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diff --git a/old/22274-h.htm.2021-01-25 b/old/22274-h.htm.2021-01-25 new file mode 100644 index 0000000..7f66940 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/22274-h.htm.2021-01-25 @@ -0,0 +1,3073 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + Julia and Her Romeo: a Chronicle of Castle Barfield, by David Christie + Murray + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Julia And Her Romeo: A Chronicle Of Castle +Barfield, by David Christie Murray + +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: Julia And Her Romeo: A Chronicle Of Castle Barfield + From "Schwartz" by David Christie Murray + +Author: David Christie Murray + +Release Date: August 8, 2007 [EBook #22274] +Last Updated: September 16, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JULIA AND HER ROMEO *** + + + + +Produced by David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h1> + JULIA AND HER ROMEO:<br /> A CHRONICLE OF CASTLE BARFIELD + </h1> + <h2> + By David Christie Murray + </h2> + <h4> + Author Of ‘Aunt Rachel,’ ‘The Weaker Vessel,’ Etc. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h2> + Contents + </h2> + <table summary="" style="margin-right: auto; margin-left: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> I </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> II </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> III </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> IV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> V </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> VI </a> + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + I + </h2> + <p> + In the year eighteen hundred and twenty, and for many years before and + after, Abel Reddy farmed his own land at Perry Hall End, on the western + boundaries of Castle Barfield. He lived at Perry Hall, a ripe-coloured old + tenement of Elizabethan design, which crowned a gentle eminence and looked + out picturesquely on all sides from amongst its neighbouring trees. It had + a sturdier aspect in its age than it could have worn when younger, for its + strength had the sign-manual of time upon it, and even its hoary lichens + looked as much like a prophecy as a record. + </p> + <p> + A mile away, but also within the boundaries of Castle Barfield parish, + there stood another house upon another eminence: a house of older date + than Perry Hall, though of less pleasing and picturesque an air. The long + low building was of a darkish stone, and had been altered and added to so + often that it had at last arrived at a complex ugliness which was not + altogether displeasing. The materials for its structure had all been drawn + at different periods from the same stone quarry, and the chequered look of + new bits and old bits had a hint of the chess-board. Here Samson Mountain + dwelt on his own land in the midst of his own people. + </p> + <p> + The Mountain Farm, as it was called, and had been called time out of mind, + was separated from the Perry Hall Farm by a very shallow and narrow brook. + The two houses were built as far apart from each other as they could be, + whilst remaining in their own boundaries, as if the builder of the later + one had determined to set as great a distance as he could between his + neighbour and himself. And as a matter of fact the Reddys and the + Mountains were a sort of Capulets and Montagues, and had hated each other + for generations. Samson and Abel kept up the ancient grudge in all its + ancient force. They were of the same age within a week or two, had studied + at the same school, and had fought there; had at one time courted the same + girl, had sat within sight of each other Sunday after Sunday and year + after year in the parish church, had each buried father and mother in the + parish churchyard, and in the mind of each the thought of the other + rankled like a sore. + </p> + <p> + The manner of their surrendering their common courtship was characteristic + of their common hatred. Somewhere about the beginning of this century a + certain Miss Jenny Rusker, of Castle Barfield, was surrounded by quite a + swarm of lovers. She was pretty, she was well-to-do, for her time and + station, she was accomplished—playing the harp (execrably), working + samplers in silk and wool with great diligence and exactitude, and having + read a prodigious number of plays, poems, and romances. What this lady’s + heart forged that her mouth did vent, but no pretty young woman ever + looked or sounded foolish to the eyes or ears of her lovers. Mountain and + Eeddy were among her solicitors. She liked them both, and had not quite + made up her mind as to which, if either of them, she would choose, when + suddenly the knowledge of the other’s occasional presence in her + sitting-room made the house odious to each, and they surrendered the chase + almost at the same hour. Miss Jenny satisfied herself with a cousin of her + own, married without changing her name, had children, was passably happy, + as the world goes, and lived to be a profoundly sentimental but inveterate + widow. Mountain and Eeddy married girls they would not otherwise have + chosen, and were passably happy also, except when the sore of ancient + hatred was inflamed by a chance meeting on the corn exchange or an + accidental passage of the eyes at church. They had no better authority for + hating each other than that their fathers had hated each other before + them. The fathers had the authority of the grandfathers, and they, that of + the greatgrandfathers. + </p> + <p> + It was Saturday afternoon. There was a bleak frost abroad, and even the + waters of the brook which divided the two farms were hard frozen. The sun + hung low in the western sky, lustreless as a wafer, but ruddy. The fields + were powdered with thin snow, and the earth was black by contrast with it. + Now and then a shot sounded far away, but clear and sharp, from where the + guests of my lord of Barfield were killing time in the warren. + </p> + <p> + A labouring man, smock-frocked, billy-cocked, gaitered, and hob-nailed, + was clamping down the frozen lane, the earth ringing like iron under iron + as he walked. By his side was a fair-haired lad of nine or ten years of + age, a boy of frank and engaging countenance, carefully and even daintily + dressed, and holding up his head as if he were a lord of the soil and knew + it. The boy and the labourer were talking, and on the frosty silence of + the fields the clear treble of the boy’s speech rang out clearly and + carried far. A burly man, with a surly red face, who had stooped to button + a gaiter, in a meadow just beyond the brook, and had laid down his gun + beside him the while, heard both voice and words whilst the speaker was a + hundred yards away. + </p> + <p> + ‘But don’t you think it’s very wicked, Ichabod?’ + </p> + <p> + The labourer’s voice only reached the listener in the meadow. He spoke + with the Barfield drawl, and his features, which were stiffened by the + frozen wind, were twisted into a look of habitual waggery. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well,’ said he, in answer to his young companion, ‘maybe, Master Richard, + it might be wicked, but it’s main like natur.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I shan’t hate Joe Mountain when I’m a man,’ said the boy. + </p> + <p> + The surly man in the field, hearing these words, looked on a sudden + surlier still, and throwing up his head with a listening air, and holding + his ankle with both hands, crouched and craned his neck to listen. + </p> + <p> + ‘May’st have to change thy mind, Master Richard,’ said the labourer. + </p> + <p> + ‘Why should I change my mind, Ichabod?’ asked the boy, looking up at him. + </p> + <p> + ‘Why?’ answered Ichabod, ‘thee’lt niver have it said as thee wast afraid + of any o’ the Mountain lot.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I’m not afraid of him,’ piped the engaging young cockerel ‘We had a fight + in the coppice last holidays, and I beat him. The squire caught us, and we + were going to stop, but he made us go on, and he saw fair. Then he made us + shake hands after. Joe Mountain wouldn’t say he’d had enough, but the + squire threw up the sponge for him. And he gave us two half-crowns apiece, + and said we were both good plucked uns.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah! ‘said Ichabod, with warmth, ‘he’s the right sort is the squire. And + there’s no sort or kind o’ sport as comes amiss to him. A gentleman after + my own heart.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘He made us shake hands and promise we’d be friends,’ said Master Richard, + ‘and we’re going to be.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Make him turn the brook back first, Master Richard,’ said Ichabod. The + two were almost at the bridge by this time, and the listener could hear + distinctly. + </p> + <p> + ‘Turn the brook back?’ the boy asked. ‘What do you mean, Ichabod?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ax thy feyther, when thee gettest home,’ answered Ichabod. ‘He’ll tell + thee all the rights on it. So fur as I can make out—and it was the + talk o’ the country i’ my grandfeyther’s daysen—it amounts to this. + Look here! ‘He and the boy arrested their steps on the bridge, and Ichabod + pointed along the frozen track of the brook. ‘Seest that hollow ten rods + off? It was in the time o’ Cromwell Hast heard tell o’ Cromwell, I mek no + doubt?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oliver Cromwell,’ said Master Richard. ‘He was Lord Protector of England. + He fought King Charles.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Like enough,’ said Ichabod. ‘In his daysen, many ‘ears ago, there was the + Reddys here and the Mountains there’—indicating either house in turn + by pointing with his thumb—‘just as they be now. The Reddy o’ that + day—he was thy grandfeyther’s grand-feyther as like as not—maybe + he was <i>his</i> grandfeyther for aught as I can tell, for it’s a + deadly-dreadful heap o’ time long past—the Reddy o’ that day went to + the wars, and fowt for Cromwell. The Mountain o’ that time stopped at hum. + Up to then they’d niver been misfriended as fur as I know. That’s how it’s + put about, anyway. But whilst the Reddy was away what’s the Mountain do?’ + </p> + <p> + The boy was looking at Ichabod, and Ichabod, stooping a little to be the + more impressive, was looking at him. The surly-faced man with the gun had + hitherto been concealed by the hedge beside which he had knelt to fasten + his gaiter, and neither of the two had suspected his presence. It was + natural, therefore, that both of them should start a little when his voice + reached them. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well?’ The voice was sour and surly, like the face, and the word was + rapped out sharp and clear. Master Richard and Ichabod turned with one + accord. ‘Well?’ says the surly man, ‘what does the Mountain do?’ + </p> + <p> + Ichabod, less discomfited by the suddenness of the interruption than might + have been expected of him, rubbed the frozen base of his nose with a cold + forefinger and grinned. Master Richard looked from one to the other with a + frank and fearless interest and inquiry which became him very prettily. + The surly man bestowed a passing scowl upon him, and turned his angry + regard again upon Ichabod. + </p> + <p> + ‘Come, now,’ he said, ‘you backbiting, scandal-mongering old liar! What + does the Mountain do? Out with it!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Why, nayther thee nor me was there at the time, gaffer,’ responded + Ichabod, his frosty features still creased with a grin. ‘So nayther thee + nor me can talk for certain. Can us?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I suppose,’ said the surly, burly man, ‘you’re going to stuff that young + monkey with the old lie about the stream being turned?’ + </p> + <p> + Ichabod made no verbal response, but continued to rub his nose with his + forefinger, and to grin with an aspect of uncertain humour. The surly man + stooped for his gun, threw it over his arm, and stared at Ichabod and his + young companion with eyes of hatred and disdain. Then, having somewhat + relieved his feelings by a curse or two, he turned his back and went off + with a long, heavy, dogged-looking stride, his feet crunching noisily + through the frosty grasses. + </p> + <p> + ‘It eeat for me to talk about my betters, and them as the Lord has put in + authority over us,’ said Ichabod, with an expression which belied these + words of humility; ‘but I put it to thee, Master Richard. Dost think that + old Mountain theer looks like a likeable un? No, no. Might as well expect + cat an’ dog t’ agree as Reddy and Mountain.’ + </p> + <p> + This speech was made in a carefully modulated tone, when he and the boy + were at some distance from the surly man, who was still visible, three or + four fields away. + </p> + <p> + ‘What was it about the brook, Ichabod?’ asked Master Richard. + </p> + <p> + ‘Why,’ said Ichabod, ‘when that old longaway grandfeyther o’ thine was + away a-fighting for Cromwell, ‘tis said his neighbour turned the brook so + as to bring in four-score acres o’ land as ud niver have been his by + right. The Reddy o’ that day died in the wars, and his widder could mek no + head again the Mountain lot; but her taught her son to hate ‘em and look + down upon ‘em, and hated an’ looked down upon is the name on ‘em from that + day to this.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But Joe Mountain didn’t do it,’ said Master Richard. + </p> + <p> + ‘No, no,’ assented Ichabod. ‘But it’s i’ this way. It’s i’ the blood. + What’s bred i’ the bone will come out i’ the flesh. Afore thee makest + friends with young Joe Mountain, Master Richard, thee ax thy feyther.’ + </p> + <p> + Master Richard, lapsing into silence, thought things over. + </p> + <p> + ‘Ichabod,’ he said at last, ‘is a boy <i>bound</i> to be bad if he has a + bad grandfather?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Sure!’ said Ichabod, who was not going to be worsted in argument for want + of corroborative fact if he could help it. + </p> + <p> + Master Richard thought things over a little while longer, and returned to + the charge. + </p> + <p> + ‘Suppose the boy with the bad grandfather had a good grandmother, + Ichabod?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘None of the Mountain lot ever had,’ Ichabod replied. There was no item in + Ichabod’s creed more fixed than this—the Mountains of Mountain Farm + were hateful and contemptible. He had imbibed the belief with his mother’s + milk and his father’s counsel. His grandfather had known it for the one + cardinal certainty of nature. + </p> + <p> + Just as the serving-men of Capulet hated the serving-men of Montague, so + the oldest servants of the Mountains hated the older servants of the + Reddys. The men made the masters’ quarrel their own. There was a feudal + spirit in the matter, and half the fights of this outlying district of the + parish were provoked by that ancient history of the brook. At this time of + day it mattered very little indeed if the history was true or false, for + neither proof nor disproof was possible, and the real mischief was done + past remedy in any case. + </p> + <p> + ‘Are you sure our side fought for Cromwell, Ichabod?’ Master Richard. + asked, after another long and thoughtful silence. + </p> + <p> + ‘To be sure,’ said Ichabod. + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t think it can be true, then, about the brook,’ said the boy, + ‘because Cromwell won, and everybody who was on his side had their own + way. Mr. Greenfell teaches history at school, and he says so.’ + </p> + <p> + This was nothing to Ichabod, whose intellect was not constructed for the + reception of historical evidences. + </p> + <p> + ‘Then ax thy feyther, Master Richard,’ he answered; ‘he’ll tell thee the + rights on it.’ + </p> + <p> + The boy walked on pondering, as children of his age will do. The seniors + would be surprised pretty often if they could guess how deep and far the + young thoughts go, but, then, the seniors have forgotten their own young + days, or were never of a thinking habit. Ichabod clamped along with his + mind on beer. The boy thought his own thoughts, and each was indifferent + for a while to outer signs and sounds. But suddenly a little girl ran + round a corner of the devious lane with a brace of young savages in + pursuit. The youthful savages had each an armful of snowballs, and they + were pelting the child with more animus than seemed befitting. The very + tightness with which the balls were pressed seemed to say that they were + bent less on sport than mischief, and they came whooping and dancing round + the corner with such rejoicing cruelty as only boys or uncivilised men can + feel. The little girl was sobbing, half in distress, and half because of + the haste she had made, and Master Richard’s juvenile soul burnt within + him at the sight like that of a knight-errant. He had read a great deal + about knights-errant for the time which had been as yet allowed him for + the pursuit of literature, and he was by nature a boy of much fire and + gentleness, and a very sympathetic imagination. So the big heart in the + small body swelled with pity and grew hot with valour, and, without + parley, he smote the foremost boy, who happened to be the bigger of the + two, and went headlong into fight with him. + </p> + <p> + Ichabod followed the young master’s lead without knowing, or in the + smallest degree caring, why, and tried to seize the smaller savage, who + skilfully evaded him and ran. The little maiden stood and trembled with + clasped hands as she looked upon the fray. Ichabod lifted his smock-frock + to get his hands into the pockets of his corduroys, and watched with the + air of an old artist standing behind a young one. + </p> + <p> + ‘You shouldn’t work at it so much, Master Richard,’ said Ichabod. ‘Tek it + easier, and wait for him. That’s it!’ + </p> + <p> + The combat was brief and decisive. The youthful savage carried the heavier + metal, but he was slow with it; but suddenly, as if to show that he was + not altogether without activity, he turned and ran his hardest Master + Richard, with blue-gray eyes still glistening and hands still clenched in + the ardour of battle, turned upon the little girl, who was some two years + younger than himself At the sight of her he turned shy and blushed, and + the little girl turned shy and blushed also. She looked at the ground, and + then she looked at Richard, and then she looked at the ground again. She + was slender and delicate, and had very beautiful soft brown eyes, and the + hero of a minute back was abashed before her. + </p> + <p> + ‘You ‘m a Mountain, baint you?’ said Ichabod, looking at her with + disfavour. She looked shyly at him, but did not answer. ‘What’s your + name?’ he asked, stooping towards her. + </p> + <p> + ‘Julia Mountain,’ said the child, in a trembling treble. + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah!’ said Ichabod, ‘I thought so. Come along, Master Richard, or else we + shall niver get hum again afore dark.’ + </p> + <p> + Master Richard walked away with backward glances, shyly directed at the + little girl, and the little girl stood with her cheek inclining to her + shoulder, and the shoulder drawn up a little, as if to shelter her, and + looked after him. This exchange went on until Ichabod and the boy had + turned the corner of the lane, when Miss Julia Mountain ran home as fast + as her small legs would take her, and Master Richard Reddy, with a vision + in his mind, walked alongside his companion. + </p> + <p> + ‘You should tek a lesson or two, Master Richard,’ said Ichabod, ‘and then + thee’dst do a heap better. I’m rusty nowadaysen, but I used to love it + when I was a young un.’ + </p> + <p> + Master Eichard heard nothing of this or of the advice which followed it. + He enacted many times over the small adventure of the last five minutes, + and at the end of every mental history he traced, the little figure stood + in the lane looking shyly at him over one shoulder as he turned the + corner. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + II + </h2> + <p> + Samson Mountain went home in an ill-temper, and, as was usual with him + when in that condition, did everything he had to do with a sulky and noisy + emphasis, bursting open doors with unnecessary violence, slamming them + with needless force behind him, and clamping heavily from room to room. + His wife, who was submissive at the surface, but unconquerable at bottom, + knew these signs, and accepted them with outer show of meekness. Samson + tramped into the sitting-room, and there found his wife alone. He flung to + the door behind him with a crash which would have been startling if it had + been unexpected, and fell heavily into a roomy arm-chair by the fireside. + Mrs. Mountain took no notice of this, but went on placidly with her + sewing. Samson threw his heavily-booted feet noisily into the fender, and + still Mrs. Mountain went on placidly, without so much as looking at him. + Stung by this disregard of his obvious ill-humour, Samson made a lunge + with his foot at the fire-irons, and brought them down with a bang. + </p> + <p> + ‘Lawk a daisy me, Samson,’ said his wife mildly. ‘What’s the matter with + the man?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Matter!’ growled Samson. ‘It’s a thing as ud get a saint to set his back + up. I was down i’ the bridge leasowe bare an hour ago, and who should I + see but that young imp of a Reddy along wi’ that old viper of a Bubb. Thee + know’st the chap—that Ichabod.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I know him, Samson,’ answered Mrs. Mountain. ‘He’s the most impudent of + all of ‘em.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘They stood atop o’ the bridge,’ pursued Samson, ‘and I could hear ‘em + talkin’. Th’ ode rip was tellin’ the young un that outworn lie about the + brook. I’d got a shot i’ the barrel, and I’d more than half a mind to ha’ + peppered him. I’d ha’ done it if it had been worth while.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘There’s no end to their malice and oncharitable-ness,’ said Mrs. + Mountain. + </p> + <p> + ‘I heard the young imp say he’d fowt our Joe and licked him,’ pursued + Samson. ‘If ever it should come to my knowledge as a truth I’d put Master + Joe in such fettle he wouldn’t sit down for the best side a month o’ + Sundays.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘They ‘m giving the child such airs,’ said his wife, ‘it’s enough to turn + the bread o’ life which nourishes.’ + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Mountain had an object in view, and, after her own fashion, had held + it long in view in silence. The moment seemed to her propitious, and she + determined to approach it. + </p> + <p> + ‘Young toad!’ said Samson, rising to kick at the coals with his + heavy-heeled boot, and plunging backward into the chair again. + </p> + <p> + ‘To hear him talk—that fine an’ mincin’—you’d think he was one + o’ my lord’s grandchildren or a son o’ the squire’s at least,’ said Mrs. + Mountain, approaching her theme with circuitous caution. + </p> + <p> + ‘Ay!’ Samson assented ‘It’s enough to turn your stomach to listen to him.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘If they go on as they’re goings pursued his wife, circling a little + nearer, ‘we shall live to see fine things.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘We shall, indeed,’ said Samson, a little mollified to find his wife so + unusually warm in the quarrel. ‘There’s no such a thing as contentment to + be found amongst ‘em. They settle up to be looked upon as gentlefolks.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes; fine things we shall live to see, no doubt, if we don’t tek care. + But thanks be, Samson, it’s left in our own hands.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What be’st hoverin’ at?’ demanded Samson, turning upon her with his surly + red face. + </p> + <p> + ‘Things ain’t what they used to be when you an’ me was younger,’ said Mrs. + Mountain. ‘The plain ode-fashioned Barfield talk as you and me was bred up + to, Samson, ain’t good enough nowadays for the very kitchen wenches and + the labourers on the farm. Everybody’s gettin’ that new-fangled!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Barfield’s good enough for me, and good enough for mine,’ said Samson, + with sulky wrath. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s good enough for we, to be sure, but whether it’s good enough for + ourn is another churnin’ o’ butter altogether,’ his wife answered. ‘It ud + seem as if ivery generation talked different from one another. My mother, + as was a very well-spoken woman for her day, used to call a cup o’ tay a + dish o’ tay, and that’s a thing as only the very ignorant ud stoop to + nowadays.’ Samson growled, and wallowed discontentedly in the big + arm-chair. ‘A mother’s got her natural feelings, Samson,’ Mrs. Mountain + continued, with an air and tone of mildest resignation. ‘I don’t scruple + to allow as it’ll hurt me if I should live to see our Joe looked down upon + by a Reddy.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Looked down upon!’ cried Samson. ‘Where’s the Reddy as can count acre for + acre agen us, or guinea for guinea?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The Reddy’s is fairly well-to-do, Samson,’ said Mrs. Mountain; ‘very nigh + as well-to-do as we be.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Pooh!’ returned Samson. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, but they be, though,’ his wife insisted. ‘Pretty near. There’s + nothing so much between us as’d prevent ‘em from taking airs with us if + they could find out anything to do it for.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘If they could!’ Samson assented. ‘Abel Eeddy was a bragger and a boaster + from his cradle days.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s where it is,’ cried Mrs. Mountain, in a tone which implied that + Samson had made a discovery of the first importance, and that this + discovery unexpectedly confirmed her own argument. ‘Let ‘em have the least + little bit of a chance for a brag, and where be you?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You might trust ‘em to tek advantage on it if they had it,’ said her + husband. + </p> + <p> + ‘Of course you might,’ said she, with warmth, ‘and that’s why I’m fearful + on it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Fearful o’ what?’ demanded Samson. + </p> + <p> + ‘O’ these here scornful fine-gentleman ways as’ll be a thorn in our Joe’s + side as long as he lives, poor little chap, unless we put him in the way + to combat again ‘em.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah!’ Samson growled, suddenly enlightened. ‘I see now what thee beest + drivin’ at. Now, you take a straight sayin’ from me, Mary Ann. I’ll have + no fine-mouthed, false-natur’d corruption i’ my household. If the Reddys + choose to breed up that young imp of theirn to drawl fine and to talk + smooth above his station—let ‘em.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, Samson,’ returned Mrs. Mountain, who knew by long experience when + her husband was malleable, ‘you know best, and you’re the master here, as + it’s on’y fit and becomin’ an’ in the rightful nature o’ things as you + should be.’ + </p> + <p> + The first effect of the oil of flattery seemed to be to harden him. + </p> + <p> + ‘I be, and I mean to be,’ he answered, with added surliness. ‘If the + speech and the clothes and the vittles as have been good enough for me + ain’t good enough for any young upstart as may follow after me, it <i>is</i> + a pity.’ + </p> + <p> + Mary Ann kept silence and looked meek. Samson growled and bullied a + little, and wore the airs of a dictator. By and by a serving-maid came in + and began to arrange the table for tea, and a little later a boy and a + girl stole noiselessly into the room. + </p> + <p> + ‘Joe,’ said Samson sternly, ‘come here!’ The boy approached him with + evident dread. ‘What’s this I hear about thee and that young villin of a + Reddy?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t know, father,’ the boy answered. + </p> + <p> + ‘I heard him makin’ a boast this afternoon,’ said Samson, rolling + bullyingly in his arm-chair, ‘as you and him had fowt last holidays, and + as he gi’en you a hiding.’ + </p> + <p> + Joe said nothing, but looked as if he expected the experience to be + repeated. + </p> + <p> + ‘Now, what ha’ you got to say to that?’ demanded his father. + </p> + <p> + ‘Why,’ began Joe, edging back a little, ‘he’s bigger nor I be, an’ six + months o’der.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Do you mean to tell me,’ cried Samson, reaching out a hand and seizing + the little fellow by the jacket, ‘do you mean to tell me as you allowed to + have enough to that young villin?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No,’ Joe protested. ‘That I niver did. It was the squire as parted us.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You remember this,’ said his father, shaking him to emphasise the + promise. ‘If ever you agree to tek a hiding from a Reddy you’ve got one to + follow on from me. D’ye hear?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, father.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Tek heed as well as hear. D’ye hear?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, father.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And here’s another thing, mind you. It’s brought to me as you and him + shook hands and took on to be friends with one another. Is that trew?’ Joe + looked guilty, but made no answer. ‘Is it trew?’ Still Joe returned no + answer, and his father changing the hand with which he held him, for his + own greater convenience, knocked him off his feet, restored him to his + balance, knocked him off his feet again, and again settled him. ‘Now,’ + said Samson, ‘is it trew?’ + </p> + <p> + The boy tried to recoil from the uplifted threatening hand, and cried out + ‘No!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Now,’ said Samson, rising with a grim satisfaction, ‘that’s a lie. + There’s nothin’ i’ the world as I abhor from like a lie I’ll teach thee to + tell me lies. Goo into the brewus and tek thy shirt off; March!’ + </p> + <p> + The little girl clung to her mother’s skirts crying and trembling. The + mother herself was trembling, and had turned pale. + </p> + <p> + ‘Hush, hush, my pretty,’ she said, caressing the child, and averting her + eyes from Joe. + </p> + <p> + ‘March!’ said Samson, and Joe slunk out of the room, hardening his heart + as well as might be for endurance. But when he was once out of sight of + the huge bullying figure and threatening eye and hand, the sight of his + cap lying upon a chair in the hall supplied him with an inspiration. He + seized the cap, slipped out at the front door, and ran. + </p> + <p> + The early winter night was falling fast by this time. Half a dozen stars + twinkled intermittently in the black-blue waste of sky, and when the lad + paused to listen for possible sounds of pursuit the hollow moaning of the + wind and the clang of bare wintry poles mingled with the noise of his own + suppressed breathing. + </p> + <p> + The runaway fancied himself bound (as all British runaway boys seem bound) + for sea, and he set out without delay to walk to Liverpool. He got as far + as the brook which formed the limit to his father’s farm, and lingering + before he set foot upon the bridge, began to cry a little, and to bemoan + his chances and the dear ones left behind. His father came in for none of + Joe’s regrets. It was in the nature of things to the boy’s mind that his + father should administer to him periodical thrashings, whether he had + earned them or not. It was the one social relationship which existed + between them. It was only quite of late that Joe had begun to discern + injustice in his father’s bullyings. Children take things as they come, + and to the mind of a child—in a modified sense, of course—whatever + is, is right. That a thing exists is its own best justification. There is + no reason to seek reasons for it. But Joe Mountain, having nearly outgrown + this state of juvenile acquiescence, had begun to make inquiry of himself, + and, as a result, had familiarised himself with many mental pictures in + which he figured as an adventurer rich in adventures. In his day the youth + of England were less instructed than they are now, but the immortal Defoe + existed, and Lemuel Gulliver was as real as he is to-day. Perhaps the + Board schools may have made that great mariner a little less real than he + used to be. Joe believed in him with all his heart, had never had the + shadow of a doubt about him, and meant to sail straight from Liverpool to + Lilliput. He would defer his voyage to Brobdingnagia until he had grown + bigger, and should be something of a match for its inhabitants. + </p> + <p> + But it was cold, it was darkening fast, it was past his ordinary tea-time. + Liverpool and Lilliput were far away, pretty nearly equidistant to the + juvenile mind, and but for Samson’s shadow the tea-table would have looked + alluring. To be sure of tea, and a bed to sleep in afterwards, it seemed + almost worth while to go back to the brewhouse and obey the paternal + command to take his shirt off. To do the child justice, it was less the + fear of the thrashing than the hot sense of rebellion at unfairness which + kept him from returning. His father had beaten him into that untrue cry of + ‘No,’ and had meant to force him to it, and then to beat him anew for it. + Joe knew that better than Samson, for Samson, like the rest of us, liked + to stand well with himself, and kept self-opinion in blinkers. + </p> + <p> + Joe set foot on the bridge. He had crossed the boundary brook hundreds of + times in his brief life, and it had generally come into his mind, with a + boyish sense of adventure, that when he did so he was putting foot into + the enemy’s country. But the feeling had never been so strong as now. The + Mountain Farm was home, and beyond it lay the wide, wide world, looking + wide indeed, and bleak and cold. What with hot rebellion at injustice and + cold fear of the vast and friendless expanse, Joe’s tears multiplied, and + leaning his arms upon the low coping of the bridge, with his head between + them and his nose touching the frozen stone, he began to cry + unrestrainedly. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly he heard a footstep, and it struck a new terror into his soul. + Freebooters, footpads, kidnappers, <i>et hoc genus omne</i>, roamed those + fields by night, in course of nature. To the snug security of the home + fireside and bed their images came with a delightful thrill of fear, but + to be here alone and in the midst of them was altogether another thing. He + crept crouching across the bridge, and stowed himself into the smallest + possible compass between the end of the stonework and the neighbouring + hedgerow, and there waited trembling. His pulses beat so fast and made + such a noise in his ears that he was ready to take the sound of footsteps + for the tread of a whole ogreish army, when he heard a voice. + </p> + <p> + ‘Hode on a minute, while I shift the sack.’ + </p> + <p> + The sack? It was easy—it was inevitable—to know that the sack + contained a goblin supper. + </p> + <p> + ‘I shall be late for tea, Ichabod,’ said another voice, ‘and then I shall + get a blowing-up for coming.’ + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Let him who sighs in sadness here, + Rejoice, and know a friend is near. +</pre> + <p> + Joe sprang from his hiding-place, and startled Master Richard and Ichabod + more than a little. + </p> + <p> + ‘That thee, Dick?’ + </p> + <p> + He knew it well enough, but it was quite delightful to be able to ask it + with certainty. + </p> + <p> + ‘Hillo,’ said Master Richard, recognising his sworn friend. ‘What are you + doing? Are you trapping anything?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No,’ the hereditary enemy answered. He had been crying, the poor little + chap, until he had been frightened into quiet, and now on a sudden he was + as brave and as glad again as ever he had been in his life. Once more + adventures loomed ahead for the adventurous, and he shone within and grew + warm with the sweet reflux of courage as he whispered, ‘I’m running away + from home!’ + </p> + <p> + Once again, the feat was glorious. + </p> + <p> + ‘No?’ said Master Richard, smitten with envy and admiration. ‘Are you? + Really?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes,’ Joe answered. ‘I’m agooin’ to Liverpool, to begin wi’.’ + </p> + <p> + This was exquisitely large and vague, and Master Richard began to yearn + for a share in the high enterprise upon which his friend had entered. He + had half a mind to run away from home himself, though, to be sure, there + was nothing else to run away from. In Joe’s case there was a difference. + </p> + <p> + ‘Where are you going to stay to-night?’ asked Master Richard. The question + sounded practical, but at bottom it was nothing of the sort. It was part + of the romance of the thing, and yet it threw cold water on Joe’s + newly-lighted courage, and put it out again. + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t know,’ said Joe, somewhat forlornly. + </p> + <p> + ‘I say,’ interjected Ichabod, ‘is that young Mountain, Master Richard?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes,’ said Master Richard. + </p> + <p> + ‘Thee know’st thy feyther is again thy speakin’ to him, and his feyther is + again his speakin’ to thee.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You mind your own business, Ichabod,’ said the young autocrat, who was a + little spoiled perhaps, and had been accustomed to have his own way in + quite a princely fashion. + </p> + <p> + ‘I’m mindin’ it,’ returned Ichabod. ‘It’s a part o’ my business to keep + thee out o’ mischief.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah!’ piped Master Richard, ‘you needn’t mind that part of your business + to-night.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘All right,’ said Ichabod, reshouldering the sack he had meanwhile + balanced on the coping of the bridge. ‘See as thee beesn’t late for + tay-time.’ + </p> + <p> + With that, having discharged his conscience, he went on again, and the two + boys stayed behind. + </p> + <p> + ‘What are you running away for?’ asked Eichard. + </p> + <p> + ‘Why, feyther said it was brought to him as you and me had shook hands and + had took on to be friends with one another, and he told me to go into the + brewus and take my shirt off.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Take your shirt off?’ inquired the other. In Joe’s lifetime, short as it + was, he had had opportunity to grow familiar with this fatherly formula, + but it was strange to Master Richard. ‘What for?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What for! Why, to get a hidin’, to be sure.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Look here!’ said Richard, having digested this, ‘you come and stop in one + of our barns. Have you had your tea?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No,’ returned Joe, ‘I shouldn’t ha’ minded so much if I had.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I’ll bring something out to you,’ said the protector. + </p> + <p> + So the two lads set out together, and to evade Ichabod, struck off at a + run across the fields, Joe pantingly setting forth, in answer to his + comrade’s questions, how he was going to be a sailor or a pirate, ‘or + summat,’ or to have a desert island like Crusoe. Of course, it was all + admirable to both of them, and, of course, it was all a great deal more + real than the fields they ran over. + </p> + <p> + The runaway was safely deposited in a roomy barn, and left there alone, + when once again a life of adventures began to assume a darkish complexion. + It was cold, it was anxious, it seemed to drag interminably, and it was + abominably lonely. If it were to be all like this, even the prospect of an + occasional taking off of one’s shirt in the brewhouse looked less + oppressive than it had done. + </p> + <p> + The hidden Joe, bound for piracy on the high seas, or a Crusoe’s island + somewhere, gave a wonderful zest to Master Richard’s meal But an hour, + which seemed like a year to the less fortunate of the two, went by before + a raid upon the well-furnished larder of Perry Hall could be effected. + When the opportunity came, Master Richard, with no remonstrance from + conscience, laid hands upon a loaf and a dish of delicious little cakes of + fried pork fat, from which the lard had that day been ‘rendered,’ and thus + supplied, stole out to his hereditary enemy and fed him. The hereditary + enemy complained of cold, and his host groped the dark place for sacks, + and, having found them, brought them to him. + </p> + <p> + ‘I say,’ said Joe, when he had tasted the provender, ‘them’s scratchings. + That’s gay and fine. I never had as many as I should like afore. Mother + says they’re too rich, but that’s all rubbish.’ + </p> + <p> + He made oily feast in the dark, with the sacks heaped about him. With + Master Richard to help him, he began to swim in adventure, and the pair + were so fascinated and absorbed that one of the farm-servants went bawling + ‘Master Richard’ about the outlying buildings for two or three minutes + before they heard him. When at last the call reached their ears they had + to wait until it died away again before the surreptitious host dare leave + the barn, lest his being seen should draw attention to the place. + </p> + <p> + Then Joe, who had been hunting wild beasts of all sorts with the greatest + possible gusto, began in turn to be hunted by them. The rattlesnake, + hitherto unknown to Castle Barfield, became a common object; the lion and + the polar bear met on common ground in the menagerie of Joe’s imagination. + Whatever poor blessings and hopes he had, and whatever schoolboy wealth he + owned, he would have surrendered all of them to be in the brewhouse of the + Mountain Farm, even though he were there to take his shirt off But the + empty, impassable, awful night stood between him and any refuge, and he + must need stay where he was, and sweat with terror under his sacks, + through all the prodigious tracts of time which lay between the evening + and the morning. He was to have been up and afoot for Liverpool before + dawn, but tired nature chose the time he had fixed for starting to send + him to sleep, and when Master Richard stole into the barn with intent to + disperse the sacks and clear away any sign of Joe’s occupancy, he found + him slumbering soundly, with a tear-stained cheek resting on a dirty brown + hand. + </p> + <p> + There had been the wildest sort of hubbub and disorder at the Mountain + Farm all night. Mrs. Mountain had wept and wrung her hands, and rocking + herself to and fro, had poured forth doleful prophecy. Samson, who had + begun with bluster, had fallen into anxiety, and had himself traced the + course of the brook for a full mile by lanthorn-light. The farm hands had + been sent abroad, and had tracked every road without result. Of course the + one place where nobody so much as thought of making inquiry was the house + of the hereditary foe, but pretty early, in the course of the morning, the + news of Joe Mountain’s disappearance, and something of the reasons for it, + reached Perry Hall. Everybody at Perry Hall knew already what a terrible + personage Samson Mountain was, and his behaviour on this occasion was the + theme of scathing comment. + </p> + <p> + Master Richard was guilty at heart, but exultant. Being a boy of lively + imagination, he took to a secrecy so profound, and became so strikingly + stealthy, as to excite observation and remark. He was watched and tracked + to the barn, and then the discovery came about as a matter of course. The + Reddys made much of Joe—they had no quarrel with an innocent + persecuted child—but their kindness and commiseration were simply + darts to throw at Samson. + </p> + <p> + It was noon when Reddy put the trembling adventurer into his trap, and + with his own hands drove him home. The two enemies met and glowered at + each other. + </p> + <p> + ‘I’ve found your lad and brought him home,’ said Reddy; ‘though I doubt + it’s a cruel kindness to him.’ + </p> + <p> + Samson, with all the gall in his nature burning at his heart, lifted Joe + from the trap and set him on the ground in silence. Reddy, in silence, + turned his horse’s head, touched him with the whip, and drove away. Joe + was welcomed home by a thrashing, which he remembers in old age. + </p> + <p> + The episode bore fruit in several ways. To begin with, Master Joe was + packed off to a distant school, far from that to which young Reddy was + sent. But the boys found each other out in the holidays, and became firm + friends on the sly, and Joe was so loyal and admiring that he never ceased + to talk to his one confidante of the courage, the friendliness, the + generosity, the agility, and skill of his secret hero. The confidante was + his sister Julia, to whom the young hereditary enemy became a synonym for + whatever is lovely and of good report. She used to look at him in church—she + had little other opportunity of observing him—and would think in her + childish innocent mind how handsome and noble he looked. He did not speak + like the Barfield boys, or look like them, or walk like them. He was a + young prince, heir to vast estates, and a royal title in fairyland. If + story-books were few and far between, the sentimental foolish widow, Jenny + Busker, was a mine of narrative, and a single fairy tale is enough to open + all other fairy lore to a child’s imagination. If the little girl + worshipped the boy, he, in his turn, looked kindly down on her. He had + fought for her once at odds of two to one, and he gave her a smile now and + then. It happened that in this wise began the curious, half-laughable, and + half-pathetic little history which buried the hatreds of the Castle + Barfield Capulet and Montague for ever. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + III + </h2> + <p> + In this Castle Barfield version of Romeo and Juliet the parody would have + been impossible without the aid and intervention of some sort of Friar + Laurence. He was a notability of those parts in those days, and he was + known as the Dudley Devil. In these enlightened times he would have been + dealt with as a rogue and vagabond, and, not to bear too hardly upon an + historical personage, whom there is nobody (even with all our wealth of + historical charity-mongers) to whitewash, he deserved richly in his own + day the treatment he would have experienced in ours. He discovered stolen + property—when his confederates aided him; he put the eye on people + obnoxious to his clients, for a consideration; he overlooked milch cows, + and they yielded blood; he went about in the guise of a great gray + tom-cat. It was historically true in my childhood—though, like other + things, it may have ceased to be historically true since then—that + it was in this disguise of the great gray tom-cat that he met his death. + He was fired at by a farmer, the wounded cat crawled into the wizard’s + cottage, and the demon restored to human form was found dying later on + with a gun-shot charge in his ribs. There were people alive a dozen—nay, + half a dozen—years ago, who <i>knew</i> these things, to whom it was + blasphemous to dispute them. + </p> + <p> + The demon’s earthly name was Rufus Smith, and he lived ‘by Dudley Wood + side, where the wind blows cold,’ as the local ballad puts it His mother + had dealt in the black art before him, and was ducked to death in the + Severn by the bridge in the ancient town of Bewdley. He was a lean man, + with a look of surly fear. It is likely enough that he half expected some + of his invocations to come true one fine day or other, with consequences + painful to himselt The old notions are dying out fast, but it used to be + said in that region that when a man talked to himself he was talking with + the universal enemy. Rufus and his mother were great chatterers in + solitude, and what possible companion could they have but one? + </p> + <p> + It is not to be supposed that all the ministrations for which the people + of the country-side relied upon Rufus were mischievous. If he had done + nothing but overlook cattle and curse crops, and so forth, he would have + been hunted out. Some passably good people have been said, upon occasions, + to hold a candle to the devil. With a similar diversion from general + principle, Rufus was known occasionally to perform acts of harmless + utility. He charmed away warts and corns, he prepared love philtres, and + sold lucky stones. He foreran the societies which insure against accident, + and would guarantee whole bones for a year or a lifetime, according to the + insurer’s purse or fancy. He told fortunes by the palm and by the cards, + and was the sole proprietor and vendor of a noted heal-all salve of magic + properties. + </p> + <p> + He and his mother had gathered together between them a respectable handful + of ghastly trifles, which were of substantial service alike to him and to + his clients. A gentleman coming to have his corns or warts charmed away + would be naturally assisted towards faith by the aspect of the polecat’s + skeleton, the skulls of two or three local criminals, and the shrivelled, + mummified dead things which hung about the walls or depended head + downwards from the ceiling. These decorations apart, the wizard’s home was + a little commonplace. It stood by itself in a bare hollow, an + unpicturesque and barn-like cottage, not altogether weather-proof. + </p> + <p> + It fell upon a day that Mrs. Jenny Rusker drove over from Castle Barfield + to pay Rufus a visit. She rode in a smart little trap, the kind of thing + employed by the better sort of rustic tradesmen, and drove a smart little + pony. She was a motherly, foolish, good creature, who, next to the reading + of plays and romances, loved to have children about her and to make them + happy. On this particular day she had Master Richard with her. She kept up + her acquaintance with both her old lovers, and was on terms of rather + coolish friendship with them. But she adored their children, and would + every now and again make a descent on the house of one or other of her old + admirers and ravish away a child for a day or two. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Jenny had consoled herself elsewhere for the loss of lovers for whom + she had never cared a halfpenny, but she had never ceased to hold a sort + of liking for both her old suitors. Their claims had formerly been pretty + evenly balanced in her mind, and even now, when the affair was ancient + enough in all conscience to have been naturally and quietly buried long + ago, she never met either of her quondam lovers without some touch of + old-world coquetry in her manner. The faintest and most far-away touch of + anything she could call romance was precious to the old woman, and having + a rare good heart of her own under all her superannuated follies, she + adored the children. Dick was her especial favourite, as was only natural, + for he was pretty enough and regal enough with his childish airs of <i>petit + grand seigneur</i> to make him beloved of most women who met him. Women + admire the frank masterfulness of a generous and half-spoiled boy, and + Mrs. Jenny saw in the child the prophecy of all she had thought well of in + his father, refined by the grace of childhood and by a better breeding + than the father had ever had. + </p> + <p> + So she and Dick were great allies, and there was always cake and + elderberry wine and an occasional half-crown for him at Laburnum Cottage. + It was only natural that, so fostered, Dick’s affection for the old lady + should be considerable. She was his counsellor and confidante from his + earliest years, and the little parlour, with its antiquated furniture and + works of art-in wool, its haunting odour of pot-pourri emanating from the + big china jar upon the mantelshelf, and its moist warm atmosphere dimly + filtered through the drooping green and gold of the laburnum tree, whose + leaves tapped incessantly against the lozenged panes of its barred + windows, was almost as familiar in his memory in after years as the + sitting-room at home at the farm. + </p> + <p> + Dick conferred upon its kindly and garrulous old tenant the brevet rank of + ‘Aunt’ Jenny, and loved her, telling her, in open-hearted childish + fashion, his thoughts, experiences, and secrets. Naturally, the story of + the fight with the paynim oppressors of beauty came out in his talk soon + after its occurrence, and lost nothing in the telling. Mrs. Jenny would + have found a romance in circumstances much less easily usable to that end + than those of the scion of one house rescuing the daughter of a rival and + inimical line, and here was material enough for foolish fancy. She cast a + prophetic eye into the future, and saw Dick and Julia, man and maid, + reuniting their severed houses in the bonds of love, or doubly embittering + their mutual hatred and perishing—young and lovely victims to + clannish hatred and parental rigour—like Romeo and Juliet. + </p> + <p> + The boy’s account of the fight was given as he sat by her side in her + little pony-trap in the cheerfully frosty morning. Dick chatted gaily as + the shaggy-backed pony trotted along the resounding road with a clatter of + hoofs and a jingle of harness, and an occasional sneeze at the frosty air. + They passed the field of battle on the road, and Dick pointed it out. + Then, as was natural, he turned to the family feud, and retailed all he + had heard from Ichabod, supplemented by information from other quarters + and such additions of fancy as imaginative children and savages are sure + to weave about the fabric of any story which comes in their way to make + tradition generally the trustworthy thing it is. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Busker was strong on the family quarrel. A family quarrel was a great + thing in her estimation, almost as good as a family ghost, and she gave + Dick the whole history of the incident of the brook and of many others + which had grown out of it, among them one concerning the death of a + certain Reddy which had tragically come to pass a year or two before his + birth. The said Reddy had been found one November evening stark and cold + at the corner of the parson’s spinney, with an empty gun grasped in his + stiffened hand, and a whole charge of small shot in his breast. Crowner’s + quest had resulted in a verdict of death by misadventure, and the + generally received explanation was that the young fellow’s own gun had + worked the mischief by careless handling in passing through stiff + undergrowth. But a certain ne’er-do-well Mountain, a noted striker and + tosspot of the district, had mysteriously disappeared about that date, and + had never since come within scope of Castle Barfield knowledge. Ugly + rumours had got afloat, vague and formless, and soon to die out of general + memory. Dick listened open-mouthed to all this, and when the narrative was + concluded, held his peace for at least two minutes. + </p> + <p> + ‘<i>She</i> isn’t wicked, is she, Aunt Jenny?’ he suddenly demanded. + </p> + <p> + ‘She? Who? ‘asked Mrs. Eusker in return. ‘The little girl, Julia.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Wicked? Sakes alive, whativer is the boy talking about? Wicked? O’ course + not. She’s a dear good little thing as iver lived.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ichabod said that all the Mountains were wicked. But I know Joe isn’t—at + least, not very. He promised me a monkey and a parrot—a green + parrot, when he came back from running away. But he didn’t run away, + because father found him and took him home. His father gave him an awful + thrashing. He often thrashes him, Joe says. Father never thrashes me. What + does his father thrash him for?’ ‘Mr. Mountain’s a harder man than your + father, my dear. An’ I fear as Joe’s a bit wild, like his father when he + was a boy, and obstinit. Theer niver was a obstinater man i’ this earth + than Samson Mountain, I do believe, an’ Joe’s got a bit on it in him.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘She’s pretty,’ said Dick, returning with sudden childish inconsequence to + the subject uppermost in his thoughts. ‘Joe isn’t Why is it that the girls + are always prettier than the boys?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I used to think it was the other way about when I was a gell,’ said Aunt + Jenny, with perfect simplicity. ‘But she is pretty, that’s true. But then + her mother was a likely lass, an’ Samson warn’t bad lookin’, if he hadn’t + ha’ been so fierce an’ cussid. An’ to think as it should be you, of all + the lads i’ Barfield, as should save a Mountain. An’ a gell too.. I + suppose as you’ll be a settin’ up to fall in love wi’ her now, like Romeo + and Juliet?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What was that? ‘asked the boy. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s a play, my dear, wrote by a clever man as has been dead iver so many + ‘ears, William Shaakespeare.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Shakespeare?’ said Dick. ‘I know. It’s a big book on one of the shelves + at home, full of poetry. But what’s Romeo and Juliet?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Romeo and Juliet was two lovers, as lived a long time ago in a place + called Verona. I don’t know where it is,’ she added quickly, to stave off + the imminent question already on the boy’s lips. ‘Somewhere abroad, wheer + Bonyparty is. Juliet’s name was Capulet, an’ Romeo’s was Montague, an’ the + Capilets and the Montagues hated each other so as they could niver meet + wi’out havin’ a bit of a turn-up one with another. They was as bad as the + Reddys an’ the Mountains, only i’ them daysen folks allays wore swords an’ + daggers, so’s when they fowt they mostly killed each other. Well, one + night old Capilet gi’en a party, an’ asked all his friends, an’ everybody + wore masks, so’s they didn’t know half the time who they was a-talkin’ + tew, as was the fashion i’ them times, an’ Romeo, he goes, just for + divilment, an’ he puts on a mask tew, so as they didn’t know him, else + they’d ha’ killed him, sure an’ certain. An’ theer he sees Juliet, an’ she + was beautiful, an’ he falls plump in love wi’ her, an’ she falls in love + wi’ him, an’ they meets o’ nights, i’ the moonlight, on the window-ledge + outside her room, but they had to meet i’ secret, ‘cause the two fam’lies + was like cat an’ dog, an’ there’d ha’ been awful doin’s if they’d been + found out. Well, old Capilet—that was Juliet’s feyther—he + finds a husband for Juliet, a nice chap enough, a count, like Lord + Barfield, on’y younger an’ likelier. An’ Juliet, she gets welly mad, + because she wants to marry Romeo. And then, to mek matters wuss, Romeo + meets one o’ Juliet’s relations, a young man named Tybalt, as hates him + like pison, an’ they fowt, an’ Romeo killed him. Well, the Capilets was + powerful wi’ the king as ruled in Verona, like Joseph used to be with + Pharaoh in the Holy Land, my dear, an’ Romeo, he has to run away an’ hide + himself, else p’raps they’d ha’ hung him for killin’ Tybalt, though it was + Tybalt as begun the fight, so poor Juliet’s left all alone. An’ her + marriage day’s a-gettin’ near, and old Capilet, he’s stuck on her marryin’ + the count, an’ the day’s been named, and everything provided for the + weddin’. Well, Romeo takes a thought, an’ goes to a friar, a kind o’ + priest, as was a very book-learned man, and asks if he can help him. And + at first he says no, he can’t, an’ Romeo gets that crazed, he’s goin’ to + kill himself, but by an’ by he thinks of a plan. He gives Juliet a bottle + o’ physic stuff to send her to sleep, and make her look as if she was + dead. Then her relations ‘ll be sure to bury her i’ the family vault, an’ + he’ll write to Romeo to come back to Verona i’ the night-time an’ take her + out o’ the vault, an’ goo away quiet wi’ her till things have blown over, + an’ they can come back again. An’ Juliet takes the physic, an’ everybody + thinks her dead, her father, an’ her mother, an’ her old nuss, an’ Paris—that’s + the name of the gentleman as they wanted her to marry—an’ there’s + such a hullabaloo an’ racket as niver was. An’ they buried her i’ the + vault, wi’ all her relations, an’ the old friar thinks as it’s all + a-comin’ straight. But the letter as he’d writ to Romeo niver reaches him, + an’ Romeo hears as how Juliet’s really dead, and he buys a bottle o’ + pison, an’ comes to Juliet’s grave i’ the night-time, an’ there he meets + Paris, as has come to put flowers there an’ pray for Juliet’s soul, + knowin’ no better and lovin’ her very dear. An’ him an’ Romeo fights, and + Romeo kills him, an’ opens the vault, an’ go’s in, an’ theer’s Juliet, + lyin’ stiff an’ stark, because the physic ain’t had time to work itself + off yit. An’ he kisses her, an’ cries over her, and then he teks the + pison, and dies. An’ just as he’s done it, Juliet wakes up, and finds him + dead, and she takes his knife, an’ kills herself, poor thing, an’ that’s + the hend on ‘em.’ + </p> + <p> + The old sentimentalist’s eyes were moist, and her voice choked, as she + concluded her legend. It was the first love-story Dick had ever heard, and + in pity at the beautiful narrative, which no clumsiness of narration could + altogether rob of its pathos, he was crying too. There is no audience like + an impressionable child, and the immortal story of love and misfortune + seemed very pitiful to his small and tender heart. + </p> + <p> + ‘Why, theer! theer! Dick! It’s only a story, my dear, wrote in a book,’ + said Mrs Jenny. ‘It most likely ain’t true, an’ if it is, it all happened + sich a time ago as it’s no good a-frettin’ about it. Why, wheeriver did + you get all them warts? ‘She took one of the hands with which Dick was + rubbing his eyes. ‘You should have ‘em looked tew, they quite spile your + hands. I must get Rufus Smith to have a look at ‘em. You know who we’m + agoin’ to see, don’t you? You’ve heard tell o’ the Dudley Devil, Dick?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes,’ said Dick. ‘Ichabod goes to him for his rheumatism.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s on’y a step away. That’s his cottage, over there. We’ll get him to + charm the warts away.’ + </p> + <p> + A hundred yards farther on Mrs. Jenny checked the pony, and, dismounting + from the vehicle, bade Dick tie him to an elder-shoot and follow her. They + went through a gap in a ruinous hedge, and traversed a furzy field, at the + farther side of which stood the wizard’s hut, a wretched place of a single + story, with a shuttered window and a thatched roof full of holes and + overgrown with weeds. As they approached the door a mighty clatter was + audible within, and Mrs. Jenny held the boy’s hand in a tightened grasp, + fearful of devilry. As they stood irresolute to advance or retreat, a big + cat dashed out at the doorway with a feline imprecation, and the wizard + appeared, revengefully waving a stick, and swearing furiously. + </p> + <p> + ‘Cuss the brute,’ he said, ‘the divil’s in her, sure an’ sartin’.’ + </p> + <p> + It seemed not unlikely to the onlookers, the cat being the wizard’s + property, and therefore, by all rule and prescription, his prompter and + familiar. She was not of the received colour, however, her fur being of a + rusty red. But as she raised her back, and spat at her master’s visitors + from under her chubbed tail, she looked demoniac enough for anything. And + from the fashion in which, her anathema once launched, she sat down and + betook herself to the rearrangement of her ruffled coat, it might have + been conjectured that it was not purely personal to them, but that they + were attacked merely as types of the human race, whose society she and her + master had forsworn. + </p> + <p> + ‘Cuss her!’ reiterated the wizard. ‘Where’s her got tew? My soul, what’s + this?’ + </p> + <p> + He peered with a short-sighted terror-stricken scowl on Mrs. Jenny and her + charge, as if for a moment the fancy had crossed him that his refractory + familiar had taken their shapes. His gray lips muttered something, and his + fingers worked oddly as he took a step or two forward, clearly outlined in + the cold winter sunshine against the black void beyond his open door. + </p> + <p> + ‘Why, Rufus, what’s the matter?’ asked Mrs. Jenny. ‘Don’t look like that + at a body.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s you, mum?’ said the necromancer. A look of relief came into his + wizened face. ‘I didn’t know but what it might be——’ His voice + trailed off into an indistinct murmur, and he smeared his hand heavily + across his face, and looked at it, mistrustfully, as if he rather expected + to find something else in its place. ‘Cuss her!’ he said again, looking + round for the cat. + </p> + <p> + ‘What’s she done?’ demanded Mrs. Jenny. + </p> + <p> + ‘Done? Ate up all my brekfus, that’s what she’s done,’ rejoined the + wizard. The familiar grinned with a relish of the situation so fiendishly + human that Dick clung closer to Mrs. Rusker’s hand, and devoutly wished + himself back in the trap. To his childish sense the incongruity of one + gifted with demoniac powers being helpless to prevent the depredations of + his own domestic animal did not appeal. As for Mrs. Jenny, she had piously + believed in witchcraft all her life, and was quite as insensible to the + absurdity as he. + </p> + <p> + ‘I want you to look at this young gentleman’s hands,’ said Mrs. Busker. + ‘He’s got warts that bad. I suppose you can charm ‘em away for him?’ + </p> + <p> + Appealed to on a point of his art, the wizard’s air changed altogether. He + assumed an aspect of wooden majesty. + </p> + <p> + ‘Why, yis,’ he said. ‘I think I’m equal to that Step inside, mum, and + bring the young gentleman with you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Couldn’t you———-’ Mrs. Busker hesitatingly began, + ‘couldn’t you do it outside?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The forms and ceremonies,’ said the necromancer, with an increase of + woodenness in his manner, ‘cannot be applied out o’ doors. Arter you, + mum.’ + </p> + <p> + He ushered them into the one room of his hut, and the cat, with her tail + floating above her like a banner, entered too, evading a kick, and sprang + upon a rotten deal shelf, which apparently acted as both dresser and + table. + </p> + <p> + Rufus closed the ruinous door, thereby intensifying the gloom which + reigned within the place. The floor was of simple earth, unboarded, and + the air smelt of it Here and there a fine spear of ghostly sunlight + pierced a crack in roof or wall. By the time their eyes had become + accustomed to the gloom they saw that Rufus, on his knees on the floor, + was scratching a circle about himself with a scrap of a broken pot, and + the indistinct rhythmic murmur of the spell he muttered reached their + ears. + </p> + <p> + The cat, perched upon the dresser, purred as if her internal machinery + were running down to final collapse, and her contracting and dilating eyes + borrowed infernal fires from the chance ray of sunshine in which she sat. + The brute’s rusty red head, so lit, fascinated Dick, and the mingled + rhythms of her purring and the wizard’s mounted and mounted, until to his + bewildered mind the whole world seemed filled with their murmur, and the + demoniac head seemed to dilate as he gazed at it. Suddenly, Rufus paused + in his sing-song, and the cat’s purr ceased with it, as though her share + of the charm was done. + </p> + <p> + ‘Come into the ring,’ said Rufus. His voice was shaky, and if there had + been light enough to see it, his face was gray with terror of his own + hocus-pocus. The cat’s head had dropped out of the line of sunlight, and + she had coiled herself up on the dresser among a disorderly litter of + crockery ware. Dick, relieved from the fascination of her too-visible + presence, obeyed the summons, and Rufus, seating himself upon a broken + stool, took his hand in moist and quivering fingers, and touching the + warts one by one, recommenced his mumble. It had proceeded for a minute or + so, when a crash, which, following as it did on the dead stillness, an + earthquake could scarce have equalled, elicited a scream from Mrs. Jenny + and brought the wizard to his knees with a yell of terror. + </p> + <p> + ‘My blessid!’ he cried, with clacking jaws, ‘I’ve done it at last! Get + thee behind me, Satan!’ + </p> + <p> + In terror-stricken earnest he believed that the Great Personage he had + passed all his life in trying to raise had answered to his call at last. + So, though it was unquestionably a relief to him to find that the + appalling clatter had merely been caused by his familiar’s pursuit of a + mouse among the crockery, a shade of disappointment may have followed the + discovery. + </p> + <p> + ‘Cuss her!’ he said, for the third time that morning, and with additional + unction. ‘Her’ll be the death of me some day, I know her will!’ + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IV + </h2> + <p> + A summer sunset filled all the sky above Castle Barfield and its + encircling fields. The sun had disappeared, leaving behind him a broad + reflected track of glory where, here and there, a star was faintly + visible. A light wind was blowing from the hollow which sheltered the town + towards the higher land whereon the rival houses of Eeddy and Mountain + faced each other. Below, it was already almost night, and as the wind blew + the shadow mounted, as if the wind carried it. The rose and gold left by + the departing sun faded down the sky, and settled at the horizon into a + broad band of deep-toned fire, which, to one facing it in ascending from + the lower ground, seemed to bind the two houses together. Some such fancy + might have been in the head of Mrs. Jenny Rusker, as she went in the warm + evening air towards the little eminence on which stood the long low-built + house of Samson Mountain, already a-twinkle with occasional lights in the + gloom, its own bulk cast against the fast-fading band of sunset. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Jenny, hale and vigorous yet, and still a widow, was older by fifteen + years than on the day when she unfolded to Dick Reddy the story of Romeo + and Juliet. Fifteen years was a good slice out of a lifetime, even in + Castle Barfield in the first half of the century, when time slipped by so + quietly and left so little trace to mark his flight. + </p> + <p> + She passed the gate which opened on the public road, and entered the + Mountain domain. The air was so still that the bubble of the boundary + brook was clearly audible a hundred yards away, with nothing to accent it + but the slow heavy flap of a late crow, winging his reluctant flight + homewards, and save for him, sky and earth alike seemed empty of life, and + delivered wholly to the clinging peace of evening. So that when Mrs. Jenny + came to the only clump of trees in her line of progress between the gate + and the house the little scream of surprise with which she found herself + suddenly face to face with an unexpected human figure was justified. + </p> + <p> + ‘Sh-h-h! ‘said the figure’s owner. ‘Don’t you know me, Aunt Jenny?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Dick!’ said Mrs. Jenny, peering at him. ‘So it is. You welly frightened + the life out o’ me. What brings you here, of all places in the world?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Can’t you guess?’ asked Dick. He was tall and broad-shouldered now, an + admirable fulfilment of the physical promise of his boyhood, and far + overtopped Mrs. Rusker. ‘It isn’t for the first time.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I feared not,’ said the old woman. ‘You was allays main venturesome.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It will be for the last, for some time, Aunt Jenny. I leave Castle + Barfield to-morrow.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Leave Barfield?’ cried the old woman. ‘Why, Dick, wheer are ye goin’? You + ain’t agoin’ to do nothin’ rash, that I do hope.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I am going to London,’ said Dick, ‘and I must see Julia before I go. You + must help me. You are going to the house now, aren’t you?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Going to London?’ repeated Mrs. Eusker, who had no ears for the last + words after that announcement. ‘What’s made you so hot foot to go to + London all of a minute like?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It was decided to-day. My father suspects what is going on. I feel sure + of it, though he has never said a word about it. You know he always meant + to make a doctor of me—it was my own choice when I was quite a + little fellow, and it has always been understood. Last month he asked me + if I was of the same mind still, and to-day he told me that my seat is + taken in the coach from Birmingham. You know my father, Aunt Jenny, as + well as I do. He has been a very good father to me, and I would not give + him pain or trouble for the world. I could not refuse. Indeed, it is my + last chance of ever doing anything for myself and making a home for + Julia.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘My dear, they’ll never hear on it, nayther of ‘em. Samson Mountain ‘d + rather see his daughter in her coffin than married to any kin of Abel + Reddy’s. Though he loves her, too, in a kind o’ way. An’ your father’s + jist as hard; he’s on’y quieter with it, that’s all They’ll niver consent + Niver, i’ this world.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Then we must do without their consent, that’s all. I must see Julia + to-night, and you must help me. Tell her that I am here and must see her. + Oh, Aunt Jenny, you are surely not going to desert us now, after helping + us so often.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I’m dub’ous, my dear. I hope good may come of it, but I’m dub’ous. I’m + doubtful if I did right in helping you, again your father’s will, an’ Mr. + Mountain’s, too.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You won’t refuse to do so little, after doing so much,’ pleaded the young + man. ‘Why, it was at your house that I used to meet her, when we were + children together, and you first christened us Romeo and Juliet.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘A name o’ bad omen, my dear. I wish I hadn’t gi’en it to you now.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘For niver was a story o’ more woe, Than this o’ Jewliet an’ her Romeo.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t believe much in omens,’ said Dick. ‘But you will tell Julia that + I am here, won’t you? It’s the last time, for ever so long.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I’ll tell her,’ said Mrs. Rusker. ‘But don’t stay here; goo down to the + Five Ash. Mr. Mountain’s gone to Burmungem, an’ he’ll come across this way + when he comes back. You must tek a bit o’ care, Dick, for the gell’s + sake.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I’ll take care, dear. It’s good-bye this time, Aunt. You’ve been very + good to me always, and I shan’t forget your kindness while I’m away. And + you’ll be good to Julia, too, while—while I’m away, won’t you?’ + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Rusker’s objections had never had any heart in them, and had been + merely perfunctory, and such as she conceived her age and semi-maternal + authority compelled her to make. She was wholly given over to Dick and + Julia, and all her simple craft was for their service. She kissed him, and + cried over him, and so they parted, he bound for the Five Ash field, and + she for the farmhouse. + </p> + <p> + ‘Why, lacsaday, Jenny, whativer is the matter?’ asked Mrs. Mountain, when + her visitor entered her sitting-room, and gave her tear-stained cheek to + her old friend’s embrace. Julia, a lithe, graceful girl, rose at the query + from the other side of the little table, and came to Mrs. Rusker’s side. + </p> + <p> + ‘Why, you’re cryin’,’ continued the elder woman. ‘What is it, my dear, as + has upset you i’ this wise?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, my dear,’ said Mrs. Rusker, wiping her eyes and smoothing her + dress, as if her grief was done with and put away, ‘it ain’t a trouble as + I expects sympathy from you in.’ + </p> + <p> + Mother and daughter exchanged glances. + </p> + <p> + ‘It must be a queer sort o’ trouble, then,’ said Mrs. Mountain; ‘an’ you + might tell me what it is afore you say that, Mrs. Rusker, arter all these + ‘ears as we’n knowed each other.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, if you must know, I’ve jist sin young Reddy, i’ the road, jist + outside the Five Ash.’ Julia’s hand was on her shoulder as she spoke, and + she felt the soft touch tremble. ‘He’s a-leavin’ Barfield, agoin’ to + London, for a long time.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, that’s the matter, is it? Well, I don’t know anythin’ agin the young + man, barrin’ as he is a Reddy. An’ for the matter o’ that, though o’ + course a woman has no ch’ice but to stand by the kin as her marries into, + I niver found much harm in ‘em, unless it is as they’re a bit stuck up. I + know as you was allays fond on him, an’ I hope the young man ‘ll do well. + I’ve often said to Samson as it was all rubbidge, a-keepin’ up a old + quarrel like that, as keeps two dacent fam’lys at daggers drawn. Theer, + theer, let Julia get you a cup o’ tay, an’ let’s talk o’ somethin’ + cheerful.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I’ll go and send it in to you,’ said Julia. She exchanged one quick + glance of intelligence with the widow as she left the room. The old woman + had done her errand, and Julia knew where to seek her lover. She found her + hat in the hall, and slipped out by the back way, after directing the + servant to take in the required refreshment to Mrs. Busker. It was bright + moonlight now, and as she ran lightly across the Five Ash field in her + white summer dress, Dick, waiting in the shelter of the hedge, saw her + plainly, and advanced to meet her. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, Dick, is it true?’ + </p> + <p> + He took her in his arms and kissed her before he answered. ‘Yes, dear, + it’s true. I am going to London.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But why so suddenly, so soon?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I must, dear. It is my own choice. I am going to study, to fit myself to + take my place in the world, and to find a home for you. Be brave, dear. It + is only for a little time.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It is all so sudden.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes. I had hoped to stay a little longer, to see more of you, to get used + to my happiness before I lost it. But my father suspects, I am sure, if he + does not know, and I dared not refuse. It hurts me to go, but what can I + do? You know the man he is. And there is only one thing in the world that + your father would help him to do—to separate us. I must go away and + make a home for you with my own hands; we can expect no help from them. If + we are true to each other we shall be happy yet. Our love may end the + ridiculous family squabble which has lasted all these generations. But it + would be madness to speak yet.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It is that which makes me so unhappy, Dick. Why am I not like other + girls? Why can’t you come to the farm and ask my father’s leave to court + me, as other girls’ sweethearts do, and as you would like to do? I can’t + help feeling that this is wrong, meeting you in secret, and being engaged + to you against my father’s will, without his knowledge.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The quarrel is not of our making, Julia. We only suffer by it. I hope we + shall bring it to an end, and teach two honest men to live at peace + together, as they ought. Why, you’re crying.’ + </p> + <p> + Her tears had been running quietly for some minutes past, but at this she + began to sob unrestrainedly. Dick comforted her in the orthodox fashion, + and in that sweet employment almost succeeded in forgetting his own + sorrow. He drew bright pictures of the future: youth held the palette, and + hope laid on the colour. Two or three years of partial separation—so + little—and he would have a livelihood in his hand, and could offer + her a safe asylum from parental tyranny, and bid his own people either to + accept the situation or renounce him, as they might choose. He was quite + heroic internally about the whole business. He felt the promise of the + coming struggle brace his nerves, and he was more than ready for the test. + Young love is selfish at the best, and the heroic likeness of himself + doing battle with the world of London half obliterated the pitiful figure + of the poor girl, left at home, with nothing to fill her heart but dreams. + For him, the delight of battle; for her, long months of weary waiting. + </p> + <p> + It was no doubt of him, but only the rooted longing for assurance of his + love, that made her ask, + </p> + <p> + ‘You won’t forget me, Dick, in London?’ + </p> + <p> + Forget her! His repetition of the word, his little laugh of loving scorn, + were answer enough, though he found others, and arguments unanswerable, to + clinch them. How could he forget the sweetest, dearest girl that ever drew + the breath of life, the prettiest and the bravest? She spoke treason + against herself in asking such a question. He could no more forget her in + London than Romeo, Juliet in Mantua. She laughed a little at his recalling + the old story, from which Mrs. Jenny had drawn so many illustrations of + the course of their love since they were children. It recalled the old + woman to their minds. + </p> + <p> + ‘I shall write to you every week, and send the letters under cover to + her,’ said Dick. ‘And you may be sure that I shall find—or make—plenty + of opportunities to run down here from time to time. There is a coach + every day to Birmingham.’ + </p> + <p> + They had been walking slowly all this time. It was night now, the last + gleam of sunset had faded, the stars were lustrous overhead, and a yellow + moonlight flooded the surrounding country. A long distance off, faint but + clear in the dead hush of the summer night, they heard, but did not mark, + the beat of horses’ hoofs approaching them. + </p> + <p> + ‘I must go, Dick,’ said Julia. ‘It is late, and they will wonder where I + am No, let me go now, while I have the strength.’ + </p> + <p> + He took her in his arms again, and her head dropped on his shoulder, and + the tears began to run afresh. He held her close, but in that last moment + of parting could find no word of comfort, only dumb caresses. The + hoof-beats were near at hand now, just beyond the bend of the road. They + rounded the corner, and broke on the lovers’ ears with a loud and + startling suddenness. The girl broke away, and ran through the gate into + the field with a stifled sob. Dick turned, and walked down the road in the + direction of the approaching horseman. The moon was at the full, and shone + broadly upon his face and figure. + </p> + <p> + ‘Hullo!’ cried the rider, in gruff challenge, and pulling his horse into + Dick’s path, reined in. The young man looked up and recognised Samson + Mountain. Flight would have been as useless as ignominious, and it had + never been Dick’s way out of any difficulty. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well?’ he asked curtly, and stood his ground. + </p> + <p> + ‘Is that my daughter?’ demanded Mountain, pointing with his heavy whip + after the white figure glinting across the field. ‘Spake the truth for + once, though you be a Reddy.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s a habit we have,’ said Dick quietly. His calm almost surprised + himself. ‘Yes.’ + </p> + <p> + Mountain had always been of a heavy build, and of late years had increased + enormously in girth and weight. But his wrath at this confirmation of his + half guess stirred him so, that before the sound of the word had well died + out on the air he had dismounted, and came at the young man with his + riding-whip flourished above his head. + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t do that, sir.’ Dick spoke in a low voice, though quickly; and there + was something in his tone which brought the weapon harmlessly to the + farmer’s side again. ‘It is your daughter. We love each other, and she has + promised to be my wife.’ + </p> + <p> + Mountain staggered, as if the words had been a pistol bullet or a stab, + and struck furiously. Quick as was Dick’s parry, he only half saved + himself, his hat spun into the road, and the whip whistled within an inch + of his ear. He made a step back, and stopped a second furious stroke. The + whip broke in the old man’s hand, and he flung the remaining fragment from + him with a curse. + </p> + <p> + ‘I can’t strike you, sir,’ said Dick. ‘You’re her father.’ Mountain’s + choking breath filled in the pause, and Dick went on: ‘You know well + enough there’s not another man in England I’d take that from.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You’re a coward, like all your tribe,’ said Mountain. + </p> + <p> + ‘Not at all, I assure you, sir,’ said Dick calmly. ‘If you like to send + anybody else with that message, I’ll talk to him. Let us talk sensibly. + What harm have I ever done you? Or my father either? Why should two honest + families keep up this ridiculous story, which ought to have been buried + ages back? Why not let bygones be bygones? I love your daughter. I am a + young man yet, sir, with my way to make in the world, and I am going away + to London to study. I met your daughter to-night to say goodbye to her, + and if you had not come I should have gone away and said nothing until I + could come and claim her, with a home worthy of her to take her to. + </p> + <p> + But since you know, I speak now. We love each other, and intend to marry.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh!’ said Mountain. He had gone all on a sudden as cool as Dick, and + nothing but his stertorous breathing hinted of the rage which filled him. + ‘That’s it, is it? Then, if you’re finished, hear me. I ain’t got the gift + o’ the gab as free as you, but I can mek plain my meanin’, p’raps. I’d + rather see her a-layin’ theer ‘(he pointed with a trembling hand at the + ground between them); ‘I’d rather lay her there, dead afore my eyes, an’ + screw her in her coffin a’terwards, than you or any o’ your kin should as + much as look at her, wi’ my goodwill. And now you’ve got your answer, Mr. + Fair an’ Fine. Remember it, an’ look out for yourself. For, by the Lord! + ‘he went on, with a solemn malignity doubly terrible in a man whose + passion was ordinarily so violent, ‘if iver I ketch you round my house + again, I’ll put a bullet atween thy ribs as sure as my naame’s Samson + Mountain.’ + </p> + <p> + With this, he took his horse by the bridle, and passed through the gate, + leaving the young man to his own reflections. He took the beast to the + stable, delivered him into the care of a servant, and made straight for + the parlour, where his wife and Mrs. Rusker were seated at an early + supper. + </p> + <p> + ‘You’re back early, Sam,’ said the former, rising to draw an additional + chair to the table. ‘Wilt have some tay, or shall Liza draw you a jug o’ + beer?’ + </p> + <p> + Samson returned no answer, either to this or to Mrs. Rusker’s greeting. + </p> + <p> + ‘Lawk a mussy, what ails the man? ‘asked Mrs. Mountain, as Samson stood + looking round the room. She had never seen such an expression on her + husband’s face before. The skin was livid under its rude bronze, and his + lips twitched strangely. + </p> + <p> + ‘Wheer’s that wench of ourn?’ he asked, after a second glance round the + room, Mrs. Busker’s heart jumped, and she held on tight to the arm-pieces + of her chair. + </p> + <p> + ‘Julia?’ said Mrs. Mountain. ‘Her’s about the house, I reckon.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Call her here,’ said Samson; and his wife wondering, but not daring to + question, went to the door of the sitting-room and screamed ‘Julia!’ A + servant girl came running downstairs at the call, and said that Miss Julia + did not feel well, and had gone to bed. + </p> + <p> + ‘Fatch her down,’ said Samson from the sitting-room, and the girl, on + receipt of a confirmatory nod from Mrs. Mountain, went upstairs again. + Samson took a chair and sat with his head bent forward and his arms + folded, staring at the paper ornaments in the grate. + </p> + <p> + ‘Samson!’ said his wife appealingly, ‘don’t skeer a body i’ thisnin. + Whativer <i>is</i> the matter?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Hold thy chat,’ said Samson. ‘Thee’st know soon enough,’ and the trio sat + in silence until Julia entered the room. She was pale, and there were + traces of tears on her cheeks, and Samson, as he glanced at her askance + from under his heavy eyebrows before he rose, saw that she was struggling + to repress some strong emotion. She advanced to kiss him, but he repelled + her—not roughly—with his heavy hand upon her shoulder. + </p> + <p> + ‘You wanted to see me, father,’ she asked, trembling. + </p> + <p> + ‘I sent for you.’ + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Rusker was in a state of pitiable excitement, if anybody had had the + leisure to notice her. + </p> + <p> + ‘Theer’s some’at happened to-day as it’s fit an’ right as yo’ should know. + I met ode Raybould today i’ th’ Exchange, an’ he tode me some’at as I’d + long suspected, about his son Tom. I reckon you know what it was.’ + </p> + <p> + Julia knew well enough. Tom Raybould was a young farmer, a year or two + older than herself. She had known him all her life, and he had been a + schoolfellow and chosen chum of her brother’s. He had shown unmistakable + signs of affection for her, but had never spoken. He was a good fellow, + according to common report, and she had a good deal of liking and respect + for him, and a little pity, being a good girl, and no coquette. + </p> + <p> + ‘I see thee understandest,’ said Samson. ‘I told th’ ode man as he might + look on it as settled, an’ Tom ‘ll be here to-morrow. He’s a likely lad, + an’ he’ll have all the Bush Farm when his father goes, as must be afore + long, i’ the course o’ nature. The two farms ‘ll goo very well in a ring + fence. Theer’s no partic’lar hurry, as I know on, an’ we’ll ha’ the + weddin’ next wik, or the wik after.’ + </p> + <p> + The girl’s breast was labouring cruelly, in spite of the hand that strove + to still it. + </p> + <p> + ‘Father!’ she said. ‘You don’t mean it!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Eh?’ said Samson. ‘I ginerally mean what I say, my wench. I should ha’ + thout as yo’d ha’ known that by this time.’ + </p> + <p> + He stopped there, for Julia, but for her mother’s arm, would have fallen. + </p> + <p> + ‘You great oaf!’ cried Mrs. Mountain, irritated for once into open + rebellion. ‘Oh, it’s like a man, the stupid hulkin’ creeturs as they are, + to come an’ frighten the life out of a poor maid i’ that style.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Theer, theer!’ said Samson, with the same heavy and threatening + tranquillity he had borne throughout the interview. ‘Tek her upstairs.’ + </p> + <p> + He sat down again, and without another word filled and lit his + churchwarden, and stared through the smoke-wreaths at the grate. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + V + </h2> + <p> + Mrs. Jenny Rusker, who was half dead with fear of an <i>exposé</i> of her + part in this unlucky love-affair, was additionally prostrated by the dire + reversal of all her hopes by Samson Mountain’s ultimatum. Mrs. Mountain, + with the aid of a female servant, supported Julia upstairs, and Samson + smoked on stolidly, taking no note whatever of the visitor’s presence. + Still in doubt of what Samson might or might not know, and fearing almost + to breathe, lest any reminder of her presence should call down his wrath + upon her, she listened to the tramping and the muffled noises overhead + until they ceased, and then, gathering courage from his continued apathy, + slipped from the room and left the house. + </p> + <p> + She got home and went to bed and passed an interminable night in tossing + to and fro, and bewailing the untoward fate of the two children. Dawn came + at last, though it had seemed as if it never would break again, and, for + the first time for many a year, the first gleam of sunlight saw her + dressed and downstairs. She felt feverous and ill, and having brewed for + herself a huge jorum of tansy tea, sat down over this inspiring beverage, + and tried to pull her scattered wits together and think out some way of + untangling the skein of difficulty with which she had to deal. The danger + was pressing, and if she had been herself the poor lovesick girl who lay a + mile away, stifling her sobs lest they should reach her father’s ears, and + vainly calling on her lover’s name, she would scarcely have been more + miserable. + </p> + <p> + One thing was clear. Dick must be warned, and his journey to London + postponed by some device. He might lie hidden for a day or two in + Birmingham, and Julia be smuggled there and secretly married. It was no + time for half measures, and whatever was done should be done quickly and + decisively. At this idea, at once romantic and practical, Mrs. Jenny’s + spirits revived. + </p> + <p> + ‘Samson ‘ll disown Julia, I know. Her ‘ll never see a penny o’ his money. + An’ I doubt as Abel Reddy ‘ll do the same wi’ Dick. He’s just as hard and + bitter as th’ other, on’y quieter wi’ it. Well, they shan’t want while I’m + alive, nor after my death neither, and Dick ud make his own way with + nobody’s help. I’ll write to him, and find somebody to take the letter. I + won’t go myself, at this hour o’ the day.’ + </p> + <p> + She concocted a letter and sealed it, and putting on her bonnet sallied + out to find a messenger. Fate was so far propitious that scarce a hundred + yards from her door she met Ichabod Bubb, bound for his morning’s work at + Perry Hall Farm. Ichabod was bent and gnarled and twisted now, stiff in + all his joints and slow of movement, but his quaint visage bore the same + look of uncertain and rather wistful humour which had marked it in earlier + times. + </p> + <p> + ‘Morning, mum,’ he said, with a stiff-necked nod at Mrs. Jenny. + </p> + <p> + ‘Good-mornin’, Mr. Bubb,’ said the old lady. Ichabod beamed at this sudden + and unexpected ceremonial of title, and straightened his back. + </p> + <p> + ‘You ‘m afoot early, mum.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Why, yes. But it’s such a beautiful morning; it’s a shaame to lie abed a + time like this.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘So many folks, so many ways o’ thinkin’,’ said the ancient one; ‘not as + it’s a sin as I often commits, nayther, ‘cos why, I don’t get the chance.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I’ve got a bit o’ business as I want done, Mr. Bubb,’ said Mrs. Busker, + ‘if ye don’t mind earnin’ a shillin’.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Why,’ returned Ichabod, ‘I don’t know as I’ve got any, not to say rewted, + objection to makin’ a shillin’.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You’re goin’ to the farm?’ Ichabod nodded. ‘Then I want you to take this + note to Mr. Richard. But mind, you must get it to him private. Nobody else + must know. D’you understand?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I’m all theer, missus,’ responded Ichabod. + </p> + <p> + ‘Then there’s the note, an’ there’s the shillin’. An’ if you’re back in + two hours you shall have a pint o’ beer.’ Ichabod took the note and the + shilling, and clattered off with a ludicrous show of despatch, and the old + lady returned to her sitting-room to await the result of his message. It + came in less than the appointed time, and disappointed her terribly. + Ichabod had ascertained that Dick had started half an hour before his + arrival at the farm for Birmingham, and would only return to-morrow night + to sleep and take away his luggage on the following morning. + </p> + <p> + ‘And you come to me w’ a message like that, y’ ode gone-off!’ said the + exasperated old woman. ‘You might ha’ caught him up i’ the time as you’ve + wasted comin’ back here.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Caught him up,’ said Ichabod, with a glance at his legs. ‘Yis, likely, + like a cow might ketch a race-hoss. I’m a gay fine figure, missus, to + ketch up the best walker i’ the country-side.’ + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Jenny was a woman, and therefore to offer her reason as an antidote + to unreasoning anger was merely to heap fuel on flame. + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah!’ she said, reasonably enraged with the whole masculine half of her + species,’ you’re like the rest on ‘em.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Then I’m sorry for the rest on ‘em,’ said Ichabod, ‘whoever they may be.’ + Here Mrs. Jenny shut the door upon him, leaving him in the street, and + retired to her sitting-room. But with beer to be gained by boldness, + Ichabod was leonine in courage. He knocked, and the summons brought the + old lady to the door again. Ichabod spoke no word, but writhed his twisted + features into a grin which expressed at once humorous deprecation and + expectancy, and rabbed the back of his veiny hand across his bristly lips. + </p> + <p> + ‘Go round to the brewus,’ said Mrs. Jenny; ‘you’ll find the maid there. + It’s all you’re fit for, ye guzzlin’ old idiot.’ + </p> + <p> + Ichabod retired, elate. + </p> + <p> + ‘Her tongue’s a stinger; but, Lord bless thee, Ichabod, her bark’s a long + sight worse than her bite. An’ her beer’s main good.’ + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Jenny, meanwhile, retired to the sitting-room, and there sat immersed + in gloom. Things looked black for her young protégés, and fate was against + them. With that curious interest in familiar trifles which comes with any + fit of hopelessness or despondency, she sat looking at the furniture of + the room and the pictures which decorated the walls. Among these latter + was a work of her own hands, her masterpiece, a reproduction in coloured + wool of a German engraving of the last scene of <i>Romeo and Juliet</i>. + There was a pea-green Capulet paralytically embracing a sky-blue Montague + in the foreground, with a dissolving view of impossibly-constructed + servitors of both houses and the County Paris, with six strongly accented + bridges to his nose and a worsted tear upon his cheek, in the background. + Under this production was worked in white, upon a black ground, the legend + which Mrs. Rusker mournfully repeated as she gazed on it— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘For never was a story of more woe, + Than this of Juliet and her Romeo’; +</pre> + <p> + and as she spoke the words an inspiration flashed into her mind. She had + her plan. + </p> + <p> + The new-born idea so possessed her that she could not sit or rest. It + drove her out, as the gad-fly drove lo, to devious wanderings in the + neighbouring lanes, and as she walked and walked, finding some little ease + in the unusual and incessant exercise, she drew nearer and nearer to the + Mountain Farm. As she paused on a little eminence and looked towards it, + the distant church bell struck clear across the intervening fields, + proclaiming nine o’clock. + </p> + <p> + ‘Thank the Lord,’ said the old woman. ‘I can go now. I dussent go too + early. They might suspect.’ + </p> + <p> + She made straight for the house, and found Mrs. Mountain alone. Samson was + afield, and in answer to Mrs. Busker’s inquiries regarding Julia, Mrs. + Mountain tearfully informed her that the poor girl was too ill to come + downstairs, and had not eaten a crumb of the tempting breakfast prepared + and sent to her room for her. Mrs. Mountain was voluble in condemnation of + her husband’s lack of wit in his announcement of the matrimonial scheme he + had formed for the girl, and Mrs. Jenny was fluent and honest in sympathy. + Might she see the girl? Julia was fond of her, and her counsels might + bring some comfort. Mrs. Mountain yielded a ready assent, and the old lady + went up to the girl’s room, and entering on the languid summons which + followed her knock, saw Julia seated at the window, listless, dejected, + and tearful The tears flowed even more freely at the sight of her, and the + girl sobbed on her old friend’s breast in full abandonment to the first + great grief of her life. + </p> + <p> + ‘My dear,’ said Mrs. Jenny, when this gush of sorrow was over, ‘take a bit + o’ heart. Things is rarely as bad as they seem; an’ there’s help at hand + always if we on’y know where to look for it.’ + </p> + <p> + There was more meaning, to Julia’s thinking, in the tone in which this + commonplace condolence was delivered than in the words themselves. Mrs. + Rusker’s manner was big with mystery. + </p> + <p> + ‘Now, my darlin’, I know you ‘m a brave gal, and can act accordin’ when + there’s rayson for it. I’ve got a plan as ‘ll save you yet, if on’y you’ve + got the courage.’ + </p> + <p> + Julia’s clasped hands and eager look encouraged her to proceed. + </p> + <p> + ‘My dear, you remember <i>Romeo and Juliet?</i> You remember how Juliet + got the sleepin’ draught an’ took it? ‘Julia’s look was one of wonder, + pure and simple, now. ‘That’s my plan, my dear, an’ the Dudley Divil can + do it for us, if on’y you’ll ha’ the courage to tek it. Not as I mean as + you need be buried afore Dick comes to you. We shouldn’t go as far as + that. But I’ll get the stuff, an’ it’ll send you to sleep, an’ they’ll + think as you’re dead, an’ then I’ll tell ‘em how you an’ Dick loved each + other so’s you couldn’t bear to part wi’ him, an’ the fear of it’s killed + you. That’ll soften their hard hearts, my dear. Old Reddy knows all about + it—that’s why he’s sendin’ Dick away to London an’ I’ll get him + fetched back to see the last o’ you, an’ I’ll mek your father an’ his + father shaake hands, an’ then you’ll come to, an’ after that what can they + do but marry you to Dick, an’ forget all that rubbidge about the brook, + an’ live in peace together, as decent folk should do.’ + </p> + <p> + Julia’s reception of this brilliant scheme, which Mrs. Rusker developed + with a volubility which left no opportunity for detailed objection, was to + fall back in her chair and begin to cry anew at the sheer hopeless + absurdity of it. + </p> + <p> + ‘What’s the matter wi’ the wench?’ demanded Mrs. Rusker, almost sternly. + ‘Come, come,’ she continued, her brief anger fading at the sight of + Julia’s distress, ‘have a bit o’ sperrit. Now, will you try it? Spake the + word, an’ I’ll goo to the Divil this minute.’ + </p> + <p> + This wholesale self-abandonment in the cause of love produced no effect on + Julia, except to frighten her. Mrs. Rusker argued and reasoned, but + finding her fears too obdurate to be moved by any such means, left the + house in dudgeon, whereat poor Julia only cried the more. But Mrs. + Rusker’s confidence in her plan was unshaken, and her persistency + unchecked. She would save the silly girl against her will, since it must + be so, and half an hour after she had crossed the Mountain threshold she + was in her trap, <i>en route</i> for the dwelling of the wizard. + </p> + <p> + She found that celebrity alone, and opened fire on him at once. + </p> + <p> + ‘Ruffis, I want thy help, an’ I’m willin’ to pay fur it.’ The + necromancer’s fishy eye brightened. Things were going poorly with him, the + rising generation followed newer lights unevident in his earlier days, and + his visitors were mostly of Mrs. Rusker’s age, and were getting fewer day + by day. + </p> + <p> + ‘My skill’s at your service, ma’am, such as it is,’ he answered, with + gravity. + </p> + <p> + ‘I want some’at as ‘d send a body to sleep—mek ‘em sleep for a long + time, wi’out hurtin’ ‘em. Can you doit?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Why, yis; I could do that much, I think.’ His tone and manner intimated + vaguely how much more he could have done, and his disappointment at the + facility of his task. ‘But,’ he added prudently, ‘it’s a job as ain’t s’ + easy as you might fancy.’ + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Busker laid a sovereign on the table. + </p> + <p> + ‘Wilt do it for that?’ she asked. + </p> + <p> + The wizard stole a look at her. She was obviously very much in earnest. + </p> + <p> + ‘The hingredients,’ he said, ‘is hard to find, and harder to mix in doo + perportions.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I must have it now, and at once,’ said Mrs. Busker. + </p> + <p> + ‘That,’ said Rufus, ‘ain’t possible.’ Mrs. Jenny laid a second piece of + gold beside the first ‘It’s a dangerous bisness, missus,’ he went on. + ‘Theer’s noofangled laws about. ‘Twas only last wik as that young upstart, + Doctor Hodges, comes an’ threatens me with persecution as a rogue an’ + vagabond, a-obtainin’ money under false pertences for practisin’ my lawful + an’ necessary art. Why, it ain’t so long since I cured his mother o’ the + rheumatiz, as is more nor he can dew, wi’ all his drugs, an’ the pestle + an’ mortar o’er his door.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You ought to know as you’re safe wi’ me, Rufus,’ said Mrs. Rusker. ‘Who + should I tell? Why, I should tell o’ myself tew, at that raate; an’ is + that likely?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s dangerous, missus,’ repeated the wizard. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, if yo’ won’t, I must try them as wull,’ said Mrs. Jenny, rising and + taking up the coins. + </p> + <p> + ‘I didn’t say as I wouldn’t,’ returned Rufus. ‘Theer’s no call to be so + uppish But if I tek a chance like that I expect to be paid for it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Two pound ud mek it wuth your while to do more than that.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I’ll dew it,’ said the wizard. ‘Give us the money?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Wheer’s the stuff?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Why, it ain’t made yet. D’you think as I can percure a precious hessence + like that all of a minute?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Then mek it, an’ I’ll gie you the money.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Gi’ me a pound in advance, an’ I’ll bring it to you.’ And on that + understanding the bargain was made, and the time fixed for the delivery of + the potion. The intervening time was filled in by the astute wizard + journeying to a neighbouring town and procuring from a chemist a sleeping + draught, which he paid for out of Mrs. Busker’s sovereign. He turned up at + Laburnum Cottage at the stipulated hour, handed over the draught (having + previously washed off the chemist’s label), received his second sovereign, + and departed. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Rusker, with the fateful bottle in the bosom of her dress, betook + herself again to Mountain Farm. Her unfeigned interest in the patient, and + the intimacy she had so long enjoyed with the whole family, made the house + almost as free to her as was her own, and when she took possession of + Julia in the capacity of nurse she was made welcome, and the poor girl’s + other attendants hoped much from her ministration. Julia was undoubtedly + very ill, so ill that even Samson Mountain forbore to force her to descend + to the parlour in which Mr. Tom Raybould nervously awaited her coming, and + where, on Samson’s return from his daughter’s chamber, the pair sat and + drank their beer together in miserable silence, broken by spasmodic + attempts at conversation regarding crops and politics. The doctor had been + called in, and, knowing nothing of the grief which was the poor girl’s + only ailment, had been too puzzled by the symptoms of her malady to be of + any great service. She was feverish, excited, with a furred tongue and a + hot skin. He had prescribed a mild tonic and departed. Mrs. Jenny, intent + on the execution of her plan, gained solitary charge of her patient by + telling Mrs. Mountain that her attendance on her daughter had already told + upon her, and advising a few hours’ rest. + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t feel very well,’ Mrs. Mountain confessed. ‘Not a wink o’ sleep + have I had iver since Samson came home last night. Nor him nayther, for + the matter o’ that, though he tried to desave me by snorin’, whinever I + spoke to him; an’ as for any sympathy—well, you know him aforetime, + Jenny—I might as well talk to that theer poker.’ + </p> + <p> + Then Jenny was fluent in condolence, and at last got the old lady out of + the room. + </p> + <p> + ‘When did you take your medicine last, my dear?’ she asked the patient + ‘Ain’t it time as you had another drop?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It doesn’t do me any good,’ said the patient fretfully. She knew better + herself what was wrong with her than anybody else could guess, and only + longed passionately to be alone and free to think and cry over her lost + love and broken hopes. + </p> + <p> + ‘Why, my dear, you’ve on’y took one dose yit,’ said Machiavel. ‘You must + give it time. I’ll pour you out another.’ Her back was towards the patient + as she clattered about among the glasses on the table with a shaking hand. + She poured out the wizard’s potion, the phial clinking against the edge of + the glass like a castanet, and her heart beating so that she almost feared + Julia would hear it The girl at first pettishly refused the draught, but + Mrs. Jenny, in her guilty agitation, made short work of her objections, + and poured it down her throat almost by main force. + </p> + <p> + ‘Maids must do as their elders bid ‘em,’ she said, as she returned the + glass to its place. + </p> + <p> + ‘It doesn’t taste the same,’ moaned the patient + </p> + <p> + ‘You’re like all th’ other sick folk I iver nursed. As fall o’ fancies as + you can stick,’ said Mrs. Jenny. ‘Lie quiet, and try an’ go to sleep.’ + </p> + <p> + The girl lay silent, and Mrs. Jenny, more than half wishing the whole + business had never been begun, sat and listened to her breathing. She + stirred and sighed once or twice, but after a while lay so utterly still + that the old lady ventured to approach the bed. Julia’s face was almost as + white as her pillow, and her breath was so light that it hardly stirred + the coverlet above her bosom. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s a-workin,’ said Mrs. Rusker. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VI + </h2> + <p> + Mrs. Jenny’s simple faith in the talents of Rufus Smith underwent a severe + trial during the ensuing night. She had left Julia still sleeping, and the + memory of the last glance she had bestowed upon the white face in the + light of the carefully-shaded candle haunted her all night, and roused a + foreboding too dismal to be expressed, or even formulated in definite + thought. The matchmaker lay and trembled all night at that terrible idea, + and again the pale-faced dawn visited a sleepless pillow, and found her + haggard with anxiety and lack of sleep. Juliet’s query to the Friar had + been, ‘What if the potion should not work?’ but Mrs. Jenny’s terrified + inquiry of her own soul was, ‘What if it had worked too well?’ What if it + had killed Julia in very deed? It was too horrible to happen, Mrs. Jenny + said to herself. Too horrible to think of. But, if it had happened, she + would have nothing else to think of all her life, and the fancy drove her + nearly mad. + </p> + <p> + She was dressed and afoot even earlier than on the preceding morning. She + crept out and encircled the Mountain Farm in a radius of a mile or + thereabouts, looking anxiously towards it at every step, as if its silent + walls might speak comfort or confirm her fears, even at that distance. The + house looked peaceful enough amid its surrounding trees under the + tranquilly broadening light of dawn, but Mrs. Rusker knew how ghastly + white the face of the poor child she loved as her own might look in that + roseate glow. Presently a thin line of smoke curled from a chimney on the + noiseless air. The farm was waking to its daily round of life. A burly + figure on horseback came towards her as she stood on a little eminence. + She waited long enough to identify Samson Mountain, and hid among the + ferns and bushes until the horse’s hoof-beats had clattered swiftly by on + the stony road below her, and faded in the distance. + </p> + <p> + Time crept on, slow but inexorable. She longed, as she had never longed + before for anything, for the courage to go to the farmhouse and ask + tidings of Julia. But her fear was greater than her longing, and she + roamed at random in a circle, never losing sight of the house, but not + daring to approach it or be seen from its windows. She dreaded what might + be the news to greet her there. She feared her own face, with its haggard + lines of sleeplessness and anxious watching. At last, from the very depths + of her misery, she plucked the heart of despairing hope, and made for the + farm. The farm labourers and country folk she met stared after her. Even + their bovine understandings were troubled by her scared face. She scarcely + saw them, or anything but the farmhouse, which drew her now with an + influence as strong as its repulsion had been an hour ago. She entered the + house by the back door, and made straight for the sitting-room. Mrs. + Mountain was there, arranging a tray, on which were tea and jam and other + homely luxuries. She wore her ordinary look of placid contentment, and at + the sight of her quiet face Mrs. Rusker dropped panting, with a vague + unformulated feeling of relief, into a chair. + </p> + <p> + ‘Sakes alive! Whativer is the matter?’ demanded Mrs. Mountain. + </p> + <p> + ‘Julia!’ panted the visitor. ‘How’s Julia?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Why,’ said Mrs. Mountain, ‘how should her be?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Is she awake yet?’ asked Mrs. Jenny, more calmly. + </p> + <p> + ‘No. Her was sleepin’ when I seed her, jist for a minute, a hour ago. I’m + jist goin’ upstairs wi’ some breakfast for her. Well, I declare, yo’ look + as pale as a ghost. What’s the matter with you?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, I’ve passed a miserable night,’ said Mrs. Jenny, in unconscious + quotation from her favourite poet. ‘I couldn’t sleep a-thinkin’ o’ Julia.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, then, you do look poorly,’ said her hostess, with all her motherly + heart warmed by this solicitude for her daughter. ‘Why, theer’s no cause + to fret i’ that way. To be sure, Samson might ha’ knowed better than to + blunder such a thing as that right out, but, then, he’s a man, and that’d + account for a’most anything. Married life might teach ‘em better, you’d + think, and yet after nigh on forty year on it he knows no more about women + folk than any bachelor i’ Barfield. Theer, tek your bonnet off, an’ I’ll + gi’ ye a cup o’ tay, an’ then you can goo upstairs wi’ me and see the + wench.’ + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Jenny gratefully accepted the proffered tea, and, having drunk it, + much to her inward refreshment, accompanied Mrs. Mountain upstairs. As the + latter had said, the girl was sleeping still, and Mrs. Busker saw that her + position had not changed by a hair’s breadth. She lay like a carven + statue, her face marble white in the clear morning light. + </p> + <p> + ‘I’m a’most doubtful about wakin’ her,’ said her mother. ‘Theer’s no doubt + as Samson gi’en her a shock, an’ sleep’s good for her. But her’s had welly + fifteen hours of it now, if she’s been asleep all the tima Julia, my + love,’ she said softly, almost in the sleeper’s ear. ‘My sakes, how pale + her is. Jenny! come here!’ + </p> + <p> + They both bent above her. Mrs. Rusker’s heart was beating like a muffled + drum, and seemed, to her own ears, to fill the house with its pulsation. + </p> + <p> + ‘Julia!’ said Mrs. Mountain again, in a louder voice, and shook the girl + with a tremulous hand, ‘Julia!’ + </p> + <p> + The white eyelids did not even stir. + </p> + <p> + ‘My blessid! Julia! Don’t skeer a body i’ this way!’ She shook the girl + again. ‘Jenny! whativer’s come to the silly wench?’ + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Jenny was more frightened, and with better reason, than her + companion. Julia’s marble pallor, and the awful stillness of her form—the + keenest glance could not detect a quiver in the face or a heave of the + bosom—almost stilled that exigent pulse within her own breast with a + sudden anguish of despair. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, Jenny, she’s a-dyin’!’ + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Mountain’s scream rang through the house, and startled every soul + within it, except that marble figure on the bed. Hurried steps came up the + stairs, the heavy tread of a man, the light patter of women’s feet, and + the room filled as if by magic. + </p> + <p> + ‘Fetch a doctor,’ screamed Mrs. Jenny; ‘Julia’s a-dyin’!’ + </p> + <p> + Samson Mountain stood for one moment with his hands aloft and his eyes + glaring at his daughter. Then he dropped with a sobbing groan into a + chair, with his head in his hands. There was a general scream from the + women. One, more serviceable than the rest, called from the window to a + gaping yokel below in the yard, and bade him ride for help. Her face and + voice froze him for a moment, but he caught the words ‘Miss Julia,’ and + two minutes after he was astride a broad-backed plough-horse, making for + the distant village. + </p> + <p> + Samson Mountain sat with his face hidden and spoke no word; at the sight + of him his wife’s face had turned to sudden rage, and she stood over him + like a ruffled hen, and clacked commination of masculine imbecility, + intermixed with wild plaints for her child. + </p> + <p> + Julia slept through the tumult as she had slept through the calm, and Mrs. + Jenny, kneeling beside her with her face in the bedclothes, moaned love + and penitent despair. Samson raised his head at last, and looked with a + dazed stare first at his daughter and then at his wife, and left the room + without a word, pursued by a hailstorm of reproach. He went into the yard + and pottered aimlessly about, looking old and broken on a sudden. The + sound of horses’ hoofs roused him; it was the rustic messenger returning. + ‘Where’s the doctor?’ demanded Samson. ‘Gone to Heydon Hey. What am I to + dew?’ ‘Follow him an’ fetch him back. Hast not gumption enough to know + that?’ asked Samson wearily. The man started again, and Samson began once + more his purposeless wanderings about the yard. He had no sense of time or + place, only a leaden weight on heart and limb, which in all his life he + had never known before. He leaned his elbows on the fence of the fold + yard, and became conscious of a running figure which neared him rapidly. + He watched it stupidly, and it was within twenty yards of him before he + recognised it—Dick Reddy, dust and mud to the collar, hatless, and + panting. + </p> + <p> + ‘Julia!’ he gasped. ‘Tell me, is it true?’ ‘Julia’s dyin,’ said Samson. + ‘My God!’ he cried, with sudden passion, as if his own voice had unlocked + the sealed fountain of his grief, ‘my little gell’s a-dyin’!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Mr. Mountain,’ said Dick, ‘I love her, you know I love her. Let me see + her.’ His voice, broken with fatigue and emotion, his streaming eyes, his + outstretched hands, all pleaded with his words. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s all one who sees her now,’ said Samson, and leaned his elbows on the + fence again. Dick took the despairing speech for a permission, and entered + the house. At the bottom of the stairs, in the otherwise deserted hall, he + met Mrs. Jenny, a very moving statue of terror. + </p> + <p> + ‘Dick,’ she said, clutching the young man by the arm, ‘I can’t abear it + any longer. Come in here wi’ me.’ She pulled him into a side room, and + sitting down, abandoned herself to weeping, wringing her hands, and + moaning. + </p> + <p> + ‘I can’t abear it any longer,’ she repeated. ‘I must tell somebody, an’ + I’ll tell you. It’s all my wicked cruel fault.’ + </p> + <p> + The old woman was so crazed with her secret that she would have spoken in + the shadow of the gibbet. Ramblingly and incoherently, with many breaks + for tears and protestations and self-accusation, she told her story. + </p> + <p> + ‘I’ve killed her, Dick. But it was for your sake and hers as I done it. I + reckon they’ll hang me, an’ it’ll serve me right.’ She besought him not to + betray her, and, in the same breath, announced her intention to surrender + herself at once to the parish constable; and, indeed, between fear and + remorse and sorrow for the hopeless love she had striven to befriend, was + nearly mad. Dick heard her with such amazement as may be best imagined, + and suddenly, with a cry that rang in her ears for many a long day + afterwards, ran from her and scaled the stairs to Julia’s room, led + thither by the sound of Mrs. Mountain’s weeping. The old woman stared, as + well she might, at the intrusion, with a wonder which for a moment + conquered sorrow. He went straight to the bed, and leaned over the stark + figure upon it. + </p> + <p> + ‘She’s not dead yet,’ he said, more to himself than to the grief-stricken + mother. Mrs. Mountain heard the words, and clutched his arm. He turned to + her. ‘Trust me,’ he said, ‘and I’ll save her.’ The wild hope in the + mother’s eyes was terrible to see. ‘I love her,’ said Dick. ‘You will + trust me? Do as I bid you, and you shall have Julia back in an hour.’ + </p> + <p> + Samson Mountain meanwhile wandered in the same purposeless fashion about + the farm, and held dumb converse with himself. He was a rough man, + something of a brute—a good deal of an animal—but animals have + their affections, and he loved Julia as well as it was in his nature to + love anything. It was ingrained in him by nature and by years of + unquestioned domination to bully and browbeat all defenceless people; but + Julia, the most defenceless of his surroundings, had been treated always + with a lighter hand. Childlike, she had taken advantyage of her immunity + in many little ways, and though Samson had never forborne to bluster at + her girlish insubordination, he rather liked it than not, and relished his + daughter’s independence and spirit. Julia was the only creature in the + household who dared to hold her own against him. He was proud of her + beauty and what he called her ‘lurning,’ and, more or less grumblingly, + petted her a good deal, and would have spoiled her had she been of + spoilable material. But till this heavy blow fell he had never sounded the + depths of his own affection for her. The suddenness of the blow stunned + and bewildered him. He remembered his words to Dick during their stormy + interview in the road, when he had said that he would rather see Julia + dead than married to him. Had Providence taken him at his word? He did not + say it, he did not even think it consciously, but he would have submitted + to almost any conceivable indignity at the hands of Abel Eeddy himself, to + have felt his daughter’s arms about his neck again. Little incidents of + Julia’s past life were fresh and vivid in his memory. He had forgotten + many of them, years ago, but they sprang up in his mind now, like things + of yesterday. + </p> + <p> + He had wandered back to the front of the house, and sat upon the rustic + bench beside the porch, with his elbows propped upon his knees, and his + eyes hidden in his shaking hands, when a voice fell on his ear. + </p> + <p> + ‘Neighbour!’ + </p> + <p> + He raised his head. Abel Reddy stood before him. + </p> + <p> + With something of the old instinct of hatred he had believed to be + unconquerable he rose and straightened himself before the hereditary + enemy. + </p> + <p> + ‘Neighbour,’ said Reddy again. The word was pacific, but Mountain’s + blurred eyes, dim with pain and dazzled by the sunlight, could not see the + pity in his old enemy’s face, and he waited doggedly. ‘It’s come to my + ears as you’re i’ sore trouble. So am I. Your trouble’s mine, though not + so great for me as it is for you, I was wi’ Dick when he heard o’ your + daughter’s danger, an’ what I’d suspected a long time I know now to be the + truth. I did my best to keep ‘em apart—it was that as Dick was going + to London for. It seemed to behove me to come to you and offer you my hand + i’ your affliction. I take shame to myself that I didn’t mek an effort to + end our quarrel long ago. We’re gettin’ on in life, Mr. Mountain, and + we’ve got th’ excuse o’ hot blood no longer.’ + </p> + <p> + Therewith he held out his hand, and Samson, with hanging head, took it + with a growl, which might have been anathema or blessing. And as the + life-long enemies stood so linked, a window was suddenly opened above, and + Mrs. Mountain’s voice screamed to her husband, + </p> + <p> + ‘Samson! Her’s alive! Her’s awake! ‘Both men looked up, and beheld an + unexpected picture framed by the open window, Dick violently embraced by + Mrs. Mountain, and submitting to the furious assault with obvious + goodwill. + </p> + <p> + ‘When the liquor’s out, why clink the cannikin?’ The story of Julia and + her Romeo, like all other stories, had found its end, and merged a little + later into the history of Mr. and Mrs. Richard Reddy. The family feud was + buried, and Samson and Abel made very passable grandfathers and dwelt in + peace one with another. Dick never told a living soul, not even Julia + herself, of the stratagem by which Mrs. Jenny had succeeded in uniting + them, and Mrs. Jenny, by complete reticence on the subject, disproved the + time-worn calumny which declares woman’s inability to keep a secret. + </p> + <p> + THE END <br /> <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Julia And Her Romeo: A Chronicle Of +Castle Barfield, by David Christie Murray + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JULIA AND HER ROMEO *** + +***** This file should be named 22274-h.htm or 22274-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/2/2/7/22274/ + +Produced by David Widger + +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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