shamus +O'Neil's blunderbust that he's fumblin' yondther, will I stand afore +or ahint ut? for 'tis fatal both ends, I'm thinkin', like Barney +Sullivan's mule. Wirra, wirra! May our souls find mercy, Shamus +O'Neil, for we'll both, be wantin' ut this day. Better for you, +Shamus, that this millstone was hung round your black neck, an' you +drownin' in the dept's av the Lough!" + +The words were not spoken before they all set up a shout. "The +millstone! the millstone!" "Sthrap him to ut!" "He's named his +death!"--and inside of three minutes there was the saint, strapped +down on his own _specimen_. + +"Wirra, wirra!" he cried, and begged for mercy; but they raised a +devastating shindy, and gave the stone a trundle. Down the turf it +rolled and rolled, and then _whoo!_ leaped over the edge of the fall +into space and down--down--till it smote the waters far below, and +knocked a mighty hole in them, and went under-- + +For three seconds only. The next thing that the rabble saw as they +craned over the cliff was St. Piran floating quietly out to sea on the +millstone, for all the world as if on a life-belt, and untying his +bonds to use for a fishing-line! You see, this millstone had been made +of cork originally, and was only half petrified; and the old boy had +just beguiled them. When he had finished undoing the cords, he stood +up and bowed to them all very politely. + +"Visible Manes av Support, me childher--merely Visible Manes av +Support!" he called back. + +'Twas a sunshiny day, and while St. Piran chuckled the sea twinkled +all over with the jest. As for the crowd on the cliff, it looked +for five minutes as if the saint had petrified them harder than the +millstone. Then, as Tim Coolin told his wife, Mary Dogherty, that same +evening, they dispersed promiscuously in groups of one each. + +Meanwhile, the tides were bearing St. Piran and his millstone out into +the Atlantic, and he whiffed for mackerel all the way. And on the +morrow a stiff breeze sprang up and blew him sou'-sou-west until he +spied land; and so he stepped ashore on the Cornish coast. + +In Cornwall he lived many years till he died: and to this day there +are three places named after him--Perranaworthal, Perranuthno and +Perranzabuloe. But it was in the last named that he took most delight, +because at Perranzabuloe (Perochia Sti. Pirani in Sabulo) there was +nothing but sand to distract him from the Study of Objects that +Presented Themselves to his Notice: for he had given up miracles. So +he sat on the sands and taught the Cornish people how to be idle. Also +he discovered tin for them; but that was an accident. + + +II.--SAINT PIRAN AND THE VISITATION. + +A full fifty years had St. Piran dwelt among the sandhills between +Perranzabuloe and the sea before any big rush of saints began to pour +into Cornwall: for 'twas not till the old man had discovered tin for +us that they sprang up thick as blackberries all over the county; so +that in a way St. Piran had only himself to blame when his idle ways +grew to be a scandal by comparison with the push and bustle of the +newcomers. + +Never a notion had he that, from Rome to Land's End, all his holy +brethren were holding up their hands over his case. He sat in his +cottage above the sands at Perranzabuloe and dozed to the hum of the +breakers, in charity with all his parishioners, to whom his money +was large as the salt wind; for his sleeping partnership in the +tin-streaming business brought him a tidy income. And the folk knew +that if ever they wanted religion, they had only to knock and ask for +it. + +But one fine morning, an hour before noon, the whole parish sprang to +its feet at the sound of a horn. The blast was twice repeated, and +came from the little cottage across the sands. + +"'Tis the blessed saint's cow-horn!" they told each other. "Sure the +dear man must be in the article of death!" And they hurried off to the +cottage, man, woman, and child: for 'twas thirty years at least since +the horn had last been sounded. + +They pushed open the door, and there sat St. Piran in his arm-chair, +looking good for another twenty years, but considerably flustered. His +cheeks were red, and his fingers clutched the cow-horn nervously. + +"Andrew Penhaligon," said he to the first man that entered, "go you +out and ring the church bell." + +Off ran Andrew Penhaligon. "But, blessed father of us," said one or +two, "we're all _here_! There's no call to ring the church bell, seem' +you're neither dead nor afire, blessamercy!" + +"Oh, if you're all here, that alters the case; for 'tis only a +proclamation I have to give out at present. To-morrow mornin'--Glory +be to God!--I give warnin' that Divine service will take place in the +parish church." + +"You're sartin you bain't feelin' poorly, St. Piran dear?" asked one +of the women. + +"Thank you, Tidy Mennear, I'm enjoyin' health. But, as I was sayin', +the parish church 'll be needed to-morrow, an' so you'd best set to +and clean out the edifice: for I'm thinkin'," he added, "it'll be +needin' that." + +"To be sure, St. Piran dear, we'll humour ye." + +"'Tisn' that at all," the saint answered; "but I've had a vision." + +"Don't you often?" + +"H'm! but this was a peculiar vision; or maybe a bit of a birdeen +whispered it into my ear. Anyway, 'twas revealed to me just now in a +dream that I stood on the lawn at Bodmin Priory, and peeped in at the +Priory window. An' there in the long hall sat all the saints together +at a big table covered with red baize and plotted against us. There +was St. Petroc in the chair, with St. Guron by his side, an' St. Neot, +St. Udy, St. Teath, St. Keverne, St. Wen, St. Probus, St. Enodar, St. +Just, St. Fimbarrus, St. Clether, St. Germoe, St. Veryan, St. Winnock, +St. Minver, St. Anthony, with the virgins Grace, and Sinara, and +Iva--the whole passel of 'em. An' they were agreein' there was no +holiness left in this parish of mine; an' speakin' shame of me, my +childer--of me, that have banked your consciences these fifty years, +and always been able to pay on demand: the more by token that I kept a +big reserve, an' you knew it. Answer me: when was there ever a panic +in Perranzabuloe? ''Twas all very well,' said St. Neot, when his turn +came to speak, 'but this state o' things ought to be exposed.' He's +as big as bull's beef, is St. Neot, ever since he worked that miracle +over the fishes, an' reckons he can disparage an old man who was +makin' millstones to float when he was suckin' a coral. But the upshot +is, they're goin' to pay us a Visitation to-morrow, by surprise. And, +if only for the parish credit, we'll be even wid um, by dad!" + +St. Piran still lapsed into his native brogue when strongly excited. + +But he had hardly done when Andrew Penhaligon came running in-- + +"St. Piran, honey, I've searched everywhere; an' be hanged to me if I +can find the church at all!" + +"Fwhat's become av ut?" cried the saint, sitting up sharply. + +"How should I know? But devil a trace can I see!" + +"Now, look here," St. Piran said; "the church was there, right +enough." + +"That's a true word," spoke up an old man, "for I mind it well. An +elegant tower it had, an' a shingle roof." + +"Spake up, now," said the saint, glaring around; "fwich av ye's gone +an' misbestowed me parush church? For I won't believe," he said, "that +it's any worse than carelussness--at laste, not yet-a-bit." + +Some remembered the church, and some did not: but the faces of all +were clear of guilt. They trooped out on the sands to search. + +Now, the sands by Perranzabuloe are for ever shifting and driving +before the northerly and nor'-westerly gales; and in time had heaped +themselves up and covered the building out of sight. To guess this +took the saint less time than you can wink your eye in; but the bother +was that no one remembered exactly where the church, had stood, and as +there were two score at least of tall mounds along the shore, and all +of pretty equal height, there was no knowing where to dig. To uncover +them all was a job to last till doomsday. + +"Blur-an'-agurs, but it's ruined I am!" cried St. Piran. "An' the +Visitashun no further away than to-morra at tin a.m.!" He wrung his +hands, then caught up a spade, and began digging like a madman. + +They searched all day, and with lanterns all the night through: they +searched from Ligger Point to Porth Towan: but came on never a sign of +the missing church. + +"If it only had a spire," one said, "there'd be some chance." But as +far as could be recollected, the building had a dumpy tower. + +"Once caught, twice shy," said another; "let us find it this once, an' +next time we'll have landmarks to dig it out by." + +It was at sunrise that St. Piran, worn-out and heart-sick, let fall +his spade and spoke from one of the tall mounds, where he had been +digging for an hour. + +"My children," he began, and the men uncovered their heads, "my +children, we are going to be disgraced this day, and the best we can +do is to pray that we may take it like men. Let us pray." + +He knelt down on the great sand-hill, and the men and women around +dropped on their knees also. And then St. Piran put up the prayer that +has made his name famous all the world over. + +_THE PRAYER OF ST. PIRAN. + +Harr us, O Lord, and be debonair: for ours is a particular case. We +are not like the men of St. Neot or the men of St. Udy, who are for +ever importuning Thee upon the least occasion, praying at all hours +and every day of the week. Thou knowest it is only with extreme +cause that we bring ourselves to trouble Thee. Therefore regard our +moderation in time past, and be instant to help us now. Amen_. + +There was silence for a full minute as he ceased; and then the +kneeling parishioners lifted their eyes towards the top of the mound. + +St. Piran was nowhere to be seen! + +They stared into each other's faces. For a while not a sound was +uttered. Then a woman began to sob-- + +"We've lost 'en! We've lost 'en!" + +"Like Enoch, he's been taken!" + +"Taken up in a chariot an' horses o' fire. Did any see 'en go?" + +"An' what'll we do without 'en? Holy St. Piran, come back to us!" + +"Hullo! hush a bit an' hearken!" cried Andrew Penhaligon, lifting a +hand. + +They were silent, and listening as he commanded, heard a muffled voice +and a faint, calling as it were from the bowels of the earth. + +"Fetch a ladder!" it said: "fetch a ladder! It's meself that's found +ut, glory be to God! Holy queen av heaven! but me mouth is full av +sand, an' it's burstin' I'll be if ye don't fetch a ladder quick!" + +They brought a ladder and set it against the mound. Three of the men +climbed up. At the top they found a big round hole, from the lip of +which they scraped the sand away, discovering a patch of shingle roof, +through which St. Piran--whose weight had increased of late--had +broken and tumbled heels over head into his own church. + +Three hours later there appeared on the eastern sky-line, against the +yellow blaze of the morning, a large cavalcade that slowly pricked its +way over the edge and descended the slopes of Newlyn Downs. It was the +Visitation. In the midst rode St. Petroc, his crozier tucked under his +arm, astride a white mule with scarlet ear-tassels and bells and a +saddle of scarlet leather. He gazed across the sands to the sea, and +turned to St. Neot, who towered at his side upon a flea-bitten grey. + +"The parish seems to be deserted," said he: "not a man nor woman can I +see, nor a trace of smoke above the chimneys." + +St. Neot tightened his thin lips. In his secret heart he was mightily +pleased. + +"Eight in the morning," he answered, with a glance back at the sun. +"They'll be all abed, I'll warrant you." + +St. Petroc muttered a threat. + +They entered the village street. Not a soul turned out at their +coming. Every cottage door was fast closed, nor could any amount of +knocking elicit an answer or entice a face to a window. In gathering +wrath the visiting saints rode along the sea-shore to St. Piran's +small hut. + +Here the door stood open: but the hut was empty. A meagre breakfast of +herbs was set out on the table, and a brand new scourge lay somewhat +ostentatiously beside the platter. The visitors stood nonplussed, +looked at each other, then eyed the landscape. Between barren sea +and barren downs the beach stretched away, with not a human shape in +sight. St. Petroc, choking with impotent wrath, appeared to study the +hollow green breakers from between the long ears of his mule, but with +quick sidelong glances right and left, ready to jump down the throat +of the first saint that dared to smile. + +After a minute or so St. Enodar suddenly turned his face inland, and +held up a finger. + +"Hark!" he shouted above the roar of the sea. + +"What is it?" + +"It sounds to me," said St. Petroc, after listening for some moments +with his head on one side, "it sounds to me like a hymn." + +"To be sure 'tis a hymn," said St. Enodar, "and the tune is 'Mullyon,' +for a crown." And he pursed up his lips and followed the chant, +beating time with his forefinger-- + + _When, like a thief, the Midianite + Shall steal upon the camp, + O, let him find our armour bright, + And oil within our lamp!_" + +"But where in the world does it come from?" asked St. Neot. + +This could not be answered for the moment; but the saints turned their +horses' heads from the sea, and moved slowly on the track of the +sound, which at every step grew louder and more distinct. + + "_It is at no appointed hours, + It is not by the dock, + That Satan, grisly wolf, devours + The unprotected flock_" + +The visitors found themselves at the foot of an enormous sand-hill, +from the top of which the chant was pouring as lava from a crater. +They set their ears to the sandy wall. They walked round it, and +listened again. + + "_But ever prowls th' insidious foe, + And listens round the fold_" + +This was too much. St. Petroc smote twice upon the sand-hill with his +crozier, and shouted-- + +"Hi, there!" + +The chant ceased. For at least a couple of minutes nothing happened; +and then St. Piran's bald head was thrust cautiously forward over the +summit. + +"Holy St. Petroc! Was it only you, after all? And St. Neot--and St. +Udy O, glory be!" + +"Why, who did you imagine we were?" St. Petroc asked, still in +amazement. + +"Why, throat-cutting Danes, to be sure, by the way you were comin' +over the hills when we spied you, three hours back. An' the trouble +we've had to cover up our blessed church out o' sight of thim +marautherin' thieves! An' the intire parish gathered inside here an' +singin' good-by songs in expectation of imminent death! An' to think +'twas you holy men, all the while! But why didn't ye send word ye was +comin', St. Petroc, darlint? For it's little but sand ye'll find in +your mouths for breakfast, I'm thinkin'." + + + + +IN THE TRAIN. + + +I.--PUNCH'S UNDERSTUDY. + +The first-class smoking compartment was the emptiest in the whole +train, and even this was hot to suffocation, because my only companion +denied me more than an inch of open window. His chest, he explained +curtly, was "susceptible." As we crawled westward through the glaring +country, the sun's rays reverberated on the carriage roof till I +seemed to be crushed under an anvil, counting the strokes. I had +dropped my book, and was staring listlessly out of the window. At the +other end of the compartment my fellow-passenger had pulled down the +blinds, and hidden his face behind the _Western Morning News_. He +was a red and choleric little man of about sixty, with a protuberant +stomach, a prodigious nose, to which he carried snuff about once in +two minutes, and a marked deformity of the shoulders. For comfort--and +also, perhaps, to hide this hump--he rested his back in the angle +by the window. He wore a black alpaca coat, a high stock, white +waistcoat, and trousers of shepherd's plaid. On these and a few other +trivial details I built a lazy hypothesis that he was a lawyer, and +unmarried. + +Just before entering the station at Lostwithiel, our train passed +between the white gates of a level crossing. A moment before I had +caught sight of the George drooping from the church spire, and at the +crossing I saw it was regatta-day in the small town. The road was +thick with people and lined with sweet-standings; and by the near end +of the bridge a Punch-and-Judy show had just closed a performance. The +orchestra had unloosed his drum, and fallen to mopping the back of his +neck with the red handkerchief that had previously bound the panpipes +to his chin. A crowd still loitered around, and among it I noted +several men and women in black--ugly stains upon the pervading +sunshine. + +The station platform was cram-full as we drew up, and it was clear at +once that all the carriages in the train would be besieged, without +regard to class. By some chance, however, ours was neglected, and +until the very last moment we seemed likely to escape. The guard's +whistle was between his lips when I heard a shout, then one or two +feminine screams, and a company of seven or eight persons came +charging out of the booking-office. Every one of them was apparelled +in black: they were, in fact, the people I had seen gaping at the +Punch-and-Judy show. + +In a moment one of the men tore open the door of our compartment, and +we were invaded. One--two--four--six--seven--in they poured, tumbling +over my legs, panting, giggling inanely, exhorting each other to +hurry--an old man, two youths, three middle-aged women, and a little +girl about four years old. I heard a fierce guttural sound, and saw my +fellow-passenger on his feet, choking with wrath and gesticulating. +But the guard slammed the door on his resentment, and the train moved +on. As it gathered speed he fell back, all purple above his stock, +snatched his malacca walking-cane from under the coat-tails of a +subsiding youth, stuck it upright between his knees, and glared round +upon the intruders. They were still possessed with excitement over +their narrow escape, and unconscious of offence. One of the women +dropped into the corner seat, and took the little girl on her lap. The +child's dusty boots rubbed against the old gentleman's trousers. He +shifted his position, grunted, and took snuff furiously. + +"That was nibby-jibby," observed the old man of the party, while his +eyes wandered round for a seat. + +"I declare I thought I should ha' died," panted a robust-looking woman +with a wart on her cheek, and a yard of crape hanging from her bonnet. +"Can't 'een find nowhere to sit, uncle?" + +"Reckon I must make shift 'pon your lap, Susannah." + +This was said with a chuckle, and the woman tittered. + +"What new-fang'd game be this o' the Great Western's? Arms to the +seats, I vow. We'll have to sit intimate, my dears." + +"'Tis First Class," one of the young men announced in a chastened +whisper: "I saw it written on the door." + +There was a short silence of awe. + +"Well!" ejaculated Susannah: "I thought, when first I sat down, that +the cushions felt extraordinary plum. You don't think they'll fine +us?" + +"It all comes of our stoppin' to gaze at that Punch-an'-Judy," the old +fellow went on, after I had shown them how to turn back the arm-seats, +and they were settled in something like comfort. "But I never _could_ +refrain from that antic, though I feels condemned too, in a way, an' +poor Thomas laid in earth no longer ago than twelve noon. But in the +midst of life we are in death." + +"I don't remember a more successful buryin'," said the woman who held +the little girl. + +"That was partly luck, as you may say, it bein' regatta-day an' the +fun o' the fair not properly begun. I counted a lot at the cemetery I +didn' know by face, an' I set 'em down for excursionists, that caught +sight of a funeral, an' followed it to fill up the time." + +"It all added." + +"Oh, aye; Thomas was beautifully interred." + +By this time the heat in the carriage was hardly more overpowering +than the smell of crape, broadcloth, and camphor. The youth who had +wedged himself next to me carried a large packet of "fairing," which +he had bought at one of the sweet-stalls. He began to insert it into +his side pocket, and in his struggles drove an elbow sharply into my +ribs. I shifted my position a little. + +"Tom's wife would ha' felt it a source o' pride, had she lived." + +But I ceased to listen; for in moving I had happened to glance at the +further end of the carriage, and there my attention was arrested by +a curious little piece of pantomime. The little girl--a dark-eyed, +intelligent child, whose pallor was emphasised by the crape which +smothered her--was looking very closely at the old gentleman with the +hump--staring at him hard, in fact. He, on the other hand, was leaning +forward, with both hands on the knob of his malacca, his eyes bent on +the floor and his mouth squared to the surliest expression. He +seemed quite unconscious of her scrutiny, and was tapping one foot +impatiently on the floor. + +After a minute I was surprised to see her lean forward and touch him +gently on the knee. + +He took no notice beyond shuffling about a little and uttering a +slight growl. The woman who held her put out an arm and drew back +the child's hand reprovingly. The child paid no heed to this, but +continued to stare. Then in another minute she again bent forward, and +tapped the old gentleman's knee. + +This time she fetched a louder growl from him, and an irascible glare. +Not in the least daunted, she took hold of his malacca, and shook it +to and fro in her small hand. + +"I wish to heavens, madam, you'd keep your child to yourself!" + +"For shame, Annie!" whispered the poor woman, cowed by his look. + +But again Annie paid no heed. Instead, she pushed the malacca towards +the old gentleman, saying-- + +"Please, sir, will 'ee warm Mister Barrabel wi' this?" + +He moved uneasily, and looked harshly at her without answering. "For +shame, Annie!" the woman murmured a second time; but I saw her lean +back, and a tear started and rolled down her cheek. + +"If you please, sir," repeated Annie, "will 'ee warm Mister Barrabel +wi' this?" + +The old gentleman stared round the carriage. In his eyes you could +read the question, "What in the devil's name does the child mean?" The +robust woman read it there, and answered him huskily-- + +"Poor mite! she's buried her father this mornin'; an' Mister Barrabel +is the coffin-maker, an' nailed 'en down." + +"Now," said Annie, this time eagerly, "will 'ee warm him same as the +big doll did just now?" + +Luckily, the old gentleman did not understand this last allusion. He +had not seen the group around the Punch-and-Judy show; nor, if he had, +is it likely he would have guessed the train of thought in the child's +mind. But to me, as I looked at my fellow-passenger's nose and the +deformity of his shoulders, and remembered how Punch treats the +undertaker in the immortal drama, it was all plain enough. I glanced +at the child's companions. Nothing in their faces showed that they +took the allusion; and the next moment I was glad to think that I +alone knew what had prompted Annie's speech. + +For the next moment, with a beautiful change on his face, the old +gentleman had taken the child on his knee, and was talking to her as I +dare say he had never talked before. + +"Are you her mother?" he asked, looking up suddenly, and addressing +the woman opposite. + +"Her mother's been dead these two year. I'm her aunt, an' I'm takin' +her home to rear 'long wi' my own childer." + +He was bending over Annie, and had resumed his chat. It was all +nonsense--something about the silver knob of his malacca--but it took +hold of the child's fancy and comforted her. At the next station I had +to alight, for it was the end of my journey. But looking back into +the carriage as I shut the door, I saw Annie bending forward over the +walking-stick, and following the pattern of its silverwork with her +small finger. Her face was turned from the old gentleman's, and behind +her little black hat his eyes were glistening. + + +II.--A CORRECTED CONTEMPT. + +The whistles had sounded, and we were already moving slowly out of St. +David's Station, Exeter, to continue our journey westward, when +the door was pulled open and a brown bag, followed by a whiff of +_Millefleurs_ and an over-dressed young man, came flying into the +compartment where I sat alone and smoked. + +The youth scrambled to a seat as the door slammed behind him; remarked +that it was "a near shave"; and laughed nervously as if to assure +me that he found it a joke. His face was pink with running, and the +colour contrasted unpleasantly with his pale sandy hair and moustache. +He wore a light check suit, a light-blue tie knotted through a +"Mizpah" ring, a white straw hat with a blue ribbon, and two +finger-rings set with sham diamonds--altogether the sort of outfit +that its owner would probably have described as "rather nobby." +Feeling that just now it needed a few repairs, he opened the bag, +pulled out a duster and flicked away for half-a-minute at his brown +boots. Next with a handkerchief he mopped his face and wiped round the +inner edge first of his straw hat, and then of his collar and cuffs. +After this he stood up, shook his trousers till they hung with +a satisfying gracefulness, produced a cigar-case--covered with +forget-me-nots in crewel work--and a copy of the _Sporting Times_, sat +down again, and asked me if I could oblige him with a light. + +I think the train had neared Dawlish before the cigar was fairly +started, and his pink face hidden behind the pink newspaper. But even +so between the red sandstone cliffs and the wholesome sea this pink +thing would not sit still. His diamond rings kept flirting round the +edge of the _Sporting Times_, his brown boots shifting their position +on the cushion in front of him, his legs crossing, uncrossing, +recrossing, his cigar-smoke rising in quick, uneasy puffs. + +Between Teignmouth and Newton Abbot this restlessness increased. He +dropped some cigar-ash on his waistcoat and arose to shake it off. +Twice or thrice he picked up the paper and set it down again. As we +ran into Newton Abbot Station, he came over to my side of the carriage +and scanned the small crowd upon the platform. Suddenly his pink +cheeks flushed to crimson. The train was slowing to a standstill, and +while he hesitated with a hand on the door, a little old man came +trotting down the platform--a tremulous little man, in greenish black +broadcloth, eloquent of continued depression in some village retail +trade. His watery eyes shone brimful of pride and gladness. + +"Whai, Charley, lad, there you be, to be shure; an' lookin' as peart +as a gladdy! Shaäke your old vather's vist, lad--ees fay, you be +lookin' well!" + +The youth, scorched with a miserable shame, stepped out, put his hand +in his father's, and tried to withdraw him a little up the platform +and out of my hearing. + +"Noa, noa; us'll bide where us be, zoa's to be 'andy vur the train +when her starts off. Her doan't stay no while. I vound Zam Emmet +zarving here as porter--you mind Zam? Danged if I knawed 'en, vurst +along, the vace of 'en's that altered: grawed a beard, her hev. But +her zays to me, 'How be gettin' 'long, Isaac?' an' then I zaw who +'twas--an' us fell to talkin', and her zaid the train staps vaive +minnits, no more nor less." + +His son interrupted him with mincing haughtiness. + +"'Ow's mothaw?" + +"Weist an' ailin', poor crittur--weist an' ailin'. Dree times her've +a-been through the galvanic battery, an' might zo well whistle. Turble +lot o' zickness about. An' old Miss Ruby's resaigned, an' a new +postmistress come in her plaäce--a tongue-tight pore crittur, an' +talks London. If you'll b'lieve _me_, Miss Ruby's been to Plymouth +'pon her zavings an' come back wi' vifteen pound' worth of valse teeth +in her jaws, which, as I zaid, 'You must excoose my plain speakin', +but they've a-broadened your mouth, Miss Ruby, an' I laiked 'ee better +as you was bevore.' 'Never mind,' her zays, 'I can chow.' There now, +Charley--zimme I've been doing arl the tarlk, an' thy mother'll be +waitin' wi' dree-score o' questions, zoon as I gets whome. Her'd ha' +corned to gie thee a kiss, if her'd a-been 'n a vit staäte; but her's +zent thee zummat--" + +He foraged in the skirt pockets of his threadbare coat and brought +out a paper of sandwiches and a long-nosed apple. I saw the young man +wince. + +"Her reckoned you'd veel a wamblin' in the stommick, travellin' arl +the waäy from Hexeter to Plymouth. There, stow it awaäy. Not veelin' +peckish? Never maind: there's a plenty o' taime betwix' this an' +Plymouth." + +"No, thanks." + +"Tut-tut, now--" He insisted, and the packet, on the white paper +wrapper of which spots of grease were spreading, changed hands. The +little man peered wistfully up into his son's face: his own eyes were +full of love, but seemed to search for something. + +"How dost laike it, up to Hexeter: an' how't get along?" + +"Kepital--kepital. Give mothaw my love." + +"E'es be shure. Fainely plaized her'll be to hear thee'rt zo naicely +adrest. Her'd maäde up her maind, pore zowl, that arl your buttons ud +be out, wi' nobody to zee arter 'en. But I declare thee'rt drest laike +a topsawyer." + +And with this a dead silence fell between the two. The old man shifted +his weight from one foot to another, and twice cleared his throat. The +young counter-jumper averted his eyes from his father's quivering lip +to stare up the platform. The minutes ran on. + +At last the old man found his voice-- + +"Thic' there's a stubbard apple you've got in your hand." + +"Take your seats, please!" + +The guard held the door while they shook hands again. "Charley" leaned +out at the window as our train began to move. + +"Her comes from the zeccond 'spalier past the inyon-bed; al'ays the +vurst to raipen, thic' there tree." + +The old fellow broke into something resembling a run as he followed +our carriage to shout-- + +"Turble bad zayson vur zaider!" + +With that he halted at the end of the platform, and watched us out of +sight. His son flung himself on the seat with--I could have kicked him +for it--a deprecatory titter. Then he drew a long breath; but it was +twenty minutes before his blush faded, and he regained confidence to +ask me for another light. + +Just eighteen months after I was travelling up to London in the Zulu +express. A large Fair Trade meeting had been held at Plymouth the +night before, and three farmers in the compartment with me were +discussing that morning's leader in the _Western Daily Mercury_. One +of them had already been goaded into violent speech when we halted at +Newton Abbot and another passenger stepped in--a little old man in a +suit of black. + +I recognised him at once. And yet he was changed woefully. He had +fallen away in flesh; the lines had deepened beside his upper lip; and +in spite of a glossier suit he had an appearance of hopelessness which +he had not worn when I saw him for the first time. + +He took his seat, looked about him vacantly and caught the eye of the +angry farmer, who nodded, broke off his speech in the middle of a +sentence, and asked in a curiously gentle voice-- + +"Travellin' up to Exeter?" + +The old man bent his head for "yes," and I saw the tears well up in +his weak eyes. + +"There's no need vur to ax your arrand." The farmer here dropped his +tone almost to a whisper. + +"Naw, naw. I be goin' up to berry 'en. Ees, vriends," he went on, +looking around and asking, with that glance, the sympathy of all +present, "to berry my zon, my clever zon, my only zon." + +Nobody spoke for a few seconds. Then the kindly farmer observed-- + +"Aye, I've heerd zay a' was very clever to his traäde. 'Uxtable an' +Co., his employers, spoke very handsome of 'en, they tell me. I can't +call to maind, tho', that I've a-zet eyes 'pon the young man since he +was a little tacker." + +The old man began to fumble in his breastpocket, and drawing out a +photograph, handed it across. + +"That's the last that was took of 'en." + +"Pore young chap," said the farmer, holding the likeness level with +his eyes and studying it; "Pore young chap! Zuch a respectable lad to +look at! They tell me a' made ye a gude zon, too." + +"Gude?" The tears ran down the father's face and splashed on his +hands, trembling as they folded over the knob of his stout stick. +"Gude? I b'lieve, vriends, ye'll call it gude when a young man zends +the third o' his earnin's week by week to help his parents. That's +what my zon did, vrum the taime he left whome. An' presunts--never a +month went by, but zome little gift ud come by the postman; an' little +'twas he'd got to live 'pon, at the best, the dear lad--" + +The farmer was passing back the photograph. "May I see it?" I asked: +and the old man nodded. + +It was the same face--the same suit, even--that had roused my contempt +eighteen months before. + + + + +WOON GATE. + +It was on a cold and drenching afternoon in October that I spent an +hour at Woon Gate: for in all the homeless landscape this little +round-house offers the only shelter, its windows looking east and west +along the high-road and abroad upon miles of moorland, hedgeless, +dotted with peat-ricks, inhabited only by flocks of grey geese and a +declining breed of ponies, the chartered vagrants of Woon Down. Two +miles and more to the north, and just under the rim of the horizon, +straggle the cottages of a few tin-streamers, with their backs to the +wind. These look down across an arable country, into which the women +descend to work at seed-time and harvest, and whence, returning, they +bring some news of the world. But Woon Gate lies remoter. It was never +more than a turnpike; and now the gate is down, the toll-keeper dead, +and his widow lives alone in the round-house. She opened the door +to me--a pleasant-faced old woman of seventy, in a muslin cap, red +turnover, and grey gown hitched very high. She wore no shoes inside +her cottage, but went about in a pair of coarse worsted stockings on +all days except the very rawest, when the chill of the lime-ash floor +struck into her bones. + +"May I wait a few minutes till the weather lifts?" I asked. + +She smiled and seemed almost grateful. + +"You'm kindly welcome, be sure: that's if you don't mind the +Vaccination." + +I suppose that my face expressed some wonder: for she went on, shaking +my dripping hat and hanging it on a nail by the fire-- + +"Doctor Rodda'll be comin' in half-an-hour's time. 'Tis district +Vaccination to-day, and he always inoculates here, 'tis so handy." + +She nodded her head at half a dozen deal chairs and a form arrayed +round the wall under a row of sacred texts and tradesmen's almanacks. + +"There'll be nine to-day, as I makes it out. I counted 'em up several +times last night." + +It was evidently a great day in her eyes. + +"But you've allowed room for many more than nine," I pointed out. + +"Why, of course. There's some brings their elder childer for a +treat--an' there's always 'Melia Penaluna." + +I was on the point of asking who Amelia Penaluna might be, when my +attention was drawn to the small eastern window. Just outside, and +but a dozen paces from the house, there stretched a sullen pond, +over which the wind drove in scuds and whipped the sparse reeds that +encroached around its margin. Beside the further bank of the pond +the high-road was joined by a narrow causeway that led down from +the northern fringe of Woon Down; and along this causeway moved a +procession of women and children. + +They were about twenty in all, and, as they skirted the pond, their +figures were sharply silhouetted against the grey sky. Each of the +women held a baby close to her breast and bent over it as she advanced +against the wind, that beat her gown tightly against her legs and +blew it out behind in bellying folds. Yet beneath their uncouth and +bedraggled garments they moved like mothers of a mighty race, tall, +large-limbed, broad of hip, hiding generous breasts beneath the +shawls--red, grey, and black--that covered their babes from the wind +and rain. A few of the children struggled forward under ricketty +umbrellas; but the mothers had their hands full, and strode along +unsheltered. More than one, indeed, faced the storm without bonnet or +covering for the head; and all marched along the causeway like figures +on some sculptured frieze, their shadows broken beneath them on the +ruffled surface of the pond. I said that each of the women carried a +babe: but there was one who did not--a plain, squat creature, at the +tail of the procession, who wore a thick scarf round her neck, and a +shawl of divers bright colours. She led a small child along with one +hand, and with the other attempted to keep a large umbrella against +the wind. + +"Nineteen--twenty--twenty-one," counted the toll-keeper's widow behind +me as I watched the spasmodic jerkings of this umbrella. "I wasn't far +out in my reckon. And you, sir, make twenty-two. It niver rains but it +pours, they say. Times enow I don't see a soul for days together, not +to hail by name, an' now you drops in on top of a Vaccination." + +Her sigh over this plethora of good fortune was interrupted by a +knocking at the door, and the mothers trooped in, their clothes +dripping pools of water on the sanded lime-ash. One or two of them, +after exchanging greetings with their hostess, bade me Good-morning: +others eyed me in silence as they took their seats round the wall. +All whose babes were not sound asleep quietly undid their bodices and +began to give them suck. The older children scrambled into chairs and +sat kicking their heels and tracing patterns on the floor with the +water that ran off their umbrellas. They were restless but rather +silent, as if awed by the shadow of the coming Vaccination. The woman +who had brought up the procession, found a place in the far corner, +and began to unwind the comforter around her neck. Her eyes were +brighter and more agitated than any in the room. + +"A brave trapse all the way from Upper Woon," remarked the youngest +mother, wiping a smear of rain from her baby's forehead. + +"Ah, 'tis your first, Mary Polsue. Wait till you've carried twelve +such loads, my dear," said a tall middle-aged woman, whose black hair, +coarse as a mane, was powdered grey with, raindrops. + +"Dear now, Ellen; be this the twelfth?" our hostess exclaimed. "I was +reckonin' it the 'leventh." + +"Ay, th' twelfth--tho' I've most lost count. I buried one, you know." + +"For my part," put in a pale-eyed blonde, who sat near the door, "'t +seems but yestiddy I was here with Alsia yonder." She nodded her head +towards a girl of five who was screwing herself round in her chair and +trying to peep out of the window. + +"Ay, they come and come: the Lord knows wherefore," the tall woman +assented. "When they'm young they make your arms ache, an' when they +grow up they make your heart ache." + +"But 'Melia Penaluna's been here more times than any of us," said the +blonde with a titter, directing her eyes towards a corner of the room. +The rest looked too, and laughed. Turning, I saw that the plain-faced +woman had unwound her comforter, and now I could see, hanging low on +her chest, an immense lump wrapped in clean white linen and bound up +with a gaudy yellow handkerchief. It was a goître. + +"Iss, my dears," she answered, touching it and smiling, but with tears +in her eyes; "this here's my only child, an' iver will be. Ne'er a +man'll look 'pon me, so I'm forced to be content wi' this babe and +clothe 'en pretty, as you see. Ah, you'm lucky, you'm lucky, though +you talk so!" + +"She's terrible fond o' childer," said one of the women audibly, +addressing me. "How many 'noculations have you 'tended, 'Melia?" + +"Six-an'-twenty, countin' to-day," 'Melia announced with pride in her +trembling voice. But at this point one of the infants began to cry, +and before he could be hushed the noise of wheels sounded down the +road, and Dr. Rodda drove up in his reedy gig. + +He was a round, dapper practitioner, with slightly soiled cuffs and +an extremely business-like manner. On entering the room he jerked his +head in a general nod to all present, and stepping to the table, drew +a small packet from his waistcoat, and unfolded it. It contained about +a score of small pieces of ivory, pointed like pens, but flat. Then, +pulling out a paper and consulting it hastily, he set to work, +beginning with the child that lay on the blonde woman's lap, next to +the door. + +I looked around. The children were staring with wide, admiring eyes. +Their mothers also watched, but listlessly, still suckling their babes +as each waited its turn. Only 'Melia Penaluna winced and squeezed her +hands together whenever a feeble wailing told that one of the vaccine +points had made itself felt. + +"Do 'ee think it hurts the poor mites?" the youngest mother asked. + +"Not much, I reckon," answered the big woman. + +Nevertheless her own child cried pitifully when its turn came. And as +it cried, the childless woman in the corner got off her chair and ran +forward tremulously. + +"'Becca, let me take him. Do'ee, co!" + +"'Melia Penaluna, you'm no better 'n a fool." + +But poor, misnamed Amelia was already back in her corner with the +child, hugging it, kissing it, rocking it in her arms, crooning over +it, holding it tightly against the lump that hung down on her barren +bosom. Long after the baby had ceased to cry she sat crooning and +yearning over it. And the mothers watched her, with wonder and +scornful amusement in their eyes. + + + + +FROM A COTTAGE IN GANTICK. + + +I.--THE MOURNER'S HORSE. + +The Board Schoolmaster and I are not friends. He is something of +a zealot, and conceives it his mission to weed out the small +superstitions of the countryside and plant exact information in their +stead. He comes from up the country--a thin, clean-shaven town-bred +man, whose black habit and tall hat, though considerably bronzed, +refuse to harmonise with the scenery amid which they move. His speech +is formal and slightly dogmatic, and in argument he always gets the +better of me. Therefore, feeling sure it will annoy him excessively, I +am going to put him into this book. He laid himself open the other day +to this stroke of revenge, by telling me a story; and since he loves +precision, I will be very precise about the circumstances. + +At the foot of my garden, and hidden from my window by the clipt +box hedge, runs Sanctuary Lane, along which I see the heads of the +villagers moving to church on Sunday mornings. But in returning they +invariably keep to the raised footpath on the far side, that brings +the women's skirts and men's smallclothes into view. I have made many +attempts to discover how this distinction arose, and why it is adhered +to, but never found a satisfying explanation. It is the rule, however. + +From the footpath a high bank (where now the primroses have given +place to stitchwort and ragged robin) rises to an orchard; so steeply +that the apple-blossom drops into the lane. Just now the petals lie +thickly there in the early morning, to be trodden into dust as soon +as the labourers fare to work. Beyond and above the orchard comes a +stretch of pastureland and then a young oak-coppice, the fringe of a +great estate, with a few Scotch firs breaking the sky-line on top of +all. The head gamekeeper of this estate tells me we shall have a hot +summer, because the oak this year was in leaf before the ash, though +only by a day. The ash was foliating on the 29th of April, the oak +on the 28th. Up there the blue-bells lie in sheets of mauve, and the +cuckoo is busy. I rarely see him; but his three notes fill the hot +noon and evening. When he spits (says the gamekeeper again) it is time +to be sheep-shearing. My talk with the gamekeeper is usually held at +six in the morning, when he comes down the lane and I am stepping +across to test the water in Scarlet's Well. + +This well bubbles up under a low vault scooped in the bank by the +footpath and hung with hart's-tongue ferns. It has two founts, close +together; but whereas one of them oozes only, the other is bubbling +perennially, and, as near as I have observed, keeps always the same. +Its specific gravity is that of distilled water--1.000°; and though, +to be sure, it upset me, three weeks back, by flying up to 1.005°, I +think that must have come from the heavy thunderstorms and floods of +rain that lately visited us and no doubt imported some ingredients +that had no business there. As for its temperature, I will select a +note or two of the observations I made with a Fahrenheit thermometer +this last year:-- + +_June 12th_.--Temperature in shade of well, 62°; of water, 51°. + +_August 25th_.--In shade of well (at noon), 73°; of water, 52°. + +_November 20th_.--In shade of well, 43°; of water, 52°. + +_January 1st_.--External air, 56°; enclosure, 53°; water, 52°. + +_March 11th_.--A bleak, sunless day. Temperature in shade of well, at +noon, 54°; water, 51°. The _Chrysosplenium Oppositiflorium_ in rich +golden bloom within the enclosure. + +But the spring has other properties besides its steady temperature. I +was early abroad in my garden last Thursday week, and in the act of +tossing a snail over my box hedge, when I heard some girls' voices +giggling, and caught a glimpse of half-a-dozen sun-bonnets gathered +about the well. Straightening myself up, I saw a group of maids +from the village, and, in the middle, one who bent over the water. +Presently she scrambled to her feet, glanced over her shoulder and +gave a shrill scream. + +I, too, looked up the lane and saw, a stone's throw off, the +schoolmaster advancing with long and nervous strides. He was furiously +angry. + +"Thomasine Slade," said he, "you are as shameless as you are +ignorant!" + +The girl tossed her chin and was silent, with a warm blush on her +cheek and a lurking imp of laughter in her eye. The schoolmaster +frowned still more darkly. + +"Shameless as well as ignorant!" he repeated, bringing the ferule of +his umbrella smartly down upon the macadam; "and you, Jane Hewitt, and +you, Lizzie Polkinghorne!" + +"Why, what's the matter?" I asked, stepping out into the road. + +At sight of me the girls broke into a peal of laughter, gathered up +their skirts and fled, still laughing, down the road. + +"What's the matter?" I asked again. + +"The matter?" echoed the schoolmaster, staring blankly after the +retreating skirts; then more angrily--"The matter? come and look +here!" He took hold of my shirt-sleeve and led me to the well. +Stooping, I saw half-a-dozen pins gleaming in its brown depths. + +"A love-charm." + +The schoolmaster nodded. + +"Thomasine Slade has been wishing for a husband. I see no sin in that. +When she looked up and saw you coming down the lane--" + +I paused. The schoolmaster said nothing. He was leaning over the well, +gloomily examining the pins. + +"--your aspect was enough to scare anyone," I wound up lamely. + +"I wish," the schoolmaster hastily began, "I wish to Heaven I had the +gift of humour! I lose my temper and grow positive. I'd kill these +stupid superstitions with ridicule, if I had the gift. It's a great +gift. My God, I do hate to be laughed at!" + +"Even by a fool?" I asked, somewhat astonished at his heat. + +"Certainly. There's no comfort in comparing the laugh of fools with +the crackling of thorns under a pot, if you happen to be inside the +pot and in process of cooking." + +He took off his hat, brushed it on the sleeve of his coat, and resumed +in a tone altogether lighter-- + +"Yes, I hate to be laughed at; and I'll tell you a tale on this point +that may amuse you at my expense. + +"I am London-bred, as you know, and still a Cockney in the grain, +though when I came down here to teach school I was just nineteen and +now I'm over forty. It was during the summer holidays that I first set +foot in this neighbourhood--a week before school re-opened. I came +early, to look for lodgings and find out a little about the people and +settle down a bit before beginning work. + +"The vicar--the late vicar, I mean--commended me to old Retallack, who +used to farm Rosemellin, up the valley, a widower and childless. His +sister, Miss Jane Ann, kept house for him, and these were the only two +souls on the premises till I came and was boarded by them for thirteen +shillings a week. For that price they gave me a bedroom, a fair-sized +sitting-room and as much as I could eat. + +"A month after my arrival, Farmer Retallack was put to bed with a +slight attack of colic. This was on a Wednesday, and on Saturday +morning Miss Jane Ann came knocking at my door with a message that the +old man would like to see me. So I went across to his room and found +him propped up in the bed with three or four pillows and looking very +yellow in the gills, though clearly convalescent. + +"'Schoolmaster,' said he, 'I've a trifling favour to beg of ye. You +give the children a half-holiday, Saturdays--hey? Well, d'ye think ye +could drive the brown hoss, Trumpeter, into Tregarrick this afternoon? +The fact is, my old friend Abe Walters, that kept the Packhorse Inn is +lying dead, and they bury 'en at half after two to-day. I'd be main +glad to show respect at the funeral and tell Mrs. Walters how much +deceased 'll be missed, ancetera; but I might so well try to fly in +the air. Now if you could attend and just pass the word that I'm on my +back with the colic, but that you've come to show respect in my place, +I'd take it very friendly of ye. There'll be lashins o' vittles an' +drink. No Walters was ever interred under a kilderkin.'" Now the fact +was, I had never driven a horse in my life and hardly knew (as they +say) a horse's head from his tail till he began to move. But that is +just the sort of ignorance no young man will readily confess to. So +I answered that I was engaged that evening. We were just organising +night-classes for the young men of the parish, and the vicar was to +open the first, with a short address, at half-past six. + +"'You'll be back in lashins o' time,' the farmer assured me. + +"This put me fairly in a corner. 'To tell you the truth,' said I, 'I'm +not accustomed to drive much.' But of course this was wickedly short +of the truth. + +"He declared that it was impossible to come to grief on the way, the +brown horse being quiet as a lamb and knowing every stone of the road. +And the end was that I consented. The brown horse was harnessed by the +farm-boy and led round with the gig while Miss Jane Ann and I were +finishing our midday meal. And I drove off alone in a black suit and +with my heart in my mouth. + +"Trumpeter, as the farmer had promised, was quiet as a lamb. He went +forward at a steady jog, and even had the good sense to quarter on +his own account for the one or two vehicles we met on the broad road. +Pretty soon I began to experiment gingerly with the reins; and by the +time we reached Tregarrick streets, was handling them with quite an +air, while observing the face of everyone I met, to make sure I +was not being laughed at. The prospect of Tregarrick Fore Street +frightened me a good deal, and there was a sharp corner to turn at the +entrance of the inn-yard. But the old horse knew his business so well +that had I pulled on one rein with all my strength I believe it would +have merely annoyed, without convincing, him. He took me into the yard +without a mistake, and I gave up the reins to the ostler, thanking +Heaven and looking careless. + +"The inn was crowded with mourners, eating and drinking and discussing +the dead man's virtues. They packed the Assembly Room at the back, +where the subscription dances are held, and the reek of hot joints was +suffocating. I caught sight of the widow Walters bustling up and down +between the long tables and shedding tears while she changed her +guests' plates. She heard my message, welcomed me with effusion, and +thrusting a plateful of roast beef under my nose, hurried away to put +on her bonnet for the funeral. + +"A fellow on my right paused with his mouth full to bid me eat. 'Thank +you,' I said, 'my only wish is to get out of this as quickly as +possible.' + +"He contemplated me for half a minute with an eye like an ox's; +remarked 'You'll be a furriner, no doubt;' and went on with his meal. + +"If the feasting was long, the funeral was longer. We sang so many +burying-tunes, and the widow so often interrupted the service to +ululate, that the town clock had struck four when I hurried back from +the churchyard to the inn, and told the ostler to put my horse in the +gig. I had little time to spare. + +"'Beg your pardon, sir,' the ostler said, 'but I'm new to this +place--only came here this day week. Which is your horse?' + +"'Oh,' I answered, 'he's a brown. Make haste, for I'm in a hurry.' + +"He went off to the stables and returned in about two minutes. + +"'There's six brown hosses in the stable, sir. Would you mind coming +and picking out yours?' + +"I followed him with a sense of impending evil. Sure enough there were +six brown horses in the big stable, and to save my life I couldn't +have told which was Trumpeter. Of any difference between horses, +except that of colour, I hadn't an idea. I scanned them all anxiously, +and felt the ostler's eye upon me. This was unbearable. I pulled out +my watch, glanced at it carelessly, and exclaimed-- + +"'By George, I'd no notion it was so early! H'm, on second thoughts, I +won't start for a few minutes yet.' + +"This was my only course--to wait until the other five owners of brown +horses had driven home. I strolled back to the inn and talked and +drank sherry, watching the crowd thin by degrees, and speeding the +lingering mourners with all my prayers. The minutes dragged on till +nothing short of a miracle could take me back in time to open the +night-class. The widow drew near and talked to me. I answered her at +random. + +"Twice I revisited the stable, and the second time found but three +horses left. I walked along behind them, murmuring, 'Trumpeter, +Trumpeter!' in the forlorn hope that one of the three brutes would +give a sign. + +"'I beg your pardon, sir,' said the ostler; 'were you saying +anything?' + +"'No--nothing,' said I, and luckily he was called away at this moment +to the further end of the stable. 'Oh,' sighed I, 'for Xanthus, horse +of Achilles!' + +"I felt inclined to follow and confide my difficulty to the ostler, +but reflected that this wouldn't help me in the least: whereas, if +I applied to a fellow-guest, he must (if indeed he could give the +information) expose my previous hypocrisy to the ostler. After all, +the company was dwindling fast. I went back and consumed more sherry +and biscuits. + +"By this six o'clock had gone, and no more than a dozen guests +remained. One of these was my bovine friend, my neighbour at the +funeral banquet, who now accosted me as I struggled with a biscuit. + +"'So you've got over your hurry. Glad to find ye settlin' down so +quick to our hearty ways.' + +"He shook hands with the widow and sauntered out. Ten more minutes +passed and now there were left only the widow herself and a trio of +elderly men, all silent. As I hung about, trying to look unbounded +sympathy at the group, it dawned upon me that they were beginning to +eye me uneasily. I took a sponge cake and another glass of wine. One +of the men--who wore a high stock and an edging of stiff grey hair +around his bald head--advanced to me. + +"'This funeral,' said he, 'is over.' + +"'Yes, yes,' I stammered, and choked over a sip of sherry. + +"'We are waiting--let me tap you on the back--' + +"'Thank you.' + +"'We are waiting to read the will.' + +"I escaped from the room and rushed down to the stables. The ostler +was harnessing the one brown horse that remained. + +"I was thinking you wouldn't be long, sir. You're the very last, I +believe, and here ends a long day's work.' + +"I drove off. It was near seven by this, but I didn't even think of +the night-class. I was wondering if the horse I drove were really +Trumpeter. Somehow--whether because his feed of corn pricked him or no +I can't say--he seemed a deal livelier than on the outward journey. I +looked at him narrowly in the twilight, and began to feel sure it was +another horse. In spite of the cool air a sweat broke out upon me. + +"Farmer Retallack was up and dressed and leaning on a stick in the +doorway as I turned into the yard. + +"'I've been that worried about ye,' he began, 'I couldn't stay abed. +Parson's been up twice from the schoolhouse to make inquiries. Where +in the name o' goodness have 'ee been?' + +"'That's a long story,' said I, and then, feigning to speak +carelessly, though I heard my heart go thump--'How d'ye think +Trumpeter looks after the journey?' + +"'Oh, _he's_ all right,' the old man replied indifferently; 'but come +along in to supper.' + +"Now, my dear sir"--the schoolmaster thus concluded his tale, +tucking his umbrella tightly under his armpit, and tapping his right +forefinger on the palm of his left hand--"these pagans whom I teach +are as sensitive as I to ridicule. If I only knew how to take them--if +only I could lay my finger on the weak spot--I'd send their whole +fabric of silly superstitions tumbling like a house of cards." + +This happened last Thursday week. Early this morning I crossed the +road as usual with my thermometer, and found a strip of pink calico +hanging from the brambles by the mouth of Scarlet's Well. I had seen +the pattern before on a gown worn by one of the villager's wives, and +knew the rag was a votive offering, hung there because her child, who +has been ailing all the winter, is now strong enough to go out into +the sunshine. As I bent the bramble carefully aside, before stooping +over the water, Lizzie Polkinghorne came up the lane and halted behind +me. + +"Have 'ee heard the news?" she asked. + +"No." I turned round, thermometer in hand. + +"Why, Thomasine Slade's goin' to marry the schoolmaster! Their banns +'ll be called first time nest Sunday." + +We looked at each other, and she broke into a shout of laughter. +Lizzie's laugh is irresistible. + + +II.--SILHOUETTES. + +The small rotund gentleman who had danced and spun all the way to +Gantick village from the extreme south of France, and had danced and +smiled and blown his flageolet all day in Gantick Street without +conciliating its population in the least, was disgusted. Towards dusk +he crossed the stile which divides Sanctuary Lane from the churchyard, +and pausing with a leg on either side of the rail, shook his fist back +at the village which lay below, its grey roofs and red chimneys just +distinguishable here and there between a foamy sea of apple-blossom +and a haze of bluish smoke. He could not well shake its dust off his +feet, for this was hardly separable on his boots from the dust of many +other villages, and also it was mostly mud. But his gesture betokened +extreme rancour. + +"These Cor-rnishmen," he said, "are pigs all! There is not a +Cor-rnishman that is not a big pig!" + +He lifted the second leg wearily over the rail. + +"As for Art--" + +"Words failed him here, and he spat upon the ground, adding-- + +"Moreover, they shut up their churches!" + +This was really a serious matter; for he had not a penny-piece in his +pocket--the last had gone to buy a loaf--and there was no lodging to +be had in the village. The month was April--a bad time to sleep in +the open; and though the night drew in tranquilly upon a day of broad +sunshine, the earth had by no means sucked down the late heavy rains. +The church porch, however, had a broad bench on either side and faced +the south, away from the prevailing wind. He had made a mental note of +this early in the day, being schooled to anticipate such straits as +the present. While, with a gait like a limping hare's, he passed up +the narrow path between the graves, his eyes were busy. + +The churchyard was narrow and surrounded by a high grey wall, mostly +hidden by an inner belt of well-grown cypresses. On the south side the +ranks of these trees were broken for some thirty feet, and here the +back of a small dwelling-house abutted on the cemetery. There was one +window only in the yellow-washed wall, and this window--a melancholy +square framed in moss-stained plaster--looked straight into the church +porch. The flageolet-player eyed it suspiciously; but the casement +was shut and the blind drawn down. The whole aspect of the cottage +proclaimed that its inhabitants were very poor folk--not at all the +sort to tell tales upon a casual tramp if they spied him bivouacking +upon holy ground. + +He limped into the porch, and cast off the blue bag that was strapped +upon his shoulders. Out of it he drew a sheep's-wool cape, worn very +thin; and then turned the bag inside out, on the chance of a forgotten +crust. The disappointment that followed he took calmly--being on the +whole a sweet-tempered man, nor easily angered except by an affront on +his vanity. His violent rancour against the people of Gantick +arose from their indifference to his playing. Had they taken him +seriously--had they even run out at their doors to listen and +stare--he would not have minded their stinginess. + +He who sleeps, sups. The little man passed the flat of his hand, +in the dusk, over the two benches, chose the one which had fewest +asperities of surface, tossed his bag and flageolet upon the other, +pulled off his boots, folded his cape to make a pillow, and stretched +himself at length. In less than ten minutes he was sleeping +dreamlessly. + +For four hours he slept without movement. But just above his head +there hung a baize-covered board containing a list or two of the +parish ratepayers and the usual notice of the spring training of the +Royal Cornwall Eangers Militia. This last placard had broken from two +of its fastenings, and towards midnight flapped loudly in an eddy of +the light wind. The sleeper stirred, and passed a languid hand over +his face. A spider within the porch had been busy while he slept, and +his hand encountered gossamer. + +His eyes opened. He sat upright, and lowered his bare feet upon +the flags. Outside, the blue firmament was full of stars sparkling +unevenly, as though the wind were trying in sport to puff them out. +In the eaves of the porch he could hear the martins rustling in the +crevices--they had returned but a few days back to their old quarters. +But what drew the man to step out under the sky was the cottage-window +over the wall. + +The lattice was pushed back and the room inside was brightly lit. But +between him and the lamp a white sheet had been stretched right across +the window; and on this sheet two quick hands were weaving all kinds +of clever shadows, shaping them, moving them, or reshaping them with +the speed of summer lightning. + +It was certainly a remarkable performance. The shadows took the forms +of rabbits, swans, foxes, elephants, fairies, sailors with wooden +legs, old women who smoked pipes, ballet-girls who pirouetted, anglers +who bobbed for fish, twirling harlequins, and the profiles of eminent +statesmen--all made with two hands and, at the most, the help of a +tiny stick or piece of string. They danced and capered, grew large +and then small, with such profusion of odd turns and changes that the +flageolet-player began to giggle as he wondered. He remarked that the +hands, whenever they were disentwined for a moment, appeared to be +very small and plump. + +In about ten minutes the display ceased, and the shadow of a woman's +head and neck crossed the sheet, which was presently drawn back at one +corner. + +"Is that any better?" asked a woman's voice, low but distinct. + +The flageolet-player started and bent his eyes lower, across the +graves and into the shadow beneath the window. For the first time he +was aware of a figure standing there, a little way out from the wall. +As well as he could see, it was a young boy. + +"Much better, mother. You can't think how you've improved at it this +week." + +"Any mistakes?" + +"The harlequin and columbine seemed a little jerky. But your hands +were tired, I know." + +"Never mind that: they mustn't be tired and it's got to be perfect. +We'll try them again." + +She was about to drop the corner of the sheet when the listener sprang +out towards the window, leaping with bare feet over the graves and +waving his flageolet wildly. + +"Ah, no--no, madame!" he cried. "Wait one moment, the littlest, and I +shall inspire you." + +"Whoever is that?" cried the woman's voice at the window. + +The youth below faced round on the intruder. He was white in the face +and had wanted to run, but mastered his voice and enquired gruffly-- + +"Who the devil are you?" + +"I? I am an artist, and as such I salute madame and monsieur her son. +She is greater artist than I, but I shall help her. They shall dance +better this time, her harlequin and columbine. Why? Because they shall +dance to my music--the music that I shall make here, on this spot, +under the stars. _Tiens!_ I shall play as if possessed. I feel that. I +bet you. It is because I have found an artist--an artist in Gantick. +O-my-good-lor! It makes me expand!" + +He had pulled off his greasy hat, and stood bowing and smiling, +showing his white teeth and holding up his flageolet, that the woman +might see and be convinced. + +"That's all very well," said the boy; "but my mother doesn't want it +known that she practises at these shadows." + +"Ha? It is perhaps forbidden by law?" + +"Since you have found us out, sir," said the woman, "I will tell you +why we are behaving like this, and trust you to tell nobody. I have +been left a widow, in great poverty, and with this one son, who must +be educated as well as his father was. Richard is a promising boy, and +cannot be satisfied to stand lower in the world than his father stood. +His father was an auctioneer. But we are left very poor--poor as mice: +and how was I to get him better teaching than the Board Schools here? +Well, six months ago, when sadly perplexed, I found out by chance that +this small gift of mine might earn me a good income in London, at--at +a music-hall--" + +"Mother!" interjected the youth reprovingly. + +"Pursue, madame," said the flageolet-player. + +"Of course, sir, Richard doesn't like or approve of me performing at +such places, but he agrees with me that it is necessary. So we are +hiding it from everybody in the village, because we have always been +respected here. We never guessed that anybody would see us from the +churchyard, of all places, at this time of night. As soon as I have +practised enough, we mean to travel up to London. Of course I shall +change my name to something French or Italian, and hope nobody will +discover--" + +But the flageolet-player sat suddenly down upon a damp grave, and +broke into hysterical laughter. + +"Oh-oh-oh! Quick, madame! dance your pretty figures while yet I laugh +and before I curse. O stars and planets, look down on this mad world, +and help me play! And, O monsieur, your pardon if I laugh; for that +either you or I are mad is a cock-sure. Dance, madame!" + +He put the flageolet to his lips and blew. In a moment or two +harlequin and columbine appeared on the screen, and began to caper +nimbly, naturally, with the airiest graces. The tune was a jigging +reel, and soon began to inspire the performer above. Her small dancers +in a twinkling turned into a gambolling elephant, then to a pair +of swallows. A moment after they were flower and butterfly, then +a jigging donkey, then harlequin and columbine again. With each +fantastic change the tune quickened and the dance grew wilder. At +length, tired out, the woman spread her hands out wide against the +sheet, as if imploring mercy. + +The player tossed his flageolet over a headstone, and rolled back on +the grave in a paroxysm of laughter. Above him the rooks had poured +out of their nests, and were cawing in flustered circles. + +"Monsieur," he gasped out, sitting up and wiping his eyes, "was it +good this time?" + +"Yes, it was." + +"Then could you spare from the house one little crust of bread? For I +am famished." + +The youth went round the churchyard wall, and came back in a couple of +minutes with some bread and cold bacon. + +"Of course," said he, "if you should meet either of us in the village +to-morrow, you will not recognise us." + +The little man bowed. "I agree," said he, "with your mother, monsieur, +that you must be educated at all costs." + + + + +THE DRAWN BLIND. + + +Silver trumpets sounded a flourish, and the javelin-men came pacing +down Tregarrick Fore Street, with the sheriff's coach swinging behind +them, its panels splendid with fresh blue paint and florid blazonry. +Its wheels were picked out with yellow, and this scheme of colour +extended to the coachman and the two lackeys, who held on at the back +by leathern straps. Each wore a coat and breeches of electric +blue, with a canary waistcoat, and was toned off with powder and +flesh-coloured stockings at the extremities. Within the coach, and +facing the horses, sat the two judges of the Crown Court and _Nisi +Prius_, both in scarlet, with full wigs and little round patches of +black plaister, like ventilators, on top; facing their lordships sat +Sir Felix Felix-Williams, the sheriff, in a tightish uniform of the +yeomanry with a great shako nodding on his knees, and a chaplain bolt +upright by his side. Behind trooped a rabble of loafers and small +boys, who shouted, "Who bleeds bran?" till the lackeys' calves itched +with indignation. + +I was standing in the archway of the Packhorse Inn, among the maids +and stable-boys gathered to see the pageant pass on its way to hear +the Assize sermon. And standing there, I was witness of a little +incident that seemed to escape the rest. + +At the moment when the trumpets rang out, a very old woman, in a blue +camlet cloak, came hobbling out of a grocer's shop some twenty yards +up the pavement, and tottered down ahead of the procession as fast as +her decrepit legs would move. There was no occasion for hurrying to +avoid the crowd; for the javelin-men had barely rounded the corner +of the long street, and were taking the goosestep very seriously +and deliberately. But she went by the Packhorse doorway as if swift +horsemen were after her, clutching the camlet cloak across her bosom, +glancing over her shoulder, and working her lips inaudibly. I could +not help remarking the position of her right arm. She held it bent +exactly as though she held an infant to her old breast, and shielded +it while she ran. + +A few paces beyond the inn-door she halted on the edge of the kerb, +flung another look up the street, and darted across the roadway. There +stood a little shop--a watchmaker's--just opposite, and next to the +shop a small ope with one dingy window over it. She vanished up the +passage, at the entrance of which I was still staring idly, when, half +a minute later, a skinny trembling hand appeared at the window and +drew down the blind. + +I looked round at the men and maids; but their eyes were all for the +pageant, now not a stone's-throw away. + +"Who is that old woman?" I asked, touching Caleb, the head ostler, on +the shoulder. + +Caleb--a small bandy-legged man, with a chin full of furrows, and the +furrows full of grey stubble--withdrew his gaze grudgingly from the +sheriff's coach. + +"What woman?" + +"She that went by a moment since." + +"She in the blue cloak, d'ee mean?--an old, ancient, wisht-lookin' +body?" + +"Yes." + +"A timmersome woman, like?" + +"That's it." + +"Well, her name's Cordely Pinsent." + +The procession reclaimed his attention. He received a passing wink +from the charioteer, caught it on the volley and returned it with a +solemn face; or rather, the wink seemed to rebound as from a blank +wall. As the crowd closed in upon the circumstance of Justice, he +turned to me again, spat, and went on-- + +"--Cordely Pinsent, widow of old Key Pinsent, that was tailor to +all the grandees in the county so far back as I can mind. She's +eighty-odd; eighty-five if a day. I can just mind Key Pinsent--a +great, red, rory-cumtory chap, with a high stock and a wig like King +George--'my royal patron' he called 'en, havin' by some means got +leave to hoist the king's arms over his door. Such mighty portly +manners, too--Oh, very spacious, I assure 'ee! Simme I can see the old +Trojan now, with his white weskit bulgin' out across his doorway like +a shop-front hung wi' jewels. Gout killed 'en. I went to his buryin'; +such a stretch of experience does a young man get by time he reaches +my age. God bless your heart alive, _I_ can mind when they were hung +for forgery!" + +"Who were hung?" + +"People," he answered vaguely; "and young Willie Pinsent." + +"This woman's son?" + +"Ay, her son--her ewe-lamb of a child. 'Tis very seldom brought up +agen her now, poor soul! She's so very old that folks forgits about +it. Do 'ee see her window yonder, over the ope?" + +He was pointing across to the soiled white blind that still looked +blankly over the street, its lower edge caught up at one corner by a +dusty geranium. + +"I saw her pull it down." + +"Ah, you would if you was lookin' that way. I've a-seed her do 't a +score o' times. Well, when the gout reached Key Pinsent's stomach and +he went off like the snuff of a candle at the age of forty-two, she +was left unprovided, with a son of thirteen to maintain or go 'pon the +parish. She was a Menhennick, tho', from t'other side o' the Duchy--a +very proud family--and didn't mean to dip the knee to nobody, and all +the less because she'd demeaned hersel', to start with, by wedding a +tailor. But Key Pinsent by all allowance was handsome as blazes, and +well-informed up to a point that he read Shakespeare for the mere +pleasure o't. + +"Well, she sold up the stock-in-trade an' hired a couple o' rooms--the +self-same rooms you see: and then she ate less 'n a mouse an' took in +needle-work, plain an' fancy: for a lot o' the gentry's wives round +the neighbourhood befriended her--though they had to be sly an' hide +that they meant it for a favour, or she'd ha' snapped their heads off. +An' all the while, she was teachin' her boy and tellin' 'en, whatever +happened, to remember he was a gentleman, an' lovin' 'en with all the +strength of a desolate woman. + +"This Willie Pinsent was a comely boy, too: handsome as old Key, an' +quick at his books. He'd a bold masterful way, bein' proud as ever his +mother was, an' well knowin' there wasn' his match in Tregarrick for +head-work. Such a beautiful hand he wrote! When he was barely turned +sixteen they gave 'en a place in Gregory's Bank--Wilkins an' Gregory +it was in those aged times. He still lived home wi' his mother, +rentin' a room extra out of his earnin's, and turnin' one of the +bedrooms into a parlour. That's the very room you're lookin' at. And +when any father in Tregarrick had a bone to pick with his sons, he'd +advise 'em to take example by young Pinsent--'so clever and good, too, +there was no tellin' what he mightn't come to in time.' + +"Well-a-well, to cut it short, the lad was too clever. It came out, +after, that he'd took to bettin' his employers' money agen the rich +men up at the Royal Exchange. An' the upshot was that one evenin', +while he was drinkin' tea with his mother in his lovin' light-hearted +way, in walks a brace o' constables, an' says, 'William Pinsent, +young chap, I arrest thee upon a charge o' counterfeitin' old +Gregory's handwritin', which is a hangin' matter!' + +"An' now, sir, comes the cur'ous part o' the tale; for, if you'll +believe me, this poor woman wouldn' listen to it--wouldn' hear a word +o't. 'What! my son Willie,' she flames, hot as Lucifer--'my son Willie +a forger! My boy, that I've missed, an' reared up, an' studied, +markin' all his pretty takin' ways since he learn'd to crawl! +Gentlemen,' she says, standin' up an' facin' 'em down, 'what mother +knows her son, if not I? I give you my word it's all a mistake.' + +"Ay, an' she would have it no other. While her son was waitin' his +trial in jail, she walked the streets with her head high, scornin' the +folk as she passed. Not a soul dared to speak pity; an' one afternoon, +when old Gregory hissel' met her and began to mumble that 'he +trusted,' an' 'he had little doubt,' an' 'nobody would be gladder than +he if it proved to be a mistake,' she held her skirt aside an' went by +with a look that turned 'en to dirt, as he said. 'Gad!' said he, 'she +couldn' ha' looked at me worse if I'd been a tab!' meanin' to say +'instead o' the richest man in Tregarrick.' + +"But her greatest freak was seen when th' Assizes came. Sir, she +wouldn' even go to the trial. She disdained it. An' when, that +mornin', the judges had driven by her window, same as they drove +to-day, what d'ee think she did? + +"She began to lay the cloth up in the parlour yonder, an' there set +out the rarest meal, ready for her boy. There was meats, roasted +chickens, an' a tongue, an' a great ham. There was cheese-cakes that +she made after a little secret of her own; an' a bowl of junket, +an inch deep in cream, that bein' his pet dish; an' all kind o' +knick-knacks, wi' grapes an' peaches, an' apricots, an' decanters o' +wine, white an' red. Ay, sir, there was even crackers for mother an' +son to pull together, with scraps o' poetry inside. An' flowers--the +table was bloomin' with flowers. For weeks she'd been plannin' it: an' +all the forenoon she moved about an' around that table, givin' it +a touch here an' a touch there, an' takin' a step back to see how +beautiful it looked. An' then, as the day wore on, she pulled a chair +over by the window, an' sat down, an' waited. + +"In those days a capital trial was kept up till late into the night, +if need were. By-an'-by she called up her little servin' gal that was +then (she's a gran'mother now), an' sends her down to the court-house +to learn how far the trial had got, an' run back with the news. + +"Down runs Selina Mary, an' back with word-- + +"'They're a-summin'-up,' says she. + +"Then Mrs. Pinsent went an' lit eight candles. Four she set 'pon the +table, an' four 'pon the mantel-shelf. You could see the blaze out +in the street, an' the room lit up, wi' the flowers, an' fruit, an' +shinin' glasses--red and yellow dahlias the flowers were, that bein' +the time o' year. An' over each candle she put a little red silk +shade. You never saw a place look cosier. Then she went back an' +waited: but in half-an-hour calls to Selina Mary agen: + +"'Selina Mary, run you back to the courthouse, an' bring word how far +they've got.' + +"So the little slip of a maid ran back, and this time 'twas-- + +"'Missis, the judge has done; an' now they're considerin' about Master +Willie.' + +"So the poor woman sat a while longer, an' then she calls: + +"'Selina Mary, run down agen, an' as he comes out, tell 'en to hurry. +They must be finished by now.' + +"The maid was gone twenty minutes this time. The evenin' was hot an' +the window open; an' now all the town that wasn' listenin' to the +trial was gathered in front, gazin' cur'ously at the woman inside. She +was tittivatin' the table for the fiftieth time, an' touchin' up the +flowers that had drooped a bit i' the bowls. + +"But after twenty minutes Selina Mary came runnin' up the street, an' +fetched her breath at the front door, and went upstairs slowly and +'pon tip-toe. Her face at the parlour door was white as paper; an' +while she stood there the voices o' the crowd outside began to take +all one tone, and beat into the room like the sound o' waves 'pon a +beach. + +"'Oh, missis--' she begins. + +"'Have they finished?' + +"The poor cheald was only able to nod. + +"'Then, where's Willie? Why isn't he here?' + +"'Oh, missis, they're goin' to hang 'en!' + +"Mrs. Pinsent moved across the room, took her by the arm, led her +downstairs, an' gave her a little push out into the street. Not a word +did she say, but shut the door 'pon her, very gentle-like. Then she +went back an' pulled the blind down slowly. The crowd outside watched +her do it. Her manner was quite ord'nary. They stood there for a +minute or so, an' behind the blind the eight candles went out, one by +one. By the time the judges passed homeward 'twas all dark, only the +blind showin' white by the street lamp opposite. From that year to +this she has pulled it down whenever a judge drives by." + + + + +A GOLDEN WEDDING. + + +On the very spot which the railway station has usurped, with its long +slate roof, wooden signal-box, and advertisements in blue and white +enamel, I can recall a still pool shining between beds of the +flowering rush; and to this day, as I wait for the train, the whir of +a vanished water-wheel comes up the valley. Sometimes I have caught +myself gazing along the curve of the narrow-gauge in full expectation +to see a sagged and lichen-covered roof at the end of it. And +sometimes, of late, it has occurred to me that there never was such a +mill as I used to know down yonder; and that the miller, whose coat +was always powdered so fragrantly, was but a white ghost, after all. +The station-master and porters remember no such person. + +But he was no ghost; for I have met him again this week, and upon the +station platform. I had started at daybreak to fish up the stream +that runs down the valley in curves roughly parallel to the railway +embankment; and coming within sight of the station, a little before +noon, I put up my tackle and strolled towards the booking-office. The +water was much too fine for sport, and it seemed worth while to break +off for a pipe and a look at the 12.26 train. Such are the simple +pleasures of a country life. + +I leant my rod against the wall, and was setting down my creel, when, +glancing down the platform, I saw an old man seated on the furthest +bench. Everybody knows how a passing event, or impression, sometimes +appears but a vain echo of previous experience. Something in the lines +of this old man's figure, as he leaned forward with both hands clasped +upon his staff, gave me the sensation. "All this has happened before," +I told myself. "He and I are playing over again some small and futile +scene in our past lives. I wonder who he is, and what is the use of +it?" + +But there was something wanting in the picture to complete its +resemblance to the scene for which I searched my memory. + +The man had bent further forward, and was resting his chin on his +hands and staring apathetically across the rails. Suddenly it dawned +on me that there ought to be another figure on the bench--the figure +of an old woman; and my memory ran back to the day after this railway +was opened, when this man and his wife had sat together on the +platform waiting to see the train come in--that fascinating monster +whose advent had blotted out the very foundations of the old mill and +driven its tenants to a strange home. + +The mill had disappeared many months before that, but the white dust +still hung in the creases of the miller's clothes. He wore his Sunday +hat and the Sunday polish on his shoes; and his wife was arrayed in +her best Paisley shawl. She carried also a bunch of cottage flowers, +withering in her large hot hand. It was clear they had never seen a +locomotive before, and wished to show it all respect. They had taken +a smaller house in the next valley, where they attempted to live on +their savings; and had been trying vainly and pitifully to struggle +with all the little habits that had been their life for thirty-five +years, and to adapt them to new quarters. Their faces were weary, +but flushed with expectation. The man kept looking up the line, and +declaring that he heard the rumble of the engine in the distance; and +whenever he said this, his wife pulled the shawl more primly about her +shoulders, straightened her back, and nervously re-arranged her posy. + +When at length the whistle screamed out, at the head of the vale, I +thought they were going to tumble off the bench. The woman went white +to the lips, and stole her disengaged hand into her husband's. + +"Startlin' at first, hey?" he said, bravely winning back his +composure: "but 'tis wunnerful what control the driver has, they tell +me. They only employ the cleverest men--" + +A rattle and roar drowned the rest of his words, and he blinked and +leant back, holding the woman's hand and tapping it softly as the +engine rushed down with a blast of white vapour hissing under its fore +wheels, and the carriages clanked upon each other, and the whole train +came to a standstill before us. + +The station-master and porter walked down the line of carriages, +bawling out the name of the station. The driver leaned out over his +rail, and the guard, standing by the door of his van, with a green +flag under his arm, looked enquiringly at me and at the old couple on +the bench. But I had only strolled up to have a look at the new train, +and meant to resume my fishing as soon as it had passed. And the +miller sat still, holding his wife's hand. + +They were staring with all their eyes--not resentfully, though face to +face with the enemy that had laid waste their habitation and swept all +comfort out of their lives; but with a simple awe. Manifestly, too, +they expected something more to happen. I saw the old woman searching +the incurious features of the few passengers, and I thought her own +features expressed some disappointment. + +"This," observed the guard scornfully, pulling out his watch as he +spoke, "is what you call traffic in these parts." + +The station-master was abashed, and forced a deprecatory laugh. The +guard--who was an up-country man--treated this laugh with contempt, +and blew his whistle sharply. The driver answered, and the train moved +on. + +I was gazing after it when a woeful exclamation drew my attention back +to the bench. + +"Why, 'tis gone!" + +"Gone?" echoed the miller's wife. "Of course 'tis gone; and of all the +dilly-dallyin' men, I must say, John, you'm the dilly-dalliest. Why +didn' you say we wanted to ride?" + +"I thought, maybe, they'd have axed us. 'Twouldn' ha' been polite to +thrust oursel's forrard if they didn' want our company. Besides, I +thought they'd be here for a brave while--" + +"You was always a man of excuses. You knew I'd set my heart 'pon this +feat." + +I had left them to patch up their little quarrel. But the scene stuck +in my memory, and now, as I walked down the platform towards the +single figure on the bench, I wondered, amusedly, if the woman had at +length taken the ride alone, and if the procrastinating husband sat +here to welcome her back. + +As I drew near, I took note of his clothes for the first time. +There was no white dust in the creases to-day. In fact, he wore the +workhouse suit. + +I sat down beside him, and asked if he remembered a certain small boy +who had used to draw dace out of his mill-pond. With some difficulty +he recalled my features, and by decrees let out the story of his life +during the last ten years. + +He and his wife had fought along in their new house, hiding their +discomfort from each other, and abiding the slow degrees by which +their dwelling should change into a home. But before that change was +worked, the woman fell under a paralytic stroke, and their savings, on +which they had just contrived to live, threatened to be swallowed up +by the doctor's bill. After considering long, the miller wrote off to +his only son, a mechanic in the Plymouth Dockyard, and explained the +case. This son was a man of forty or thereabouts, was married, and had +a long family. He could not afford to take the invalid into his house +for nothing; but his daughters would look after their grandmother and +she should have good medical care as well, if she came on a small +allowance. + +"So the only thing to be done, sir, was for my old woman to go." + +"And you--?" + +"Oh, I went into the 'House.' You see, there wasn' enough for both, +livin' apart." + +I stared down the line to the spot where the mill-wheel had hummed +so pleasantly, and the compassionate sentence I was about to utter +withered up and died on my lips. + +"But to-day--Oh, to-day, sir--" + +"What's happening to-day?" + +"She's comin' down to see me for an hour or two; an' I've got a +holiday to meet her. 'Tis our Golden Weddin', sir." + +"But why are you meeting her at this station instead of Tregarrick? +She can't walk, and you have no horse and trap; whereas there's always +a 'bus at Tregarrick." + +"Well, you see, sir, there's a very tidy little cottage below where +they sell ginger-beer, an' I've got a whack o' vittles in the basket +here, besides what William is bringin'--William an' his wife are +comin' down with her. They'll take her back by the last train up; an' +I thought, as 'twas so little a while, an' the benches here are so +comfortable, we'd pass our day 'pon the platform here. 'Tis within +sight o' the old home, too, or ruther o' the spot where the old home +used to be: an' though 'tis little notice she seems to take o' things, +one never can tell if poor creatures in that state _hain't_ pleased +behind all their dazed looks. What do you think, sir?" + +The whistle sounded up the valley, and mercifully prevented my answer. +I saw the woman for an instant as she was brought out of the train and +carried to the bench. She did not recognise the man she had married +fifty years before: but as we moved out of the station, he was sitting +beside her, his face transfigured with a solemn joy. + + + + +SCHOOL FRIENDS. + + +"What ho, there!" + +At this feudal summons I turned, and spied the Bashaw elbowing his way +towards me through the Fleet Street crowd, his hat and tie askew and +his big face a red beacon of goodwill. He fell on my neck, and we +embraced. + +"Is me recreant child returned? Is he tired at last av annihilatin' +all that's made to a green thought in a green shade? An' did he +homesickun by the Cornish Coast for the Street that Niver Sleeps, +an' the whirroo an' stink av her, an' the _foomum et opase +strepitumké_--to drink delight av battle with his peers, an' see the +great Achilles whom he knew--meanin' meself?" The Bashaw's style in +conversation, as in print, bristles with allusion. + +I shook my head. + +"I go back to-morrow, I hope. Business brought me up, and as soon as +it's settled I pack." + +"Too quick despairer--but I take it ye'll be bound just now for the +Cheese. Right y'are; and I'll do meself the honour to lunch wid ye, at +your expense." + +Everyone knows and loves the Bashaw, _alias_ the O'Driscoll, that +genial failure. Generations of Fleet Street youths have taken advice +and help from him: have prospered, grown reputable, rich, and even +famous: and have left him where he stood. Nobody can remember the time +when O'Driscoll was not; though, to judge from his appearance, he must +have stepped upon the town from between the covers of an illustrated +keepsake, such as our grandmothers loved--so closely he resembles the +Corsair of that period, with his ripe cheeks, melting eyes, and black +curls that twist like the young tendrils of a vine. The curls are +dyed now-a-days, and his waist is not what it used to be in the +picture-books; but time has worn nothing off his temper. He is +perennially enthusiastic, and can still beat any journalist in London +in describing a Lord Mayor's Show. + +"You behould in me," he went on, with a large hand on my shoulder, +"the victum av a recent eviction--a penniless outcast. 'Tis no +beggar's petition that I'll be profferin', however, but a bargun. Give +me a salad, a pint av hock, an' fill me pipe wid the Only Mixture, +an' I'll repay ye across the board wid a narrative--the sort av +God-forsaken, ord'nary thrifle that you youngsters turn into copy--may +ye find forgiveness! 'Tis no use to me whatever. Ted O'Driscoll's +instrument was iver the big drum, and he knows his limuts." + +"Yes, me boy," he resumed, five minutes later, as he sat in the +Cheshire Cheese, beneath Dr. Johnson's portrait, balancing a +black-handled knife between his first and second fingers, and nodding +good-fellowship to every journalist in the room, "the apartment in +Bloomsbury is desolut; the furnichur'--what was lift av ut--disparsed; +the leopard an' the lizard keep the courts where O'Driscoll gloried +an' drank deep; an' the wild ass--meanin' by that the midical student +on the fourth floor--stamps overhead, but cannot break his sleep. I've +been evicted: that's the long and short av ut. Lord help me!--I'd have +fared no worse in the ould country--here's to her! Think what immortal +copy I'd have made out av the regrettable incident over there!" His +voice broke, but not for self-pity. It always broke when he mentioned +Ireland. + +"Is it comfort ye'd be speakin'?" he began again, filling his glass. +"Me dear fellow, divvle a doubt I'll fetch round tight an' safe. Ould +Mick Sullivan--he that built the _Wild Girl_, the fastest vessel that +iver put out av Limerick--ould Mick Sullivan used to swear he'd make +any ship seaworthy that didn' leak worse than a five-barred gate. An' +that's me, more or less. I'm an ould campaigner. But listen to this. +Me feelin's have been wrung this day, and that sorely. I promised ye +the story, an' I must out wid ut, whether or no." + +It was the hour when the benches of the Cheese begin to empty. My work +was over for the day, and I disposed myself to listen. + +"The first half I spent at the acadimy where they flagellated the +rudiments av polite learnin' into me small carcuss, I made a friend. +He was the first I iver made, though not the last, glory be to God! +But first friendship is like first love for the sweet taste it puts in +the mouth. Niver but once in his life will a man's heart dance to that +chune. 'Twas a small slip of a Saxon lad that it danced for then: a +son av a cursed agint, that I should say it. But sorra a thought had I +for the small boccawn's nationality nor for his own father's trade. +I only knew the friendship in his pretty eyes an' the sweetness that +knit our two sowls togither, like David's an' Jonathan's. Pretty it +was to walk togither, an' discourse, an' get the strap togither for +heaven knows what mischief, an' consowl each other for our broken +skins. He'd a wonderful gift at his books, for which I reverenced um, +and at the single-stick, for which I loved um. Niver to this day did +I call up the ould play-ground widout behowldin' that one boy, though +all the rest av the faces (the master's included) were vague as +wather--wather in which that one pair av eyes was reflected. + +"The school was a great four-square stone buildin' beside a windy +road, and niver a tree in sight; but pastures where the grass would +cut your boot, an' stone walls, an' brown hills around, like the rim +av a saucer. All belonged to the estate that Jemmy Nichol's father +managed--a bankrupt property, or next door to that. It's done better +since he gave up the place; but when I've taken a glance at the +landscape since (as I have, once or twice) I see no difference. To me +'tis the naked land I looked upon the last day av the summer half, +when I said good-bye to Jemmy; for he was lavin' the school that same +afternoon for Dublin, to cross over to England wid his father. + +"Sick at heart was I, an' filled already wid the heavy sense of +solitariness, as we stood by the great iron gate wishin' one another +fare-ye-well. + +"'Jemmy avick,' says I, 'dull, dull will it be widout ye here. And, +Jemmy--send some av my heart back to me when ye write, as ye promise +to do.' + +"'Wheniver I lay me down, Ned,' he answered me (though by nature a +close-hearted English boy), 'I'll think o' ye; an' wheniver I rise up +I'll think o' ye. May the Lord do so to me, an' more also, if I cease +from lovin' ye till my life's end.' + +"So we kissed like a pair av girls, and off he was driven, leavin' a +great hollow inside the rim av the hills. An' I ran up to the windy +dormitory, stumblin' at ivery third step for the blindin' tears, and +watched um from the window there growin' small along the road. 'Ye +Mountains av Gilboa,' said I, shakin' my fist at the hills, 'let there +be no dew, neither let there be rain upon ye;' for I hated the place +now that Jemmy was gone. + +"Well, 'twas the ould story--letters at first in plenty, then fewer, +then none at all. Long before I came over to try my luck I'd lost all +news of Jem: didn't know his address, even. Nor till to-day have I set +eyes on um. He's bald-headed, me boy, and crooked-faytured, to-day; +but I knew him for Jemmy in the first kick av surprise. + +"I was evicted this mornin', as I've towld ye. Six years I've hung me +hat up in those same apartments in Bloomsbury; and, till last year, +aisy enough I found me landlord over a quarter's rent or two overjue. +But last midsummer year the house changed hands; and bedad it began to +be 'pay or quit.' This day it was 'quit.' The new landlord came up the +stairs at the head av the ejectin' army: I got up from breakfast to +open the door to um. I'd never set eyes on um since I'd been his +tenant. Bedad, it was Jemmy!" + +O'Driscoll paused, and poured himself another glass of hock. + +"So I suppose," I said, "you ran into each other's arms, and kissed +again with tears?" + +"Then you suppose wrong," said he, and sat for a moment or two silent, +fingering the stem of his glass. Then he added, more gently-- + +"I looked in the face av um, and said to meself, 'Jemmy doesn't +remember me. If I introduce meself, I wonder what'll he do? Will he +love me still, or will he turn me out?' An' by the Lord I didn't care +to risk ut! I couldn't dare to lose that last illusion; an' so I put +on me hat an' walked out, tellin' him nothing at all." + + + + +PARENTS AND CHILDREN. + + +I.--THE FAMILY BIBLE + +There lived a young man at Tregarrick called Robert Haydon. His father +was not a native of the town, but had settled there early in life and +became the leading solicitor of the place. At the age of thirty-seven +he married the daughter of a county magistrate, and by this step +bettered his position considerably. By the time that Robert was born +his parents' standing was very satisfactory. They were living well +inside an income of £1,200 a year, had about £8,000 (consisting +of Mrs. Haydon's dowry and Mr. Haydon's bachelor savings) safely +invested, and were on visiting terms with several of the lesser county +families. + +In other respects they were just as fortunate. They had a sincere +affection for each other, and coincident opinions on the proper +conduct of life. They were people into whose heads a misgiving seldom +or never penetrated. Their religious beliefs and the path of social +duty stood as plain before them as their front gate and as narrow as +the bridge which Mohammedans construct over hell. They loved Bob--who +of four children was their only son--and firmly intended to do their +best for him; and as they knew what was best for him, it followed +that Bob must conform. He was a light-coloured, docile boy, with a +pleasantly ingenuous face and an affectionate disposition; and he +loved his parents, and learned to lean on them. + +They sent him in time to Marlborough, where he wrote Latin verses of +slightly unusual merit, and bowled with a break from the off which +meant that there lay a thin vein of genius somewhere inside of him. +When once collared, his bowling became futile; success made it deadly, +and on one occasion in a school match against the M.C.C. he did things +at Lord's which caused a thin gathering of spectators--the elderly +men who never miss a match--to stare at him very attentively as he +returned to the pavilion. They thought it worth while to ask, "Which +'Varsity was he bound for?" + +Bob was bound for neither. He had to inherit, and consented to +inherit, his father's practice without question. His consuming desire +to go up to Oxford he hinted at once, and once only, in a conversation +with his father; but Mr. Haydon "did not care to expose his son to the +temptations which beset young men at the Universities"--this was +the very text--and preferred to keep him under his own eye in the +seclusion of Tregarrick. + +To a young man who is being shielded from temptation in a small +provincial town there usually happens one of two things. Either he +takes to drink or to discreditable essays in love-making. It is to +Bob's credit that he did neither; a certain delicate sanity in the +fellow kept him from these methods of killing time. Instead, he spent +his evenings at home; listened to his parents' talk; accepted their +opinions on human conduct and affairs; and tumbled honourably into +love with his sisters' governess. + +Ethel Ormiston, the governess, was about a year older than Bob, good +to look at, and the only being who understood what ailed Bob's soul +during this time. She was in prison herself, poor woman. Mrs. Haydon +asserted afterwards that Miss Ormiston had "deliberately set herself +to inveigle" the boy; but herein Mrs. Haydon was mistaken. As a matter +of fact Bob, having discovered someone obliging and intelligent enough +to listen, dinned the story of his aspirations into the girl's ear +with the persistent egoism of a hobbedehoy. It must be allowed, +however, that the counsel she gave him would have annoyed his parents +excessively. + +"But I do sympathise with you," she said after listening to an +immoderately long and peevish harangue; "and I should advise you to +go to your father, as a first step, and ask to be paid a very small +salary for the work you do--enough to set up in lodgings alone. At +present you are pauperising yourself." + +Bob did not quite understand--so she explained: + +"You are twenty-one, and still receiving food and lodging from your +parents as a dole. At your age, if a man receives anything at all from +father or mother, he should be earning it as a right." + +She spoke impatiently, and longed to add that he was also +impoverishing his intellect. She felt a touch of contempt for him; but +a touch of contempt may go with love, and, indeed, competent observers +have held that this mixture makes the very finest cement. Certain it +is that when Bob answered pathetically, "But I don't want to leave +this roof, I--I _can't_, Miss Ormiston, you know!" she missed her +opportunity of pointing out that this confession stultified every one +of his previous utterances. She began a sentence, indeed, but broke +off, with her grey eyes fixed on the ground; and when at length she +lifted them, Bob felt something take him by the throat. The few +words he proceeded to blurt out stunned him much as if a grenade had +exploded close at hand. But when Miss Ormiston burst into tears and +declared she must go upstairs at once and pack her box, he recovered, +and, looking about, found the aspect of the world bewilderingly +changed. There were valleys where hills had stood a moment before. + +"I'll go at once and tell my father," he said, drawing a full breath +and looking like the man he was for the moment. + +"And," sobbed Miss Ormiston, "I'll go at once and pack my box." + +Herein she showed foresight, for as soon as Bob's interview with his +father was over, she was commanded to leave the premises in time to +catch the early train next morning. + +Then the Haydon family sat down and talked to Bob. + +They began by pooh-poohing the affair. Then, inconsequently, they +talked of disgrace, and of scratching his name out of the Family +Bible, and said they would rather follow him to his grave than see him +married to Miss Ormiston. Lastly, Mrs. Haydon asked Bob who had nursed +him, and taught him to walk, and read and know virtue when he saw it. +Bob, in the words of the poet, replied, "My mother." "Very well then," +said Mrs. Haydon. + +After forty-eight hours of this Bob wrote to Miss Ormiston, saying, +"My father's indignation is natural, and can only be conquered by +time. But I love you always." + +Miss Ormiston replied, "Your father's indignation is natural, perhaps. +But if you love me, it might be conquered by something else," or words +to that effect. At any rate, her letter implied that as it was Bob, +and not his father, who proposed to make her a wife, it was on Bob, +and not on his father, that she laid the responsibility of fulfilling +the promise. + +But Bob was weak as water. Love had given him one brief glimpse of the +real world: then his father and mother began to talk, and the covers +of the Family Bible closed like gates upon his prospect. At the end +of a week he wrote--"Nothing shall shake me, dear Ethel. Still, some +consideration is due to them; for I am their only son." + +To this Ethel Ormiston sent no answer; but reflected "And what +consideration is due to me? for you are my only lover." + +For a while Bob thought of enlisting, and then of earning an honest +wage as a farm-labourer; but rejected both notions, because his +training had not taught him that independence is better than +respectability--yea, than much broadcloth. It was not that he hankered +after the fleshpots, but that he had no conception of a world without +fleshpots. In the end his father came to him and said-- + +"Will you give up this girl?" + +And Bob answered-- + +"I'm sorry, father, but I can't." + +"Very well. Rather than see this shame brought on the family, I will +send you out to Australia. I have written to my friend Morris, at +Ballawag, New South Wales, three hundred miles from Sydney, and he is +ready to take you into his office. You have broken my heart and your +mother's, and you must go." + +And Bob--this man of twenty-one or more--obeyed his father in this, +and went. I can almost forgive him, knowing how the filial habit +blinds a man. But I cannot forgive the letter he wrote to Miss +Ormiston--whom he wished to make his wife, please remember. +Nevertheless she forgave him. She had found another situation, and was +working on. Her parents were dead. + +Five years passed, and Bob's mother died--twelve years, and his father +died also, leaving him the lion's share of the money. During this time +Bob had worked away at Ballawag and earned enough to set up as lawyer +on his own account. But because a man cannot play fast and loose with +the self-will that God gave him and afterwards expect to do much +in the world, he was a moderately unsuccessful man still when the +inheritance dropped in. It gave him a fair income for life. When the +letter containing the news reached him, he left the office, walked +back to his house, and began to think. Then he unlocked his safe and +took out Ethel Ormiston's letters. They made no great heap; for of +late their correspondence had dwindled to an annual exchange of +good wishes at Christmas. She was still earning her livelihood as a +governess. + +Bob thought for a week, and then wrote. He asked Ethel Ormiston to +come out and be his wife. You will observe that the old curse still +lay on him. A man--even a poor one--that was worth kicking would have +gone and fetched her; and Bob had plenty of money. But he asked her to +come out and begged her to cable "Yes" or "No." + +She cabled "Yes." She would start within the month from Plymouth, in +the sailing-ship _Grimaldi_. She chose a sailing-ship because it was +cheaper. + +So Bob travelled down to Sydney to welcome his bride. He stepped on +the _Grimaldi's_ deck within five minutes of her arrival, and asked +if a Miss Ormiston were on board. There advanced a middle-aged woman, +gaunt, wrinkled and unlovely--not the woman he had chosen, but the +woman he had made. + +"Ethel?" was all he found to say. + +"Yes, Bob; I am Ethel. And God forgive you." + +Of the change in him she said nothing; but held out her hand with a +smile. + +"Marry me, Bob, or send me back: I give you leave to do either, and +advise you to send me back. Twelve years ago you might have been proud +of me, and so I might have helped you. As it is, I have travelled far, +and am tired. I can never help you now." + +And though he married her, she never did. + + +II.--BOANERGES. + +"Bill Penberthy's come back, I hear." + +The tin-smith was sharpening his pocket-knife on the parapet of the +bridge, and, without troubling to lift his eyes, threw just enough +interrogation into the remark to show that he meant it to lead to +conversation. Every one of the dozen men around him held a knife, so +that a stranger, crossing the bridge, might have suspected a popular +rising in the village. But, as a matter of fact, they were merely +waiting for their turn. There is in the parapet one stone upon which +knives may be sharpened to an incomparable edge; and, for longer +than I can remember, this has supplied the men of Gantick with the +necessary excuse for putting their heads together on fine evenings and +discussing the news. + +"Ay, he's back." + +"Losh, Uncle, I'd no idea you was there," said the tin-smith, wheeling +round. "And how's your lad looking?" + +"Tolerable--tolerable. 'A's got a black suit, my sonnies, and a white +tie, and a soft hat that looks large on the head, but can be folded +and stowed in your tail pocket." Complacency shone over the speaker's +shrivelled cheeks, and beamed from his horn-spectacles. "You can tell +'en at a glance for a Circuit-man and no common Rounder." + +"'A's fully knowledgeable by all accounts; learnt out, they tell me." + +"You shall hear 'en for yourselves at meeting to-morrow. He conducts +both services. Now don't tempt me any more, that's good souls: for +when he'd no sooner set foot in th' house and kissed his mother than +he had us all down on our knees giving hearty thanks in the most +beautiful language, I said to myself, 'many's the time I've had two +minds about the money spent in making ye a better man than your +father;' but fare thee well, doubt! I don't begrudge it, an' there's +an end." + +A small girl came running down the street to the bridge-end. + +"Uncle Penberthy," she panted, "your tall son--Mr. William--said I +was to run down and fetch 'ee home at once." + +"Nothin' wrong with 'en, I hope?" + +"I think he's going to hold a prayer." + +The little man looked at the blade of his knife for a moment, half +regretfully: then briskly clasped it, slipped it into his pocket, and +hobbled away after the messenger. + +The whitewashed front of the Meeting House was bathed, next evening, +with soft sunset yellow when Mr. Penberthy the elder stole down +the stairs between the exhortations, as his custom was, and stood +bareheaded in the doorway respiring the cool air. As a deacon he +temperately used the privileges of his office, and one of these was +a seat next the door. The Meeting House was really no more than a +room--a long upper chamber over a store; and its stairway descended +into the street so sharply that it was possible, even for a +short-armed man, to sit on the lowest step and shake hands with a +friend in the street. + +The roadway was deserted for a while. Across the atmosphere there +reigned that hush which people wonder at on Sundays, forgetting that +nature is always still and that nine-tenths of the week's hubbub is +made by man. Down the pale sky came a swallow, with another in chase: +their wings were motionless as they swept past the doorway, but the +air whizzed with the speed of their flight, and in a moment was silent +again. Then from the upper room a man's voice began to roar out upon +the stillness. It roared, it broke out in thick sobs that shook the +closed windows in their fastenings, it wrestled with emotion for +utterance, and, overcoming it, rose into a bellow again; but, whether +soaring or depressed, the strain upon it was never relaxed. Uncle +Penberthy, listening to his son, felt an oppression of his own chest +and drew his breath uneasily. + +The tin-smith came round the corner and halted by the door. + +"That son o' yours is a boundless man," he observed with an upward +nod. + +"How did he strike ye this morning?" + +"I don't remember to have been so powerfully moved in my life. Perhaps +you and me being cronies for thirty year, and he your very son, may +have helped to the more effectual working; but be that as it may, I +couldn't master my dinner afterwards, and that's the trewth. Ah, he's +a man, Uncle; and there's no denying we wanted one of that sort to +awaken us to a fit sense. What a dido he do kick up, to be sure!" + +The tin-smith shifted his footing uneasily as if he had something to +add. + +"I hope you won't think it onneighbourly or disrespectful that I didn' +come agen this evenin'," he begun, after a pause. + +"Not at all, Jem, not at all." + +"Because, you see--" + +"Yes, yes, I quite see." + +"I wouldn' have ye think--but there, I'm powerful glad you see." His +face cleared. "Good evenin' to ye, Uncle!" + +He went on with a brisker step, while Uncle Penberthy drew a few more +lingering breaths and climbed the stairs again to the close air of the +meeting-room. + +"I'm afraid, father, that something in my second exhortation +displeased you," said the Rev. William Penberthy as he walked home +from service between his parents. He was a tall fellow with a +hatchet-shaped face and eyes set rather closely together. + +"Not at all, my son. What makes ye deem it?" The little man tilted +back his bronzed top-hat and looked up nervously. + +"Because you went out in the middle of service." + +"'Tis but father's habit, William," old Mrs. Penberthy made haste to +explain, laying a hand on his arm. She was somewhat stouter of build +and louder of voice than her husband, but stood in just the same awe +of her son. "He's done it regular since he was appointed deacon." + +"Why?" asked William, stonily. + +Uncle Penberthy pulled off his hat to extract a red handkerchief from +its crown, removed his spectacles, and wiped them hurriedly. + +"Them varmints of boys," he stammered, "be so troublesome round the +door--occasion'lly, that is." + +"Was that so to-night?" + +"Why, no." + +"But you were absent at least twenty minutes--all through the silent +prayer and half way through the third exhortation." He gazed sternly +at the amiable old man. "You didn't hear me treat that difficulty +in Colossians, two, twenty to twenty-three? If you have time, we'll +discuss it after private worship to-night. If I can make you see it +in what I am sure is the right light, it will lead you to think more +seriously of that glass of beer you have fallen into the habit of +taking with your supper." + +It is but a fortnight since the Rev. William Penberthy came home; but +in that fortnight his father and mother have aged ten years. The +old man, when I took him my watch to regulate the other day--for on +week-days he is a watch-maker--began to ask questions, as eagerly as a +child, about the village news. It turned out that, for a whole week, +he had not been down to sharpen his knife upon the bridge. He has +given up his glass of beer, too, and altogether the zeal of his house +is eating him up. + +This morning the new minister climbed into the van with his +carpet-bag. He is off to some Conference or other, and will be back +again the day after to-morrow. Ten minutes after he had gone his +father and mother shut up the shop and went out together. They mean +to take a whole holiday and hear all the news. It was pitiful to +see their fumbling haste as they helped one another to put up the +shutters; and almost more pitiful to mark, as they hurried down the +street arm in arm, their conscientious but feeble endeavour to look +something more staid than a couple of children just out of school. + + + + +TWO MONUMENTS. + + +MY DEAR YOUNG LADY,-- + +Our postman here does not deliver parcels until the afternoon--which +nobody grumbles at, because of his infirmity and his long and useful +career. The manuscript, therefore, of your novel, _Sunshine and +Shadow_, has not yet reached me. But your letter--in which, you beg me +to send an opinion upon the work, with some advice upon your chances +of success in literature--I found on my breakfast-table, as well +as the photograph which you desire (perhaps wisely) to face the +title-page. I trust you will forgive the slight stain in the lower +left-hand corner of the portrait, which I return: for it is the +strawberry-season here, and in course of my reflections I had the +misfortune to let the cardboard slip between my fingers and fall +across the edge of the plate. + +I have taken the resolution to send my advice before it can be +shaken by a perusal of _Sunshine and Shadow_. But it is difficult +nevertheless. I might say bluntly that, unless the camera lies, your +face is not one to stake against Fame over a game of hazard. You +remember John Lyly's "Cupid and my Campaspe"?--and how Cupid losing, + + "_down he throws + The coral of his lip, the rose + Growing on's cheek (but none lenows how)_ ..." + +--and so on, with the rest of his charms, one by one? I might assure +you that when maidens play against Fame they risk all these treasures +and more, without hope of leniency from their opponent, who (you will +note) is the same sex. But you will answer by return of post, that +this is no business of mine, and that I exhibit the usual impertinence +of man when asked to consider woman's serious aspiration. You will +protest that you are ready to stake all this. Very well, then: listen, +if you have patience, to a little story that I came upon, a week +since, about a man who spent his days at this game of hazard. It was +called _The Two Monuments_. + +When the Headmaster of the Grammar-School came to add up the marks +for the term's work and examination--which he always did without a +mistake--it was discovered that in the Upper Fourth (the top form) +Thompson had beaten Jenkins _major_ by sixteen. So Thompson received +a copy of the _Memoirs of Eminent Etonians_, bound in tree-calf, and +took it home under his arm, wondering what "Etonians" were, but too +proud to ask. And Jenkins _major_ received nothing; and being too weak +to punch Thompson's head (as he desired) waylaid him opposite the +cemetery gate on his way home, and said-- + +"_Parvenu!_" + +--which was doubly insulting; for, in the first place, French was +Thompson's weakest subject, and secondly, his father was a haberdasher +in a small way, who spoke with awe of the Jenkinses as a family that +had practised law in the town for six generations. Thompson himself +was aware of the glamour such a lineage conferred. It was wholly due +to his ignorance of French that he retorted-- + +"You're another!" + +Young Jenkins explained the term, with a wave of his hand towards the +cemetery gate. + +"You'll find my family in there, and inside a rail of their own. And +you needn't think I wanted that prize. _I_'ve got a grandfather." + +So, no doubt, had Thompson; but, to find him, he must have consulted +the parish books and searched among the graves at the northern end of +the burial-ground for one decorated with a tin label and the number +2054. He gazed in at the sacred acre of the Jenkinses and the +monuments emblazoned with "J.P.," "Recorder of this Borough," "Clerk +of the Peace for the County," and other proud appendices in gilt +lettering: and, in the heat of his heart, turned upon Jenkins _major_. + +"You just wait till we die, and see which of us two has the finer +tombstone!" + +Thereupon he stalked home and read the _Memoirs of Eminent Etonians_, +and learnt from their perusal that it was indeed possible to earn +a finer tombstone than any Jenkins possessed. At the end of the +Christmas term, too, he acquired a copy of Dr. Smiles's famous work on +_Self-Help_, and this really set his feet in the path to his desire. + +He determined, after weighing the matter carefully, to be a poet: for +it seemed to him that of all the noble professions this was the only +one the initial expense of which could be covered by his patrimony. +The paper, ink, and pens came cheaply enough (though the waste was +excessive); and for his outfit of high thoughts and emotions he pawned +not merely the possessions that you, my dear young lady, are +so willing to cast on the table--charms of face and graces of +person--for, as a man, he valued these lightly; but the strength in +his arms, the taste of meat and wine, the cunning of horsemanship, of +boat-sailing, of mountain-climbing, the breathless joy of the diver, +the languid joy of the dancer, the feel of the canoe-paddle shaken +in the rapid, the delicious lassitude of sleep in wayside-inns, and +lastly the ecstasy of love and fatherhood--all these he relinquished +for a tombstone that should be handsomer than Jenkins's. Jenkins, +meanwhile, was articled to his father, and, having passed the +necessary examinations with credit, became a solicitor and married +into a county family. + +Thompson, I need hardly tell you, was by this time settled in London +and naturally spent a good deal of his leisure time in Westminster +Abbey. The monuments there profoundly affected his imagination, and +gave him quite new ambitions with regard to the tombstone that towered +at the back of all his day-dreams. When first he trod the Embankment, +in thin boots with a few pence in his pocket, it had appeared to him +in slate with a terrific inscription in gilt letters--inscriptions in +which "Benefactor of His Species," "Take him for All in All We shall +not Look upon his Like Again" took the place of the pettifogging +"Clerk of the Peace" or "J.P." tagged on to the names of the +Jenkinses. By degrees, however, he abated a little of the inscription +and made up for it by trebling the costliness of the stone. + +From slate it grew to granite--to marble--to alabaster, with painted +cherubs and a coat of arms. At one time he brooded, for a whole week, +over a flamboyant design with bosses of lapis lazuli at the four +corners; and only gave it up for a life-size recumbent figure in +alabaster with four gryphons supporting the sarcophagus. As the soles +of his boots thickened with prosperity, so did his stone grow in +solidity. Finally an epic of his--_Adrastus_--took the town by +storm, and three editions were exhausted in a single week. When this +happened, he sat down with a gigantic sheet of cartridge paper before +him and spent a whole year in setting out the elaborated design. By +his will he left all his money to pay for the structure: for his +father and mother were dead and he had neither wife nor child. + +When all was finished he rubbed his hands, packed up his bag and took +a third-class ticket down to his native town, to have a contemptuous +look at the Jenkins monuments and see how Jenkins _major_ was getting +on. + +Jenkins _major_ was up in the cemetery, among his fathers. And on top +of Jenkins rested a granite cross--sufficiently handsome, to be sure, +for a solicitor, but nothing out of the way. "J.P." was carved upon +it; though, as Jenkins had an absurdly long Christian name (Marmaduke +Augustus St. John), these letters were squeezed a bit in the right arm +of the cross. Underneath was engraved-- + + "_ERECTED BY HIS DISCONSOLATE + WIFE AND CHILDREN. + + A Father kind, a Husband dear, + A faithful Friend, lies buried here_." + +Thompson perused the doggerel once, twice, and a third time; and +chuckled contemptuously. "So Jenkins has come to this. God bless me, +how life in a provincial town does narrow a man!" + + "_A Father kind, a Husband dear_..." + +--and he went away chuckling, but with no malice at all in his breast. + +Jenkins slept forgiven beneath his twopenny-halfpenny tombstone, and +Thompson, reflecting that not only was his own monument designed (with +a canopy of Carrara marble), but the cost of it invested in the three +per cents., walked contentedly back to the station, repeating on his +way with gentle scorn-- + + "_A Father kind, a Husband dear, + A faithful Friend, lies buried here_." + +The jingle lulled him asleep in his railway carriage, and he awoke in +London. Driving home, he paid the cabby, rushed up to his room three +stairs at a bound, unlocked his safe and pulled out the great design. +In one corner he had even drawn up a list of the eminent men who +should be his pall-bearers. Certainly such a tomb would make Jenkins +turn in his grave. + +He spread the plan on the table, with a paper-weight on each corner, +and sat down before it. After considering it for an hour, he arose +dissatisfied. + +"Jenkins had a heap of flowers over him--common flowers, to be sure, +but fresh enough. I dare say I could arrange for a supply, though. +It's that confounded doggerel-- + + '_A Father kind, a Husband dear_.' + +"That's Mrs. Jenkins's taste, I suppose. Still--of course I could +better the verse; but one can't stick up a lie over one's remains. I +wish to God I had a disconsolate wife, or a child, if only to spite +Jenkins." + +And I believe, my dear young lady, that underneath his tomb (whereon +there now stands a marble figure of Fame and blows a gilt trumpet) he +is still wishing it. + + + + +EGG-STEALING. + + +It wanted less than an hour to high water when Miss Marty Lear heard +her brother's boat take ground on the narrow beach below the garden, +and set the knives and glasses straight while she listened for the +click of the garden-latch. + +A line of stunted hazels ran along the foot of the garden and hid the +landing-place from Miss Lear as she stood at the kitchen window gazing +down steep alleys of scarlet runners. But above the hazels she could +look across to the fruit-growing village of St. Kits, and catch a +glimpse at high tide of the intervening river, or towards low water of +the mud-banks shining in the sun. + +It was Miss Lear's custom to look much on this landscape from this +window: had, in fact, been her habit for close upon forty years. And +this evening, when the latch clicked at length, and her brother in +his market-suit come slouching up the path between the parallels of +garden-stuff, her eyes rested all the while upon the line of grey +water above and beyond his respectable hat. + +Nor, when he entered the kitchen, hitched this hat upon a peg in the +wall--where its brim accurately fitted a sort of dull halo in the +whitewash--did he appear to want any welcome from her. He was a +long-jawed man of sixty-five, she a long-jawed woman of sixty-one; and +they understood each other's ways, having kept this small and desolate +farm together for thirty years--that is, since their father's death. + +A cold turnip-pasty stood on the table, with the cider-jug that Job +Lear regularly emptied at supper. These suggested no small-talk, and +the pair sat down to eat in silence. + +It was only while holding out his plate for a second helping of the +pasty that Job spoke with a full mouth. + +"Who d'ee reckon I ran across to-day, down in Troy?" + +Miss Marty cut the slice without troubling to say that she had not a +notion. + +"Why, that fellow Amos Trudgeon," he went on. + +"Yes?" + +"'Pears to me you must be failin' if you disremembers 'en: son of old +Sal Trudgeon, that used to keep the jumble-shop 'cross the water: him +that stole our eggs back-along, when father was livin'." + +"I remember." + +"I thought you must. Why, you gave evidence, to be sure. Be dashed! +now I come to mind, if you wasn' the first to wake the house an' say +you heard a man hollerin' out down 'pon the mud." + +"Iss, I was." + +"An' saved his life, though you did get 'en two months in Bodmin Gaol +by it. Up to the arm-pits he was, an' not five minutes to live, when +we hauled 'en out, an' wonderin' what he could be doin' there, found +he'd been stealin' our eggs. He inquired after you to-day." + +"Did he?" + +"Iss. 'How's Miss Marty?' says he. 'Agein' rapidly,' says I. The nerve +that some folks have! Comes up to me as cool as my lord and holds +out a hand. He've a-grown into a sort of commercial; stomach like a +bow-window, with a watch-guard looped across. I'd a mind to say 'Eggs' +to 'en, it so annoyed me." + +"I hope you didn't." + +"No. 'Twould have seemed like bearin' malice. 'Tis an old tale, after +all, that feat of his." + +"Nine an' thirty year, come seventeenth o' September next. Did he say +any more?" + +"Said the weather-glass was risin', but too fast to put faith in." + +"I mean, did he ask any more about me?" + +"Iss: wanted to know if you was married. I reckon he meant that for a +bit o' pleasantness." + +"Not that! Ah, not that!" + +Job laid down knife and fork with their points resting on the rim +of his plate, and, with a lump of pasty in one cheek, looked at his +sister. She had pushed back her chair a bit, and her fingers were +plucking the edge of the table-cloth. + +"Not that!" she repeated once more, and hardly above a whisper. She +did not lift her eyes. Before Job could speak-- + +"He was my lover," she said, and shivered. + +"Mar--ty--" + +She looked up now, hardened her ugly, twitching face, forced her eyes +to meet her brother's, and went on breathlessly-- + +"I swear to you, Job--here, across this table--he was my lover; and +I ruined 'en. He was the only man, 'cept you and father, that ever +kissed me; and I betrayed 'en. As the Lord liveth, I stood up in the +box and swore away his name to save mine. An' what's more, he made +me." + +"Mar--ty Lear!" + +"Don't hinder me, Job. It's God's truth I'm tellin' 'ee. His folks +were a low lot, an' father'd have broken every bone o' me. But we used +to meet in the orchard 'most every night. Don't look so, brother. I'm +past sixty, an' nothin' known; an' now evil an' good's the same to +me." + +"Go on." + +"Well, the last night he came over 'twas spring tides, an' past the +flood. I was waitin' for 'en in the orchard, down in the corner by the +Adam's Pearmain. We could see the white front o' the house from there, +and us in the dark shadow: and there was the gap handy, that Amos +could snip through at a pinch--you fenced it up yoursel' the very +summer that father died in the fall. That night, Amos was late an' the +dew heavy, an' no doubt I lost my temper waitin' out there in the long +grass. We had words, I know; an' I reckon the tide ran far out while +we quarrelled. Anyway, he left me in wrath, an' I stood there under +the appletree, longin' for 'en to come back an' make friends again. +But the time went on, an' I didn' hear his footstep--no, nor his oars +pullin' away--though hearkenin' with all my ears. + +"An' then I heard a terrible sound." Miss Marty paused and drew the +back of her hand across her dry lips before proceeding. + +"--a terrible sound--a sort of low breathin', but fierce; an' +something worse, a suck-suckin' of the mud below; an' I ran down. I +suppose, in his anger, he took no care how he walked round the point +(for he al'ays moored his boat round the point, out o' sight), an' +went wide an' was taken. There he was, above his knees in it, and +far out it seemed to me, in the light o' the young moon. For all his +fightin', he heard me, and whispers out o' the dark-- + +"'Little girl, it's got me. Hush! don't shout, or they'll catch you.' + +"'Can't you get out?' I whispered back. + +"'No,' says he, 'I'm afraid I can't, unless you run up to the linhay +an' fetch a rope.' + +"It was no more I stayed to hear, but ran up hot-foot to the linhay +and back inside the minute, with the waggon rope. + +"'Hold the end,' he panted, 'and throw with all your strength.' And I +threw, but the rope fell short. Twice again I threw, but missed each +cast by a yard and more. He wouldn't let me come near the mud. + +"Then I fell to runnin' to an' fro on the edge o' the firm ground, an' +sobbin' between my teeth because I could devise nothin'. And all the +while he was fightin' hard. + +"'I'll run an' call father an' Job,' says I. + +"'Hush'ee now! Be you crazed? Do you want to let 'em know all?' + +"'But it'll kill you, dear, won't it?' + +"'Likely it will,' said he. Then, after a while of battlin', he +whispers again, 'Little girl, I don't want to die. Death is a cold +end. But I reckon you shall save me an' your name as well. Take the +rope, coil it as you run, and hang it back in the linhay, quick! Then +run you to the hen-house an' bring me all the eggs you can find. Be +quick and ax no questions, for it's little longer I can hold up. It's +above my waist,' he says. + +"I didn' know what he meant, but ran for my life to the linhay, and +hung up the rope, an' then to the hen-house. I could tell prety well +where to find a dozen eggs or more in the dark, an' in three minutes +I'd groped about an' gathered 'em in the lap o' my dress. Then back I +ran. I could just spy 'en--a dark spot out there in the mud. + +"'How many?' he axed, an' his voice was like a rook's. + +"'A dozen, or near.' + +"'Toss 'em here. Don't come too nigh, an' shy careful, so's I can +catch.' + +"I stepped down pretty nigh to the brim o' the mud an' tossed 'em out +to him. Three fell short in my hurry, but the rest he got hold of +somehow. + +"'That's right,' he calls, hoarse and low, 'they'll think +egg-stealin' nateral to a low family like our'n. Now back to your +room--undress--an' cry out, sayin', there's a man shoutin' for help +down 'pon the mud; and, dear, be quick! When you wave your candle +twice at the window, I'll shout like a Trojan.' + +"An' I did it, Job; for the cruelty in a fearful woman passes +knowledge. An' you rescued 'en an' he went to gaol. For he said 'twas +the only way. An' his mother took it as quite reasonable that her +husband's son should take to the bad--'twas the way of all them +Trudgeons. Father to son, they was of no account. Egg-stealin' was +just the little hole-an'-corner wickedness that 'd come nateral to +'em." + +"I rec'lect now," said Job Lear very slowly, "that the wain-rope was +wet i' my hands when I unhitched 'en that night from the hook, an' I +wondered, it bein' the end of a week's dryth. But in the dark an' the +confusion o' savin' the wastrel's life it slipped my thoughts, else--" + +"Else you'd ha' wetted it wi' the blood o' my back, Job. But the +rope's been frayed to powder this many year. An' you needn't look at +me like that. I'm past sixty, an' I've done my share of repentin'. He +didn't say if he was married, did he?" + + + + +SEVEN-AN'-SIX. + + +The old fish-market at Troy was just a sagged lean-to roof on the +northern side of the Town Quay, resting against the dead wall of the +harbour-master's house, and propped in front by four squat granite +columns. This roof often let in rain enough to fill the pits worn in +the paving-stones by the feet of gossiping generations; and the whole +was wisely demolished a few years back to make place for a Working +Men's Institute--a red building, where they take in all the chief +London newspapers. Nevertheless I have, in some moods, caught myself +hankering after the old shelter, where the talk was unchartered +always, and where no notices were suspended against smoking; and I +know it used to be worth visiting on dirty evenings about the time of +the Equinox, when the town-folk assembled to watch the high tide and +the chances of its flooding the streets about the quay. + +Early one September afternoon, about two years before its destruction, +a small group of watermen, a woman or two, and a fringe of small +children were gathered in the fish-market around a painter and his +easel. The painter--locally known as Seven-an'-Six--was a white-haired +little man, with a clean-shaven face, a complexion of cream and +roses, a high unwrinkled brow, and blue eyes that beamed an engaging +trustfulness on his fellow-creatures, of whom he stood ready to paint +any number at seven shillings and sixpence a head. As this method +of earning a livelihood did not allow him to sojourn long in one +place--which, indeed, was far from his desire--he spent a great part +of his time upon the cheaper seats of obscure country vehicles. He +delighted in this life of perennial transience, and enjoyed painting +the portraits which justified it; and was, on the whole, one of the +happiest of men. + +Just now he was enjoying himself amazingly, being keenly alive not +merely to the crowd's admiration, but to the rare charm of that which +he was trying to paint. Some six paces before him there leant against +one of the granite pillars a woman of exceeding beauty: her figure +tall, supple, full of strength, in every line, her face brown and +broad-browed, with a heavy chin that gave character to the rest of her +features, and large eyes, black as sloes, that regarded the artist and +the group at his elbow with a sombre disdain. The afternoon sunshine +slanted down the pillar, was broken by the mass of dark hair she +rested against it, and ran down again along her firm and rounded arm +to the sun-bonnet she dangled by its strings. Behind her, the quay's +edge shone bright against the green water of the harbour, where, half +a cable's length from shore, a small three-masted schooner lay at +anchor, with her Blue Peter fluttering at the fore. + +"He's gettin' her to-rights," observed one of the crowd. + +A woman said, "I wish I'd a-been took in my young days, when I was +comely." + +"Then, whyever wasn't 'ee, Mrs. Slade?" + +"Well-a-well, my dear, I'm sure I dunno. Three ha'af-crowns is a +lot o' money to see piled in your palm, an' say 'Fare thee well; +increase!' Store 's no sore, as my old mother used to say." + +"But," argued a man, "when once you've made up your mind to the +gallant speckilation, you never regret it--danged if you do!" + +"Then why hasn't 'ee been took, Thomas, in all these years?" + +"Because that little emmet o' doubt gets the better o' me every time. +'Tis like holdin' back from the Fifteen Balls: you feel sure in your +own mind you'll be better wi'out the drink, but for your life you +durstn't risk the disapp'intment. Over this matter I'll grant ye +that I preaches what I can't practise. But my preachin' is sound. +Therefore, I bid ye all follow the example o' Cap'n Hosken here, +who, bein' possessed wi' true love for 'Liza Saunders, is havin' her +portrait took for to hang up in his narrow cabin out to sea, an' +remind hissel' o' the charms that bide at home a-languishin'." + +"That's not my reason, though," said Captain Hosken, a sunburnt and +serious man, at the painter's elbow. + +"Then what may it be, makin' so bold?" + +"I'll tell ye when the painting's done." + +"A couple of strokes, and it's finished," said the artist, cocking his +head on one side and screwing up his blue eyes. "There, I'll tell you +plainly, friend, that my skill is but a seven-and-sixpenny matter, or +a trifle beyond. It does well enough what it pretends to do; but this +is a subject I never ought to have touched. I know my limits. You'll +see, sir," he went on, in a more business-like tone, "I've indicated +your ship here in the middle distance. I thought it would give the +portrait just that touch of sentiment you would desire." + +The faces gathered closer to stare. 'Liza left the pillar, stretched +herself to her full height, and came forward, tying the strings of her +sun-bonnet. + +"'Tis the very daps of her!" was Captain Hosken's comment as he pulled +out his three half-crowns. "As for the _Rare Plant_, what you've put +in might be took for a vessel; and if a man took it for a vessel, he +might go on to take it for a schooner; but I'd be tolerable sorry if +he took it for a schooner o' which I was master. Hows'ever, you've put +in all 'Liza's good looks an' enticingness. 'Tis a picture I'm glad to +own, an' be dashed to the sentiment you talked about!" + +He took the portrait carefully from the easel, and held it before him, +between his open palms. + +"Neighbours all," he began, his rather stupid face overspread with an +expression of satisfied cunning, "I promised to tell 'ee my reasons +for havin' 'Liza's portrait took. They're rather out o' the common, +an' 'Liza hersel' don't guess what they be, no more than the biggest +fool here present amongst us." + +He looked from the man Thomas, from whose countenance this last +innuendo glanced off as from a stone wall, to 'Liza, who answered +him with a puzzled scowl. Her foot began to tap the paving-stone +impatiently. + +"When I gazes 'pon 'Liza," he pursued, "my eyes be fairly dazzled wi' +the looks o' her. I allow that. She's got that build, an' them lines +about the neck an' waist, an' them red-ripe lips, that I feels no +care to look 'pon any other woman. That's why I took up wi' her, an' +offered her my true heart. But strike me if I'd counted 'pon her +temper; an' she's got the temper of Old Nick! Why, only last +evenin'--the very evenin' before I sailed, mark ye--she slapped my +ear. She did, though! Says I, down under my breath, 'Right you are my +lady! we'll be quits for that.' But, you see, I couldn' bear to break +it off wi' her, because I didn' want to miss her beautiful looks." + +The women began to titter, and 'Liza's face to flame, but her lover +proceeded with great complacency: + +"Well, I was beset in my mind till an hour agone, when--as I walked +down here with 'Liza, half mad to take leave of her, and sail for Rio +Grande, and likewise sick of her temper--I sees this gentleman a-doin' +pictures at seven-an'-six; and thinks I, 'If I can get 'en to make a +copy of 'Liza's good looks, then I shall take off to sea as much as I +want of her, an' the rest, temper included, can bide at home till I +calls for it. That's all I've got to say. 'Liza's a beauty beyond +compare, an' her beauty I worships, an' means to worship. But if any +young man wants to take her, I tell him he's welcome. So long t' ye +all!" + +Still holding the canvas carefully a foot from his waistcoat, to avoid +smearing it, he sauntered off to the quay-steps, and hailed his boat +to carry him aboard the _Rare Plant_. As he passed the girl he had +thus publicly jilted, her fingers contracted for a second like a +hawk's talons; but she stood still, and watched him from under +her brows as he descended the steps. Then with a look that, as it +travelled in a semi-circle, obliterated the sympathy which most of the +men put into their faces, and the sneaking delight which all the women +wore on theirs, she strode out of the fish-market and up the street. + +Seven-an'-Six squeezed the paint out of his brushes, packed up his +easel and japanned box, wished the company good-day, and strolled back +to his inn. He was sincerely distressed, and regretted a hundred times +in the course of that evening that he had parted with the portrait +and received its price before Captain Hosken had made that speech. He +would (he told himself) have run his knife through the canvas, and +gladly forfeited the money. As it was, he lingered long over the +supper it procured, and ate heartily. + +A mile beyond the town, next morning, Boutigo's van, in which he was +the only passenger, pulled up in front of a roadside cottage. A bundle +and a tin box were hoisted up by Boutigo, and a girl climbed in. It +was 'Liza. + +"Oh, good morning!" stammered the little painter. + +"I'm going to stay with my aunt in Truro, and seek service," the girl +announced, keeping her eye upon him, and her colour down with an +effort. "Where are you bound?" + +"I? Oh, I travel about, now in one place, next day in another--always +moving. It's the breath of life to me, moving around." + +"That must be nice! I often wonder why men tie themselves up to a wife +when they might be free to move about like you, and see the world. +What does a man want to tack a wife on to him when he can always carry +her image about?" She laughed, without much bitterness. + +"But--" began the amiable painter, and checked himself. He had been +about to confess that he himself owned a wife and four healthy +children. He saw this family about once in two months, and it existed +by letting out lodgings in a small unpaintable town. He was sincerely +fond of his wife, who made every allowance for his mercurial nature; +but it suddenly struck him that her portrait hung in the parlour at +home, and had never accompanied him on his travels. + +He was silent for a minute or two, and then began to converse on +ordinary topics. + + + + +THE REGENT'S WAGER. + + +Boutigo's van--officially styled _The Vivid_--had just issued from +the Packhorse Yard, Tregarrick, a leisurely three-quarters of an hour +behind its advertised time, and was scaling the acclivity of St. +Fimbar's Street in a series of short tacks. Now and then it halted +to take up a passenger or a parcel; and on these occasions Boutigo +produced a couple of big stones from his hip-pockets and slipped them +under the hind-wheels, while we, his patrons within the van, tilted +at an angle of 15° upon cushions of American cloth, sought for new +centres of gravity, and earnestly desired the summit. + +It was on the summit, where the considerate Boutigo gave us a minute's +pause to rearrange ourselves and our belongings, that we slipped into +easy and general talk. An old countryman, with an empty poultry-basket +on his knees, and a battered top-hat on the back of his head, gave us +the cue. + +"When Boutigo's father had the accident--that was back in 'fifty-six,' +and it broke his leg an' two ribs--the van started from close 'pon the +knap o' the hill here, and scat itself to bits against the bridge at +the foot just two and a half minutes after." + +I suggested that this was not very fast for a runaway horse. + +"I dessay not," he answered; "but 'twas pretty spry for a van slippin' +_backwards_, and the old mare diggin' her toes in all the way to hold +it up." + +One or two of the passengers grinned at my expense, and the old man +pursued-- + +"But if you want to know how fast a hoss _can_ get down St. Fimbar's +hill, I reckon you've lost your chance by not axin' Dan'l Best, that +died up to the 'Sylum twelve years since; though, poor soul, he'd but +one answer for every question from his seven-an'-twentieth year to his +end, an' that was 'One, two, three, four, five, sis, seven." + +"Ah, the poor body! his was a wisht case," a woman observed from the +corner furthest from the door. + +"Ay, Selina, and fast forgotten, like all the doin's and sufferin's of +the men of old time." He reached a hand round his basket, and touching +me on the knee, pointed back on Tregarrick. "There's a wall," he said, +and I saw by the direction of his finger that he meant the wall of the +county prison, "and beneath that wall's a road, and across that road's +a dismal pool, and beyond that pool's a green hillside, with a road +athurt it that comes down and crosses by the pool's head. Standin' +'pon that hillside you can see a door in the wall, twenty feet above +the ground, an' openin' on nothing. Leastways, you could see it once; +an' even now, if ye've good eyesight, ye can see where they've bricked +it up." + +I could, in fact, even at our distance, detect the patch of recent +stone-work; and knew something of its history. + +"Now," the old man continued, "turn your looks to the right and mark +the face of Tregarrick town-clock. You see it, hey?"--and I had time +to read the hour on its dial before Boutigo jolted us over the ridge +and out of sight of it--"Well, carry them two things in your mind: for +they mazed Dan'l Best an' murdered his brother Hughie." + +And, much as I shall repeat it, he told me this tale, pausing now and +again to be corroborated by the woman in the corner. The history, my +dear reader, is accurate enough--for Boutigo's van. + +There lived a young man in Tregarrick in the time of the French War. +His name was Dan'l Best, and he had an only brother Hughie, just three +years younger than himself. Their father and mother had died of the +small-pox and left them, when quite young children, upon the parish: +but old Walters of the Packhorse--he was great-grandfather of the +Walters that keeps it now--took a liking to them and employed them, +first about his stables and in course of time as post-boys. Very good +post-boys they were, too, till Hughie took to drinking and wenching +and cards and other devil's tricks. Dan'l was always a steady sort: +walked with a nice young woman that was under-housemaid up to the old +Lord Bellarmine's at Castle Cannick, and was saving up to be married, +when Hughie robbed the mail. + +Hughie robbed the mail out of doubt. He did it up by Tippet's Barrow, +just beyond the cross-roads where the scarlet gig used to meet the +coach and take the mails for Castle Cannick and beyond to Tolquite. +Billy Phillips, that drove the gig, was found in the ditch with his +mouth gagged, and swore to Hughie's being the man. The Lord Chief +Justice, too, summed up dead against him, and the jury didn't even +leave the box. And the moral was, "Hughie Best, you're to be taken to +the place whence you come from, ancetera, and may the Lord have mercy +upon your soul!" + +You may fancy what a blow this was to Dan'l; for though fine and vexed +with Hughie's evil courses, he'd never guessed the worst, nor anything +like it. Not a doubt had he, nor could have, that Hughie was guilty; +but he went straight from the court to his young woman and said, "I've +saved money for us to be married on. There's little chance that I can +win Hughie a reprieve; and, whether or no, it will eat up all, or +nearly all, my savings. Only he's my one brother. Shall I go?" And she +said, "Go, my dear, if I wait ten years for you." So he borrowed a +horse for a stage or two, and then hired, and so got to London, on a +fool's chase, as it seemed. + +The fellow's purpose, of course, was to see King George. But King +George, as it happened, was daft just then; and George his son reigned +in his stead, being called the Prince Regent. Weary days did Dan'l air +his heels with one Minister of the Crown after another before he could +get to see this same Regent, and 'tis to be supposed that the great +city, being new to him, weighed heavy on his spirits. And all the +time he had but one plea, that his brother was no more than a boy and +hadn't an ounce of vice in his nature--which was well enough beknown +to all in Tregarrick, but didn't go down with His Majesty's advisers: +while as for the Prince Regent, Dan'l couldn't get to see him till the +Wednesday evening that Hughie was to be hanged on the Friday, and then +his Royal Highness spoke him neither soft nor hopeful. + +"The case was clear as God's daylight," said he: "the Lord Chief +Justice tells me that the jury didn't even quit the box." + +"Your Royal Highness must excuse me," said Dan'l, "but I never shall +be able to respect that judge. My opinion of a judge is, he should +be like a stickler and see fair play; but this here chap took sides +against Hughie from the first. If I was you," he said, "I wouldn't +trust him with a Petty Sessions." + +"Well, you may think how likely this kind of speech was to please the +Prince Regent. And I've heard that Dan'l; was in the very article of +being pitched out, neck and crop, when he heard a regular caprouse +start up in the antechamber behind him, and a lord-in-waiting, or +whatever he's called, comes in and speaks a word very low to the +Prince. + +"Show him in at once," says he, dropping poor Dan'l's petition upon +the table beside him; and in there walks a young officer with his +boots soiled with riding and the sea-salt in his hair, like as if he'd +just come off a ship; and hands the Prince a big letter. The Prince +hardly cast his eye over what was written before he outs with a lusty +hurrah, as well he might, for this was the first news of the taking of +St. Sebastian. + +"Here's news," said he, "to fill the country with bonfires this +night." + +"Begging your Royal Highness's pardon," answers the officer, +pulling out his watch; "but the mail coaches have left St. Martin's +Lane"--that's where they started from, as I've heard tell--"these +twenty minutes." + +"Damn it!" says Dan'l Best and the Prince Regent, both in one breath. + +"Hulloa! Be you here still?" says the Prince, turning sharp round at +the sound of Dan'l's voice. "And what be you waiting for?" + +"For my brother Hughie's reprieve," says Dan'l. + +"Well, but 'tis too late now, anyway," says the Prince. + +"I'll bet 'tis not," says Dan'l, "if you'll look slippy and make out +the paper." + +"You can't do it. 'Tis over two hundred and fifty miles, and you can't +travel ten miles an hour all the way like the coach." + +"It'll reach Tregarrick to-morrow night," says Dan'l, "an' they won't +hang Hughie till seven in the morning. So I've an hour or two to +spare, and being a post-boy myself, I know the ropes." + +"Well," says his Royal Highness, "I'm in a very good temper because +of this here glorious storming of St. Sebastian. So I'll wager your +brother's life you don't get there in time to stop the execution." + +"Done with you, O King!" says Dan'l, and the reprieve was made out, +quick as lightning. + +Well, sir, Dan'l knew the ropes, as he said; and moreover, I reckon +there was a kind of freemasonry among post-boys; and the two together, +taken with his knowledge o' horseflesh, helped him down the road as +never a man was helped before or since. 'Twas striking nine at night +when he started out of London with the reprieve in his pocket, and by +half-past five in the morning he spied Salisbury spire lifting out of +the morning light. There was some hitch here--the first he met--in +getting a relay; but by six he was off again, and passed through +Exeter early in the afternoon. Down came a heavy rain as the evening +drew in, and before he reached Okehampton the roads were like a bog. +Here it was that the anguish began, and of course to Dan'l, who found +himself for the first time in his life sitting in the chaise instead +of in the saddle, 'twas the deuce's own torment to hold himself still, +feel the time slipping away, and not be riding and getting every ounce +out of the beasts: though, even to _his_ eye, the rider in front +was no fool. But at Launceston soon after daybreak he met with a +misfortune indeed. A lot of folks had driven down overnight to +Tregarrick to witness the day's sad doings, and there wasn't a chaise +to be had in the town for love or money. + +"What do I want with a chaise?" said Dan'l, for of course he was in +his own country now, and everybody knew him. "For the love of God, +give me a horse that'll take me into Tregarrick before seven and save +Hughie's life! Man, I've got a reprieve!" + +"Dear lad, is that so?" said the landlord, who had come down, and was +standing by the hotel door in nightcap and bedgown. "I thought, maybe, +you was hurrying to see the last of your brother. Well, there's but +one horse left in stable, and that's the grey your master sold me two +months back; and he's a screw, as you must know. But here's the stable +key. Run and take him out yourself, and God go with 'ee!" + +None knew better than Dan'l that the grey was a screw. But he ran down +to the stable, fetched the beast out, and didn't even wait to shift +his halter for a bridle, but caught up the half of a broken mop-handle +that lay by the stable door, and with no better riding whip galloped +off bare-back towards Tregarrick. + +Aye, sir, and he almost won his race in spite of all. The hands o' the +town clock were close upon seven as he came galloping over the knap +of the hill and saw the booths below him and sweet-stalls and +standings--for on such days 'twas as good as a fair in Tregarrick--and +the crowd under the prison wall. And there, above them, he could see +the little open doorway in the wall, and one or two black figures +there, and the beam. Just as he saw this the clock struck its first +note, and Dan'l, still riding like a madman, let out a scream, and +waved the paper over his head; but the distance was too great. Seven +times the clapper struck, and with each stroke Dan'l screamed, still +riding and keeping his eyes upon that little doorway. But a second or +two after the last stroke he dropped his arm suddenly as if a bullet +had gone through it, and screamed no more. Less than a minute after, +sir, he pulled up by the bridge on the skirt of the crowd, and looked +round him with a silly smile. + +"Neighbours," says he, "I've a-got great news for ye. We've a-taken +St. Sebastian, and by all acounts the Frenchies'll be drove out of +Spain in less'n a week." + +There was silence in Boutigo's van for a full minute; and then the old +woman spoke from the corner: + +"Well, go on, Sam, and tell the finish to the company." + +"Is there more to tell?" I asked. + +"Yes, sir," said Sam, leaning forward again, and tapping my knee very +gently, "there were _two men_ condemned at Tregarrick, that Assize; +and two men put to death that morning. The first to go was a +sheep-stealer. Ten minutes after, Dan'l saw Hughie his brother led +forth; and stood there and watched, with the reprieve in his hand. +His wits were gone, and he chit-chattered all the time about St. +Sebastian." + + + + +LOVE OF NAOMI. + + +I. + +The house known as Vellan's Rents stands in the Chy-pons over the +waterside, a stone's throw beyond the ferry and the archway where +the toll-keeper used to live. You may know it by its exceeding +dilapidation and by the clouds of steam that issue on the street from +one of its windows. The sill of this window stands a bare foot above +the causeway, and glancing down into the room as you pass, you will +see the shoulders of a woman stooping over a wash-tub. When first I +used to pass this window the woman was called Naomi Bricknell; later +it was Sarah Ann Polgrain; and now it is (euphemistically) Pretty +Alice. One goes and makes way for another, but the wash-tub is always +there and the rheumatic fever; and while these remain they will never +lack, as they have never lacked yet, for a woman to do battle for dear +life between them. + +But my story concerns the first of these only, Naomi Bricknell. She +and her mother occupied two rooms in Vellan's Rents as far back as I +can remember, and were twisted with the fever about once in every six +months. For this they paid one shilling a week rent. If you lift the +latch and push the front door open, you seem at first to be looking +down a well; for a flight of thirty-two steps plunges straight from +the threshold to the quay door and a square of green water there. And +when the sun is on the water at the bottom of this funnel, the effect +is pretty. But taking note of the cold wind that rushes up this +stairway and into the steaming room where the wash-tub stands, you +will understand how it comes that each new tenant takes over the +rheumatic fever as one of the fixtures. + +In a room to the right of the stairway, and facing Naomi's, lived a +middle-aged man who was always known as Long Oliver. This man was a +native of the port, and it was understood that he and Naomi had been +well acquainted, years ago, before he started on his first voyage and +some time before Naomi married. Tiring of the sea in time, he had +found work on the jetties and rented this room for sixpence a week. In +these days he and Naomi rarely spoke to each other beyond exchanging +a "Good-morning" when they met on the stairway, nor did he show any +friendliness beyond tapping at her mother's door and inquiring about +her once a day whenever she happened to be down with the fever. I have +made researches and find that the rest of the house was tenanted at +that time by a working block-maker, with his wife and four children; +a widow and her son just returned from sea with an injured spine; a +young couple without children. But these do not come into the tale. + +Now the history of Naomi was this. She was married at three-and-twenty +to Abe Bricknell, a young sailor of the port, and as steady as a woman +could wish. In the third year of their married life, and a week +after obtaining his certificate, he sailed out of Troy as mate of a +fruit-ship, a barque, that never came back, nor was sighted again +after passing the Lizard lights. + +Naomi--a tall up-standing woman with deep, gentle eyes, like a cow's, +and a firm mouth that seldom spoke--took her affliction oddly. She +neither wailed nor put on mourning. She looked upon it as a matter +between herself and her Maker, and said: + +"God has done this thing to me; therefore I have finished with Him. I +am no man to go and revenge myself by breaking all the Commandments. +But I am a woman and can suffer. Let Him do His worst: I defy Him." + +So she never set foot inside church again, nor offered any worship. +The week long she worked as a laundress, and sat through the Sundays +with her arms folded, gloomily fighting her duel. When the fever +wrenched her arms and lips as she stood by the wash-tub, she set her +teeth and said, "I can stand it. I can match all this with contempt. +He can kill, but that's not beating me." + +Her mother, a large and pale-faced woman of sixty, with an apparently +thoughtful contraction of the lips, in reality due to a habit of +carrying pins in her mouth, watched Naomi anxiously during this period +of her life. And Long Oliver watched her too, though secretly, with +eyes screwed up after the fashion of men who have followed the sea. + +One day he stopped her on the stairs and asked, abruptly: + +"When be you thinkin' to marry again?" + +"Never," she answered, straight and at once, halting with a hand on +her hip and eyeing him. + +"Dear me; but you will, I hope." + +"Not to you, anyway." + +"Laws me, no! I don't want 'ee; haven't wanted 'ee these ten years. +But I'd a reason for askin'." + +"Then I'm sure I don't know what it can be." + +"True--true. Look'ee here, my dear; 'tis ordained for you to marry +agen." + +"Aw? Who by?" + +"Providence." + +Naomi had treated Long Oliver badly in days gone by, but could still +talk to him with more freedom than to other men. Still standing with +a hand on her hip, she let fall a horrible sentence about the +Almighty--all the more horrible in that it came deliberately, without +emphasis, and from quiet lips. + +"Woman!" cried a voice above them. + +They turned, looked up, and saw the bent figure of a man framed in the +street doorway. This was William Geake, who walked in from Gantick +every Saturday to collect the sixpences and shillings of Vellan's +Rents for its landlord, a well-to-do wine and spirit merchant at +Tregarrick. As a man of indisputable probity and an unwearying walker, +Geake was entrusted with many odd jobs of this kind in the country +round, filling in with them such idle corners as his trade of +carpenter and undertaker to Gantick village might leave in the six +working days. On Sundays he put on a long black coat, and became a +Rounder, or Methodist local-preacher, walking sometimes twenty miles +there and back to terrify the inhabitants of outlying hamlets about +their future state. + +"Woman!" cried William Geake, "Down 'pon your knees an' pray God the +roof don't fall on 'ee for your vile words." + +"I reckon," retorted Naomi quietly, with a glance up at the +worm-riddled rafters, "you'd do more good by speakin' to the +landlord." + +William Geake had a high brow and bright, nervous eyes, betokening +enthusiasm; but he had also a long and square jaw that meant +stubbornness. This jaw now began to protrude and his lips to +straighten. + +"Down 'pon your knees!" he repeated. + +Naomi turned her eyes from him to Long Oliver, who leant against the +staircase wall with his arms crossed and a veiled amusement in his +face. With a slightly heightened colour, but no flutter of the voice, +she repeated her blasphemy; and then, pulling a shilling from her worn +purse, tendered it to Geake. This, of course, meant "Mind your own +business"; but he waved her hand aside. + +"Down 'pon your knees, woman!" he shouted thunderously. Then, as she +showed no disposition to obey, he added, grimly, "Eh? but somebody +shall intercede for thee afore thou'rt a minute older." + +And pulling off his hat there and then, he knelt down on the doorstep, +with the soles of his hob-nailed boots showing to the street. + +"Get up, an' don't make yoursel' a may-game," said Naomi hurriedly, as +one or two children stopped their play, and drew around to stare. + +"Father in heaven," began William Geake, in a voice that fetched the +women-folk, all up and down the Chy-pons, to their doors, "Thou, whose +property is ever to have mercy, forgive this blaspheming woman! Suffer +one who is Thy servant, though a grievous sinner, to intercede for her +afore she commits the sin that cannot be forgiven; to pluck her as a +brand from the burning--" + +By this, the women and a loafing man or two had clustered round, and +Colliver's coal-cart had rattled up and come to a standstill. The +Chy-pons is the narrowest street in Troy, and Colliver's driver could +hardly pass now, except over William Geake's legs. + +"Draw in your feet, brother Geake," he called out, "or else pray +short." + +One or two women giggled at this. But Geake did not seem to hear. +For five good minutes he prayed vociferously, as was his custom in +meeting-house; then rose, replaced his hat, dusted his knees, held out +his hand for Naomi's shilling, and wrote her the customary voucher in +his most business-like manner, and without another word. But there was +a triumphant look in his eyes that dared Naomi to repeat her offence, +and she very nearly wept as she felt that the words would not come. +This and the shame of publicity drove her back into her room as Geake +passed down the stairs to collect the other rents. A few women still +hung about the doorway as he emerged, some twenty minutes later. But +he marched down Chy-pons with head erect and eyes fixed straight +ahead. + + +II. + +On the following Saturday, when Geake called, Naomi was standing at +her wash-tub. She had seen him pass the window, and, hurriedly wiping +her hands, and pulling out her shilling, placed it ostentatiously in +the very centre of the deal table by the door; then had just time to +plunge her hands in the soap-suds again before he knocked. Try as she +would, she could not keep back a blush at the remembrance of last +week's scene, and half looked for him to make some allusion to it. + +His extremely business-like air reassured her. She nodded towards +the shilling without removing her hands from the tub. He took it, +including in a polite good-morning both Naomi and her mother, who was +huddled in an arm-chair before the fire and recovering from an attack +of the fever, wrote out his voucher solemnly, set it in the exact spot +where the shilling had stood, took up his hat, hesitated for less than +a second, replaced his hat on the table, and, pulling a chair towards +him, dropped on his knees, and began to pray aloud. + +The old woman by the fire slewed her head painfully round and stared +at him, then at Naomi. But Naomi was standing with her back to them +both, and her hands soaping the linen in the tub--gently, however, and +without any splashing. She therefore let her head sink back on the +cushion, and assumed that peculiarly dejected air, commonly reserved +by her for the consolations of religion. + +On this occasion William Geake prayed in a low and level tone, and +very briefly. He made no allusion to last Saturday, but put up an +earnest petition for blessings upon "our two sisters here," and that +they might learn to accept their appointed portion with resignation, +yea, even with a holy joy. At the end of two minutes he rose, and +was about to dust his knees, after his usual custom, but, becoming +suddenly aware of the difference in cleanliness between Naomi's +lime-ash and the floors of the various meeting-houses of his +acquaintance, refrained. This little piece of delicacy did not escape +Naomi, though her shoulders were still bent over the tub, to all +seeming as resolutely as ever. + +"Well, I swow that was very friendly of Mister Geake!" the old woman +ejaculated, as the door closed behind him. "'Tisn't everybody'd ha' +thought what a comfort a little scrap o' religion can be to an old +woman in my state." + +"He took a great liberty," said Naomi snappishly. + +"Well, he might ha' said as much as 'By your leave,' to be sure; +an' now you say so, 'twas makin' a bit free to talk about our +dependence--an' in my own kitchen too." + +"He meant our dependence on th' Almighty," Naomi corrected, still more +snappishly. "William Geake's an odd-fangled man, but you might give +'en credit for good-feelin'. An', what's more, though I don't hold +wi' Christian talk, if a man have a got beliefs, I respect 'en for +standin' to 'em without shame." + +"But I thought, a moment ago--" her mother began, and then subsided. +She was accustomed to small tangles in her own processes of thought, +and quite incapable, after years of blind acceptance, of correcting +Naomi's logic. + +No more was said on the matter. The next Saturday, after receiving his +shilling, Mr. Geake knelt down without any hesitation. It was clear he +wished this prayer to be a weekly institution, and an institution it +became. + +The women never knelt. Naomi, indeed, had never sanctioned the +innovation, unless by her silence, and her mother assisted only with a +very lugubrious "Amen," being too weak to stir from her chair. As the +months passed, it became evident to Geake that her strength would +never come back. The fever had left her, apparently for good; but the +rheumatism remained, and closed slowly upon the heart. The machine was +worn out. + +When the end came, Naomi had been doing the work single-handed for +close upon twelve months. She could always get a plenty of work, and +now took in a deal too much for her strength, to settle the doctor's +and undertaker's bills, and buy herself a black gown, cape, and +bonnet. The funeral, of course, took place on a Sunday. Geake, on the +Saturday afternoon, knocked gently at Naomi's door. His single +intent was to speak a word or two of sympathy, if she would listen. +Remembering her constant attitude under the Divine scourge, he felt a +trifle nervous. + +But there lay the shilling in the centre of the table, and there stood +Naomi in a cloud of steam, hard at work on an immoderate pile of +washing--even a man's miscalculating eye could see that it was +immoderate. + +"I didn't call--" he began, with a glance towards the shilling. + +"No; I know you didn't. But you may so well take it all the same." + +Geake had rehearsed a small speech, but found himself making out and +signing the voucher as usual; and, as usual, when it was signed, he +drew over a chair, and dropped on his knees. In prayer-meeting he was +a great hand at "improving" an occasion of bereavement; but here again +his will to speak impressively suddenly failed him. His words were: + +"Lord, there were two women grinding at a mill; the one was taken, and +t'other left. She that you took, you've a-carr'd beyond our prayers; +but O, be gentle, be gentle, to her that's left!" + +He arose, and looked shyly, almost shamefacedly, at Naomi. She had not +turned. But her head was bowed; and, drawing near, he saw that the +scalding tears were falling fast into the wash-tub. She had not wept +when her husband was lost, nor since. + +"Go away!" she commanded, before he could speak, turning her shoulders +resolutely towards him. + +He took up his hat, and went out softly, closing the door softly +behind him. + +His eye, which was growing quick to read Naomi's face, saw at once, +as he entered the room a week later, that she deprecated even the +slightest reference to her weakness. It also told him--he had not +guessed it before--that her emotional breakdown had probably more to +do with physical exhaustion than with any eloquence of his. The pile +of washing had grown, and the woman's face was grey with fatigue. + +Geake, as he made out the voucher, cast about for a polite mode of +hinting that this kind of thing must not go on. Nevertheless it was +Naomi who began. + +"Look here," she said, as he put down the voucher; "there ain't goin' +to be no more prayin', eh?" + +"Why, to be sure there is," he answered with a show of great +cheerfulness; and reached for a chair. + +"I'd liefer you didn't. I don't want it. I don't hold by any o't. +You'm very kind," she went on, her voice trembling for an instant and +then recovering its firmness, "and I reckon it soothed mother. But I +reckon it don't soothe me. I reckon it rubs me the wrong way. There's +times, when I hears a body prayin', that I wishes we was Papists again +and worshipped images, that I might throw stones at 'em!" + +She paused, looked up into Geake's devouring eyes, and added, with a +poor attempt at a laugh: + +"So you see, I'm wicked, an' don't want to be saved." + +Then the man broke forth: + +"Saved? No, I reckon you don't! Wicked? Iss, I reckon you be! But +saved you shall be--ay, if you was twice so wicked. Who'll do it? I'll +do it--I alone. I don't want your help. I want to do it in spite of +'ee: an' I'll lay that I do! Be your wickedness deep as hell, an' I'll +reach down a hand to the roots and pluck it up: be your salvation +stubborn as Death, I'll wrestle wi' the Lord for it. If I sell my own +soul for't, yours shall be redeemed!" + +He slammed down his fist on the rickety deal table, which promptly +collapsed flat on the floor, with its four legs splayed under the +circular cover. + +"Bein' a carpenter--" Geake began to stammer apologetically, and in a +totally different tone. + +For a second--two seconds--the issue hung between tears and laughter. +An hysterical merriment twinkled in Naomi's eyes. + +But the strength of Geake's passion saved the situation. He stepped up +to Naomi, laid a hand on each shoulder, and shook her gently to and +fro. + +"Listen to me! As I hold 'ee now, so I take your fate in my hands. +Naomi Bricknell, you've got to be my wife, so make up your mind to +that." + +She cowered a little under his grasp; put out a hand to push him off; +drew it back; and broke into helpless sobbing. But this time she did +not command him to go away. + +Fifteen minutes later William Geake left Vellan's Rents with joy on +his face and a broken table under his arm. + +And two days later Naomi's face wore a look of demure happiness when +Long Oliver stopped her on the staircase and asked, + +"Is it true, what I hear?" + +"It is true," she answered. + +"An' when be the banns called?" + +"There ain't goin' to be no banns." + +"Hey?" + +"There ain't goin' to be no banns; leastways, there ain't goin' to be +none called. We'm goin' to the Registry Office. You look all struck of +a heap. Was you hopin' to be best man?" + +"Well, I reckoned I'd take a hand in the responses," he answered; and +seemed about to say more, but turned on his heel and went back to his +room, shutting the door behind him. + + +III. + +We pass to a Saturday morning, two years later, and to William Geake's +cottage at the western end of Gantick village. + +Naomi had plucked three fowls and trussed them, and wrapping each in a +white napkin, had packed them in her basket with a dozen and a half of +eggs, a few pats of butter, and a nosegay or two of +garden-flowers--Sweet Williams, marigolds, and heart's-ease: for it was +market-day at Tregarrick. Then she put on boots and shawl, tied her +bonnet, and slung a second pair of boots across her arm: for the roads +were heavy and she would leave the muddy pair with a friend who lived at +the entrance of the town, not choosing to appear untidy as she walked up +the Fore Street. These arrangements made, she went to seek her husband, +who was busy planing a coffin-lid in the workshop behind the cottage, +and ruminating upon to-morrow's sermon. + +"You'll be about startin'," he said, lifting his head and pushing his +spectacles up over his eye-brows. + +Naomi set her basket down on his work-table, and drew her breath back +between her teeth--which is the Cornish mode of saying "Yes." "I want +you to make me a couple of skivers," she said. "Aun' Hambly sent over +word she'd a brace o' chicken for me to sell, an' I was to call for +'em: an' I'd be ashamed to sell a fowl the way she skivers it." + +William set down his plane, picked up an odd scrap of wood and cut out +the skewers with his pocket-knife; while Naomi watched with a smile +on her face. Whether or no William had recovered her soul, as he +promised, she had certainly given her heart into his keeping. The love +of such a widow, he found, is as the surrender of a maid, with wisdom +added. + +The skewers finished, he walked out through the house with her and +down the garden-path, carrying the basket as far as the gate. The +scent of pine-shavings came with him. Half-way down the path Naomi +turned aside and picking a sprig of Boy's Love, held it up for him +to smell. The action was trivial, but as he took the sprig they both +laughed, looking in each other's eyes. Then they kissed; and the staid +woman went her way down the road, while the staid man loitered for a +moment by the gate and watched her as she went. + +Now as he took his eyes away and glanced for an instant in the other +direction, he was aware of a man who had just come round the angle of +the garden hedge and, standing in the middle of the road, not a dozen +yards off, was also staring after his wife. + +This stranger was a broad-shouldered fellow in a suit of blue seaman's +cloth, the trousers of which were tucked inside a pair of Wellington +boots. His complexion was brown as a nut, and he wore rings in his +ears: but the features were British enough. A perplexed, ingratiating +and rather silly smile overspread them. + +The two men regarded each other for a bit, and then the stranger drew +nearer. + +"I do believe that was Na'mi," he said, nodding his head after the +woman's figure, that had not yet passed out of sight. + +William Geake opened his eyes wide and answered curtly, "Yes: that's +my wife--Naomi Geake. What then?" + +The man scratched his head, contemplating William as he might some +illegible sign-post set up at an unusually bothersome cross-road. + +"She keeps very han'some, I will say." His smile grew still more +ingratiating. + +"Was you wishin' to speak wi' her?" + +"Well, there! I was an' yet I wasn't. 'Tis terrible puzzlin'. You +don't know me, I dessay." + +"No, I don't." + +"I be called Abe Bricknell--A-bra-ham Bricknell. I used to be +Na'mi's husband, one time. There now"--with an accent of genuine +contrition--"I felt sure 'twould put you out." + +The tongue grew dry in William Geake's mouth, and the sunlight died +off the road before him. He stared at a blister in the green paint of +the garden-gate and began to peel it away slowly with his thumb-nail: +then, pulling out his handkerchief, picked away at the paint that had +lodged under the nail, very carefully, while he fought for speech. + +"I be altered a brave bit," said Naomi's first husband, still with his +silly smile. + +"Come into th' house," William managed to say at last; and turning, +led the way to the door. On his way he caught himself wondering why +the hum of the bees had never sounded so loudly in the garden before: +and this was all he could think about till he reached the doorstep. +Then he turned. + +"Th' Lord's ways be past findin' out," he said, passing a hand over +his eyes. + +"That's so: that's what _I_ say mysel'," the other assented +cheerfully, as if glad to find their wits jumping together. + +"Man!" William rounded on him fiercely. "What's kept 'ee, all these +years? Aw, man, man! do 'ee know what you've done?" + +"I'd a sun-stroke," said the wanderer, tapping his head and still +wearing his deprecatory smile; "a very bad sun-stroke. I sailed in the +_John S. Hancock_. I dessay Na'mi told you about that, eh?" + +"Get on wi' your tale." + +"Pete Hancock was cap'n. The vessel was called after his uncle, you +know, an' the Hancocks had a-bought up most o' the shares in her. +That's how Pete came to be cap'n. We sailed on a Friday--unlucky, I've +heard that is. But Pete said them that laid th' Atlantic cable had +started that day an' broke the spell. Pete had a lot o' tales, but he +made a poor cap'n; no head." + +"Look here," put in "William with desperate calm," I don't want to +know about Peter Hancock." + +"There's not much to know if you did. He made a very poor cap'n, +though it don't become one to say so, now he's gone. An affectionate +man, though, for all his short-comin's. The last time he brought his +vessel home from New Orleans he was in that pore to get back to his +wife an' childer, he ripped along the Gulf Stream and pretty well +ribbed the keelson out of her. Thought, I reckon, that since all the +shareholders belonged to his family th' expense wouldn' be grudged. +But I guess it made her tender. That's how she came to go down so +suddent." + +"She foundered?" + +"I'm comin' to that. We'd just run our nose into the tropics an' was +headin' down for Kingston Harbour--slippin' along at five knots easy +an' steady, an' not a sign of trouble. The time, so far as I can tell, +was somewhere near five bells in the middle watch. I'd turned in, +leavin' Pete on deck, an' was fast asleep; when all of a suddent a +great jolt sent me flyin' out o' the berth. As soon as I got my legs +an' wits again I was up on deck, and already the barque was settlin' +by the head like a burst crock. She'd crushed her breastbone in on a +sunken tramp of a derelict--a dismasted water-logged lump, that maybe +had been washin' about the Atlantic for twenty year' an' more before +her app'inted time came to drift across our fair-way an' settle the +hash o' the _John S. Hancock_. Sir, I reckon she went down inside o' +five minutes. We'd but bare time to get out one boat and push clear +o' the whirl of her. All hands jumped in; she was but a sixteen foot +boat, an' we loaded her down to the gun'l a'most. There was a brave +star-shine, but no moon. Cruel things happen 'pon the sea." + +He passed a hand over his eyes, as if to brush off the film his +sufferings had drawn across them. Then he pursued: + +"Cruel things happen 'pon the sea. We'd no food nor drink but a tin o' +preserved pears; Lord knows how that got there; but 'twas soon done. +Pete had a small compass, a gimcrack affair hangin' to his watch-chain, +an' we pulled by it west-sou'-west towards the nighest land, which we +made out must be some one or another o' the Leeward Islands; but 'twas +more to keep ourselves busy than for aught else: the boat was so low in +the water that even with the Trade to help us, we made but a mile an +hour, an' had to be balin' all day and all night. The third day, as the +sun grew hot, two o' the men went mad. We had to pitch 'em overboard an' +beat 'em off wi' the oars till they drowned: else they'd ha' sunk the +boat. This seemed to hang on Pete's mind, in a way. All the next night +he talked light-headed; said he could hear the dead men hailin' their +names. About midnight he jumped after 'em--to fetch 'em, he said--an' +was drowned. He took his compass with him, but that didn't make much +odds. The boat was lighter now, an' we hadn' to bale. Pretty soon I got +too weak to notice how the men went. I was lyin' wi' my head under the +stern sheets an' only pulled mysel' up, now an' then, to peer out over +the gun'l. I s'pose 'twas the splashes as the men went over that made me +do this. I don't know for certain. There was sharks about: cruel things +happen 'pon the sea. The boat was in a gashly cauch of blood too. One +chap--Jeff Tresawna it was: his mother lived over to Looe--had tried to +open a vein, to drink, an' had made a mess o't an' bled to death. Far as +I know there was no fightin' to eat one another, same as one hears tell +of now an' then. The men just went mad and jumped like sheep: 'twas a +reg'lar disease. Two would go quick, one atop of t'other; an' then +there'd be a long stillness, an' then a yellin' again an' two more +splashes, maybe three. All through it I was dozin', off an' on; an' I +reckon these things got mixed up an' repeated in my head: for our crew +was only sixteen all told, an' it seemed to me I'd heard scores go over. +Anyway I opened my eyes at last--night it was, an' all the stars +blazin'--an' the boat was empty all except me an' Jeff Tresawna, him +that had bled to death. He was lying up high in the bows, wi' his legs +stretched Out towards me along the bottom-boards. There was a twinkle o' +dew 'pon the thwarts an' gun'l, an' I managed to suck my shirt-sleeve, +that was wringin' wet, an' dropped off dozin' again belike. The nex' +thing I minded was a sort o' dream that I was home to Carne again, over +Pendower beach--that's where my father an' mother lived. I heard the +breakers quite plain. The sound of 'em woke me up. This was a little +after daybreak. The sound kept on after I'd opened my eyes, though not +so loud. I took another suck at my shirt-sleeve an' pulled myself up to +my knees by the thwart an' looked over. 'Twas the sound o' broken water, +sure enough, that I'd been hearing; an' 'twas breakin' round half a +dozen small islands, to leeward, between me an' the horizon. I call 'em +islands; but they was just rocks stickin' up from the sea, and birds on +'em in plenty; but otherwise, if you'll excuse the liberty, as bare as +the top o' your head." + +Geake nodded gravely, with set face. + +"I've heard since," went on the seaman, "that these were bits, so to +say, belongin' to the Leeward Islands, about eighty miles sou'west o' +St. Kitt's. Our boat must ha' driven past St. Kitt's, but just out o' +sight; or perhaps we'd passed a peep of it in the night-time. Well, as +you'll be guessin' the boat was pretty nigh to one o' these islands, +or I shouldn' ha' heard the wash. Half a mile off it was, I dessay, +an' a pretty big wash. This was caused by the current, no doubt, for +the wind was nex' to nothin', an' no swell around the boat. What's +more, the current was takin' us, broadside on, pretty well straight +for the rocks. There was no rudder an' only one oar left i' the boat; +an' that was broke off short at the blade. But I managed to slip it +over the starn an' made shift to keep her head straight. Her nose went +bump on the shore, an' then she swung round an' went drivin' past: me +not havin' strength left to put out a hand, much less to catch hold +an' stop the way on us. We might ha' driven past an' off to sea again, +if it hadn' been for a spit o' rock that reached out ahead. This +brought us up short, an' there we lay an' bump'd for a bit. I dessay +it took me half an hour to get out over the side: an' all the time I +kept hold o' the broken oar. I dunno why I did this: but it saved my +life afterwards. Hav'ee got such a thing as a drop o' cider in the +house?" + +"We go upon temperance principles here," said Geake. He rose and +brought a jug of water and a glass. + +"That'll do," said the wanderer, and helped himself. "Na'mi used to +take a glass o' beer wi' her meals, I remember. Well, as I was agoin' +to tell you, havin' got out o' the boat, I'd just sense enough left to +clamber up above high-water mark, an' there I sat starin' stupid-like +an' wonderin' how I'd done it. Down below, the boat was heavin' i' the +wash an' joltin' 'pon the rocks, an' I watched her--bump, bump, up an' +down, up an' down--wi' Jeff jamm'd by the shoulders i' the bows, and +glazin' up at me wi' a silly blank face, like as if he couldn' make it +all out. As the tide rose him up nearer, I crawled away further up. +Seemed to me he an' the boat was after me like a sick dream, an' I +grinned every time the timbers gave an extry loud crack. At last her +bottom was stove, an' she filled very quiet an' went down. The wind +was fresher by this an' some heavy clouds comin' up. Then it rained. +I don't rightly know if this was the same day or no: can't fit in the +days an' nights. But it rained heavy. There was a quill-feather lyin' +close by my hand--the rock was strewed wi' feathers an' the birds' +droppin's--an' with it I tried to get at the rain-water that was +caught in the crannies o' the rocks. While I was searchin' about I +came across an egg. It was stinkin', but I ate it. After that, feelin' +a bit stronger, I'd a mind to fix up the oar for a mark, in case any +vessel passed near an' me asleep or too weak to make a signal. I found +a handy chink i' the rock to plant it in, an' a rovin' pain I had in +my stomach while I was fixin' it. That was the egg, I dessay. An' my +head in a maze, too: but I'd sense enough to think now what a fool +I was not to have took Jeff's shirt off'n, to serve me for a flag. +Hows'ever, my own bein' wringin' wet, an' the sun pretty strong just +then, I slipped it off an' hitched it atop o' the oar to dry an' be a +flag at the same time, till I could rig up some kind o' streamer, out +o' the seaweed. An' then I was forced to vomit. And that's about the +last thing, Mister Geake, I can mind doin'. 'Tis all foolishness after +that. They tell me that a 'Merican schooner, the _Shawanee_, sighted +my shirt flappin', an' sent a boat an' took me off an' landed me at +New Orleens. My head was bad--oh, very bad--an' they put me in a +'sylum an' cured me. But they took eight year' over it, an' I doubt if +'tis much of a job after all. I wasn' bad all the time, I must tell +you, sir; but 'tis only lately my mem'ry would work any further back +'n the wreck o' the barque. Everything seemed to begin an' end wi' +that. 'Tis about a year back that some visitors came to the 'sylum. +There was a lady in the party, an' something in her face, when she +spoke to me, put me in mind o' Na'mi, an' I remembered I was a married +man. Inside of a fortnight, part by thinkin'--'tis hard work still +for me to think--part by dreamin', I'd a-worried it all out. I was +betterin' fast by that. Soon as I was well enough to be discharged, I +worked my passage home in a grain ship, the _Druid_, o' Liverpool. I +was reckonin' all the way back that Na'mi'd be main glad to see me +agen. But now I s'pose she won't." + +"It'll come nigh to killin' her." + +"I dessay, now, you two have got to be very fond? She used to be a +partic'lar lovin' sort o' woman." + +"I love her more 'n heaven!" William broke out; and then cowered as if +he half expected to be struck with lightning for the words. + +"I heard of her havin' married, down at the Fifteen Balls, at Troy. I +dropped in there to pick up the news." + +"What! You've been tellin' folks who you be!" + +"Not a word. First of all I was minded to play off a little surprise +'pon old Toms, the landlord, who didn' know me from Adam. But hearin' +this, just as I was a-leadin' up to my little joke, I thought maybe +'twould annoy Na'mi. She used to be very strict in some of her +notions." + +William Geake took two hasty turns up and down the little parlour. His +Bible, in which before breakfast he had been searching for a text, +lay open on the side table. Behind its place on the shelf was a +small skivet he had let into the wall; and in that drawer was stored +something over twenty-five pounds, the third of his savings. Geake +kept a bank-account, and the balance lay at interest with Messrs. +Climo and Hodges, of St. Austell. But he had the true countryman's +aversion to putting all his eggs in one basket; and although Messrs. +Climo and Hodges were safe as the Bank of England, preferred to keep +this portion of his wealth in his own stocking. He closed the Bible +hastily; rammed it back, upside down, in its place; then took it out +again, and stood holding it in his two hands and trembling. He was +living in sin: he was minded to sin yet deeper. And yet what had he +done to deserve Naomi in comparison with the unspeakable tribulations +this simple mariner had suffered? Sure, God must have preserved the +fellow with especial care, and of wise purpose brought him through +shipwreck, famine, and madness home to his lawful wife. The man had +made Naomi a good husband. Had William Geake made her a better? +(Husband?)--here he dropped the Bible down on the table again as if it +burned his fingers. Whatever had to be done must be done quickly. Here +was the innocent wrecker of so much happiness hanging on his lips for +the next word, watching wistfully for his orders, like any spaniel +dog. And Naomi would be back before nightfall. God was giving him no +time: it was unfair to hustle a man in this way. In the whirl of his +thoughts he seemed to hear Naomi's footfall drawing nearer and nearer +home. He could almost upbraid the Almighty here for leaving him and +Naomi childless. A child would have made the temptation irresistible. + +"I wish a'most that I'd never called, if it puts you out so terrible," +was the wanderer's plaintive remark after two minutes of silent +waiting. + +This sentence settled it. The temptation _was_ irresistible. Geake +unlocked the skivet, plunged a hand in and banged down a fistful of +notes on the table. + +"Here," said he; "here's five-an'-twenty pound'. You shall have it all +if you'll go straight out o' this door an' back to America." + + +IV. + +Half-an-hour later, William Geake was standing by his garden-gate +again. Every now and then he glanced down the road towards St. +Austell, and after each glance resumed his nervous picking at the +blister of green paint that had troubled him earlier in the day. He +was face to face with a new and smaller, but sufficiently vexing, +difficulty. Abe Bricknell had gone, taking with him the five +five-pound notes. So far so good, and cheap at the price. But the +skivet was empty: and the day was Saturday: and every Saturday +evening, as regularly as he wound up the big eight-day clock in the +kitchen, Naomi and he would sit down and count over the money. True he +had only to go to St. Austell and Messrs. Climo and Hodges would let +him draw five new notes. The numbers would be different, and Naomi +(prudent woman) always took note of the numbers: but some explanation +might be invented. The problem was: How to get to St. Austell and back +before Naomi's return? The distance was too great to be walked in +the time; and besides, the coffin must be ready by nightfall. He had +promised it; he was known for a man of his word; and owing to the +morning's interruption it would be a tough job to finish, at the +best. There was no help for it; and--so easy is the descent of +Avernus--Geake's unaccustomed wits were already wandering in a +wilderness of improbable falsehoods, when he heard the sound of wheels +up the road, and Long Oliver came along in Farmer Lear's red-wheeled +trap and behind Farmer Lear's dun-coloured mare. As he drew near at a +trot he eyed Geake curiously, and for a moment seemed inclined to pull +up, but thought better of it, and was passing with no more than a nod +of the head and "good-day." + +It was unusual, though, to see Long Oliver driving a horse and trap; +and Geake, moreover, had a sudden notion. + +"Good-mornin'," he answered; "whither bound?" + +"St. Austell. I've a bit of business to do, so I'm takin' a holiday; +in style, as you see." + +"I wonder now," Geake suggested, forgetting all about the coffin, "if +you'd give me a lift. I was just thinkin' this moment that I'd a bit +o' business there that had clean slipped my mind this week." + +This was transparently false to any one acquainted with Geake's +methodical habits. Long Oliver screwed up his eyes. + +"Can't, I'm afraid. I'm engaged to take up old Missus Oke an' her +niece at Tippet's corner; an' the niece's box. The gal's goin' in to +St. Austell, into service. So there's no room. But if there's any +little message I can take--" + +"When'll you be back?" + +"Somewhere's about five I'll be passin'." + +"Would 'ee mind waitin' a moment? I've a cheque I want cashed at Climo +and Hodges for a biggish sum: but you'm a man I can trust to bring +back the money safe." + +"Sutt'nly," said Long Oliver. + +Geake went into the house and wrote a short letter to the bankers. +He asked them to send back by messenger, and in return for cheque +enclosed, the sum of twenty-five pounds, in five new five-pound notes. +He was aware (he said) that the balance of his running account was but +a pound or two: but as they held something over fifty pounds of his on +deposit, he felt sure they would oblige him and enable him to meet a +sudden call. + +"Twenty-five pounds is the sum," he explained; "an' you must be sure +to get it in five-pound notes--_new five-pound notes_. You'll not +forget that?" He closed the envelope and handed it up to Long Oliver, +who buttoned it in his breast-pocket. + +"You shall have it, Mr. Geake, by five o'clock this evenin'," said he, +giving the reins a shake on the mare's back; "so 'long!" and he rattled +off. + +A mile, and a trifle more, beyond Geake's cottage, he came in sight +of a man clad in blue sailor's cloth, trudging briskly ahead. Long +Oliver's lips shaped themselves as if to whistle; but he made no sound +until he overtook the pedestrian, when he pulled up, looked round in +the man's face, and said-- + +"Abe Bricknell!" + +The sailor came to a sudden halt, and went very white in the face. + +"How do you know my name?" he asked, uneasily. + +"'Recognised 'ee back in Troy, an' borrowed this here trap to drive +after 'ee. Get up alongside. I've summat to say to 'ee." + +Bricknell climbed up without a word, and they drove along together. + +"Where was you goin'?" Long Oliver asked, after a bit. + +"To Charlestown." + +"To look for a ship?" + +"Yes." + +"Goin' back to America?" + +"Yes." + +"You've been callin' on William Geake: an' you didn' find Naomi at +home." + +"Geake don't want it known." + +"That's likely enough. You've got twenty-five pound' o' his in your +pocket." + +Abe Bricknell involuntarily put up a hand to his breast. + +"Ay, it's there," said Long Oliver, nodding. "It's odd now, but I've +got twenty-five pound in gold in _my_ pocket; an' I want you to swop." + +"I don't take ye, Mister--" + +"Long Oliver, I'm called in common. Maybe you remembers me?" + +"Why, to be sure! I thought I minded your face. But still I don't take +your meanin' azactly." + +"I didn' suppose you would. So I'm goin' to tell 'ee. Fourteen year' +back I courted Naomi, an' she used me worse 'n a dog. Twelve year' +back she married you. Nine year' back you went to sea in the _John S. +Hancock_, an' was wrecked off the Leeward Isles an' cast up on a spit +o' rock. I'd been hangin' about New Orleens, just then, at a loose +end, an' bein' in want o' cash, took a scamper in the _Shawanee_, a +dirty tramp of a schooner knockin' in an' out and peddlin' notions +among the West Indy Islanders. As you know we caught sight o' your +signal an' took you off, an' you went to a mad-house. You was clean +off your head an' didn' know me from Adam; an' I never let on that I +knew you or the ship you'd sailed in. 'Seemed to me the hand o' God +was in it, an' I saw my way to cry quits wi' Naomi." + +"I don't see." + +"I don't suppose you do. But 'twas this way:--Naomi (thinks I) 'll be +givin' this man up afore long. She's a takeable woman, an' by-'n-bye, +some new man'll set eyes on her. Then, thinks I, her banns'll be +called in Church, an' I'll be there an' forbid 'em. Do 'ee see now?" + +"That was very clever o' you," replied the simple seaman, and added +with obvious sincerity, "I'm sure I should never ha' thought 'pon +anything so clever as that. But why didn' you carry it out?" + +"Because God Almighty was cleverer. Times an' times I'd pictured it up +in my head how 'twould all work out; an' the parson in his surplice +stuck all of a heap; an' the heads turnin' to look; an' the women +faintin'. An' when the moment came for a man to claim her, what d'ye +think she did? But there, a head like yours 'd never guess--_why she +went to a Registry Office, an' there weren't no banns at all_. That +overcame me. I seed the wisdom o' Providence from that hour. I be a +converted man. An' I'm damned if I'll let you come along an' upset the +apple-cart after all these years. Can 'ee write?" + +"Tolerable, though I'm no hand at spellin'." + +"Very well. We'll have a drink together at St. Austell, an' while +we're there you shall do up Geake's notes in an envelope with a note +sayin' your compliments, but on second thoughts you couldn't think o' +takin' his money." + +Bricknell's face fell somewhat. + +"You gowk! You'll have twenty-five pound' o' mine in exchange: solid +money, an' my own earnin's. I've more 'n that in my pocket here." + +"But I don't see why _you_ should want to give me money." + +"An' you'm too mad to see if I explained. 'Tis a matter o' conscience, +an' you may take it at that. When the letter's wrote--best not sign +it, by the way, for fear of accidents--you give it to me an' I'll see +Geake gets it to-night. After that's written I'll pay your fare to +Liverpool, an' then you'll get a vessel easy. Now I see your mouth +openin' and makin' ready to argue--" + +"I was goin' to say, Long Oliver, that you seem to be actin' very +noble, now: but 'twas a bit hard on _me_, your holdin' your tongue as +you did." + +"So 'twas, so 'twas. I reckon some folks is by nature easy forgotten, +an' you'm one. If that's your character, I hope to gracious you'm +goin' to keep it up. An' twenty-five pound' is a heap o' money for +such a man as you." + +"It is," the wanderer asserted. "Ay, I feel that." + +At twenty minutes to five that evening, Long Oliver pulled up again by +the green garden-gate. William Geake from his workshop had caught the +sound of the mare's hoofs three minutes before, and awaited him. + +"One, two, three, four, five." The notes were counted out +deliberately. Long Oliver, having been thanked, gathered up his reins +and suddenly set them down again. + +"Dear me," said he, "if I hadn' almost forgot! I've a letter for 'ee, +too." + +"Eh?" + +"Iss. A kind of a sailor-like lookin' chap came up to me i' the Half +Moon yard as I was a takin' out the mare. 'Do you come from Gantick?' +says he, seein' no doubt Farmer Lear's name 'pon the cart. 'There or +thereabouts,' says I. 'Know Mister W. Geake?' says he. 'Well,' says +I. 'Then, if you're passin', I wish you'd give 'en this here letter,' +says he, an' that's all 'e said." + +"I wonder who 'twas," said Geake. But his face was white. + +"Don't know 'en by sight. Said 'e was in a great hurry for to catch +the up train. Which puts me i' mind I must be movin' on. Good-night +t'ye, neighbour!" + +As soon as he had turned the corner, Geake opened the letter. + + * * * * * + +When Naomi returned, half-an-hour later, she found him standing at the +gate as if he had spent the day there: as, indeed, he might have, for +all the work done to the coffin. + +"I must bide up to-night an' finish that job," he said, when they were +indoors and she began asking how in the world he had been spending his +time. "I've been worryin' mysel' all day." + +"It's those sermons agen," Naomi decided. "They do your head no good, +an' I wish you'd give up preachin'." + +"Now that's just what I'm goin' to do," he answered, pushing the +Bible far into the shelf till its edges knocked on the wood of the +skivet-drawer. + + + + +THE PRINCE OF ABYSSINIA'S POST-BAG. + + +I.--AN INTERRUPTION: + +_From Algernon Dexter, writer of Vers de Societe, London, to Rasselas, +Prince of Abyssinia_. + + +My dear prince,--Our correspondence has dwindled of late. Indeed, I do +not remember to have heard from you since I wrote to acknowledge your +kindness in standing godfather to my boy Jack (now rising two), and +the receipt of the beautiful scimitar which, as a christening present, +accompanied your consent. Still I do not forget the promise you +exacted from "Q." and myself after lunch at the Mitre, on the day when +we took our bachelors' degrees together--that if in our paths through +life we happened upon any circumstance that seemed to throw fresh +light on the dark, complex workings of the human heart, or at least +likely to prove of interest to a student of his fellow men, we would +write it down and despatch it to you, under cover of The Negus. During +the months of my engagement to Violet these communications of mine +(you will allow) were frequent enough: since our marriage they have +grown shamefully fewer. Possibly I lose alertness while I put on +flesh: it is the natural hebetudus of happiness. "Q."--who is never +seen now upon London stones--no doubt sends you a plenty of what +passes for news in that parish which it is his humour to prefer to the +Imperial City. But, believe me, the very finest romance is still to be +had in London: and to prove this I am going to tell you a story that, +upon my soul, Prince, will make you sit up. + +Until last night the Seely-Hardwickes were a force in this capital. +They were three,--Seely-Hardwicke himself, who owned a million or +more, and to my knowledge drank Hollands and smoked threepenny Returns +in his Louis Quinze library; Mrs. Seely-Hardwicke, as beautiful as +the moon and clever to sinfulness; and Billy, their child, aged +seven-and-a-half. To-day their whereabouts would be as difficult to +find as that of the boy in Mrs. Hemans's ballad. You jump to the guess +that they have lost their money. You are wrong. + +It was amassed in the canned-fruit trade, which, I understand, +does not fluctuate severely, though doubtless in the last instance +dependent on the crops. Seely-Hardwicke and his wife were ready to +lose any amount of it at cards, which accounts for a measure of their +success. It had been found (with Mrs. Seely-Hardwicke) somewhere +on the Pacific Slope, by a destitute Yorkshireman who had tired of +driving rivets on the Clyde and betaken himself across the Atlantic, +for a change, in front of a furnace some thirty-odd feet below decks. +Of his adventures in the Great Republic nothing is known but this, +that he drove into the silence of its central plain at the tail of a +traction engine and emerged on its western shore, three years later, +with a wife, a child and a growing pile. With this pile there grew +a desire to spend it in his own country; and the family landed at +Liverpool on Billy's sixth birthday. I think their double-barrelled +name must have been invented by Mrs. Seely-Hardwicke on the voyage. + +I first made Billy's acquaintance in the Row, where a capable groom +was teaching him to ride a very small skewbald pony. This happened in +the week after our Jack was born, when I was perforce companionless: +but as soon as Violet could ride again, she too fell a victim to the +red curls and seraphic face of this urchin. And so, when Billy's +mother began, later in the season, to appear in the Row, Billy (now +promoted to a larger pony) introduced us in his own fashion and we +quickly made friends. By this time she had been "presented," and was +fairly on her feet in London: and henceforward her career resembled +not so much a conquest as the progress of a Roman Emperor. I am not +referring to the vulgar achievements of mere wealth. Wherever these +people went, to be sure, they left outposts--a Mediterranean villa, +a deer forest behind the Grampians, small Saturday-to-Monday +establishments beside the Thames and the North Sea, and furnished +abodes on short leases near Newmarket and Ascot Heaths; not to mention +nomadic trifles such as houseboats and yachts. Any one with money can +purchase these, and any one having a cook can fill them with people +of a sort. The quality of Mrs. Seely-Hardwicke's success was seen in +this, that from the first she knew none but the right people: and +though, as her circle widened, it included names of higher and yet +higher lustre, yet (if I may press a somewhat confused metaphor) its +rings were concentric and hardly distinct. She never, I believe, was +forced to drop an old acquaintance because she had found a new one. +The just estimate of our Western manners which you, my dear Prince, +formed at Balliol, will enable you to grasp the singularity of such a +triumph. Its rapidity, I must admit, perplexes me still. But in +those old days we studied Arnold Toynbee overmuch and neglected +the civilising influences of the card-table. By the time the +Seely-Hardwickes took their house near Hyde Park Corner, philanthropy +was beginning to stale and our leaders to perceive that the +rejuvenation of society must be effected (if at all) not by bestowing +money on the poor, but by losing it to the rich. Seely-Hardwicke +himself was understood to spend most of his time in the City, looking +after the interests of canned fruits and making small fortunes out of +his redundant cash. + +You will readily understand that we soon came to see little of our new +acquaintances. A small private income and the trivial wage commanded +by society verses in this country (so different in many respects from +Abyssinia) confined us to a much narrower orbit. But we were invited +pretty often to their dinners, and the notes I have given you were +taken on these occasions. Last night there were potentates at Mrs. +Seely-Hardwicke's--several imported, and one of British growth. +To-day--but you shall hear it in the fewest words. + +Three days back, Billy failed to turn up in the Row. We met his mother +riding alone and asked the reason. She told us the child had a cough +and something of a sore throat and she thought it wiser to keep him at +home. + +On the next day, and yesterday, he was still absent. In the evening we +went to the Seely-Hardwicke's dance. The thing was wonderfully done. +An exuberant vegetation that suggested a virgin forest was qualified +by the presence of several hundred people. It was impossible to dance +or to feel lonely; and our hostess looked radiant as the moon in +the reflected rays of her success. We shook hands with her and were +swallowed in the crowd. + +About half-an-hour later, as I watched the crush from a recess beside +an open window and listened to the waltz that the band was playing, +Seely-Hardwicke himself thrust his way towards me. He was crumpled and +perspiring copiously: but the glory of it all sat on his blunt face +yet more openly than on his wife's lovely features. + +"I've not been here above ten minutes," he explained. "Had to run +down to Liverpool suddenly last night, and only reached King's Cross +something less 'n an hour back. Quick work." + +"How's Billy?" I asked, after a few commonplace words. + +"Off colour, still. I went up to see him, just now: but the nurse +wouldn't let him be disturbed; said he was sleepin'. Best thing for +him. You'll see him out, as lively as a lark, to-morrow." + +"And getting stopped, as usual, by the police for expounding his idea +of a canter in the Ladies' Mile." + +He laughed. "Hey? I like that. I like spirit. He looks fragile--he's +like his mother for that--but they're game every inch, the pair of +'em. You may think me silly, but I don't know that I can last out this +without runnin' up to have a look at him. I haven't seen him for two +days." + +I believe he was on the point of launching out into any number +of fatherly confidences. But at this point he was claimed by an +acquaintance some ten paces off; and, plunging among his guests, was +lost to me. + +I cannot tell you, my dear Prince, how much time elapsed between this +and the arrival of the home-grown Potentate--as you must allow me to +call him until we meet and I can whisper his august name. But I know +that shortly after his arrival, while I still loafed in my recess and +hoped that Violet would soon drift in my direction and allow herself +to be taken home, the throng around me began to thin in a most curious +manner. How it happened--whence it started and how it spread--I cannot +tell you. Only it seemed as if something began to be whispered, and +the whisper melted the crowd like sugar. Almost before I grew aware +of what was happening, I could see the far side of the room, and the +Potentate there by Mrs. Seely-Hardwicke's side; and could mark their +faces. His was cast in a polite, but slightly rigid smile. His eyes +wandered. That supernumerary sense which all his family possesses had +warned him that something was wrong. Mrs. Seely-Hardwicke's face was +white as chalk, though her eyes returned his smile. + +At this moment Violet came towards me. + +"Take me home," she commanded, but under her breath. As she said it +she shivered. + +"What on earth is the matter?" I demanded. + +She pulled me by the sleeve. I looked up and saw a white-haired man, +of military carriage, walking towards His Royal Highness. He came to +a halt, a pace off, and stood as if anxious to speak. I saw also +that Mrs. Seely-Hardwicke would not allow him a chance, but talked +desperately. I saw groups of people, up and down the room, regarding +her even as we. And then the door was flung open. + +Seely-Hardwicke came running in with Billy in his arms--or rather, +with Billy's body. The child had died at four that afternoon, of +diphtheria. + +I got Violet out of the room as soon as I could. The man's language +was frightful--filthy. And his wife straightened herself up and +answered him back. It was a babel of obscene Frisco curses: but I +remember one clear sentence of hers from the din-- + +"You--, you! And d'ye think _my_ heart won't go to pieces when my +stays are cut?" + + * * * * * + +All the way home Violet kept sobbing and crying out that she was never +driven so slowly. She was convinced that some harm had happened to +her own Jack. She ran up to the night-nursery at once and woke your +god-child out of a healthy sleep. And he arose in his full strength +and yelled. + + +II.--THE GREAT FIRE ON FREETHY'S QUAY. + +_From "Q_." + + +Troy Town. + +New Year's Eve, 1892. + +MY DEAR PRINCE,--The New Year is upon us, a season which the devout +Briton sets aside for taking stock of his short-comings. I know not if +Prester John introduced this custom among the Abyssinians: but we find +it very convenient here. + +In particular I have been vexing myself to-day over the gradual +desuetude of our correspondence. Doubtless the fault is mine: and +doubtless I compare very poorly with Dexter, whose letters are bound +to be bright and frequent. But Dexter clings to London; and from +London, as from your own Africa, _semper aliquid novi_. But of Troy +during these twelve months there has been little or nothing to delate. +The small port has been enjoying a period of quiet which even the +General Election, last summer, did not seriously disturb. As you know, +the election turned on the size of mesh proper to be used in the +drift-net fishery. We wore favours of red, white and blue, symbolising +our hatred of the mesh favoured by Mr. Gladstone; and carried our man. +Had other constituencies as sternly declined to fritter away their +voting strength upon side issues, Lord Salisbury would now be in power +with a solid majority at his back. + +My purpose, however, is not to talk of politics, but to give you +a short description of an event which has greatly excited us, and +redeemed from monotony (though at the eleventh hour) the year Eighteen +ninety-two. I refer to the great fire on Freethy's Quay, where Mr. Wm. +Freethy has of late been improving his timber-store with a number of +the newest mechanical inventions; among others, with a steam engine +which operates on a circular saw, and impels it to cut up oak poles +(our winter fuel) with incredible rapidity. It was here that the +outbreak occurred, on Christmas Eve--of all days in the year--between +five and six o'clock in the afternoon. + +But I should first tell you that our town has enjoyed a long immunity +from fires; and although we possess a Volunteer Fire Brigade, at once +efficient and obliging, and commanded by Mr. Patrick Sullivan (an +Irishman), the men have had little or no opportunity of combating +their sworn foe. The Brigade was founded in the early autumn of 1873, +and presented by public subscription with a handsome manual engine and +a wooden house to contain it. This house, painted a bright vermilion, +is a conspicuous object at the top of the hill above the town, as +you turn off towards the Rope-walk. The firemen, of course, wear an +appropriate uniform, with brazen helmets and shoulder-straps and a +neat axe apiece, suspended in a leathern case from the waistband. But +the spirit of make-believe has of necessity animated all their public +exercise, if I except the 13th of April, 1879, when a fire broke out +in the back premises of Mr. Tippett, carpenter. His shop was (and +is) situated in the middle of the town, and in those days a narrow +gatehouse gave, or rather prevented, access to the town on either +side. These houses stood, one at the extremity of North Street, beside +the Ferry Slip, the other at the south end of the Fore Street, where +it turns the corner by the Ship Inn and mounts Lostwithiel Hill. With +their low-browed arches, each surmounted by a little chamber for the +toll-keeper, they recalled in an interesting manner the days when +local traffic was carried on solely by means of pack-horses; but by an +unfortunate oversight their straitness had been left out of account by +the donors of the fire-engine, which stuck firmly in the passage below +Lostwithiel Hill and could be drawn neither forwards nor back, thus +robbing the Brigade of the result of six years' practice. For the +engine filled up so much of the thoroughfare that the men could +neither climb over nor round it, but were forced to enter the town by +a circuitous route and find, to their chagrin, Mr. Tippett's premises +completely gutted. For three days all our traffic entered and left +the town perforce by the north side; but two years after, on the +completion of the railway line to Troy, these obstructive gatehouses +were removed, to give passage to the new Omnibus. + +Let me proceed to the story of our more recent alarm. At twenty +minutes to five, precisely, on Christmas Eve, Mr. Wm. Freethy left his +engine-room by the door which opens on the Quay; turned the key, which +he immediately pocketed; and proceeded towards his mother's house, at +the western end of the town, where he invariably takes tea. The wind +was blowing strongly from the east, where it had been fixed for three +days, and the thermometer stood at six degrees below freezing. +Indeed, I had remarked, early in the morning, that an icicle of quite +respectable length (for a small provincial town), depended from the +public water-tap under the Methodist Chapel. About twenty minutes +after Mr. Freethy's departure, some children, who were playing about +the Quay, observed dense volumes of smoke (as they thought) issuing +from under the engine-room door. They gave the alarm. I happened to +be in the street at the time, purchasing muscatels for the Christmas +snap-dragon, and, after rushing up to the Quay to satisfy myself, +proceeded with all haste to Mr. Sullivan, Captain of the Brigade. + +I found him at tea, but behaving in a somewhat extraordinary manner. +It is well known that Mr. and Mrs. Sullivan suffer occasionally from +domestic disagreement, due, in great measure, to the lady's temper. +Mr. Sullivan was sitting at the table with a saucer inverted upon his +head, a quantity of tea-leaves matted in his iron-grey hair, and their +juice trickling down his face. On hearing my alarming intelligence, he +said: + +"I had meant to sit there for some time; indeed, until my little boy +returns with the Vicar, whom I have sent for to witness the effects of +my wife's temper. I was sitting down to tea when I heard a voice +in the street calling 'Whiting!'--a fish of which I am extremely +fond--and ran out to procure threepenny worth. On my return, my wife +here--I suppose, because she objects to clean the fish--assaulted me +in the manner you behold." + +With praiseworthy public spirit, however, Mr. Sullivan forewent his +revenge, and, having cleansed his hair, ran with all speed to get out +the fire-engine. + +Returning to the Quay, at about 5 p.m., I found a large crowd +assembled before the engine-room door, from which the vapour was +pouring in dense clouds. The Brigade came rattling up with their +manual in less than ten minutes. As luck would have it, this was just +the hour when the mummers, guise dancers and darkey-parties were +dressing up for their Christmas rounds; and the appearance +presented by the crowd in the deepening dusk would, in less serious +circumstances, have been extremely diverting. Two of the firemen wore +large moustaches of burnt cork beneath their helmets, and another (who +was cast to play the Turkish Knight) had found no time to remove the +bright blue dye he had been applying to his face. The pumpmaker had +come as Father Christmas, and the blacksmith (who was forcing the +door) looked oddly in an immense white hat, a flapping collar and a +suit of pink chintz with white bone buttons. He had not accomplished +his purpose when I heard a shout, and, looking up the street, saw Mr. +Wm. Freethy approaching at a brisk run. He is forty-three years old, +and his figure inclines to rotundity. The wind, still in the east, +combined with the velocity of his approach to hold his coat-tails in a +line steadily horizontal. In his right hand he carried a large slice +of his mother's home-made bread, spread with yellow plum jam; a +semicircular excision of the crumb made it plain that he had been +disturbed in his first mouthful. The crowd parted and he advanced to +the door; laid his slice of bread and jam upon the threshold; searched +in his fob pocket for the key; produced it; turned it in the lock; +picked up his bread and jam again; opened the door; took a bite; and +plunged into the choking clouds that immediately enveloped his person. + +While the concourse waited, in absolute silence, the atmosphere of the +engine-house cleared as if by magic, and Mr. Wm. Freethy was visible +again in the converging rays of six bull's-eye lanterns held forward +by six members of the Fire Brigade. One hand still held the bread and +jam; the other grasped a stop-cock which he had that instant turned, +shutting off the outpour of steam we had taken for smoke. Some one +tittered; but the general laugh was prevented by a resounding splash. +The recoiling crowd had backed against the fire-engine outside, and +inadvertently thrust it over the Quay's edge into two fathoms of +water! + +We left it there till the tide should turn, and forming into +procession, marched back through the streets. I never witnessed +greater enthusiasm. I do not believe Troy held a man, woman, or child +that did not turn out of doors to cheer and laugh. Presently a verse +sprang up:-- + + "_The smoke came out at Freethy's door, + An' down came Sullivan with his corps. + 'My dears,' says Freethy,' don't 'ee pour! + For the smoke be steam an' nothin' more-- + But what hav' 'ee done wi' the En-gine_?'" + +And the firemen, by shouting it as heartily as the rest, robbed the +epigram of all its sting. + +But the best of it, my dear Prince, was still to come. For at +half-past eight (that being the time of low water) a salvage corps +assembled and managed to drag the engine ashore by means of stout +tackle hitched round the granite pedestal that stands on Freethy's +Quay to commemorate the visit of Queen Victoria and Prince Albert, who +landed there on the 8th of September, 1846. The guise-dancers paraded +it through the streets until midnight, when they gave it over to the +carollers, who fed it with buckets; and as the poor machine was but +little damaged, brisk jets of water were made to salute the citizens' +windows simultaneously with the season's holy songs. I, who have a +habit of sleeping with my window open, received an icy shower-bath +with the opening verse of "Christians, awake! Salute the Happy +Morn...." + +On Saturday next the Brigade assembles for a Grand Salvage Banquet in +the Town Hall. There will be speeches. Accept, my dear Prince, all +possible good wishes for the New Year.... + +"Q." + + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Delectable Duchy +by Arthur Thomas Quiller-Couch + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DELECTABLE DUCHY *** + +***** This file should be named 12277-8.txt or 12277-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/2/2/7/12277/ + +Produced by Ted Garvin, Josephine Paolucci and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Delectable Duchy + +Author: Arthur Thomas Quiller-Couch + +Release Date: May 6, 2004 [EBook #12277] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DELECTABLE DUCHY *** + + + + +Produced by Ted Garvin, Josephine Paolucci and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. + + + + + +THE DELECTABLE DUCHY + + +BY Q + +1906 + + + + +SHORT STORY + +To + +ALFRED PARSONS + + + + +CONTENTS + + +PROLOGUE +THE SPINSTER'S MAYING +DAPHNIS +WHEN THE SAP ROSE +THE PAUPERS +CUCKOO VALLEY RAILWAY +THE CONSPIRACY ABOARD THE "MIDAS" +LEGENDS OF ST. PIRAN. + I St. Piran: the Millstone + II St. Piran: the Visitation +IN THE TRAIN. + I. Punch's Understudy + II. A Corrected Contempt +WOON GATE +FROM A COTTAGE IN GANTICK. + I. The Mourner's Horse + II. Silhouettes +THE DRAWN BLIND +A GOLDEN WEDDING +SCHOOL FRIENDS +PARENTS AND CHILDREN. + I. The Family Bible + II. Boanerges +TWO MONUMENTS +EGG-STEALING +SEVEN-AN'-SIX +THE REGENT'S WAGER +LOVE OF NAOMI +THE PRINCE OF ABYSSINIA'S POST-BAG. + I. An Interruption + II. The Great Fire on Freethy's Quay + + + + +PROLOGUE. + + +A week ago, my friend the Journalist wrote to remind me that once upon +a time I had offered him a bed in my cottage at Troy and promised to +show him the beauties of the place. He was about (he said) to give +himself a fortnight's holiday, and had some notion of using that time +to learn what Cornwall was like. He could spare but one day for Troy, +and hardly looked to exhaust its attractions; nevertheless, if my +promise held good.... By anticipation he spoke of my home as a "nook." +Its windows look down upon a harbour, wherein, day by day, vessels +of every nation and men of large experience are for ever going and +coming; and beyond the harbour, upon leagues of open sea, highway +of the vastest traffic in the world: whereas from his own far more +expensive house my friend sees only a dirty laurel-bush, a high green +fence, and the upper half of a suburban lamp post. Yet he is convinced +that I dwell in a nook. + +I answered his letter, warmly repeating the invitation; and last week +he arrived. The change had bronzed his face, and from his talk I +learnt that he had already seen half the Duchy, in seven days. Yet he +had been unreasonably delayed in at least a dozen places, and used the +strongest language about 'bus and coach communication, local trains, +misleading sign-posts, and the like. Our scenery enraptured him--every +aspect of it. He had travelled up the Tamar to Launceston, crossed +the moors, climbing Roughtor and Brown Willy on his way, plunged down +towards Camelford, which he appeared to have reached by following two +valleys simultaneously, coached to Boscastle, walked to Tintagel, +climbed up to Uther's Castle, diverged inland to St. Nectan's Kieve, +driven on to Bedruthan Steps, Mawgan, the Vale of Lanherne, Newquay, +taken a train thence to Truro, a steamer from Truro to Falmouth, +crossed the ferry to St. Mawes, walked up the coast to Mevagissey, +driven from Mevagissey to St. Austell, and at St. Austell taken +another train for Troy. This brought half his holiday to a close: the +remaining half he meant to devote to the Mining District, St. Ives, +the Land's End, St. Michael's Mount, the Lizard, and perhaps the +Scilly Isles. + +Then I began to feel that I lived in a nook, and to wonder how I could +spin out its attractions to cover a whole day: for I could not hear to +think of his departing with secret regret for his lavished time. In +a flash I saw the truth; that my love for this spot is built up of +numberless trivialities, of small memories all incommunicable, or +ridiculous when communicated; a scrap of local speech heard at this +corner, a pleasant native face remembered in that doorway, a battered +vessel dropping anchor--she went out in the spring with her crew +singing dolefully; and the grey-bearded man waiting in his boat +beneath her counter till the custom-house officers have made their +survey is the father of one among the crew, and is waiting to take +his son's hand again, after months of absence. Would this interest my +friend, if I pointed it out to him? Or, if I walk with him by the path +above the creek, what will he care to know that on this particular +bank the violets always bloom earliest--that one of a line of +yews that top the churchyard wall is remarkable because a pair of +missel-thrushes have chosen it to build in for three successive years? +The violets are gone. The empty nest has almost dissolved under the +late heavy rains, and the yew is so like its fellows that I myself +have no idea why the birds chose it. The longer I reflected the +more certain I felt that my friend could find all he wanted in the +guide-books. + +None the less, I did my best: rowed him for a mile or two up the +river; took him out to sea, and along the coast for half a dozen +miles. The water was choppy, as it is under the slightest breeze from +the south-east; and the Journalist was sea-sick; but seemed to mind +this very little, and recovered sufficiently to ask my boatman two or +three hundred questions before we reached the harbour again. Then +we landed and explored the Church. This took us some time, owing to +several freaks in its construction, for which I blessed the memory +of its early-English builders. We went on to the Town Hall, the old +Stannary Prison (now in ruins), the dilapidated Block-houses, the +Battery. We traversed the town from end to end and studied the +barge-boards and punkin-ends of every old house. I had meanly ordered +that dinner should he ready half-an-hour earlier than usual, and, as +it was, the objects of interest just lasted out. + +As we sat and smoked our cigarettes after dinner, the Journalist +said-- + +"If you don't mind, I'll he off in a few minutes and shut myself up in +your study. I won't he long turning out the copy; and after that I can +talk to you without feeling I've neglected my work. There's an early +post here, I suppose?" + +"Man alive!" said I, "you don't mean to tell me that you're working, +this holiday?" + +"Only a letter for the 'Daily ----' three times a week--a column and a +half, or so." + +"The subject?" + +"Oh, descriptive stuff about the places I've been visiting. I call it +'An Idler in Lyonesse.'" + +"Why Lyonesse?" + +"Why not?" + +"Well, Lyonesse has lain at the bottom of the Atlantic, between Land's +End and Scilly, these eight hundred years. The chroniclers relate that +it was overwhelmed and lost in 1099, A.D. If your Constant Readers +care to ramble there, they're welcome, I'm sure." + +"I had thought" said he, "it was just a poet's name for Cornwall. +Well, never mind, I'll go in presently and write up this place: it's +just as well to do it while one's impressions are still fresh." + +He finished his coffee, lit a fresh cigarette, and strolled off to the +little library where I usually work. I stepped out upon the verandah +and looked down on the harbour at my feet, where already the vessels +were hanging out their lamps in the twilight. I had looked down thus, +and at this hour, a thousand times; and always the scene had something +new to reveal to me, and much more to withhold--small subtleties such +as a man finds in his wife, however ordinary she may appear to other +people. And here, in the next room, was a man who, in half-a-dozen +hours, felt able to describe Troy, to deck her out, at least, in +language that should captivate a million or so of breakfasting +Britons. + +"My country," said I, "if you have given up, in these six hours, a +tithe of your heart to this man--if, in fact, his screed be not +arrant bosh--then will I hie me to London for good and all, and write +political leaders all the days of my life." + +In an hour's time the Journalist came sauntering out to me, and +announced that his letter was written. + +"Have you sealed it up?" + +"Well, no. I thought you might give me an additional hint or two; and +maybe I might look it over again and add a few lines before turning +in." + +"Do you mind my seeing it?" + +"Not the least in the world, if you care to. I didn't think, though, +that it could possibly interest you, who know already every mortal +thing that is to be known about the place." + +"You're mistaken. I may know all about this place when I die, but not +before. Let's hear what you have to say." + +We went indoors, and he read it over to me. + +It was a surprisingly brilliant piece of description; and accurate, +too. He had not called it "a little fishing-town," for instance, as so +many visitors have done in my hearing, though hardly a fishing-boat +puts out from the harbour. The guide-books call it a fishing-town, but +the Journalist was not misled, though he had gone to them for a number +of facts. I corrected a date and then sat silent. It amazed me that a +man who could see so much, should fail to perceive that what he had +seen was of no account in comparison with what he had not: or that, +if he did indeed perceive this, he could write such stuff with such +gusto. "To be capable of so much and content with so little," I +thought; and then broke off to wonder if, after all, he were not +right. To-morrow he would be on his way, crowding his mind with quick +and brilliant impressions, hurrying, living, telling his fellows a +thousand useful and pleasant things, while I pored about to discover +one or two for them. + +"I thought," said the Journalist, swinging his gold pencil-case +between finger and thumb, "you might furnish me with just a hint or +so, to give the thing a local colour. Some little characteristic of +the natives, for instance. I noticed, this afternoon, when I was most +sea-sick, that your fellow took off his hat and pulled something out +of the lining. I was too ill to see what it was; but he dropped it +overboard the next minute and muttered something." + +"Oh, you remarked that, did you?" + +"Yes, and meant to ask him about it afterwards; but forgot, somehow." + +"Do you remember where we were--what we were passing--when he did +this?" + +"Not clearly. I was infernally ill just then. Why did he do it?" + +I was silent. + +"I suppose it had some meaning?" he went on. + +"Yes, it had. And excuse me when I say that I'm hanged if either you +or your Constant Readers shall know what that meaning was. My dear +fellow, you belong to a strong race--a race that has beaten us and +taken toll of us, and now carves 'Smith' and 'Thompson' and such names +upon our fathers' tombs. But there are some things you have not laid +hands on yet; secrets that we all know somehow, but never utter, even +among ourselves, nor allude to. If I told you what Billy Tredegar did +to-day, and why he did it, I tell you frankly your article would +make some thousands of Constant Readers open wide eyes over their +breakfast-cups. But you won't know. Why, after all, should I say +anything to spoil Cornwall's prospects as a health-resort?" + +My friend took this very quietly, merely observing that it was rather +late in the day to take sides against Hengist and Horsa. But he was +sorry, I could see, to lose his local colour. And as I looked down, +for the last time that night, upon Troy, this petition escaped me-- + +"O my country, if I keep your secrets, keep for me your heart!" + + + + +THE SPINSTER'S MAYING. + + "_The fields breathe sweet, the daisies kiss our feet, + Young lovers meet, old wives a-sunning sit; + In every street these tunes our ears do greet-- + Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-wee, to-witta-woo! + Spring, the sweet Spring_." + + +At two o'clock on May morning a fishing-boat, with a small row-boat in +tow, stole up the harbour between the lights of the vessels that lay +at anchor. She came on a soundless tide, with her sprit-mainsail +wide and drawing, and her foresail flapping idle; and although her +cuddy-top and gunwale glistened wet with a recent shower, the man who +steered her looked over his shoulder at the waning moon, and decided +that the dawn would be a fine one. A furlong below the Town Quay he +left the tiller and lowered sail: two furlongs above, he dropped +anchor: then, having made all ship-shape, he lit a pipe and pulled an +enormous watch from his fob. The vessels he had passed since entering +the harbour's mouth seemed one and all asleep. But a din of horns, +kettles, and tea-trays, and a wild tattoo of door-knockers, sounded +along the streets behind the stores and houses that lined the +water-side. Already the town-boys were ushering in the month of May. + +The man waited until the half-hour chimed over the 'long-shore roofs +from the church-tower up the hill; set his watch with care; and sat +down to wait for the sun. Upon the wooded cliff that faces the town +the birds were waking; and by-and-bye, from the three small quays came +the sound of voices laughing, and then a boat or two stealing out of +the shadow, each crowded with boys and maids. Before the dawn grew red +above the cliff where the birds sang, a dozen boats had gone by him on +their way up the river, the chatter and broken laughter returning down +its dim reaches long after the rowers had passed out of sight. + +For some moments longer he watched the broadening daylight, till the +sun, mounting above the cliff, blazed on the watch he had again pulled +out and now shut with a brisk snap. His round, shaven face, still +boyish in middle age, wore the shadow of a solemn responsibility. He +clambered out into the small boat astern, and, casting loose, pulled +towards a bright patch of colour in the grey shore wall: a blue +quay-door overhung with ivy. The upper windows of the cottage behind +it were draped with snowy muslin, and its walls, coated with recent +whitewash, shamed its neighbours to right and left. + +As the boat dropped under this blue quay-door, its upper flap opened +softly, and a voice as softly said-- + +"Thank you kindly, John. And how d'ye do this May morning?" + +"Charming," the man answered frankly. "Handsome weather 'tis, to be +sure." + +He looked up and smiled at her, like a lover. + +"I needn't to ask how _you_ be; for you'm looking sweet as blossom," +he went on. + +And yet the woman that smiled down on him was fifty years old at +least. Her hair, which usually lay in two flat bands, closely drawn +over the temples, had for this occasion been worked into waves +by curling-papers, and twisted in front of either ear, into that +particular ringlet locally called a kiss-me-quick. But it was streaked +with grey, and the pinched features wore the tint of pale ivory. + +"D'ye think you can clamber down the ladder, Sarah? The tide's fairly +high." + +"I'm afraid I'll be showing my ankles." + +"I was hoping so. Wunnerful ankles you've a-got, Sarah, and a +wunnerful cage o' teeth. Such extremities 'd well beseem a king's +daughter, all glorious within!" + +Sarah Blewitt pulled open the lower flap of the door and set her foot +on the ladder. She wore a white print gown beneath her cloak, and a +small bonnet of black straw decorated with sham cowslips. The cloak, +hitching for a moment on the ladder's side, revealed a beaded reticule +that hung from her waist, and clinked as she descended. + +"I reckon there's scarce an inch of paint left on my front door," she +observed, as the man steadied her with an arm round her waist, and +settled her comfortably in the stern-sheets. + +He unshipped his oars and began to pull. + +"Ay. I heard 'em whackin' the door with a deal o' tow-row. They was +going it like billy-O when I came past the Town Quay. But one mustn' +complain, May-mornin's." + +"I wasn' complaining," said the woman; "I was just remarking. How's +Maria?" + +"She's nicely, thank you." + +"And the children?" + +"Brave." + +"I've put up sixpennyworth of nicey in four packets--that's one +apiece--and I've written the name on each, for you to take home to +'em." + +She fumbled in her reticule and produced the packets. The +peppermint-drops and brandy-balls were wrapped in clean white paper, +and the names written in a thin Italian hand. John thanked her and +stowed them in his trousers pockets. + +"You'll give my love to Maria? I take it very kindly her letting you +come for me like this." + +"Oh, as for that--" began John, and broke off; "I don't call to mind +that ever I saw a more handsome morning for the time o' year." + +They had made this expedition together more than a score of times, and +always found the same difficulty in conversing. The boat moved easily +past the town, the jetties above it, and the vessels that lay off them +awaiting their cargoes; it turned the corner and glided by woods where +the larches were green, the sycamores dusted with bronze, the wild +cherry-trees white with blossom, and all voluble. Every little bird +seemed ready to burst his throat that morning with the deal he had to +say. But these two--the man especially--had nothing to say, yet ached +for words. + +"Nance Treweek's married," the woman managed to tell him at last. + +"I was thinking it likely, by the way she carried on last Maying." + +"That wasn' the man. She've kept company with two since him, and +mated with a fourth man altogether--quite a different sort, in the +commercial traveller line." + +"Did he wear a seal weskit?" + +"Well, he might have; but not to my knowledge. What makes you ask?" + +"Because I used to know a Johnny Fortnight that wore one in these +parts; and I thought it might be he, belike." + +"Jim had a greater gift o' speech than you can make pretence to," said +the woman abruptly. "I often wonder that of two twin-brothers one +should be so glib and t'other so mum-chance." + +"'Tis the Lord's ways," the man answered, resting on his oars. "Will +you be dabblin' your feet as usual, Sarah?" + +"Why not?" + +He turned the boat's nose to a small landing-place cut in the solid +rock, where a straight pathway dived between hazel-bushes and appeared +again twenty feet above, winding inland around the knap of a green +hill. Here he helped her to disembark, and waited with his back to +the shore. The spinster behind the hazel screen pulled off shoes and +stockings, and paddled about for a minute in the dewy grass that +fringed the meadow's lower slope. Then, drawing a saucer from her +reticule, she wrung some dew into it and bathed her face. Ten minutes +later she re-appeared on the river's bank. + +"A happy May, John!" + +"A happy May to _you_, Sarah!" + +John stepped out beside her, and making his boat fast, followed her +up the narrow path and around the shoulder of the steep meadow. They +overed a stile, then a second, and were among pink slopes of orchards +in bloom. Ahead of them a church tower rose out of soft billows of +apple-blossom, and above the tower a lark was singing. A child +came along the footpath from the village with two garlands mounted +cross-wise on a pole and looped together with strings of painted +birds' eggs. John gave him a penny for his show. + +"Here's luck to your lass!" said the wise child. + +Sarah was pleased, and added a second penny from her reticule. The boy +spat on it for luck, slipped it into his breeches pocket, and went on +his way skipping. + +They stood still and looked after him for some moments, out of pure +pleasure in his good humour; then descended among the orchards to the +village. Half-way up the street stood the inn, the Flowing Source, +with whitewashed front and fuchsia-trees that reached to the +first-floor windows; and before it a well enclosed with a round stone +wall, over which the toadflax spread in a tangle. Around the well, +in the sunshine, were set a dozen or more small tables, covered with +white cloths, and two score at least of young people eating bread and +cream and laughing. The landlady, a broad woman in a blue print gown, +and large apron, came forward. + +"Why, Miss Sarah, I'd nigh 'pon given you up. Your table's been spread +this hour, an' at last I was forced to ask some o' the young folks if +you was dead or no." + +"Why should I be dead more than another?" + +"Well, well--in the midst o' life, we're told. 'Tisn' only the ripe +apples that the wind scatters. He that comes by your side to-day is +but twin-brother to him that came wi' you the first time I mind 'ee, +seemin' but yesterday. Eh, Miss Sarah, but I envied 'ee then, sittin' +wi' hand in hand, an' but one bite taken out o' your bread an' cream; +but I was just husband-high myself i' those days, an' couldn't make +the men believe it." + +"Mary Ann Jacobs," Miss Sarah broke out, "if 'twas not for the quality +of your cream, I'd go a-mayin' elsewhere, for I can truly say I hate +your way of talkin' from the bottom of my soul." + +"Sarah," said John, wiping his mouth as he finished his bread and +cream, "I'm a glum man, as you well know; an' why Providence drowned +poor Jim, when it might have taken his twin image that hadn' half his +mouth--speech, is past findin' out. But 'tis generally allowed that +the grip o' my hand is uncommon like what Jim's used to be; an' when I +gets home to-night, the first thing my old woman'll be sure to ask is +'Did 'ee give Sarah poor Jim's hand-clasp?'--an' what to say I shan't +know, unless you honours me so far." + +"'Tis uncommon good of Maria," said the woman simply, and stole her +thin hand into his horny palm. She had done so, in answer to the same +speech, more than twenty times. + +"Not at all," said John. + +His fingers closed over hers, and rested so. All but a few of the +mayers had risen from the table, and were romping and chasing each +other back to the boats, for the majority were shop-girls and +apprentices, and must be back in time for business. But Miss Sarah was +in no hurry. + +"Not yet," she entreated, as John's grasp began to relax. He tightened +it again and waited, while she leant back, breathing short, with +half-closed eyes. + +At length she said he might release her. + +"I'm sure 'tis uncommon kind of Maria," she repeated. + +"I don't see where the kindness comes in. Maria can have as good any +day o' the year, an' don't appear to value it to that extent." + +They walked back through the orchards in silence. At Miss Sarah's +quay-door they parted, and John hoisted sail for his home around the +corner of the coast. + + + + +DAPHNIS. + + _Has olim exuvias mihi perfidus ille reliquit, + Pignora cara sui: quae nunc ego limine in ipso, + Terra, tibi mando; debent haec pignora Daphnin-- + Ducite ab urbe domum, mea, carmina, ducite Daphnin_. + + +I knew the superstition lingered along the country-side: and I was +sworn to find it. But the labourers and their wives smoothed all +intelligence out of their faces as soon as I began to hint at it. Such +is the way of them. They were my good friends, but had no mind to help +me in this. Nobody who has not lived long with them can divine the +number of small incommunicable mysteries and racial secrets chambered +in their inner hearts and guarded by their hospitable faces. These +alone the Celt withholds from the Saxon, and when he dies they are +buried with him. + +A chance word or two of my old nurse, by chance caught in some cranny +of a child's memory and recovered after many days, told me that the +charm was still practised by the woman-folk, or had been practised not +long before her death. So I began to hunt for it, and, almost as soon, +to believe the search hopeless. The new generation of girls, with +their smart frocks, in fashion not more than six months behind London, +their Board School notions, and their consuming ambition to "look +like a lady"--were these likely to cherish a local custom as rude and +primitive as the long-stone circles on the tors above? But they were +Cornish; and of that race it is unwise to judge rashly. For years I +had never a clue: and then, by Sheba Farm, in a forsaken angle of the +coast, surprised the secret. + +Sheba Farm stands high above Ruan sands, over which its windows flame +at sunset. And I sat in the farm kitchen drinking cider and eating +potato-cake, while the farmer's wife, Mrs. Bolverson, obligingly +attended to my coat, which had just been soaked by a thunder-shower. +It was August, and already the sun beat out again, fierce and strong. +The bright drops that gemmed the tamarisk-bushes above the wall of the +town-place were already fading under its heat; and I heard the voices +of the harvesters up the lane, as they returned to the oat-field +whence the storm had routed them. A bright parallelogram stretched +from the window across the white kitchen-table, and reached the dim +hollow of the open fire-place. Mrs. Bolverson drew the towel-horse, on +which my coat was stretched, between it and the wood fire, which (as +she held) the sunshine would put out. + +"It's uncommonly kind of you, Mrs. Bolverson," said I, as she turned +one sleeve of the coat towards the heat. "To be sure, if the women in +these parts would speak out, some of them have done more than that for +the men with an old coat." + +She dropped the sleeve, faced round, and eyed me. + +"What do you know of that?" she asked slowly, and as if her chest +tightened over the words. She was a woman of fifty and more, of fine +figure but a worn face. Her chief surviving beauty was a pile of light +golden hair, still lustrous as a girl's. But her blue eyes--though now +they narrowed on me suspiciously--must have looked out magnificently +in their day. + +"I fancy," said I, meeting them frankly enough, "that what you know +and I don't on that matter would make a good deal." + +She laughed harshly, almost savagely. + +"You'd better ask Sarah Gedye, across the coombe. She buried a man's +clothes one time, and--it might be worth your while to ask her what +came o't." + +If you can imagine a glint of moonlight running up the blade of +a rapier, you may know the chill flame of spite and despite that +flickered in her eyes then as she spoke. + +"I take my oath," I muttered to myself, "I'll act on the invitation." + +The woman stood straight upright, with her hands clasped behind her, +before the deal table. She gazed, under lowered brows, straight out of +window; and following that gaze, I saw across the coombe a mean +mud hut, with a wall around it, that looked on Sheba Farm with the +obtrusive humility of a poor relation. + +"Does she--does Sarah Gedye--live down yonder?" + +"What is that to you?" she enquired fiercely, and then was silent for +a moment, and added, with another short laugh-- + +"I reckon I'd like the question put to her: but I doubt you've got the +pluck." + +"You shall see," said I; and taking my coat off the towel-horse, I +slipped it on. + +She did not turn, did not even move her head, when I thanked her for +the shelter and walked out of the house. + +I could feel those steel-blue eyes working like gimlets into my back +as I strode down the hill and passed the wooden plank that lay across +the stream at its foot. A climb of less than a minute brought me to +the green gate in the wall of Sarah Gedye's garden patch; and here I +took a look backwards and upwards at Sheba. The sun lay warm on its +white walls, and the whole building shone against the burnt hillside. +It was too far away for me to spy Mrs. Bolverson's blue print gown +within the kitchen window, but I knew that she stood there yet. + +The sound of a footstep made me turn. A woman was coming round the +corner of the cottage, with a bundle of mint in her hand. + +She looked at me, shook off a bee that had blundered against her +apron, and looked at me again--a brown woman, lean and strongly made, +with jet-black eyes set deep and glistening in an ugly face. + +"You want to know your way?" she asked. + +"No. I came to see you, if your name is Sarah Gedye." + +"Sarah Ann Gedye is my name. What 'st want?" + +I took a sudden resolution to tell the exact truth. + +"Mrs. Gedye, the fact is I am curious about an old charm that was +practised in these parts, as I know, till recently. The charm is +this--When a woman guesses her lover to be faithless to her, she +buries a suit of his old clothes to fetch him back to her. Mrs. +Bolverson, up at Sheba yonder--" + +The old woman had opened her mouth (as I know now) to curse me. But +as Mrs. Bolverson's name escaped me, she turned her back, and walked +straight to her door and into the kitchen. Her manner told me that I +was expected to follow. + +But I was not prepared for the face she turned on me in the shadow of +the kitchen. It was grey as wood-ash, and the black eyes shrank into +it like hot specks of fire. + +"She--_she_ set you on to ask me that?" She caught me by the coat and +hissed out: "Come back from the door--don't let her see." Then she +lifted up her fist, with the mint tightly clutched in it, and shook it +at the warm patch of Sheba buildings across the valley. + +"May God burn her bones, as He has smitten her body barren!" + +"What do you know of this?" she cried, turning upon me again. + +"I know nothing. That I have offered you some insult is clear: but--" + +"Nay, you don't know--you don't know. No man would be such a hound. +You don't know; but, by the Lord, you shall hear, here where you'm +standin', an' shall jedge betwix' me an' that pale 'ooman up yonder. +Stand there an' list to me. + +"He was my lover more'n five-an'-thirty years agone. Who? That +'ooman's wedded man, Seth Bolverson. We warn't married"--this with +a short laugh. "Wife or less than wife, he found me to his mind. +She--she that egged you on to come an' flout me--was a pale-haired +girl o' seventeen or so i' those times--a church-goin' mincin' strip +of a girl--the sort you men-folk bow the knee to for saints. Her +father owned Sheba Farm, an' she look'd across on my man, an' had envy +on 'en, an' set her eyes to draw 'en. Oh, a saint she was! An' he, the +poor shammick, went. 'Twas a good girl, you understand, that wished +for to marry an' reform 'en. She had money, too. _I_? I'd ha' poured +out my blood for 'en: that's all I cud do. So he went. + +"As the place shines this day, it shone then. Like a moth it drew 'en. +Late o' summer evenin's its windeys shone when down below here 'twas +chill i' the hill's shadow. An' late at night the candles burned up +there as he courted her. Purity and cosiness, you understand, an' down +here--he forgot about down here. Before he'd missed to speak to me for +a month, I'd hear 'en whistlin' up the hill, so merry as a grig. Well, +he married her. + +"They was married three months, an' 'twas harvest time come round, an' +I in his vield a-gleanin'. For I was suffered near to that extent, +seem' that the cottage here had been my fathers', an' was mine, an' +out o't they culdn' turn me. One o' the hands, as they was pitchin', +passes me an empty keg, an' says, 'Run you to the farm-place an' get +it filled.' So with it I went to th' kitchen, and while I waited +outside I sees his coat an' wesket 'pon a peg i' the passage. Well I +knew the coat; an' a madness takin' me for all my loss, I unhitched it +an' flung it behind the door, an', the keg bein' filled, picked it up +agen and ran down home-along. + +"No thought had I but to win Seth back. 'Twas the charm you spoke +about: an' that same midnight I delved a hole by the dreshold an' +buried the coat, whisperin', '_Man, come back, come back to me_!' as +Aun' Lesnewth had a-taught me, times afore. + +"But she, the pale woman, had a-seen me, dro' a chink o' the +parlour-door, as I tuk the coat down. An' she knowed what I tuk it +for. I've a-read it, times and again, in her wifely eyes; an' to-day +you yoursel' are witness that she knowed. If Seth knowed--" + +She clenched and unclenched her fist, and went on rapidly. + +"Early next mornin', and a'most afore I was dressed, two constables +came in by the gate, an' she behind 'em treadin' delicately, an' _he_ +at her back, wi' his chin dropped. They charged me wi' stealin' that +coat--wi' stealin' it--that coat that I'd a-darned an' patched years +afore ever _she_ cuddled against its sleeve!" + +"What happened?" I asked, as her voice sank and halted. + +"What happened? She looked me i' the eyes scornfully; an' her own were +full o' knowledge. An' wi' her eyes she coaxed and dared me to abase +mysel' an' speak the truth an' win off jail. An' I, that had stole +nowt, looked back at her an' said, 'It's true. I stole the coat. Now +cart me off to jail; but handle me gently for the sake o' my child +unborn.' When I spoke these last two words an' saw her face draw up +wi' the bitterness o' their taste, I held out my wrists and clapped +the handcuffs together like cymbals and laughed wi' a glad heart." + +She caught my hand suddenly, and drawing me to the porch, pointed high +above Sheba, to the yellow upland where the harvesters moved. + +"Do 'ee see 'en there?--that tall young man by the hedge--there where +the slope dips? That's my son, Seth's son, the straightest man among +all. Neither spot has he, nor wart, nor blemish 'pon his body; and +when she pays 'en his wages, Saturday evenin's, he says 'Thank 'ee, +ma'am,' wi' a voice that's the very daps o' his father's. An' she's +childless. Ah, childless woman! Childless woman! Go back an' carry +word to her o' the prayer I've spoken upon her childlessness." + +And "Childless woman!" "Childless woman!" she called twice again, +shaking her fist at the windows of Sheba Farm-house, that blazed back +angrily against the westering sun. + + + + +WHEN THE SAP ROSE. + +A FANTASIA. + + +An old yellow van--the _Comet_--came jolting along the edge of the +downs and shaking its occupants together like peas in a bladder. The +bride and bridegroom did not mind this much; but the Registrar of +Births, Deaths, and Marriages, who had bound them in wedlock at the +Bible Christian Chapel two hours before, was discomforted by a pair +of tight boots, that nipped cruelly whenever he stuck out his feet to +keep his equilibrium. + +Nevertheless, his mood was genial, for the young people had taken his +suggestion and acquired a copy of their certificate. This meant five +extra shillings in his pocket. Therefore, when the van drew up at +the cross-roads for him to alight, he wished them long life and a +multitude of children with quite a fatherly air. + +"You can't guess where I'm bound for. It's to pay my old mother a +visit. Ah, family life's the pretty life--that ever _I_ should say +it!" + +They saw no reason why he should be cynical, more than other men. And +the bride, in whose eyes this elderly gentleman with the tight boots +appeared a rosy winged Cupid, waved her handkerchief until the vehicle +had sidled round the hill, resembling in its progress a very infirm +crab in a hurry. + +As a fact, the Registrar wore a silk hat, a suit of black +West-of-England broadcloth, a watch-chain made out of his dead wife's +hair, and two large seals that clashed together when he moved. +His face was wide and round, with a sanguine complexion, grey +side-whiskers, and a cicatrix across the chin. He had shaved in a +hurry that morning, for the wedding was early, and took place on the +extreme verge of his district. His is a beautiful office--recording +day by day the solemnest and most mysterious events in nature. Yet, +standing at the cross-roads, between down and woodland, under an April +sky full of sun and south-west wind, he threw the ugliest shadow in +the landscape. + +The road towards the coast dipped--too steeply for tight boots--down a +wooded coombe, and he followed it, treading delicately. The hollow of +the V ahead, where the hills overlapped against the pale blue, was +powdered with a faint brown bloom, soon to be green--an infinity +of bursting buds. The larches stretched their arms upwards, as men +waking. The yellow was out on the gorse, with a heady scent like a +pineapple's, and between the bushes spread the grey film of coming +blue-bells. High up, the pines sighed along the ridge, turning paler; +and far down, where the brook ran, a mad duet was going on between +thrush and chaffinch--"_Cheer up, cheer up, Queen!" "Clip clip, clip, +and kiss me--Sweet_!"--one against the other. + +Now, the behaviour of the Registrar of Births, Deaths, and Marriages +changed as he descended the valley. At first he went from side to +side, because the loose stones were sharp and lay unevenly; soon he +zig-zagged for another purpose--to peer into the bank for violets, to +find a gap between the trees where, by bending down with a hand +on each knee and his head tilted back, he could see the primroses +stretching in broad sheets to the very edge of the pine-woods. By +frequent tilting his collar broke from its stud and his silk hat +settled far back on his neck. Next he unbuttoned his waistcoat and +loosened his braces; but no, he could not skip--his boots were too +tight. He looked at each tree as he passed. "If I could only see"--he +muttered. "I'll swear there used to be one on the right, just here." + +But he could not find it here--perhaps his memory misgave him--and +presently turned with decision, climbed the low fence on his left, +between him and the hollow of the coombe, and dropped into the +plantation on the other side. Here the ground was white in patches +with anemones; and as his feet crushed them, descending, the babel of +the birds grew louder and louder. + +He issued on a small clearing by the edge of the brook, where the +grass was a delicate green, each blade pushing up straight as a +spear-point from the crumbled earth. Here were more anemones, between +patches of last year's bracken, and on the further slope a mass of +daffodils. He pulled out a pocket-knife that had sharpened some +hundreds of quill pens, and looking to his right, found what he wanted +at once. + +It was a sycamore, on which the buds were swelling. He cut a small +twig, as big round as his middle finger, and sitting himself down on a +barked log, close by, began to measure and cut it to a span's length, +avoiding all knots. Then, taking the knife by the blade between finger +and thumb, he tapped the bark gently with the tortoise-shell handle. +And as he tapped, his face went back to boyhood again, in spite of the +side-whiskers, and his mouth was pursed up to a silent tune. + +For ten minutes the tapping continued; the birds ceased their +contention, and broke out restlessly at intervals. A rabbit across +the brook paused and listened at the funnel-shaped mouth of his hole, +which caught the sound and redoubled it. + +"Confound these boots!" said the Registrar, and pulling them off, +tossed them among the primroses. They were "elastic-sides." + +The tapping ceased. A breath of the land-ward breeze came up, combing +out the tangle that winter had made in the grass, caught the brook on +the edge of a tiny fall, and puffed it back six inches in a spray of +small diamonds. It quickened the whole copse. The oak-saplings rubbed +their old leaves one on another, as folks rub their hands, feeling +life and warmth; the chestnut-buds groped like an infant's fingers; +and the chorus broke out again, the thrush leading--"_Tiurru, tiurru, +chippewee; tio-tee, tio-tee; queen, queen, que-een_!" + +In a moment or two he broke off suddenly, and a honey-bee shot out +of an anemone-bell like a shell from a mortar. For a new sound +disconcerted them--a sound sharp and piercing. The Registrar had +finished his whistle and was blowing like mad, moving his fingers +up and down. Having proved his instrument, he dived a hand into his +tail-pocket and drew out a roll, tied around with ribbon. It was the +folded leather-bound volume in which he kept his blank certificates. +And spreading it on his knees, he took his whistle again and blew, +reading his music from the blank pages, and piping a strain he had +never dreamed of. For he whistled of Births and Marriages. + +O, happy Registrar! O, happy, happy Registrar! You will never get into +those elastic-sides again. Your feet swell as they tap the swelling +earth, and at each tap the flowers push, the sap climbs, the speck of +life moves in the hedge-sparrow's egg; while, far away on the downs, +with each tap, the yellow van takes bride and groom a foot nearer +felicity. It is hard work in worsted socks, for you smite with the +vehemence of Pan, and Pan had a hoof of horn. + + * * * * * + +The Registrar's mother lived in the fishing-village, two miles down +the coombe. Her cottage leant back against the cliff so closely, that +the boys, as they followed the path above, could toss tabs of turf +down her chimney: and this was her chief annoyance. + +Now, it was close on the dinner-hour, and she stood in her kitchen +beside a pot of stew that simmered over the wreck-wood fire. + +Suddenly a great lump of earth and grass came bouncing down the +chimney, striking from side to side, and soused into the pot, +scattering the hot stew over the hearth-stone and splashing her from +head to foot. + +Quick as thought, she caught up a besom and rushed out around the +corner of the cottage. + +"You stinking young adders!" she began. + +A big man stood on the slope above her. + +"Mother, cuff my head, that's a dear. I couldn' help doin' it." + +It was the elderly Registrar. His hat, collar, tie, and waistcoat were +awry; his boots were slung on the walking-stick over his shoulder; +stuck in his mouth and lit was a twist of root-fibre, such as country +boys use for lack of cigars, and he himself had used, forty years +before. + +The old woman turned to an ash-colour, leant on her besom, and gasped. + +"William Henry!" + +"I'm not drunk, mother: been a Band of Hope these dozen years." He +stepped down the slope to her and bent his head low. "Box my ears, +mother, quick! You used to have a wonderful gift o' cuffin'." + +"William Henry, I'm bound to do it or die." + +"Then be quick about it." + +Half-laughing, half-sobbing, she caught him a feeble cuff, and next +instant held him close to her old breast. The Registrar disengaged +himself after a minute, brushed his eyes, straightened his hat, picked +up the besom, and offered her his arm. They passed into the cottage +together. + + + + +THE PAUPERS + + +I. + +[Greek: ou men gar tou ge kreisson kai areion, ae hoth homophroneonte +noaemasin oikon echaeton anaer aede gunae.] + + +Round the skirts of the plantation, and half-way down the hill, there +runs a thick fringe of wild cherry-trees. Their white blossom makes, +for three weeks in the year, a pretty contrast with the larches and +Scotch firs that serrate the long ridge above; and close under their +branches runs the line of oak rails that marks off the plantation from +the meadow. + +A labouring man came deliberately round the slope, as if following +this line of rails. As a matter of fact, he was treading the +little-used footpath that here runs close alongside the fence for +fifty yards before diverging down-hill towards the village. So narrow +is this path that the man's boots were powdered to a rich gold by the +buttercups they had brushed aside. + +By-and-bye he came to a standstill, looked over the fence, and +listened. Up among the larches a faint chopping sound could just be +heard, irregular but persistent. The man put a hand to his mouth, and +hailed-- + +"Hi-i-i! Knock off! Stable clock's gone noo-oon!" + +Came back no answer. But the chopping ceased at once; and this +apparently satisfied the man, who leaned against the rail and waited, +chewing a spear of brome-grass, and staring steadily, but incuriously, +at his boots. Two minutes passed without stir or sound in this corner +of the land. The human figure was motionless. The birds in the +plantation were taking their noonday siesta. A brown butterfly rested, +with spread wings, on the rail--so quietly, he might have been pinned +there. + +A cracked voice was suddenly lifted a dozen yards off, and within the +plantation-- + +"Such a man as I be to work! Never heard a note o' that blessed clock, +if you'll believe me. Ab-sorbed, I s'pose." + +A thin withered man in a smock-frock emerged from among the +cherry-trees with a bill-hook in his hand, and stooped to pass under +the rail. + +"Ewgh! The pains I suffer in that old back of mine you'll never +believe, my son, not till the appointed time when you come to suffer +'em yoursel'. Well-a-well! Says I just now, up among the larches, +'Heigh, my sonny-boys, I can crow over you, anyways; for I was a man +grown when Squire planted ye; and here I be, a lusty gaffer, markin' +ye down for destruction.' But hullo! where's the dinner?" + +"There bain't none." + +"Hey?" + +"There bain't none." + +"How's that? Damme! William Henry, dinner's dinner, an' don't you joke +about it. Once you begin to make fun o' sacred things like meals and +vittles--" + +"And don't you flare up like that, at your time o' life. We're +fashionists to-day: dining out. 'Quarter after nine this morning I was +passing by the Green wi' the straw-cart, when old Jan Trueman calls +after me, 'Have 'ee heard the news?'' What news?' says I. 'Why,' says +he, 'me an' my missus be going into the House this afternoon--can't +manage to pull along by ourselves any more,' he says; 'an' we wants +you an' your father to drop in soon after noon an' take a bite wi' us, +for old times' sake. 'Tis our last taste o' free life, and we'm going +to do the thing fittywise,' he says." + +The old man bent a meditative look on the village roofs below. + +"We'll pleasure 'en, of course," he said slowly. "So 'tis come round +to Jan's turn? But a' was born in the year of Waterloo victory, ten +year' afore me, so I s'pose he've kept his doom off longer than most." + +The two set off down the footpath. There is a stile at the foot of the +meadow, and as he climbed it painfully, the old man spoke again. + +"And his doorway, I reckon, 'll be locked for a little while, an' then +opened by strangers; an' his nimble youth be forgot like a flower o' +the field; an' fare thee well, Jan Trueman! Maria, too--I can mind her +well as a nursing mother--a comely woman in her day. I'd no notion +they'd got this in their mind." + +"Far as I can gather, they've been minded that way ever since their +daughter Jane died, last fall." + +From the stile where they stood they could look down into the village +street. And old Jan Trueman was plain to see, in clean linen and his +Sunday suit, standing in the doorway and welcoming his guests. + +"Come ye in--come ye in, good friends," he called, as they approached. +"There's cold bekkon, an' cold sheep's liver, an' Dutch cheese, +besides bread, an' a thimble-full o' gin-an'-water for every soul +among ye, to make it a day of note in the parish." + +He looked back over his shoulder into the kitchen. A dozen men and +women, all elderly, were already gathered there. They had brought +their own chairs. Jan's wife wore her bonnet and shawl, ready to start +at a moment's notice. Her luggage in a blue handkerchief lay on the +table. As she moved about and supplied her guests, her old lips +twitched nervously; but when she spoke it was with no unusual tremor +of the voice. + +"I wish, friends, I could ha' cooked ye a little something hot; but +there'd be no time for the washing-up, an' I've ordained to leave the +place tidy." + +One of the old women answered-- + +"There's nought to be pardoned, I'm sure. Never do I mind such a gay +set-off for the journey. For the gin-an'-water is a little addition +beyond experience. The vittles, no doubt, you begged up at the +Vicarage, sayin' you'd been a peck o' trouble to the family, but this +was going to be the last time." + +"I did, I did," assented Mr. Trueman. + +"But the gin-an'-water--how on airth you contrived it is a riddle!" + +The old man rubbed his hands together and looked around with genuine +pride. + +"There was old Miss Scantlebury," said another guest, a smock-frocked +gaffer of seventy, with a grizzled shock of hair. "You remember Miss +Scantlebury?" + +"O' course, o' course." + +"Well, she did it better 'n anybody I've heard tell of. When she fell +into redooced circumstances she sold the eight-day clock that was the +only thing o' value she had left. Brown o' Tregarrick made it, with +a very curious brass dial, whereon he carved a full-rigged ship that +rocked like a cradle, an' went down stern foremost when the hour +struck. 'Twas worth walking a mile to see. Brown's grandson bought +it off Miss Scantlebury for two guineas, he being proud of his +grandfather's skill; an' the old lady drove into Tregarrick Work'us +behind a pair o' greys wi' the proceeds. Over and above the carriage +hire, she'd enough left to adorn the horse wi' white favours an' give +the rider a crown, large as my lord. Aye, an' at the Work'us door she +said to the fellow, said she, 'All my life I've longed to ride in a +bridal chariot; an' though my only lover died of a decline when I was +scarce twenty-two, I've done it at last,' said she; 'an' now heaven +an' airth can't undo it!'" + +A heavy silence followed this anecdote, and then one or two of the +women vented small disapproving coughs. The reason was the speaker's +loud mention of the Workhouse. A week, a day, a few-hours before, its +name might have been spoken in Mr. and Mrs. Trueman's presence. But +now they had entered its shadow; they were "going"--whether to the dim +vale of Avilion, or with chariot and horses of fire to heaven, let +nobody too curiously ask. If Mr. and Mrs. Trueman chose to speak +definitely, it was another matter. + +Old Jan bore no malice, however, but answered, "That beats me, I own. +Yet we shall drive, though it be upon two wheels an' behind a single +horse. For Farmer Lear's driving into Tregarrick in an hour's time, +an' he've a-promised us a lift." + +"But about that gin-an'-water? For real gin-an'-water it is, to sight +an' taste." + +"Well, friends, I'll tell ye: for the trick may serve one of ye in the +days when you come to follow me, tho' the new relieving officer may +have learnt wisdom before then. You must know we've been considering +of this step for some while, but hearing that old Jacobs was going to +retire soon, I says to Maria, 'We'll bide till the new officer comes, +and if he's a green hand, we'll diddle 'en.' Day before yesterday,' as +you, was his first round at the work; so I goes up an' draws out my +ha'af-crown same as usual, an' walks straight off for the Four Lords +for a ha'af-crown's worth o' gin. Then back I goes, an' demands +an admission order for me an' the missus. 'Why, where's your +ha'af-crown?' says he. 'Gone in drink,' says I. 'Old man,' says he, +'you'm a scandal, an' the sooner you're put out o' the way o' drink, +the better for you an' your poor wife.' 'Right you are,' I says; an' I +got my order. But there, I'm wasting time; for to be sure you've most +of ye got kith and kin in the place where we'm going, and 'll be +wanting to send 'em a word by us." + + * * * * * + +It was less than an hour before Farmer Lear pulled up to the door in +his red-wheeled spring-cart. + +"Now, friends," said Mrs. Trueman, as her ears caught the rattle of +the wheels, "I must trouble ye to step outside while I tidy up the +floor." + +The women offered their help, but she declined it. Alone she put the +small kitchen to rights, while they waited outside around the door. +Then she stepped out with her bundle, locked the door after her, and +slipped the key under an old flower-pot on the window ledge. Her eyes +were dry. + +"Come along, Jan." + +There was a brief hand-shaking, and the paupers climbed up beside +Farmer Lear. + +"I've made a sort o' little plan in my head," said old Jan at parting, +"of the order in which I shall see ye again, one by one. 'Twill be a +great amusement to me, friends, to see how the fact fits in wi' my +little plan." + +The guests raised three feeble cheers as the cart drove away, and hung +about for several minutes after it had passed out of sight, gazing +along the road as wistfully as more prosperous men look in through +churchyard gates at the acres where their kinsfolk lie buried. + + +II. + + +The first building passed by the westerly road as it descends into +Tregarrick is a sombre pile of some eminence, having a gateway and +lodge before it, and a high encircling wall. The sun lay warm on its +long roof, and the slates flashed gaily there, as Farmer Lear came +over the knap of the hill and looked down on it. He withdrew his eyes +nervously to glance at the old couple beside him. At the same moment +he reined up his dun-coloured mare. + +"I reckoned," he said timidly, "I reckoned you'd be for stopping +hereabouts an' getting down. You'd think it more seemly--that's what I +reckoned: an' 'tis down-hill now all the way." + +For ten seconds and more neither the man nor the woman gave a sign of +having heard him. The spring-cart's oscillatory motion seemed to have +entered into their spinal joints; and now that they had come to +a halt, their heads continued to wag forward and back as they +contemplated the haze of smoke spread, like a blue scarf over the +town, and the one long slate roof that rose from it as if to meet +them. At length the old woman spoke, and with some viciousness, though +her face remained as blank as the Workhouse door. + +"The next time I go back up this hill, if ever I do, I'll be carried +up feet first." + +"Maria," said her husband, feebly reproachful, "you tempt the Lord, +that you do." + +"Thank 'ee, Farmer Lear," she went on, paying no heed; "you shall +help us down, if you've a mind to, an' drive on. We'll make shift to +trickly 'way down so far as the gate; for I'd be main vexed if anybody +that had known me in life should see us creep in. Come along, Jan." + +Farmer Lear alighted, and helped them out carefully. He was a clumsy +man, but did his best to handle them gently. When they were set on +their feet, side by side on the high road, he climbed back, and fell +to arranging the reins, while he cast about for something to say. + +"Well, folks, I s'pose I must be wishing 'ee good-bye." He meant +to speak cheerfully, but over-acted, and was hilarious instead. +Recognising this, he blushed. + +"We'll meet in heaven, I daresay," the woman answered. "I put +the door-key, as you saw, under the empty geranium-pot 'pon the +window-ledge; an' whoever the new tenant's wife may be, she can eat +off the floor if she's minded. Now drive along, that's a good soul, +and leave us to fend for ourselves." + +They watched him out of sight before either stirred. The last decisive +step, the step across the Workhouse threshold, must be taken with none +to witness. If they could not pass out of their small world by the +more reputable mode of dying, they would at least depart with this +amount of mystery. They had left the village in Farmer Lear's cart, +and Farmer Lear had left them in the high road; and after that, +nothing should be known. + +"Shall we be moving on?" Jan asked at length. There was a gate beside +the road just there, with a small triangle of green before it, and +a granite roller half-buried in dock-leaves. Without answering, the +woman seated herself on this, and pulling a handful of the leaves, +dusted her shoes and skirt. + +"Maria, you'll take a chill that'll carry you off, sitting 'pon that +cold stone." + +"I don't care. 'Twon't carry me off afore I get inside, an' I'm going +in decent, or not at all. Come here, an' let me tittivate you." + +He sat down beside her, and submitted to be dusted. + +"You'd as lief lower me as not in their eyes, I verily believe." + +"I always was one to gather dust." + +"An' a fresh spot o' bacon-fat 'pon your weskit, that I've kept the +moths from since goodness knows when!" + +Old Jan looked down over his waistcoat. It was of good +"West-of-England broadcloth, and he had worn it on the day when he +married the woman at his side. + +"I'm thinking--" he began. + +"Hey?" + +"I'm thinking I'll find it hard to make friends in--in there. 'Tis +such a pity, to my thinking, that by reggilations we'll be parted so +soon as we get inside. You've a-got so used to my little ways +an' corners, an' we've a-got so many little secrets together an' +old-fash'ned odds an' ends o' knowledge, that you can take my meaning +almost afore I start to speak. An' that's a great comfort to a man o' +my age. It'll be terrible hard, when I wants to talk, to begin at the +beginning every time. There's that old yarn o' mine about Hambly's cow +an' the lawn-mowing machine--I doubt that anybody 'll enjoy it so +much as you always do; an' I've so got out o' the way o' telling the +beginning--which bain't extra funny, though needful to a stranger's +understanding the whole joke--that I 'most forgets how it goes." + +"We'll see one another now an' then, they tell me. The sexes meet for +Chris'mas-trees an' such-like." + +"I'm jealous that 'twon't be the same. You can't hold your triflin' +confabs with a great Chris'mas-tree blazin' away in your face as +important as a town afire." + +"Well, I'm going to start along," the old woman decided, getting on +her feet; "or else someone 'll be driving by and seeing us." + +Jan, too, stood up. + +"We may so well make our congees here," she went on, "as under the +porter's nose." + +An awkward silence fell between them for a minute, and these two old +creatures, who for more than fifty years had felt no constraint in +each other's presence, now looked into each other's eyes with a +fearful diffidence. Jan cleared his throat, much as if he had to make +a public speech. + +"Maria," he began in an unnatural voice, "we're bound for to part, and +I can trewly swear, on leaving ye, that--" + +"--that for two-score year and twelve It's never entered your head to +consider whether I've made 'ee a good wife or a bad. Kiss me, my old +man; for I tell 'ee I wouldn' ha' wished it other. An' thank 'ee for +trying to make that speech. What did it feel like?" + +"Why, 't rather reminded me o' the time when I offered 'ee marriage." + +"It reminded me o' that, too. Com'st along." + +They tottered down the hill towards the Workhouse gate. When they were +but ten yards from it, however, they heard the sound of wheels on +the road behind them, and walked bravely past, pretending to have no +business at that portal. They had descended a good thirty yards +beyond (such haste was put into them by dread of having their purpose +guessed) before the vehicle overtook them--a four-wheeled dog-cart +carrying a commercial traveller, who pulled up and offered them a lift +into the town. + +They declined. + +Then, as soon as he passed out of sight, they turned, and began +painfully to climb back towards the gate. Of the two, the woman had +shown the less emotion. But all the way her lips were at work, and as +she went she was praying a prayer. It was the only one she used night +and morning, and she had never changed a word since she learned it as +a chit of a child. Down to her seventieth year she had never found it +absurd to beseech God to make her "a good girl"; nor did she find it +so as the Workhouse gate opened, and she began a new life. + + + + +CUCKOO VALLEY RAILWAY + + +This century was still young and ardent when ruin fell upon Cuckoo +Valley. Its head rested on the slope of a high and sombre moorland, +scattered with granite and china-clay; and by the small town of +Ponteglos, where it widened out into arable and grey pasture-land, the +Cuckoo river grew deep enough to float up vessels of small tonnage +from the coast at the spring tides. I have seen there the boom of +a trading schooner brush the grasses on the river-bank as she came +before a southerly wind, and the haymakers stop and almost crick their +necks staring up at her top-sails. But between the moors and Ponteglos +the valley wound for fourteen miles or so between secular woods, so +steeply converging that for the most part no more room was left at the +bottom of the V than the river itself filled. The fisherman beside it +trampled on pimpernels, sundew, watermint, and asphodels, or pushed +between clumps of _Osmunda regalis_ that overtopped him by a couple of +feet. If he took to wading, there was much ado to stand against the +current. Only here and there it spread into a still black pool, +greased with eddies; and beside such a pool, it was odds that he found +a diminutive meadow, green and flat as a billiard-table, and edged +with clumps of fern. To think of Cuckoo Valley is to call up the smell +of that fern as it wrapped at the bottom of the creel the day's catch +of salmon-peal and trout. + +The town of Tregarrick (which possessed a gaol, a workhouse, and a +lunatic asylum, and called itself the centre of the Duchy) stood +three miles back from the lip of this happy valley, whither on summer +evenings its burghers rambled to eat cream and junket at the Dairy +Farm by the river bank, and afterwards sit to watch the fish rise, +while the youngsters and maidens played hide-and-seek in the woods. +But there came a day when the names of Watt and Stephenson waxed great +in the land, and these slow citizens caught the railway frenzy. +They took it, however, in their own fashion. They never dreamed of +connecting themselves with other towns and a larger world, but of +aggrandisement by means of a railway that should run from Tregarrick +to nowhere in particular, and bring the intervening wealth to their +doors. They planned a railway that should join Tregarrick with Cuckoo +Valley, and there divide into two branches, the one bringing ore and +clay from the moors, the other fetching up sand and coal from the sea. +Surveyors and engineers descended upon the woods; then a cloud of +navvies. The days were filled with the crash of falling timber and the +rush of emptied trucks. The stream was polluted, the fish died, the +fairies were evicted from their rings beneath the oak, the morals of +the junketing houses underwent change. The vale knew itself no longer; +its smoke went up week by week with the noise of pick-axes and oaths. + +On August 13th, 1834, the Mayor of Tregarrick declared the new line +open, and a locomotive was run along its rails to Dunford Bridge, at +the foot of the moors. The engine was christened _The Wonder of the +Age_; and I have before me a handbill of the festivities of that proud +day, which tells me that the mayor himself rode in an open truck, +"embellished with Union Jacks, lions and unicorns, and other loyal +devices." And then Nature settled down to heal her wounds, and the +Cuckoo Yalley Railway to pay no dividend to its promoters. + +It is now two years and more since, on an August day, I wound up my +line by Dunford Bridge, and sauntered towards the Light Horseman Inn, +two gunshots up the road. The time was four o'clock, or thereabouts, +and a young couple sat on a bench by the inn-door, drinking cocoa out +of one cup. Above their heads and along the house-front a vine-tree +straggled, but its foliage was too thin to afford a speck of shade as +they sat there in the eye of the westering sun. The man (aged about +one-and-twenty) wore the uncomfortable Sunday-best of a mechanic, +with a shrivelled, but still enormous, bunch of Sweet-William in his +buttonhole. The girl was dressed in a bright green gown and a white +bonnet. Both were flushed and perspiring, and I still think they must +have ordered hot cocoa in haste, and were repenting it at leisure. +They lifted their eyes and blushed with a yet warmer red as I passed +into the porch. + +Two men were seated in the cool tap-room, each with a pasty and a mug +of beer. A composition of sweat and coal-dust had caked their faces, +and so deftly smoothed all distinction out of their features that +it seemed at the moment natural and proper to take them for twins. +Perhaps this was an error: perhaps, too, their appearance of extreme +age was produced by the dark grey dust that overlaid so much of them +as showed above the table. As twins, however, I remember them, and +cannot shake off the impression that they had remained twins for an +unusual number of years. + +One addressed me. "Parties outside pretty comfortable?" he asked. + +"They were drinking out of the same cup," I answered. + +He nodded. "Made man and wife this mornin'. I don't fairly know +what's best to do. Lord knows I wouldn' hurry their soft looks and +dilly-dallyin'; but did 'ee notice how much beverage was left in the +cup?" + +"They was mated at Tregarrick, half-after-nine this mornin'," observed +the other twin, pulling out a great watch, "and we brought 'em +down here in a truck for their honeymoon. The agreement was for an +afternoon in the woods; but by crum! sir, they've sat there and held +one another's hand for up'ards of an hour after the stated time to +start. And we ha'nt the heart to tell 'em so." + +He walked across to the window and peered over the blind. + +"There's a mort of grounds in the cocoa that's sold here," he went +on, after a look, "and 'tisn't the sort that does the stomach good, +neither. For their own sakes, I'll give the word to start, and chance +their thankin' me some day later when they learn what things be made +of." + +The other twin arose, shook the crumbs off his trousers, and stretched +himself. I guessed now that this newly-married pair had delayed +traffic at the Dunford terminus of the Cuckoo Valley Railway for +almost an hour and a half; and I determined to travel into Tregarrick +by the same train. + +So we strolled out of the inn towards the line, the lovers following, +arm-in-arm, some fifty paces behind. + +"How far is it to the station?" I inquired. + +The twins stared at me. + +Presently we turned down a lane scored with dry ruts, passed an oak +plantation, and came on a clearing where the train stood ready. The +line did not finish: it ended in a heap of sand. There were eight +trucks, seven of them laden with granite, and an engine, with a +prodigiously long funnel, bearing the name _The Wonder of the Age_ in +brass letters along its boiler. + +"Now," said one of the twins, while the other raked up the furnace, +"you can ride in the empty truck with the lovers, or on the engine +along with us--which you like." + +I chose the engine. We climbed on board, gave a loud whistle, and +jolted oil. Far down, on our right, the river shone between the +trees, and these trees, encroaching on the track, almost joined their +branches above us. Ahead, the moss that grew upon the sleepers gave +the line the appearance of a green glade, and the grasses, starred +with golden-rod and mallow, grew tall to the very edge of the rails. +It seemed that in a few more years Nature would cover this scar +of 1834, and score the return match against man. Hails, engine, +officials, were already no better than ghosts: youth, and progress lay +in the pushing trees, the salmon leaping against the dam below, the +young man and maid sitting with clasped hands and amatory looks in the +hindmost truck. + +At the end of three miles or so we gave an alarming whistle, and +slowed down a bit. The trees were thinner here, and I saw that a +high-road came down the hill, and cut across our track some fifty +yards ahead. We prepared to cross it cautiously. + +"Ho-o-oy! Stop!" + +The brake was applied, and as we came to a standstill a party of men +and women descended the hill towards us. + +"'Tis Susan Warne's seventh goin' to be christen'd, by the look of +it," said the engine-driver beside me; "an', by crum! we've got the +Kimbly." + +The procession advanced. In the midst walked a stout woman, carrying a +baby in long clothes, and in front a man bearing in both hands a plate +covered with a white cloth. He stepped up beside the train, and, +almost before I had time to be astonished, a large yellow cake was +thrust into my hands. Engine-driver and stoker were also presented +with a cake apiece, and then the newly-married pair, who took and ate +with some shyness and giggling. + +"Is it a boy or a girl?" asked the stoker, with his mouth full. + +"A boy," the man answered; "and I count it good luck that you men of +modern ways should be the first we meet on our way to church. The +child 'll be a go-ahead if there's truth in omens." + +"You're right, naybour. We're the speediest men in this part of the +universe, I d' believe. Here's luck to 'ee, Susan Warne!" he piped +out, addressing one of the women; "an' if you want a name for your +seventh, you may christen 'en after the engine here, the _Wonder of +the Age_." + +We waved our hats and jolted off again towards Tregarrick. At the +end of the journey the railway officials declined to charge for +the pleasure of my company. But after some dispute, they agreed to +compromise by adjourning to the Railway Inn, and drinking prosperity +to Susan Warne's seventh. + + + + +THE CONSPIRACY ABOARD THE _MIDAS_. + + +"Are you going home to England? So am I. I'm Johnny; and I've never +been to England before, but I know all about it. There's great palaces +of gold and ivory--that's for the lords and bishops--and there's +Windsor Castle, the biggest of all, carved out of a single +diamond--that's for the queen. And she's the most beautiful lady in +the whole world, and feeds her peacocks and birds of paradise out of +a ruby cup. And there the sun is always shining, so that nobody wants +any candles. O, words would fail me if I endeavoured to convey to you +one-half of the splendours of that enchanted realm!" + +This last sentence tumbled so oddly from the childish lips, that I +could not hide a smile as I looked down on my visitor. He stood just +outside my cabin-door--a small serious boy of about eight, with long +flaxen curls hardly dry from his morning bath. In the pauses of +conversation he rubbed his head with a big bath-towel. His legs +and feet were bare, and he wore only a little shirt and velveteen +breeches, with scarlet ribbons hanging untied at the knees. + +"You're laughing!" + +I stifled the smile. + +"What were you laughing at?" + +"Why, you're wrong, little man, on just one or two points," I answered +evasively. + +"Which?" + +"Well, about the sunshine in England. The sun is not always shining +there, by any means." + +"I'm afraid you know very little about it," said the boy, shaking his +head. + +"Johnny! Johnny!" a voice called down the companion-ladder at this +moment. It was followed by a thin, weary-looking man, dressed in +carpet slippers and a suit of seedy black. I guessed his age at fifty, +but suspect now that the lines about his somewhat prim mouth were +traced there by sorrows rather than by years. He bowed to me shyly, +and addressed the boy. + +"Johnny, what are you doing here? in bare feet!" + +"Father, here is a man who says the sun doesn't always shine in +England." + +The man gave me a fleeting embarrassed glance, and echoed, as if to +shirk answering-- + +"In bare feet!" + +"But it does, doesn't it? Tell him that it does," the child insisted. + +Driven thus into a corner, the father turned his profile, avoiding my +eyes, and said dully-- + +"The sun is always shining in England." + +"Go on, father; tell him the rest." + +"--and the use of candles, except as a luxury, is consequently unknown +to the denizens of that favoured clime," he wound up, in the tone of a +man who repeats an old, old lecture. + +Johnny was turning to me triumphantly, when his father caught him by +the hand and led him back to his dressing. The movement was hasty, +almost rough. I stood at the cabin-door and looked after them. + +We were fellow-passengers aboard the _Midas_, a merchant barque of +near on a thousand tons, homeward bound from Cape Town; and we had +lost sight of the Table Mountain but a couple of days before. It was +the first week of the new year, and all day long a fiery sun made life +below deck insupportable. Nevertheless, though we three were the only +passengers on board, and lived constantly in sight of each other, it +was many days before I made any further acquaintance with Johnny and +his father. The sad-faced man clearly desired to avoid me, answering +my nod with a cold embarrassment, and clutching Johnny's hand whenever +the child called "Good-morning!" to me cordially. I fancied him +ashamed of his foolish falsehood; and I, on my side, was angry because +of it. The pair were for ever strolling backwards and forwards on +deck, or resting beneath the awning on the poop, and talking--always +talking. I fancied the boy was delicate; he certainly had a bad cough +during the first few days. But this went away as our voyage proceeded, +and his colour was rich and rosy. + +One afternoon I caught a fragment of their talk as they passed, Johnny +brightly dressed and smiling, his father looking even more shabby and +weary than usual. The man was speaking. + +"And Queen Victoria rides once a year through the streets of London on +her milk-white courser, to hear the nightingales sing in the Tower. +For when she came to the throne the Tower was full of prisoners, but +with a stroke of her sceptre she changed them all into song-birds. +Every year she releases fifty; and that is why they sing so +rapturously, because each one hopes his turn has come at last." + +I turned away. It was unconscionable to cram the child's mind +with these preposterous fables. I pictured the poor little chap's +disappointment when the bleak reality came to stare him in the face. +To my mind, his father was worse than an idiot, and I could hardly +bring myself to greet him next morning, when we met. + +My disgust did not seem to trouble him. In a timid way, even, his eyes +expressed satisfaction. For a week or two I let him alone, and then +was forced to speak. + +It happened in this way. We had spun merrily along the tail of the +S.E. trades and glided slowly to a standstill on a glassy ocean, and +beneath a sun that at noon left us shadowless. A fluke or two of wind +had helped us across the line; but now, in 2 deg. 27' north latitude, the +_Midas_ slept like a turtle on the greasy sea. The heat of the near +African coast seemed to beat like steam against our faces. The pitch +bubbled like caviare in the seams of the white deck, and the shrouds +and ratlines ran with tears of tar. To touch the brass rail of the +poop was to blister the hand, to catch a whiff from the cook's galley +was to feel sick for ten minutes. The hens in their coops lay with +eyes glazed and gasped for air. If you hung forward over the bulwarks +you stared down into your own face. The sailors grumbled and cursed +and panted as they huddled forward under a second awning that was +rigged up to give them shade rather than coolness; for coolness was +not to be had. + +On the second afternoon of the calm I happened to pass this awning, +and glanced in. Pretty well all the men were there, lounging, with +shirts open and chests streaming with sweat; and in their midst on a +barrel, sat Johnny, with a flushed face. + +The boatswain--Gibbings by name--was speaking. I heard him say--"An' +the Lord Mayor 'll be down to meet us, sonny, at the docks, wi' his +five-an'-fifty black boys all ablowin' blowin' Hallelujarum on their +silver key-bugles. An' we'll be took in tow to the Mansh'n 'Ouse an' +fed--" here he broke off and passed the back of his hand across his +mouth, with a glance at the ship's cook, who had been driven from his +galley by the heat. But the cook had no suggestions to make. His soul +was still sick with the reek of the boiled pork and pease pudding he +had cooked two hours before under a torrid and vertical sun. + +"We'll put it at hokey-pokey, nothin' a lump, if you _don't_ mind, +sonny," the boatswain went on; "in a nice airy parlour painted white, +with a gilt chandelier an' gilt combings to the wainscot." His picture +of the Mansion House as he proceeded was drawn from his reading in +the Book of Revelations and his own recollections of Thames-side +gin-palaces and the saloons of passenger steamers, and gave the +impression of a virtuous gambling-hell. The whole crew listened +admiringly, and it seemed they were all in the stupid conspiracy. I +resolved, for Johnny's sake, to protest, and that very evening drew +Gibbings aside and expostulated with him. + +"Why," I asked, "lay up this cruel, this certain disappointment for +the little chap? Why yarn to him as if he were bound for the New +Jerusalem?" + +The boatswain stared at me point-blank, at first incredulously, then +with something like pity. + +"Why, sir, don't you know? Can't you see for yoursel'? It's because +he _is_ bound for the New Jeroosalem; because--bless his tender +soul!--that's all the land he'll ever touch." + +"Good Lord!" I cried. "Nonsense! His cough's better; and look at his +cheeks." + +"Ay--we knows that colour on this line. His cough's better, you say; +and I say this weather's killing him. You just wait for the nor'-east +trades." + +I left Gibbings, and after pacing up and down the deck a few times, +stepped to the bulwarks, where a dark figure was leaning and gazing +out over the black waters. Johnny was in bed; and a great shame swept +over me as I noted the appealing wretchedness of this lonely form. + +I stepped up and touched him softly on the arm. + +"Sir, I am come to beg your forgiveness." + +Next morning I joined the conspiracy. + +After his father, I became Johnny's most constant companion. "Father +disliked you at first," was the child's frank comment; "he said you +told fibs, but now he wants us to be friends." And we were excellent +friends. I lied from morning to night--lied glibly, grandly. +Sometimes, indeed, as I lay awake in my berth, a horror took me lest +the springs of my imagination should run dry. But they never did. As a +liar, I out-classed every man on board. + +But by-and-bye, as we caught the first draught of the trades, the boy +began to punctuate my fables with that hateful cough. This went on for +a week; and one day, in the midst of our short stroll, his legs gave +way under him. As I caught him in my arms, he looked up with a smile. + +"I'm very weak, you know. But it'll be all right when I get to +England." + +But it was not till we had passed well beyond the equatorial belt that +Johnny grew visibly worse. In a week he had to lie still on his couch +beneath the awning, and the patter of his feet ceased on the deck. The +captain, who was a bit of a doctor, said to me one day-- + +"He will never live to see England." + +But he did. + +It was a soft spring afternoon when the _Midas_ sighted the Lizard, +and Johnny was still with us, lying on his couch, though almost too +weak to move a limb. As the day wore on we lifted him once or twice to +look. + +"Can you see them quite plain?" he asked; "and the precious stones +hanging on the trees? And the palaces--and the white elephants?" + +I stared through my glass at the serpentine rocks and white-washed +lighthouse above them, all powdered with bronze and gold by the +sinking sun, and answered-- + +"Yes, they are all there." + +All that afternoon we were beside him, looking out and peopling the +shores of home with all manner of vain shows and pageants; and when +one man broke down another took his place. + +As the sun fell, and twilight drew on, the bright revolving lights on +the two towers suddenly flashed out their greeting. We were about to +carry the child below, for the air was chilly; but he saw the flash, +and held up a feeble hand. + +"What is that?" + +"Those two lights," I answered, telling my final lie, "are the +lanterns of Cormelian and Cormoran, the two Cornish giants. They'll +be standing on the shore to welcome us. See--each swings his lantern +round, and then for a moment it is dark; now wait a moment, and you'll +see the light again." + +"Ah!" said the child, with a smile and a little sigh, "it is good to +be--home!" + +And with that word on his lips, as he waited for the next flash, +Johnny stretched himself and died. + + + + +LEGENDS OF ST. PIRAN. + + +I.--SAINT PIRAN AND THE MILLSTONE. + +Should you visit the Blackmore tin-streamers on their feast-day, which +falls on Friday-in-Lide (that is to say, the first Friday in March), +you may note a truly Celtic ceremony. On that day the tinners pick out +the sleepiest boy in the neighbourhood and send him up to the highest +_bound_ in the works, with instructions to sleep there as long as he +can. And by immemorial usage the length of his nap will be the measure +of the tinners' afternoon siesta for twelve months to come. + +Now, this first week in March is St. Piran's week: and St. Piran is +the miners' saint. To him the Cornishmen owe not only their tin, which +he discovered on the spot, but also their divine laziness, which he +brought across from Ireland and naturalised here. And I learned his +story one day from an old miner, as we ate our bread and cheese +together on the floor of Wheal Tregobbin, while the Davy lamp between +us made wavering giants of our shadows on the walls of the adit, and +the sea moaned as it tossed on its bed, two hundred feet above. + + * * * * * + +St. Piran was a little round man; and in the beginning he dwelt on +the north coast of Ireland, in a leafy mill, past which a stream came +tumbling down to the sea. After turning the saint's mill-wheel, the +stream dived over a fall into the Lough below, and the _lul-ul-ur-r-r_ +of the water-wheel and fall was a sleepy music in the saint's ear noon +and night. + +It must not be imagined that the mill-wheel ground anything. No; it +went round merely for the sake of its music. For all St. Piran's +business was the study of objects that presented themselves to his +notice, or, as he called it, the "Rapture av Contemplation"; and as +for his livelihood, he earned it in the simplest way. The waters of +the Lough below possessed a peculiar virtue. You had only to sink a +log or stick therein, and in fifty years' time that log or stick would +be turned to stone. St. Piran was as quick as you are to divine the +possibilities of easy competence offered by this spot. He took time by +the forelock, and in half a century was fairly started in business. +Henceforward he passed all his days among the rocks above the fall, +whistling to himself while he whittled bits of cork and wood into +quaint shapes, attached them to string, weighted them with pebbles, +and lowered them over the fall into the Lough--whence, after +fifty years he would draw them forth, and sell them to the simple +surrounding peasantry at two hundred and fifty _per centum per annum_ +on the initial cost. + +It was a tranquil, lucrative employment, and had he stuck to the +Rapture of Contemplation, he might have ended his days by the fall. +But in an unlucky hour he undertook to feed ten Irish kings and their +armies for three weeks anend on three cows. Even so he might have +escaped, had he only failed. Alas! As it was, the ten kings had no +sooner signed peace and drunk together than they marched up to St. +Piran's door, and began to hold an Indignation Meeting. + +"What's ailing wid ye, then?" asked the saint, poking his head out at +the door; "out wid ut! Did I not stuff ye wid cow-mate galore when the +land was as nakud as me tonshure? But 'twas three cows an' a miracle +wasted, I'm thinkin'." + +"Faith, an' ye've said ut!" answered one of the kings. "Three cows +between tin Oirish kings! 'Tis insultin'! Arrah, now, make it foive, +St. Piran darlint!" + +"Now may they make your stummucks ache for that word, ye marautherin' +thieves av the world!" + +And St. Piran slammed the door in their faces. + +But these kings were Ulstermen, and took things seriously. So they +went off and stirred up the people: and the end was that one sunshiny +morning a dirty rabble marched up to the mill and laid hands on the +saint. On what charge, do you think? Why, for _Being without Visible +Means of Support!_ + +"There's me pethrifyin' spicimins!" cried the saint: and he tugged at +one of the ropes that stretched down into the Lough. + +"Indade!" answered one of the ten kings: "Bad luck to your spicimins!" +says he. + +"Fwhat's that ye're tuggin.' at?" asks a bystander. + +"Now the Holy Mother presarve your eyesight, Tim Coolin," answers St. +Piran, pulling it in, "if ye can't tell a plain millstone at foive +paces! I never asked ye to see _through_ ut," he added, with a +twinkle, for Tim had a plentiful lack of brains, and that the company +knew. + +Sure enough it was a millstone, and a very neat one; and the saint, +having raised a bit of a laugh, went on like a cheap-jack: + +"Av there's any gintleman prisunt wid an eye for millstones, I'll +throuble him to turn ut here. Me own make," says he, "jooled in wan +hole, an' dog-chape at fifteen shillin'--" + +He was rattling away in this style when somebody called out, "To think +av a millstone bein' a visible means av support!" And this time the +laugh turned against the saint. + +"St. Piran dear, ye've got to die," says the spokesman. + +"Musha, musha!"--and the saint set up a wail and wrung his hands. "An' +how's it goin' to be?" he asked, breaking off; "an' if 'tis by Shamus +O'Neil's blunderbust that he's fumblin' yondther, will I stand afore +or ahint ut? for 'tis fatal both ends, I'm thinkin', like Barney +Sullivan's mule. Wirra, wirra! May our souls find mercy, Shamus +O'Neil, for we'll both, be wantin' ut this day. Better for you, +Shamus, that this millstone was hung round your black neck, an' you +drownin' in the dept's av the Lough!" + +The words were not spoken before they all set up a shout. "The +millstone! the millstone!" "Sthrap him to ut!" "He's named his +death!"--and inside of three minutes there was the saint, strapped +down on his own _specimen_. + +"Wirra, wirra!" he cried, and begged for mercy; but they raised a +devastating shindy, and gave the stone a trundle. Down the turf it +rolled and rolled, and then _whoo!_ leaped over the edge of the fall +into space and down--down--till it smote the waters far below, and +knocked a mighty hole in them, and went under-- + +For three seconds only. The next thing that the rabble saw as they +craned over the cliff was St. Piran floating quietly out to sea on the +millstone, for all the world as if on a life-belt, and untying his +bonds to use for a fishing-line! You see, this millstone had been made +of cork originally, and was only half petrified; and the old boy had +just beguiled them. When he had finished undoing the cords, he stood +up and bowed to them all very politely. + +"Visible Manes av Support, me childher--merely Visible Manes av +Support!" he called back. + +'Twas a sunshiny day, and while St. Piran chuckled the sea twinkled +all over with the jest. As for the crowd on the cliff, it looked +for five minutes as if the saint had petrified them harder than the +millstone. Then, as Tim Coolin told his wife, Mary Dogherty, that same +evening, they dispersed promiscuously in groups of one each. + +Meanwhile, the tides were bearing St. Piran and his millstone out into +the Atlantic, and he whiffed for mackerel all the way. And on the +morrow a stiff breeze sprang up and blew him sou'-sou-west until he +spied land; and so he stepped ashore on the Cornish coast. + +In Cornwall he lived many years till he died: and to this day there +are three places named after him--Perranaworthal, Perranuthno and +Perranzabuloe. But it was in the last named that he took most delight, +because at Perranzabuloe (Perochia Sti. Pirani in Sabulo) there was +nothing but sand to distract him from the Study of Objects that +Presented Themselves to his Notice: for he had given up miracles. So +he sat on the sands and taught the Cornish people how to be idle. Also +he discovered tin for them; but that was an accident. + + +II.--SAINT PIRAN AND THE VISITATION. + +A full fifty years had St. Piran dwelt among the sandhills between +Perranzabuloe and the sea before any big rush of saints began to pour +into Cornwall: for 'twas not till the old man had discovered tin for +us that they sprang up thick as blackberries all over the county; so +that in a way St. Piran had only himself to blame when his idle ways +grew to be a scandal by comparison with the push and bustle of the +newcomers. + +Never a notion had he that, from Rome to Land's End, all his holy +brethren were holding up their hands over his case. He sat in his +cottage above the sands at Perranzabuloe and dozed to the hum of the +breakers, in charity with all his parishioners, to whom his money +was large as the salt wind; for his sleeping partnership in the +tin-streaming business brought him a tidy income. And the folk knew +that if ever they wanted religion, they had only to knock and ask for +it. + +But one fine morning, an hour before noon, the whole parish sprang to +its feet at the sound of a horn. The blast was twice repeated, and +came from the little cottage across the sands. + +"'Tis the blessed saint's cow-horn!" they told each other. "Sure the +dear man must be in the article of death!" And they hurried off to the +cottage, man, woman, and child: for 'twas thirty years at least since +the horn had last been sounded. + +They pushed open the door, and there sat St. Piran in his arm-chair, +looking good for another twenty years, but considerably flustered. His +cheeks were red, and his fingers clutched the cow-horn nervously. + +"Andrew Penhaligon," said he to the first man that entered, "go you +out and ring the church bell." + +Off ran Andrew Penhaligon. "But, blessed father of us," said one or +two, "we're all _here_! There's no call to ring the church bell, seem' +you're neither dead nor afire, blessamercy!" + +"Oh, if you're all here, that alters the case; for 'tis only a +proclamation I have to give out at present. To-morrow mornin'--Glory +be to God!--I give warnin' that Divine service will take place in the +parish church." + +"You're sartin you bain't feelin' poorly, St. Piran dear?" asked one +of the women. + +"Thank you, Tidy Mennear, I'm enjoyin' health. But, as I was sayin', +the parish church 'll be needed to-morrow, an' so you'd best set to +and clean out the edifice: for I'm thinkin'," he added, "it'll be +needin' that." + +"To be sure, St. Piran dear, we'll humour ye." + +"'Tisn' that at all," the saint answered; "but I've had a vision." + +"Don't you often?" + +"H'm! but this was a peculiar vision; or maybe a bit of a birdeen +whispered it into my ear. Anyway, 'twas revealed to me just now in a +dream that I stood on the lawn at Bodmin Priory, and peeped in at the +Priory window. An' there in the long hall sat all the saints together +at a big table covered with red baize and plotted against us. There +was St. Petroc in the chair, with St. Guron by his side, an' St. Neot, +St. Udy, St. Teath, St. Keverne, St. Wen, St. Probus, St. Enodar, St. +Just, St. Fimbarrus, St. Clether, St. Germoe, St. Veryan, St. Winnock, +St. Minver, St. Anthony, with the virgins Grace, and Sinara, and +Iva--the whole passel of 'em. An' they were agreein' there was no +holiness left in this parish of mine; an' speakin' shame of me, my +childer--of me, that have banked your consciences these fifty years, +and always been able to pay on demand: the more by token that I kept a +big reserve, an' you knew it. Answer me: when was there ever a panic +in Perranzabuloe? ''Twas all very well,' said St. Neot, when his turn +came to speak, 'but this state o' things ought to be exposed.' He's +as big as bull's beef, is St. Neot, ever since he worked that miracle +over the fishes, an' reckons he can disparage an old man who was +makin' millstones to float when he was suckin' a coral. But the upshot +is, they're goin' to pay us a Visitation to-morrow, by surprise. And, +if only for the parish credit, we'll be even wid um, by dad!" + +St. Piran still lapsed into his native brogue when strongly excited. + +But he had hardly done when Andrew Penhaligon came running in-- + +"St. Piran, honey, I've searched everywhere; an' be hanged to me if I +can find the church at all!" + +"Fwhat's become av ut?" cried the saint, sitting up sharply. + +"How should I know? But devil a trace can I see!" + +"Now, look here," St. Piran said; "the church was there, right +enough." + +"That's a true word," spoke up an old man, "for I mind it well. An +elegant tower it had, an' a shingle roof." + +"Spake up, now," said the saint, glaring around; "fwich av ye's gone +an' misbestowed me parush church? For I won't believe," he said, "that +it's any worse than carelussness--at laste, not yet-a-bit." + +Some remembered the church, and some did not: but the faces of all +were clear of guilt. They trooped out on the sands to search. + +Now, the sands by Perranzabuloe are for ever shifting and driving +before the northerly and nor'-westerly gales; and in time had heaped +themselves up and covered the building out of sight. To guess this +took the saint less time than you can wink your eye in; but the bother +was that no one remembered exactly where the church, had stood, and as +there were two score at least of tall mounds along the shore, and all +of pretty equal height, there was no knowing where to dig. To uncover +them all was a job to last till doomsday. + +"Blur-an'-agurs, but it's ruined I am!" cried St. Piran. "An' the +Visitashun no further away than to-morra at tin a.m.!" He wrung his +hands, then caught up a spade, and began digging like a madman. + +They searched all day, and with lanterns all the night through: they +searched from Ligger Point to Porth Towan: but came on never a sign of +the missing church. + +"If it only had a spire," one said, "there'd be some chance." But as +far as could be recollected, the building had a dumpy tower. + +"Once caught, twice shy," said another; "let us find it this once, an' +next time we'll have landmarks to dig it out by." + +It was at sunrise that St. Piran, worn-out and heart-sick, let fall +his spade and spoke from one of the tall mounds, where he had been +digging for an hour. + +"My children," he began, and the men uncovered their heads, "my +children, we are going to be disgraced this day, and the best we can +do is to pray that we may take it like men. Let us pray." + +He knelt down on the great sand-hill, and the men and women around +dropped on their knees also. And then St. Piran put up the prayer that +has made his name famous all the world over. + +_THE PRAYER OF ST. PIRAN. + +Harr us, O Lord, and be debonair: for ours is a particular case. We +are not like the men of St. Neot or the men of St. Udy, who are for +ever importuning Thee upon the least occasion, praying at all hours +and every day of the week. Thou knowest it is only with extreme +cause that we bring ourselves to trouble Thee. Therefore regard our +moderation in time past, and be instant to help us now. Amen_. + +There was silence for a full minute as he ceased; and then the +kneeling parishioners lifted their eyes towards the top of the mound. + +St. Piran was nowhere to be seen! + +They stared into each other's faces. For a while not a sound was +uttered. Then a woman began to sob-- + +"We've lost 'en! We've lost 'en!" + +"Like Enoch, he's been taken!" + +"Taken up in a chariot an' horses o' fire. Did any see 'en go?" + +"An' what'll we do without 'en? Holy St. Piran, come back to us!" + +"Hullo! hush a bit an' hearken!" cried Andrew Penhaligon, lifting a +hand. + +They were silent, and listening as he commanded, heard a muffled voice +and a faint, calling as it were from the bowels of the earth. + +"Fetch a ladder!" it said: "fetch a ladder! It's meself that's found +ut, glory be to God! Holy queen av heaven! but me mouth is full av +sand, an' it's burstin' I'll be if ye don't fetch a ladder quick!" + +They brought a ladder and set it against the mound. Three of the men +climbed up. At the top they found a big round hole, from the lip of +which they scraped the sand away, discovering a patch of shingle roof, +through which St. Piran--whose weight had increased of late--had +broken and tumbled heels over head into his own church. + +Three hours later there appeared on the eastern sky-line, against the +yellow blaze of the morning, a large cavalcade that slowly pricked its +way over the edge and descended the slopes of Newlyn Downs. It was the +Visitation. In the midst rode St. Petroc, his crozier tucked under his +arm, astride a white mule with scarlet ear-tassels and bells and a +saddle of scarlet leather. He gazed across the sands to the sea, and +turned to St. Neot, who towered at his side upon a flea-bitten grey. + +"The parish seems to be deserted," said he: "not a man nor woman can I +see, nor a trace of smoke above the chimneys." + +St. Neot tightened his thin lips. In his secret heart he was mightily +pleased. + +"Eight in the morning," he answered, with a glance back at the sun. +"They'll be all abed, I'll warrant you." + +St. Petroc muttered a threat. + +They entered the village street. Not a soul turned out at their +coming. Every cottage door was fast closed, nor could any amount of +knocking elicit an answer or entice a face to a window. In gathering +wrath the visiting saints rode along the sea-shore to St. Piran's +small hut. + +Here the door stood open: but the hut was empty. A meagre breakfast of +herbs was set out on the table, and a brand new scourge lay somewhat +ostentatiously beside the platter. The visitors stood nonplussed, +looked at each other, then eyed the landscape. Between barren sea +and barren downs the beach stretched away, with not a human shape in +sight. St. Petroc, choking with impotent wrath, appeared to study the +hollow green breakers from between the long ears of his mule, but with +quick sidelong glances right and left, ready to jump down the throat +of the first saint that dared to smile. + +After a minute or so St. Enodar suddenly turned his face inland, and +held up a finger. + +"Hark!" he shouted above the roar of the sea. + +"What is it?" + +"It sounds to me," said St. Petroc, after listening for some moments +with his head on one side, "it sounds to me like a hymn." + +"To be sure 'tis a hymn," said St. Enodar, "and the tune is 'Mullyon,' +for a crown." And he pursed up his lips and followed the chant, +beating time with his forefinger-- + + _When, like a thief, the Midianite + Shall steal upon the camp, + O, let him find our armour bright, + And oil within our lamp!_" + +"But where in the world does it come from?" asked St. Neot. + +This could not be answered for the moment; but the saints turned their +horses' heads from the sea, and moved slowly on the track of the +sound, which at every step grew louder and more distinct. + + "_It is at no appointed hours, + It is not by the dock, + That Satan, grisly wolf, devours + The unprotected flock_" + +The visitors found themselves at the foot of an enormous sand-hill, +from the top of which the chant was pouring as lava from a crater. +They set their ears to the sandy wall. They walked round it, and +listened again. + + "_But ever prowls th' insidious foe, + And listens round the fold_" + +This was too much. St. Petroc smote twice upon the sand-hill with his +crozier, and shouted-- + +"Hi, there!" + +The chant ceased. For at least a couple of minutes nothing happened; +and then St. Piran's bald head was thrust cautiously forward over the +summit. + +"Holy St. Petroc! Was it only you, after all? And St. Neot--and St. +Udy O, glory be!" + +"Why, who did you imagine we were?" St. Petroc asked, still in +amazement. + +"Why, throat-cutting Danes, to be sure, by the way you were comin' +over the hills when we spied you, three hours back. An' the trouble +we've had to cover up our blessed church out o' sight of thim +marautherin' thieves! An' the intire parish gathered inside here an' +singin' good-by songs in expectation of imminent death! An' to think +'twas you holy men, all the while! But why didn't ye send word ye was +comin', St. Petroc, darlint? For it's little but sand ye'll find in +your mouths for breakfast, I'm thinkin'." + + + + +IN THE TRAIN. + + +I.--PUNCH'S UNDERSTUDY. + +The first-class smoking compartment was the emptiest in the whole +train, and even this was hot to suffocation, because my only companion +denied me more than an inch of open window. His chest, he explained +curtly, was "susceptible." As we crawled westward through the glaring +country, the sun's rays reverberated on the carriage roof till I +seemed to be crushed under an anvil, counting the strokes. I had +dropped my book, and was staring listlessly out of the window. At the +other end of the compartment my fellow-passenger had pulled down the +blinds, and hidden his face behind the _Western Morning News_. He +was a red and choleric little man of about sixty, with a protuberant +stomach, a prodigious nose, to which he carried snuff about once in +two minutes, and a marked deformity of the shoulders. For comfort--and +also, perhaps, to hide this hump--he rested his back in the angle +by the window. He wore a black alpaca coat, a high stock, white +waistcoat, and trousers of shepherd's plaid. On these and a few other +trivial details I built a lazy hypothesis that he was a lawyer, and +unmarried. + +Just before entering the station at Lostwithiel, our train passed +between the white gates of a level crossing. A moment before I had +caught sight of the George drooping from the church spire, and at the +crossing I saw it was regatta-day in the small town. The road was +thick with people and lined with sweet-standings; and by the near end +of the bridge a Punch-and-Judy show had just closed a performance. The +orchestra had unloosed his drum, and fallen to mopping the back of his +neck with the red handkerchief that had previously bound the panpipes +to his chin. A crowd still loitered around, and among it I noted +several men and women in black--ugly stains upon the pervading +sunshine. + +The station platform was cram-full as we drew up, and it was clear at +once that all the carriages in the train would be besieged, without +regard to class. By some chance, however, ours was neglected, and +until the very last moment we seemed likely to escape. The guard's +whistle was between his lips when I heard a shout, then one or two +feminine screams, and a company of seven or eight persons came +charging out of the booking-office. Every one of them was apparelled +in black: they were, in fact, the people I had seen gaping at the +Punch-and-Judy show. + +In a moment one of the men tore open the door of our compartment, and +we were invaded. One--two--four--six--seven--in they poured, tumbling +over my legs, panting, giggling inanely, exhorting each other to +hurry--an old man, two youths, three middle-aged women, and a little +girl about four years old. I heard a fierce guttural sound, and saw my +fellow-passenger on his feet, choking with wrath and gesticulating. +But the guard slammed the door on his resentment, and the train moved +on. As it gathered speed he fell back, all purple above his stock, +snatched his malacca walking-cane from under the coat-tails of a +subsiding youth, stuck it upright between his knees, and glared round +upon the intruders. They were still possessed with excitement over +their narrow escape, and unconscious of offence. One of the women +dropped into the corner seat, and took the little girl on her lap. The +child's dusty boots rubbed against the old gentleman's trousers. He +shifted his position, grunted, and took snuff furiously. + +"That was nibby-jibby," observed the old man of the party, while his +eyes wandered round for a seat. + +"I declare I thought I should ha' died," panted a robust-looking woman +with a wart on her cheek, and a yard of crape hanging from her bonnet. +"Can't 'een find nowhere to sit, uncle?" + +"Reckon I must make shift 'pon your lap, Susannah." + +This was said with a chuckle, and the woman tittered. + +"What new-fang'd game be this o' the Great Western's? Arms to the +seats, I vow. We'll have to sit intimate, my dears." + +"'Tis First Class," one of the young men announced in a chastened +whisper: "I saw it written on the door." + +There was a short silence of awe. + +"Well!" ejaculated Susannah: "I thought, when first I sat down, that +the cushions felt extraordinary plum. You don't think they'll fine +us?" + +"It all comes of our stoppin' to gaze at that Punch-an'-Judy," the old +fellow went on, after I had shown them how to turn back the arm-seats, +and they were settled in something like comfort. "But I never _could_ +refrain from that antic, though I feels condemned too, in a way, an' +poor Thomas laid in earth no longer ago than twelve noon. But in the +midst of life we are in death." + +"I don't remember a more successful buryin'," said the woman who held +the little girl. + +"That was partly luck, as you may say, it bein' regatta-day an' the +fun o' the fair not properly begun. I counted a lot at the cemetery I +didn' know by face, an' I set 'em down for excursionists, that caught +sight of a funeral, an' followed it to fill up the time." + +"It all added." + +"Oh, aye; Thomas was beautifully interred." + +By this time the heat in the carriage was hardly more overpowering +than the smell of crape, broadcloth, and camphor. The youth who had +wedged himself next to me carried a large packet of "fairing," which +he had bought at one of the sweet-stalls. He began to insert it into +his side pocket, and in his struggles drove an elbow sharply into my +ribs. I shifted my position a little. + +"Tom's wife would ha' felt it a source o' pride, had she lived." + +But I ceased to listen; for in moving I had happened to glance at the +further end of the carriage, and there my attention was arrested by +a curious little piece of pantomime. The little girl--a dark-eyed, +intelligent child, whose pallor was emphasised by the crape which +smothered her--was looking very closely at the old gentleman with the +hump--staring at him hard, in fact. He, on the other hand, was leaning +forward, with both hands on the knob of his malacca, his eyes bent on +the floor and his mouth squared to the surliest expression. He +seemed quite unconscious of her scrutiny, and was tapping one foot +impatiently on the floor. + +After a minute I was surprised to see her lean forward and touch him +gently on the knee. + +He took no notice beyond shuffling about a little and uttering a +slight growl. The woman who held her put out an arm and drew back +the child's hand reprovingly. The child paid no heed to this, but +continued to stare. Then in another minute she again bent forward, and +tapped the old gentleman's knee. + +This time she fetched a louder growl from him, and an irascible glare. +Not in the least daunted, she took hold of his malacca, and shook it +to and fro in her small hand. + +"I wish to heavens, madam, you'd keep your child to yourself!" + +"For shame, Annie!" whispered the poor woman, cowed by his look. + +But again Annie paid no heed. Instead, she pushed the malacca towards +the old gentleman, saying-- + +"Please, sir, will 'ee warm Mister Barrabel wi' this?" + +He moved uneasily, and looked harshly at her without answering. "For +shame, Annie!" the woman murmured a second time; but I saw her lean +back, and a tear started and rolled down her cheek. + +"If you please, sir," repeated Annie, "will 'ee warm Mister Barrabel +wi' this?" + +The old gentleman stared round the carriage. In his eyes you could +read the question, "What in the devil's name does the child mean?" The +robust woman read it there, and answered him huskily-- + +"Poor mite! she's buried her father this mornin'; an' Mister Barrabel +is the coffin-maker, an' nailed 'en down." + +"Now," said Annie, this time eagerly, "will 'ee warm him same as the +big doll did just now?" + +Luckily, the old gentleman did not understand this last allusion. He +had not seen the group around the Punch-and-Judy show; nor, if he had, +is it likely he would have guessed the train of thought in the child's +mind. But to me, as I looked at my fellow-passenger's nose and the +deformity of his shoulders, and remembered how Punch treats the +undertaker in the immortal drama, it was all plain enough. I glanced +at the child's companions. Nothing in their faces showed that they +took the allusion; and the next moment I was glad to think that I +alone knew what had prompted Annie's speech. + +For the next moment, with a beautiful change on his face, the old +gentleman had taken the child on his knee, and was talking to her as I +dare say he had never talked before. + +"Are you her mother?" he asked, looking up suddenly, and addressing +the woman opposite. + +"Her mother's been dead these two year. I'm her aunt, an' I'm takin' +her home to rear 'long wi' my own childer." + +He was bending over Annie, and had resumed his chat. It was all +nonsense--something about the silver knob of his malacca--but it took +hold of the child's fancy and comforted her. At the next station I had +to alight, for it was the end of my journey. But looking back into +the carriage as I shut the door, I saw Annie bending forward over the +walking-stick, and following the pattern of its silverwork with her +small finger. Her face was turned from the old gentleman's, and behind +her little black hat his eyes were glistening. + + +II.--A CORRECTED CONTEMPT. + +The whistles had sounded, and we were already moving slowly out of St. +David's Station, Exeter, to continue our journey westward, when +the door was pulled open and a brown bag, followed by a whiff of +_Millefleurs_ and an over-dressed young man, came flying into the +compartment where I sat alone and smoked. + +The youth scrambled to a seat as the door slammed behind him; remarked +that it was "a near shave"; and laughed nervously as if to assure +me that he found it a joke. His face was pink with running, and the +colour contrasted unpleasantly with his pale sandy hair and moustache. +He wore a light check suit, a light-blue tie knotted through a +"Mizpah" ring, a white straw hat with a blue ribbon, and two +finger-rings set with sham diamonds--altogether the sort of outfit +that its owner would probably have described as "rather nobby." +Feeling that just now it needed a few repairs, he opened the bag, +pulled out a duster and flicked away for half-a-minute at his brown +boots. Next with a handkerchief he mopped his face and wiped round the +inner edge first of his straw hat, and then of his collar and cuffs. +After this he stood up, shook his trousers till they hung with +a satisfying gracefulness, produced a cigar-case--covered with +forget-me-nots in crewel work--and a copy of the _Sporting Times_, sat +down again, and asked me if I could oblige him with a light. + +I think the train had neared Dawlish before the cigar was fairly +started, and his pink face hidden behind the pink newspaper. But even +so between the red sandstone cliffs and the wholesome sea this pink +thing would not sit still. His diamond rings kept flirting round the +edge of the _Sporting Times_, his brown boots shifting their position +on the cushion in front of him, his legs crossing, uncrossing, +recrossing, his cigar-smoke rising in quick, uneasy puffs. + +Between Teignmouth and Newton Abbot this restlessness increased. He +dropped some cigar-ash on his waistcoat and arose to shake it off. +Twice or thrice he picked up the paper and set it down again. As we +ran into Newton Abbot Station, he came over to my side of the carriage +and scanned the small crowd upon the platform. Suddenly his pink +cheeks flushed to crimson. The train was slowing to a standstill, and +while he hesitated with a hand on the door, a little old man came +trotting down the platform--a tremulous little man, in greenish black +broadcloth, eloquent of continued depression in some village retail +trade. His watery eyes shone brimful of pride and gladness. + +"Whai, Charley, lad, there you be, to be shure; an' lookin' as peart +as a gladdy! Shaaeke your old vather's vist, lad--ees fay, you be +lookin' well!" + +The youth, scorched with a miserable shame, stepped out, put his hand +in his father's, and tried to withdraw him a little up the platform +and out of my hearing. + +"Noa, noa; us'll bide where us be, zoa's to be 'andy vur the train +when her starts off. Her doan't stay no while. I vound Zam Emmet +zarving here as porter--you mind Zam? Danged if I knawed 'en, vurst +along, the vace of 'en's that altered: grawed a beard, her hev. But +her zays to me, 'How be gettin' 'long, Isaac?' an' then I zaw who +'twas--an' us fell to talkin', and her zaid the train staps vaive +minnits, no more nor less." + +His son interrupted him with mincing haughtiness. + +"'Ow's mothaw?" + +"Weist an' ailin', poor crittur--weist an' ailin'. Dree times her've +a-been through the galvanic battery, an' might zo well whistle. Turble +lot o' zickness about. An' old Miss Ruby's resaigned, an' a new +postmistress come in her plaaece--a tongue-tight pore crittur, an' +talks London. If you'll b'lieve _me_, Miss Ruby's been to Plymouth +'pon her zavings an' come back wi' vifteen pound' worth of valse teeth +in her jaws, which, as I zaid, 'You must excoose my plain speakin', +but they've a-broadened your mouth, Miss Ruby, an' I laiked 'ee better +as you was bevore.' 'Never mind,' her zays, 'I can chow.' There now, +Charley--zimme I've been doing arl the tarlk, an' thy mother'll be +waitin' wi' dree-score o' questions, zoon as I gets whome. Her'd ha' +corned to gie thee a kiss, if her'd a-been 'n a vit staaete; but her's +zent thee zummat--" + +He foraged in the skirt pockets of his threadbare coat and brought +out a paper of sandwiches and a long-nosed apple. I saw the young man +wince. + +"Her reckoned you'd veel a wamblin' in the stommick, travellin' arl +the waaey from Hexeter to Plymouth. There, stow it awaaey. Not veelin' +peckish? Never maind: there's a plenty o' taime betwix' this an' +Plymouth." + +"No, thanks." + +"Tut-tut, now--" He insisted, and the packet, on the white paper +wrapper of which spots of grease were spreading, changed hands. The +little man peered wistfully up into his son's face: his own eyes were +full of love, but seemed to search for something. + +"How dost laike it, up to Hexeter: an' how't get along?" + +"Kepital--kepital. Give mothaw my love." + +"E'es be shure. Fainely plaized her'll be to hear thee'rt zo naicely +adrest. Her'd maaede up her maind, pore zowl, that arl your buttons ud +be out, wi' nobody to zee arter 'en. But I declare thee'rt drest laike +a topsawyer." + +And with this a dead silence fell between the two. The old man shifted +his weight from one foot to another, and twice cleared his throat. The +young counter-jumper averted his eyes from his father's quivering lip +to stare up the platform. The minutes ran on. + +At last the old man found his voice-- + +"Thic' there's a stubbard apple you've got in your hand." + +"Take your seats, please!" + +The guard held the door while they shook hands again. "Charley" leaned +out at the window as our train began to move. + +"Her comes from the zeccond 'spalier past the inyon-bed; al'ays the +vurst to raipen, thic' there tree." + +The old fellow broke into something resembling a run as he followed +our carriage to shout-- + +"Turble bad zayson vur zaider!" + +With that he halted at the end of the platform, and watched us out of +sight. His son flung himself on the seat with--I could have kicked him +for it--a deprecatory titter. Then he drew a long breath; but it was +twenty minutes before his blush faded, and he regained confidence to +ask me for another light. + +Just eighteen months after I was travelling up to London in the Zulu +express. A large Fair Trade meeting had been held at Plymouth the +night before, and three farmers in the compartment with me were +discussing that morning's leader in the _Western Daily Mercury_. One +of them had already been goaded into violent speech when we halted at +Newton Abbot and another passenger stepped in--a little old man in a +suit of black. + +I recognised him at once. And yet he was changed woefully. He had +fallen away in flesh; the lines had deepened beside his upper lip; and +in spite of a glossier suit he had an appearance of hopelessness which +he had not worn when I saw him for the first time. + +He took his seat, looked about him vacantly and caught the eye of the +angry farmer, who nodded, broke off his speech in the middle of a +sentence, and asked in a curiously gentle voice-- + +"Travellin' up to Exeter?" + +The old man bent his head for "yes," and I saw the tears well up in +his weak eyes. + +"There's no need vur to ax your arrand." The farmer here dropped his +tone almost to a whisper. + +"Naw, naw. I be goin' up to berry 'en. Ees, vriends," he went on, +looking around and asking, with that glance, the sympathy of all +present, "to berry my zon, my clever zon, my only zon." + +Nobody spoke for a few seconds. Then the kindly farmer observed-- + +"Aye, I've heerd zay a' was very clever to his traaede. 'Uxtable an' +Co., his employers, spoke very handsome of 'en, they tell me. I can't +call to maind, tho', that I've a-zet eyes 'pon the young man since he +was a little tacker." + +The old man began to fumble in his breastpocket, and drawing out a +photograph, handed it across. + +"That's the last that was took of 'en." + +"Pore young chap," said the farmer, holding the likeness level with +his eyes and studying it; "Pore young chap! Zuch a respectable lad to +look at! They tell me a' made ye a gude zon, too." + +"Gude?" The tears ran down the father's face and splashed on his +hands, trembling as they folded over the knob of his stout stick. +"Gude? I b'lieve, vriends, ye'll call it gude when a young man zends +the third o' his earnin's week by week to help his parents. That's +what my zon did, vrum the taime he left whome. An' presunts--never a +month went by, but zome little gift ud come by the postman; an' little +'twas he'd got to live 'pon, at the best, the dear lad--" + +The farmer was passing back the photograph. "May I see it?" I asked: +and the old man nodded. + +It was the same face--the same suit, even--that had roused my contempt +eighteen months before. + + + + +WOON GATE. + +It was on a cold and drenching afternoon in October that I spent an +hour at Woon Gate: for in all the homeless landscape this little +round-house offers the only shelter, its windows looking east and west +along the high-road and abroad upon miles of moorland, hedgeless, +dotted with peat-ricks, inhabited only by flocks of grey geese and a +declining breed of ponies, the chartered vagrants of Woon Down. Two +miles and more to the north, and just under the rim of the horizon, +straggle the cottages of a few tin-streamers, with their backs to the +wind. These look down across an arable country, into which the women +descend to work at seed-time and harvest, and whence, returning, they +bring some news of the world. But Woon Gate lies remoter. It was never +more than a turnpike; and now the gate is down, the toll-keeper dead, +and his widow lives alone in the round-house. She opened the door +to me--a pleasant-faced old woman of seventy, in a muslin cap, red +turnover, and grey gown hitched very high. She wore no shoes inside +her cottage, but went about in a pair of coarse worsted stockings on +all days except the very rawest, when the chill of the lime-ash floor +struck into her bones. + +"May I wait a few minutes till the weather lifts?" I asked. + +She smiled and seemed almost grateful. + +"You'm kindly welcome, be sure: that's if you don't mind the +Vaccination." + +I suppose that my face expressed some wonder: for she went on, shaking +my dripping hat and hanging it on a nail by the fire-- + +"Doctor Rodda'll be comin' in half-an-hour's time. 'Tis district +Vaccination to-day, and he always inoculates here, 'tis so handy." + +She nodded her head at half a dozen deal chairs and a form arrayed +round the wall under a row of sacred texts and tradesmen's almanacks. + +"There'll be nine to-day, as I makes it out. I counted 'em up several +times last night." + +It was evidently a great day in her eyes. + +"But you've allowed room for many more than nine," I pointed out. + +"Why, of course. There's some brings their elder childer for a +treat--an' there's always 'Melia Penaluna." + +I was on the point of asking who Amelia Penaluna might be, when my +attention was drawn to the small eastern window. Just outside, and +but a dozen paces from the house, there stretched a sullen pond, +over which the wind drove in scuds and whipped the sparse reeds that +encroached around its margin. Beside the further bank of the pond +the high-road was joined by a narrow causeway that led down from +the northern fringe of Woon Down; and along this causeway moved a +procession of women and children. + +They were about twenty in all, and, as they skirted the pond, their +figures were sharply silhouetted against the grey sky. Each of the +women held a baby close to her breast and bent over it as she advanced +against the wind, that beat her gown tightly against her legs and +blew it out behind in bellying folds. Yet beneath their uncouth and +bedraggled garments they moved like mothers of a mighty race, tall, +large-limbed, broad of hip, hiding generous breasts beneath the +shawls--red, grey, and black--that covered their babes from the wind +and rain. A few of the children struggled forward under ricketty +umbrellas; but the mothers had their hands full, and strode along +unsheltered. More than one, indeed, faced the storm without bonnet or +covering for the head; and all marched along the causeway like figures +on some sculptured frieze, their shadows broken beneath them on the +ruffled surface of the pond. I said that each of the women carried a +babe: but there was one who did not--a plain, squat creature, at the +tail of the procession, who wore a thick scarf round her neck, and a +shawl of divers bright colours. She led a small child along with one +hand, and with the other attempted to keep a large umbrella against +the wind. + +"Nineteen--twenty--twenty-one," counted the toll-keeper's widow behind +me as I watched the spasmodic jerkings of this umbrella. "I wasn't far +out in my reckon. And you, sir, make twenty-two. It niver rains but it +pours, they say. Times enow I don't see a soul for days together, not +to hail by name, an' now you drops in on top of a Vaccination." + +Her sigh over this plethora of good fortune was interrupted by a +knocking at the door, and the mothers trooped in, their clothes +dripping pools of water on the sanded lime-ash. One or two of them, +after exchanging greetings with their hostess, bade me Good-morning: +others eyed me in silence as they took their seats round the wall. +All whose babes were not sound asleep quietly undid their bodices and +began to give them suck. The older children scrambled into chairs and +sat kicking their heels and tracing patterns on the floor with the +water that ran off their umbrellas. They were restless but rather +silent, as if awed by the shadow of the coming Vaccination. The woman +who had brought up the procession, found a place in the far corner, +and began to unwind the comforter around her neck. Her eyes were +brighter and more agitated than any in the room. + +"A brave trapse all the way from Upper Woon," remarked the youngest +mother, wiping a smear of rain from her baby's forehead. + +"Ah, 'tis your first, Mary Polsue. Wait till you've carried twelve +such loads, my dear," said a tall middle-aged woman, whose black hair, +coarse as a mane, was powdered grey with, raindrops. + +"Dear now, Ellen; be this the twelfth?" our hostess exclaimed. "I was +reckonin' it the 'leventh." + +"Ay, th' twelfth--tho' I've most lost count. I buried one, you know." + +"For my part," put in a pale-eyed blonde, who sat near the door, "'t +seems but yestiddy I was here with Alsia yonder." She nodded her head +towards a girl of five who was screwing herself round in her chair and +trying to peep out of the window. + +"Ay, they come and come: the Lord knows wherefore," the tall woman +assented. "When they'm young they make your arms ache, an' when they +grow up they make your heart ache." + +"But 'Melia Penaluna's been here more times than any of us," said the +blonde with a titter, directing her eyes towards a corner of the room. +The rest looked too, and laughed. Turning, I saw that the plain-faced +woman had unwound her comforter, and now I could see, hanging low on +her chest, an immense lump wrapped in clean white linen and bound up +with a gaudy yellow handkerchief. It was a goitre. + +"Iss, my dears," she answered, touching it and smiling, but with tears +in her eyes; "this here's my only child, an' iver will be. Ne'er a +man'll look 'pon me, so I'm forced to be content wi' this babe and +clothe 'en pretty, as you see. Ah, you'm lucky, you'm lucky, though +you talk so!" + +"She's terrible fond o' childer," said one of the women audibly, +addressing me. "How many 'noculations have you 'tended, 'Melia?" + +"Six-an'-twenty, countin' to-day," 'Melia announced with pride in her +trembling voice. But at this point one of the infants began to cry, +and before he could be hushed the noise of wheels sounded down the +road, and Dr. Rodda drove up in his reedy gig. + +He was a round, dapper practitioner, with slightly soiled cuffs and +an extremely business-like manner. On entering the room he jerked his +head in a general nod to all present, and stepping to the table, drew +a small packet from his waistcoat, and unfolded it. It contained about +a score of small pieces of ivory, pointed like pens, but flat. Then, +pulling out a paper and consulting it hastily, he set to work, +beginning with the child that lay on the blonde woman's lap, next to +the door. + +I looked around. The children were staring with wide, admiring eyes. +Their mothers also watched, but listlessly, still suckling their babes +as each waited its turn. Only 'Melia Penaluna winced and squeezed her +hands together whenever a feeble wailing told that one of the vaccine +points had made itself felt. + +"Do 'ee think it hurts the poor mites?" the youngest mother asked. + +"Not much, I reckon," answered the big woman. + +Nevertheless her own child cried pitifully when its turn came. And as +it cried, the childless woman in the corner got off her chair and ran +forward tremulously. + +"'Becca, let me take him. Do'ee, co!" + +"'Melia Penaluna, you'm no better 'n a fool." + +But poor, misnamed Amelia was already back in her corner with the +child, hugging it, kissing it, rocking it in her arms, crooning over +it, holding it tightly against the lump that hung down on her barren +bosom. Long after the baby had ceased to cry she sat crooning and +yearning over it. And the mothers watched her, with wonder and +scornful amusement in their eyes. + + + + +FROM A COTTAGE IN GANTICK. + + +I.--THE MOURNER'S HORSE. + +The Board Schoolmaster and I are not friends. He is something of +a zealot, and conceives it his mission to weed out the small +superstitions of the countryside and plant exact information in their +stead. He comes from up the country--a thin, clean-shaven town-bred +man, whose black habit and tall hat, though considerably bronzed, +refuse to harmonise with the scenery amid which they move. His speech +is formal and slightly dogmatic, and in argument he always gets the +better of me. Therefore, feeling sure it will annoy him excessively, I +am going to put him into this book. He laid himself open the other day +to this stroke of revenge, by telling me a story; and since he loves +precision, I will be very precise about the circumstances. + +At the foot of my garden, and hidden from my window by the clipt +box hedge, runs Sanctuary Lane, along which I see the heads of the +villagers moving to church on Sunday mornings. But in returning they +invariably keep to the raised footpath on the far side, that brings +the women's skirts and men's smallclothes into view. I have made many +attempts to discover how this distinction arose, and why it is adhered +to, but never found a satisfying explanation. It is the rule, however. + +From the footpath a high bank (where now the primroses have given +place to stitchwort and ragged robin) rises to an orchard; so steeply +that the apple-blossom drops into the lane. Just now the petals lie +thickly there in the early morning, to be trodden into dust as soon +as the labourers fare to work. Beyond and above the orchard comes a +stretch of pastureland and then a young oak-coppice, the fringe of a +great estate, with a few Scotch firs breaking the sky-line on top of +all. The head gamekeeper of this estate tells me we shall have a hot +summer, because the oak this year was in leaf before the ash, though +only by a day. The ash was foliating on the 29th of April, the oak +on the 28th. Up there the blue-bells lie in sheets of mauve, and the +cuckoo is busy. I rarely see him; but his three notes fill the hot +noon and evening. When he spits (says the gamekeeper again) it is time +to be sheep-shearing. My talk with the gamekeeper is usually held at +six in the morning, when he comes down the lane and I am stepping +across to test the water in Scarlet's Well. + +This well bubbles up under a low vault scooped in the bank by the +footpath and hung with hart's-tongue ferns. It has two founts, close +together; but whereas one of them oozes only, the other is bubbling +perennially, and, as near as I have observed, keeps always the same. +Its specific gravity is that of distilled water--1.000 deg.; and though, +to be sure, it upset me, three weeks back, by flying up to 1.005 deg., I +think that must have come from the heavy thunderstorms and floods of +rain that lately visited us and no doubt imported some ingredients +that had no business there. As for its temperature, I will select a +note or two of the observations I made with a Fahrenheit thermometer +this last year:-- + +_June 12th_.--Temperature in shade of well, 62 deg.; of water, 51 deg.. + +_August 25th_.--In shade of well (at noon), 73 deg.; of water, 52 deg.. + +_November 20th_.--In shade of well, 43 deg.; of water, 52 deg.. + +_January 1st_.--External air, 56 deg.; enclosure, 53 deg.; water, 52 deg.. + +_March 11th_.--A bleak, sunless day. Temperature in shade of well, at +noon, 54 deg.; water, 51 deg.. The _Chrysosplenium Oppositiflorium_ in rich +golden bloom within the enclosure. + +But the spring has other properties besides its steady temperature. I +was early abroad in my garden last Thursday week, and in the act of +tossing a snail over my box hedge, when I heard some girls' voices +giggling, and caught a glimpse of half-a-dozen sun-bonnets gathered +about the well. Straightening myself up, I saw a group of maids +from the village, and, in the middle, one who bent over the water. +Presently she scrambled to her feet, glanced over her shoulder and +gave a shrill scream. + +I, too, looked up the lane and saw, a stone's throw off, the +schoolmaster advancing with long and nervous strides. He was furiously +angry. + +"Thomasine Slade," said he, "you are as shameless as you are +ignorant!" + +The girl tossed her chin and was silent, with a warm blush on her +cheek and a lurking imp of laughter in her eye. The schoolmaster +frowned still more darkly. + +"Shameless as well as ignorant!" he repeated, bringing the ferule of +his umbrella smartly down upon the macadam; "and you, Jane Hewitt, and +you, Lizzie Polkinghorne!" + +"Why, what's the matter?" I asked, stepping out into the road. + +At sight of me the girls broke into a peal of laughter, gathered up +their skirts and fled, still laughing, down the road. + +"What's the matter?" I asked again. + +"The matter?" echoed the schoolmaster, staring blankly after the +retreating skirts; then more angrily--"The matter? come and look +here!" He took hold of my shirt-sleeve and led me to the well. +Stooping, I saw half-a-dozen pins gleaming in its brown depths. + +"A love-charm." + +The schoolmaster nodded. + +"Thomasine Slade has been wishing for a husband. I see no sin in that. +When she looked up and saw you coming down the lane--" + +I paused. The schoolmaster said nothing. He was leaning over the well, +gloomily examining the pins. + +"--your aspect was enough to scare anyone," I wound up lamely. + +"I wish," the schoolmaster hastily began, "I wish to Heaven I had the +gift of humour! I lose my temper and grow positive. I'd kill these +stupid superstitions with ridicule, if I had the gift. It's a great +gift. My God, I do hate to be laughed at!" + +"Even by a fool?" I asked, somewhat astonished at his heat. + +"Certainly. There's no comfort in comparing the laugh of fools with +the crackling of thorns under a pot, if you happen to be inside the +pot and in process of cooking." + +He took off his hat, brushed it on the sleeve of his coat, and resumed +in a tone altogether lighter-- + +"Yes, I hate to be laughed at; and I'll tell you a tale on this point +that may amuse you at my expense. + +"I am London-bred, as you know, and still a Cockney in the grain, +though when I came down here to teach school I was just nineteen and +now I'm over forty. It was during the summer holidays that I first set +foot in this neighbourhood--a week before school re-opened. I came +early, to look for lodgings and find out a little about the people and +settle down a bit before beginning work. + +"The vicar--the late vicar, I mean--commended me to old Retallack, who +used to farm Rosemellin, up the valley, a widower and childless. His +sister, Miss Jane Ann, kept house for him, and these were the only two +souls on the premises till I came and was boarded by them for thirteen +shillings a week. For that price they gave me a bedroom, a fair-sized +sitting-room and as much as I could eat. + +"A month after my arrival, Farmer Retallack was put to bed with a +slight attack of colic. This was on a Wednesday, and on Saturday +morning Miss Jane Ann came knocking at my door with a message that the +old man would like to see me. So I went across to his room and found +him propped up in the bed with three or four pillows and looking very +yellow in the gills, though clearly convalescent. + +"'Schoolmaster,' said he, 'I've a trifling favour to beg of ye. You +give the children a half-holiday, Saturdays--hey? Well, d'ye think ye +could drive the brown hoss, Trumpeter, into Tregarrick this afternoon? +The fact is, my old friend Abe Walters, that kept the Packhorse Inn is +lying dead, and they bury 'en at half after two to-day. I'd be main +glad to show respect at the funeral and tell Mrs. Walters how much +deceased 'll be missed, ancetera; but I might so well try to fly in +the air. Now if you could attend and just pass the word that I'm on my +back with the colic, but that you've come to show respect in my place, +I'd take it very friendly of ye. There'll be lashins o' vittles an' +drink. No Walters was ever interred under a kilderkin.'" Now the fact +was, I had never driven a horse in my life and hardly knew (as they +say) a horse's head from his tail till he began to move. But that is +just the sort of ignorance no young man will readily confess to. So +I answered that I was engaged that evening. We were just organising +night-classes for the young men of the parish, and the vicar was to +open the first, with a short address, at half-past six. + +"'You'll be back in lashins o' time,' the farmer assured me. + +"This put me fairly in a corner. 'To tell you the truth,' said I, 'I'm +not accustomed to drive much.' But of course this was wickedly short +of the truth. + +"He declared that it was impossible to come to grief on the way, the +brown horse being quiet as a lamb and knowing every stone of the road. +And the end was that I consented. The brown horse was harnessed by the +farm-boy and led round with the gig while Miss Jane Ann and I were +finishing our midday meal. And I drove off alone in a black suit and +with my heart in my mouth. + +"Trumpeter, as the farmer had promised, was quiet as a lamb. He went +forward at a steady jog, and even had the good sense to quarter on +his own account for the one or two vehicles we met on the broad road. +Pretty soon I began to experiment gingerly with the reins; and by the +time we reached Tregarrick streets, was handling them with quite an +air, while observing the face of everyone I met, to make sure I +was not being laughed at. The prospect of Tregarrick Fore Street +frightened me a good deal, and there was a sharp corner to turn at the +entrance of the inn-yard. But the old horse knew his business so well +that had I pulled on one rein with all my strength I believe it would +have merely annoyed, without convincing, him. He took me into the yard +without a mistake, and I gave up the reins to the ostler, thanking +Heaven and looking careless. + +"The inn was crowded with mourners, eating and drinking and discussing +the dead man's virtues. They packed the Assembly Room at the back, +where the subscription dances are held, and the reek of hot joints was +suffocating. I caught sight of the widow Walters bustling up and down +between the long tables and shedding tears while she changed her +guests' plates. She heard my message, welcomed me with effusion, and +thrusting a plateful of roast beef under my nose, hurried away to put +on her bonnet for the funeral. + +"A fellow on my right paused with his mouth full to bid me eat. 'Thank +you,' I said, 'my only wish is to get out of this as quickly as +possible.' + +"He contemplated me for half a minute with an eye like an ox's; +remarked 'You'll be a furriner, no doubt;' and went on with his meal. + +"If the feasting was long, the funeral was longer. We sang so many +burying-tunes, and the widow so often interrupted the service to +ululate, that the town clock had struck four when I hurried back from +the churchyard to the inn, and told the ostler to put my horse in the +gig. I had little time to spare. + +"'Beg your pardon, sir,' the ostler said, 'but I'm new to this +place--only came here this day week. Which is your horse?' + +"'Oh,' I answered, 'he's a brown. Make haste, for I'm in a hurry.' + +"He went off to the stables and returned in about two minutes. + +"'There's six brown hosses in the stable, sir. Would you mind coming +and picking out yours?' + +"I followed him with a sense of impending evil. Sure enough there were +six brown horses in the big stable, and to save my life I couldn't +have told which was Trumpeter. Of any difference between horses, +except that of colour, I hadn't an idea. I scanned them all anxiously, +and felt the ostler's eye upon me. This was unbearable. I pulled out +my watch, glanced at it carelessly, and exclaimed-- + +"'By George, I'd no notion it was so early! H'm, on second thoughts, I +won't start for a few minutes yet.' + +"This was my only course--to wait until the other five owners of brown +horses had driven home. I strolled back to the inn and talked and +drank sherry, watching the crowd thin by degrees, and speeding the +lingering mourners with all my prayers. The minutes dragged on till +nothing short of a miracle could take me back in time to open the +night-class. The widow drew near and talked to me. I answered her at +random. + +"Twice I revisited the stable, and the second time found but three +horses left. I walked along behind them, murmuring, 'Trumpeter, +Trumpeter!' in the forlorn hope that one of the three brutes would +give a sign. + +"'I beg your pardon, sir,' said the ostler; 'were you saying +anything?' + +"'No--nothing,' said I, and luckily he was called away at this moment +to the further end of the stable. 'Oh,' sighed I, 'for Xanthus, horse +of Achilles!' + +"I felt inclined to follow and confide my difficulty to the ostler, +but reflected that this wouldn't help me in the least: whereas, if +I applied to a fellow-guest, he must (if indeed he could give the +information) expose my previous hypocrisy to the ostler. After all, +the company was dwindling fast. I went back and consumed more sherry +and biscuits. + +"By this six o'clock had gone, and no more than a dozen guests +remained. One of these was my bovine friend, my neighbour at the +funeral banquet, who now accosted me as I struggled with a biscuit. + +"'So you've got over your hurry. Glad to find ye settlin' down so +quick to our hearty ways.' + +"He shook hands with the widow and sauntered out. Ten more minutes +passed and now there were left only the widow herself and a trio of +elderly men, all silent. As I hung about, trying to look unbounded +sympathy at the group, it dawned upon me that they were beginning to +eye me uneasily. I took a sponge cake and another glass of wine. One +of the men--who wore a high stock and an edging of stiff grey hair +around his bald head--advanced to me. + +"'This funeral,' said he, 'is over.' + +"'Yes, yes,' I stammered, and choked over a sip of sherry. + +"'We are waiting--let me tap you on the back--' + +"'Thank you.' + +"'We are waiting to read the will.' + +"I escaped from the room and rushed down to the stables. The ostler +was harnessing the one brown horse that remained. + +"I was thinking you wouldn't be long, sir. You're the very last, I +believe, and here ends a long day's work.' + +"I drove off. It was near seven by this, but I didn't even think of +the night-class. I was wondering if the horse I drove were really +Trumpeter. Somehow--whether because his feed of corn pricked him or no +I can't say--he seemed a deal livelier than on the outward journey. I +looked at him narrowly in the twilight, and began to feel sure it was +another horse. In spite of the cool air a sweat broke out upon me. + +"Farmer Retallack was up and dressed and leaning on a stick in the +doorway as I turned into the yard. + +"'I've been that worried about ye,' he began, 'I couldn't stay abed. +Parson's been up twice from the schoolhouse to make inquiries. Where +in the name o' goodness have 'ee been?' + +"'That's a long story,' said I, and then, feigning to speak +carelessly, though I heard my heart go thump--'How d'ye think +Trumpeter looks after the journey?' + +"'Oh, _he's_ all right,' the old man replied indifferently; 'but come +along in to supper.' + +"Now, my dear sir"--the schoolmaster thus concluded his tale, +tucking his umbrella tightly under his armpit, and tapping his right +forefinger on the palm of his left hand--"these pagans whom I teach +are as sensitive as I to ridicule. If I only knew how to take them--if +only I could lay my finger on the weak spot--I'd send their whole +fabric of silly superstitions tumbling like a house of cards." + +This happened last Thursday week. Early this morning I crossed the +road as usual with my thermometer, and found a strip of pink calico +hanging from the brambles by the mouth of Scarlet's Well. I had seen +the pattern before on a gown worn by one of the villager's wives, and +knew the rag was a votive offering, hung there because her child, who +has been ailing all the winter, is now strong enough to go out into +the sunshine. As I bent the bramble carefully aside, before stooping +over the water, Lizzie Polkinghorne came up the lane and halted behind +me. + +"Have 'ee heard the news?" she asked. + +"No." I turned round, thermometer in hand. + +"Why, Thomasine Slade's goin' to marry the schoolmaster! Their banns +'ll be called first time nest Sunday." + +We looked at each other, and she broke into a shout of laughter. +Lizzie's laugh is irresistible. + + +II.--SILHOUETTES. + +The small rotund gentleman who had danced and spun all the way to +Gantick village from the extreme south of France, and had danced and +smiled and blown his flageolet all day in Gantick Street without +conciliating its population in the least, was disgusted. Towards dusk +he crossed the stile which divides Sanctuary Lane from the churchyard, +and pausing with a leg on either side of the rail, shook his fist back +at the village which lay below, its grey roofs and red chimneys just +distinguishable here and there between a foamy sea of apple-blossom +and a haze of bluish smoke. He could not well shake its dust off his +feet, for this was hardly separable on his boots from the dust of many +other villages, and also it was mostly mud. But his gesture betokened +extreme rancour. + +"These Cor-rnishmen," he said, "are pigs all! There is not a +Cor-rnishman that is not a big pig!" + +He lifted the second leg wearily over the rail. + +"As for Art--" + +"Words failed him here, and he spat upon the ground, adding-- + +"Moreover, they shut up their churches!" + +This was really a serious matter; for he had not a penny-piece in his +pocket--the last had gone to buy a loaf--and there was no lodging to +be had in the village. The month was April--a bad time to sleep in +the open; and though the night drew in tranquilly upon a day of broad +sunshine, the earth had by no means sucked down the late heavy rains. +The church porch, however, had a broad bench on either side and faced +the south, away from the prevailing wind. He had made a mental note of +this early in the day, being schooled to anticipate such straits as +the present. While, with a gait like a limping hare's, he passed up +the narrow path between the graves, his eyes were busy. + +The churchyard was narrow and surrounded by a high grey wall, mostly +hidden by an inner belt of well-grown cypresses. On the south side the +ranks of these trees were broken for some thirty feet, and here the +back of a small dwelling-house abutted on the cemetery. There was one +window only in the yellow-washed wall, and this window--a melancholy +square framed in moss-stained plaster--looked straight into the church +porch. The flageolet-player eyed it suspiciously; but the casement +was shut and the blind drawn down. The whole aspect of the cottage +proclaimed that its inhabitants were very poor folk--not at all the +sort to tell tales upon a casual tramp if they spied him bivouacking +upon holy ground. + +He limped into the porch, and cast off the blue bag that was strapped +upon his shoulders. Out of it he drew a sheep's-wool cape, worn very +thin; and then turned the bag inside out, on the chance of a forgotten +crust. The disappointment that followed he took calmly--being on the +whole a sweet-tempered man, nor easily angered except by an affront on +his vanity. His violent rancour against the people of Gantick +arose from their indifference to his playing. Had they taken him +seriously--had they even run out at their doors to listen and +stare--he would not have minded their stinginess. + +He who sleeps, sups. The little man passed the flat of his hand, +in the dusk, over the two benches, chose the one which had fewest +asperities of surface, tossed his bag and flageolet upon the other, +pulled off his boots, folded his cape to make a pillow, and stretched +himself at length. In less than ten minutes he was sleeping +dreamlessly. + +For four hours he slept without movement. But just above his head +there hung a baize-covered board containing a list or two of the +parish ratepayers and the usual notice of the spring training of the +Royal Cornwall Eangers Militia. This last placard had broken from two +of its fastenings, and towards midnight flapped loudly in an eddy of +the light wind. The sleeper stirred, and passed a languid hand over +his face. A spider within the porch had been busy while he slept, and +his hand encountered gossamer. + +His eyes opened. He sat upright, and lowered his bare feet upon +the flags. Outside, the blue firmament was full of stars sparkling +unevenly, as though the wind were trying in sport to puff them out. +In the eaves of the porch he could hear the martins rustling in the +crevices--they had returned but a few days back to their old quarters. +But what drew the man to step out under the sky was the cottage-window +over the wall. + +The lattice was pushed back and the room inside was brightly lit. But +between him and the lamp a white sheet had been stretched right across +the window; and on this sheet two quick hands were weaving all kinds +of clever shadows, shaping them, moving them, or reshaping them with +the speed of summer lightning. + +It was certainly a remarkable performance. The shadows took the forms +of rabbits, swans, foxes, elephants, fairies, sailors with wooden +legs, old women who smoked pipes, ballet-girls who pirouetted, anglers +who bobbed for fish, twirling harlequins, and the profiles of eminent +statesmen--all made with two hands and, at the most, the help of a +tiny stick or piece of string. They danced and capered, grew large +and then small, with such profusion of odd turns and changes that the +flageolet-player began to giggle as he wondered. He remarked that the +hands, whenever they were disentwined for a moment, appeared to be +very small and plump. + +In about ten minutes the display ceased, and the shadow of a woman's +head and neck crossed the sheet, which was presently drawn back at one +corner. + +"Is that any better?" asked a woman's voice, low but distinct. + +The flageolet-player started and bent his eyes lower, across the +graves and into the shadow beneath the window. For the first time he +was aware of a figure standing there, a little way out from the wall. +As well as he could see, it was a young boy. + +"Much better, mother. You can't think how you've improved at it this +week." + +"Any mistakes?" + +"The harlequin and columbine seemed a little jerky. But your hands +were tired, I know." + +"Never mind that: they mustn't be tired and it's got to be perfect. +We'll try them again." + +She was about to drop the corner of the sheet when the listener sprang +out towards the window, leaping with bare feet over the graves and +waving his flageolet wildly. + +"Ah, no--no, madame!" he cried. "Wait one moment, the littlest, and I +shall inspire you." + +"Whoever is that?" cried the woman's voice at the window. + +The youth below faced round on the intruder. He was white in the face +and had wanted to run, but mastered his voice and enquired gruffly-- + +"Who the devil are you?" + +"I? I am an artist, and as such I salute madame and monsieur her son. +She is greater artist than I, but I shall help her. They shall dance +better this time, her harlequin and columbine. Why? Because they shall +dance to my music--the music that I shall make here, on this spot, +under the stars. _Tiens!_ I shall play as if possessed. I feel that. I +bet you. It is because I have found an artist--an artist in Gantick. +O-my-good-lor! It makes me expand!" + +He had pulled off his greasy hat, and stood bowing and smiling, +showing his white teeth and holding up his flageolet, that the woman +might see and be convinced. + +"That's all very well," said the boy; "but my mother doesn't want it +known that she practises at these shadows." + +"Ha? It is perhaps forbidden by law?" + +"Since you have found us out, sir," said the woman, "I will tell you +why we are behaving like this, and trust you to tell nobody. I have +been left a widow, in great poverty, and with this one son, who must +be educated as well as his father was. Richard is a promising boy, and +cannot be satisfied to stand lower in the world than his father stood. +His father was an auctioneer. But we are left very poor--poor as mice: +and how was I to get him better teaching than the Board Schools here? +Well, six months ago, when sadly perplexed, I found out by chance that +this small gift of mine might earn me a good income in London, at--at +a music-hall--" + +"Mother!" interjected the youth reprovingly. + +"Pursue, madame," said the flageolet-player. + +"Of course, sir, Richard doesn't like or approve of me performing at +such places, but he agrees with me that it is necessary. So we are +hiding it from everybody in the village, because we have always been +respected here. We never guessed that anybody would see us from the +churchyard, of all places, at this time of night. As soon as I have +practised enough, we mean to travel up to London. Of course I shall +change my name to something French or Italian, and hope nobody will +discover--" + +But the flageolet-player sat suddenly down upon a damp grave, and +broke into hysterical laughter. + +"Oh-oh-oh! Quick, madame! dance your pretty figures while yet I laugh +and before I curse. O stars and planets, look down on this mad world, +and help me play! And, O monsieur, your pardon if I laugh; for that +either you or I are mad is a cock-sure. Dance, madame!" + +He put the flageolet to his lips and blew. In a moment or two +harlequin and columbine appeared on the screen, and began to caper +nimbly, naturally, with the airiest graces. The tune was a jigging +reel, and soon began to inspire the performer above. Her small dancers +in a twinkling turned into a gambolling elephant, then to a pair +of swallows. A moment after they were flower and butterfly, then +a jigging donkey, then harlequin and columbine again. With each +fantastic change the tune quickened and the dance grew wilder. At +length, tired out, the woman spread her hands out wide against the +sheet, as if imploring mercy. + +The player tossed his flageolet over a headstone, and rolled back on +the grave in a paroxysm of laughter. Above him the rooks had poured +out of their nests, and were cawing in flustered circles. + +"Monsieur," he gasped out, sitting up and wiping his eyes, "was it +good this time?" + +"Yes, it was." + +"Then could you spare from the house one little crust of bread? For I +am famished." + +The youth went round the churchyard wall, and came back in a couple of +minutes with some bread and cold bacon. + +"Of course," said he, "if you should meet either of us in the village +to-morrow, you will not recognise us." + +The little man bowed. "I agree," said he, "with your mother, monsieur, +that you must be educated at all costs." + + + + +THE DRAWN BLIND. + + +Silver trumpets sounded a flourish, and the javelin-men came pacing +down Tregarrick Fore Street, with the sheriff's coach swinging behind +them, its panels splendid with fresh blue paint and florid blazonry. +Its wheels were picked out with yellow, and this scheme of colour +extended to the coachman and the two lackeys, who held on at the back +by leathern straps. Each wore a coat and breeches of electric +blue, with a canary waistcoat, and was toned off with powder and +flesh-coloured stockings at the extremities. Within the coach, and +facing the horses, sat the two judges of the Crown Court and _Nisi +Prius_, both in scarlet, with full wigs and little round patches of +black plaister, like ventilators, on top; facing their lordships sat +Sir Felix Felix-Williams, the sheriff, in a tightish uniform of the +yeomanry with a great shako nodding on his knees, and a chaplain bolt +upright by his side. Behind trooped a rabble of loafers and small +boys, who shouted, "Who bleeds bran?" till the lackeys' calves itched +with indignation. + +I was standing in the archway of the Packhorse Inn, among the maids +and stable-boys gathered to see the pageant pass on its way to hear +the Assize sermon. And standing there, I was witness of a little +incident that seemed to escape the rest. + +At the moment when the trumpets rang out, a very old woman, in a blue +camlet cloak, came hobbling out of a grocer's shop some twenty yards +up the pavement, and tottered down ahead of the procession as fast as +her decrepit legs would move. There was no occasion for hurrying to +avoid the crowd; for the javelin-men had barely rounded the corner +of the long street, and were taking the goosestep very seriously +and deliberately. But she went by the Packhorse doorway as if swift +horsemen were after her, clutching the camlet cloak across her bosom, +glancing over her shoulder, and working her lips inaudibly. I could +not help remarking the position of her right arm. She held it bent +exactly as though she held an infant to her old breast, and shielded +it while she ran. + +A few paces beyond the inn-door she halted on the edge of the kerb, +flung another look up the street, and darted across the roadway. There +stood a little shop--a watchmaker's--just opposite, and next to the +shop a small ope with one dingy window over it. She vanished up the +passage, at the entrance of which I was still staring idly, when, half +a minute later, a skinny trembling hand appeared at the window and +drew down the blind. + +I looked round at the men and maids; but their eyes were all for the +pageant, now not a stone's-throw away. + +"Who is that old woman?" I asked, touching Caleb, the head ostler, on +the shoulder. + +Caleb--a small bandy-legged man, with a chin full of furrows, and the +furrows full of grey stubble--withdrew his gaze grudgingly from the +sheriff's coach. + +"What woman?" + +"She that went by a moment since." + +"She in the blue cloak, d'ee mean?--an old, ancient, wisht-lookin' +body?" + +"Yes." + +"A timmersome woman, like?" + +"That's it." + +"Well, her name's Cordely Pinsent." + +The procession reclaimed his attention. He received a passing wink +from the charioteer, caught it on the volley and returned it with a +solemn face; or rather, the wink seemed to rebound as from a blank +wall. As the crowd closed in upon the circumstance of Justice, he +turned to me again, spat, and went on-- + +"--Cordely Pinsent, widow of old Key Pinsent, that was tailor to +all the grandees in the county so far back as I can mind. She's +eighty-odd; eighty-five if a day. I can just mind Key Pinsent--a +great, red, rory-cumtory chap, with a high stock and a wig like King +George--'my royal patron' he called 'en, havin' by some means got +leave to hoist the king's arms over his door. Such mighty portly +manners, too--Oh, very spacious, I assure 'ee! Simme I can see the old +Trojan now, with his white weskit bulgin' out across his doorway like +a shop-front hung wi' jewels. Gout killed 'en. I went to his buryin'; +such a stretch of experience does a young man get by time he reaches +my age. God bless your heart alive, _I_ can mind when they were hung +for forgery!" + +"Who were hung?" + +"People," he answered vaguely; "and young Willie Pinsent." + +"This woman's son?" + +"Ay, her son--her ewe-lamb of a child. 'Tis very seldom brought up +agen her now, poor soul! She's so very old that folks forgits about +it. Do 'ee see her window yonder, over the ope?" + +He was pointing across to the soiled white blind that still looked +blankly over the street, its lower edge caught up at one corner by a +dusty geranium. + +"I saw her pull it down." + +"Ah, you would if you was lookin' that way. I've a-seed her do 't a +score o' times. Well, when the gout reached Key Pinsent's stomach and +he went off like the snuff of a candle at the age of forty-two, she +was left unprovided, with a son of thirteen to maintain or go 'pon the +parish. She was a Menhennick, tho', from t'other side o' the Duchy--a +very proud family--and didn't mean to dip the knee to nobody, and all +the less because she'd demeaned hersel', to start with, by wedding a +tailor. But Key Pinsent by all allowance was handsome as blazes, and +well-informed up to a point that he read Shakespeare for the mere +pleasure o't. + +"Well, she sold up the stock-in-trade an' hired a couple o' rooms--the +self-same rooms you see: and then she ate less 'n a mouse an' took in +needle-work, plain an' fancy: for a lot o' the gentry's wives round +the neighbourhood befriended her--though they had to be sly an' hide +that they meant it for a favour, or she'd ha' snapped their heads off. +An' all the while, she was teachin' her boy and tellin' 'en, whatever +happened, to remember he was a gentleman, an' lovin' 'en with all the +strength of a desolate woman. + +"This Willie Pinsent was a comely boy, too: handsome as old Key, an' +quick at his books. He'd a bold masterful way, bein' proud as ever his +mother was, an' well knowin' there wasn' his match in Tregarrick for +head-work. Such a beautiful hand he wrote! When he was barely turned +sixteen they gave 'en a place in Gregory's Bank--Wilkins an' Gregory +it was in those aged times. He still lived home wi' his mother, +rentin' a room extra out of his earnin's, and turnin' one of the +bedrooms into a parlour. That's the very room you're lookin' at. And +when any father in Tregarrick had a bone to pick with his sons, he'd +advise 'em to take example by young Pinsent--'so clever and good, too, +there was no tellin' what he mightn't come to in time.' + +"Well-a-well, to cut it short, the lad was too clever. It came out, +after, that he'd took to bettin' his employers' money agen the rich +men up at the Royal Exchange. An' the upshot was that one evenin', +while he was drinkin' tea with his mother in his lovin' light-hearted +way, in walks a brace o' constables, an' says, 'William Pinsent, +young chap, I arrest thee upon a charge o' counterfeitin' old +Gregory's handwritin', which is a hangin' matter!' + +"An' now, sir, comes the cur'ous part o' the tale; for, if you'll +believe me, this poor woman wouldn' listen to it--wouldn' hear a word +o't. 'What! my son Willie,' she flames, hot as Lucifer--'my son Willie +a forger! My boy, that I've missed, an' reared up, an' studied, +markin' all his pretty takin' ways since he learn'd to crawl! +Gentlemen,' she says, standin' up an' facin' 'em down, 'what mother +knows her son, if not I? I give you my word it's all a mistake.' + +"Ay, an' she would have it no other. While her son was waitin' his +trial in jail, she walked the streets with her head high, scornin' the +folk as she passed. Not a soul dared to speak pity; an' one afternoon, +when old Gregory hissel' met her and began to mumble that 'he +trusted,' an' 'he had little doubt,' an' 'nobody would be gladder than +he if it proved to be a mistake,' she held her skirt aside an' went by +with a look that turned 'en to dirt, as he said. 'Gad!' said he, 'she +couldn' ha' looked at me worse if I'd been a tab!' meanin' to say +'instead o' the richest man in Tregarrick.' + +"But her greatest freak was seen when th' Assizes came. Sir, she +wouldn' even go to the trial. She disdained it. An' when, that +mornin', the judges had driven by her window, same as they drove +to-day, what d'ee think she did? + +"She began to lay the cloth up in the parlour yonder, an' there set +out the rarest meal, ready for her boy. There was meats, roasted +chickens, an' a tongue, an' a great ham. There was cheese-cakes that +she made after a little secret of her own; an' a bowl of junket, +an inch deep in cream, that bein' his pet dish; an' all kind o' +knick-knacks, wi' grapes an' peaches, an' apricots, an' decanters o' +wine, white an' red. Ay, sir, there was even crackers for mother an' +son to pull together, with scraps o' poetry inside. An' flowers--the +table was bloomin' with flowers. For weeks she'd been plannin' it: an' +all the forenoon she moved about an' around that table, givin' it +a touch here an' a touch there, an' takin' a step back to see how +beautiful it looked. An' then, as the day wore on, she pulled a chair +over by the window, an' sat down, an' waited. + +"In those days a capital trial was kept up till late into the night, +if need were. By-an'-by she called up her little servin' gal that was +then (she's a gran'mother now), an' sends her down to the court-house +to learn how far the trial had got, an' run back with the news. + +"Down runs Selina Mary, an' back with word-- + +"'They're a-summin'-up,' says she. + +"Then Mrs. Pinsent went an' lit eight candles. Four she set 'pon the +table, an' four 'pon the mantel-shelf. You could see the blaze out +in the street, an' the room lit up, wi' the flowers, an' fruit, an' +shinin' glasses--red and yellow dahlias the flowers were, that bein' +the time o' year. An' over each candle she put a little red silk +shade. You never saw a place look cosier. Then she went back an' +waited: but in half-an-hour calls to Selina Mary agen: + +"'Selina Mary, run you back to the courthouse, an' bring word how far +they've got.' + +"So the little slip of a maid ran back, and this time 'twas-- + +"'Missis, the judge has done; an' now they're considerin' about Master +Willie.' + +"So the poor woman sat a while longer, an' then she calls: + +"'Selina Mary, run down agen, an' as he comes out, tell 'en to hurry. +They must be finished by now.' + +"The maid was gone twenty minutes this time. The evenin' was hot an' +the window open; an' now all the town that wasn' listenin' to the +trial was gathered in front, gazin' cur'ously at the woman inside. She +was tittivatin' the table for the fiftieth time, an' touchin' up the +flowers that had drooped a bit i' the bowls. + +"But after twenty minutes Selina Mary came runnin' up the street, an' +fetched her breath at the front door, and went upstairs slowly and +'pon tip-toe. Her face at the parlour door was white as paper; an' +while she stood there the voices o' the crowd outside began to take +all one tone, and beat into the room like the sound o' waves 'pon a +beach. + +"'Oh, missis--' she begins. + +"'Have they finished?' + +"The poor cheald was only able to nod. + +"'Then, where's Willie? Why isn't he here?' + +"'Oh, missis, they're goin' to hang 'en!' + +"Mrs. Pinsent moved across the room, took her by the arm, led her +downstairs, an' gave her a little push out into the street. Not a word +did she say, but shut the door 'pon her, very gentle-like. Then she +went back an' pulled the blind down slowly. The crowd outside watched +her do it. Her manner was quite ord'nary. They stood there for a +minute or so, an' behind the blind the eight candles went out, one by +one. By the time the judges passed homeward 'twas all dark, only the +blind showin' white by the street lamp opposite. From that year to +this she has pulled it down whenever a judge drives by." + + + + +A GOLDEN WEDDING. + + +On the very spot which the railway station has usurped, with its long +slate roof, wooden signal-box, and advertisements in blue and white +enamel, I can recall a still pool shining between beds of the +flowering rush; and to this day, as I wait for the train, the whir of +a vanished water-wheel comes up the valley. Sometimes I have caught +myself gazing along the curve of the narrow-gauge in full expectation +to see a sagged and lichen-covered roof at the end of it. And +sometimes, of late, it has occurred to me that there never was such a +mill as I used to know down yonder; and that the miller, whose coat +was always powdered so fragrantly, was but a white ghost, after all. +The station-master and porters remember no such person. + +But he was no ghost; for I have met him again this week, and upon the +station platform. I had started at daybreak to fish up the stream +that runs down the valley in curves roughly parallel to the railway +embankment; and coming within sight of the station, a little before +noon, I put up my tackle and strolled towards the booking-office. The +water was much too fine for sport, and it seemed worth while to break +off for a pipe and a look at the 12.26 train. Such are the simple +pleasures of a country life. + +I leant my rod against the wall, and was setting down my creel, when, +glancing down the platform, I saw an old man seated on the furthest +bench. Everybody knows how a passing event, or impression, sometimes +appears but a vain echo of previous experience. Something in the lines +of this old man's figure, as he leaned forward with both hands clasped +upon his staff, gave me the sensation. "All this has happened before," +I told myself. "He and I are playing over again some small and futile +scene in our past lives. I wonder who he is, and what is the use of +it?" + +But there was something wanting in the picture to complete its +resemblance to the scene for which I searched my memory. + +The man had bent further forward, and was resting his chin on his +hands and staring apathetically across the rails. Suddenly it dawned +on me that there ought to be another figure on the bench--the figure +of an old woman; and my memory ran back to the day after this railway +was opened, when this man and his wife had sat together on the +platform waiting to see the train come in--that fascinating monster +whose advent had blotted out the very foundations of the old mill and +driven its tenants to a strange home. + +The mill had disappeared many months before that, but the white dust +still hung in the creases of the miller's clothes. He wore his Sunday +hat and the Sunday polish on his shoes; and his wife was arrayed in +her best Paisley shawl. She carried also a bunch of cottage flowers, +withering in her large hot hand. It was clear they had never seen a +locomotive before, and wished to show it all respect. They had taken +a smaller house in the next valley, where they attempted to live on +their savings; and had been trying vainly and pitifully to struggle +with all the little habits that had been their life for thirty-five +years, and to adapt them to new quarters. Their faces were weary, +but flushed with expectation. The man kept looking up the line, and +declaring that he heard the rumble of the engine in the distance; and +whenever he said this, his wife pulled the shawl more primly about her +shoulders, straightened her back, and nervously re-arranged her posy. + +When at length the whistle screamed out, at the head of the vale, I +thought they were going to tumble off the bench. The woman went white +to the lips, and stole her disengaged hand into her husband's. + +"Startlin' at first, hey?" he said, bravely winning back his +composure: "but 'tis wunnerful what control the driver has, they tell +me. They only employ the cleverest men--" + +A rattle and roar drowned the rest of his words, and he blinked and +leant back, holding the woman's hand and tapping it softly as the +engine rushed down with a blast of white vapour hissing under its fore +wheels, and the carriages clanked upon each other, and the whole train +came to a standstill before us. + +The station-master and porter walked down the line of carriages, +bawling out the name of the station. The driver leaned out over his +rail, and the guard, standing by the door of his van, with a green +flag under his arm, looked enquiringly at me and at the old couple on +the bench. But I had only strolled up to have a look at the new train, +and meant to resume my fishing as soon as it had passed. And the +miller sat still, holding his wife's hand. + +They were staring with all their eyes--not resentfully, though face to +face with the enemy that had laid waste their habitation and swept all +comfort out of their lives; but with a simple awe. Manifestly, too, +they expected something more to happen. I saw the old woman searching +the incurious features of the few passengers, and I thought her own +features expressed some disappointment. + +"This," observed the guard scornfully, pulling out his watch as he +spoke, "is what you call traffic in these parts." + +The station-master was abashed, and forced a deprecatory laugh. The +guard--who was an up-country man--treated this laugh with contempt, +and blew his whistle sharply. The driver answered, and the train moved +on. + +I was gazing after it when a woeful exclamation drew my attention back +to the bench. + +"Why, 'tis gone!" + +"Gone?" echoed the miller's wife. "Of course 'tis gone; and of all the +dilly-dallyin' men, I must say, John, you'm the dilly-dalliest. Why +didn' you say we wanted to ride?" + +"I thought, maybe, they'd have axed us. 'Twouldn' ha' been polite to +thrust oursel's forrard if they didn' want our company. Besides, I +thought they'd be here for a brave while--" + +"You was always a man of excuses. You knew I'd set my heart 'pon this +feat." + +I had left them to patch up their little quarrel. But the scene stuck +in my memory, and now, as I walked down the platform towards the +single figure on the bench, I wondered, amusedly, if the woman had at +length taken the ride alone, and if the procrastinating husband sat +here to welcome her back. + +As I drew near, I took note of his clothes for the first time. +There was no white dust in the creases to-day. In fact, he wore the +workhouse suit. + +I sat down beside him, and asked if he remembered a certain small boy +who had used to draw dace out of his mill-pond. With some difficulty +he recalled my features, and by decrees let out the story of his life +during the last ten years. + +He and his wife had fought along in their new house, hiding their +discomfort from each other, and abiding the slow degrees by which +their dwelling should change into a home. But before that change was +worked, the woman fell under a paralytic stroke, and their savings, on +which they had just contrived to live, threatened to be swallowed up +by the doctor's bill. After considering long, the miller wrote off to +his only son, a mechanic in the Plymouth Dockyard, and explained the +case. This son was a man of forty or thereabouts, was married, and had +a long family. He could not afford to take the invalid into his house +for nothing; but his daughters would look after their grandmother and +she should have good medical care as well, if she came on a small +allowance. + +"So the only thing to be done, sir, was for my old woman to go." + +"And you--?" + +"Oh, I went into the 'House.' You see, there wasn' enough for both, +livin' apart." + +I stared down the line to the spot where the mill-wheel had hummed +so pleasantly, and the compassionate sentence I was about to utter +withered up and died on my lips. + +"But to-day--Oh, to-day, sir--" + +"What's happening to-day?" + +"She's comin' down to see me for an hour or two; an' I've got a +holiday to meet her. 'Tis our Golden Weddin', sir." + +"But why are you meeting her at this station instead of Tregarrick? +She can't walk, and you have no horse and trap; whereas there's always +a 'bus at Tregarrick." + +"Well, you see, sir, there's a very tidy little cottage below where +they sell ginger-beer, an' I've got a whack o' vittles in the basket +here, besides what William is bringin'--William an' his wife are +comin' down with her. They'll take her back by the last train up; an' +I thought, as 'twas so little a while, an' the benches here are so +comfortable, we'd pass our day 'pon the platform here. 'Tis within +sight o' the old home, too, or ruther o' the spot where the old home +used to be: an' though 'tis little notice she seems to take o' things, +one never can tell if poor creatures in that state _hain't_ pleased +behind all their dazed looks. What do you think, sir?" + +The whistle sounded up the valley, and mercifully prevented my answer. +I saw the woman for an instant as she was brought out of the train and +carried to the bench. She did not recognise the man she had married +fifty years before: but as we moved out of the station, he was sitting +beside her, his face transfigured with a solemn joy. + + + + +SCHOOL FRIENDS. + + +"What ho, there!" + +At this feudal summons I turned, and spied the Bashaw elbowing his way +towards me through the Fleet Street crowd, his hat and tie askew and +his big face a red beacon of goodwill. He fell on my neck, and we +embraced. + +"Is me recreant child returned? Is he tired at last av annihilatin' +all that's made to a green thought in a green shade? An' did he +homesickun by the Cornish Coast for the Street that Niver Sleeps, +an' the whirroo an' stink av her, an' the _foomum et opase +strepitumke_--to drink delight av battle with his peers, an' see the +great Achilles whom he knew--meanin' meself?" The Bashaw's style in +conversation, as in print, bristles with allusion. + +I shook my head. + +"I go back to-morrow, I hope. Business brought me up, and as soon as +it's settled I pack." + +"Too quick despairer--but I take it ye'll be bound just now for the +Cheese. Right y'are; and I'll do meself the honour to lunch wid ye, at +your expense." + +Everyone knows and loves the Bashaw, _alias_ the O'Driscoll, that +genial failure. Generations of Fleet Street youths have taken advice +and help from him: have prospered, grown reputable, rich, and even +famous: and have left him where he stood. Nobody can remember the time +when O'Driscoll was not; though, to judge from his appearance, he must +have stepped upon the town from between the covers of an illustrated +keepsake, such as our grandmothers loved--so closely he resembles the +Corsair of that period, with his ripe cheeks, melting eyes, and black +curls that twist like the young tendrils of a vine. The curls are +dyed now-a-days, and his waist is not what it used to be in the +picture-books; but time has worn nothing off his temper. He is +perennially enthusiastic, and can still beat any journalist in London +in describing a Lord Mayor's Show. + +"You behould in me," he went on, with a large hand on my shoulder, +"the victum av a recent eviction--a penniless outcast. 'Tis no +beggar's petition that I'll be profferin', however, but a bargun. Give +me a salad, a pint av hock, an' fill me pipe wid the Only Mixture, +an' I'll repay ye across the board wid a narrative--the sort av +God-forsaken, ord'nary thrifle that you youngsters turn into copy--may +ye find forgiveness! 'Tis no use to me whatever. Ted O'Driscoll's +instrument was iver the big drum, and he knows his limuts." + +"Yes, me boy," he resumed, five minutes later, as he sat in the +Cheshire Cheese, beneath Dr. Johnson's portrait, balancing a +black-handled knife between his first and second fingers, and nodding +good-fellowship to every journalist in the room, "the apartment in +Bloomsbury is desolut; the furnichur'--what was lift av ut--disparsed; +the leopard an' the lizard keep the courts where O'Driscoll gloried +an' drank deep; an' the wild ass--meanin' by that the midical student +on the fourth floor--stamps overhead, but cannot break his sleep. I've +been evicted: that's the long and short av ut. Lord help me!--I'd have +fared no worse in the ould country--here's to her! Think what immortal +copy I'd have made out av the regrettable incident over there!" His +voice broke, but not for self-pity. It always broke when he mentioned +Ireland. + +"Is it comfort ye'd be speakin'?" he began again, filling his glass. +"Me dear fellow, divvle a doubt I'll fetch round tight an' safe. Ould +Mick Sullivan--he that built the _Wild Girl_, the fastest vessel that +iver put out av Limerick--ould Mick Sullivan used to swear he'd make +any ship seaworthy that didn' leak worse than a five-barred gate. An' +that's me, more or less. I'm an ould campaigner. But listen to this. +Me feelin's have been wrung this day, and that sorely. I promised ye +the story, an' I must out wid ut, whether or no." + +It was the hour when the benches of the Cheese begin to empty. My work +was over for the day, and I disposed myself to listen. + +"The first half I spent at the acadimy where they flagellated the +rudiments av polite learnin' into me small carcuss, I made a friend. +He was the first I iver made, though not the last, glory be to God! +But first friendship is like first love for the sweet taste it puts in +the mouth. Niver but once in his life will a man's heart dance to that +chune. 'Twas a small slip of a Saxon lad that it danced for then: a +son av a cursed agint, that I should say it. But sorra a thought had I +for the small boccawn's nationality nor for his own father's trade. +I only knew the friendship in his pretty eyes an' the sweetness that +knit our two sowls togither, like David's an' Jonathan's. Pretty it +was to walk togither, an' discourse, an' get the strap togither for +heaven knows what mischief, an' consowl each other for our broken +skins. He'd a wonderful gift at his books, for which I reverenced um, +and at the single-stick, for which I loved um. Niver to this day did +I call up the ould play-ground widout behowldin' that one boy, though +all the rest av the faces (the master's included) were vague as +wather--wather in which that one pair av eyes was reflected. + +"The school was a great four-square stone buildin' beside a windy +road, and niver a tree in sight; but pastures where the grass would +cut your boot, an' stone walls, an' brown hills around, like the rim +av a saucer. All belonged to the estate that Jemmy Nichol's father +managed--a bankrupt property, or next door to that. It's done better +since he gave up the place; but when I've taken a glance at the +landscape since (as I have, once or twice) I see no difference. To me +'tis the naked land I looked upon the last day av the summer half, +when I said good-bye to Jemmy; for he was lavin' the school that same +afternoon for Dublin, to cross over to England wid his father. + +"Sick at heart was I, an' filled already wid the heavy sense of +solitariness, as we stood by the great iron gate wishin' one another +fare-ye-well. + +"'Jemmy avick,' says I, 'dull, dull will it be widout ye here. And, +Jemmy--send some av my heart back to me when ye write, as ye promise +to do.' + +"'Wheniver I lay me down, Ned,' he answered me (though by nature a +close-hearted English boy), 'I'll think o' ye; an' wheniver I rise up +I'll think o' ye. May the Lord do so to me, an' more also, if I cease +from lovin' ye till my life's end.' + +"So we kissed like a pair av girls, and off he was driven, leavin' a +great hollow inside the rim av the hills. An' I ran up to the windy +dormitory, stumblin' at ivery third step for the blindin' tears, and +watched um from the window there growin' small along the road. 'Ye +Mountains av Gilboa,' said I, shakin' my fist at the hills, 'let there +be no dew, neither let there be rain upon ye;' for I hated the place +now that Jemmy was gone. + +"Well, 'twas the ould story--letters at first in plenty, then fewer, +then none at all. Long before I came over to try my luck I'd lost all +news of Jem: didn't know his address, even. Nor till to-day have I set +eyes on um. He's bald-headed, me boy, and crooked-faytured, to-day; +but I knew him for Jemmy in the first kick av surprise. + +"I was evicted this mornin', as I've towld ye. Six years I've hung me +hat up in those same apartments in Bloomsbury; and, till last year, +aisy enough I found me landlord over a quarter's rent or two overjue. +But last midsummer year the house changed hands; and bedad it began to +be 'pay or quit.' This day it was 'quit.' The new landlord came up the +stairs at the head av the ejectin' army: I got up from breakfast to +open the door to um. I'd never set eyes on um since I'd been his +tenant. Bedad, it was Jemmy!" + +O'Driscoll paused, and poured himself another glass of hock. + +"So I suppose," I said, "you ran into each other's arms, and kissed +again with tears?" + +"Then you suppose wrong," said he, and sat for a moment or two silent, +fingering the stem of his glass. Then he added, more gently-- + +"I looked in the face av um, and said to meself, 'Jemmy doesn't +remember me. If I introduce meself, I wonder what'll he do? Will he +love me still, or will he turn me out?' An' by the Lord I didn't care +to risk ut! I couldn't dare to lose that last illusion; an' so I put +on me hat an' walked out, tellin' him nothing at all." + + + + +PARENTS AND CHILDREN. + + +I.--THE FAMILY BIBLE + +There lived a young man at Tregarrick called Robert Haydon. His father +was not a native of the town, but had settled there early in life and +became the leading solicitor of the place. At the age of thirty-seven +he married the daughter of a county magistrate, and by this step +bettered his position considerably. By the time that Robert was born +his parents' standing was very satisfactory. They were living well +inside an income of L1,200 a year, had about L8,000 (consisting +of Mrs. Haydon's dowry and Mr. Haydon's bachelor savings) safely +invested, and were on visiting terms with several of the lesser county +families. + +In other respects they were just as fortunate. They had a sincere +affection for each other, and coincident opinions on the proper +conduct of life. They were people into whose heads a misgiving seldom +or never penetrated. Their religious beliefs and the path of social +duty stood as plain before them as their front gate and as narrow as +the bridge which Mohammedans construct over hell. They loved Bob--who +of four children was their only son--and firmly intended to do their +best for him; and as they knew what was best for him, it followed +that Bob must conform. He was a light-coloured, docile boy, with a +pleasantly ingenuous face and an affectionate disposition; and he +loved his parents, and learned to lean on them. + +They sent him in time to Marlborough, where he wrote Latin verses of +slightly unusual merit, and bowled with a break from the off which +meant that there lay a thin vein of genius somewhere inside of him. +When once collared, his bowling became futile; success made it deadly, +and on one occasion in a school match against the M.C.C. he did things +at Lord's which caused a thin gathering of spectators--the elderly +men who never miss a match--to stare at him very attentively as he +returned to the pavilion. They thought it worth while to ask, "Which +'Varsity was he bound for?" + +Bob was bound for neither. He had to inherit, and consented to +inherit, his father's practice without question. His consuming desire +to go up to Oxford he hinted at once, and once only, in a conversation +with his father; but Mr. Haydon "did not care to expose his son to the +temptations which beset young men at the Universities"--this was +the very text--and preferred to keep him under his own eye in the +seclusion of Tregarrick. + +To a young man who is being shielded from temptation in a small +provincial town there usually happens one of two things. Either he +takes to drink or to discreditable essays in love-making. It is to +Bob's credit that he did neither; a certain delicate sanity in the +fellow kept him from these methods of killing time. Instead, he spent +his evenings at home; listened to his parents' talk; accepted their +opinions on human conduct and affairs; and tumbled honourably into +love with his sisters' governess. + +Ethel Ormiston, the governess, was about a year older than Bob, good +to look at, and the only being who understood what ailed Bob's soul +during this time. She was in prison herself, poor woman. Mrs. Haydon +asserted afterwards that Miss Ormiston had "deliberately set herself +to inveigle" the boy; but herein Mrs. Haydon was mistaken. As a matter +of fact Bob, having discovered someone obliging and intelligent enough +to listen, dinned the story of his aspirations into the girl's ear +with the persistent egoism of a hobbedehoy. It must be allowed, +however, that the counsel she gave him would have annoyed his parents +excessively. + +"But I do sympathise with you," she said after listening to an +immoderately long and peevish harangue; "and I should advise you to +go to your father, as a first step, and ask to be paid a very small +salary for the work you do--enough to set up in lodgings alone. At +present you are pauperising yourself." + +Bob did not quite understand--so she explained: + +"You are twenty-one, and still receiving food and lodging from your +parents as a dole. At your age, if a man receives anything at all from +father or mother, he should be earning it as a right." + +She spoke impatiently, and longed to add that he was also +impoverishing his intellect. She felt a touch of contempt for him; but +a touch of contempt may go with love, and, indeed, competent observers +have held that this mixture makes the very finest cement. Certain it +is that when Bob answered pathetically, "But I don't want to leave +this roof, I--I _can't_, Miss Ormiston, you know!" she missed her +opportunity of pointing out that this confession stultified every one +of his previous utterances. She began a sentence, indeed, but broke +off, with her grey eyes fixed on the ground; and when at length she +lifted them, Bob felt something take him by the throat. The few +words he proceeded to blurt out stunned him much as if a grenade had +exploded close at hand. But when Miss Ormiston burst into tears and +declared she must go upstairs at once and pack her box, he recovered, +and, looking about, found the aspect of the world bewilderingly +changed. There were valleys where hills had stood a moment before. + +"I'll go at once and tell my father," he said, drawing a full breath +and looking like the man he was for the moment. + +"And," sobbed Miss Ormiston, "I'll go at once and pack my box." + +Herein she showed foresight, for as soon as Bob's interview with his +father was over, she was commanded to leave the premises in time to +catch the early train next morning. + +Then the Haydon family sat down and talked to Bob. + +They began by pooh-poohing the affair. Then, inconsequently, they +talked of disgrace, and of scratching his name out of the Family +Bible, and said they would rather follow him to his grave than see him +married to Miss Ormiston. Lastly, Mrs. Haydon asked Bob who had nursed +him, and taught him to walk, and read and know virtue when he saw it. +Bob, in the words of the poet, replied, "My mother." "Very well then," +said Mrs. Haydon. + +After forty-eight hours of this Bob wrote to Miss Ormiston, saying, +"My father's indignation is natural, and can only be conquered by +time. But I love you always." + +Miss Ormiston replied, "Your father's indignation is natural, perhaps. +But if you love me, it might be conquered by something else," or words +to that effect. At any rate, her letter implied that as it was Bob, +and not his father, who proposed to make her a wife, it was on Bob, +and not on his father, that she laid the responsibility of fulfilling +the promise. + +But Bob was weak as water. Love had given him one brief glimpse of the +real world: then his father and mother began to talk, and the covers +of the Family Bible closed like gates upon his prospect. At the end +of a week he wrote--"Nothing shall shake me, dear Ethel. Still, some +consideration is due to them; for I am their only son." + +To this Ethel Ormiston sent no answer; but reflected "And what +consideration is due to me? for you are my only lover." + +For a while Bob thought of enlisting, and then of earning an honest +wage as a farm-labourer; but rejected both notions, because his +training had not taught him that independence is better than +respectability--yea, than much broadcloth. It was not that he hankered +after the fleshpots, but that he had no conception of a world without +fleshpots. In the end his father came to him and said-- + +"Will you give up this girl?" + +And Bob answered-- + +"I'm sorry, father, but I can't." + +"Very well. Rather than see this shame brought on the family, I will +send you out to Australia. I have written to my friend Morris, at +Ballawag, New South Wales, three hundred miles from Sydney, and he is +ready to take you into his office. You have broken my heart and your +mother's, and you must go." + +And Bob--this man of twenty-one or more--obeyed his father in this, +and went. I can almost forgive him, knowing how the filial habit +blinds a man. But I cannot forgive the letter he wrote to Miss +Ormiston--whom he wished to make his wife, please remember. +Nevertheless she forgave him. She had found another situation, and was +working on. Her parents were dead. + +Five years passed, and Bob's mother died--twelve years, and his father +died also, leaving him the lion's share of the money. During this time +Bob had worked away at Ballawag and earned enough to set up as lawyer +on his own account. But because a man cannot play fast and loose with +the self-will that God gave him and afterwards expect to do much +in the world, he was a moderately unsuccessful man still when the +inheritance dropped in. It gave him a fair income for life. When the +letter containing the news reached him, he left the office, walked +back to his house, and began to think. Then he unlocked his safe and +took out Ethel Ormiston's letters. They made no great heap; for of +late their correspondence had dwindled to an annual exchange of +good wishes at Christmas. She was still earning her livelihood as a +governess. + +Bob thought for a week, and then wrote. He asked Ethel Ormiston to +come out and be his wife. You will observe that the old curse still +lay on him. A man--even a poor one--that was worth kicking would have +gone and fetched her; and Bob had plenty of money. But he asked her to +come out and begged her to cable "Yes" or "No." + +She cabled "Yes." She would start within the month from Plymouth, in +the sailing-ship _Grimaldi_. She chose a sailing-ship because it was +cheaper. + +So Bob travelled down to Sydney to welcome his bride. He stepped on +the _Grimaldi's_ deck within five minutes of her arrival, and asked +if a Miss Ormiston were on board. There advanced a middle-aged woman, +gaunt, wrinkled and unlovely--not the woman he had chosen, but the +woman he had made. + +"Ethel?" was all he found to say. + +"Yes, Bob; I am Ethel. And God forgive you." + +Of the change in him she said nothing; but held out her hand with a +smile. + +"Marry me, Bob, or send me back: I give you leave to do either, and +advise you to send me back. Twelve years ago you might have been proud +of me, and so I might have helped you. As it is, I have travelled far, +and am tired. I can never help you now." + +And though he married her, she never did. + + +II.--BOANERGES. + +"Bill Penberthy's come back, I hear." + +The tin-smith was sharpening his pocket-knife on the parapet of the +bridge, and, without troubling to lift his eyes, threw just enough +interrogation into the remark to show that he meant it to lead to +conversation. Every one of the dozen men around him held a knife, so +that a stranger, crossing the bridge, might have suspected a popular +rising in the village. But, as a matter of fact, they were merely +waiting for their turn. There is in the parapet one stone upon which +knives may be sharpened to an incomparable edge; and, for longer +than I can remember, this has supplied the men of Gantick with the +necessary excuse for putting their heads together on fine evenings and +discussing the news. + +"Ay, he's back." + +"Losh, Uncle, I'd no idea you was there," said the tin-smith, wheeling +round. "And how's your lad looking?" + +"Tolerable--tolerable. 'A's got a black suit, my sonnies, and a white +tie, and a soft hat that looks large on the head, but can be folded +and stowed in your tail pocket." Complacency shone over the speaker's +shrivelled cheeks, and beamed from his horn-spectacles. "You can tell +'en at a glance for a Circuit-man and no common Rounder." + +"'A's fully knowledgeable by all accounts; learnt out, they tell me." + +"You shall hear 'en for yourselves at meeting to-morrow. He conducts +both services. Now don't tempt me any more, that's good souls: for +when he'd no sooner set foot in th' house and kissed his mother than +he had us all down on our knees giving hearty thanks in the most +beautiful language, I said to myself, 'many's the time I've had two +minds about the money spent in making ye a better man than your +father;' but fare thee well, doubt! I don't begrudge it, an' there's +an end." + +A small girl came running down the street to the bridge-end. + +"Uncle Penberthy," she panted, "your tall son--Mr. William--said I +was to run down and fetch 'ee home at once." + +"Nothin' wrong with 'en, I hope?" + +"I think he's going to hold a prayer." + +The little man looked at the blade of his knife for a moment, half +regretfully: then briskly clasped it, slipped it into his pocket, and +hobbled away after the messenger. + +The whitewashed front of the Meeting House was bathed, next evening, +with soft sunset yellow when Mr. Penberthy the elder stole down +the stairs between the exhortations, as his custom was, and stood +bareheaded in the doorway respiring the cool air. As a deacon he +temperately used the privileges of his office, and one of these was +a seat next the door. The Meeting House was really no more than a +room--a long upper chamber over a store; and its stairway descended +into the street so sharply that it was possible, even for a +short-armed man, to sit on the lowest step and shake hands with a +friend in the street. + +The roadway was deserted for a while. Across the atmosphere there +reigned that hush which people wonder at on Sundays, forgetting that +nature is always still and that nine-tenths of the week's hubbub is +made by man. Down the pale sky came a swallow, with another in chase: +their wings were motionless as they swept past the doorway, but the +air whizzed with the speed of their flight, and in a moment was silent +again. Then from the upper room a man's voice began to roar out upon +the stillness. It roared, it broke out in thick sobs that shook the +closed windows in their fastenings, it wrestled with emotion for +utterance, and, overcoming it, rose into a bellow again; but, whether +soaring or depressed, the strain upon it was never relaxed. Uncle +Penberthy, listening to his son, felt an oppression of his own chest +and drew his breath uneasily. + +The tin-smith came round the corner and halted by the door. + +"That son o' yours is a boundless man," he observed with an upward +nod. + +"How did he strike ye this morning?" + +"I don't remember to have been so powerfully moved in my life. Perhaps +you and me being cronies for thirty year, and he your very son, may +have helped to the more effectual working; but be that as it may, I +couldn't master my dinner afterwards, and that's the trewth. Ah, he's +a man, Uncle; and there's no denying we wanted one of that sort to +awaken us to a fit sense. What a dido he do kick up, to be sure!" + +The tin-smith shifted his footing uneasily as if he had something to +add. + +"I hope you won't think it onneighbourly or disrespectful that I didn' +come agen this evenin'," he begun, after a pause. + +"Not at all, Jem, not at all." + +"Because, you see--" + +"Yes, yes, I quite see." + +"I wouldn' have ye think--but there, I'm powerful glad you see." His +face cleared. "Good evenin' to ye, Uncle!" + +He went on with a brisker step, while Uncle Penberthy drew a few more +lingering breaths and climbed the stairs again to the close air of the +meeting-room. + +"I'm afraid, father, that something in my second exhortation +displeased you," said the Rev. William Penberthy as he walked home +from service between his parents. He was a tall fellow with a +hatchet-shaped face and eyes set rather closely together. + +"Not at all, my son. What makes ye deem it?" The little man tilted +back his bronzed top-hat and looked up nervously. + +"Because you went out in the middle of service." + +"'Tis but father's habit, William," old Mrs. Penberthy made haste to +explain, laying a hand on his arm. She was somewhat stouter of build +and louder of voice than her husband, but stood in just the same awe +of her son. "He's done it regular since he was appointed deacon." + +"Why?" asked William, stonily. + +Uncle Penberthy pulled off his hat to extract a red handkerchief from +its crown, removed his spectacles, and wiped them hurriedly. + +"Them varmints of boys," he stammered, "be so troublesome round the +door--occasion'lly, that is." + +"Was that so to-night?" + +"Why, no." + +"But you were absent at least twenty minutes--all through the silent +prayer and half way through the third exhortation." He gazed sternly +at the amiable old man. "You didn't hear me treat that difficulty +in Colossians, two, twenty to twenty-three? If you have time, we'll +discuss it after private worship to-night. If I can make you see it +in what I am sure is the right light, it will lead you to think more +seriously of that glass of beer you have fallen into the habit of +taking with your supper." + +It is but a fortnight since the Rev. William Penberthy came home; but +in that fortnight his father and mother have aged ten years. The +old man, when I took him my watch to regulate the other day--for on +week-days he is a watch-maker--began to ask questions, as eagerly as a +child, about the village news. It turned out that, for a whole week, +he had not been down to sharpen his knife upon the bridge. He has +given up his glass of beer, too, and altogether the zeal of his house +is eating him up. + +This morning the new minister climbed into the van with his +carpet-bag. He is off to some Conference or other, and will be back +again the day after to-morrow. Ten minutes after he had gone his +father and mother shut up the shop and went out together. They mean +to take a whole holiday and hear all the news. It was pitiful to +see their fumbling haste as they helped one another to put up the +shutters; and almost more pitiful to mark, as they hurried down the +street arm in arm, their conscientious but feeble endeavour to look +something more staid than a couple of children just out of school. + + + + +TWO MONUMENTS. + + +MY DEAR YOUNG LADY,-- + +Our postman here does not deliver parcels until the afternoon--which +nobody grumbles at, because of his infirmity and his long and useful +career. The manuscript, therefore, of your novel, _Sunshine and +Shadow_, has not yet reached me. But your letter--in which, you beg me +to send an opinion upon the work, with some advice upon your chances +of success in literature--I found on my breakfast-table, as well +as the photograph which you desire (perhaps wisely) to face the +title-page. I trust you will forgive the slight stain in the lower +left-hand corner of the portrait, which I return: for it is the +strawberry-season here, and in course of my reflections I had the +misfortune to let the cardboard slip between my fingers and fall +across the edge of the plate. + +I have taken the resolution to send my advice before it can be +shaken by a perusal of _Sunshine and Shadow_. But it is difficult +nevertheless. I might say bluntly that, unless the camera lies, your +face is not one to stake against Fame over a game of hazard. You +remember John Lyly's "Cupid and my Campaspe"?--and how Cupid losing, + + "_down he throws + The coral of his lip, the rose + Growing on's cheek (but none lenows how)_ ..." + +--and so on, with the rest of his charms, one by one? I might assure +you that when maidens play against Fame they risk all these treasures +and more, without hope of leniency from their opponent, who (you will +note) is the same sex. But you will answer by return of post, that +this is no business of mine, and that I exhibit the usual impertinence +of man when asked to consider woman's serious aspiration. You will +protest that you are ready to stake all this. Very well, then: listen, +if you have patience, to a little story that I came upon, a week +since, about a man who spent his days at this game of hazard. It was +called _The Two Monuments_. + +When the Headmaster of the Grammar-School came to add up the marks +for the term's work and examination--which he always did without a +mistake--it was discovered that in the Upper Fourth (the top form) +Thompson had beaten Jenkins _major_ by sixteen. So Thompson received +a copy of the _Memoirs of Eminent Etonians_, bound in tree-calf, and +took it home under his arm, wondering what "Etonians" were, but too +proud to ask. And Jenkins _major_ received nothing; and being too weak +to punch Thompson's head (as he desired) waylaid him opposite the +cemetery gate on his way home, and said-- + +"_Parvenu!_" + +--which was doubly insulting; for, in the first place, French was +Thompson's weakest subject, and secondly, his father was a haberdasher +in a small way, who spoke with awe of the Jenkinses as a family that +had practised law in the town for six generations. Thompson himself +was aware of the glamour such a lineage conferred. It was wholly due +to his ignorance of French that he retorted-- + +"You're another!" + +Young Jenkins explained the term, with a wave of his hand towards the +cemetery gate. + +"You'll find my family in there, and inside a rail of their own. And +you needn't think I wanted that prize. _I_'ve got a grandfather." + +So, no doubt, had Thompson; but, to find him, he must have consulted +the parish books and searched among the graves at the northern end of +the burial-ground for one decorated with a tin label and the number +2054. He gazed in at the sacred acre of the Jenkinses and the +monuments emblazoned with "J.P.," "Recorder of this Borough," "Clerk +of the Peace for the County," and other proud appendices in gilt +lettering: and, in the heat of his heart, turned upon Jenkins _major_. + +"You just wait till we die, and see which of us two has the finer +tombstone!" + +Thereupon he stalked home and read the _Memoirs of Eminent Etonians_, +and learnt from their perusal that it was indeed possible to earn +a finer tombstone than any Jenkins possessed. At the end of the +Christmas term, too, he acquired a copy of Dr. Smiles's famous work on +_Self-Help_, and this really set his feet in the path to his desire. + +He determined, after weighing the matter carefully, to be a poet: for +it seemed to him that of all the noble professions this was the only +one the initial expense of which could be covered by his patrimony. +The paper, ink, and pens came cheaply enough (though the waste was +excessive); and for his outfit of high thoughts and emotions he pawned +not merely the possessions that you, my dear young lady, are +so willing to cast on the table--charms of face and graces of +person--for, as a man, he valued these lightly; but the strength in +his arms, the taste of meat and wine, the cunning of horsemanship, of +boat-sailing, of mountain-climbing, the breathless joy of the diver, +the languid joy of the dancer, the feel of the canoe-paddle shaken +in the rapid, the delicious lassitude of sleep in wayside-inns, and +lastly the ecstasy of love and fatherhood--all these he relinquished +for a tombstone that should be handsomer than Jenkins's. Jenkins, +meanwhile, was articled to his father, and, having passed the +necessary examinations with credit, became a solicitor and married +into a county family. + +Thompson, I need hardly tell you, was by this time settled in London +and naturally spent a good deal of his leisure time in Westminster +Abbey. The monuments there profoundly affected his imagination, and +gave him quite new ambitions with regard to the tombstone that towered +at the back of all his day-dreams. When first he trod the Embankment, +in thin boots with a few pence in his pocket, it had appeared to him +in slate with a terrific inscription in gilt letters--inscriptions in +which "Benefactor of His Species," "Take him for All in All We shall +not Look upon his Like Again" took the place of the pettifogging +"Clerk of the Peace" or "J.P." tagged on to the names of the +Jenkinses. By degrees, however, he abated a little of the inscription +and made up for it by trebling the costliness of the stone. + +From slate it grew to granite--to marble--to alabaster, with painted +cherubs and a coat of arms. At one time he brooded, for a whole week, +over a flamboyant design with bosses of lapis lazuli at the four +corners; and only gave it up for a life-size recumbent figure in +alabaster with four gryphons supporting the sarcophagus. As the soles +of his boots thickened with prosperity, so did his stone grow in +solidity. Finally an epic of his--_Adrastus_--took the town by +storm, and three editions were exhausted in a single week. When this +happened, he sat down with a gigantic sheet of cartridge paper before +him and spent a whole year in setting out the elaborated design. By +his will he left all his money to pay for the structure: for his +father and mother were dead and he had neither wife nor child. + +When all was finished he rubbed his hands, packed up his bag and took +a third-class ticket down to his native town, to have a contemptuous +look at the Jenkins monuments and see how Jenkins _major_ was getting +on. + +Jenkins _major_ was up in the cemetery, among his fathers. And on top +of Jenkins rested a granite cross--sufficiently handsome, to be sure, +for a solicitor, but nothing out of the way. "J.P." was carved upon +it; though, as Jenkins had an absurdly long Christian name (Marmaduke +Augustus St. John), these letters were squeezed a bit in the right arm +of the cross. Underneath was engraved-- + + "_ERECTED BY HIS DISCONSOLATE + WIFE AND CHILDREN. + + A Father kind, a Husband dear, + A faithful Friend, lies buried here_." + +Thompson perused the doggerel once, twice, and a third time; and +chuckled contemptuously. "So Jenkins has come to this. God bless me, +how life in a provincial town does narrow a man!" + + "_A Father kind, a Husband dear_..." + +--and he went away chuckling, but with no malice at all in his breast. + +Jenkins slept forgiven beneath his twopenny-halfpenny tombstone, and +Thompson, reflecting that not only was his own monument designed (with +a canopy of Carrara marble), but the cost of it invested in the three +per cents., walked contentedly back to the station, repeating on his +way with gentle scorn-- + + "_A Father kind, a Husband dear, + A faithful Friend, lies buried here_." + +The jingle lulled him asleep in his railway carriage, and he awoke in +London. Driving home, he paid the cabby, rushed up to his room three +stairs at a bound, unlocked his safe and pulled out the great design. +In one corner he had even drawn up a list of the eminent men who +should be his pall-bearers. Certainly such a tomb would make Jenkins +turn in his grave. + +He spread the plan on the table, with a paper-weight on each corner, +and sat down before it. After considering it for an hour, he arose +dissatisfied. + +"Jenkins had a heap of flowers over him--common flowers, to be sure, +but fresh enough. I dare say I could arrange for a supply, though. +It's that confounded doggerel-- + + '_A Father kind, a Husband dear_.' + +"That's Mrs. Jenkins's taste, I suppose. Still--of course I could +better the verse; but one can't stick up a lie over one's remains. I +wish to God I had a disconsolate wife, or a child, if only to spite +Jenkins." + +And I believe, my dear young lady, that underneath his tomb (whereon +there now stands a marble figure of Fame and blows a gilt trumpet) he +is still wishing it. + + + + +EGG-STEALING. + + +It wanted less than an hour to high water when Miss Marty Lear heard +her brother's boat take ground on the narrow beach below the garden, +and set the knives and glasses straight while she listened for the +click of the garden-latch. + +A line of stunted hazels ran along the foot of the garden and hid the +landing-place from Miss Lear as she stood at the kitchen window gazing +down steep alleys of scarlet runners. But above the hazels she could +look across to the fruit-growing village of St. Kits, and catch a +glimpse at high tide of the intervening river, or towards low water of +the mud-banks shining in the sun. + +It was Miss Lear's custom to look much on this landscape from this +window: had, in fact, been her habit for close upon forty years. And +this evening, when the latch clicked at length, and her brother in +his market-suit come slouching up the path between the parallels of +garden-stuff, her eyes rested all the while upon the line of grey +water above and beyond his respectable hat. + +Nor, when he entered the kitchen, hitched this hat upon a peg in the +wall--where its brim accurately fitted a sort of dull halo in the +whitewash--did he appear to want any welcome from her. He was a +long-jawed man of sixty-five, she a long-jawed woman of sixty-one; and +they understood each other's ways, having kept this small and desolate +farm together for thirty years--that is, since their father's death. + +A cold turnip-pasty stood on the table, with the cider-jug that Job +Lear regularly emptied at supper. These suggested no small-talk, and +the pair sat down to eat in silence. + +It was only while holding out his plate for a second helping of the +pasty that Job spoke with a full mouth. + +"Who d'ee reckon I ran across to-day, down in Troy?" + +Miss Marty cut the slice without troubling to say that she had not a +notion. + +"Why, that fellow Amos Trudgeon," he went on. + +"Yes?" + +"'Pears to me you must be failin' if you disremembers 'en: son of old +Sal Trudgeon, that used to keep the jumble-shop 'cross the water: him +that stole our eggs back-along, when father was livin'." + +"I remember." + +"I thought you must. Why, you gave evidence, to be sure. Be dashed! +now I come to mind, if you wasn' the first to wake the house an' say +you heard a man hollerin' out down 'pon the mud." + +"Iss, I was." + +"An' saved his life, though you did get 'en two months in Bodmin Gaol +by it. Up to the arm-pits he was, an' not five minutes to live, when +we hauled 'en out, an' wonderin' what he could be doin' there, found +he'd been stealin' our eggs. He inquired after you to-day." + +"Did he?" + +"Iss. 'How's Miss Marty?' says he. 'Agein' rapidly,' says I. The nerve +that some folks have! Comes up to me as cool as my lord and holds +out a hand. He've a-grown into a sort of commercial; stomach like a +bow-window, with a watch-guard looped across. I'd a mind to say 'Eggs' +to 'en, it so annoyed me." + +"I hope you didn't." + +"No. 'Twould have seemed like bearin' malice. 'Tis an old tale, after +all, that feat of his." + +"Nine an' thirty year, come seventeenth o' September next. Did he say +any more?" + +"Said the weather-glass was risin', but too fast to put faith in." + +"I mean, did he ask any more about me?" + +"Iss: wanted to know if you was married. I reckon he meant that for a +bit o' pleasantness." + +"Not that! Ah, not that!" + +Job laid down knife and fork with their points resting on the rim +of his plate, and, with a lump of pasty in one cheek, looked at his +sister. She had pushed back her chair a bit, and her fingers were +plucking the edge of the table-cloth. + +"Not that!" she repeated once more, and hardly above a whisper. She +did not lift her eyes. Before Job could speak-- + +"He was my lover," she said, and shivered. + +"Mar--ty--" + +She looked up now, hardened her ugly, twitching face, forced her eyes +to meet her brother's, and went on breathlessly-- + +"I swear to you, Job--here, across this table--he was my lover; and +I ruined 'en. He was the only man, 'cept you and father, that ever +kissed me; and I betrayed 'en. As the Lord liveth, I stood up in the +box and swore away his name to save mine. An' what's more, he made +me." + +"Mar--ty Lear!" + +"Don't hinder me, Job. It's God's truth I'm tellin' 'ee. His folks +were a low lot, an' father'd have broken every bone o' me. But we used +to meet in the orchard 'most every night. Don't look so, brother. I'm +past sixty, an' nothin' known; an' now evil an' good's the same to +me." + +"Go on." + +"Well, the last night he came over 'twas spring tides, an' past the +flood. I was waitin' for 'en in the orchard, down in the corner by the +Adam's Pearmain. We could see the white front o' the house from there, +and us in the dark shadow: and there was the gap handy, that Amos +could snip through at a pinch--you fenced it up yoursel' the very +summer that father died in the fall. That night, Amos was late an' the +dew heavy, an' no doubt I lost my temper waitin' out there in the long +grass. We had words, I know; an' I reckon the tide ran far out while +we quarrelled. Anyway, he left me in wrath, an' I stood there under +the appletree, longin' for 'en to come back an' make friends again. +But the time went on, an' I didn' hear his footstep--no, nor his oars +pullin' away--though hearkenin' with all my ears. + +"An' then I heard a terrible sound." Miss Marty paused and drew the +back of her hand across her dry lips before proceeding. + +"--a terrible sound--a sort of low breathin', but fierce; an' +something worse, a suck-suckin' of the mud below; an' I ran down. I +suppose, in his anger, he took no care how he walked round the point +(for he al'ays moored his boat round the point, out o' sight), an' +went wide an' was taken. There he was, above his knees in it, and +far out it seemed to me, in the light o' the young moon. For all his +fightin', he heard me, and whispers out o' the dark-- + +"'Little girl, it's got me. Hush! don't shout, or they'll catch you.' + +"'Can't you get out?' I whispered back. + +"'No,' says he, 'I'm afraid I can't, unless you run up to the linhay +an' fetch a rope.' + +"It was no more I stayed to hear, but ran up hot-foot to the linhay +and back inside the minute, with the waggon rope. + +"'Hold the end,' he panted, 'and throw with all your strength.' And I +threw, but the rope fell short. Twice again I threw, but missed each +cast by a yard and more. He wouldn't let me come near the mud. + +"Then I fell to runnin' to an' fro on the edge o' the firm ground, an' +sobbin' between my teeth because I could devise nothin'. And all the +while he was fightin' hard. + +"'I'll run an' call father an' Job,' says I. + +"'Hush'ee now! Be you crazed? Do you want to let 'em know all?' + +"'But it'll kill you, dear, won't it?' + +"'Likely it will,' said he. Then, after a while of battlin', he +whispers again, 'Little girl, I don't want to die. Death is a cold +end. But I reckon you shall save me an' your name as well. Take the +rope, coil it as you run, and hang it back in the linhay, quick! Then +run you to the hen-house an' bring me all the eggs you can find. Be +quick and ax no questions, for it's little longer I can hold up. It's +above my waist,' he says. + +"I didn' know what he meant, but ran for my life to the linhay, and +hung up the rope, an' then to the hen-house. I could tell prety well +where to find a dozen eggs or more in the dark, an' in three minutes +I'd groped about an' gathered 'em in the lap o' my dress. Then back I +ran. I could just spy 'en--a dark spot out there in the mud. + +"'How many?' he axed, an' his voice was like a rook's. + +"'A dozen, or near.' + +"'Toss 'em here. Don't come too nigh, an' shy careful, so's I can +catch.' + +"I stepped down pretty nigh to the brim o' the mud an' tossed 'em out +to him. Three fell short in my hurry, but the rest he got hold of +somehow. + +"'That's right,' he calls, hoarse and low, 'they'll think +egg-stealin' nateral to a low family like our'n. Now back to your +room--undress--an' cry out, sayin', there's a man shoutin' for help +down 'pon the mud; and, dear, be quick! When you wave your candle +twice at the window, I'll shout like a Trojan.' + +"An' I did it, Job; for the cruelty in a fearful woman passes +knowledge. An' you rescued 'en an' he went to gaol. For he said 'twas +the only way. An' his mother took it as quite reasonable that her +husband's son should take to the bad--'twas the way of all them +Trudgeons. Father to son, they was of no account. Egg-stealin' was +just the little hole-an'-corner wickedness that 'd come nateral to +'em." + +"I rec'lect now," said Job Lear very slowly, "that the wain-rope was +wet i' my hands when I unhitched 'en that night from the hook, an' I +wondered, it bein' the end of a week's dryth. But in the dark an' the +confusion o' savin' the wastrel's life it slipped my thoughts, else--" + +"Else you'd ha' wetted it wi' the blood o' my back, Job. But the +rope's been frayed to powder this many year. An' you needn't look at +me like that. I'm past sixty, an' I've done my share of repentin'. He +didn't say if he was married, did he?" + + + + +SEVEN-AN'-SIX. + + +The old fish-market at Troy was just a sagged lean-to roof on the +northern side of the Town Quay, resting against the dead wall of the +harbour-master's house, and propped in front by four squat granite +columns. This roof often let in rain enough to fill the pits worn in +the paving-stones by the feet of gossiping generations; and the whole +was wisely demolished a few years back to make place for a Working +Men's Institute--a red building, where they take in all the chief +London newspapers. Nevertheless I have, in some moods, caught myself +hankering after the old shelter, where the talk was unchartered +always, and where no notices were suspended against smoking; and I +know it used to be worth visiting on dirty evenings about the time of +the Equinox, when the town-folk assembled to watch the high tide and +the chances of its flooding the streets about the quay. + +Early one September afternoon, about two years before its destruction, +a small group of watermen, a woman or two, and a fringe of small +children were gathered in the fish-market around a painter and his +easel. The painter--locally known as Seven-an'-Six--was a white-haired +little man, with a clean-shaven face, a complexion of cream and +roses, a high unwrinkled brow, and blue eyes that beamed an engaging +trustfulness on his fellow-creatures, of whom he stood ready to paint +any number at seven shillings and sixpence a head. As this method +of earning a livelihood did not allow him to sojourn long in one +place--which, indeed, was far from his desire--he spent a great part +of his time upon the cheaper seats of obscure country vehicles. He +delighted in this life of perennial transience, and enjoyed painting +the portraits which justified it; and was, on the whole, one of the +happiest of men. + +Just now he was enjoying himself amazingly, being keenly alive not +merely to the crowd's admiration, but to the rare charm of that which +he was trying to paint. Some six paces before him there leant against +one of the granite pillars a woman of exceeding beauty: her figure +tall, supple, full of strength, in every line, her face brown and +broad-browed, with a heavy chin that gave character to the rest of her +features, and large eyes, black as sloes, that regarded the artist and +the group at his elbow with a sombre disdain. The afternoon sunshine +slanted down the pillar, was broken by the mass of dark hair she +rested against it, and ran down again along her firm and rounded arm +to the sun-bonnet she dangled by its strings. Behind her, the quay's +edge shone bright against the green water of the harbour, where, half +a cable's length from shore, a small three-masted schooner lay at +anchor, with her Blue Peter fluttering at the fore. + +"He's gettin' her to-rights," observed one of the crowd. + +A woman said, "I wish I'd a-been took in my young days, when I was +comely." + +"Then, whyever wasn't 'ee, Mrs. Slade?" + +"Well-a-well, my dear, I'm sure I dunno. Three ha'af-crowns is a +lot o' money to see piled in your palm, an' say 'Fare thee well; +increase!' Store 's no sore, as my old mother used to say." + +"But," argued a man, "when once you've made up your mind to the +gallant speckilation, you never regret it--danged if you do!" + +"Then why hasn't 'ee been took, Thomas, in all these years?" + +"Because that little emmet o' doubt gets the better o' me every time. +'Tis like holdin' back from the Fifteen Balls: you feel sure in your +own mind you'll be better wi'out the drink, but for your life you +durstn't risk the disapp'intment. Over this matter I'll grant ye +that I preaches what I can't practise. But my preachin' is sound. +Therefore, I bid ye all follow the example o' Cap'n Hosken here, +who, bein' possessed wi' true love for 'Liza Saunders, is havin' her +portrait took for to hang up in his narrow cabin out to sea, an' +remind hissel' o' the charms that bide at home a-languishin'." + +"That's not my reason, though," said Captain Hosken, a sunburnt and +serious man, at the painter's elbow. + +"Then what may it be, makin' so bold?" + +"I'll tell ye when the painting's done." + +"A couple of strokes, and it's finished," said the artist, cocking his +head on one side and screwing up his blue eyes. "There, I'll tell you +plainly, friend, that my skill is but a seven-and-sixpenny matter, or +a trifle beyond. It does well enough what it pretends to do; but this +is a subject I never ought to have touched. I know my limits. You'll +see, sir," he went on, in a more business-like tone, "I've indicated +your ship here in the middle distance. I thought it would give the +portrait just that touch of sentiment you would desire." + +The faces gathered closer to stare. 'Liza left the pillar, stretched +herself to her full height, and came forward, tying the strings of her +sun-bonnet. + +"'Tis the very daps of her!" was Captain Hosken's comment as he pulled +out his three half-crowns. "As for the _Rare Plant_, what you've put +in might be took for a vessel; and if a man took it for a vessel, he +might go on to take it for a schooner; but I'd be tolerable sorry if +he took it for a schooner o' which I was master. Hows'ever, you've put +in all 'Liza's good looks an' enticingness. 'Tis a picture I'm glad to +own, an' be dashed to the sentiment you talked about!" + +He took the portrait carefully from the easel, and held it before him, +between his open palms. + +"Neighbours all," he began, his rather stupid face overspread with an +expression of satisfied cunning, "I promised to tell 'ee my reasons +for havin' 'Liza's portrait took. They're rather out o' the common, +an' 'Liza hersel' don't guess what they be, no more than the biggest +fool here present amongst us." + +He looked from the man Thomas, from whose countenance this last +innuendo glanced off as from a stone wall, to 'Liza, who answered +him with a puzzled scowl. Her foot began to tap the paving-stone +impatiently. + +"When I gazes 'pon 'Liza," he pursued, "my eyes be fairly dazzled wi' +the looks o' her. I allow that. She's got that build, an' them lines +about the neck an' waist, an' them red-ripe lips, that I feels no +care to look 'pon any other woman. That's why I took up wi' her, an' +offered her my true heart. But strike me if I'd counted 'pon her +temper; an' she's got the temper of Old Nick! Why, only last +evenin'--the very evenin' before I sailed, mark ye--she slapped my +ear. She did, though! Says I, down under my breath, 'Right you are my +lady! we'll be quits for that.' But, you see, I couldn' bear to break +it off wi' her, because I didn' want to miss her beautiful looks." + +The women began to titter, and 'Liza's face to flame, but her lover +proceeded with great complacency: + +"Well, I was beset in my mind till an hour agone, when--as I walked +down here with 'Liza, half mad to take leave of her, and sail for Rio +Grande, and likewise sick of her temper--I sees this gentleman a-doin' +pictures at seven-an'-six; and thinks I, 'If I can get 'en to make a +copy of 'Liza's good looks, then I shall take off to sea as much as I +want of her, an' the rest, temper included, can bide at home till I +calls for it. That's all I've got to say. 'Liza's a beauty beyond +compare, an' her beauty I worships, an' means to worship. But if any +young man wants to take her, I tell him he's welcome. So long t' ye +all!" + +Still holding the canvas carefully a foot from his waistcoat, to avoid +smearing it, he sauntered off to the quay-steps, and hailed his boat +to carry him aboard the _Rare Plant_. As he passed the girl he had +thus publicly jilted, her fingers contracted for a second like a +hawk's talons; but she stood still, and watched him from under +her brows as he descended the steps. Then with a look that, as it +travelled in a semi-circle, obliterated the sympathy which most of the +men put into their faces, and the sneaking delight which all the women +wore on theirs, she strode out of the fish-market and up the street. + +Seven-an'-Six squeezed the paint out of his brushes, packed up his +easel and japanned box, wished the company good-day, and strolled back +to his inn. He was sincerely distressed, and regretted a hundred times +in the course of that evening that he had parted with the portrait +and received its price before Captain Hosken had made that speech. He +would (he told himself) have run his knife through the canvas, and +gladly forfeited the money. As it was, he lingered long over the +supper it procured, and ate heartily. + +A mile beyond the town, next morning, Boutigo's van, in which he was +the only passenger, pulled up in front of a roadside cottage. A bundle +and a tin box were hoisted up by Boutigo, and a girl climbed in. It +was 'Liza. + +"Oh, good morning!" stammered the little painter. + +"I'm going to stay with my aunt in Truro, and seek service," the girl +announced, keeping her eye upon him, and her colour down with an +effort. "Where are you bound?" + +"I? Oh, I travel about, now in one place, next day in another--always +moving. It's the breath of life to me, moving around." + +"That must be nice! I often wonder why men tie themselves up to a wife +when they might be free to move about like you, and see the world. +What does a man want to tack a wife on to him when he can always carry +her image about?" She laughed, without much bitterness. + +"But--" began the amiable painter, and checked himself. He had been +about to confess that he himself owned a wife and four healthy +children. He saw this family about once in two months, and it existed +by letting out lodgings in a small unpaintable town. He was sincerely +fond of his wife, who made every allowance for his mercurial nature; +but it suddenly struck him that her portrait hung in the parlour at +home, and had never accompanied him on his travels. + +He was silent for a minute or two, and then began to converse on +ordinary topics. + + + + +THE REGENT'S WAGER. + + +Boutigo's van--officially styled _The Vivid_--had just issued from +the Packhorse Yard, Tregarrick, a leisurely three-quarters of an hour +behind its advertised time, and was scaling the acclivity of St. +Fimbar's Street in a series of short tacks. Now and then it halted +to take up a passenger or a parcel; and on these occasions Boutigo +produced a couple of big stones from his hip-pockets and slipped them +under the hind-wheels, while we, his patrons within the van, tilted +at an angle of 15 deg. upon cushions of American cloth, sought for new +centres of gravity, and earnestly desired the summit. + +It was on the summit, where the considerate Boutigo gave us a minute's +pause to rearrange ourselves and our belongings, that we slipped into +easy and general talk. An old countryman, with an empty poultry-basket +on his knees, and a battered top-hat on the back of his head, gave us +the cue. + +"When Boutigo's father had the accident--that was back in 'fifty-six,' +and it broke his leg an' two ribs--the van started from close 'pon the +knap o' the hill here, and scat itself to bits against the bridge at +the foot just two and a half minutes after." + +I suggested that this was not very fast for a runaway horse. + +"I dessay not," he answered; "but 'twas pretty spry for a van slippin' +_backwards_, and the old mare diggin' her toes in all the way to hold +it up." + +One or two of the passengers grinned at my expense, and the old man +pursued-- + +"But if you want to know how fast a hoss _can_ get down St. Fimbar's +hill, I reckon you've lost your chance by not axin' Dan'l Best, that +died up to the 'Sylum twelve years since; though, poor soul, he'd but +one answer for every question from his seven-an'-twentieth year to his +end, an' that was 'One, two, three, four, five, sis, seven." + +"Ah, the poor body! his was a wisht case," a woman observed from the +corner furthest from the door. + +"Ay, Selina, and fast forgotten, like all the doin's and sufferin's of +the men of old time." He reached a hand round his basket, and touching +me on the knee, pointed back on Tregarrick. "There's a wall," he said, +and I saw by the direction of his finger that he meant the wall of the +county prison, "and beneath that wall's a road, and across that road's +a dismal pool, and beyond that pool's a green hillside, with a road +athurt it that comes down and crosses by the pool's head. Standin' +'pon that hillside you can see a door in the wall, twenty feet above +the ground, an' openin' on nothing. Leastways, you could see it once; +an' even now, if ye've good eyesight, ye can see where they've bricked +it up." + +I could, in fact, even at our distance, detect the patch of recent +stone-work; and knew something of its history. + +"Now," the old man continued, "turn your looks to the right and mark +the face of Tregarrick town-clock. You see it, hey?"--and I had time +to read the hour on its dial before Boutigo jolted us over the ridge +and out of sight of it--"Well, carry them two things in your mind: for +they mazed Dan'l Best an' murdered his brother Hughie." + +And, much as I shall repeat it, he told me this tale, pausing now and +again to be corroborated by the woman in the corner. The history, my +dear reader, is accurate enough--for Boutigo's van. + +There lived a young man in Tregarrick in the time of the French War. +His name was Dan'l Best, and he had an only brother Hughie, just three +years younger than himself. Their father and mother had died of the +small-pox and left them, when quite young children, upon the parish: +but old Walters of the Packhorse--he was great-grandfather of the +Walters that keeps it now--took a liking to them and employed them, +first about his stables and in course of time as post-boys. Very good +post-boys they were, too, till Hughie took to drinking and wenching +and cards and other devil's tricks. Dan'l was always a steady sort: +walked with a nice young woman that was under-housemaid up to the old +Lord Bellarmine's at Castle Cannick, and was saving up to be married, +when Hughie robbed the mail. + +Hughie robbed the mail out of doubt. He did it up by Tippet's Barrow, +just beyond the cross-roads where the scarlet gig used to meet the +coach and take the mails for Castle Cannick and beyond to Tolquite. +Billy Phillips, that drove the gig, was found in the ditch with his +mouth gagged, and swore to Hughie's being the man. The Lord Chief +Justice, too, summed up dead against him, and the jury didn't even +leave the box. And the moral was, "Hughie Best, you're to be taken to +the place whence you come from, ancetera, and may the Lord have mercy +upon your soul!" + +You may fancy what a blow this was to Dan'l; for though fine and vexed +with Hughie's evil courses, he'd never guessed the worst, nor anything +like it. Not a doubt had he, nor could have, that Hughie was guilty; +but he went straight from the court to his young woman and said, "I've +saved money for us to be married on. There's little chance that I can +win Hughie a reprieve; and, whether or no, it will eat up all, or +nearly all, my savings. Only he's my one brother. Shall I go?" And she +said, "Go, my dear, if I wait ten years for you." So he borrowed a +horse for a stage or two, and then hired, and so got to London, on a +fool's chase, as it seemed. + +The fellow's purpose, of course, was to see King George. But King +George, as it happened, was daft just then; and George his son reigned +in his stead, being called the Prince Regent. Weary days did Dan'l air +his heels with one Minister of the Crown after another before he could +get to see this same Regent, and 'tis to be supposed that the great +city, being new to him, weighed heavy on his spirits. And all the +time he had but one plea, that his brother was no more than a boy and +hadn't an ounce of vice in his nature--which was well enough beknown +to all in Tregarrick, but didn't go down with His Majesty's advisers: +while as for the Prince Regent, Dan'l couldn't get to see him till the +Wednesday evening that Hughie was to be hanged on the Friday, and then +his Royal Highness spoke him neither soft nor hopeful. + +"The case was clear as God's daylight," said he: "the Lord Chief +Justice tells me that the jury didn't even quit the box." + +"Your Royal Highness must excuse me," said Dan'l, "but I never shall +be able to respect that judge. My opinion of a judge is, he should +be like a stickler and see fair play; but this here chap took sides +against Hughie from the first. If I was you," he said, "I wouldn't +trust him with a Petty Sessions." + +"Well, you may think how likely this kind of speech was to please the +Prince Regent. And I've heard that Dan'l; was in the very article of +being pitched out, neck and crop, when he heard a regular caprouse +start up in the antechamber behind him, and a lord-in-waiting, or +whatever he's called, comes in and speaks a word very low to the +Prince. + +"Show him in at once," says he, dropping poor Dan'l's petition upon +the table beside him; and in there walks a young officer with his +boots soiled with riding and the sea-salt in his hair, like as if he'd +just come off a ship; and hands the Prince a big letter. The Prince +hardly cast his eye over what was written before he outs with a lusty +hurrah, as well he might, for this was the first news of the taking of +St. Sebastian. + +"Here's news," said he, "to fill the country with bonfires this +night." + +"Begging your Royal Highness's pardon," answers the officer, +pulling out his watch; "but the mail coaches have left St. Martin's +Lane"--that's where they started from, as I've heard tell--"these +twenty minutes." + +"Damn it!" says Dan'l Best and the Prince Regent, both in one breath. + +"Hulloa! Be you here still?" says the Prince, turning sharp round at +the sound of Dan'l's voice. "And what be you waiting for?" + +"For my brother Hughie's reprieve," says Dan'l. + +"Well, but 'tis too late now, anyway," says the Prince. + +"I'll bet 'tis not," says Dan'l, "if you'll look slippy and make out +the paper." + +"You can't do it. 'Tis over two hundred and fifty miles, and you can't +travel ten miles an hour all the way like the coach." + +"It'll reach Tregarrick to-morrow night," says Dan'l, "an' they won't +hang Hughie till seven in the morning. So I've an hour or two to +spare, and being a post-boy myself, I know the ropes." + +"Well," says his Royal Highness, "I'm in a very good temper because +of this here glorious storming of St. Sebastian. So I'll wager your +brother's life you don't get there in time to stop the execution." + +"Done with you, O King!" says Dan'l, and the reprieve was made out, +quick as lightning. + +Well, sir, Dan'l knew the ropes, as he said; and moreover, I reckon +there was a kind of freemasonry among post-boys; and the two together, +taken with his knowledge o' horseflesh, helped him down the road as +never a man was helped before or since. 'Twas striking nine at night +when he started out of London with the reprieve in his pocket, and by +half-past five in the morning he spied Salisbury spire lifting out of +the morning light. There was some hitch here--the first he met--in +getting a relay; but by six he was off again, and passed through +Exeter early in the afternoon. Down came a heavy rain as the evening +drew in, and before he reached Okehampton the roads were like a bog. +Here it was that the anguish began, and of course to Dan'l, who found +himself for the first time in his life sitting in the chaise instead +of in the saddle, 'twas the deuce's own torment to hold himself still, +feel the time slipping away, and not be riding and getting every ounce +out of the beasts: though, even to _his_ eye, the rider in front +was no fool. But at Launceston soon after daybreak he met with a +misfortune indeed. A lot of folks had driven down overnight to +Tregarrick to witness the day's sad doings, and there wasn't a chaise +to be had in the town for love or money. + +"What do I want with a chaise?" said Dan'l, for of course he was in +his own country now, and everybody knew him. "For the love of God, +give me a horse that'll take me into Tregarrick before seven and save +Hughie's life! Man, I've got a reprieve!" + +"Dear lad, is that so?" said the landlord, who had come down, and was +standing by the hotel door in nightcap and bedgown. "I thought, maybe, +you was hurrying to see the last of your brother. Well, there's but +one horse left in stable, and that's the grey your master sold me two +months back; and he's a screw, as you must know. But here's the stable +key. Run and take him out yourself, and God go with 'ee!" + +None knew better than Dan'l that the grey was a screw. But he ran down +to the stable, fetched the beast out, and didn't even wait to shift +his halter for a bridle, but caught up the half of a broken mop-handle +that lay by the stable door, and with no better riding whip galloped +off bare-back towards Tregarrick. + +Aye, sir, and he almost won his race in spite of all. The hands o' the +town clock were close upon seven as he came galloping over the knap +of the hill and saw the booths below him and sweet-stalls and +standings--for on such days 'twas as good as a fair in Tregarrick--and +the crowd under the prison wall. And there, above them, he could see +the little open doorway in the wall, and one or two black figures +there, and the beam. Just as he saw this the clock struck its first +note, and Dan'l, still riding like a madman, let out a scream, and +waved the paper over his head; but the distance was too great. Seven +times the clapper struck, and with each stroke Dan'l screamed, still +riding and keeping his eyes upon that little doorway. But a second or +two after the last stroke he dropped his arm suddenly as if a bullet +had gone through it, and screamed no more. Less than a minute after, +sir, he pulled up by the bridge on the skirt of the crowd, and looked +round him with a silly smile. + +"Neighbours," says he, "I've a-got great news for ye. We've a-taken +St. Sebastian, and by all acounts the Frenchies'll be drove out of +Spain in less'n a week." + +There was silence in Boutigo's van for a full minute; and then the old +woman spoke from the corner: + +"Well, go on, Sam, and tell the finish to the company." + +"Is there more to tell?" I asked. + +"Yes, sir," said Sam, leaning forward again, and tapping my knee very +gently, "there were _two men_ condemned at Tregarrick, that Assize; +and two men put to death that morning. The first to go was a +sheep-stealer. Ten minutes after, Dan'l saw Hughie his brother led +forth; and stood there and watched, with the reprieve in his hand. +His wits were gone, and he chit-chattered all the time about St. +Sebastian." + + + + +LOVE OF NAOMI. + + +I. + +The house known as Vellan's Rents stands in the Chy-pons over the +waterside, a stone's throw beyond the ferry and the archway where +the toll-keeper used to live. You may know it by its exceeding +dilapidation and by the clouds of steam that issue on the street from +one of its windows. The sill of this window stands a bare foot above +the causeway, and glancing down into the room as you pass, you will +see the shoulders of a woman stooping over a wash-tub. When first I +used to pass this window the woman was called Naomi Bricknell; later +it was Sarah Ann Polgrain; and now it is (euphemistically) Pretty +Alice. One goes and makes way for another, but the wash-tub is always +there and the rheumatic fever; and while these remain they will never +lack, as they have never lacked yet, for a woman to do battle for dear +life between them. + +But my story concerns the first of these only, Naomi Bricknell. She +and her mother occupied two rooms in Vellan's Rents as far back as I +can remember, and were twisted with the fever about once in every six +months. For this they paid one shilling a week rent. If you lift the +latch and push the front door open, you seem at first to be looking +down a well; for a flight of thirty-two steps plunges straight from +the threshold to the quay door and a square of green water there. And +when the sun is on the water at the bottom of this funnel, the effect +is pretty. But taking note of the cold wind that rushes up this +stairway and into the steaming room where the wash-tub stands, you +will understand how it comes that each new tenant takes over the +rheumatic fever as one of the fixtures. + +In a room to the right of the stairway, and facing Naomi's, lived a +middle-aged man who was always known as Long Oliver. This man was a +native of the port, and it was understood that he and Naomi had been +well acquainted, years ago, before he started on his first voyage and +some time before Naomi married. Tiring of the sea in time, he had +found work on the jetties and rented this room for sixpence a week. In +these days he and Naomi rarely spoke to each other beyond exchanging +a "Good-morning" when they met on the stairway, nor did he show any +friendliness beyond tapping at her mother's door and inquiring about +her once a day whenever she happened to be down with the fever. I have +made researches and find that the rest of the house was tenanted at +that time by a working block-maker, with his wife and four children; +a widow and her son just returned from sea with an injured spine; a +young couple without children. But these do not come into the tale. + +Now the history of Naomi was this. She was married at three-and-twenty +to Abe Bricknell, a young sailor of the port, and as steady as a woman +could wish. In the third year of their married life, and a week +after obtaining his certificate, he sailed out of Troy as mate of a +fruit-ship, a barque, that never came back, nor was sighted again +after passing the Lizard lights. + +Naomi--a tall up-standing woman with deep, gentle eyes, like a cow's, +and a firm mouth that seldom spoke--took her affliction oddly. She +neither wailed nor put on mourning. She looked upon it as a matter +between herself and her Maker, and said: + +"God has done this thing to me; therefore I have finished with Him. I +am no man to go and revenge myself by breaking all the Commandments. +But I am a woman and can suffer. Let Him do His worst: I defy Him." + +So she never set foot inside church again, nor offered any worship. +The week long she worked as a laundress, and sat through the Sundays +with her arms folded, gloomily fighting her duel. When the fever +wrenched her arms and lips as she stood by the wash-tub, she set her +teeth and said, "I can stand it. I can match all this with contempt. +He can kill, but that's not beating me." + +Her mother, a large and pale-faced woman of sixty, with an apparently +thoughtful contraction of the lips, in reality due to a habit of +carrying pins in her mouth, watched Naomi anxiously during this period +of her life. And Long Oliver watched her too, though secretly, with +eyes screwed up after the fashion of men who have followed the sea. + +One day he stopped her on the stairs and asked, abruptly: + +"When be you thinkin' to marry again?" + +"Never," she answered, straight and at once, halting with a hand on +her hip and eyeing him. + +"Dear me; but you will, I hope." + +"Not to you, anyway." + +"Laws me, no! I don't want 'ee; haven't wanted 'ee these ten years. +But I'd a reason for askin'." + +"Then I'm sure I don't know what it can be." + +"True--true. Look'ee here, my dear; 'tis ordained for you to marry +agen." + +"Aw? Who by?" + +"Providence." + +Naomi had treated Long Oliver badly in days gone by, but could still +talk to him with more freedom than to other men. Still standing with +a hand on her hip, she let fall a horrible sentence about the +Almighty--all the more horrible in that it came deliberately, without +emphasis, and from quiet lips. + +"Woman!" cried a voice above them. + +They turned, looked up, and saw the bent figure of a man framed in the +street doorway. This was William Geake, who walked in from Gantick +every Saturday to collect the sixpences and shillings of Vellan's +Rents for its landlord, a well-to-do wine and spirit merchant at +Tregarrick. As a man of indisputable probity and an unwearying walker, +Geake was entrusted with many odd jobs of this kind in the country +round, filling in with them such idle corners as his trade of +carpenter and undertaker to Gantick village might leave in the six +working days. On Sundays he put on a long black coat, and became a +Rounder, or Methodist local-preacher, walking sometimes twenty miles +there and back to terrify the inhabitants of outlying hamlets about +their future state. + +"Woman!" cried William Geake, "Down 'pon your knees an' pray God the +roof don't fall on 'ee for your vile words." + +"I reckon," retorted Naomi quietly, with a glance up at the +worm-riddled rafters, "you'd do more good by speakin' to the +landlord." + +William Geake had a high brow and bright, nervous eyes, betokening +enthusiasm; but he had also a long and square jaw that meant +stubbornness. This jaw now began to protrude and his lips to +straighten. + +"Down 'pon your knees!" he repeated. + +Naomi turned her eyes from him to Long Oliver, who leant against the +staircase wall with his arms crossed and a veiled amusement in his +face. With a slightly heightened colour, but no flutter of the voice, +she repeated her blasphemy; and then, pulling a shilling from her worn +purse, tendered it to Geake. This, of course, meant "Mind your own +business"; but he waved her hand aside. + +"Down 'pon your knees, woman!" he shouted thunderously. Then, as she +showed no disposition to obey, he added, grimly, "Eh? but somebody +shall intercede for thee afore thou'rt a minute older." + +And pulling off his hat there and then, he knelt down on the doorstep, +with the soles of his hob-nailed boots showing to the street. + +"Get up, an' don't make yoursel' a may-game," said Naomi hurriedly, as +one or two children stopped their play, and drew around to stare. + +"Father in heaven," began William Geake, in a voice that fetched the +women-folk, all up and down the Chy-pons, to their doors, "Thou, whose +property is ever to have mercy, forgive this blaspheming woman! Suffer +one who is Thy servant, though a grievous sinner, to intercede for her +afore she commits the sin that cannot be forgiven; to pluck her as a +brand from the burning--" + +By this, the women and a loafing man or two had clustered round, and +Colliver's coal-cart had rattled up and come to a standstill. The +Chy-pons is the narrowest street in Troy, and Colliver's driver could +hardly pass now, except over William Geake's legs. + +"Draw in your feet, brother Geake," he called out, "or else pray +short." + +One or two women giggled at this. But Geake did not seem to hear. +For five good minutes he prayed vociferously, as was his custom in +meeting-house; then rose, replaced his hat, dusted his knees, held out +his hand for Naomi's shilling, and wrote her the customary voucher in +his most business-like manner, and without another word. But there was +a triumphant look in his eyes that dared Naomi to repeat her offence, +and she very nearly wept as she felt that the words would not come. +This and the shame of publicity drove her back into her room as Geake +passed down the stairs to collect the other rents. A few women still +hung about the doorway as he emerged, some twenty minutes later. But +he marched down Chy-pons with head erect and eyes fixed straight +ahead. + + +II. + +On the following Saturday, when Geake called, Naomi was standing at +her wash-tub. She had seen him pass the window, and, hurriedly wiping +her hands, and pulling out her shilling, placed it ostentatiously in +the very centre of the deal table by the door; then had just time to +plunge her hands in the soap-suds again before he knocked. Try as she +would, she could not keep back a blush at the remembrance of last +week's scene, and half looked for him to make some allusion to it. + +His extremely business-like air reassured her. She nodded towards +the shilling without removing her hands from the tub. He took it, +including in a polite good-morning both Naomi and her mother, who was +huddled in an arm-chair before the fire and recovering from an attack +of the fever, wrote out his voucher solemnly, set it in the exact spot +where the shilling had stood, took up his hat, hesitated for less than +a second, replaced his hat on the table, and, pulling a chair towards +him, dropped on his knees, and began to pray aloud. + +The old woman by the fire slewed her head painfully round and stared +at him, then at Naomi. But Naomi was standing with her back to them +both, and her hands soaping the linen in the tub--gently, however, and +without any splashing. She therefore let her head sink back on the +cushion, and assumed that peculiarly dejected air, commonly reserved +by her for the consolations of religion. + +On this occasion William Geake prayed in a low and level tone, and +very briefly. He made no allusion to last Saturday, but put up an +earnest petition for blessings upon "our two sisters here," and that +they might learn to accept their appointed portion with resignation, +yea, even with a holy joy. At the end of two minutes he rose, and +was about to dust his knees, after his usual custom, but, becoming +suddenly aware of the difference in cleanliness between Naomi's +lime-ash and the floors of the various meeting-houses of his +acquaintance, refrained. This little piece of delicacy did not escape +Naomi, though her shoulders were still bent over the tub, to all +seeming as resolutely as ever. + +"Well, I swow that was very friendly of Mister Geake!" the old woman +ejaculated, as the door closed behind him. "'Tisn't everybody'd ha' +thought what a comfort a little scrap o' religion can be to an old +woman in my state." + +"He took a great liberty," said Naomi snappishly. + +"Well, he might ha' said as much as 'By your leave,' to be sure; +an' now you say so, 'twas makin' a bit free to talk about our +dependence--an' in my own kitchen too." + +"He meant our dependence on th' Almighty," Naomi corrected, still more +snappishly. "William Geake's an odd-fangled man, but you might give +'en credit for good-feelin'. An', what's more, though I don't hold +wi' Christian talk, if a man have a got beliefs, I respect 'en for +standin' to 'em without shame." + +"But I thought, a moment ago--" her mother began, and then subsided. +She was accustomed to small tangles in her own processes of thought, +and quite incapable, after years of blind acceptance, of correcting +Naomi's logic. + +No more was said on the matter. The next Saturday, after receiving his +shilling, Mr. Geake knelt down without any hesitation. It was clear he +wished this prayer to be a weekly institution, and an institution it +became. + +The women never knelt. Naomi, indeed, had never sanctioned the +innovation, unless by her silence, and her mother assisted only with a +very lugubrious "Amen," being too weak to stir from her chair. As the +months passed, it became evident to Geake that her strength would +never come back. The fever had left her, apparently for good; but the +rheumatism remained, and closed slowly upon the heart. The machine was +worn out. + +When the end came, Naomi had been doing the work single-handed for +close upon twelve months. She could always get a plenty of work, and +now took in a deal too much for her strength, to settle the doctor's +and undertaker's bills, and buy herself a black gown, cape, and +bonnet. The funeral, of course, took place on a Sunday. Geake, on the +Saturday afternoon, knocked gently at Naomi's door. His single +intent was to speak a word or two of sympathy, if she would listen. +Remembering her constant attitude under the Divine scourge, he felt a +trifle nervous. + +But there lay the shilling in the centre of the table, and there stood +Naomi in a cloud of steam, hard at work on an immoderate pile of +washing--even a man's miscalculating eye could see that it was +immoderate. + +"I didn't call--" he began, with a glance towards the shilling. + +"No; I know you didn't. But you may so well take it all the same." + +Geake had rehearsed a small speech, but found himself making out and +signing the voucher as usual; and, as usual, when it was signed, he +drew over a chair, and dropped on his knees. In prayer-meeting he was +a great hand at "improving" an occasion of bereavement; but here again +his will to speak impressively suddenly failed him. His words were: + +"Lord, there were two women grinding at a mill; the one was taken, and +t'other left. She that you took, you've a-carr'd beyond our prayers; +but O, be gentle, be gentle, to her that's left!" + +He arose, and looked shyly, almost shamefacedly, at Naomi. She had not +turned. But her head was bowed; and, drawing near, he saw that the +scalding tears were falling fast into the wash-tub. She had not wept +when her husband was lost, nor since. + +"Go away!" she commanded, before he could speak, turning her shoulders +resolutely towards him. + +He took up his hat, and went out softly, closing the door softly +behind him. + +His eye, which was growing quick to read Naomi's face, saw at once, +as he entered the room a week later, that she deprecated even the +slightest reference to her weakness. It also told him--he had not +guessed it before--that her emotional breakdown had probably more to +do with physical exhaustion than with any eloquence of his. The pile +of washing had grown, and the woman's face was grey with fatigue. + +Geake, as he made out the voucher, cast about for a polite mode of +hinting that this kind of thing must not go on. Nevertheless it was +Naomi who began. + +"Look here," she said, as he put down the voucher; "there ain't goin' +to be no more prayin', eh?" + +"Why, to be sure there is," he answered with a show of great +cheerfulness; and reached for a chair. + +"I'd liefer you didn't. I don't want it. I don't hold by any o't. +You'm very kind," she went on, her voice trembling for an instant and +then recovering its firmness, "and I reckon it soothed mother. But I +reckon it don't soothe me. I reckon it rubs me the wrong way. There's +times, when I hears a body prayin', that I wishes we was Papists again +and worshipped images, that I might throw stones at 'em!" + +She paused, looked up into Geake's devouring eyes, and added, with a +poor attempt at a laugh: + +"So you see, I'm wicked, an' don't want to be saved." + +Then the man broke forth: + +"Saved? No, I reckon you don't! Wicked? Iss, I reckon you be! But +saved you shall be--ay, if you was twice so wicked. Who'll do it? I'll +do it--I alone. I don't want your help. I want to do it in spite of +'ee: an' I'll lay that I do! Be your wickedness deep as hell, an' I'll +reach down a hand to the roots and pluck it up: be your salvation +stubborn as Death, I'll wrestle wi' the Lord for it. If I sell my own +soul for't, yours shall be redeemed!" + +He slammed down his fist on the rickety deal table, which promptly +collapsed flat on the floor, with its four legs splayed under the +circular cover. + +"Bein' a carpenter--" Geake began to stammer apologetically, and in a +totally different tone. + +For a second--two seconds--the issue hung between tears and laughter. +An hysterical merriment twinkled in Naomi's eyes. + +But the strength of Geake's passion saved the situation. He stepped up +to Naomi, laid a hand on each shoulder, and shook her gently to and +fro. + +"Listen to me! As I hold 'ee now, so I take your fate in my hands. +Naomi Bricknell, you've got to be my wife, so make up your mind to +that." + +She cowered a little under his grasp; put out a hand to push him off; +drew it back; and broke into helpless sobbing. But this time she did +not command him to go away. + +Fifteen minutes later William Geake left Vellan's Rents with joy on +his face and a broken table under his arm. + +And two days later Naomi's face wore a look of demure happiness when +Long Oliver stopped her on the staircase and asked, + +"Is it true, what I hear?" + +"It is true," she answered. + +"An' when be the banns called?" + +"There ain't goin' to be no banns." + +"Hey?" + +"There ain't goin' to be no banns; leastways, there ain't goin' to be +none called. We'm goin' to the Registry Office. You look all struck of +a heap. Was you hopin' to be best man?" + +"Well, I reckoned I'd take a hand in the responses," he answered; and +seemed about to say more, but turned on his heel and went back to his +room, shutting the door behind him. + + +III. + +We pass to a Saturday morning, two years later, and to William Geake's +cottage at the western end of Gantick village. + +Naomi had plucked three fowls and trussed them, and wrapping each in a +white napkin, had packed them in her basket with a dozen and a half of +eggs, a few pats of butter, and a nosegay or two of +garden-flowers--Sweet Williams, marigolds, and heart's-ease: for it was +market-day at Tregarrick. Then she put on boots and shawl, tied her +bonnet, and slung a second pair of boots across her arm: for the roads +were heavy and she would leave the muddy pair with a friend who lived at +the entrance of the town, not choosing to appear untidy as she walked up +the Fore Street. These arrangements made, she went to seek her husband, +who was busy planing a coffin-lid in the workshop behind the cottage, +and ruminating upon to-morrow's sermon. + +"You'll be about startin'," he said, lifting his head and pushing his +spectacles up over his eye-brows. + +Naomi set her basket down on his work-table, and drew her breath back +between her teeth--which is the Cornish mode of saying "Yes." "I want +you to make me a couple of skivers," she said. "Aun' Hambly sent over +word she'd a brace o' chicken for me to sell, an' I was to call for +'em: an' I'd be ashamed to sell a fowl the way she skivers it." + +William set down his plane, picked up an odd scrap of wood and cut out +the skewers with his pocket-knife; while Naomi watched with a smile +on her face. Whether or no William had recovered her soul, as he +promised, she had certainly given her heart into his keeping. The love +of such a widow, he found, is as the surrender of a maid, with wisdom +added. + +The skewers finished, he walked out through the house with her and +down the garden-path, carrying the basket as far as the gate. The +scent of pine-shavings came with him. Half-way down the path Naomi +turned aside and picking a sprig of Boy's Love, held it up for him +to smell. The action was trivial, but as he took the sprig they both +laughed, looking in each other's eyes. Then they kissed; and the staid +woman went her way down the road, while the staid man loitered for a +moment by the gate and watched her as she went. + +Now as he took his eyes away and glanced for an instant in the other +direction, he was aware of a man who had just come round the angle of +the garden hedge and, standing in the middle of the road, not a dozen +yards off, was also staring after his wife. + +This stranger was a broad-shouldered fellow in a suit of blue seaman's +cloth, the trousers of which were tucked inside a pair of Wellington +boots. His complexion was brown as a nut, and he wore rings in his +ears: but the features were British enough. A perplexed, ingratiating +and rather silly smile overspread them. + +The two men regarded each other for a bit, and then the stranger drew +nearer. + +"I do believe that was Na'mi," he said, nodding his head after the +woman's figure, that had not yet passed out of sight. + +William Geake opened his eyes wide and answered curtly, "Yes: that's +my wife--Naomi Geake. What then?" + +The man scratched his head, contemplating William as he might some +illegible sign-post set up at an unusually bothersome cross-road. + +"She keeps very han'some, I will say." His smile grew still more +ingratiating. + +"Was you wishin' to speak wi' her?" + +"Well, there! I was an' yet I wasn't. 'Tis terrible puzzlin'. You +don't know me, I dessay." + +"No, I don't." + +"I be called Abe Bricknell--A-bra-ham Bricknell. I used to be +Na'mi's husband, one time. There now"--with an accent of genuine +contrition--"I felt sure 'twould put you out." + +The tongue grew dry in William Geake's mouth, and the sunlight died +off the road before him. He stared at a blister in the green paint of +the garden-gate and began to peel it away slowly with his thumb-nail: +then, pulling out his handkerchief, picked away at the paint that had +lodged under the nail, very carefully, while he fought for speech. + +"I be altered a brave bit," said Naomi's first husband, still with his +silly smile. + +"Come into th' house," William managed to say at last; and turning, +led the way to the door. On his way he caught himself wondering why +the hum of the bees had never sounded so loudly in the garden before: +and this was all he could think about till he reached the doorstep. +Then he turned. + +"Th' Lord's ways be past findin' out," he said, passing a hand over +his eyes. + +"That's so: that's what _I_ say mysel'," the other assented +cheerfully, as if glad to find their wits jumping together. + +"Man!" William rounded on him fiercely. "What's kept 'ee, all these +years? Aw, man, man! do 'ee know what you've done?" + +"I'd a sun-stroke," said the wanderer, tapping his head and still +wearing his deprecatory smile; "a very bad sun-stroke. I sailed in the +_John S. Hancock_. I dessay Na'mi told you about that, eh?" + +"Get on wi' your tale." + +"Pete Hancock was cap'n. The vessel was called after his uncle, you +know, an' the Hancocks had a-bought up most o' the shares in her. +That's how Pete came to be cap'n. We sailed on a Friday--unlucky, I've +heard that is. But Pete said them that laid th' Atlantic cable had +started that day an' broke the spell. Pete had a lot o' tales, but he +made a poor cap'n; no head." + +"Look here," put in "William with desperate calm," I don't want to +know about Peter Hancock." + +"There's not much to know if you did. He made a very poor cap'n, +though it don't become one to say so, now he's gone. An affectionate +man, though, for all his short-comin's. The last time he brought his +vessel home from New Orleans he was in that pore to get back to his +wife an' childer, he ripped along the Gulf Stream and pretty well +ribbed the keelson out of her. Thought, I reckon, that since all the +shareholders belonged to his family th' expense wouldn' be grudged. +But I guess it made her tender. That's how she came to go down so +suddent." + +"She foundered?" + +"I'm comin' to that. We'd just run our nose into the tropics an' was +headin' down for Kingston Harbour--slippin' along at five knots easy +an' steady, an' not a sign of trouble. The time, so far as I can tell, +was somewhere near five bells in the middle watch. I'd turned in, +leavin' Pete on deck, an' was fast asleep; when all of a suddent a +great jolt sent me flyin' out o' the berth. As soon as I got my legs +an' wits again I was up on deck, and already the barque was settlin' +by the head like a burst crock. She'd crushed her breastbone in on a +sunken tramp of a derelict--a dismasted water-logged lump, that maybe +had been washin' about the Atlantic for twenty year' an' more before +her app'inted time came to drift across our fair-way an' settle the +hash o' the _John S. Hancock_. Sir, I reckon she went down inside o' +five minutes. We'd but bare time to get out one boat and push clear +o' the whirl of her. All hands jumped in; she was but a sixteen foot +boat, an' we loaded her down to the gun'l a'most. There was a brave +star-shine, but no moon. Cruel things happen 'pon the sea." + +He passed a hand over his eyes, as if to brush off the film his +sufferings had drawn across them. Then he pursued: + +"Cruel things happen 'pon the sea. We'd no food nor drink but a tin o' +preserved pears; Lord knows how that got there; but 'twas soon done. +Pete had a small compass, a gimcrack affair hangin' to his watch-chain, +an' we pulled by it west-sou'-west towards the nighest land, which we +made out must be some one or another o' the Leeward Islands; but 'twas +more to keep ourselves busy than for aught else: the boat was so low in +the water that even with the Trade to help us, we made but a mile an +hour, an' had to be balin' all day and all night. The third day, as the +sun grew hot, two o' the men went mad. We had to pitch 'em overboard an' +beat 'em off wi' the oars till they drowned: else they'd ha' sunk the +boat. This seemed to hang on Pete's mind, in a way. All the next night +he talked light-headed; said he could hear the dead men hailin' their +names. About midnight he jumped after 'em--to fetch 'em, he said--an' +was drowned. He took his compass with him, but that didn't make much +odds. The boat was lighter now, an' we hadn' to bale. Pretty soon I got +too weak to notice how the men went. I was lyin' wi' my head under the +stern sheets an' only pulled mysel' up, now an' then, to peer out over +the gun'l. I s'pose 'twas the splashes as the men went over that made me +do this. I don't know for certain. There was sharks about: cruel things +happen 'pon the sea. The boat was in a gashly cauch of blood too. One +chap--Jeff Tresawna it was: his mother lived over to Looe--had tried to +open a vein, to drink, an' had made a mess o't an' bled to death. Far as +I know there was no fightin' to eat one another, same as one hears tell +of now an' then. The men just went mad and jumped like sheep: 'twas a +reg'lar disease. Two would go quick, one atop of t'other; an' then +there'd be a long stillness, an' then a yellin' again an' two more +splashes, maybe three. All through it I was dozin', off an' on; an' I +reckon these things got mixed up an' repeated in my head: for our crew +was only sixteen all told, an' it seemed to me I'd heard scores go over. +Anyway I opened my eyes at last--night it was, an' all the stars +blazin'--an' the boat was empty all except me an' Jeff Tresawna, him +that had bled to death. He was lying up high in the bows, wi' his legs +stretched Out towards me along the bottom-boards. There was a twinkle o' +dew 'pon the thwarts an' gun'l, an' I managed to suck my shirt-sleeve, +that was wringin' wet, an' dropped off dozin' again belike. The nex' +thing I minded was a sort o' dream that I was home to Carne again, over +Pendower beach--that's where my father an' mother lived. I heard the +breakers quite plain. The sound of 'em woke me up. This was a little +after daybreak. The sound kept on after I'd opened my eyes, though not +so loud. I took another suck at my shirt-sleeve an' pulled myself up to +my knees by the thwart an' looked over. 'Twas the sound o' broken water, +sure enough, that I'd been hearing; an' 'twas breakin' round half a +dozen small islands, to leeward, between me an' the horizon. I call 'em +islands; but they was just rocks stickin' up from the sea, and birds on +'em in plenty; but otherwise, if you'll excuse the liberty, as bare as +the top o' your head." + +Geake nodded gravely, with set face. + +"I've heard since," went on the seaman, "that these were bits, so to +say, belongin' to the Leeward Islands, about eighty miles sou'west o' +St. Kitt's. Our boat must ha' driven past St. Kitt's, but just out o' +sight; or perhaps we'd passed a peep of it in the night-time. Well, as +you'll be guessin' the boat was pretty nigh to one o' these islands, +or I shouldn' ha' heard the wash. Half a mile off it was, I dessay, +an' a pretty big wash. This was caused by the current, no doubt, for +the wind was nex' to nothin', an' no swell around the boat. What's +more, the current was takin' us, broadside on, pretty well straight +for the rocks. There was no rudder an' only one oar left i' the boat; +an' that was broke off short at the blade. But I managed to slip it +over the starn an' made shift to keep her head straight. Her nose went +bump on the shore, an' then she swung round an' went drivin' past: me +not havin' strength left to put out a hand, much less to catch hold +an' stop the way on us. We might ha' driven past an' off to sea again, +if it hadn' been for a spit o' rock that reached out ahead. This +brought us up short, an' there we lay an' bump'd for a bit. I dessay +it took me half an hour to get out over the side: an' all the time I +kept hold o' the broken oar. I dunno why I did this: but it saved my +life afterwards. Hav'ee got such a thing as a drop o' cider in the +house?" + +"We go upon temperance principles here," said Geake. He rose and +brought a jug of water and a glass. + +"That'll do," said the wanderer, and helped himself. "Na'mi used to +take a glass o' beer wi' her meals, I remember. Well, as I was agoin' +to tell you, havin' got out o' the boat, I'd just sense enough left to +clamber up above high-water mark, an' there I sat starin' stupid-like +an' wonderin' how I'd done it. Down below, the boat was heavin' i' the +wash an' joltin' 'pon the rocks, an' I watched her--bump, bump, up an' +down, up an' down--wi' Jeff jamm'd by the shoulders i' the bows, and +glazin' up at me wi' a silly blank face, like as if he couldn' make it +all out. As the tide rose him up nearer, I crawled away further up. +Seemed to me he an' the boat was after me like a sick dream, an' I +grinned every time the timbers gave an extry loud crack. At last her +bottom was stove, an' she filled very quiet an' went down. The wind +was fresher by this an' some heavy clouds comin' up. Then it rained. +I don't rightly know if this was the same day or no: can't fit in the +days an' nights. But it rained heavy. There was a quill-feather lyin' +close by my hand--the rock was strewed wi' feathers an' the birds' +droppin's--an' with it I tried to get at the rain-water that was +caught in the crannies o' the rocks. While I was searchin' about I +came across an egg. It was stinkin', but I ate it. After that, feelin' +a bit stronger, I'd a mind to fix up the oar for a mark, in case any +vessel passed near an' me asleep or too weak to make a signal. I found +a handy chink i' the rock to plant it in, an' a rovin' pain I had in +my stomach while I was fixin' it. That was the egg, I dessay. An' my +head in a maze, too: but I'd sense enough to think now what a fool +I was not to have took Jeff's shirt off'n, to serve me for a flag. +Hows'ever, my own bein' wringin' wet, an' the sun pretty strong just +then, I slipped it off an' hitched it atop o' the oar to dry an' be a +flag at the same time, till I could rig up some kind o' streamer, out +o' the seaweed. An' then I was forced to vomit. And that's about the +last thing, Mister Geake, I can mind doin'. 'Tis all foolishness after +that. They tell me that a 'Merican schooner, the _Shawanee_, sighted +my shirt flappin', an' sent a boat an' took me off an' landed me at +New Orleens. My head was bad--oh, very bad--an' they put me in a +'sylum an' cured me. But they took eight year' over it, an' I doubt if +'tis much of a job after all. I wasn' bad all the time, I must tell +you, sir; but 'tis only lately my mem'ry would work any further back +'n the wreck o' the barque. Everything seemed to begin an' end wi' +that. 'Tis about a year back that some visitors came to the 'sylum. +There was a lady in the party, an' something in her face, when she +spoke to me, put me in mind o' Na'mi, an' I remembered I was a married +man. Inside of a fortnight, part by thinkin'--'tis hard work still +for me to think--part by dreamin', I'd a-worried it all out. I was +betterin' fast by that. Soon as I was well enough to be discharged, I +worked my passage home in a grain ship, the _Druid_, o' Liverpool. I +was reckonin' all the way back that Na'mi'd be main glad to see me +agen. But now I s'pose she won't." + +"It'll come nigh to killin' her." + +"I dessay, now, you two have got to be very fond? She used to be a +partic'lar lovin' sort o' woman." + +"I love her more 'n heaven!" William broke out; and then cowered as if +he half expected to be struck with lightning for the words. + +"I heard of her havin' married, down at the Fifteen Balls, at Troy. I +dropped in there to pick up the news." + +"What! You've been tellin' folks who you be!" + +"Not a word. First of all I was minded to play off a little surprise +'pon old Toms, the landlord, who didn' know me from Adam. But hearin' +this, just as I was a-leadin' up to my little joke, I thought maybe +'twould annoy Na'mi. She used to be very strict in some of her +notions." + +William Geake took two hasty turns up and down the little parlour. His +Bible, in which before breakfast he had been searching for a text, +lay open on the side table. Behind its place on the shelf was a +small skivet he had let into the wall; and in that drawer was stored +something over twenty-five pounds, the third of his savings. Geake +kept a bank-account, and the balance lay at interest with Messrs. +Climo and Hodges, of St. Austell. But he had the true countryman's +aversion to putting all his eggs in one basket; and although Messrs. +Climo and Hodges were safe as the Bank of England, preferred to keep +this portion of his wealth in his own stocking. He closed the Bible +hastily; rammed it back, upside down, in its place; then took it out +again, and stood holding it in his two hands and trembling. He was +living in sin: he was minded to sin yet deeper. And yet what had he +done to deserve Naomi in comparison with the unspeakable tribulations +this simple mariner had suffered? Sure, God must have preserved the +fellow with especial care, and of wise purpose brought him through +shipwreck, famine, and madness home to his lawful wife. The man had +made Naomi a good husband. Had William Geake made her a better? +(Husband?)--here he dropped the Bible down on the table again as if it +burned his fingers. Whatever had to be done must be done quickly. Here +was the innocent wrecker of so much happiness hanging on his lips for +the next word, watching wistfully for his orders, like any spaniel +dog. And Naomi would be back before nightfall. God was giving him no +time: it was unfair to hustle a man in this way. In the whirl of his +thoughts he seemed to hear Naomi's footfall drawing nearer and nearer +home. He could almost upbraid the Almighty here for leaving him and +Naomi childless. A child would have made the temptation irresistible. + +"I wish a'most that I'd never called, if it puts you out so terrible," +was the wanderer's plaintive remark after two minutes of silent +waiting. + +This sentence settled it. The temptation _was_ irresistible. Geake +unlocked the skivet, plunged a hand in and banged down a fistful of +notes on the table. + +"Here," said he; "here's five-an'-twenty pound'. You shall have it all +if you'll go straight out o' this door an' back to America." + + +IV. + +Half-an-hour later, William Geake was standing by his garden-gate +again. Every now and then he glanced down the road towards St. +Austell, and after each glance resumed his nervous picking at the +blister of green paint that had troubled him earlier in the day. He +was face to face with a new and smaller, but sufficiently vexing, +difficulty. Abe Bricknell had gone, taking with him the five +five-pound notes. So far so good, and cheap at the price. But the +skivet was empty: and the day was Saturday: and every Saturday +evening, as regularly as he wound up the big eight-day clock in the +kitchen, Naomi and he would sit down and count over the money. True he +had only to go to St. Austell and Messrs. Climo and Hodges would let +him draw five new notes. The numbers would be different, and Naomi +(prudent woman) always took note of the numbers: but some explanation +might be invented. The problem was: How to get to St. Austell and back +before Naomi's return? The distance was too great to be walked in +the time; and besides, the coffin must be ready by nightfall. He had +promised it; he was known for a man of his word; and owing to the +morning's interruption it would be a tough job to finish, at the +best. There was no help for it; and--so easy is the descent of +Avernus--Geake's unaccustomed wits were already wandering in a +wilderness of improbable falsehoods, when he heard the sound of wheels +up the road, and Long Oliver came along in Farmer Lear's red-wheeled +trap and behind Farmer Lear's dun-coloured mare. As he drew near at a +trot he eyed Geake curiously, and for a moment seemed inclined to pull +up, but thought better of it, and was passing with no more than a nod +of the head and "good-day." + +It was unusual, though, to see Long Oliver driving a horse and trap; +and Geake, moreover, had a sudden notion. + +"Good-mornin'," he answered; "whither bound?" + +"St. Austell. I've a bit of business to do, so I'm takin' a holiday; +in style, as you see." + +"I wonder now," Geake suggested, forgetting all about the coffin, "if +you'd give me a lift. I was just thinkin' this moment that I'd a bit +o' business there that had clean slipped my mind this week." + +This was transparently false to any one acquainted with Geake's +methodical habits. Long Oliver screwed up his eyes. + +"Can't, I'm afraid. I'm engaged to take up old Missus Oke an' her +niece at Tippet's corner; an' the niece's box. The gal's goin' in to +St. Austell, into service. So there's no room. But if there's any +little message I can take--" + +"When'll you be back?" + +"Somewhere's about five I'll be passin'." + +"Would 'ee mind waitin' a moment? I've a cheque I want cashed at Climo +and Hodges for a biggish sum: but you'm a man I can trust to bring +back the money safe." + +"Sutt'nly," said Long Oliver. + +Geake went into the house and wrote a short letter to the bankers. +He asked them to send back by messenger, and in return for cheque +enclosed, the sum of twenty-five pounds, in five new five-pound notes. +He was aware (he said) that the balance of his running account was but +a pound or two: but as they held something over fifty pounds of his on +deposit, he felt sure they would oblige him and enable him to meet a +sudden call. + +"Twenty-five pounds is the sum," he explained; "an' you must be sure +to get it in five-pound notes--_new five-pound notes_. You'll not +forget that?" He closed the envelope and handed it up to Long Oliver, +who buttoned it in his breast-pocket. + +"You shall have it, Mr. Geake, by five o'clock this evenin'," said he, +giving the reins a shake on the mare's back; "so 'long!" and he rattled +off. + +A mile, and a trifle more, beyond Geake's cottage, he came in sight +of a man clad in blue sailor's cloth, trudging briskly ahead. Long +Oliver's lips shaped themselves as if to whistle; but he made no sound +until he overtook the pedestrian, when he pulled up, looked round in +the man's face, and said-- + +"Abe Bricknell!" + +The sailor came to a sudden halt, and went very white in the face. + +"How do you know my name?" he asked, uneasily. + +"'Recognised 'ee back in Troy, an' borrowed this here trap to drive +after 'ee. Get up alongside. I've summat to say to 'ee." + +Bricknell climbed up without a word, and they drove along together. + +"Where was you goin'?" Long Oliver asked, after a bit. + +"To Charlestown." + +"To look for a ship?" + +"Yes." + +"Goin' back to America?" + +"Yes." + +"You've been callin' on William Geake: an' you didn' find Naomi at +home." + +"Geake don't want it known." + +"That's likely enough. You've got twenty-five pound' o' his in your +pocket." + +Abe Bricknell involuntarily put up a hand to his breast. + +"Ay, it's there," said Long Oliver, nodding. "It's odd now, but I've +got twenty-five pound in gold in _my_ pocket; an' I want you to swop." + +"I don't take ye, Mister--" + +"Long Oliver, I'm called in common. Maybe you remembers me?" + +"Why, to be sure! I thought I minded your face. But still I don't take +your meanin' azactly." + +"I didn' suppose you would. So I'm goin' to tell 'ee. Fourteen year' +back I courted Naomi, an' she used me worse 'n a dog. Twelve year' +back she married you. Nine year' back you went to sea in the _John S. +Hancock_, an' was wrecked off the Leeward Isles an' cast up on a spit +o' rock. I'd been hangin' about New Orleens, just then, at a loose +end, an' bein' in want o' cash, took a scamper in the _Shawanee_, a +dirty tramp of a schooner knockin' in an' out and peddlin' notions +among the West Indy Islanders. As you know we caught sight o' your +signal an' took you off, an' you went to a mad-house. You was clean +off your head an' didn' know me from Adam; an' I never let on that I +knew you or the ship you'd sailed in. 'Seemed to me the hand o' God +was in it, an' I saw my way to cry quits wi' Naomi." + +"I don't see." + +"I don't suppose you do. But 'twas this way:--Naomi (thinks I) 'll be +givin' this man up afore long. She's a takeable woman, an' by-'n-bye, +some new man'll set eyes on her. Then, thinks I, her banns'll be +called in Church, an' I'll be there an' forbid 'em. Do 'ee see now?" + +"That was very clever o' you," replied the simple seaman, and added +with obvious sincerity, "I'm sure I should never ha' thought 'pon +anything so clever as that. But why didn' you carry it out?" + +"Because God Almighty was cleverer. Times an' times I'd pictured it up +in my head how 'twould all work out; an' the parson in his surplice +stuck all of a heap; an' the heads turnin' to look; an' the women +faintin'. An' when the moment came for a man to claim her, what d'ye +think she did? But there, a head like yours 'd never guess--_why she +went to a Registry Office, an' there weren't no banns at all_. That +overcame me. I seed the wisdom o' Providence from that hour. I be a +converted man. An' I'm damned if I'll let you come along an' upset the +apple-cart after all these years. Can 'ee write?" + +"Tolerable, though I'm no hand at spellin'." + +"Very well. We'll have a drink together at St. Austell, an' while +we're there you shall do up Geake's notes in an envelope with a note +sayin' your compliments, but on second thoughts you couldn't think o' +takin' his money." + +Bricknell's face fell somewhat. + +"You gowk! You'll have twenty-five pound' o' mine in exchange: solid +money, an' my own earnin's. I've more 'n that in my pocket here." + +"But I don't see why _you_ should want to give me money." + +"An' you'm too mad to see if I explained. 'Tis a matter o' conscience, +an' you may take it at that. When the letter's wrote--best not sign +it, by the way, for fear of accidents--you give it to me an' I'll see +Geake gets it to-night. After that's written I'll pay your fare to +Liverpool, an' then you'll get a vessel easy. Now I see your mouth +openin' and makin' ready to argue--" + +"I was goin' to say, Long Oliver, that you seem to be actin' very +noble, now: but 'twas a bit hard on _me_, your holdin' your tongue as +you did." + +"So 'twas, so 'twas. I reckon some folks is by nature easy forgotten, +an' you'm one. If that's your character, I hope to gracious you'm +goin' to keep it up. An' twenty-five pound' is a heap o' money for +such a man as you." + +"It is," the wanderer asserted. "Ay, I feel that." + +At twenty minutes to five that evening, Long Oliver pulled up again by +the green garden-gate. William Geake from his workshop had caught the +sound of the mare's hoofs three minutes before, and awaited him. + +"One, two, three, four, five." The notes were counted out +deliberately. Long Oliver, having been thanked, gathered up his reins +and suddenly set them down again. + +"Dear me," said he, "if I hadn' almost forgot! I've a letter for 'ee, +too." + +"Eh?" + +"Iss. A kind of a sailor-like lookin' chap came up to me i' the Half +Moon yard as I was a takin' out the mare. 'Do you come from Gantick?' +says he, seein' no doubt Farmer Lear's name 'pon the cart. 'There or +thereabouts,' says I. 'Know Mister W. Geake?' says he. 'Well,' says +I. 'Then, if you're passin', I wish you'd give 'en this here letter,' +says he, an' that's all 'e said." + +"I wonder who 'twas," said Geake. But his face was white. + +"Don't know 'en by sight. Said 'e was in a great hurry for to catch +the up train. Which puts me i' mind I must be movin' on. Good-night +t'ye, neighbour!" + +As soon as he had turned the corner, Geake opened the letter. + + * * * * * + +When Naomi returned, half-an-hour later, she found him standing at the +gate as if he had spent the day there: as, indeed, he might have, for +all the work done to the coffin. + +"I must bide up to-night an' finish that job," he said, when they were +indoors and she began asking how in the world he had been spending his +time. "I've been worryin' mysel' all day." + +"It's those sermons agen," Naomi decided. "They do your head no good, +an' I wish you'd give up preachin'." + +"Now that's just what I'm goin' to do," he answered, pushing the +Bible far into the shelf till its edges knocked on the wood of the +skivet-drawer. + + + + +THE PRINCE OF ABYSSINIA'S POST-BAG. + + +I.--AN INTERRUPTION: + +_From Algernon Dexter, writer of Vers de Societe, London, to Rasselas, +Prince of Abyssinia_. + + +My dear prince,--Our correspondence has dwindled of late. Indeed, I do +not remember to have heard from you since I wrote to acknowledge your +kindness in standing godfather to my boy Jack (now rising two), and +the receipt of the beautiful scimitar which, as a christening present, +accompanied your consent. Still I do not forget the promise you +exacted from "Q." and myself after lunch at the Mitre, on the day when +we took our bachelors' degrees together--that if in our paths through +life we happened upon any circumstance that seemed to throw fresh +light on the dark, complex workings of the human heart, or at least +likely to prove of interest to a student of his fellow men, we would +write it down and despatch it to you, under cover of The Negus. During +the months of my engagement to Violet these communications of mine +(you will allow) were frequent enough: since our marriage they have +grown shamefully fewer. Possibly I lose alertness while I put on +flesh: it is the natural hebetudus of happiness. "Q."--who is never +seen now upon London stones--no doubt sends you a plenty of what +passes for news in that parish which it is his humour to prefer to the +Imperial City. But, believe me, the very finest romance is still to be +had in London: and to prove this I am going to tell you a story that, +upon my soul, Prince, will make you sit up. + +Until last night the Seely-Hardwickes were a force in this capital. +They were three,--Seely-Hardwicke himself, who owned a million or +more, and to my knowledge drank Hollands and smoked threepenny Returns +in his Louis Quinze library; Mrs. Seely-Hardwicke, as beautiful as +the moon and clever to sinfulness; and Billy, their child, aged +seven-and-a-half. To-day their whereabouts would be as difficult to +find as that of the boy in Mrs. Hemans's ballad. You jump to the guess +that they have lost their money. You are wrong. + +It was amassed in the canned-fruit trade, which, I understand, +does not fluctuate severely, though doubtless in the last instance +dependent on the crops. Seely-Hardwicke and his wife were ready to +lose any amount of it at cards, which accounts for a measure of their +success. It had been found (with Mrs. Seely-Hardwicke) somewhere +on the Pacific Slope, by a destitute Yorkshireman who had tired of +driving rivets on the Clyde and betaken himself across the Atlantic, +for a change, in front of a furnace some thirty-odd feet below decks. +Of his adventures in the Great Republic nothing is known but this, +that he drove into the silence of its central plain at the tail of a +traction engine and emerged on its western shore, three years later, +with a wife, a child and a growing pile. With this pile there grew +a desire to spend it in his own country; and the family landed at +Liverpool on Billy's sixth birthday. I think their double-barrelled +name must have been invented by Mrs. Seely-Hardwicke on the voyage. + +I first made Billy's acquaintance in the Row, where a capable groom +was teaching him to ride a very small skewbald pony. This happened in +the week after our Jack was born, when I was perforce companionless: +but as soon as Violet could ride again, she too fell a victim to the +red curls and seraphic face of this urchin. And so, when Billy's +mother began, later in the season, to appear in the Row, Billy (now +promoted to a larger pony) introduced us in his own fashion and we +quickly made friends. By this time she had been "presented," and was +fairly on her feet in London: and henceforward her career resembled +not so much a conquest as the progress of a Roman Emperor. I am not +referring to the vulgar achievements of mere wealth. Wherever these +people went, to be sure, they left outposts--a Mediterranean villa, +a deer forest behind the Grampians, small Saturday-to-Monday +establishments beside the Thames and the North Sea, and furnished +abodes on short leases near Newmarket and Ascot Heaths; not to mention +nomadic trifles such as houseboats and yachts. Any one with money can +purchase these, and any one having a cook can fill them with people +of a sort. The quality of Mrs. Seely-Hardwicke's success was seen in +this, that from the first she knew none but the right people: and +though, as her circle widened, it included names of higher and yet +higher lustre, yet (if I may press a somewhat confused metaphor) its +rings were concentric and hardly distinct. She never, I believe, was +forced to drop an old acquaintance because she had found a new one. +The just estimate of our Western manners which you, my dear Prince, +formed at Balliol, will enable you to grasp the singularity of such a +triumph. Its rapidity, I must admit, perplexes me still. But in +those old days we studied Arnold Toynbee overmuch and neglected +the civilising influences of the card-table. By the time the +Seely-Hardwickes took their house near Hyde Park Corner, philanthropy +was beginning to stale and our leaders to perceive that the +rejuvenation of society must be effected (if at all) not by bestowing +money on the poor, but by losing it to the rich. Seely-Hardwicke +himself was understood to spend most of his time in the City, looking +after the interests of canned fruits and making small fortunes out of +his redundant cash. + +You will readily understand that we soon came to see little of our new +acquaintances. A small private income and the trivial wage commanded +by society verses in this country (so different in many respects from +Abyssinia) confined us to a much narrower orbit. But we were invited +pretty often to their dinners, and the notes I have given you were +taken on these occasions. Last night there were potentates at Mrs. +Seely-Hardwicke's--several imported, and one of British growth. +To-day--but you shall hear it in the fewest words. + +Three days back, Billy failed to turn up in the Row. We met his mother +riding alone and asked the reason. She told us the child had a cough +and something of a sore throat and she thought it wiser to keep him at +home. + +On the next day, and yesterday, he was still absent. In the evening we +went to the Seely-Hardwicke's dance. The thing was wonderfully done. +An exuberant vegetation that suggested a virgin forest was qualified +by the presence of several hundred people. It was impossible to dance +or to feel lonely; and our hostess looked radiant as the moon in +the reflected rays of her success. We shook hands with her and were +swallowed in the crowd. + +About half-an-hour later, as I watched the crush from a recess beside +an open window and listened to the waltz that the band was playing, +Seely-Hardwicke himself thrust his way towards me. He was crumpled and +perspiring copiously: but the glory of it all sat on his blunt face +yet more openly than on his wife's lovely features. + +"I've not been here above ten minutes," he explained. "Had to run +down to Liverpool suddenly last night, and only reached King's Cross +something less 'n an hour back. Quick work." + +"How's Billy?" I asked, after a few commonplace words. + +"Off colour, still. I went up to see him, just now: but the nurse +wouldn't let him be disturbed; said he was sleepin'. Best thing for +him. You'll see him out, as lively as a lark, to-morrow." + +"And getting stopped, as usual, by the police for expounding his idea +of a canter in the Ladies' Mile." + +He laughed. "Hey? I like that. I like spirit. He looks fragile--he's +like his mother for that--but they're game every inch, the pair of +'em. You may think me silly, but I don't know that I can last out this +without runnin' up to have a look at him. I haven't seen him for two +days." + +I believe he was on the point of launching out into any number +of fatherly confidences. But at this point he was claimed by an +acquaintance some ten paces off; and, plunging among his guests, was +lost to me. + +I cannot tell you, my dear Prince, how much time elapsed between this +and the arrival of the home-grown Potentate--as you must allow me to +call him until we meet and I can whisper his august name. But I know +that shortly after his arrival, while I still loafed in my recess and +hoped that Violet would soon drift in my direction and allow herself +to be taken home, the throng around me began to thin in a most curious +manner. How it happened--whence it started and how it spread--I cannot +tell you. Only it seemed as if something began to be whispered, and +the whisper melted the crowd like sugar. Almost before I grew aware +of what was happening, I could see the far side of the room, and the +Potentate there by Mrs. Seely-Hardwicke's side; and could mark their +faces. His was cast in a polite, but slightly rigid smile. His eyes +wandered. That supernumerary sense which all his family possesses had +warned him that something was wrong. Mrs. Seely-Hardwicke's face was +white as chalk, though her eyes returned his smile. + +At this moment Violet came towards me. + +"Take me home," she commanded, but under her breath. As she said it +she shivered. + +"What on earth is the matter?" I demanded. + +She pulled me by the sleeve. I looked up and saw a white-haired man, +of military carriage, walking towards His Royal Highness. He came to +a halt, a pace off, and stood as if anxious to speak. I saw also +that Mrs. Seely-Hardwicke would not allow him a chance, but talked +desperately. I saw groups of people, up and down the room, regarding +her even as we. And then the door was flung open. + +Seely-Hardwicke came running in with Billy in his arms--or rather, +with Billy's body. The child had died at four that afternoon, of +diphtheria. + +I got Violet out of the room as soon as I could. The man's language +was frightful--filthy. And his wife straightened herself up and +answered him back. It was a babel of obscene Frisco curses: but I +remember one clear sentence of hers from the din-- + +"You--, you! And d'ye think _my_ heart won't go to pieces when my +stays are cut?" + + * * * * * + +All the way home Violet kept sobbing and crying out that she was never +driven so slowly. She was convinced that some harm had happened to +her own Jack. She ran up to the night-nursery at once and woke your +god-child out of a healthy sleep. And he arose in his full strength +and yelled. + + +II.--THE GREAT FIRE ON FREETHY'S QUAY. + +_From "Q_." + + +Troy Town. + +New Year's Eve, 1892. + +MY DEAR PRINCE,--The New Year is upon us, a season which the devout +Briton sets aside for taking stock of his short-comings. I know not if +Prester John introduced this custom among the Abyssinians: but we find +it very convenient here. + +In particular I have been vexing myself to-day over the gradual +desuetude of our correspondence. Doubtless the fault is mine: and +doubtless I compare very poorly with Dexter, whose letters are bound +to be bright and frequent. But Dexter clings to London; and from +London, as from your own Africa, _semper aliquid novi_. But of Troy +during these twelve months there has been little or nothing to delate. +The small port has been enjoying a period of quiet which even the +General Election, last summer, did not seriously disturb. As you know, +the election turned on the size of mesh proper to be used in the +drift-net fishery. We wore favours of red, white and blue, symbolising +our hatred of the mesh favoured by Mr. Gladstone; and carried our man. +Had other constituencies as sternly declined to fritter away their +voting strength upon side issues, Lord Salisbury would now be in power +with a solid majority at his back. + +My purpose, however, is not to talk of politics, but to give you +a short description of an event which has greatly excited us, and +redeemed from monotony (though at the eleventh hour) the year Eighteen +ninety-two. I refer to the great fire on Freethy's Quay, where Mr. Wm. +Freethy has of late been improving his timber-store with a number of +the newest mechanical inventions; among others, with a steam engine +which operates on a circular saw, and impels it to cut up oak poles +(our winter fuel) with incredible rapidity. It was here that the +outbreak occurred, on Christmas Eve--of all days in the year--between +five and six o'clock in the afternoon. + +But I should first tell you that our town has enjoyed a long immunity +from fires; and although we possess a Volunteer Fire Brigade, at once +efficient and obliging, and commanded by Mr. Patrick Sullivan (an +Irishman), the men have had little or no opportunity of combating +their sworn foe. The Brigade was founded in the early autumn of 1873, +and presented by public subscription with a handsome manual engine and +a wooden house to contain it. This house, painted a bright vermilion, +is a conspicuous object at the top of the hill above the town, as +you turn off towards the Rope-walk. The firemen, of course, wear an +appropriate uniform, with brazen helmets and shoulder-straps and a +neat axe apiece, suspended in a leathern case from the waistband. But +the spirit of make-believe has of necessity animated all their public +exercise, if I except the 13th of April, 1879, when a fire broke out +in the back premises of Mr. Tippett, carpenter. His shop was (and +is) situated in the middle of the town, and in those days a narrow +gatehouse gave, or rather prevented, access to the town on either +side. These houses stood, one at the extremity of North Street, beside +the Ferry Slip, the other at the south end of the Fore Street, where +it turns the corner by the Ship Inn and mounts Lostwithiel Hill. With +their low-browed arches, each surmounted by a little chamber for the +toll-keeper, they recalled in an interesting manner the days when +local traffic was carried on solely by means of pack-horses; but by an +unfortunate oversight their straitness had been left out of account by +the donors of the fire-engine, which stuck firmly in the passage below +Lostwithiel Hill and could be drawn neither forwards nor back, thus +robbing the Brigade of the result of six years' practice. For the +engine filled up so much of the thoroughfare that the men could +neither climb over nor round it, but were forced to enter the town by +a circuitous route and find, to their chagrin, Mr. Tippett's premises +completely gutted. For three days all our traffic entered and left +the town perforce by the north side; but two years after, on the +completion of the railway line to Troy, these obstructive gatehouses +were removed, to give passage to the new Omnibus. + +Let me proceed to the story of our more recent alarm. At twenty +minutes to five, precisely, on Christmas Eve, Mr. Wm. Freethy left his +engine-room by the door which opens on the Quay; turned the key, which +he immediately pocketed; and proceeded towards his mother's house, at +the western end of the town, where he invariably takes tea. The wind +was blowing strongly from the east, where it had been fixed for three +days, and the thermometer stood at six degrees below freezing. +Indeed, I had remarked, early in the morning, that an icicle of quite +respectable length (for a small provincial town), depended from the +public water-tap under the Methodist Chapel. About twenty minutes +after Mr. Freethy's departure, some children, who were playing about +the Quay, observed dense volumes of smoke (as they thought) issuing +from under the engine-room door. They gave the alarm. I happened to +be in the street at the time, purchasing muscatels for the Christmas +snap-dragon, and, after rushing up to the Quay to satisfy myself, +proceeded with all haste to Mr. Sullivan, Captain of the Brigade. + +I found him at tea, but behaving in a somewhat extraordinary manner. +It is well known that Mr. and Mrs. Sullivan suffer occasionally from +domestic disagreement, due, in great measure, to the lady's temper. +Mr. Sullivan was sitting at the table with a saucer inverted upon his +head, a quantity of tea-leaves matted in his iron-grey hair, and their +juice trickling down his face. On hearing my alarming intelligence, he +said: + +"I had meant to sit there for some time; indeed, until my little boy +returns with the Vicar, whom I have sent for to witness the effects of +my wife's temper. I was sitting down to tea when I heard a voice +in the street calling 'Whiting!'--a fish of which I am extremely +fond--and ran out to procure threepenny worth. On my return, my wife +here--I suppose, because she objects to clean the fish--assaulted me +in the manner you behold." + +With praiseworthy public spirit, however, Mr. Sullivan forewent his +revenge, and, having cleansed his hair, ran with all speed to get out +the fire-engine. + +Returning to the Quay, at about 5 p.m., I found a large crowd +assembled before the engine-room door, from which the vapour was +pouring in dense clouds. The Brigade came rattling up with their +manual in less than ten minutes. As luck would have it, this was just +the hour when the mummers, guise dancers and darkey-parties were +dressing up for their Christmas rounds; and the appearance +presented by the crowd in the deepening dusk would, in less serious +circumstances, have been extremely diverting. Two of the firemen wore +large moustaches of burnt cork beneath their helmets, and another (who +was cast to play the Turkish Knight) had found no time to remove the +bright blue dye he had been applying to his face. The pumpmaker had +come as Father Christmas, and the blacksmith (who was forcing the +door) looked oddly in an immense white hat, a flapping collar and a +suit of pink chintz with white bone buttons. He had not accomplished +his purpose when I heard a shout, and, looking up the street, saw Mr. +Wm. Freethy approaching at a brisk run. He is forty-three years old, +and his figure inclines to rotundity. The wind, still in the east, +combined with the velocity of his approach to hold his coat-tails in a +line steadily horizontal. In his right hand he carried a large slice +of his mother's home-made bread, spread with yellow plum jam; a +semicircular excision of the crumb made it plain that he had been +disturbed in his first mouthful. The crowd parted and he advanced to +the door; laid his slice of bread and jam upon the threshold; searched +in his fob pocket for the key; produced it; turned it in the lock; +picked up his bread and jam again; opened the door; took a bite; and +plunged into the choking clouds that immediately enveloped his person. + +While the concourse waited, in absolute silence, the atmosphere of the +engine-house cleared as if by magic, and Mr. Wm. Freethy was visible +again in the converging rays of six bull's-eye lanterns held forward +by six members of the Fire Brigade. One hand still held the bread and +jam; the other grasped a stop-cock which he had that instant turned, +shutting off the outpour of steam we had taken for smoke. Some one +tittered; but the general laugh was prevented by a resounding splash. +The recoiling crowd had backed against the fire-engine outside, and +inadvertently thrust it over the Quay's edge into two fathoms of +water! + +We left it there till the tide should turn, and forming into +procession, marched back through the streets. I never witnessed +greater enthusiasm. I do not believe Troy held a man, woman, or child +that did not turn out of doors to cheer and laugh. Presently a verse +sprang up:-- + + "_The smoke came out at Freethy's door, + An' down came Sullivan with his corps. + 'My dears,' says Freethy,' don't 'ee pour! + For the smoke be steam an' nothin' more-- + But what hav' 'ee done wi' the En-gine_?'" + +And the firemen, by shouting it as heartily as the rest, robbed the +epigram of all its sting. + +But the best of it, my dear Prince, was still to come. For at +half-past eight (that being the time of low water) a salvage corps +assembled and managed to drag the engine ashore by means of stout +tackle hitched round the granite pedestal that stands on Freethy's +Quay to commemorate the visit of Queen Victoria and Prince Albert, who +landed there on the 8th of September, 1846. The guise-dancers paraded +it through the streets until midnight, when they gave it over to the +carollers, who fed it with buckets; and as the poor machine was but +little damaged, brisk jets of water were made to salute the citizens' +windows simultaneously with the season's holy songs. I, who have a +habit of sleeping with my window open, received an icy shower-bath +with the opening verse of "Christians, awake! Salute the Happy +Morn...." + +On Saturday next the Brigade assembles for a Grand Salvage Banquet in +the Town Hall. There will be speeches. Accept, my dear Prince, all +possible good wishes for the New Year.... + +"Q." + + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Delectable Duchy +by Arthur Thomas Quiller-Couch + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DELECTABLE DUCHY *** + +***** This file should be named 12277.txt or 12277.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/2/2/7/12277/ + +Produced by Ted Garvin, Josephine Paolucci and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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