diff options
| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 02:06:10 -0700 |
|---|---|---|
| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 02:06:10 -0700 |
| commit | 2aed9f4898f1d4171f5f7f3c9ab2a59c4f175fba (patch) | |
| tree | 483104595829bb9d691f26aa54f42e705bcf3164 | |
| -rw-r--r-- | .gitattributes | 3 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 23647-h.zip | bin | 0 -> 205759 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 23647-h/23647-h.htm | 10414 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 23647.txt | 10245 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 23647.zip | bin | 0 -> 200554 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | LICENSE.txt | 11 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | README.md | 2 |
7 files changed, 20675 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/23647-h.zip b/23647-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..8dd39d5 --- /dev/null +++ b/23647-h.zip diff --git a/23647-h/23647-h.htm b/23647-h/23647-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..fdd694b --- /dev/null +++ b/23647-h/23647-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,10414 @@ +<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN"> +<html> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=ISO-8859-1"> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Shining Ferry, by Sir Arthur Thomas Quiller-Couch</title> +<style type="text/css"> + body {background:#fdfdfd; + color:black; + font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; + font-size: medium; + margin-top:100px; + margin-left:12%; + margin-right:12%; + text-align:justify; } + h1, h2, h3, h4, h5 {text-align: center; } + p {text-indent: 4%; } + p.noindent {text-indent: 0%; } + hr.full { width: 100%; + height: 5px; } + hr.narrow { width: 40%; + text-align: center; } + blockquote.footnote { font-size: small; } + .caption { font-size: small; + font-weight: bold; } + .center { text-align: center; } + .ind1 {margin-left: 1em; } + .ind2 {margin-left: 2em; } + .ind3 {margin-left: 3em; } + .ind4 {margin-left: 4em; } + .ind5 {margin-left: 5em; } + .ind6 {margin-left: 6em; } + .ind7 {margin-left: 7em; } + .ind8 {margin-left: 8em; } + .ind9 {margin-left: 9em; } + .ind10 {margin-left: 10em; } + .ind11 {margin-left: 11em; } + .ind12 {margin-left: 12em; } + .ind13 {margin-left: 13em; } + .ind14 {margin-left: 14em; } + .ind15 {margin-left: 15em; } + .ind16 {margin-left: 16em; } + .ind17 {margin-left: 17em; } + .ind18 {margin-left: 18em; } + .ind19 {margin-left: 19em; } + .ind20 {margin-left: 20em; } + .large {font-size: large; } + table { font-size: medium; } + a:link {color:blue; + text-decoration:none} + link {color:blue; + text-decoration:none} + a:visited {color:blue; + text-decoration:none} + a:hover {color:red} + pre {font-size: 80%; } +</style> +</head> +<body> +<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook, Shining Ferry, by Sir Arthur Thomas +Quiller-Couch</h1> +<pre> +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 <a href = "http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre> +<p>Title: Shining Ferry</p> +<p>Author: Sir Arthur Thomas Quiller-Couch</p> +<p>Release Date: November 28, 2007 [eBook #23647]</p> +<p>Language: English</p> +<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p> +<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SHINING FERRY***</p> +<br><br><center><h3>E-text prepared by Lionel Sear</h3></center><br><br> +<hr class="full" noshade> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<h2>SHINING FERRY.</h2> + +<h4>By</h4> + +<h2>Arthur Thomas Quiller-Couch ("Q").</h2> +<br><br><br> + +<h5>1910</h5> +<h5>This etext prepared from a reprint of a version published in 1905.</h5> + +<br><br><br> +<h3>CONTENTS</h3> +<br><br><br> +<h3>BOOK I.</h3> + + +<center> +<p> </p> +<table cellpadding= "2"> +<tr><td align="center" valign="top">Chapter</td><td> </td></tr> + + +<tr><td align= "right" valign= "top">I. </td><td><a href = "#1"> ROSEWARNE OF HALL.</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align= "right" valign= "top">II. </td><td><a href = "#2"> FATHERS AND CHILDREN.</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align= "right" valign= "top">III. </td><td><a href = "#3"> ROSEWARNE'S PILGRIMAGE.</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align= "right" valign= "top">IV. </td><td><a href = "#4"> ROSEWARNE'S PENANCE.</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align= "right" valign= "top">V. </td><td><a href = "#5"> THE CLOSE OF A STEWARDSHIP.</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">VI. </td><td><a href = "#6"> THE RAFTERS.</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align= "right" valign= "top">VII. </td><td><a href = "#7"> THE HEIRS OF HALL.</a></td></tr> + +</table> +</center> + + +<br><br><br><br><br> +<h3>BOOK II.</h3> + + + +<center> +<p> </p> +<table cellpadding= "2"> +<tr><td align="center" valign="top">Chapter</td><td> </td></tr> + + +<tr><td align= "right" valign= "top">VIII. </td><td><a href = "#8"> HESTER ARRIVES.</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align= "right" valign= "top">IX. </td><td><a href = "#9"> MR. SAMUEL'S POLICY.</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align= "right" valign= "top">X. </td><td><a href = "#10">NUNCEY.</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align= "right" valign= "top">XI. </td><td><a href = "#11"> HESTER IS ACCEPTED.</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align= "right" valign= "top">XII. </td><td><a href = "#12"> THE OPENING DAY.</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XIII. </td><td><a href = "#13"> TOM TREVARTHEN INTERVENES.</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align= "right" valign= "top">XIV. </td><td><a href = "#14"> MR. SAM IS MAGNANIMOUS.</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align= "right" valign= "top">XV. </td><td><a href = "#15"> MYRA IN DISGRACE.</a></td></tr> + +</table> +</center> + + +<br><br><br><br><br> +<h3>BOOK III.</h3> + + +<center> +<p> </p> +<table cellpadding= "2"> +<tr><td align="center" valign="top">Chapter</td><td> </td></tr> + + +<tr><td align= "right" valign= "top">XVI. </td><td><a href = "#16"> AUNT BUTSON CLOSES SCHOOL.</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align= "right" valign= "top">XVII. </td><td><a href = "#17"> PETER BENNEY'S DISMISSAL.</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align= "right" valign= "top">XVIII. </td><td><a href = "#18"> RIGHT OF FERRY.</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align= "right" valign= "top">XIX. </td><td><a href = "#19"> THE INTERCEDERS.</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align= "right" valign= "top">XX. </td><td><a href = "#20"> AN OUTBURST.</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XXI. </td><td><a href = "#21"> MR. BENNY GETS PROMOTION.</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align= "right" valign= "top">XXII. </td><td><a href = "#22"> CLEM IS LOST TO MYRA.</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align= "right" valign= "top">XXIII. </td><td><a href = "#23"> HESTER WRITES A LOVE LETTER.</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align= "right" valign= "top">XXIV. </td><td><a href = "#24"> THE RESCUE.</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align= "right" valign= "top">XXV. </td><td><a href = "#25"> BUT TOM CAN WRITE.</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align= "right" valign= "top">XXVI. </td><td><a href = "#26"> MESSENGERS.</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align= "right" valign= "top">XXVII. </td><td><a href = "#27"> HOME.</a></td></tr> +</table> +</center> + + +<br><br><br><br> + + + +<br><br> +<p><a name = "1"></a> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER I.</h3> + +<h4>ROSEWARNE OF HALL.</h4> +<br> + +<p>John Rosewarne sat in his counting-house at Hall, dictating a letter to +his confidential clerk. The letter ran—</p> + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p class = "noindent"><i> "Dear Sir,—In answer to yours of the 6th inst., I beg to inform you + that in consequence of an arrangement with the Swedish firms, by + which barrel-staves will be trimmed and finished to three standard + lengths before shipment, we are enabled to offer an additional + discount of five per cent, for the coming season on orders of five + thousand staves and upwards. Such orders, however, should reach us + before the fishery begins, as we hold ourselves free to raise the + price at any time after 1st July. A consignment is expected from the + Baltic within the next fortnight."</i></p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + +<p>The little clerk looked up. His glance inquired, "Is that all?"</p> + +<p>"Wait a minute." His master seemed to be reflecting; then leaning back in +his chair and gripping its arms while he stared out of the bow-window +before him, he resumed his dictation—</p> + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p class = "noindent"><i> "I hope to be in Plymouth on Wednesday next, and that you will hold + yourself ready for a call between two and three in the afternoon at + your office."</i></p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + +<p>"I beg your pardon, sir," the clerk interposed, "but Mr. Samuel closes +early on Wednesdays.</p> + +<p>"I know it. Go on, please—</p> + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p class = "noindent"><i> "I have some matters to discuss alone with you, and they may take a + considerable time. Kindly let me know by return if the date + suggested is inconvenient."</i></p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + +<p>"That will do." He held out his hand for the paper, and signed it, +"Yours truly, John Rosewarne," while the clerk addressed the envelope. +This concluded their day's work.</p> + +<p>Rosewarne pulled out his watch, consulted it, and fell again to staring +out of the open window. A climbing Banksia rose overgrew the sill and ran +up the mullions, its clusters of nankeen buds stirred by the breeze and +nodding against the pale sunset sky. Beyond the garden lay a small +orchard fringed with elms; and below this the slope fell so steeply down +to the harbourthat the elm-tops concealed its shipping and all but the +chimney-smoke of a busy little town on its farther shore. High over this +smoke the rooks were trailing westward and homeward.</p> + +<p>Rosewarne heard the clank of mallets in a shipbuilding yard below. +Then five o'clock struck from the church tower across the water, and the +mallets ceased; but far down by the harbour's mouth the crew of a +foreign-bound ship sang at the windlass—</p> + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p class = "noindent">"Good-bye, fare-ye-well—Good-bye, fare-ye-well!"</p> +</blockquote></blockquote> +<p>[In the original text a short length of musical score is shown]</p> + +<p>The vessel belonged to him. He controlled most of the shipping and a good +half of the harbour's trade. As for the town at his feet, had you +examined his ledgers you might fancy its smoke ascending to him as +incense. He sat with his strong hand resting on the arms of his chair, +with the last gold of daylight touching his white hair and the lines of +his firm, clean-shaven face, and overlooked his local world and his +possessions. If they brought him happiness, he did not smile.</p> + +<p>He aroused himself with a kind of shake of the shoulders, and stretched +out a hand to ring, as his custom was after the day's work, for a draught +of cider.</p> + +<p>"Eh? Anything more?" he asked; for the little clerk, having gathered up +his papers, had advanced close to the corner of the writing-table, and +waited there with an air of apology.</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon, sir—the 28th of May. I had no opportunity this +morning, but if I may take the liberty."—</p> + +<p>"My birthday, Benny? So it is; and, begad, I believe you're the only soul +to remember it. Stay a moment."—</p> + +<p>He rang the bell, and ordered the maidservant to bring in a full jug of +cider and two glasses. At the signal, a small Italian greyhound, who had +been awaiting it, came forward fawning from her lair in the corner, and, +encouraged by a snap of the fingers, leapt up to her master's knee.</p> + +<p>"May God send you many, sir, and His mercy follow you all your days!" said +little Mr. Benny, with sudden fervour. Relapsing at once into his +ordinary manner, he produced a scrap of paper and tendered it shyly. +"If you will think it appropriate," he explained.</p> + +<p>"The usual compliment? Hand it over, man." Mr. Rosewarne took the paper +and read—</p> + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p class = "noindent"> "Another year, another milestone past;<br> + Dear sir, I hope it will not be the last:<br> + But more I hope that, when the road is trod,<br> + You find the Inn, and sit you down with God."<br></p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + +<p>"Thank you, Benny. Your own composition?"</p> + +<p>"I ventured to consult my brother, sir. The idea—if I may so call it— +was mine, however."</p> + +<p>Mr. Rosewarne leant forward, and picking up a pen, docketed the paper with +the day of the month and the year. He then pulled out a drawer on the +left-hand side of his knee-hole table, selected a packet labelled +"Complimentary, P. B."—his clerk's initials—slipped the new verses under +the elastic band containing similar contributions of twenty years, +replaced the packet, and shut the drawer. The little greyhound, displaced +by these operations, sprang again to his knees, and he fell to fondling +her ears.</p> + +<p>"I do not think there will be many more miles, Benny," said he, reaching +for the cider-jug. "But let us drink to the rest of the way."</p> + +<p>"A great many, I hope, sir," remonstrated Mr. Benny. "And, sir—talking +about milestones—you will be pleased to hear that Mrs. Benny was confined +this morning. A fine boy."</p> + +<p>"That must be the ninth at least."</p> + +<p>"The eleventh, sir—six girls and five boys: besides three buried."</p> + +<p>"Good Lord!"</p> + +<p>"They bring their love with them, sir, as the saying is."</p> + +<p>"And as the saying also is, Benny, it would be more to the purpose if they +brought their boots and shoes. Man, you must have a nerve, to trust +Providence as you do!"</p> + +<p>"It's a struggle, sir, as you can guess; but except to your kindness in +employing me, I am beholden to no man. I say it humbly—the Lord has been +kind to me."</p> + +<p>Rosewarne looked up for a moment and with a curious eagerness, as though +on the point of putting a question. He suppressed it, however.</p> + +<p>"It seems to me," he said slowly, "in this question of many children or +few there's a natural conflict between the private man and the citizen; +yes, that's how I put it—a natural conflict. I don't believe in Malthus +or any talk about over-population. A nation can't breed too many sons. +Sons are her strength, and if she is to whip her rivals it will be by the +big battalions. Therefore, as I argue it out, a good citizen should beget +many children. But now turn to the private side of it. A man wants to do +the best for his own; and whatever his income, he can do better for two +children than for half a dozen. To be sure, he mayn't turn 'em out as he +intended."—</p> + +<p>Here Rosewarne paused for a while unwittingly, as his eyes fell on the +packet of letters in Mr. Benny's hand. The uppermost—the business +letter which he had just signed—was addressed to his only son.</p> + +<p>"—But all the same," he went on, "he has fitted them out and given them +a better chance in the struggle for life. The devil takes the hindmost +in this world, Benny. I'd like to lend you a book of Darwin's—the +biggest book of this century, and a new gospel for the next to think out. +The conclusion is that the spoils go to the strongest. You may help a man +for the use you can make of him, but in the end every man's your natural +enemy."</p> + +<p>"A terrible gospel, sir! I shall have to get along with the old one, +which says, 'Bear ye one another's burdens.'"</p> + +<p>"I won't lend you the book. 'Twouldn't be fair to a man of your age, with +eleven children. And after all, as I said, the new gospel has a place for +patriots. They breed the raw material by which a nation crushes all +rivals; then, when the fighting is over, along comes your man with money +and a trained wit, and collars the spoils."</p> + +<p>Mr. Benny stood shuffling his weight from one foot to the other. +"Even if yours were the last word in this world, sir, there's another to +reckon with."</p> + +<p>"And meanwhile you're on pins and needles to be off to your wife's +bedside. Very well, man—drink up your cider; and many thanks for your +good wishes!"</p> + +<p>As Mr. Benny hurried towards the wicket-gate and the street leading down +to the ferry, he caught sight, across the hedge, of two children seated +together in a corner of the garden on the step of a summer arbour, and +paused to wave a hand to them.</p> + +<p>They were a girl and a boy—the girl about eight years old and the boy a +year or so younger—and the pair were occupied in making a garland such as +children carry about on May-morning—two barrel-hoops fixed crosswise and +mounted on a pole. The girl had laid the pole across her lap, and was +binding the hoops with ferns and wild hyacinths, wallflowers, and garden +tulips, talking the while with the boy, who bent his head close by hers +and seemed to peer into the flowers. But in fact he was blind.</p> + +<p>"You're late!" the girl called to Mr. Benny. At the sound of her voice, +the boy too waved a hand to him.</p> + +<p>"It's your grandfather's birthday, and I've been drinking his health." +He beckoned them over to the hedge. "And it's another person's birthday," +he announced mysteriously.</p> + +<p>"Bless the man! you don't tell me you've gone and got another!" exclaimed +the girl.</p> + +<p>Mr. Benny nodded, no whit abashed.</p> + +<p>"Boy or girl?"</p> + +<p>"Boy."</p> + +<p>"What is he like?" asked the boy. His blindness came from some defect of +the optic nerve, and did not affect the beauty of his eyes, which were +curiously reflective (as though they looked inwards), and in colour a deep +violet-grey.</p> + +<p>"I hadn't much time to take stock of him this morning," Mr. Benny +confessed; "but the doctor said he was a fine one." He nodded at the +garland. "Birthday present for your grandfather?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Grandfather doesn't bother himself about us," the girl answered. +"Besides, what would he do with it?"</p> + +<p>"I know—I know. It's better be unmannerly than troublesome, as they say; +and you'd like to please him, but feel too shy to offer it. That's like +me. I had it on my tongue just now to ask him to stand godfather—the +child's birthday being the same as his own. 'Twas the honour of it I +wanted; but like as not (thought I) he'll set it down that I'm fishing for +something else, and when it didn't strike him to offer I felt I couldn't +mention it."</p> + +<p>"<i>I'll</i> ask him, if you like."</p> + +<p>"Not on any account! No, please, you mustn't! Promise me."</p> + +<p>"Very well."</p> + +<p>"I oughtn't to have mentioned it, but,"—Mr. Benny rubbed the back of his +head. "You don't know how it is—no, of course you wouldn't; somehow, +when a child's born, I want to be talking all day."</p> + +<p>"Like a hen. Well, run along home, and some day you shall ask us to tea +with it."</p> + +<p>But Mr. Benny had reached the wicket. It slammed behind him, and he ran +down the street to the ferry at a round trot. He might have spared his +haste, for he had to cool his heels for a good ten minutes on the slipway, +and fill up the time in telling his news to half a dozen workmen gathered +there and awaiting the boat. Old Nicky Vro, the ferryman, had pulled the +same leisurable stroke for forty years now, and was not to be hurried.</p> + +<p>The workmen were carpenters, all engaged upon the new schoolhouse above +the hill, and returning from their day's job. They discussed the building +as Nicky Vro tided them over. Its fittings, they agreed, were something +out of the common.</p> + +<p>"'Tis the old man's whim," said one. "He's all for education now, and the +latest improvements. 'Capability'—that's his word."</p> + +<p>"A poor lookout it'll be for Aunt Butson and her Infant School."</p> + +<p>"He'll offer her the new place, maybe," it was suggested.</p> + +<p>But all laughed at this. "What? with his notions? He's a darned sight +more likely to offer her Nicky's job, here!"</p> + +<p>Nicky smiled complacently in his half-witted way. "That's a joke, too," +said he. He knew himself to be necessary to the ferry.</p> + +<p>He pulled on—still with the same digging stroke which he could not have +altered for a fortune—while his passengers discussed Rosewarne and +Rosewarne's ways.</p> + +<p>"Tis a hungry gleaning where he've a-reaped," said the man who had spoken +of capability; "but I don't blame the old Greek—not I. 'Do or be done, +miss doing and be done for'—that's the world's motto nowadays; and if I +hadn't learnt it for myself, I've a son in America to write it home. +Here we be all in a heap, and the lucky one levers himself a-top."</p> + +<p>Mr. Benny said good-night to them on the landing-slip, and broke into a +trot for home.</p> + +<p>"'Tisn't true," he kept repeating to himself, almost fiercely for so mild +a little man. "'Tisn't true, whatever it sounds. There's another world; +and in this one—don't I <i>know</i> it?—there's love, love, love!"</p> + + +<br><br> +<p><a name = "2"></a> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER II.</h3> + +<h4>FATHERS AND CHILDREN.</h4> + +<p>John Rosewarne fetched his hat and staff from the hall, and started on his +customary stroll around the farm-buildings, with the small greyhound +trotting daintily at his heels.</p> + +<p>The lands of Hall march with those of a far larger estate, to which they +once belonged, and of which Hall itself had once been the chief seat. +The house—a grey stone building with two wings and a heavy porch midway +between them—dated from 1592, and had received its shape of a capital E +in compliment to Queen Elizabeth. King Charles himself had lodged in it +for a day during the Civil War, and while inspecting the guns on a +terraced walk above the harbour, had narrowly escaped a shot fired across +from the town where Essex's troops lay in force. The shot killed a poor +fisherman beside him, and His Majesty that afternoon gave thanks for his +own preservation in the private chapel of Hall. In those days, the porch +and all the main windows looked seaward upon this chapel across half an +acre of green-sward, but the Rosewarnes had since converted the lawn into +a farmyard and the shrine into a cow-byre. Above it ran a line of tall +elms screening a lane used by the farm-carts, and above this again a great +field of arable rounded itself against the sky.</p> + +<p>From the top of Parc-an-hal—so the field was named—the eye travelled +over a goodly prospect: sea and harbour; wide stretches of cultivated land +intersected by sunken woodlands which marked the winding creeks of the +river; other woodlands yet more distant, embowering the great mansion of +Damelioc; the purple rise of a down capped by a monument commemorating +ancient battles. The scene held old and deeply written meanings for +Rosewarne, as he gazed over it in the descending twilight—meanings he had +spent his life to acquire, and other meanings born with him in his blood.</p> +<br><br> +<p>Once upon a time there lived a wicked nobleman. He owned Damelioc, and +had also for his pleasure the house and estate of Hall, whence his family +had moved to their lordlier mansion two generations before his birth. +Being exiled to the country from the Court of Queen Anne, he cast about +for some civilised way of passing the time, and one day, as he lounged at +church in his great pew, his eye fell on Rachel Rosewarne, a gipsy-looking +girl, sitting under the gallery. This Rachel's father was a fisherman, +tall of stature, who planted himself one night in the road as my lord +galloped homeward to Damelioc. The horse shied, and the rider was thrown. +Rosewarne picked him up, dusted his lace coat carefully, and led him aside +into this very field of Parc-an-hal. No one knows what talk they held +there, but on his lordship's dying, in 1712, of wounds received in a duel +in Hyde Park, Rachel Rosewarne produced a deed, which the widow's lawyers +did not contest, and entered Hall as its mistress, with her son Charles— +then five years old.</p> + +<p>Rachel Rosewarne died in 1760 at the age of seventy-six, leaving a grim +reputation, which survived for another hundred years in the talk of the +countryside. While she lived, her grip on the estate never relaxed. +Her son grew up a mere hind upon the home-farm. When he reached +twenty-five, she saddled her grey horse, rode over to Looe, and returned +with a maid for him—one of the Mayows, a pale, submissive creature—whom +he duly married. She made the young couple no allowance, but kept them at +Hall as her pensioners. In the year 1747, Charles (by this time a man of +forty) had the temerity to get religion from the Rev. John Wesley. +The great preacher had assembled a crowd on the green by the cross-roads +beyond Parc-an-hal. Charles Rosewarne, who was stalling the cattle after +milking-time, heard the outcries, and strolled up the road to look. +Two hours later he returned, fell on his knees in the outer kitchen, and +began to wrestle for his soul, the farm-maids standing around and crying +with fright. But half to hour later his mother returned from Liskeard +market, strode into the kitchen in her riding-skirt, and took him by the +collar. "You base-born mongrel!" she called out. "You barn-straw whelp! +What has the Lord to do with one of your breed?" She dragged him to his +feet and laid her horse-whip over head and shoulders. Madam had more than +once used that whip upon an idling labourer in the fields.</p> + +<p>She died, leaving the estate in good order and clear of debt. Charles +Rosewarne enjoyed his inheritance just eleven years, and, dying in 1771 of +<i>angina pectoris</i>, left two married daughters and a son, Nicholas, on whom +the estate was entailed, subject to a small annual charge for maintaining +his mother.</p> + +<p>In this Nicholas all the family passions broke out afresh. He had been +the one living creature for whom Madam Rachel's flinty breast had nursed a +spark of love, and at fourteen he had rewarded her by trying to set fire +to her skirts as she dozed in her chair. At nineteen, in a fit of +drunkenness, he struck his father. He married a tap-room girl from +St. Austell, and beat her. She gave him two sons: the elder (named +Nicholas, after his father), a gentle boy, very bony in limb, after the +fashion of the Rosewarnes; the younger, Michael, an epileptic. His mother +had been turned out of doors one night in a north-westerly gale, and had +lain till morning in a cold pew of the disused chapel, whereby the child +came to birth prematurely. This happened in 1771, the year that Nicholas +took possession of the estate. He treated his old mother even worse, +being fierce with her because of the small annual charge. She grew blind +and demented toward the end, and was given a room in the west wing, over +the counting-house. Nicholas removed the door-handle on the inside, and +the wainscot there still showed a dull smear, rubbed by the poor +creature's shoulder as she trotted round and round; also marks upon the +door, where her fingers had grabbled for the missing handle. There were +dreadful legends of this Nicholas—one in particular of a dark foreigner +who had been landed, heavily ironed, from a passing ship, and had found +hospitality at Hall. The ship (so the story went) was a pirate, and the +man so monstrously wicked that even her crew could not endure him. +During his sojourn the cards and drink were going at Hall night and day, +and every night found Nicholas mad-drunk. He began to mortgage, and +whispers went abroad of worse ways of meeting his losses; of ships lured +upon the rocks, and half-drowned sailors knocked upon the head, or chopped +at with axes.</p> + +<p>All this came to an end in the great thunderstorm of 1778, when the +harvesters, running for shelter to the kitchen, found Nicholas lying in +the middle of the floor with his mouth twisted and eyeballs staring. +They were lifting the body, when a cry from the women fetched them to the +windows, in time to catch a glimpse of the foreigner sneaking away under +cover of the low west wall. As he broke into a run the lightning flashed +upon the corners of a brass-bound box he carried under his arm. One or +two gave chase, but the rain met them on the outer threshold in a deluge, +and in the blind confusion of it he made off, nor was seen again.</p> + +<p>Thus died Nicholas Rosewarne, and was followed to the grave by one mourner +only—his epileptic child, Michael. The heir, Nicholas II., had taken the +king's shilling to be quit of his home, and was out in Philadelphia, +fighting under Sir Henry Clinton. He returned in 1780 with a shattered +knee-pan and a young wife he had married abroad. She died within a year +of her arrival at Hall in giving birth to a son, who was christened +Martin.</p> + +<p>The loss of her and the ruinous state of the family finances completely +broke the spirit of this younger Nicholas. He dismissed the servants and +worked in the fields and gardens about his fine house as a common market +gardener. On fair-days at Liskeard or St. Austell the ex-soldier, +prematurely aged, might have been seen in the market-place, standing as +nearly at 'Attention' as his knee-pan allowed beside a specimen apple +tree, which he held to his shoulder like a musket. Thus he kept sentry-go +against hard Fortune—a tall man with a patient face. Thanks to a natural +gift for gardening, and the rare fertility of the slopes below Hall, he +managed to pay interest on the mortgages and support the family at home— +his sad-browed mother, his brother Michael, and his son Martin. And he +lived to taste his reward, for his son Martin had a financial genius.</p> + +<p>This genius awoke in Martin Rosewarne one Sunday, in his fifteenth year, +as he sat beside his father in the family pew and listened to a dull +sermon on the Parable of the Talents. He was a just child, and he could +not understand the crime of that servant who had hidden his talent in a +napkin. In fault he must be, for the Bible said so.</p> + +<p>The boy spent that afternoon in an apple-loft of the deserted chapel, and +by evening he had hit on a discovery which, new in those days, now informs +the whole of commerce—that it is more profitable to trade on borrowed +capital than upon one's own.</p> + +<p>He put it thus: "Let me, not knowing the meaning of a 'talent,' put it at +£100. Now, if the good and faithful servant adventured five +talents, or £500, at ten per cent, he made £50 a year. +But if the servant with one talent can borrow four others, he has the same +capital of £500. Suppose him to borrow at five per cent. and make +ten like the other, he pays £20 profit in interest, and has thirty +per cent, left on the talent he started with."</p> + +<p>"Father," said the boy that night at supper, "what ought the wicked +servant to have done with his talent?"</p> + +<p>"Parson told you that plain enough, if you'd a-been listening."</p> + +<p>"But what do <i>you</i> think?"</p> + +<p>"I don't need to think when the Bible tells me. 'Thou wicked and slothful +servant,' it says, 'thou oughtest to have put my money to the exchangers, +and then I should have received mine own with usury.'"</p> + +<p>"That means he ought to have lent it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sure."</p> + +<p>"Well, now," said the boy, nodding, "<i>I</i> think he ought to have borrowed."</p> + +<p>Nicholas stared at his son gloomily. "Setting yourself up agen' the +Scriptures, hey? It's time you were a-bed."</p> + +<p>"But, father."—</p> + +<p>The ex-soldier seldom gave way to passion, but now he banged his fist down +on the table. "Go to bed!" he shouted. "Talk to <i>me</i> of borrowing! +Don't my shoulders ache wi' the curse of it?"</p> + +<p>Martin took his discovery off and nursed it. By and by another grew out +of it: If the wicked servant be making thirty per cent against the +other's ten, he can afford for a time to abate some of his profit, lower +his prices, and, by underselling, drive the other out of the market.</p> + +<p>He grew up a tall and taciturn lad, pondering his thoughts while he dug +and planted with his father in the kitchen-gardens. For this from the age +of eighteen he received a small wage, which he carefully put aside. +Then in 1800 his uncle Michael died, and left him a legacy of £50. +He invested it in the privateering trade, in which the harbour did a brisk +business just then. Three years later his father suffered a stroke of +paralysis—a slight one, but it confined him to his room for some weeks. +Meanwhile, Martin took charge.</p> + +<p>"I've been looking into your accounts," he announced one day, as soon as +his father could bear talking to.</p> + +<p>"Then you've been taking an infernal liberty."</p> + +<p>"I see you've cleared off two of the mortgages—on the home estate here +and the Nanscawne property. You're making, one way and another, close on +£500 a year, half of which goes to paying up interest and reducing +the principal by degrees."</p> + +<p>"That's about it."</p> + +<p>"And to my knowledge three of your tenants are making from £200 to £400 + by growing corn, which you might grow yourself. Was ever such +folly? Look at the price corn is making."</p> + +<p>"Look at the labour. How can I afford it?"</p> + +<p>"By borrowing again on the uncumbered property."</p> + +<p>"Your old lidden again? I take my oath I'll never raise a penny on Hall +so long as I live! With blood and sweat I've paid off that mortgage, and +I'll set my curse on you if you renew it when I'm gone."</p> + +<p>"We'll try the other, then. Your father raised £1500 on the +Nanscawne lands, and spent it on cards and ropery. We'll raise the same +money, and double it in three years. If we don't—well, I've made £500 +of my own, and I'll engage to hand you over every farthing of it."</p> + +<p>"Well," his father gave in, "gain or loss, it will fall on you, and pretty +soon. I wasn't built for a long span; my father's sins have made life +bitter to me, and I thank God the end's near. But if you have £500 +to spare, I can't see why you drive me afield to borrow."</p> + +<p>"To teach you a lesson, perhaps. As soon as you're fit for it, we'll +drive over to Damelioc, and have a try with the new owner. He'll jump at +us. The two properties went together once, and when he hears our tale, +he'll say to himself, 'Oho! here's a chance to get 'em together again.' +He'll think, of course, that you are in difficulties. But mind you stand +out, and don't you pay more than five per cent."</p> + +<p>Here it must be explained that the great Damelioc estates, after passing +through several hands, had come in 1801 to an Irishman, a Mr. Eustatius +Burke, who had made no small part of his fortune by voting for the Union. +Mr. Burke, as Martin rightly guessed, would have given something more than +the value of Hall to add it to Damelioc; and so, when Nicholas Rosewarne +drove over and petitioned for a loan of £1500, he lent with +alacrity. He knew enough of the situation to be thoroughly deceived. +After Nanscawne, he would reach his hand out upon Hall itself. He lent +the sum at five per cent, and dreamed of an early foreclosure.</p> + +<p>Armed with ready money, the two Rosewarnes called in the leases of their +fields, hired labourers, sowed corn, harvested, and sold at war prices. +They bought land—still upon mortgage—on the other side of the harbour, +and at the close of the great year 1812 (when the price of wheat soared +far above £6 a quarter) Nicholas Rosewarne died a moderately rich +man. By this time Martin had started a victualling yard in the town, a +shipbuilding yard, and an emporium near the Barbican, Plymouth, where he +purveyed ships' stores and slop-clothing for merchant seamen. He made +money, too, as agent for most of the smuggling companies along the coast, +although he embarked little of his own wealth in the business, and never +assisted in an actual run of the goods. He had ceased to borrow actively +now, for other people's money came to him unsought, to be used.</p> + +<p>The Rosewarnes, as large employers of labour, paid away considerable sums +weekly in wages. But those were times of paper money. All coin was +scarce, and in some villages a piece of gold would not be seen in a +twelvemonth. Martin and his father paid for labour in part by orders on +their own shops; for the rest, and at first for convenience rather than +profit, they set up a bank and issued their own notes—those for one or +two pounds payable at their own house, and those for larger sums by their +London agent. At first these notes would be cashed at once. By and by +they began to pass as ordinary tender. Before long, people who possessed +a heap of this paper learnt that the Rosewarnes would give them interest +for it as well as for money, and bethought them that, if hoarded, it ran +the risk of robbery, besides being unproductive. Timidly and at long +intervals men came to Martin and asked him to take charge of their wealth. +He agreed, of course. 'Use the money of others' was still his motto. +So Rosewarne's became a deposit bank.</p> + +<p>To the end Nicholas imperfectly understood these operations. By a clause +in his will he begged his son as a favour to pay off every penny of +mortgage money. On the morning after the funeral, Martin stuffed three +stout rolls of bank-notes into his pocket, and rode over to Damelioc. +Mr. Burke had for six years been Lord Killiow, in the peerage of Ireland, +and for two years a Privy Councillor. He received Martin affably. +He recognised that this yeoman-looking fellow had been too clever for him, +and bore no malice.</p> + +<p>"I've a proposition to make to you, Rosewarne," said he, as he signed the +receipts. "You are a vastly clever man, and I judge you to be +trustworthy. For my part, I hate lawyers "—</p> + +<p>"Amen!" put in Martin.</p> + +<p>"And I thought of asking you to act as my steward at a salary. It won't +take up a great deal of your time," urged his lordship; for Martin had +walked to the long window, and stood there, gazing out over the park, with +his hands clasped beneath his coat-tails.</p> + +<p>"As for that, I've time to spare," answered Martin. "Banking's the +easiest business in the world. When it's hard, it's wrong. But would you +give me a free hand?"</p> + +<p>"I cannot bind my brother Patrick, if that's what you mean. When I'm in +the grave he must act according to his folly. If he chooses to dismiss +you."—</p> + +<p>"I'll chance that. But you are asking a good deal of me. Your brother is +an incurable gambler. He owes something like £20,000 at this +moment—money borrowed mainly on <i>post obits</i>."</p> + +<p>"You are well posted."</p> + +<p>"I have reason to be. Man—my lord, I mean—he will want money, and +what's to prevent me adding Damelioc to Hall, as you would have added Hall +to Damelioc?"</p> + +<p>"There's the boy, Rosewarne. I can tie up the estate on the boy."</p> + +<p>Martin Rosewarne smiled. "Your brother's is a good boy," he said. +"You can tie up the money with him. Or you may make me steward, and I'll +give you my word he shall not be ousted."</p> + +<p>Eustatius, first Lord Killiow, died in 1822, and his brother, Patrick +Henry, succeeded to the title and estates. Martin Rosewarne retained his +stewardship. To be sure he made an obliging steward. He saw that the man +must go his own gait, and also that he was drinking himself to death. +So where a timid treasurer would have closed the purse-strings, he +unloosed them. He cut down timber, he raised mortgages as soon as asked— +all to hasten the end. Thus encouraged, the second Lord Killiow ran his +constitution to a standstill, and succumbed in 1832. The heir was at that +time an undergraduate at Christchurch, Oxford, and already the author of a +treatise of one hundred and fifty pages on <i>The Limits of the Human +Intelligence</i>. On leaving the University he put on a white hat and buff +waistcoat, and made violent speeches against the Reform Bill. Later, he +sobered down into a 'philosophic' Radical; became Commissioner of Works; +married an actress in London, Polly Wilkins by name; and died a year +later, in 1850, at Rome, of malarial fever, leaving no heir. +Lady Killiow—whom we shall meet—buried him decently, and returned to +spend the rest of her days in seclusion at Damelioc, committing all +business to her steward, John Rosewarne.</p> + +<p>For Martin Rosewarne had taken to wife in 1814 a yeoman's daughter from +the Meneage district, west of Falmouth, and the issue of that marriage was +a daughter, who grew up to marry a ship's captain, against her parents' +wishes, and a son, John, whom his father had set himself to train in his +own ideas of business.</p> + +<p>In intellect the boy inherited his father's strength, if something less +than his originality. But in temper, as well as in size of frame and +limb, he threatened at first to be a throw-back to Nicholas, his +great-grandfather of evil memory. All that his father could teach he +learnt aptly. But his passions were his own, and from fifteen to eighteen +a devil seemed to possess the lad. He had no sooner mastered the banking +business than he flatly refused to cross the bank's threshold. For two +years he dissipated all his early promise in hunting, horse-breaking, +wrestling at fairs, prize-fighting, drinking, gaming, sparking. +Then, on a day after a furious quarrel at home, he disappeared, and for +another three years his parents had never a word of him.</p> + +<p>It was rumoured afterwards that he had enlisted, following his +grandfather's example, and had spent at least some part of these +wander-years as private in a West India regiment. At any rate, one fine +morning in 1838 he returned, bringing with him a wife and an infant son, +and it appeared that somehow he had exorcised, or at least chained, his +devil. He settled down quietly at Hall, where meanwhile business had been +prospering, and where now it put forth new vigour.</p> + +<p>It was John who foresaw the decline in agriculture, and turned his +father's attention from wheat-growing to mining. He opened up the granite +and china-clay on the moorland beyond the town, and a railway line to +bring these and other minerals down to the coast. He built ships, and in +times of depression he bought them up, and made them pay good interest on +their low prices. He bought up the sean-boats for miles along the coast, +and took the pilchard-fishery into his hands. Regularly in the early +spring a fleet sailed for the Mediterranean with fish for the Spaniards +and Italians to eat during Lent. Larger ships—tall three-masters—took +emigrants to America, and returned with timber for his building-yards, +mines, and clay-works. The banking business had been sold by his father +not long before the great panic of 1825.</p> + +<p>In this same year 1825 John lost his first wife. After a short interval +he sought and found a second—this time a lady of good family on the +shores of the Tamar. She bore him a daughter, Anne, who grew up to make +an unhappy match, and died untimely. The children at play in the garden +were hers. Her mother survived her five years.</p> +<br><br> +<p>As men count prosperity, John Rosewarne had lived prosperously. He had a +philosophy, too, to steel him against the blows of fate, and behind his +philosophy a great natural courage. Nevertheless, as he gazed across his +acres for the last time—knowing well that it might be the last—and +across them to Damelioc, the wider acres of his stewardship, his eyes for +one weak moment grew dim. He had reached the stile at the summit of +Parc-an-hal, and was leaning there, when he felt a cool, damp touch upon +his fingers. The little greyhound, puzzled at his standing there so long +motionless, had reached up on her hind legs, and was licking his hand +affectionately.</p> + +<p>He frowned, pushed her off, and started to descend the hill. Night was +falling fast, with a heavy dew. The children had left their play and +crept to bed. They never sought him to say good-night.</p> + +<p>He returned slowly, leaning on his staff, went to his room, lit the lamp, +and spent a couple of hours with his papers. This had become his nightly +habit of late.</p> + +<p>On Wednesday he arose early, packed a hand-bag, crossed the ferry, and +took train for Plymouth.</p> + + +<br><br> +<p><a name = "3"></a> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER III.</h3> + +<h4>ROSEWARNE'S PILGRIMAGE.</h4> + +<p>From the railway station at Plymouth John Rosewarne walked straight to +Lockyer Street, to a house with a brass plate on the door, and on the +brass plate the name of a physician famous throughout the West of England.</p> + +<p>The doctor had just come to the end of his morning consultations, and +received Rosewarne at once. The pair talked for five minutes on +indifferent matters, then of Paris, and the terrible doings of the +Commune—for this was the month of May 1871. At length Rosewarne stood +up.</p> + +<p>"Best get it over," said he.</p> + +<p>The doctor felt his pulse, took the stethoscope and listened, tapped and +sounded him, back and chest, then listened again.</p> + +<p>"Worse?" asked Rosewarne.</p> + +<p>"It is worse," answered the doctor gravely.</p> + +<p>"I knew it. One or two in my family have died in the same way. The pains +are sharper of late, and more frequent."</p> + +<p>"You keep that little phial handy?"</p> + +<p>Rosewarne showed where it lay, close at hand in his watch-pocket.</p> + +<p>"How long?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"A few months, perhaps." The doctor seemed to hesitate.</p> + +<p>"And you won't answer for <i>that</i>?"</p> + +<p>"With care. It is folly for a man like you to be overworking."</p> + +<p>Rosewarne laughed grimly. "You're right there, and I've often enough +asked myself why I do it. To what end, good Lord! But I'm taking no +care, all the same. Good-bye."</p> + +<p>"Good-bye, my friend." The doctor did not remonstrate further. +He knew his man.</p> + +<p>From Lockyer Street Rosewarne walked to his hotel, ordered a beef-steak +and a pint of champagne, and lunched leisurably. Lunch over, he lit a +cigar, and strolled in the direction of the Barbican. The streets were +full of holiday-keepers, and he counted a dozen brakes full of workers +pouring out of town to breathe the air of Dartmoor on this fine afternoon. +He himself was conscious of elation.</p> + +<p>"I'll drink it regularly," he muttered to himself. "It's hard if a man +with maybe a month more to live cannot afford himself champagne."</p> + +<p>The air in Southside Street differed from that of Dartmoor, being stuffy, +not to say malodorous. He rapped on the door of a dingy office, and it +was opened by his son, Mr. Samuel Rosewarne.</p> + +<p>"How d'ye do, Sam?" he nodded, not offering to shake hands. "All alone? +That's right. I hope, by the way, I'm not depriving you of a holiday?"</p> + +<p>"I seldom take a holiday," Mr. Sam answered.</p> + +<p>The old man eyed him ironically. Mr. Sam wore a black suit, with some +show of dingy white shirt-front, relieved by a wisp of black cravat and +two onyx studs. His coat-cuffs were long and frayed, and his elastic-side +boots creaked as he led the way to the office.</p> + +<p>In the office the old man came to business at once. "First of all," said +he, with a nod toward the safe, "I'd like a glance into your books."</p> + +<p>"Certainly, sir," answered Mr. Sam, after a moment's hesitation. +He unlocked the safe. "Do you wish to take the books in order? You will +find it a long business."</p> + +<p>"Man, I don't propose to audit your accounts. If you let me pick and +choose, half an hour will tell me all I want."</p> + +<p>Well knowing that his son detested the smell of tobacco, he pulled out +another cigar and lit it. "You can open the window," said he, "if you +prefer the smell of your street. Is this the pass-book?"</p> + +<p>For about three-quarters of an hour he ransacked the ledgers, tracking +casual entries from one to another apparently at random. His fingers +raced through the pages. Now and again he looked up to put a sharp +question; and paused, drumming on the table while Mr. Sam explained. +Once he said, "Bad debt? Not a bit; the man was right enough, if you had +made inquiries."</p> + +<p>"I <i>did</i> make inquiries."</p> + +<p>"Ay, into his balance. So you pinched him at the wrong moment, and +pinched out ninepence in the pound. Why the devil couldn't you have +learnt something of the <i>man? He</i> was all right. If you'd done that, you +might have recovered every penny, earned his gratitude, and done dashed +good business."</p> + +<p>He shut the ledger with a slam. "Lock 'em up," he commanded, lighting a +fresh cigar, "and come up to the Hoe for a stroll. Where the deuce did +you pick up that hat?"</p> + +<p>"Bankrupt stock."</p> + +<p>"I thought so. Maybe you've invested in a full suit of mourning for <i>me</i>, +at the same time?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir."</p> + +<p>"Why not? The books are all right. You've no range. Still, within your +scope you're efficient. You'll get to your goal, such as it is. You wear +a hat that makes me ill, but in some way you and your hat will represent +the survival of the fittest. What's the boy like?"</p> + +<p>"He ails at times, sir—being without a mother's care. I am having him +privately instructed. He has some youthful stirrings toward grace."</p> + +<p>Old Rosewarne swung round at a standstill. "Grace?" he echoed, for the +moment supposing it the name of a girl. Then perceiving his mistake, he +broke out into a short laugh; but the laugh ended bitterly, and his face +twitched with pain.</p> + +<p>"Look here, Sam; I'm going to leave you the money. Don't stare—and +don't, I beg, madden me with your thanks."—</p> + +<p>"I'm sure, sir."—</p> + +<p>"You'll get it because I can't help myself. There's your half-sister's +children at home; but of what use to me is a girl or a blind boy? +You are narrow—narrow as the grave: but I find that, like the grave, you +are inevitable; and, like the grave, you keep what you get. For the kind +of finance that was the true game of manhood to your grandfather and me, +you have no capacity whatever. No, I cannot explain. Finance? Why, you +haven't even a <i>sense</i> of it. Yet in a way you are capable. You will +make the money yield interest, and will keep the race going. That is what +I look to—you will keep the race going. Now I want to speak about that +boy of yours. Do me the only favour I have ever asked you—send him to a +public school, and afterwards to college, and let him have his fling."</p> + +<p>Sam thought his father must have gone mad. "What, sir! After all you +have said of such places! 'Dens of idleness,' 'sinks of iniquity'—I have +heard you scores of times!"</p> + +<p>"I spoke as a fool. 'Twas my punishment, perhaps, to believe it; but, +Lord!"—he eyed his son up and down—"to think my punishment should take +this form!" He caught Sam's arm suddenly and wheeled him about in face of +a glass shop-front. "Man, look at yourself! Make the boy something +different from <i>that!</i> Do what I'd have done for you if ever you had +given me a chance. Turn him loose among gentlemen; don't be afraid if he +idles and wastes money; let him riot out his youth if he will—he'll be +learning all the time, learning something you don't know how to teach, and +maybe when his purse is emptied he'll come back to you a gentleman. +I tell you there's no difference in the world like that between a +gentleman and a man who's not a gentleman. Money can't buy it; and, after +the start, money can't change or hide it. The thing is there, or it +isn't."</p> + +<p>"Whatever the thing is," said Sam sullenly, "you are asking me to peril my +son's soul for it."</p> + +<p>They had reached the Hoe by this time. John Rosewarne dropped upon a +bench and sat resting both hands on his staff and gazing over the +twinkling waters of the Sound.</p> + +<p>"Anne married a gentleman," pursued Sam.</p> + +<p>"Ay, and a rake. A-ah!" muttered the old man after a moment, drawing a +long breath, "if only that boy of hers weren't blind! But he doesn't +carry the name, while <i>you</i>."—He broke off with a savage laugh. +"What's that you said a moment ago?—something about immortal souls."</p> + +<p>"I said there's a world beyond this, and,"—</p> + +<p>"Is there? That's what I'm concerned to know just now. And<i> you?</i> +What are you proposing to do when you get there?" He withdrew his eyes +from the bright seascape and let them travel slowly over his son. "<i>You!</i> +sitting there like a blot on God's sunshine! By what right should you +expect another world, who have cut such a figure in this one? I have +known love and lust, and drink and hard work and hard fighting; I have +been down in the depths, and again I have known moments to make a man +smack his hands together for joy to be alive and doing. But you? +What kind of man are you, you son of mine? What do you live for? Why did +you marry? And what did you and your poor woman find to talk about?"</p> + +<p>Whatever bullying Sam suffered, he had his revenge in this—that he and no +other man could exasperate his father to weakness. He rubbed his thin +side whiskers now and muttered something about 'an acceptable sacrifice.'</p> + +<p>The old man jabbed viciously at the gravel with his staff. "And your +religion?" he broke forth again. "What is it? In some secret way it +satisfies you—but how? I look into the Bible, and I find that the whole +of religion rests on a man's giving himself away to help others. +I don't believe in it myself; I believe in the exact contrary. +Still there the thing is, set out in black and white. It upsets law and +soldiering and nine-tenths of men's doings in trade: to me it's folly; but +so it stands, honest as daylight. When did <i>you</i> help a man down on his +luck? or forgive your debtor? You'll get my money because you never did +aught of the kind. Yet somehow you're a Christian, and prate of your mean +life as an acceptable sacrifice. In my belief you're a Christian +precisely because Christianity—how you work it out I don't know—will +give you a sanction for any dirty trick that comes in your way. When good +feeling, or even common honour, denies you, there's always a text +somewhere to oil your conscience."</p> + +<p>"I've one, sir, on which I can rely—'Be just, and fear not.'"</p> + +<p>"I'll test it. You'll have my money; on which you hardly dared to count, +eh? Be honest."</p> + +<p>"Only on so much of it as is entailed, sir."</p> + +<p>For a while John Rosewarne sat silent, with his eyes on the horizon.</p> + +<p>"That," said he at length, "is just what you could not count on." +He turned and looked Sam squarely in the face. "You were born out of +wedlock, my son."</p> + +<p>Sam's hand gripped the iron arm of the bench. The muscles of his face +scarcely moved, but its sallow tint changed, under his father's eyes, to a +sickly drab.</p> + +<p>"Ay," pursued the old man, "I am sorry for you at this moment; but you +mustn't look for apologies and repentance and that sort of thing. +The fact is, I never could feel about it in that way. I was young and +fairly wild, and it happened. One doesn't think of possible injury to +someone who doesn't yet exist. But that, I grant you, doesn't make it any +the less an injury. Now what have you to say?"</p> + +<p>"The sins of the fathers."—</p> + +<p>"—Are visited on the children: quite so. Afterwards we did our best, and +married. No one knows; no one has ever guessed; and the proof would be +hard to trace. In case of accident, I give you Port Royal for a clue."</p> + +<p>Sam rose and stood for a moment staring gloomily down on the gravel. +"Why did you tell me, then?" he broke out. "What need was there to tell?"</p> + +<p>His father winced, for the first time. "I see your point. Why didn't I, +you ask, having played the game so far, play it out? Why couldn't I take +my secret with me into the last darkness, and be judged for it—my own +sole sin and complete? Well, but there's the blind child. By law the +house and home estate would he his. I might have kept silence, to be +sure, and let him be robbed; but somehow I couldn't. I've a conscience +somewhere, I suppose."</p> + +<p>"Have you?" Sam flamed out, with sudden spirit. "A nice sort of +conscience it must be! I call it cowardice, this dragging me in to help +you compensate the child. Conscience? If you had one, you wouldn't be +shifting the responsibility on to mine."</p> + +<p>"You are mistaken," said his father calmly. "And by the way, I advise you +not to take that tone with me. It may all be very proper under the +circumstances; but there's the simple fact that I won't stand it. +You're mistaken," he repeated. "I mean to settle the compensation alone, +without consulting you; though, by George! if 'tweren't for pitying the +poor child, I'd like to leave it to you as a religious man, and watch you +developing your reasons for giving him nothing."</p> + +<p>"And it was you," muttered Sam, with a kind of stony wonder, "who advised +me just now to let my son run wild!"</p> + +<p>"I did, and I do." John Rosewarne stood up and gripped his staff. +"By the way, too," he said, "your mother was a good woman."</p> + +<p>"I don't want to hear anything about it."</p> + +<p>"I know; but I wanted to tell you. Good-bye." + +He turned abruptly and went his way down the hill. As he went, his lips +moved. He was talking not to himself, but to an unseen companion—</p> + +<p>"Mary! Mary!—that this should be the fruit of our sowing!"</p> + + +<br><br> +<p><a name = "4"></a> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER IV.</h3> + +<h4>ROSEWARNE'S PENANCE.</h4> + +<p>Beside the winding Avon above Warwick bridge there stretches a flat +meadow, along the brink of which on a summer evening you may often count a +score of anglers seated and watching their floats; decent citizens of +Warwick, with a sprinkling of redcoats from the garrison. They say that +two-thirds of the Trappist brotherhood are ex-soldiers; and perhaps if we +knew the reason we might also know why angling has a peculiar fascination +for the military.</p> + +<p>Angling was but a pretext, however, with a young corporal of the 6th +Regiment, who sat a few yards away on John Rosewarne's right, and smoked +his pipe, and cast frequent furtive glances, now along the river path, +now back and across the meadow where another path led from the town. +Each of these glances ended in a resentful stare at his too-near +neighbour, who fished on unregarding.</p> + +<p>"Is this a favourite corner of yours?" the corporal asked after a while, +with meaning.</p> + +<p>"I have fished on this exact spot for thirty-five years," answered John +Rosewarne, not lifting his eyes from the float.</p> + +<p>The corporal whistled. "Thirty-five years! It's queer, now, that I never +set eyes on you before—and I come here pretty often."</p> + +<p>Rosewarne let a full minute go by before he answered again. +"There's nothing queer about it, Unless you've been stationed long in +Warwick."</p> + +<p>"Best part of a year."</p> + +<p>"Quite so: I fish in Avon once a year only."</p> + +<p>"Belong to the town?"</p> + +<p>"No; nor within two hundred miles of it."</p> + +<p>"You must think better of the sport than I do, to come all that distance."</p> + +<p>John Rosewarne lifted his eyes for the first time and turned them upon the +young man.</p> + +<p>"<i>What</i> sport?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Eh? Why, fishing, to be sure. What else?" stammered the corporal, +taken aback.</p> + +<p>"Tut!" said the old man curtly. "Here she comes. Now, what are you going +to do?"</p> + +<p>Without waiting for an answer, he bent his gaze on the float again, and +kept it fastened there, as a pretty shop-girl came strolling along the +river path. She had taken off her hat, of broad-brimmed straw with +artificial poppies and cornflowers, and swung it in her hand as she came. +Her eyes roamed the landscape carelessly, avoiding only that particular +spot where the corporal, as she approached, scrambled to his feet; then, +her start of surprise was admirable.</p> + +<p>"Oh, it's <i>you!</i> Good-evening."</p> + +<p>"Good-evening, miss."</p> + +<p>"Why, whoever—! It seems to me you spend most of your time fishing."</p> + +<p>She paused, gathering in her skirt a little—and this obviously was the +cue for a gallant soldier. The corporal began, indeed, to wind up his +line, but with a foolish grin and a glance at Rosewarne's back.</p> + +<p>"It keeps beautiful weather," he answered at length.</p> + +<p>"<i>I</i> call it sultry." She held out her hat with a little deprecating +laugh. "I took it off for the sake of fresh air," she explained. Then, as +he stood stock-still, a flush crept up her cheek to her pretty forehead.</p> + +<p>"Well, good-evening; I won't interrupt you by talking," she said, and +began to move away.</p> + +<p>Come to think of it, it <i>do</i> look like thunder, "the corporal remarked to +Rosewarne, staring after her and then up at the sky.</p> + +<p>"If you had eyes in your head, you'd have seen that without her telling +you. That cloud yonder has been rising against the wind for an hour. +Look you along the bank, how every man Jack is unjointing his rod and +making for home. Go, and leave me in peace!"</p> + +<p>He did not turn his head even when the corporal, having packed together +his gear, wished him good-night and hurried after the print frock as it +vanished in the twilit shadows. One or two of the departing anglers +paused as they went by to promise him that a storm was imminent and the +fish had ceased feeding. He thanked them, yet sat on—solitary, in the +leaden dusk.</p> + +<p>The scene he had just witnessed—how it called up the irremediable past, +with all the memories which had drawn him hither, summer after summer! +And yet how common it was and minutely unimportant! Nightly by the banks +of Avon couples had been courting—thousands in these thirty-five years— +each of them dreaming, poor fools, that their moment's passion held the +world in its hands. But the world teemed with rivers ten times lordlier +than Avon—rivers stretching out in an endless map, with bridges on which +lovers met and whispered, with banks down which they went with linked arms +into the shadows—</p> + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p class = "noindent"> "Were I but young for thee, as I hae been,<br> + We should hae been gallopin' doun in yon green,<br> + And linkin' it owre the lily-white lea—<br> + And wow gin I were but young for thee!"<br></p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + +<p>He had been young, and had loved and wronged a woman, and bitterly +repented. He had married her, and marriage had killed neither love nor +remorse. The woman was dead long since: he had married again, but never +forgotten her nor ceased to repent. She, a pretty tradesman's daughter of +Warwick, had collected her savings and taken ship for the West Indies, +trusting to his word, facing a winter's passage in the sole hope that he +would right her. Until the day of embarking she had never seen the sea; +and the sea, after buffeting her to the verge of death, in the end +betrayed her. A gale delayed the ship, and in the height of it her child +was born. Rosewarne, a private soldier, went to his captain, as soon as +she was landed, made a clean breast of it, and married her. But it was +too late. She lived to return with him to England; but he knew well enough +when she died that her sufferings on the passage out, and the abiding +anguish of her shame, had killed her. A common tale! Men and women still +go the way of their instinct, by which the race survives. "All the rivers +run into the sea, and yet the sea is not full. The thing that hath been, +it is that which shall be, and that which is done is that which shall be +done."</p> + +<p>A tale as common as sunset! Yet upon all rivers and upon every bridge and +willow-walk along their courses the indifferent sun shines for each pair +of fools with a difference, lighting their passion with a separate flame. +The woman was dead; and he—he that had been young—sat face to face with +death.</p> + +<p>He leaned forward, oblivious of the clouded dusk, with his half-shut eyes +watching the grey gleam of the river; but his mind's eye saw the shadowy +mead behind him, and a girlish figure crossing it with feet that seemed to +faint, holding her back from doom, yet to be impelled against their will.</p> + +<p>They drew nearer. He heard their step, and faced about with a start. +An actual woman stood there on the river path, most like in the dusk to +that other of thirty-five years ago; but whereas <i>she</i> had worn a print +frock, this one was clad in total black.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Rosewarne,"—she began; but her words came to a halt, checked by a +near flash of lightning and by what it revealed.</p> + +<p>He was in the act of rising—had risen, in fact, on one knee—when a spasm +of pain took him, and his hand went up to his breast. For a moment he +knelt so, turning on her a face of anguish; then sank and dropped in a +heap at her feet.</p> + +<p>Quick as thought she was down on her knees beside him, and, slipping an +arm beneath his head, drew it upon her lap. While with swift fingers she +loosened his collar and neckcloth, a peal of thunder rumbled out, and the +first large raindrops fell splashing on her hand. She recalled that last +gesture of his, and with sudden inspiration searched in his breast-pocket, +found and drew out a small phial, uncorked it, and forced the liquid +between his teeth before they clenched in a second spasm. Two or three +sharp flashes followed the first. In the glare of them her eyes searched +along the river-bank, if haply help might be near; but all the anglers had +departed. Rosewarne's face stared up at her, blue as a dead man's in the +dazzling light. At first it seemed to twitch with each opening of the +heavens; but this must have been a trick of eyesight, for his head lay +quiet against her arm as she raised him a little, shielding him against +the torrential rain which now hissed down, in ten seconds drenching her to +the skin, blotting out river and meadow in a sheet of grey. It forced her +to stoop her shoulders, and, so covering him, she put out a hand and laid +it over his heart. Yes, it beat, though feebly. Once more she picked up +the phial and gave him to drink, and in a little while he stirred feebly +and found his voice.</p> + +<p>"Rain? Is it rain?" he muttered.</p> + +<p>"Yes; but I can spread my skirt over you. It will keep off a little. +Are you better?"</p> + +<p>"Better? Yes, better. Let me feel the rain—it does me good." +He lay silent for a minute or so. "I shall be right again in a few +minutes. Did you find the phial?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Good girl. It was touch and go." By and by he made a movement to sit +up. "Let us get home quickly. You can throw the rod into the river. +I shan't want it again."</p> + +<p>But she stood up, and, groping for the rod, drew the float ashore, and +untackled it, still in the hissing rain. The storm, after a brief lull, +had redoubled its rage. The darkness opened and shut as with a rapidly +moving slide, the white battlements of Caesar's Tower gleaming and +vanishing above the castle elms, and reappearing while their fierce +candour yet blinded the eye. The thunder-peals, blending, wrapped Warwick +as with one roar of artillery. Rosewarne had risen, and stood panting. +He grasped her shoulder. "Come!" he commanded. The girl, dazzled by the +lightning, puzzled by his sudden renewal of strength, turned and peered at +him. He declined her arm. They walked back across the sodden meadow to +the town, over the roofs of which, as the storm passed away northward, the +lightning yet glimmered at intervals, turning the gaslights to a dirty +orange.</p> + +<p>At the summit of the High Street, hard by the Leycester Hospital, they +came to the doorway of a small shuttered shop, over which by the light of +a street lamp one could read the legend, "J. Marvin, Secondhand +Bookseller." The girl opened the door with a latchkey. An oil lamp burned +in an office at the back of the shop—if that can be spoken of as a +separate room which was, in fact, entirely walled off with books laid flat +and rising in stacks from the floor. The place, in fact, suggested a cave +or den rather than a shop, with stalagmites of piled literature and a +subtle pervading odour of dust and decayed leather. The girl, after +shutting the bolts behind her, led the way cautiously, and, crossing a +passage at the rear of the shop, opened a door upon a far more cheerful +scene. Here, in a neat parlour hung with old prints and mezzotints and +water-colours, a hanging lamp shed its rays on a China bowl heaped with +Warwickshire roses, and on a white cloth and a table spread for supper.</p> + +<p>"H'm!" grunted Rosewarne, glancing in through the doorway, while she lit a +candle for him at the foot of the stairs. "Your father and I used to sup +in the kitchen, with old Selina to wait on us."</p> + +<p>"But since there is no longer any Selina! I had to pension her off, poor +old soul, and she is gone to the almshouse."</p> + +<p>She handed him the light.</p> + +<p>"Now, if you will go up to your room, I will fetch the hot water, and then +you must give me your change of clothes. They shall be warmed for a few +minutes at the kitchen fire, and you shall have them hot-and-hot."</p> + +<p>"It seems to me that while all this is doing, you will stand an excellent +chance of rheumatic fever."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I shall be all right," she announced cheerfully. "No—don't look at +me, please. I know very well that the dye has run out of these crapes, +and my face is beautifully streaked with black! Can you walk upstairs +alone? Very well. And if you feel another attack coming, you are to call +me at once."</p> + +<p>She must have been expeditious; for when he came downstairs again he found +her awaiting him in the parlour, clad in a frock of duffel-grey, which, +with her damp, closely plaited hair, gave her a Quakerish look. Yet the +frock became her; the natural wave of her hair, defying moisture, showed +here and there rebelliously, and her cheeks glowed after a vigorous +towelling.</p> + +<p>Rosewarne drew from under his coat a bottle of champagne, and set it on +the table, where the lamp's ray fell full on its gold foil. Her eyes +opened wide; for he had always visited this house in his oldest clothes +and passed for a poor man.</p> + +<p>"Since you insist upon the parlour," said he, "I must try to live up to +it." He produced a knife from his pocket, with a pair of nippers, and +began to cut the wire. "Why are you wearing grey?" he demanded.</p> + +<p>She flushed. "This is my school frock. I have only one suit of mourning +as yet."</p> + +<p>"And you sent away Selina. You wanted money, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"No," she answered, after a moment, meeting his eyes frankly; "at least, +not in the way you mean. The doctor's bills were heavy, and for years +father had done business enough to keep the roof over him and no more. +So at first there was—well, a pinch. The books will sell, of course; two +honest men are already bidding for them—one at Birmingham and the other +at Bristol. But meanwhile I must pinch a little or run in debt. +I hate debt."</p> + +<p>"And afterwards?" Rosewarne broke off sharply, with a glance around the +table. "But, excuse me, you have laid for one only."</p> + +<p>"If it is your pleasure, Mr. Rosewarne."—</p> + +<p>"Say that I claim it as an honour, Miss Hester," he answered, with a +mock-serious bow.</p> + +<p>She laughed, and ran off to the pantry.</p> + +<p>"And afterwards?" he resumed, as they seated themselves.</p> + +<p>"Afterwards? Oh, I go back to the teaching. I like it, you know."</p> + +<p>He brimmed her glass with champagne, then filled his own. "You saved my +life just now, Miss Hester; and life is good to look forward to, even when +a very little remains. I drink to your happiness."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, sir."</p> + +<p>"How old are you?"</p> + +<p>"I shall be twenty-five in August."</p> + +<p>"And how long have you been teaching?"</p> + +<p>"Eight years."</p> + +<p>"Ah! is it eight years since I came and missed you? I remember, the last +time we three supped together—you and your father and I—I remember +taking note of you, and telling myself, 'She will be married before I +return next year.' Why haven't you married?"</p> + +<p>It was the essence of Hester Marvin's charm that she dealt straightly with +all people.</p> + +<p>"It takes two to make even that quarrel," she answered frankly and gaily. +"Will you believe that nobody has ever asked me?"</p> + +<p>"Make light of it if you will, but I bid you to beware. You were a +good-looking missie, and you have grown—yes, one can say it without +making you simper—into a more than good-looking woman. But the days slip +by, child, and your looks will slip away with them. You are wasting your +life in worrying over other folk's children. Those eyes of yours were +meant for children of your own. What's more, you are muddling the world's +work. Which do you teach now—boys or girls?"</p> + +<p>"Girls for the most part; but I have a class of small boys."</p> + +<p>"And what do you teach 'em—I mean, as the first and most important +thing?"</p> + +<p>Hester knit her brows for a moment before answering. "Well, I suppose, to +be honourable to one another and gentle to their sisters."</p> + +<p>"Just so. In other words, you relieve a mother of her proper duty. Who +but a mother ought to teach a boy those things, if he's ever to learn 'em? +That's what I call muddling the world's work. By the time a boy gets to +school he ought to be ripe for a harder lesson, and learn that life's a +fight in which brains and toil bring a man to the top. As for girls, +one-half of present-day teaching is time and money thrown away. Teach +'em to be wives and mothers—to sew and cook."—</p> + +<p>"Does your supper displease you, Mr. Rosewarne?"</p> + +<p>He set down knife and fork with a comical stare around the board.</p> + +<p>"Eh? No—but did you really—?"</p> + +<p>Their eyes met, and they both broke into a laugh.</p> + +<p>"I should very much like to know," said Hester, resting her elbows on the +table and gazing at him over her folded hands, "if <i>you</i> have treated life +as a fight in which men get the better of their neighbours."</p> + +<p>He eyed her with sudden, sharp suspicion.</p> + +<p>"You have at any rate a woman's curiosity," said he. "When you wrote to +me that your father was dead, but that I might have, for the last time, my +usual lodging here, had you any reason to suppose me a rich man?"</p> + +<p>"I think," answered Hester slowly, after a pause, "that I must have spoken +so as to hurt you somehow. If so, I am sorry; but you must hear now just +why I wrote. I knew that, ever since I was born, and long before, you had +come once a year and lodged here for a night. I knew that you came because +my father was the parish clerk and let you spend the night in St Mary's +Church; and I know that, though he allowed it secretly, you did no harm +there, else he would never have allowed it. Now he is dead, and meanwhile +I keep the keys by the parson's wish until a new parish clerk is +appointed. And so I wrote, thinking to serve you for one year more as my +father had served you for many."</p> + +<p>"I thank you, Miss Hester, and I beg your pardon. Yet there is a question +I need to ask, though you may very properly refuse to answer it. +Beyond my name and address and my yearly visits, what do you know of me?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing at all."</p> + +<p>"You must have wondered why I should do this strange thing, year by year?"</p> + +<p>"To wonder is not to be inquisitive. Of course I have wondered; but I +supposed that you came to strengthen yourself in some purpose, or to keep +alive a memory—of someone dear to you, perhaps. Into what has brought +you to us year after year I have no wish at all to pry. But there is a +look on your face—and when children come to me with that look they are +unhappy with some secret, and want to be understood without having to tell +all particulars. A schoolmistress gets to know that look, and recognises +it sometimes in grown-up folk, even in quite old persons. Yes, and there +is another look on your face. You are not strong enough to go alone to +the church to-night, and you know it."</p> + +<p>"I am going, I tell you."</p> + +<p>He had pushed back his chair, and answered her, after a long pause, during +which he watched her removing the cloth.</p> + +<p>"To-morrow you may have recovered; but to-night you are faint from that +attack. If you really must go, will you not let me go too, and take my +promise neither to look nor to listen?"</p> + +<p>"Get me the key," he commanded, and walked obstinately to the door. +But there his strength betrayed him. He put out a hand against the jamb. +"I am no better than a child," he groaned, and turned weakly to her. +"Come if you will, girl. There is nothing to see, nothing to overhear."</p> + +<p>She fetched cloak and bonnet and found the great keys. He and she stepped +out by a back entrance upon a lane leading to the church. The storm had +passed. Aloft, in a clear space of the sky, the moon rode and a few stars +shone down whitely, as if with freshly washed faces. Hester carried a +dark lantern under her cloak; but, within, the church was light enough for +Rosewarne to grope his way to his accustomed pew. Hester saw him take his +seat there, and choosing a pew at some distance, in the shadow of the +south aisle, dropped on her knees.</p> + +<p>Nothing happened. The tall figure in the chancel sat motionless. +Rosewarne did not even pray—since he did not believe in God. But because +a woman, now long dead, had believed and had implored him to believe also, +that they two might one day meet in heaven, he consecrated this night to +her, sitting in the habitation of her faith, keeping his gaze upon that +spot in the darkness where on a bright Sunday morning a young soldier had +caught sight of her and met her eyes for the first time. Year after year +he had kept this vigil, concentrating his thought upon her and her faith; +but never for an instant had that faith come near to touching him, except +with a sentimental pity which he rejected, despising it; never had he come +near to piercing the well of that mysterious comfort and releasing its +waters. To him the dust of the great dead yonder in the Beauchamp +Chapel—dust of men and women who had died in faith—was dust merely, +arid, unbedewed by any promise of a life beyond. They had played their +parts, and great tombs and canopies covered their final nothingness. +This was the last time he would watch, and to-night he knew there was less +chance than ever of any miracle; for weariness weighed on him, and the +thought of coming annihilation held no terror, but only an invitation to +be at rest.</p> + +<p>From the tower overhead the airy chimes floated over Warwick, beating out +a homely tune to mingle with homely dreams. He sat on, nor stirred.</p> + +<br><br> +<p>The June dawn broke, with the twittering of birds in the churchyard. +He stood up and stretched himself, with a frown for the painted windows +with their unreal saints and martyrs. His footsteps as he walked down the +aisle did not arouse the girl, who slept in the corner of the pew, with +her loosened hair pencilling, as the dawn touched it, lines of red-gold +light upon the dark panels. Her face was pale, and sleep gave it a +childlike beauty. He understood, as he stooped and touched her shoulder, +why the apparition of her on the river-bank had so startled him.</p> + +<p>"Come, child," he said; "the night is over."</p> + + +<br><br> +<p><a name = "5"></a> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER V.</h3> + +<h4>THE CLOSE OF A STEWARDSHIP.</h4> + +<p>A strange impatience haunted Rosewarne on his homeward journey; an almost +intolerable longing to arrive and get something over—he scarcely knew +what. When at length he stood on the ferry slipway, with but a furlong or +two of water between him and home, the very tranquillity of the scene +irritated him subtly—the slow strength of the evening tide, the few ships +idle at their moorings, the familiar hush of the town resting after its +day's business. He tapped his foot on the cobbles as though this fretful +action could quicken Uncle Nicky Vro, who came rowing across deliberately +as ever, working his boat down the farther shore and then allowing the +tide to slant it upstream to the landing-place.</p> + +<p>"Eh? So 'tis you?" was Nicky's greeting. "Well, and I hope that you've +enjoyed your holiday—not that I know, for my part, what a holiday means."</p> + +<p>"It's time you took one, then," Rosewarne answered.</p> + +<p>The old man chuckled. "Pretty things would happen if I did! 'Took a day +off, one time, to marry my old woman, and another to bury her, and that's +all in five-and-forty year. Not a day's sickness in all that time, thank +the Lord!"</p> + +<p>Rosewarne watched the old fellow's feeble digging stroke. "I preach +capability," he said to himself, "and this is the sort of thing I allow!" +His gaze travelled from the oar to the oarsman. "You're getting past your +work, all the same," he said aloud. "What does it feel like?"</p> + +<p>"Eh?"</p> + +<p>"To give up life little by little. Some men run till they drop—are still +running strong, maybe, when the grave opens at their feet, and in they go. +With you 'tis more like the crumbling of rotten timber; a little dribble +of sawdust day by day to show where the worms are boring. What does it +feel like?"</p> + +<p>"I don't feel it at all," Nicky answered cheerfully. "Folks tell me from +time to time that I'm getting past. My own opinion is, they're in a +greater hurry to get to market than of yore. 'Competition '—that's a cry +sprung up since my young days: it used to be 'Religion,' and 'Nicholas +Vro, be you a saved man?' The ferry must ply, week-day or Sabbath: I put +it to you, What time have I got to be a saved man? The Lord is good, says +I. Now I'll tell you a fancy of mine about Him. One day He'll come down +to the slip calling 'Over!' and whiles I put Him across—scores of times +I've a-seen myself doing it, and 'tis always in the cool of the evening +after a spell of summer weather—He'll speak up like a gentleman, and ask, +'Nicholas Vro, how long have you been a-working this here boat?' +'Lord,' I'll answer, 'for maybe a matter of fifty year, calm or blow, +week-days and Sabbaths alike; and that's the reason your Honour has missed +me up to church, as you may have noticed.' 'You must be middlin' tired of +it,' He'll say: and I shall answer up, 'Lord, if you say so, I don't +contradict 'ee; but 'tis no bad billet for a man given to chat with his +naybours and talk over the latest news and be sociable, and warning to +leave don't come from me.' 'You'd best give me over they oars, all the +same,' He'll say; and with that I shall hand 'em over and be rowed across +to a better world."</p> + +<p>Rosewarne was not listening. "Surely, man, the tide's slack enough by +this time!" he interrupted, his irritation again overcoming him. +"You needn't be fetching across sideways, like a crab."</p> + +<p>Nicky Rested on his oars, and stared at him for a moment. As if Rosewarne +or any man alive could teach <i>him</i> how to pull the ferry! He disdained to +argue.</p> + +<p>"Talking about news," said he, resuming his stroke, "the <i>Virtuous Lady</i> +arrived yesterday, and began to unload this morning. You can see her +top-m'sts down yonder, over the town quay."</p> + +<p>"Has Mrs. Purchase been ashore?" Mrs. Purchase was Rosewarne's only +sister, who had married a merchant skipper and sailed with him ever since +in the <i>Virtuous Lady</i>, in which she held a preponderance of the shares.</p> + +<p>"Came ashore this very afternoon in a bonnet as large as St. Paul's, with +two-thirds of a great hummingbird a-top. She's balancing up the freight +accounts at this moment with Peter Benny. Indeed, master, you'll find a +plenty of folk have been inquiring for 'ee. There's the parson for one. +To my knowledge he've been down three times to ask when you'd be back, and +if you'd forgotten the School Managers' meeting, that's fixed for +to-morrow." Uncle Nicky brought his boat at length to shore. +"And there's Aun' Butson in terror that you'll be bringing in some +stranger to teach the children, and at her door half the day listening for +your footstep, to petition 'ee."</p> + +<p>Somehow Rosewarne had promised himself that the restlessness would leave +him as soon as he reached his own side of the water. He stepped ashore +and began to walk up the slipway at a brisk pace; and then on a sudden his +brain harked backward to Uncle Nicky's talk, to which a minute before he +had listened so inattentively. In his hurry he had let an opportunity +pass. The old man had talked of death; had been on the point of saying +something important, perhaps—for all that concerned death and men's views +of death had become important now. He halted and turned irresolutely. +But the moment had gone by.</p> + +<p>"Good-night!" he called back, and resumed his way up the village street.</p> + +<p>Uncle Nicky, bending to replace a worn thole-pin with a new one, dropped +the pair with a clatter. In all his experience Rosewarne had never before +flung him a salutation.</p> + +<p>"And a minute ago trying to tell me how to work the ferry!" the old man +muttered, staring after him. "The man must be ailing."</p> + +<p>As a hunted deer puts the water between him and the hounds, Rosewarne had +hoped to shake off his worry at the ferry-crossing. But no; it dogged him +yet as he mounted the hill. Only, as a dreamer may suffer the horror of +nightmare, yet know all the while that it is a dream, he felt the +impatience and knew it for a vain thing. All his life he had been +hurrying desperately, and all his life the true moments had offered +themselves and been left ungrasped.</p> + +<p>Before the doorway of a cottage halfway up the hill an old woman +waited to intercept him—Aunt Butson, the village schoolmistress. +She was a spinster well over sixty, and lodged with a widow woman, Sarah +Trevarthen, to whom the cottage belonged.</p> + +<p>Rosewarne frowned at the sight of her. She wore her best cap and shawl, +and her cheeks were flushed. Behind her in the doorway sat a young +sailor, with a cage on the ground beside him and a parrot perched on his +forefinger close against his cheek. He glanced up with a shy, very +good-natured smile, touched his forelock to Rosewarne, and went on +whispering to the bird.</p> + +<p>Aunt Butson stepped out into the roadway. "Good-evening, Mr. Rosewarne, +and glad to see you back and in health!" She dropped him a curtsey. +"If you've a minute to spare, sir."—</p> + +<p>Confound the woman!—he had no minutes to spare. Still frowning, he +looked over her head at the young sailor, Sarah Trevarthen's boy Tom, +home from his Baltic voyage in the <i>Virtuous Lady</i>. Yes, it was Tom +Trevarthen, now a man grown. Rosewarne remembered him as a child in +frocks, tumbling about the roadway; as an urchin straddling a stick; as a +lad home (with this same parrot) from his first voyage. Who, in a world +moving at such a pace, could have a minute to spare?</p> + +<p>Aunt Butson had plunged into her petition, and was voluble. It concerned +the new schools, of course. "She had taught reading, writing, and +ciphering for close on forty years. All the children in the village, and +nine-tenths of their parents for that matter, owed their education to her. +A little she could do, too, in navigation—as Mr. Rosewarne well knew: +enough to prepare a lad for schoolmaster Penrose across the water. +Mr. Penrose would rather teach two boys from her school than one from any +other parish. Surely—surely—the new Board wouldn't take the bread out +of an old woman's mouth and drive her to the workhouse? She didn't +believe, as some did, in this new-fangled education, and wouldn't pretend +to. Arithmetic up to practice-sums and good writing and spelling— +anything up to five syllables—were education enough to her mind for any +child that knew his station in life. The rest of it only bred Radicals. +Still, let her have a trial at least; let them decide to-morrow to give +her a chance; 'twould be no more than neighbourly. Her ways might be +old-fashioned; but she could learn. And with Mrs. Trevarthen to keep the +grand new schoolroom dusted—if they would give her the job—and look +after the fires and lighting."—</p> + +<p>Rosewarne pretended to listen. The poor soul was inefficient, and he knew +it: beneath all her flow of speech ran an undercurrent of wrath against +the new learning and all its works. Poverty—sheer terror of a dwindling +cupboard and the workhouse to follow—drove her to plead with that which +she hated worse than the plague. He heard, and all the while his mind was +miles away from her petition; for some chance word or words let fall by +her had seemed for an instant to offer him a clue. Somewhere in the past +these words had made part of a phrase or sentence which, could he but find +it again, would resolve all this brooding trouble. He searched his +memory—in vain; the words drew together like dancers in a figure, and +then, on the edge of combining, fell apart and were lost.</p> + +<p>Aloud he kept saying, "You mustn't count on it. Some provision will be +made for you, no doubt—in these days one must march with the times." +This was all the comfort she could win from him, and the poor old creature +gazed after him forlornly when at length he broke from her and went his +way up the hill.</p> + +<p>He reached the entrance-gate. As it clashed behind him, two children at +play in the garden lifted their heads. The girl whispered to the boy, +and the pair stole away out of sight. From the porch the small greyhound +caught sight of him, and, bounding to him, fawned about his feet. +In the counting-house he found his sister closeted with Mr. Benny, and a +pile of bills on the table between. Mrs. Purchase rose and greeted him +with a little pecking kiss. She was a cheerful body, by some five or six +years his junior, with a handsome weather-tanned face, eyes wrinkled at +the corners like a seaman's, and two troubles in the world—the first +being that she had borne no children. She shared her husband's voyaging, +kept the ship's accounts, was known to all on board as "The Bos'un," and +when battened under hatches in foul weather spent her time in trimming the +most wonderful bonnets. Her coquetry stopped short at bonnets. +To-day indeed—the weather being warm—in lieu of bodice she had slipped +on a grey alpaca coat of her husband's.</p> + +<p>"Good-evening, John!" She plunged at once into a narrative of the passage +home—how they had picked up a slant off Heligoland and carried it with +them well past the Wight; how on this side of Portland they had met with +slight and baffling head-winds, and for two days had done little more than +drift with the tides. The vessel was foul with weed, and must go into +dock. "You could graze a cow on her for a fortnight," Mrs. Purchase +declared. "Benny and I have just finished checking the bills. +You'd like to run through them?"</p> + +<p>"Let be," said Rosewarne. "I'll cast an eye over them to-night maybe." +He stepped to the bell-rope and rang for his jug of cider.</p> + +<p>Some touch of fatigue in the movement, some slight greyness in his face, +caught Mrs. Purchase's sisterly eye.</p> + +<p>"It's my belief you're unwell, John."</p> + +<p>"Weary, my dear Hannah—weary; that's all." He turned to the little +clerk. "That will do for to-night, Benny. You can leave all the papers +as they are, just putting these bills together in a heap. Is that the +correspondence? Very well; I'll deal with it."</p> + +<p>"In all my life I never heard you own to feeling tired," persisted Mrs. +Purchase, as Mr. Benny closed the door behind him. "You may take my word +for it, you're unwell; been sleeping in some damp bed, belike."</p> + +<p>Rosewarne moved to the window and gazed out across the garden. +Down by the yew-hedge, where a narrow path of turf wound in and out among +beds of tall Madonna lilies and Canterbury bells, the two children were +playing a solemn game of follow-my-leader, the blind boy close on his +sister's heels, she turning again and again to watch that he came to no +harm.</p> + +<p>"I wonder if that boy could be trained and made fit for something?" mused +Rosewarne aloud.</p> + +<p>"Eh? Is it Clem?" She had followed and stood now by his elbow. +"My dear man, he has the brains of the family! Leave Myra to teach him +for a while. See how she's teaching him now, although she doesn't know +it; and that goes on from morning to night."</p> + +<p>"Where's the use of it? What's a blind man, at the best?"</p> + +<p>"What God means him to be. If God means him to do better—ay, or to see +clearer—than other men, 'tisn't a pair of darkened eyes will prevent it."</p> + +<p>"Woman's argument, Hannah. I take you on your own ground—God could cure +the child's eyes; but God doesn't, you see. On the contrary, God chose to +blind 'em. If I'd your religion, it would teach me that Clem's misfortune +was a punishment designed—the sins of the fathers."—</p> + +<p>"Ay, you're a hard man, like your father and mine. Haven't I cause to +know it? Hadn't <i>she</i> cause to know it—the mother of that pretty pair?"</p> + +<p>"She made her bed."</p> + +<p>"—And lies in it, poor soul. But I tell you, John, there's a worse +blindness than Clem's, and you and father have suffered from it. +I mean the blindness of thinking you know God's business so much better +than God that you take it out of His hands. 'Punishment,' you say, and +'sins of the fathers'? I'd have you beware how you visit the past on poor +Clem, or happen you may find some day that out of the sins of his fathers +you have chosen your own to lay on him."</p> + +<p>Rosewarne turned on her with a harsh glance of suspicion. No, her eyes +were candid—she had spoken so by chance—she did not guess.</p> + +<p>Had he been blind all his life? It was certain that now at the last his +eyes saw the world differently, and all things in it. Those children +yonder—a hundred times from this window he had watched them at play +without heeding. To-night they moved against the dark yew-hedge like +figures in a toy theatre, withdrawn within a shadowy world of their own, +celebrating a ritual in which he had no concern. The same instant +revealed their beauty and removed them beyond his reach. Did he wish to +make amends? He could not tell. He only knew it was too late. The world +was slipping away from him—these children with it—dissolving into the +shadow that climbed about him.</p> + +<p>Next morning he saddled his horse and rode. His way led him past the new +school-buildings; and he reined up for a minute, while his eyes dwelt on +them with a certain pride. As chairman of the new School Board he had +chosen the architect, supervised the plans, and seen to it that the +contractor used none but the best material. The school would compare with +any in the Duchy, and should have a teacher worthy of it—one to open the +children's eyes and proclaim and inculcate the doctrine of progress. +John Rosewarne was a patriot in his unemotional way. He hated the drift +of the rural population into the towns, foreseeing that it sapped the +strength of England. He despised it too; his own experience telling him +that a countryman might amass wealth if he had brains and used them. +As for the brainless herd, they should be kept on the land at all cost, to +grow strong, breed strong children, and, when the inevitable hour came, be +used as fighters to defend England's wealth.</p> + +<p>He rode on pondering, past uplands where the larks sang and the mowers +whetted their scythes; down between honeysuckle-hedges to a small village +glassing itself in the head waters of a creek, asleep, since all its grown +inhabitants had climbed the hill to toil in the hay-harvest, and silent +but for a few clucking fowls and a murmur of voices within the infants' +school; thence across a bridge, and up and along a winding valley to the +park gates at Damelioc. Beyond these the valley narrowed to a sylvan +gorge, and the speckless carriage-road mounted under forest trees +alongside a river tumbling in miniature cascades, swirling under mossy +footbridges, here and there artfully delayed to form a trout-pool, or as +artfully veiled by thickets of trailing wild roses and Traveller's Joy. +For a mile and more he rode upward under soft green shadows, then lifted +his eyes to wide daylight as the coombe opened suddenly upon a noble +home-park, smooth as a lawn, rising in waves among the folds of the hills +to a high plateau whence Damelioc House looked seaward—a house of wide +prospect and in aspect stately, classical in plan, magnificently filling +the eye with its bold straight lines and ample symmetries prolonged in +terraces and rows of statues interset with pointed yews.</p> + +<p>The mistress of this palace gave him audience as usual in her +blue-and-white morning-room, from the ceiling of which, from the centre of +a painting, "The Nuptials of Venus and Vulcan," her own youthful face +smiled down, her husband having for a whim instructed the painter to +depict the goddess in her likeness. It smiled down now on a little +shrunken lady huddled deep in an easy-chair. Only her dark eyes kept some +of their old expressiveness, and her voice an echo of its old full tone.</p> + +<p>She asked Rosewarne a polite question or two concerning his holiday, and +they fell at once to ordinary talk—of repairs, rents, game, and +live-stock generally, the hiring of a couple of under-keepers, the +likeliest tenant for a park-lodge which had fallen empty; of investments +too, and the money market, since Rosewarne was her man of business as well +as steward.</p> + +<p>Lady Killiow trusted him absolutely; but only because she had long since +proved him. He on his part yielded her the deepest respect, both for her +sagacity in business and for the fine self-command with which she, an +actress of obscure birth, had put the stage behind her, assumed her rank, +and borne it through all these years with something more than adequacy. +John Rosewarne, like a true Briton, venerated rank, and had a Briton's +instinct for the behaviour proper to rank. About his mistress there could +be no question. She was a great lady to the last drop of her blood.</p> + +<p>His devotion to her had a touch of high chivalry. It came of long +service; of pity for her early widowhood, for her childlessness, for the +fate ordaining that all these great possessions must be inherited by +strangers; but most of all it was coloured by a memory of which he had +never dared, and would never dare, to speak.</p> + +<p>He had seen her on the stage. Once, in his wild days, and not long before +he enlisted, he had spent a week in Plymouth, where she was acting, the +one star in a touring company. Night after night she had laid a spell on +him; it was not Rosalind, not Imogen, not Mrs. Haller, not Lady Teazle, +that he watched from the pit; but one divine woman passing from avatar to +avatar. So, when the last night revealed her as Lady Macbeth, as little +could he condemn her of guilt as understand her remorse. He saw her +suffering because for so splendid a creature nothing less could be decreed +by the jealous gods. It tortured him; and when the officer announced her +death, for the moment he could believe no less. 'The queen, my lord, is +dead.' 'She should have died hereafter.' How well he remembered the +words and Macbeth's reply—those two strokes upon the heart, strokes of a +muffled bell following the outcry of women.</p> + +<p>He was no reader of poetry. He had bought the book afterwards, and flung +it away; it tangled him in words, but showed him nothing of the woman he +sought.</p> + +<p>Yet to-day, as he stood before Lady Killiow discussing the petty question +of a lease, the scene and words flashed upon him together, and he grasped +the clue for which his brain had been searching yesterday while he +listened to old Mrs. Butson. It was Lady Killiow who called the lease a +'petty' one, and that word unlocked his memory. "This petty pace—</p> + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p class = "noindent"> "To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,<br> + Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,<br> + To the last syllable of recorded time—<br> + And all our yesterdays have lighted fools<br> + The way to dusty death."<br></p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + +<p>"I beg your pardon," said Lady Killiow, lifting her eyes to him in some +astonishment—for he had muttered a word or two—and meeting his fixed +stare. "You are not attending, I believe."</p> + +<p>"Excuse me, my lady. It is true that I have not been well of late—and +that reminds me: in case of illness, my son will post down from Plymouth. +He holds himself ready at call. If I may say it, you will find him less +of a fool than he looks."</p> + +<p>Lady Killiow put up her hands with a little laugh, half comfortable, half +wistful. "My good Mr. Rosewarne, I am a very old woman! In a short while +you may do as you like; but until I am gone, please understand that you +cannot possibly fall ill."</p> + +<p>He bowed with a grave smile. Of his mistress's grateful affection he took +away these light words only: but they were enough.</p> + +<br><br> +<p>He had thought by this visit to Damelioc to lay his demon of restlessness; +had supposed this monthly account of his stewardship, punctually rendered, +to be the business weighing on his mind. But no: as he passed out through +the park gates, the imp perched itself again behind his crupper, urging +him forward, tormenting him with the same vague sense of duty neglected +and clamorous.</p> + +<p>Towards evening it grew so nearly intolerable that he had much ado to sit +patiently and preside at the School Board meeting, convened, as usual, in +the great parlour at Hall. All the Board was there: the Clerk, Mr. Benny, +and the six Managers; two Churchmen, three Dissenters, and himself—a +Gallio with a casting vote. He was used to reflecting cynically that +these opponents trusted him precisely because he cared less than a +tinker's curse for their creeds, and reconciled all religious differences +in a broad, impartial contempt. But to-night, as Parson Endicott +approached the crucial difficulty—the choice of a new teacher—with all +the wariness of a practised committee-man, laying his innocent parallels +and bringing up his guns under cover of a pleasant disavowal to which the +three Dissenters responded with "Hear, hear!" John Rosewarne listened not +at all, nor to the fence of debate that followed as Church and Dissent +grew heated and their friction struck out the familiar sparks— +'sectarian,' 'undoctrinal,' 'arrogance,' 'broad-mindedness.' At length +came the equally familiar pause, when the exhausted combatants turned by +consent and waited on their chairman. He sat tapping his fingers upon the +polished mahogany, watching the reflected candle-lights along its surface, +wondering when these fretful voices would cease, these warring atoms +release him to obey the summons of his soul—still incomprehensible, still +urgent.</p> + +<p>Their sudden hush recalled him with a start. He had heard nothing of +their debate. Slowly he lifted his eyes and let them rest upon Mr. Benny, +who sat on his right, patiently waiting to take down the next entry for +the minutes.</p> + +<p>"If you will trust me," he said, "I can find you a teacher—a woman—whom +you will all accept."</p> + +<p>He had spoken without premeditation, and paused now, doubtful of the sound +of his own voice. The five Managers were looking at him with respectful +attention. Apparently, then, he was speaking sense; and he spoke on, +still wondering by what will (not his own) the words came.</p> + +<p>"If you leave her and the children alone, I think her religion will not +trouble you. She is accustomed to boys, and teaches them to be honourable +to one another and gentle to their sisters."</p> + +<p>He paused again and drummed with his fingers on the table. He heard the +voices break out again, and gathered that the majority assented. +Mechanically he put the resolution, declared it carried, and closed the +meeting; as mechanically he shook hands with all the Managers and wished +them good-night. "And on your way, Benny, you may tell the maids they may +go to bed. I'll blow out the candles myself."</p> + +<p>When all had taken their leave he sat for a while, still staring at the +reflected lights along the board. Then he arose and passed into his +counting-house, where an oil lamp burned upon his writing-table.</p> + +<p>He took pen and paper and wrote, addressed the letter, sealed it +carefully, and leaned back in his chair, studying the address.</p> + +<p>"There is to-morrow," he muttered. "I can reconsider it before post-time +to-morrow."</p> + +<p>But the restlessness had vanished and left in its stead a deep peace. +If Death waited for him in the next room, he felt that he could go quietly +now and take it by the hand. He remembered the candles still burning +there, and stood up with a slight shiver—a characteristic shake of his +broad shoulders. As he did so his eyes fell again upon the addressed +letter. He turned them slowly to the door—and there, between him and the +lights on the long table, a vision moved towards him—the figure of a girl +dressed all in black. His hand went up to the phial in his breast-pocket, +but paused half-way as he gazed into the face and met her eyes….</p> + + +<br><br> +<p><a name = "6"></a> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER VI.</h3> + +<h4>THE RAFTERS.</h4> + +<p>Two children came stealing downstairs in the early dawn, carrying their +boots in their hands, whispering, lifting their faces as if listening for +some sound to come from the upper floors. But the whole house kept +silence.</p> + +<p>Their plan was to escape by one of the windows on the ground floor. +Tiptoeing along the hall to the door of the great parlour, Myra +noiselessly lifted the latch (all the doors in the house had old-fashioned +latches) and peeped in. The candles on the long table had burned +themselves out, and the shuttered room lay in darkness save for one long +glint of light along the mahogany table-top. It came from the half-open +doorway in the far corner, beyond which, in the counting-house, a ghost of +a flame yet trembled in Rosewarne's lamp.</p> + +<p>Myra caught at Clem's arm and drew him back into the hall. For the moment +terror overcame her—terror of something sinister within—of their +grandfather sitting there like Giant Pope in the story, waiting to catch +them. She hurried Clem along to the kitchen-passage, which opened out of +the hall at right angles to the front door and close beside it. +The front door had a fanlight through which fell one broken sunray, +filtered to a pale green by the honeysuckle of the porch; and reaching it, +she caught her breath in a new alarm. The bolts were drawn.</p> + +<p>After a furtive glance behind her, she peered more closely, holding Clem +fast by the sleeve. Yes, certainly the bolts were drawn, and the key had +not been turned in the lock. Very cautiously she tried the heavy latch. +The door opened easily—though with a creak that fetched her heart into +her mouth.</p> + +<p>But there was no going back. Whatever might be the explanation of the +unbolted door, they were free now, at large in the dewy morning with the +world at their feet. The brightness of it dazzled Myra. It broke on +Clem's ears with the dinning of innumerable birds.</p> + +<p>They took hands and hurried down the gravel path. Did ever Madonna +lilies, did ever clove carnations smell as did these, lifting their heads +from their morning bath? Yet field challenged garden with the fragrance +of new-mown hay wafted down through the elms from Parc-an-hal, that great +meadow.</p> + +<p>On the low wall by the garden-gate Myra found a seat for Clem, helped him +to lace his boots, and then did on her own.</p> + +<p>"What's the time?" Clem demanded.</p> + +<p>"I don't know, but he'll be coming soon. It can't be four o'clock yet, or +we should hear Jim Tregay knocking about the milk-pails."</p> + +<p>The boy sat silent, nursing his knee, drinking in a thousand scents and +sounds. Myra watched the great humble-bees staggering from flower to +flower, blundering among their dew-filled cups. She drew down a lily-stem +gently, and guided her brother's hand so that it held one heady fellow +imprisoned, buzzing under his palm and tickling it. Clem laughed aloud.</p> + +<p>"Listen!"</p> + +<p>A lad came whistling Up the road from the village. It was Tom Trevarthen, +and the sunshine glinted on his silver earrings.</p> + +<p>"Good-morning, missy! Good-morning, Master Clem! I'm good as my word, +you see; though be sure I never reckoned to find 'ee up and out at this +hour."</p> + +<p>"Myra woke me," said Clem. "I believe she keeps a clock in her head."</p> + +<p>"When I want to wake up at any particular hour, I just do it," Myra +announced calmly. "Have they begun the rafting?"</p> + +<p>"Bless your life, they've been working all night. There's one raft +finished, and the other ought to be ready in a couple or three hours, to +save the tide across the bay."</p> + +<p>"I don't hear them singing."</p> + +<p>"'Tisn't allowed. The Bo—your Aunt Hannah, I mean—says she don't mind +what happens to sea, but she won't have her nights in harbour disturbed. +Old Billy Daddo hadn't laid hands on the first balk before he began to +pipe, 'O for a thousand tongues to sing,' starting on the very first hymn +in the collection like as if he meant to sing right through it. He hadn't +got to 'music in the sinner's ears' before the old woman pushed her face +overside by the starboard cathead, nightcap and all—in that time she must +ha' nipped out of her berth, up the companion, and along the length of the +deck—and says she, 'I ben't no sinner, William Daddo, but a staid woman +that likes her sleep and means to have it.' 'Why, missus,' says Billy, +'you'll surely lev' a man ask a blessing on his labours!' 'Ask quiet +then,' she says, 'or you'll get slops.' Since then they be all as mute as +mice."</p> + +<p>Myra took Clem's hand, and the three hurried down the hill and through the +sleeping village to the ferry-slip, where Tom had a ship's boat ready. +In fifty strokes he brought her alongside the barque where the rafters— +twenty-five or thirty—were at work, busy as flies. The <i>Virtuous Lady</i> +had been towed up overnight from her first anchorage to a berth under Hall +gardens, and a hatch opened in her bows, through which the long balks of +timber were thrust by the stevedores at work in the hold and received by a +gang outside, who floated them off to be laid raftwise and lashed together +with chains. The sun, already working around to the south, gilded the +barque's top-gallant masts and yards, and flung a stream of gold along the +raft already finished and moored in midstream. But the great hull lay as +yet in the cool shadow of the hillside over which the larks sang.</p> + +<p>Tom Trevarthen found the children a corner on the half-finished raft, out +of the way of the workmen, and a spare tarpaulin to keep their clothes +dry; and there they sat happily, the boy listening and Myra explaining, +until Mrs. Purchase, having slept her sleep and dressed herself (partly), +emerged on deck with a teapot to fill at the cook's galley, and, looking +over the bulwarks, caught sight of them.</p> + +<p>"Hullo! You don't tell me that Susannah,"—this was the housekeeper at +Hall—"allows you abroad at this hour!"</p> + +<p>Now the risk of Susannah's discovering their escape and pursuing was the +one bitter drop in the cup of these truants' happiness. Susannah—a +middle-aged, ill-favoured spinster, daughter of a yeoman-farmer, with +whose second wife she could not agree—scorned the sea and all sailors. +Once, as a girl, she had committed her ample person to a sailing boat, +and, thank God! that one lesson had been enough. Ships came and went +under the windows of Hall, but in the children's eyes they and their crews +belonged to an unknown world. Things real to them were the farm and farm +stock, harvests and harvest-homes, the waggoners' teams, byres, orchards, +garden, and cool dairy. Ships' captains arrived out of fairyland +sometimes, and crossed the straw-littered townplace to hold audience with +their grandfather; magic odours of hemp and pitch, magic chanty songs and +clanking of windlasses called to them up the hill; but until this morning +they had never dared to obey the call. Had Clem been as other boys—. +But, being blind, he trusted to Myra, and Myra was a girl.</p> + +<p>"Come aboard and have a drink of something cordial!" continued Mrs. +Purchase, holding the teapot aloft. She walked forward and looked down on +the workers. "Now you may sing, boys, if't pleases 'ee."</p> + +<p>"Thank'ee, ma'am," answered up Billy Daddo; "then lev' us make a start +with Wrestling Jacob, Part Two—"</p> + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p class = "noindent"> 'Lame as I am, I take the prey'—</p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + + + + +<p>"'Tis a pleasant old tune and never comes amiss, but for choice o' seasons +give me the dew o' the mornin'."</p> + +<p>He pitched the note in high falsetto, and after a couple of bars five or +six near comrades joined in together—</p> + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p class = "noindent">"Speak to me now, for I am weak,<br> +<span class = "ind3">But confident in self-despair:</span><br> + Speak to my heart, in blessings speak;<br> +<span class = "ind3">Be conquer'd by my instant prayer!</span><br> + Speak, or thou never hence shall move,<br> +<span class = "ind3">And tell me if thy name is Love."</span><br></p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + +<p>Billy Daddo's gang hailed from a parish, three miles up the coast, noted +for containing "but one man that couldn't preach, and that was the +parson." Their fellow-labourers—the crew of the barque and half-a-score +longshoremen belonging to the port—heard without thought of deriding. +Though themselves unconverted—for life in a town, especially in a seaport +town, makes men curious and critical rather than intense, and life in a +ship ruled by Mrs. Purchase did not encourage visionaries—they were +accustomed to the fervours of the redeemed.</p> + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p class = "noindent">"'Tis Love! 'tis Love! thou diedst for me:<br> +<span class = "ind3">I hear thy whisper in my heart—!"</span><br></p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + +<p>"Brayvo! 'tis workin'! 'tis workin'! Give it tongue, brother Langman!" +cried Billy, as a stevedore within the hold broke forth into a stentorian +bass that made the ship rumble—</p> + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p class = "noindent">The morning breaks, the shadows flee,<br> +<span class = "ind3">Pure universal Love thou art:</span><br> + To me, to me thy bowels move,<br> +<span class = "ind3">Thy nature and thy name is Love!"</span></p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + +<p>Meanwhile young Tom Trevarthen had brought the children under the vessel's +side, and was helping Clem up the ladder. Mrs. Purchase greeted them with +a kiss apiece, and carried them off to the cabin, where they found Mr. +Purchase eating bread and cream.</p> + +<p>Skipper Purchase, a smart seaman in his day and a first-class navigator, +had for a year or two been gradually weakening in the head; a decline +which his wife noted, though she kept her anxiety to herself. +She foresaw with a pang the end of their voyaging, and watched him +narrowly, having made a compact with herself to interfere before he +imperilled the <i>Virtuous Lady</i>. Hitherto, however, his wits had +unfailingly cleared to meet an emergency. While she could count upon +this, she knew herself competent to rule the ship in all ordinary weather.</p> + +<p>"Help yourselves to cream," said Mr. Purchase, after giving them +good-morning. "Clever men tell me there's more nourishment in a pound o' +cream than in an ox. Now that may seem marvellous in your eyes?" +He paused with a wavering, absent-minded smile. "'Tis the most nourishing +food in the animal, vegetable, or mineral kingdoms,—unless you count +parsnips."</p> + +<p>"T'cht!" his wife put in briskly, banging down a couple of clean teacups +on the swing-table. "Children don't want a passel o' science in their +insides. Milk or weak tea, my dears?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know," the skipper went on after another long pause, bringing his +Uncertain eyes to bear on Clem, "if you've ever taken note what +astonishing things folks used to eat in the Bible. There's locusts, and +wild honey, and unleavened bread—I made out a list of oddments one time. +Nebbycannezzar don't count, of course; but Ezekiel took down a whole book +in the shape of a roll."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Purchase signed to Myra to pay no heed, and engaged Clem in a sort of +quick-firing catechism on the cabin fittings, their positions and uses. +The boy, who had been on board but once in his life before, stretched out +a hand and touched each article as she named it.</p> + +<p>"The lamp, now?"</p> + +<p>Clem reached up at once and laid his fingers on it, gently as a butterfly +alights on a flower.</p> + +<p>"How does it swing?"</p> + +<p>"On gimbals."</p> + +<p>"Eh? and what may gimbals be?"</p> + +<p>"There's a ring fastened here,"—the boy's fingers found it—"and swinging +to and fro; and inside the ring is a bar, holding the lamp so that it tips +to and fro crossways to the ring. You weight the bottom of the lamp, and +then it keeps plumb upright however the ship moves."</p> + +<p>"Wunnerful memory you've got, to be sure—and your gran'father tells me +you can't even read!"</p> + +<p>"But he knows his letters," Myra announced proudly; "and when the new +teacher comes he's to go to school with me. Susannah says so."</p> + +<p>"How in the world did you teach'n his letters, child?"</p> + +<p>"I cut them on the match-boarding inside the summer-house, and he traces +them out with his fingers. If you go up you can see for yourself—the +whole lot from A to Ampassy! He never makes a mistake—do you, Clem? +And I've begun to cut out 'Our Father,' but it's slow work."</p> + +<p>"Did ever you hear tell!" Mrs. Purchase turned to her husband, who had +come out of his reverie and sat regarding Clem with something like lively +interest. He had, in fact, opened his mouth to utter a scriptural +quotation, but, checked on the verge of it, dropped back into pensiveness.</p> + +<p>At this point Mrs. Purchase's practised ear told her that the stevedores +were ceasing work, and she bustled up the ladder to summon her crew to +swab decks. The old man, left alone with the children, leaned forward, +jerked a thumb after her, and said impressively, "I named her myself."</p> + +<p>"Who? Aunt Hannah?" stammered Myra, taken aback.</p> + +<p>"No, the ship. I named her after your aunt. 'Who can find a virtuous +woman?' says Solomon. 'I can,' says I; 'and, what's more, I done it: only +I changed the word to lady, as more becoming to one of her haveage. +Proverbs thirty-one, fourteen—turn it up when you get home, and you'll +find these words: 'She is like the merchant ships, she bringeth her food +from afar.'"</p> + +<p>"Uncle," put in Myra breathlessly, "I want you to listen for a moment! +Clem and I have run away this morning, and by this time Susannah will have +found it out and be searching. If she sends down here, couldn't you hide +us—just for a little while? The—the fact is, we've set our hearts on +going with the rafts. There's no danger in this weather, and Tom +Trevarthen has promised to look after us. I don't dare to ask Aunt +Hannah; but if you could have a boat ready just when the rafts are +starting, and hide us somewhere till then."—</p> + +<p>Mr. Purchase did not seem to hear, but rose and opened a small Dutch +corner-cupboard, inlaid with parrots and tulips, and darkly varnished. +From it he took a large Bible.</p> + +<p>"I'll show you the text I was speaking of."</p> + +<p>"But, uncle."—</p> + +<p>"They'm washing-down already," said he, lifting his head to the sound of +rushing water on deck. "Your aunt will be back in a moment, and 'tis time +for prayers."</p> + +<p>Sure enough, at that instant the feet and ankles of Mrs. Purchase appeared +on the ladder. "Tide's on the turn," she announced. "Keep your seats, my +dears; the Lord knows there's no room to kneel, and He makes allowance." +She set a small packed basket on the table, and turned to her husband. +"You'll have to pray short, too, if the children are going with the +rafts."</p> + +<p>"Going?—Oh, Aunt Hannah!"</p> + +<p>"Why, I'd a notion you <i>wanted</i> to! To be sure, if I'm wrong, I'm wrong, +and 'tisn' the first time; but young Tom Trevarthen didn' seem to reckon +so. There, get your prayers over and cut along; I'll make it all right +with your grandfather and Susannah."</p> + +<br><br> +<p>Ah, but it was bliss, and blissful to remember! The rafts dropped down +past the town quay, past the old lock-houses, past the ivied fort at the +harbour's mouth, and out to the open sea that twinkled for leagues under +the faint northerly breeze, dazzling Myra's eyes. Tom Trevarthen grinned +as he tugged at an enormous sweep with two other men, Methodists both, and +sang with them and with Billy Daddo, who steered with another sweep, +rigged aft upon a crutch—</p> + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p class = "noindent">"Praise ye the Lord! 'Tis good to raise<br> + Your hearts and voices in His praise."—<br></p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + +<p>"Now what should put it in my noddle to take up with that old hemn?" asked +Billy aloud, coming to a halt at the close of the first verse and +scratching his head. "'Tidn' one of my first fav'rites—nothing in it +about the Blood o' the Lamb—an' I can't call to mind havin' pitched it +for years. Well, never mind! The Lord hev done it with some purpose, you +may be sure."</p> + +<p>"I call it a very pretty hymn," said Myra, for he seemed to be addressing +her. "And isn't it reason enough that you're glad to be alive?"</p> + +<p>"But I bain't," Billy argued, shaking his head. "You wouldn' understand +it at your age, missy; but as a saved soul I counts the days. Long after +I was a man grown, the very sound of 'He comes, He comes! the Judge +severe,' or 'Terrible thought, shall I alone,' used to put me all of a +twitter. Now they be but weak meat, is you might say. 'Ah, lovely +appearance of death'—that's more in my line—</p> + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p class = "noindent">"Ah, lovely appearance of death!<br> +<span class = "ind3"> What sight upon earth is so fair?</span><br> + Not all the gay pageants that breathe<br> +<span class = "ind3">Can with a dead body compare."—</span><br></p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + +<p>"Don't!" Myra put both hands up to her ears. "Oh, please don't, Mr. +Daddo! And I call it wicked to stand arguing when the Lord, as you say, +put a cheerfuller tune in your head."</p> + +<p>"Well, here goes, then!" Billy resumed "Praise ye the Lord." At the +fifth verse his face began to kindle—</p> + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p class = "noindent">"What is the creature's skill or force?<br> +<span class = "ind3">The sprightly man, or warlike horse?</span><br> + The piercing wit, the active limb,<br> +<span class = "ind3"> Are all too mean delights to Him.</span><br> + But saints are lovely in His sight,<br> +<span class = "ind3"> He views His children with delight;</span><br> + He sees their hope, he knows their fear,<br> +<span class = "ind3"> And looks and loves His image there."</span><br></p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + +<p>"Ay, now," he broke out, "to think I didn' remember that verse about +children when I started to sing! And 'twas of you, missy, and the young +master here the dear Lord was thinkin' all the time!"</p> + +<p>He dropped his eyes and, leaning back against the handle of the sweep, +suddenly burst into prayer. "Suffer little children, O dear Jesus! suffer +little children. Have mercy on these two tender lambs, and so bring them, +blessed Lord, to Thy fold!"</p> + +<p>As his fervour took hold of him he left the sweep to do its own steering, +and strode up and down the raft, picking his way from balk to balk, +skipping aside now and again as the water rose between them under his +weight and overflowed his shoes. To Myra, unaccustomed to be prayed for +aloud and by name, the whole performance was absurd and embarrassing. +She blushed hotly under the eyes of the other men, and glanced at Clem, +expecting him to be no less perturbed.</p> + +<p>But Clem did not hear. The two children had taken off their boots, and he +sat with the water playing over his naked insteps and his eyes turned +southward to the horizon as if indeed he saw. With his blind gaze +fastened there he seemed to wait patiently until Billy's prayer exhausted +itself and Billy returned to the steering; and then his lips too began to +move, and he broke into a curious song.</p> + +<p>It frightened Myra, who had never heard the like of it; for it had no +words, but was just a sing-song—a chant, low at first, then rising shrill +and clear and strong, and reaching out as though to challenge the waters +twinkling between raft and horizon. Through it there ran a note of high +courage touched with tremulous yearning—yearning to escape yonder and be +free.</p> + +<p>She touched his hand. So well she loved and understood him, that even +this strange outbreak she could interpret, though it caught her at +unawares. For the moment he did not feel the touch; he was far away. +He had forgotten her—alas!—with his blindness. She belonged to his +weakness, not to his strength. For the while he dwelt in the vision of +his true manhood, which only his one infirmity forbade his inheriting; and +she had no place in it.</p> + +<p>He came back to reality with a pitiful break and quaver of the voice, and +turned his eyes helplessly toward her. She answered his gaze timidly, as +though he could see her. She was searching his eyes for tears. But there +was no trace of tears in them. He took the food she handed him from Aunt +Purchase's basket; and, having eaten, laid his head in her lap and fell +asleep.</p> + +<p>Slowly under the noonday heat and through the long afternoon the two rafts +moved across the bay, towing each its boat in which the rafters would +return in the cool of the evening.</p> +<br><br> +<p>But the children did not return in them; for on the quay, where the balks +were due, to be warped ashore unlashed and conveyed inland to the mines, +stood Jim Tregay waiting with their grandfather's blood-mare Actress +harnessed in a spring-cart. How came Jim here, at this distance from +home?</p> + +<p>"Been waiting for you these two hours!" he called to the children. +"Jump into the boat there and come ashore. You'm wanted to home, and at +once!"</p> + + +<br><br> +<p><a name = "7"></a> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER VII.</h3> + +<h4>THE HEIRS OF HALL.</h4> + +<p>They landed and clambered into the spring-cart.</p> + +<p>"Nothing wrong at home, I hope?" called Tom Trevarthen from the quay's +edge, as he pushed off to scull back to the raft.</p> + +<p>"Oh, this is Susannah's nonsense, you may be sure!" called back Myra. +"I suppose she carried her tales to grandfather, and he packed you off +after us, Jim Tregay? Well, you needn't look so glum about it. +Aunt Hannah gave us leave, and told Tom to look after us, and we've had a +heavenly day, so Susannah may scold till she's tired."</p> + +<p>"Hold the reins for a moment, Miss Myra, if you please." +Jim left the mare's head and walked down the quay, holding up his hand to +delay the young sailor, who slewed his boat round, and brought her +alongside again. The pair were whispering together. Myra heard a sharp +exclamation, and in a moment Tom Trevarthen was sculling away for dear +life. Jim ran back, jumped into the cart, and took the reins.</p> + +<p>"But what is he shouting?" asked Myra, as the mare's hoofs struck and slid +on the cobbles and the cart seemed to spring forward beneath her. +She clutched her brother as they swayed past mooring-posts, barrels, coils +of rope, and with a wild lurch around the tollman's house at the +quay-head, breasted the steep village street. "What's he shouting?" she +demanded again.</p> + +<p>Jim made no answer, but, letting the reins lie loose, flicked Actress +smartly with the whip. Even a child could tell that no horse ought to be +put at a hill in this fashion. Faces appeared at cottage doors—faces +Myra had never seen in her life—gazing with a look she could not +understand. All the faces, too, seemed to wear this look.</p> + +<p>"What has happened?"</p> + +<p>At the top of the hill, on a smoother road, the mare settled down to a +steady gallop. Jim Tregay turned himself half-about in his seat.</p> + +<p>"From battle and murder and from sudden death—good Lord, deliver us!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Jim, be kind and tell us!"</p> + +<p>"Your grandfather, missy—the old maister! They found 'en in the +counting-house this mornin' dead as a nail!"</p> + +<p>Myra, with an arm about Clem and her disengaged hand gripping the light +rail of the cart, strove to fix her mind, to bring her brain to work upon +Jim's words. But they seemed to spin past her with the hedgerows and the +rushing wind in her ears. A terrible blow had fallen. Why could she not +feel it? Why did she sit idly wondering, when even a dumb creature like +Actress seemed to understand and put forth all her fleetness?</p> + +<p>"Who sent you for us? Susannah?"</p> + +<p>"Susannah's no better than a daft woman. Peter Benny sent me. +He took down the news to Mrs. Purchase, and she told him where you was +gone. He called out the horse-boat and packed me across the ferry +instanter."</p> + +<p>Myra gazed along the ridge of the mare's back to her heaving shoulders.</p> + +<p>"Clem!" she whispered.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said the boy slowly, "I am trying to understand. Why are we going +so fast?"</p> + +<p>So he too found it difficult. In truth their grandfather had stood +outside their lives, a stern, towering shadow from the touch of which +they crept away to nestle in each other's love. Because his presence +brooded indoors they had never felt happy of the house. Because he +seldom set foot in the garden they had made the garden their playground, +their real nursery; the garden, and on wet days the barn, the hay-lofts, +the apple-lofts, any Alsatia beyond the rules, where they could run free +and lift their voices. He had never been unkind, but merely neglectful, +unsmiling, coldly deterrent, unapproachable. They knew, of course, +that he was great, that grown men and women stood in awe of him.</p> + +<p>When at length Jim Tregay reined up in the roadway above the ferry, they +found a vehicle at a stand there, with a rough-coated grey horse in a +lather of sweat; and peering over the wall from her perch in the +spring-cart, Myra spied Mr. Benny on the slipway below, in converse +with a tall, black-coated man who held by the hand a black-coated boy. +As a child, she naturally let her gaze rest longer on the boy than on the +man; but by and by, as she led Clem down the slipway, she found herself +staring at the two with almost equal distaste.</p> + +<p>Little Mr. Benny ran up the slipway to meet the children. His eyes were +red, and it was with difficulty that he controlled his voice.</p> + +<p>"My dears," he began, taking Myra by the hand and clasping it between his +palms, "my poor dears, a blow indeed! a terrible blow! Your uncle—dear +me, I believe you have never met! Let me present you to your uncle, +Mr. Samuel, and your cousin, Master Calvin Rosewarne. These are the +children, Mr. Samuel—Miss Myra and Master Clem—and, as I was saying, I +sent a trap to fetch them home with all speed."</p> + +<p>The man in black shook hands with the children gloomily. Myra noted that +his whiskers were black and straggling, and that, though his upper lip was +long, it did not hide his prominent yellow teeth. As for the boy, he +shook hands as if Under protest, and fell at once to staring hard at Clem. +He had a pasty-white face, which looked the unhealthier for being +surmounted by a natty velveteen cap with a patent-leather up-and-down +peak, and he wore a black overcoat, like a minister's, knickerbockers, +grey woollen stockings, and spring-side boots, the tags of which he had +neglected to turn in.</p> + +<p>"You sent for them?" asked Mr. Samuel sourly as he shook hands, turning a +fishy eye upon Mr. Benny. "Why did you send for them?"</p> + +<p>"Eh?" stammered Mr. Benny. "Their poor grandfather, Mr. Samuel! I could +not have forgiven myself. It was, after telegraphing to you, my first +thought."</p> + +<p>"I can't see with what object you sent for them," persisted Mr. Samuel, +and pulled at his ragged whiskers. "Were they—er—away on a visit? +staying with friends? If so, I should have thought they were much better +left till after the funeral."</p> + +<p>He shifted his gaze from Mr. Benny and fixed it on Myra, who flushed +hotly. What right had this Mr. Samuel to be interfering and taking +charge?</p> + +<p>"We were not staying with friends," she answered, "or paying any visit. +Clem and I have never slept away from home in our lives. We have been +across the bay with the rafts—that's all; and Aunt Hannah gave Us leave."</p> + +<p>He ignored her display of temper. "You've been let run wild, you two, I +daresay," he replied, in a tone almost rallying. "I guess you have had +matters pretty much your own way."</p> + +<p>Poor Myra! This was the first whole holiday she and Clem had ever taken. +But how could she tell him? She gulped down her tears—she was glad he +had turned away without perceiving them—clutched Clem's hand in silence, +and followed down to the boat, which Uncle Vro was bringing alongside.</p> + +<p>As the party settled themselves in the sternsheets Master Calvin fixed his +pale, gooseberry-coloured eyes on hers.</p> + +<p>"You needn't show temper," he said slowly, with the air of a young +ruminant animal.</p> + +<p>"I'm not showing temper!" Myra retorted in a tone which certainly belied +her.</p> + +<p>"Yes, you are; and you've told a fib, which only makes things worse." +He smiled complacently at having beaten her in argument, and Myra thought +she had never met such an insufferable boy in her life.</p> + +<p>He transferred his unblinking stare to Clem, and for half a minute took +stock of him silently. "Is he blind," he asked aloud, "or only +pretending?"</p> + +<p>Myra's face flamed now. A little more, and she had boxed his ears; but +she checked herself and, caressing the back of Clem's hand, answered with +grave irony, "He <i>was</i> blind, up to a minute ago; but now, since seeing +you, he prefers to be pretending."</p> + +<p>Master Calvin considered this for almost a minute. "That's rude," he +announced at length decisively.</p> + +<p>But meanwhile other passengers in the boat had found time to get +themselves at loggerheads.</p> + +<p>"Your servant, Master Samuel!" began old Nicky affably, as he fell to his +oars. "I hope I see 'ee well, though 'tis a sad wind that blows 'ee here. +Ay, there's a prophet gone this day from Israel!"</p> + +<p>Mr. Samuel frowned. "Good-evening," he answered coldly, and added, with +an effort to be polite, "I seem to know your face, too."</p> + +<p>"He-he!" Uncle Nicky leaned on his oars with a senile chuckle. +"Know my face, dost-a? Ought to, be sure, for I be the same Nicholas Vro +that ferried 'ee back and forth in the old days afore your father's +stomach soured against 'ee. Dostn't-a mind that evening I put 'ee across +with your trunks for the last time? 'Never take on, Master Sam,' said I— +for all the parish knew and talked of your differences—'give the old +man time, and you'll be coming home for the Christmas holidays as welcome +as flowers in May.' 'Not me,' says you; 'my father's is a house o' wrath, +and there's no place for me.' A mort o' tide-water have runned up an' +down since you spoke they words; but here be I, Nicholas Vro, takin' 'ee +back home as I promised. Many times I've a-pictered 'ee, hearing you was +grown prosperous and a married man and had took up with religion. +I won't say that years have bettered your appearance; 'tisn't their way. +But I'd ha' picked out your face in a crowd—or your cheeld's, for that +matter. He features you wonderful."</p> + +<p>"I remember you now," said Mr. Sam. "You haven't grown any less talkative +in all these years." He turned to Mr. Benny. "Your telegram was sent off +at nine-forty-five. Was that as early as possible?"</p> + +<p>"I can say 'yes' to that, Mr. Samuel. Of course I had to begin by +quieting the servants—they were scared out of their wits, and it took me +some time to coax them out of their alarm. Then, taking boat, I rowed +down to the post-office, stopping only at the barque yonder, to break the +news to Mrs. Purchase. She put on her bonnet at once and was rowed +ashore. 'Twas from her, too, I learned the whereabouts of Miss Myra and +Master Clem; for up at the house they could not be found, and this had +thrown Miss Susannah into worse hysterics—she could only imagine some new +disaster. At first I was minded to send a boat after them, but by this +time the rafts were a good two miles beyond the harbour, and Mrs. Purchase +said, 'No, they can do no good, poor dears; let them have their few hours' +pleasure.' From the barque I pulled straight to the post-office, and sent +off the telegram, and—dear me, yes—at the same time I posted a letter. +I had found it, ready stamped, lying on the floor by my poor master's +feet. It must have dropped from his hand; no doubt he had just finished +writing it when the end came."</p> + +<p>"But why such a hurry to post it?"</p> + +<p>"It was marked 'Private and Immediate.'"</p> + +<p>"For whom?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Benny hesitated. "You will excuse me, Mr. Samuel."—</p> + +<p>"Confidential?"</p> + +<p>"As a matter of fact, sir, when Mr. Rosewarne marked his letters so I made +it a rule never to read the address. But this one—coming upon it as I +did—I couldn't help."—</p> + +<p>"You prefer to keep the address to yourself?"</p> + +<p>"With your leave, sir."</p> + +<p>Mr. Samuel eyed him sharply. "Quite right!" he said curtly, with a glance +at Uncle Vro; but the old man was not listening.</p> + +<p>"Lord! and I mind his second marriage!" he muttered. "A proper lady she +was, from up Tamar-way. He brought her home across water, and that's +unlucky, they say; but he never minded luck. Firm as a nail he ever was, +and put me in mind of the nail in Isaiah: 'As a nail in a sure place I +will fasten him, and they shall hang upon him all the glory of his +father's house, the offspring and the issue, all vessels of small +quantity, from the vessels of cups even to all the vessels of flagons.' +But the offspring and the issue, my dears," he went on, addressing Clem +and Myra, "was but your poor mother. Well-a-well, weak or strong, we go +in our time!"</p> + +<p>As they landed and climbed the hill, Mr. Sam spoke with Peter Benny aside.</p> + +<p>"They may ask about that letter at the inquest. You have thought of the +inquest, of course?"</p> + +<p>"If they do, I must answer them."</p> + +<p>"So far as you know, there was nothing in it to cause strong emotion— +nothing to account—?"</p> + +<p>"Dear me, no," answered Mr. Benny, staring at him in mild astonishment; +"so far as I know, nothing whatever."</p> + +<p>After packing Susannah off to her room with a Bible and a smelling-bottle, +Mrs. Purchase had set herself to reduce the household to order. +"'Tisn't in nature to think of death," confessed Martha the dairy-girl, +"when you'm worrited from pillar to post by a woman in creaky boots."</p> + +<p>Above and beside her creaky boots Aunt Hannah had a cheerful, incurable +habit of slamming every door she passed through. It came, she would +explain, of living on shipboard where cabin was divided from cabin either +by a simple curtain or by sliding panels. Be this is it may, she kept the +house of mourning re-echoing that day "like a labouring ship with a cargo +of tinware," to quote Martha again, whose speech derived many forcible +idioms from her father, the mate of a coaster.</p> + +<p>Nevertheless—and although it appeared to induce a steady breeze through +the house, rising to a moderate gale when meals were toward—Aunt Hannah's +presence acted like a tonic on all. She presented to Mr. Sam a +weather-ruddied cheek, receiving his kiss on what, in so round a face as +hers, might pass for the point of the jaw. In saluting Master Calvin she +had perforce to take the offensive, and did so with equal aplomb. +After a rapid survey of some three seconds she picked off his velveteen +cap and kissed him accurately in the centre of the forehead.</p> + +<p>"I meant to do it on the top of his head," she informed Myra later, +"but the ghastly child was smothered in bear's-grease. Lord knows that, +as 'twas, I very nearly slipped in my thumb and kissed <i>that</i>, as I've +heard tell that folks do in the witness-box."</p> + +<p>Myra did not understand the allusion; but from the first she divined that +her aunt misliked Master Calvin and found that mislike consolatory.</p> + +<p>"As for these two," the good lady announced, indicating brother and +sister, "I allow to myself they'll be best out of the way till the +funeral. I've been through the clothes-press, and put up their +night-clothes and a few odd items in a hand-bag. 'Siah will be here at +eight-thirty sharp, to take 'em aboard with him. For my part, I reckon to +sleep here to-night and look after things till that fool Susannah comes to +her senses. And as for you, Peter Benny, you'll stay supper, I hope, for +there's supper ready and waiting to be dished—a roast leg of lamb, with +green peas. It puts me in mind of Easter Day," she added inconsequently. +"You may remember, Sam, that your poor father always stickled for a roast +leg of lamb at Easter. He was a good Christian to that extent, I thank +the Lord!"</p> + +<p>"And I thank <i>you</i>, ma'am," protested Mr. Benny, "but I couldn't touch a +morsel—indeed I couldn't, though you offer it so kindly."</p> + +<p>"To my knowledge, you've not eaten enough to-day to keep a mouse alive. +Well, if you won't, you won't; but I've been through the garden, and +there's a dish of strawberries to take home to your wife."</p> + +<br><br> +<p>Mrs. Purchase could not know—good soul—that in removing the two children +to shipboard, to spare them the ugly preparations for the funeral, she was +connecting their grandfather's death in their minds for ever with the most +delightful holiday in life. Yet so it was. Punctually at half-past eight +Mr. Purchase appeared and escorted them on board the <i>Virtuous Lady</i>; and +so, out-tired with their long day, drugged and drowsed by strong salt air +and sunshine and the swift homeward drive, they came at nightfall, and as +knights and princesses come in fairy tales, to the palace of enchantment. +As they drew close, its walls towered up terribly and overhung them, +lightless, forbidding; but far aloft the riding-lamp flamed like a star, +and Myra clapped her hands as she reached the deck and peered down +into a marvellous doll's-house fitted with couches, muslin blinds, +and brass-locked cupboards that twinkled in the lamplight. +There was a stateroom, too, with a half-drawn red curtain in place of a +door, and beyond the curtain a glimpse of two beds, one above the other, +with white sheets turned back and ready for the sleepers—at once like and +deliciously unlike the beds at home. The children, having unpacked their +bag and undressed, knelt down side by side as usual in their white +night-rails. But Myra could not pray, although she repeated the words +with Clem. Her eyes wandered among marvels. The lower bed (assigned to +Clem by reason of his blindness) was not only a bed but a chest of +drawers.</p> +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p class = "noindent"> "Gentle Jesus, meek and mild,<br> + Look upon a little child;<br> + Pity my simplicity."—<br></p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + +<p>Her fingers felt and tried the brass handles. Yes, a real chest of +drawers! And the washstand folded up in a box, and in place of a chair +was a rack with netting in which to lay their garments for the night! +"God bless dear Clem, and grandfather."—What was she saying? +Their grandfather was dead, and praying for dead people was wicked. +Susannah had once caught her praying for her mother, and had told her that +it was wicked, with a decisiveness that closed all argument. None the +less she had prayed for her mother since then—once or twice, perhaps half +a dozen times—though slily and in a terror of being punished tor it and +sent to hell. "And Susannah, and Martha, and Elizabeth Jane,"—this was +the housemaid—"and Peter Benny, and Jim Tregay, and all kind friends and +relations,"—including Uncle Sam and that odious boy of his? Well, they +might go down in the list; but she wouldn't pretend to like them.</p> + +<p>"Ready, my dears?" asked Uncle Purchase from outside. "Sing out when +you're in bed, and I'll come and dowse the lights."</p> + +<p>He did so, and stood for a moment hesitating, scarcely visible in the +faint radiance cast through the doorway by the lamp in his own cabin. +Maybe the proper thing would be to give them a kiss apiece? He could not +be sure, being a childless man. He ended by saying good-night so gruffly +that Myra fancied he must be in a bad temper.</p> + +<p>"Clem!" she whispered, after lying still for a while, staring into +darkness. "Clem!"</p> + +<p>But Clem was already sound asleep.</p> + +<p>She sighed and turned on her pillow. She had wanted to discuss with him a +thought that vexed her. Did folks love one another when they grew up? +And, if so, how did they manage it, seeing that so few grownups had +anything lovable about them? Clem and she, of course, would go on loving +each other always; but that was different. When one grown-up person died, +were the others really sorry? No one seemed sorry for her grandfather—no +one—except, perhaps, Peter Benny….</p> + + +<br><br><p>For two days the children lived an enchanted life, interrupted only by a +visit to Miss de Gruchy, the dressmaker across the water, and by a +miserable two hours in which they were supposed to entertain their Cousin +Calvin, who had been sent to play with them. The boy—he was about a year +older than Myra—greeted them with an air of high importance.</p> + +<p>"I've seen the corp!" he announced in an ogreish whisper.</p> + +<p>Myra had the sense to guess that if she gave any sign of horror he would +only show off the more and tease her. She met him, therefore, on his own +ground.</p> + +<p>"Well, you needn't think <i>we</i> want to, because we don't!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, they'll show it to you before they screw it down. But I saw it +first!"</p> + +<p>For the next forty-eight hours this awful possibility darkened her +delight. For it <i>was</i> a possibility. Grown people did such monstrous +unaccountable things, there was no saying what they might not be up to +next. And here, for once, was an ordeal Clem could not share with her. +He was blind. Alone, if it must be, she must endure it.</p> + +<p>She did not feel safe until the coffin had been actually packed in the +hearse and the long procession started. To her dismay, they had parted +her from Clem. He rode in the first coach beside Aunt Hannah and +<i>vis-a-vis</i> with her Uncle Samuel and Cousin Calvin; she in the second +with Mr. Purchase, Peter Benny, and Mr. Tulse the lawyer, a large-headed, +pallid man, with a strong, clean-shaven face and an air of having attended +so many funerals that he paid this one no particular attention. +His careless gentility obviously impressed Mr. Purchase, who mopped his +forehead at half-minute intervals and as frequently remarked that the day +was hot even for the time of year. Mr. Benny was solicitous to know if +Mr. Tulse preferred the window up or down. Mr. Tulse preferred it down, +and took snuff in such profusion that by and by Myra could not distinguish +the floating particles from the dust which entered from the roadway, +stirred up by the feet of the crowd backing to let the carriages pass. +Myra had never seen, never dreamed of, such a crowd. It lined both sides +of the road almost to the church gate—and from Hall to the church was a +good mile and a half; lines of freemasons with their aprons, lines of +foresters in green sashes, lines of coastguards, of fishermen in blue +jerseys crossed with the black-and-white mourning ribbons of the local +Benevolent Club; here and there groups of staring children, some holding +tightly by their mothers' hands; here and there a belated gig, quartering +to give way or falling back to take up its place in the rear of the line. +The sun beat down on the roof of the coach drawing a powerful odour of +camphor from its cushions. For years after the scent of camphor recalled +all the moving pageant and the figure of Mr. Tulse seated in face of her +and abstractedly taking snuff. But at the time, and until they drew up at +the churchyard gate, she was wondering why the ships in the harbour had +dressed themselves in gay bunting. The flags were all half-masted, of +course; but she had not observed this, nor, if she had, would she have +known the meaning of it.</p> + +<p>In the great family pew she found herself by Clem's side, listening to the +lesson, of which a few words and sentences somehow remained in her memory; +and again, as they trooped out, Clem's hand was in hers. But to the +ceremony she paid little attention. The grave had been dug hard by the +south-east corner of the churchyard, close by a hedge of thorn, on the +farther side of which the ground fell steeply to a narrow coombe. +The bright sun, sinking behind the battlements of the church tower, +flung their shadow so that a part cut across the parson's dazzling +surplice, while a part fell and continued the pattern on the hillside +across the valley. And while the parson recited high over the tower a +lark sang.</p> + +<p>Someone asked her if she wished to look down on the coffin in its bed. +She shrank away, fearing for the moment that the trick of which she had +stood in dread for two days was to be played on her now at the last.</p> + +<p>But the mysterious doings of her elders were not yet at an end, for no +sooner had they reached home again than she and Clem were hustled into the +parlour, to find Mr. Tulse seated at the head of the long table with a +paper in his hand, and Mr. Samuel in a chair by the empty fireplace with +Cousin Calvin beside him. Aunt Hannah disposed herself between the two +children with her back to a window, and Uncle Purchase, having closed the +door with extraordinary caution, dropped upon the edge of a chair and sat +as if ready to jump up at call and expel any intruder.</p> + +<p>Mr. Tulse glanced around with that quiet, well-bred air of his which +seemed to take everything for granted. Having satisfied himself that all +were assembled, he cleared his throat and began to read. His manner and +intonation suggested family prayers; and Myra, not doubting that this must +be some kind of postscript to the burial service for the private +consolation of the family, let her mind wander. The word 'testament' in +the first sentence seemed to make this certain, and the sentence or two +that followed had a polysyllabic vagueness which by habit she connected +with the offices of religion. The strained look on Aunt Hannah's face +drew her attention away from Mr. Tulse and his recital. Her ear had been +caught, too, by a low whining sound in the next room. By and by she heard +him speak her own name—hers and Clem's together—and glanced around +nervously. She had a particular dislike of being prayed for by name. +It made her blush and gave her a curious sinking sensation in the pit of +the stomach. Her eyes, as it happened, came to rest on her Uncle +Samuel's, who withdrew his gaze at once and stared into the fireplace.</p> + +<p>A moment later Mr. Tulse brought his reading to an end. There was a +pause, broken by someone's pushing hack a chair. She gazed around +inquiringly, thinking that this perhaps might be a signal for all to +kneel.</p> + +<p>Her aunt had risen, and stood for a moment with twitching face, +challenging a look from Mr. Samuel, who continued to stare at the shavings +in the fireplace.</p> + +<p>Whatever Mrs. Purchase had on her lips to say to him, she controlled +herself. But she turned upon Myra and Clem, and her eyes filled.</p> + +<p>"My poor dears!" she said, stretching out both hands. "My poor, poor +dears!"</p> + +<p>Myra thought it passing strange that, if she and Clem were to be pitied +for losing their grandfather, Aunt Hannah should have waited till now. +She paid, however, little heed to this, but ran past her aunt's +outstretched arms to the door of the counting-house. Within, on the rug +beside the empty chair, weak with voluntary starvation, lay stretched the +little greyhound, and whined for her master.</p> + + +<br><br><br> +<h2>BOOK II.</h2> + + +<br><br> +<p><a name = "8"></a> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER VIII.</h3> + +<h4>HESTER ARRIVES.</h4> + +<p>Hester Marvin stood on the windy platform gazing after the train. +Her limbs were cramped and stiff after the long night journey; the grey +morning hour discouraged her; and the landscape—a stretch of grey-green +marsh with a horizon-line of slate-roofed cottages terminated by a single +factory chimney—was not one to raise the spirits. Even the breeze +blowing across the marsh had an unfamiliar edge. She felt it, and +shivered.</p> + +<p>She had been the only passenger to alight here from the train, which had +brought her almost all the way from the Midlands; and as it steamed off, +its smoke blown level along the carriage roofs, her gaze followed it +wistfully, almost forlornly, with a sense of lost companionship. +She knew this to be absurd, and yet she felt it.</p> + +<p>Between the chimney and this ridge the train passed out of sight; but +still her gaze followed the long curve of the metals across the marsh. +They stretched away, and with them the country seemed to expand and +flatten itself, yielding to the sky an altogether disproportionate share +of the prospect—at any rate in eyes accustomed to the close elms and +crooked hedgerows of Warwickshire.</p> + +<p>She withdrew her gaze at last, and glancing up the long platform spied her +solitary trunk, as absurdly forlorn as herself. A tall man—the +stationmaster—bent over it, examining the label, and she walked towards +him, glancing up as she passed the station clock.</p> + +<p>"No use your looking at <i>him</i>," said the station-master, straightening +himself up in time to observe the glance. "He never kept time yet, and +don't mean to begin. Breaks my heart, he do."</p> + +<p>"How far is it from here to Troy?"</p> + +<p>"Three miles and a half, we reckon it; but you may call it four, counting +the hills."</p> + +<p>"Oh, there are hills, are there?" said Hester, and looking around she +blushed; for indeed the country was hilly on three sides of her and flat +only in the direction whither she had been staring after the train.</p> + +<p>The stationmaster did not observe her confusion. "Were you expecting +anyone to meet you, miss?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes, from Troy. A Mr. Benny—Mr. Peter Benny." She felt for the letter +in her pocket.</p> + +<p>The stationmaster's smile broadened. "Peter Benny? To be sure—a +punctual man, too, but with a terrible long family. And when a man has a +long family, and leaves these little things to 'em—But someone will be +here, miss, sooner or later. And this will be your luggage?"</p> + +<p>"Three miles and a half, you say?—or four at the most?" Hester stood +considering, while her eyes wandered across to a siding beyond the +up-platform, where three men stood in talk before a goods van. +Two of them were porters; the third—a young fellow in blue jersey, blue +cloth trousers, and a peaked cap—was apparently persuading them to open +the van, which they no sooner did than he leapt inside. Hester heard him +calling from within the van and the two porters laughing. "Four miles?" +She turned to the station-master again. "I can walk that easily. +You have a cloak-room, I suppose, where I can leave my trunk?"</p> + +<p>"I'll take it home with me, miss, for safety: that is, if you're really +bent on walking." He jerked his thumb toward a cottage on the slope +behind. "No favour at all. I'm just going back to breakfast, and it +won't take me a minute to fetch out a barrow and run it home. +Whoever comes for your luggage will know where to call. You'd best give +me your handbag too."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, but I can carry that easily."</p> + +<p>"The Bennys always turn up sooner or later," he went on musingly. +"If they miss one train, they catch the next. Really, miss, there's no +occasion to walk. But if you must, and I may make so bold, why not step +over to my house and have a cup of tea before starting? The kettle's on +the boil, and my wife would make you welcome. We've a refreshment-room +here in the station," he added apologetically, "but it don't open till the +nine-twenty-seven."</p> + +<p>Hester thanked him again, but would not accept the invitation. He fetched +the barrow for her trunk, and walked some little distance with her, +wheeling it. Where their ways parted he gave her the minutest directions, +and stood in the middle of the roadway to watch her safely past her first +turning.</p> + +<p>The aspect of the land was strange to her yet, but the stationmaster's +kindness had made it less unhomely. The road ran under the base of a hill +to her left, between it and the marsh. It rose a little before reaching +the line of slate-roofed cottages; and as she mounted this rise the wind +met her more strongly, and with more of that tonic sharpness she had +shrunk from a while ago. It was shrewd, yet she felt that it was also +wholesome. Above the cottage roofs she now perceived many masts of +vessels clustered near the base of the tall chimney. She bent her head +against the breeze. When she raised it again after a short stiff climb, +she looked—and for the first time in her life—upon the open sea.</p> + +<p>It stretched—another straight line—beyond the cottage roofs, in colour a +pale, unvaried grey-blue; and her first sensation was wonder at its bare +simplicity. She rested her bag upon the low hedge, and stood beside it at +gaze, her body bent forward to meet the wind.</p> + +<p>For five minutes and more she stood there, so completely absorbed that the +sound of footsteps on the road drew near and passed her unheard. +A few paces beyond they came to a halt.</p> + +<p>"Begging your pardon, miss, but that bag is heavy for you," said a voice.</p> + +<p>She turned with a start, and, as she did so, was aware of a scent about +her, not strong, but deliciously clean and fragrant. It came from a tuft +of wild thyme on which her palm had been pressing while she leaned.</p> + +<p>"Thank you, it is not heavy," she answered, in some confusion. +"I—I just rested it here while I looked out to sea."</p> + +<p>She knew him at once for the blue-jerseyed young man she had seen in talk +with the porters; and apparently he had prevailed, for he stooped under +the weight of a great burden, in which Hester recognised a blackboard, an +easel, a coloured globe, and sundry articles of school furniture very +cleverly lashed together and slung across his shoulder by a stout cord. +He was smiling, and she smiled too, moved perhaps by the sight of these +familiar objects in a strange land.</p> + +<p>"If you'm bound for Troy, you may so well let me carry it, miss. +There's a terrible steep hill to go up, and a pound or two's weight won't +make no difference to what I got here."</p> + +<p>She had taken up her bag resolutely and was moving on. The young man—it +was most awkward—also moved on, and in step with her. She compressed +her lip, wondering how to hint that she did not desire his company. +A glance told her that he was entirely without guile, that he had made his +offer in mere good-nature. How might she dismiss him and yet avoid +hurting his feelings?</p> + +<p>"They argued me down at the station," he went on. "Would have it the +traps couldn' possibly be in the van. But I wasn't going to have my walk +for nothing if I could help it. 'Give me leave to look,' said I; and I +was right, you see!"</p> + +<p>He nodded his head as triumphantly as his burden allowed. It weighed him +down, and the stoop gave his eyes, when he smiled, an innocent roguish +slant. Hester noted that he wore rings in his brown ears, and somehow +these ornaments made him appear the more boyish.</p> + +<p>"But what are you doing with a blackboard and easel?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"They're for old Mother Butson. She lives with my mother and keeps +school. Tidy little outlay for her, all this parcel! but she must move +with the times, poor soul."</p> + +<p>"Then hers is not a Board School?—since she is buying these things for +herself."</p> + +<p>"Board School? Not a bit of it. You're right there, miss: we're the +Opposition." He laughed, showing two rows of white regular teeth.</p> + +<p>"Are you a teacher too?"</p> + +<p>She had no sooner asked the question than she knew it to be ridiculous. +A teacher, in blue jersey and earrings! He laughed, more merrily than +ever.</p> + +<p>"Me, miss? My name's Trevarthen—Tom Trevarthen: and I'm a seaman; +ordinary till last voyage, but now A.B." He said this with pride: of what +it meant she had not the ghost of a notion. "A man don't need scholarship +in my way o' life; but, being on shore for a spell, you see, miss, +I'm helping the old gal to fight the School Board. 'Tis hard on her, +too."</p> + +<p>"What is hard?" Hester asked, her professional interest aroused.</p> + +<p>"Why, to have the bread taken out of her mouth at her time of life. +She sent in an application, but the Board wouldn't look at it. +Old Rosewarne, they say, had another teacher in his eye, and got her +appointed—some up-country body. Ne'er a man on the Board had the pluck +to say 'Bo' when <i>he</i> opened his mouth."</p> + +<p>"Rosewarne?" Hester came to a halt.</p> + +<p>"That bag is too heavy for you, miss. Hand it over—do'ee now!"</p> + +<p>"Are you talking of Mr. John Rosewarne?"</p> + +<p>"Ay, Rosewarne of Hall—he did it. If you was a friend of his, miss, I +beg your pardon; but a raspin' old tyrant he was. Sing small, you might +be let off and call yourself lucky; stand up to 'en, and he'd have you +down and your face in the dust if it cost a fortune."</p> + +<p>"Wait a moment, please!" Hester commanded, halting for breath. They had +reached a steep hill, and the tall hedgerows shut out the sea; but its far +roar sounded in her ears. She nodded toward the bundle on his shoulders. +"Are those things meant to fight the new schoolmistress?"</p> + +<p>"That's of it. The old woman has pluck enough for a hunderd. But, as I +tell her, she may get the billet now, after all, since the old fellow's +gone, and Mr. Sam—they do say—favours the Dissenters."</p> + +<p>"I don't understand. 'Gone'? Who is gone?"</p> + +<p>"Why, old Rosewarne. Who else?"</p> + +<p>"You are not telling me that Mr. Rosewarne is dead?"</p> + +<p>"Beggin' your pardon, miss—but he's dead, and buried last Saturday. +There! I han't upset you, have I? I took it for certain that everyone +knew. And you seeming an acquaintance of his, and being, so to speak, in +black."—</p> + +<p>"But I heard from him only last Thursday—less than a week ago!" +Hester's hand went to her pocket. To be sure she possessed, with +Rosewarne's letter, a second from a Mr. Peter Benny, acknowledging her +acceptance of the post, and promising that she should be met on her +arrival, on the day and hour suggested by her. But Mr. Benny's letter had +been cautiously worded, and said nothing of his master's death.</p> + +<p>The young sailor had come to a halt with her, evidently puzzled, and for +the fourth time at least was holding out a hand to relieve her of her bag.</p> + +<p>"No!" she said. "You must walk on, please; I am the new schoolmistress."</p> + +<p>It took him aback, but not in the way she had expected. His face became +grave at once, but still wore its puzzled look, into which by degrees +there crept another look of pity.</p> + +<p>"You can't know what you'm doing then, miss; I'm sure of that. +They haven't told you. She's a very old woman, and 'tis all the bread she +has."</p> + +<p>He stared at her, seeking reassurance.</p> + +<p>"You are certainly right, so far: I have tumbled, it seems, into +mysteries. But for aught I know, I <i>am</i> the new schoolmistress, and we +are enemies, it seems. Now will you walk ahead, or shall I?"</p> + +<p>Still he paused, considering her face.</p> + +<p>"But if you knew what a shame it is!" he stammered. "And you look good, +too!"</p> + +<p>With a movement of the hand she begged him to leave her and walk ahead. +But as she did so she caught sound of hoofs and wheels on the road above. +They drew apart to let the vehicle pass, she to one side of the road, the +young sailor to the other. A light spring-cart came lurching round the +corner; and its driver, glancing from one to the other, drew rein sharply, +dragging the rough-coated cob back with a slither on the splashboard, and +bringing him to a stand between them.</p> + + +<br><br> +<p><a name = "9"></a> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER IX.</h3> + +<h4>MR. SAMUEL'S POLICY.</h4> + +<p>Hester's letter accepting the teachership had put Mr. Sam in something of +a quandary. It came addressed, of course, to his father, and as his +father's heir and executor he had opened it.</p> + +<p>"'Hester Marvin'?" He read the signature and pondered, pulling his ragged +whisker. "So that was the name on the letter you posted?" (No question +had been asked about it at the inquest.)</p> + +<p>"That was the name, sir," said Mr. Benny.</p> + +<p>"Who is she? How did my father come to select her?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Benny had not a notion.</p> + +<p>"By her tone, they must have been pretty well acquainted," continued Mr. +Sam, still pondering. "She signs herself 'Yours very truly,' and hopes he +has been feeling better since his return. You know absolutely nothing +about her?"</p> + +<p>"Absolutely nothing, sir."</p> + +<p>"I wish,"—Mr. Sam began, but checked himself. What he really wished was +that Mr. Benny had used less haste in posting the letter—had intercepted +it, in short. But he did not like to say this aloud. "I wish," he went +on, "I knew exactly what the old man wrote; how far it committed us, +I mean." And by 'us' again, he meant the Board of Managers, upon which he +had no doubt of being elected to replace his father.</p> + +<p>"You may be sure, sir," answered Mr. Benny, "that he made her a definite +offer. My dear master was never one to make two bites of a cherry."</p> + +<p>"Well, we must let her come, and find out, if we can, how far we're +committed. Better write at once and fix a date—say next Thursday. +You needn't say anything about my father's death. Just make it a formal +letter, and sign your own name; you may add 'Clerk of the School Board.'"</p> + +<p>"Can I rightly do that, sir?" Mr. Benny hesitated.</p> + +<p>"Why not? You <i>are</i> the clerk, aren't you? As clerk, you answer her +simply in the way of business. There's no need to call a meeting of the +Board over such a trifle; though, if you wish, I'll explain it personally +to the Managers. We may have a dozen cases like this before we get into +working order—small odds and ends which require, nevertheless, to be +dealt with promptly. We must do what's best, and risk small +irregularities."</p> + +<p>Mr. Benny, not quite convinced, fell to composing his letter. +Mr. Sam leaned back in his chair and mused, tapping his long teeth with a +paper-knife. He wondered what kind of a woman this Hester Marvin might +be, and of what religious 'persuasion.' In a week or two he would succeed +to his father's place on the Board. There would be no opposition, and it +seemed to him natural and right that there should be none. Was he not by +far the richest man in the parish? Samuel Rosewarne studied his Bible +devoutly; but he did not seek it for anything which might stand in the way +of his own will or his private advantage. When he came upon a text +condemning riches, for instance, or definitely bidding him to forgive a +debtor, he told himself that Christ was speaking figuratively, or was, at +any rate, not to be taken literally, and with that he passed on to +something more comfortable. He did not, of course, really believe this, +but he had to tell himself so; for otherwise he would have to alter his +whole way of life, or confess himself an irreligious man. But he was, on +the contrary, a highly religious man, and he had no disposition to alter +his life.</p> + +<p>He hated the Church of England, too, because he perceived it to be full of +abuses; and he supposed that the best way to counteract these abuses was +to put a spoke in the Church's wheel wherever and whenever he could. +In this he but copied the adversary—Parson Endicott, for example—who +hated Dissent, perceiving that it rested on self-assertiveness, +encouraging unlearned men to be opinionative in error. Perceiving this, +Parson Endicott supposed himself to be combating error by snatching at +every advantage, great or small, which exalted the supremacy of his Church +and left Dissent the worse in any bargain. To neither of these men, both +confident in their 'cause,' did it occur for a moment to leave that cause +to the energy of its own truth.</p> + +<p>The parson, however, was not likely to bring forward an opposition +candidate; for that would conflict with a second principle of conduct, +the principle of siding with the rich on all possible occasions. +By doing this in his small way he furthered at once the cause of stable +government—that is to say, the rule of the poor by the wealthy—and the +cause of his own Church, which (he fully believed) in these times depends +for existence upon mendicancy. Therefore Mr. Samuel would certainly be +elected; and counting on this, he felt sorry to have missed the chance of +giving the teachership, by his casting vote, to one of his own sect—some +broad-minded, undenominational person who would teach the little ones to +abhor all that savoured of popery. To be sure, this Hester Marvin might +be such a person. On the other hand, his father had been capable of +choosing some Jew, Turk, infidel, or heretic, or even papist. It remained +to discover, first, what kind of woman this Hester Marvin might be; and +next, whether or not the terms of her engagement amounted to a contract.</p> + +<p>"By the way," said Mr. Sam, as Mr. Benny sat pursing his lips over the +letter, "you take in a lodger now and then, I believe?"</p> + +<p>"Now and then," Mr. Benny assented, looking up and biting the end of his +quill. He did not understand the drift of the question. "Now and then, +sir," he repeated; "when my wife's health allows."</p> + +<p>"Then add a line, telling her she shall be met at the station, and that +you will put her up."</p> + +<p>"But, Mr. Samuel, I could scarcely bring myself to offer."—</p> + +<p>"Tut, man; you don't ask her to pay. I'll see to that. Merely say that +you hope she will be your guest until she finds suitable lodgings."</p> + +<p>"That is very kind of you, sir."</p> + +<p>"Not at all." He reached out a hand for Mr. Benny's letter, read it +through, and nodded. "Yes, that will do; seal it up and let it go by next +post. My father had great confidence in you, Benny."</p> + +<p>"He ever did me that great honour, sir."</p> + +<p>"I hope we shall get on together equally well. I daresay we shall."</p> + +<p>"It comforts me to hear you say so, sir. When a man gets up in years— +with a long family depending on him."—</p> + +<p>"Of course, if this Miss Marvin should happen to give you further +particulars of my father's offer, so much the better," said Mr. Sam +negligently.</p> + +<br><br> +<p>As the little man went down the hill toward the ferry he was pounced upon +by Mother Butson, who regularly now watched for him and waylaid him on his +way home.</p> + +<p>"Hold hard, Peter Benny—it's no use your trying to slip by now!"</p> + +<p>"I wasn't, Mrs. Butson; indeed, now, I wasn't!" he protested; though +indeed this waylaying had become a torment to him.</p> + +<p>"Well, and what have they decided?" The poor old soul asked it fiercely, +yet trembled while waiting for his answer, almost hoping that he would +have none.</p> + +<p>Mr. Benny longed to say that nothing was decided; but the letter in his +pocket seemed to be burning against his ribs. He was a truthful man.</p> + +<p>"It don't lie with me, Mrs. Butson; I'm only the clerk, and take my +orders. But I must warn you not to be too hopeful. The person that Mr. +Rosewarne selected will come down and be interviewed. That's only right +and proper."</p> + +<p>All the village knew by this time what had happened at the last Board +meeting.</p> + +<p>"Coming, is she? Then 'tis true what I've heard, that the old varmint +went straight from the meetin' and wrote off to the woman, and that the +hand of God struck 'en dead in his chair. Say what you will,"—the cracked +voice shrilled up triumphantly—"'tis a judgment! What's the woman's +name?"</p> + +<p>"That I'm not allowed to tell you. And look here, Mrs. Butson—you +mustn't use such talk of my poor dead master; indeed you mustn't." +He looked past her appealingly and at Mrs. Trevarthen, who had come to her +doorway to listen.</p> + +<p>"I said what I chose to 'en while he was alive, and I'll say what I choose +now. You was always a poor span'el, Peter Benny; but John Rosewarne never +fo'ced <i>me</i> to lick his boots. 'Poor dead master!'" she mimicked. +"Iss fay!—dead enough now, and poor, he that ground the poor!" +At once she began to fawn. "But Mr. Sam'll see justice done. +You'll speak a word for me to Mr. Sam? He's a professin' Christian, and +like as not when this woman shows herself she'll turn out to be some +red-hot atheist or Jesuit. To bring the like o' they here was just the +dirty trick that old heathen of yours would enjoy. Some blasphemy it must +ha' been, or the hand o' God'd never have struck 'en as it did."</p> + +<p>"Folks are saying," put in Mrs. Trevarthen from the doorway, "that Sall +here ill-wished 'en. But she didn't. 'Twas his own sins compassed his +end. Look to your ways, Peter Benny! Your master was an unbeliever and +an oppressor, and now he's in hell-fire."</p> + +<p>Mr. Benny put his hands to his ears and ran from these terrible women. +For the moment they had both believed what they said, and yet old +Rosewarne's belief or unbelief had nothing to do with their hatred. +They gloated because he had been removed in the act of doing that which +would certainly impoverish them. They, neither less nor more than Mr. Sam +and Parson Endicott, made identical the will of God with their own wants.</p> + +<p>Peter Benny as he crossed the ferry would have been uneasier and unhappier +had he understood Mr. Sam's parting words. He had not understood them +because he had never laid a scheme against man, woman, or child in his +life. Still he was uneasy and unhappy enough: first, because it hurt him +that anyone should speak as these old women had spoken of his dead master; +next, because he really felt sorry for them, and was carrying a letter to +their hurt; again because, in spite of Mr. Sam's reassuring words, he +could not shake off a sense of having exceeded his duties by signing that +letter without consulting the Board; and lastly, because in his confusion +he had forgotten his wife's state of health, and must break to the poor +woman, just arisen from bed and nursing a three-weeks'-old baby, that he +had invited a lodger. Now that he came to think of it, there was not a +spare bedroom in the house!</p> + + +<br><br> +<p><a name = "10"></a> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER X.</h3> +<h4>NUNCEY.</h4> + +<p>The driver of the spring-cart was a brown-skinned, bright-eyed, +and exceedingly pretty damsel of eighteen or twenty, in a pink print +frock with a large crimson rose pinned in its bodice, and a pink +sun-bonnet, under the pent of which her dark hair curtained her +temples in two ample rippling bands.</p> + +<p>"Why, hullo!" She reined up. Hester and the young sailor had fallen +apart to let her pass, and from her perch she stared down from one +side of the road to the other with a puzzled, jolly smile. +"Mornin', Tom!"</p> + +<p>"Mornin', Nuncey!"</p> + +<p>"Sakes alive! What be carryin' there 'pon your back?"</p> + +<p>"School furnitcher."</p> + +<p>The girl's eyes wandered from the bundle to Hester, and grew wide +with surmise.</p> + +<p>"You don't mean to tell me you're the new schoolmistress!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I'm Hester Marvin."</p> + +<p>"And I pictered 'ee a frump! But, my dear soul," she asked with +sudden solemnity, "what makes 'ee do it?"</p> + +<p>"Do what?"</p> + +<p>"Why, teach school? I al'ays reckoned that a trade for old persons— +toteling poor bodies, 'most past any use except to worrit the +children."</p> + +<p>"And so 'tis," put in the young sailor angrily.</p> + +<p>"Han't been crossed in love, have 'ee? But there! what be I clackin' +about, when better fit I was askin' your pardon for bein' so late? +I'm sent to fetch you over to Troy. Ought to have been here more'n a +half-hour ago; but when you've five children to wash an' dress an' get +breakfast for an' see their boots is shined, and after that to catch the +hoss and put'n to cart—well, you'll have to forgive it. That's your +luggage Tom's carryin', I s'pose?—and a funny passel of traps school +teachers travel with, I will say. You must be clever, though; else +you couldn't have coaxed Tom Trevarthen to shoulder such a load. +He wouldn't lift his little finger for <i>me</i>." She shot this +unrighteous shaft with a mischievous side-glance, and laughed. +She had beautiful teeth, and laughing became her mightily.</p> + +<p>"But that is not my luggage."</p> + +<p>"Not your luggage! Then where—Hullo! have you two been quarrellin'? +Well, I never! You can't have lost much time about it."</p> + +<p>"I left my trunk at the station," Hester went on, flushing yet redder +with annoyance.</p> + +<p>"And this here belongs to Mother Butson," declared Tom Trevarthen, +red also. "I'm fetchin' it home for her."</p> + +<p>"Then take and pitch it into the tail of the trap; and you, my dear, +hand up your bag and climb up alongside o' me. We'll drive back to +station, fetch your trunk, and be back in time to overtake Tom at the +top o' the hill and give him a lift home. There's plenty room for +three on the seat—that is, by squeezin' a bit."</p> + +<p>"You're very kind, Nuncey," said Tom Trevarthen sullenly. "But I'll +not take a lift alongside o' <i>she</i>; and I'll not trouble you with my +load, neither."</p> + +<p>"Please yourself, you foolish mortal, you. But—I declare! You +<i>must</i> have had a tiff!"</p> + +<p>"No tiff at all," corrected Tom, sturdily wrathful. "It's despise +her I do—comin' here and drivin' an old 'ooman to the workhouse!"</p> + +<p>He turned on his heel and trudged away stubbornly up the hill.</p> + +<p>Nuncey gazed back at him for a moment over her shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Never saw Tom in such a tear in all my life," she commented +cheerfully. "Take 'en all the week round, you couldn't find a +better-natered boy. Well, jump up, my dear, and we'll fit and get +your trunk. He may be cured of his sulks by time we overtake 'en."</p> + +<p>Undoubtedly Hester had excuses enough for feeling hurt and annoyed; +yet what mainly hurt and annoyed her (though she would not confess +it) was that this sailor and this girl had each taken her as one on +equal terms with themselves. She was a sensible girl, by far too +sensible to nurse on second thoughts a conceit that she was their +superior simply because she spoke better English. Yet habit had +taught her to expect some degree of deference from those who spoke +incorrectly; and we are all touchier upon our vaguely reasoned claims +than upon those of which we have perfect assurance.</p> + +<p>"J'p, Pleasant!" Nuncey called to the grey horse, flicking him +lightly with the whip. The ill-balanced trap seesawed down the +slope, and soon was spinning along the cliff-road, across which the +wind blew with such force that Hester caught at her hat.</p> + +<p>"Never mind a bit of breeze, my dear. And as for the touch of damp, +'tis nobbut the pride o' the mornin'. All for heat and pilchar's, as +the saying is: we shall have it broiling hot afore noon. Now I come +to think of it, 'tis high time we made our introductions. I'm Nuncey +Benny—that's short for Annunciation. This here hoss and trap belongs +to my mother. She's a regrater when in health; but there's a baby +come. That makes eleven of us. You'll find us a houseful."</p> + +<p>"Your father was kind enough to offer me,"—began Hester.</p> + +<p>"Iss," broke in Nuncey; "father's kind, whatever else he may be. As +for considerin' where to stow you, that never crossed his head. You +mustn't think, my dear, that you bain't welcome. Only—well, I may +so well get it over soon as late—you'll have to put up with a bed in +the room with me. Shall you mind?"</p> + +<p>"Of course I shall not mind," said Hester, conquered at once.</p> + +<p>"Well, that's uncommon nice of you; and I don't mind tellin' 'ee 'tis +the second load you've a-lifted off my mind. For, to start with, I +made sure you was goin' to be a frump."</p> + +<p>"But why?"</p> + +<p>Nuncey had no time to explain, for they were now arrived at the +stationmaster's cottage. The station-master himself welcomed them at +the door, wiping his mouth.</p> + +<p>"You'll step in and have a dish of tea, the both of you. It'll take +off the edge of the mornin'."</p> + +<p>Nuncey declined, after a glance at Hester, and at once fell to +discussing the weather with the station-master while he hoisted in +the trunk. Two of Hester's earliest discoveries in this strange land +were that everyone talked about the weather, and everyone addressed +everyone else as 'My dear.'</p> + +<p>"Well, so long!" said the stationmaster. "Wind's going round wi' the +sun, I see, same as yesterday. We're in for a hot spell, you mark my +words."</p> + +<p>"So long!" Nuncey shook the reins, and they started again. "Is that +how sleeves are wearin', up the country?" she asked, after two or +three glances at Hester's jacket.</p> + +<p>"They are worn fuller than this, mostly," Hester answered gravely. +"But you mustn't take me for an authority."</p> + +<p>"I can see so far into a brick wall as most. Don't tell me! You're +one to think twice about your clothes, for all you look so modest. +Boots like yours cost more than I can spend on mine in a month o' +Sundays; iss, and a trifle o' vanity thrown in. You've a very pretty +foot—an' I like your face—an' your way o' dressin', if you weren't +so sad-coloured. What's that for, makin' so bold?"</p> + +<p>"It's for my father."</p> + +<p>"There now, I'm sorry!—Always was a clumsy fool, and always will be. +I thought it might be for old Rosewarne, you bein' hand-in-glove with +him."</p> + +<p>"But I scarcely knew him. It was only just now I heard the news."— +Hester broke off, colouring again with annoyance. What did these +people mean, that they persisted in taking for granted her complicity +in some mysterious plot?</p> + +<p>By and by, at the top of the hill, they overtook the young sailor.</p> + +<p>"Got over your sulks, Tom?" inquired Nuncey cheerfully. "If so, +climb up and be sociable—there's plenty room."</p> + +<p>But Tom shook his head without answering, though he drew close to the +hedge to let the trap pass. It is difficult to look dignified with a +blackboard, an easel, and a coloured globe on one's back. The globe +absurdly reminded Hester of a picture of Atlas in one of her +schoolbooks, and she could not help a smile. A moment later she +would have given all her pocket-money to recall that smile, for he +had glanced up, glowering, and observed it.</p> + +<p>Nuncey laughed outright.</p> + +<p>"But all the same," she remarked meditatively as they drove on, +"I like the lad for't. 'Tisn' everyone would do so much for the sake +of an old 'ooman that never has a good word to fling at nobody, and +maybe spanked 'en blue when he was a tacker and went to school wi' +her. He's terrible simple; and decent, too, for a sailor. I reckon +there's a many think Mother Butson hardly used that wouldn't crack their +backs for her as he's a-doing."</p> + +<p>"He spoke to me," said Hester, "quite as if I were doing a wickedness +in coming—as if, at least, I were selfish and unjust. And I never +heard of this Mother Butson till half an hour ago! Do <i>you</i> think +I'm unjust?"</p> + +<p>"Well," Nuncey answered judiciously, "if any person had asked me that +an hour ago, I'd have agreed with Tom. But 'tis different now I've +seen your face."</p> + +<br><br> +<p>Nuncey and the stationmaster were wise weather prophets. Here on the +uplands the grey veil of morning fell apart, and dissolved so +suddenly that before Hester had time to wonder the miracle was +accomplished. A flood of sunshine broke over the ripening cornfields +to right and left; the song of larks rang forth almost with a shout; +beyond the golden ridges of the wheat the grey vapour faded as breath +off a mirror, and lo! a clear line divided the turquoise sky from a +sea of intensest iris-blue. As she watched the transformation her +heart gave a lift, and the past few hours fell from her like an evil +dream. The stuffy compartment, the blear-eyed lamp, the train's roar +and rattle, the forlorn arrival on the windy platform—all slipped away +into a remote past. She had passed the gates of fear and entered an +enchanted land.</p> + +<p>As she looked abroad upon it she marvelled at a hundred differences +between it and her native Midlands. It was wilder—infinitely +wilder—than Warwickshire, and at the same time less unkempt; far +more savage in outline, yet in detail sober almost to tidiness. It +seemed to acknowledge the hand of some great unknown gardener; and +this gardener was, of course, the sea-breeze now filling her lungs +and bracing her strength. The shaven, landward-bending thorns and +hollies, the close-trimmed hedgerow, the clean-swept highroad, alike +proclaimed its tireless attentions. It favoured its own plants, +too—the tamarisk on the hedge, the fuchsia and myrtle in the cottage +garden. As the spring-cart nid-nodded down the hill towards Troy, +the grey roofs of the town broke upon Hester's sight beyond a cloud +of fuchsia blossoms in a garden at the angle of the road.</p> + +<p>So steep was the hill, and so closely these roofs and chimneys +huddled against it, that Hester leaned back with a catch of the +breath that set Nuncey laughing. For the moment she verily supposed +herself on the edge of a precipice. She caught one glimpse of a blue +water and the masts of shipping, and clutched at the cart-rail as the +old grey began to slither at a businesslike jog-trot down a street so +narrow that, to make way for them, passers-by on foot ran hastily to +the nearest doorways, whence one and all nodded good-naturedly at +Nuncey. Of some houses the doors were reached by steep flights of +steps tunnelled through the solid rock; of others by wooden stairways +leading to balconies painted blue or green and adorned with +pot-plants—geraniums, fuchsias, lemon-verbenas—on ledges imminent over +Hester's head. The most of the passers-by were women carrying pails +of water, or country folks with baskets of market stuff. The whole +street seemed to be cleaning up and taking in provisions for the day, +and all amid a buzz of public gossip, one housewife pausing on her +balcony as she shook a duster, and leaning over to discuss market +prices with her neighbour chaffering below. The cross-fire of talk +died down as the dealers dispersed, snatching up their wares from +under the wheels of the spring-cart, while the women took long, +silent stock of Hester's appearance and dress. Behind her it broke +forth again, louder than ever.</p> + +<p>At the foot of the hill they swung round a corner, and passing a +public-house and the rails of the parish church, threaded their way +round two more corners, and entered a street scarcely less narrow +than the other, but level. Here Nuncey drew up before an ope through +which Hester caught another glimpse of blue-green water. They had +arrived.</p> + +<p>A grinning lad lifted out Hester's trunk and bore it down the ope to +a green-painted doorway, where a rosy-faced, extremely solemn child +stared out on the world over a green-painted board, fixed across with +the evident purpose of confining him to the house. Having despatched +this urchin to warn his mother that 'the furriner was come,' the lad +heaved his burden over the board, dumped it down inside with a bang, +and returned, still grinning amiably, to take charge of horse and +cart.</p> + +<p>"If you want to know t'other from which in our family," said Nuncey, +"there's nothing like beginning early. This is Shake."</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon?"</p> + +<p>"Father had him christened Shakespeare, but we call him Shake for +short. It sounds more natural, somehow. And this here is Robert +Burns," she went on, leading the way to the green-painted doorway +where the small urchin had resumed his survey of the world beyond +home. "That's another of father's inventions; but the poor cheeld +pulled down the kettle when he was eighteen months old and scalded +hisself all over, so he's gone by his full name ever since. Mother!" +Nuncey called aloud, stepping over the barrier. "Here's the new +school-teacher!"</p> + +<p>A middle-aged, fair-haired woman, with a benign but puzzled smile, +appeared in the passage, holding a baby at the breast.</p> + +<p>"You're kindly welcome, my dear; that is, if you'll excuse my hair +being in curl-papers. Dear me, now!" Mrs. Benny regarded Hester with +a look of honest perplexity. "And I was expectin' an older-lookin' +person altogether!"</p> + +<p>Hester followed her into a kitchen which, though untidy and dim, +struck her as more than passably clean; and it crossed her mind at +once that its cleanliness must be due to Nuncey and its untidiness to +Mrs. Benny. The dimness was induced by a crowd of geraniums in the +window and a large bird-cage blocking out the light above them. +A second large bird-cage hung from a rafter in the middle of the +ceiling.</p> + +<p>"And you've been travellin' all night? You must be pinin' for a dish +of tea."—</p> + +<p>But here a voice screamed out close to Hester's ear—</p> + +<p>"What's your name? What's your name? Oh, rock and roll me over, +what's your darned name?"</p> + +<p>"Hester Marv—" she had begun to answer in a fright, when Nuncey +broke out laughing.</p> + +<p>"Don't 'ee be afraid of 'en—'tis only the parrot;" and Hester +laughed too, recovering herself at sight of a grey and scarlet bird +eyeing her with angry inquisitiveness from the cage over Mrs. Benny's +head. Her gaze wandered apprehensively to the second cage by the +window.</p> + +<p>"Oh, <i>he</i> won't speak!" Nuncey assured her. "He's only a cat."</p> + +<p>"A cat?"</p> + +<p>"Iss. He ate the last parrot afore this one, and I reckon he died of +it. Father had 'en stuffed and put 'en in the cage instead. Just go +and look for yourself; he's as natural as life."</p> + +<p>"I was thinkin' a ham rasher," suggested Mrs. Benny, with her kindly, +unsettled smile. "Nuncey, will you hold the baby, or shall I?"</p> + +<p>"You give me the frying-pan," commanded Nuncey, turning up her +sleeves. "What's the matter with <i>you</i>, Robert Burns? And what's +become of your manners?" she demanded of the urchin who had followed +them in from the passage, and now stood gripping Hester's skirts and +gazing up at her, as she in turn gazed up at the absurd cat in the +parrot's cage.</p> + +<p>"What great eyes she've got!" exclaimed Robert Burns in an +awe-stricken voice.</p> + +<p>"'All the better to see you with,'" quoted Hester, laughing and +looking down on him.</p> + +<p>"That's in <i>Red Riding Hood</i>. She knows about stories!" The child +clapped his hands.</p> + +<p>"Well," put in Mrs. Benny, seating herself with a sigh as the ham rasher +began to frizzle, "you may say what you like about education, but mothers +ought to thank the Lord for it. Sometimes, as 'tis, I feel as if the +whole world was on my shoulders, and I can't be responsible for it any +longer; but what would happen if 'twasn't for the school bell at nine +o'clock there's no knowing. You'd like a wash, my dear?"</p> + +<p>"I should indeed," answered Hester.</p> + +<p>"Sometimes I loses count," went on Mrs. Benny, not pursuing her +invitation, but standing with a faraway gaze bent upon the geraniums +in the window; "but there's eleven of 'em, and three buried, and five +at school this moment. I began with two boys—two years between +each—and then came Nuncey. There's four years between her and +Shake, but after that you may allow two years to each again, quite +like Jacob's ladder."</p> + +<p>"Lord bless 'ee, mother!" interrupted Nuncey, glancing up from the +frying-pan, "she don't want to be told I'm singular. She've found +out that already. Here's the kettle boilin'—fit and give her a cup +of tea, and take her upstairs. 'Tis near upon half-past nine +already, and at half-past ten father was to be here to fetch her +across to see Mr. Samuel—though, for my part, I hold 'twould be more +Christian to put her to bed and let her sleep the forenoon out."</p> + +<p>When Hester descended to breakfast Mr. Benny had already arrived; and +he too could not help showing astonishment at her youthful +appearance.</p> + +<p>"But twenty-five is not so young, after all," she maintained, +laughing. "I feel my years, I assure you. Why are you all in +conspiracy to add to them?"</p> + +<p>"The late Mr. Rosewarne had given us no particulars," began Mr. Benny.</p> + +<p>"He wrote at length to me about the school and his hopes for it."</p> + +<p>"You knew him, then, Miss Marvin?"</p> + +<p>"He was, in a fashion, a friend of my father's. He used to visit us +regularly once a year.—But let me show you his letter."</p> + +<p>"Not on any account!" Mr. Benny put up a flurried hand. "It—it +wouldn't be right." He said it almost sharply. Hester, puzzled to +know what offence she had nearly committed, and in some degree hurt +by his tone, thrust the letter back in her pocket.</p> + + +<br><br> +<p><a name = "11"></a> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XI.</h3> +<h4>HESTER IS ACCEPTED.</h4> + +<p>"Well?" Mr. Sam lifted his eyes from his writing-table.</p> + +<p>"Miss Marvin has arrived, sir, and is waiting in the morning-parlour," +Mr. Benny announced.</p> + +<p>"Let her wait a moment. I suppose she takes the line that we've +definitely engaged her?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know, sir, that she takes what you might call a line; but there's +no doubt she believes herself engaged. She talks very frankly, and is +altogether a nice, pleasant-spoken young person."</p> + +<p>"You didn't happen to find out what my father wrote to her?"</p> + +<p>"Of her own accord she offered to show me his letter."</p> + +<p>"Well, and what did it say?"</p> + +<p>"I didn't read it, sir."</p> + +<p>"You didn't read it?" Mr. Sam repeated in slow astonishment.</p> + +<p>"No, sir. I felt it wasn't fair to her," said Mr. Benny.</p> + +<p>His employer regarded him for a moment with sourly meditative eyes.</p> + +<p>"You had best show her in at once," he commanded sharply.</p> + +<p>He reseated himself, and did not rise when Hester entered, but slewed his +chair around, nodded gloomily in response to her slight bow, and, tapping +his knees with a paper-knife, treated her to a long, deliberate stare.</p> + +<p>"Take a seat, please."</p> + +<p>Hester obeyed with a quiet 'Thank you.'</p> + +<p>"You have come, I believe, in answer to a letter of my father's? +Might I ask you what he said, exactly?"</p> + +<p>Hester's hand went towards her pocket, but paused. She had taken an +instant aversion from this man.</p> + +<p>"My father," he went on, noting her hesitation, "has since died suddenly, +as you know. His affairs are in some confusion, of course." +This was untrue, but Mr. Sam had no consciousness of telling a lie. +The phrase was commonly used of dead men's affairs. "In this matter of +your engagement, for instance, I am moving in the dark. I can find no +record of it among his papers."</p> + +<p>"I answered him, sir; but my letter arrived, it seems, after his death. +Mr. Benny replied to it."</p> + +<p>"Yes, to be sure, I saw your letter, but it did not tell me how far the +negotiations had gone."</p> + +<p>"You are one of the Managers, sir?"</p> + +<p>"Well, not precisely; but you will find that makes little difference. +I am to be placed on the Board as my father's successor."</p> + +<p>"The offer was quite definite," said Hester calmly. "I would show you the +letter, but some parts of it are private."</p> + +<p>"Now why in the world was she ready to show it to Benny?" he asked +himself. Aloud he said, "You were a friend, then, of my father's? +Is it for him, may I ask, that you wear mourning?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir; for my own father. Mr. Rosewarne and he were friends—oh, for +many years. I asked about it once, when I was quite a girl, and why +Mr. Rosewarne came to visit us once every year as he did. My father told +me that it had begun in a quarrel, when they were young men; it may have +been when my father served in the army, in the barracks at Warwick. +I don't remember that he said so, yet somehow I have always had an idea +that the quarrel went back to that time; but he said that they had hated +one another, and made friends after a long time, and that your father had +the most to forgive, being in the wrong. I remember those words, because +they sounded so queer to me and I could not understand them. When I was +eighteen, I went out to get my living, and did not see Mr. Rosewarne for +many years until the other day, though he came regularly."</p> + +<p>"The other day?" Mr. Sam stared at her blankly.</p> + +<p>"On the 5th. Mr. Rosewarne always paid his visit on the 5th of June."</p> + +<p>"I don't understand you in the least. A minute ago you told me that your +father was dead!"</p> + +<p>"Yes; he died almost two months ago. But Mr. Rosewarne wrote and asked +leave to come, since it was for the last time."</p> + +<p>"Your mother entertained him?"</p> + +<p>Hester shook her head. "I have no mother. He came as my guest, and that +evening—for he never spent more than one night with us—we talked for a +long while. He knew, of course, that I was a schoolmistress; and he began +to mock at some things in which I believe very deeply. He did it to try +me, perhaps. I don't know whether he came meaning to try me, or seeing me +alone in the world, and making ready to leave the old home, he suddenly +took this notion into his head. At any rate, I did not guess for a +moment; and when he spoke scorn of girls' teaching, I answered him—too +hotly, I thought at the time; but it seems that he forgave me." +She rose. "I have told you all this, sir, because you say you are in the +dark. I am here because Mr. Rosewarne offered me the post. But you seem +disposed to deny this; and so in fairness I must consult a friend, if I +can find one, or a lawyer perhaps, before showing you the letter."</p> + +<p>"Wait a moment, please." Hester's story had held a light as it were, +though but a faint one, to an unexplored passage in old Rosewarne's life; +and to Mr. Sam every unexplored corner in that life was now to be +suspected. "You jump to conclusions, Miss Marvin. I merely meant to say +that as my father's executor I have to use reasonable caution. +Might I inquire your age? Excuse me, I know that ladies—"</p> + +<p>"I am twenty-five," she struck in sharply.</p> + +<p>"Married, or unmarried?"</p> + +<p>"Unmarried."</p> + +<p>"You will excuse me for saying that I am surprised. A young person of +your attractiveness—"</p> + +<p>"Have you any more questions, sir?"</p> + +<p>"Eh?—ah, to be sure! Qualifications?"</p> + +<p>Hester briefly enumerated these. He did not appear to be listening, but +sat eyeing her abstractedly, while he rattled the point of the paper-knife +between his Upper and lower teeth.</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes—quite satisfactory. Religious views?"</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon?"</p> + +<p>"Religious views?"</p> + +<p>"If you really think that a necessary question, I was baptised and brought +up in the Church of England."</p> + +<p>"Not a bigoted Churchwoman, I hope?"</p> + +<p>"Not bigoted, I certainly hope," Hester answered demurely.</p> + +<p>"I feel sure of it," said Mr. Sam, rising gallantly. "In the matter of +so-called apostolic succession, for instance—"</p> + +<p>But here there came a tap at the door, and Elizabeth Jane, the housemaid, +announced that Parson Endicott had called. "Show him in," ordered Mr. Sam +promptly, and at the same time—having suddenly made up his mind—he flung +Hester an insufferably confidential glance, which seemed to say, "Never +mind <i>him</i>; you and I are in the same boat."</p> + +<p>Parson Endicott suffered from shortness of sight and a high parsonic +manner. He paused on the threshold to wipe his eyeglasses, adjusted them +on his nose, and gazing around the room, cleared his throat as if about to +address a congregation.</p> + +<p>"Good-day, parson." Mr. Sam saluted him amiably, still without rising. +"You've come in the nick of time. I have just been chatting with Miss +Marvin here—our new schoolmistress."</p> + +<p>Hester divined that, for some reason, Mr. Samuel had decided to accept her +claim; and that for some reason equally occult he meant to give the +clergyman no choice but to accept it.</p> + +<p>"Indeed?—er—yes, to be sure, I am pleased to make your acquaintance, +Miss Marvin," said Parson Endicott mellifluously, with a glance which +seemed to distinguish Hester kindly from the ordinary furniture of the +room. This was his habitual way of showing cordial goodwill to his social +inferiors, and the poor man had lived to the age of fifty-six without +guessing that they invariably saw through it. Having bestowed this glance +of kindness upon Hester, he turned to Mr. Sam with another, which plainly +asked how far (as one person of importance conferring with another) he +might take it that the creature before them was a satisfactory creature.</p> + +<p>"You're in luck's way," said Mr. Sam, answering this look. "She's a +Churchwoman."</p> + +<p>"My dear Mr. Rosewarne,"—Parson Endicott pressed the finger-tips of both +hands together, holding them in front of his stomach—"I am gratified— +deeply gratified; but you must not suppose for one moment—h'm—whatever +my faults, I take some credit to myself for broad-mindedness. +A Churchwoman, eh?"—he beamed on Hester—"and in other respects, I hope, +satisfactory?"</p> + +<p>"Quite." Mr. Sam turned to Hester. "Would you mind running over your +qualifications again? To tell the truth, I've forgotten 'em."</p> + +<p>Hester, with an acute sense of shame, again rehearsed the list.</p> + +<p>"Quite so," said Parson Endicott, who had obviously not been listening. +He turned to Mr. Sam with inquiry in his eye. "I think, perhaps—if Miss +Marvin—"</p> + +<p>"I daresay she won't mind stepping into the next room," said Mr. Sam, +turning his back on her, and calmly reseating himself. The parson glanced +at Hester with polite inquiry, and, as she bowed, stepped to open the door +for her. With head bent to hide the flush on her cheeks, she passed out +into the great parlour.</p> + +<p>Now the great parlour overlooked the garden through three tall windows, +of which Susannah had drawn down the blinds half-way and opened the lower +sashes, so that the room seemed to Hester deliciously fresh and cool. +It was filled, too, with the fragrance of a jarful of peonies, set +accurately in the middle of the long bare table; and she stood for a +moment—her sight yet misty with indignant, wounded pride—staring at the +reflection of their crimson blooms in the polished mahogany.</p> + +<p>These two men were intolerable: and yet they only translated into meaner +terms the opinion which everyone in this strange country seemed to have +formed of her. She thought of the young sailor, of Nuncey, of Mr. Benny. +All these were simple souls, and patently willing to believe the best of a +fellow-creature; yet each in a different way had treated her with +suspicion, as though she were here to seek her own interests, and with a +selfish disregard of others'. The young sailor had openly and hotly +accused her of it. Nuncey and her father, though kind, and even +delicately eager to make her welcome, as clearly held some disapproval in +reserve—were puzzled somehow to account for her. And she was guiltless. +She had come in response to a plain invitation, thinking only of good work +to be done. No; what she found intolerable was not these two men, but the +whole situation.</p> + +<p>She turned with a start. Something had flown in through the open midmost +window, and fallen with a thud on the floor a few yards from her feet.</p> + +<p>She stepped across and stooped to examine it. It was the upper half of a +tattered and somewhat grimy rag doll.</p> + +<p>To account for this apparition we must cross the garden, to the +summer-house, where Myra and Clem had hidden themselves away from +the heat with a book, and, for the twentieth time perhaps, were lost in +the adventures of Jack the Tinker and the Giant Blunderbuss. +As a rule Myra would read a portion of the story, and the pair then fell +to acting it over together. In this way Clem had slain, in the course of +his young life, many scores of giants, wizards, dragons, and other enemies +of mankind, his sister the while keeping watch over his blindness, and +calling to him when and where to deliver the deadly stroke. +But to-day the heat disinclined them for these dramatic exertions, and +they sat quiet, even on reaching the point at which Jack the Tinker, his +friend Tom, the good-natured giant, and Tom's children, young Tom and +Jane, fare forth with slings for their famous hunting.</p> + +<p>"'They soon knocked down as many kids, hares, and rabbits as they desired. +They caught some colts, placed the children on two of them and the game on +the others, and home they went.'"</p> + +<p>Myra glanced up at Clem, for this was a passage which ever called to him +like a trumpet. But to-day Clem spread out both hands, protesting.</p> + +<p>"'On their return, whilst waiting for supper, Jack wandered around the +castle, and was struck by seeing a window which he had not before +observed. Jack was resolved to discover the room to which this window +belonged; so he very carefully noticed its position and then threw his +hammer in through it, that he might be certain of the spot when he found +his tool inside the castle. The next day, after dinner.'"—</p> + +<p>"Wait a moment, Clem dear!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, but we <i>must!</i>" Clem had jumped to his feet.</p> + +<p>"It's too dreadfully hot. Very well, then; but wait for the end.</p> + +<p>"'The next day, after dinner, when Tom was having his snooze, Jack took +Tom's wife Jane with him, and they began a search for the hammer near the +spot where Jack supposed the window should be; but they saw no signs of +one in any part of the walls. They discovered, however, a strangely +fashioned worm-eaten oak hanging-press. They carefully examined this, but +found nothing. At last Jack, striking the back of it with his fist, was +convinced from the sound that the wall behind it was hollow. He and Jane +went steadily to work, and with some exertion they moved the press aside +and disclosed a stone door. They opened this, and there was Jack's hammer +lying amidst a pile of bones, evidently the relics of some of old +Blunderbuss's wives, whom he had imprisoned in the wall and left to perish +there!'"</p> + +<p>Myra shut the book with a slam, and, groping beneath the seat of the +summer-house, found and handed to Clem the torso of an old rag doll, +which, because it might be thrown against a window without breaking the +glass, served as their wonted substitute for the Tinker's hammer.</p> + +<br><br> +<p>"O-oh!" cried Myra, clutching at Clem and drawing him back from the sudden +apparition in the window; and so for a dozen seconds she and Hester stared +at one another.</p> + +<p>"Good-morning!"</p> + +<p>"Good-morning!" Myra hesitated a moment. "Though I don't know who you +are. Oh, but yes I do! You're the new teacher, and it's no use your +pretending."</p> + +<p>"Am I pretending?" asked Hester.</p> + +<p>"Yes; but I know what to do." The child nodded her head defiantly and +made an elaborate sign of the cross, first over Clem and then upon the +front of her own bodice. "That's against witches," she announced.</p> + +<p>"Please don't take me for a witch!" It was absurd, but really Hester +began to wonder where these misunderstandings would end. The look, too, +on the boy's face puzzled her.</p> + +<p>"I always wondered," said Myra, unmoved, "if the new teacher would turn +out a witch. Witches always start by making themselves into young and +beautiful ladies; that's their trick. Whoever heard of a teacher being a +young and beautiful lady?"</p> + +<p>"Well," answered Hester, between a sigh and a smile, "a compliment's a +compliment, however it comes. I am the witch, then; and who may you be?— +Hansel and Grethel, I suppose? I don't think, though, that Hansel really +believes me a witch, by the way he's looking at me."</p> + +<p>"He isn't looking at you at all. Come away, Clem!" She led the boy away +by the hand, which he gave to her obediently, but left him when half-way +across the turf and came swiftly back. "He wasn't looking at you. +He's blind."</p> + +<p>"Ah, poor child! I am sorry—please tell me your name, and believe that I +am sorry."</p> + +<p>"If you were sorry, you'd go away, and not come teaching here." +Myra delivered this Parthian shaft over her shoulder as she walked off. +At the same moment Hester heard a door open in the room behind her, and +Parson Endicott came forth from the counting-house.</p> + +<p>"Ah—er—Miss Marvin "—He paused with a lift of his eyebrows at the sight +of the rag doll in Hester's hand. She, on her part, felt a sudden +hysterical desire to laugh wildly.</p> + +<p>"It—it isn't mine!" she managed to say in a faint voice and with a catch +in her throat.</p> + +<p>"I had not supposed so," Parson Endicott answered gravely. "I came to +tell you, Miss Marvin, that Mr. Samuel Rosewarne and I have agreed to +recognise your claim. By so doing we shall be piously observing his +father's wishes, and—er—I anticipate no opposition from my +fellow-members on the Board. The school—you have already paid it a +visit, perhaps? No? It will, I venture to think, exceed your +expectations. The school is furnished and ready. I suggest—if the other +Managers consent—that we open it formally on Tuesday next, with a short +religious service, consecrating, so to speak, your future labours. +Yours is a wonderful sphere of usefulness, Miss Marvin; and may I say what +pleasure it gives me to learn that you are a Churchwoman. A regular +communicant, I hope?"</p> + +<p>Hester was silent. She disliked this man, and saw no reason to be hurried +into making any confession to him.</p> + +<p>"It is a point upon which I am accustomed to lay great stress. In these +days, with schismatics on all hands to contend against, it behoves all +members of the true Church to show a bold and united front." He leaned +his head on one side and looked at her interrogatively. "Do you play the +harmonium?" he asked.</p> + +<p>But at this point Mr. Sam thrust his head out through the counting-house +doorway, and the parson coughed discreetly, as much as to say that the +answer might wait.</p> + +<p>"Well, Miss Marvin," said Mr. Sam jocosely, "we've fixed it up for you +between us!"</p> + +<p>Hester thanked them both briefly, and wished them good-day.</p> + +<p>"She dresses respectably," said the parson, when the two were left alone. +"I detect a certain earnestness in her, though I cannot say as yet how far +it is based on genuine religious principles."</p> + +<p>"She is more comely than I expected," said Mr. Sam.</p> + +<br><br> +<p>At the ferry Hester found Nuncey awaiting her with a boat-load of the +Benny children.</p> + +<p>"I reckoned you'd be here just-about-now," Nuncey hailed her. +"Come'st along for a bathe wi' the children! I've a-brought a bathin' +suit for 'ee."</p> + +<p>"But I can't swim," Hester answered in alarm, and added, as she stepped +into the boat, "Nuncey, don't laugh at me, but until to-day I had never +seen the sea in my life."</p> + +<p>Nuncey looked her up and down quizzically. "And I've never seen Lunnon! +Never mind, my dear; 'tisn' too late to begin. There's none of this crew +knows how to swim but me and Tenny here," she pointed out a boy of eleven +or twelve. "We'll just row out to harbour's mouth; there's a cove where +we can put the littlest ones to paddle. And after that I'll larn 'ee how +to strike out and use your legs, if you've a mind to. It'll do 'ee good +to kick a bit, I'll wage, after a dose of Mister Sam. Well, and how did +you like 'en?"</p> + +<p>"I didn't like him at all." Hester almost broke down. "Please, Nuncey, be +good to me! It—it seems as everyone was banded against me to-day, +to think badly of me."</p> + +<p>"Be good to 'ee? Why, to be sure I will! Sit 'ee down and unlace your +boots, while me and Tenny pulls. Care killed the cat—'cos why? +He wouldn't wash it off in salt water."</p> + +<p>They rowed down past the quays and out beyond the ancient fort at the +harbour's mouth. On the opposite shore a reef of rock ran out, and on the +ridge stood a white wooden cross, "put up," so Nuncey informed her, +"because Pontius Pilate landed here one time." Beyond this ridge they +found a shingly beach secluded from the town, warmed by the full rays of +the westering sun. There they undressed, one and all, and for half an +hour were completely happy. To be sure, Hester's happiness contained a +fair admixture of fright when Nuncey took her hand and led her out till +the water rose more than waist-high about her.</p> + +<p>"Now trust to me; lean forward, and see if you can't lift your feet off +the ground," said Nuncey, slipping a hand under her breast. Hester tried +her hardest to be brave, and although no swimming was accomplished that +day, the trial ended in peals of laughter. She splashed ashore at length, +gleeful, refreshed in body and mind, and resolved to make herself as good +a swimmer as Nuncey, who swam like a duck.</p> + + +<br><br> +<p><a name = "12"></a> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XII.</h3> + +<h4>THE OPENING DAY.</h4> + +<p>It often happens, when a number of persons meet together for some purpose +in itself unselfish, that there prevails in the assembly a spirit of its +own, recognisably good, surprising even the pettiest with a sudden glow in +their hearts, and a sudden revelation that the world is a cheerfuller +place than in their daily lives they take it for. This cheerful +congregational spirit I take to flow from a far deeper source than the +emotion, for example, which a great preacher commands in his audience. +It may be—indeed, usually is—accompanied by very poor oratory. +The occasion may be trivial as you please; that it be unselfish will +suffice to unlock the goodness within men, who, if often worse than they +believe, and usually than they make believe, are always better than they +know.</p> + +<p>This spirit prevailed at the school opening, and because of it Hester felt +happy and confident during the little function, and ever afterwards +remembered it with pleasure. For the moment Church and Dissent seemed to +forget their meannesses and jealousies. The morning sun shone without; +the breeze played through the open windows with a thousand hedgerow +scents; the two score of children ranged by their desks, fresh-faced and +in their cleanest clothes, suggested thoughts innocent and deep as the +gospel story; and if Parson Endicott was long-winded, and Mr. Sam spoke +tunelessly and accompanied his performance on the bones, so to speak—that +is, by pulling at his knuckles till the joints cracked—consolation soon +followed. For third and last came the turn of the Inspector, who had +halted on his progress through the county to attend a ceremony of the kind +in which he took delight. He had lately been transferred from the Charity +Commission to this new work, and it fell to him at a time when the selfish +ambitions die down, and in their place, if a man's heart be sound, there +springs up a fatherly tenderness for the young, with a passionate desire +to help them. Hester could not guess that this grave and courteous +gentleman, grey-haired, clean shaven, scholarly in his accent, neat even +to primness in his dress, spoke with a vision before him of an England to +be made happy by making its children happy, that the roots of the few +simple thoughts he uttered were watered by ideal springs—</p> + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p class= "noindent">"I will not cease from mental fight,<br> +<span class = "ind3">Nor shall my sword sleep in my hand,</span><br> + Till we have built Jerusalem<br> +<span class = "ind3">In England's green and pleasant land."</span><br></p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + +<p>Simple as the thoughts were, and directly spoken, the children gazed at +him with set faces, not appearing to kindle with any understanding; and +yet, after the manner of children, they were secreting a seed here and +there, to germinate in their dark little minds later on, as in due time +Hester discovered. She herself, seated at the harmonium, felt a lift of +the heart and mist gathering over her sight at the close of his quiet +peroration, and a tear fell as she stretched out her hands over the +opening chords of the 'Old Hundredth.' All sang it with a will, and +Parson Endicott with an unction he usually reserved for 'The Church's One +Foundation.'</p> + +<p>With a brief prayer and the benediction the ceremony ended, and while the +elders filed out the Inspector walked over for a few words with Hester.</p> + +<p>"Ever since I learnt your name, Miss Marvin—excuse me, it is not a common +one—I have been wanting to ask you a question. I used to have an old +friend—Jeremy Marvin—who lived at Warwick, and found for me some scores +of old books in his time. I was wondering—"</p> + +<p>"He was my father, sir."</p> + +<p>"Indeed? Then, please, you must let me shake hands with his daughter. +Yes, yes,"—with a glance down at her black skirt—"I heard of his death, +and with a real sense of bereavement."</p> + +<p>"I have addressed and posted many a parcel to you, sir, in the days before +I left home to earn my living."</p> + +<p>"And you weren't going to tell me that? You left me to find out—yes, +yes; 'formidable Inspector,' and that sort of thing, eh? I'm not an ogre, +though. Now this little discovery has just put the finishing touch to a +delightful morning!"</p> + +<p>Hester, encouraged by his smile, laughed merrily, and so did he; less at +the spoken words than because of the good gladness brimming their hearts.</p> + +<p>"But tell me," he went on, becoming serious again, "if a child, out of +shyness, hid from you a small secret of that sort, you would be sorry—eh? +And you would rightly be sorry, because by missing that little of his +entire trust you had by so much fallen short of being a perfect teacher."</p> + +<p>"And two of these children," thought Hester, with a glance at Clem and +Myra, "solemnly believe I am a witch!"</p> +<br><br> +<p>As the Inspector went down the hill towards the ferry, he overtook another +and older acquaintance in an old college friend. This was Sir George +Dinham of Troy, who had attended the ceremony uninvited, and greatly to +the awe of everyone assembled—the Inspector and Hester alone excepted. +Indeed, his presence had bidden fair at the start to upset the +proceedings; for Parson Endicott and Mr. Sam had both approached him hat +in hand, and begged him, not without servility, to preside. This proposal +he had declined with his habitual shy, melancholy smile, and shrunk away +to a back row of the audience. In his great house over Troy he lived a +recluse: a scholar, a childless man, the last of his race, rarely seen by +the townsfolk, of whom two-thirds at least were his tenants. He had heard +of the Inspector's coming, and some ray of remembered affection had +enticed him forth from his shell, to listen. Now, at the sound of the +Inspector's footstep on the road behind him, he turned and waited, leaning +on his stick. The two men had not met since a Commemoration Ball when +young Dinham led his friend proudly up to a beautiful girl, his bride that +was to be. She died a bare six weeks later; and from that day her lover +had buried himself with his woe.</p> + +<p>"George!"</p> + +<p>"How d'ye do, Jack? I had to turn out to listen, you see—<i>ecce quam +sempiterna vox juventutis!</i> You have improved on your old debating style, +having, as I gather, found belief."</p> + +<p>The Inspector flushed. "Ah, you gathered that?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I haven't lost the knack of understanding those I once understood. +Not that it needed anything of the sort. Man, you were admirably +straight—and gentle, too—you that used to be intolerant. You mustn't +think, though, that I'm convinced; I can't afford to be."</p> + +<p>"You mean—?"</p> + +<p>"I mean that, if you are right, I ought to be a sun worshipper, and sit +daily at dawn on top of my tower yonder, warming my hands against the glow +of children's faces, trooping to school. Whereas the little beggars run +wild and rob my orchards, and I don't remember at this moment my parish +schoolmaster's name."</p> + +<p>The Inspector bethought him of the broken bridge in his friend's life—the +bridge by which men cross over from self into love of a new generation— +and was silent.</p> + +<p>"But look here," Sir George went on, "the fun was your preaching the +doctrine in that temple. You didn't know the man who built it. He died a +week or two ago; a man of character, I tell you, and a big fellow, too, in +his way."</p> + +<p>"I have heard of this Rosewarne. All I know of him is that he's to be +thanked for the best-fitted school, for its size, in all Cornwall. +I'm not talking of expense merely; he used thought, down to the details. +When you begin to study these things, you recognise thought, down to the +raising or lowering of a desk, or the screws in a cupboard. You don't get +your fittings right by giving <i>carte blanche</i> to a wholesale firm."</p> + +<p>"Of course you don't. But what, think you, had the man in view? I tell +you, Jack, you are a fossil beside him. You talk of making good citizens, +quite in the old Hellenic style. Oh yes, I recognised the incurable +Aristotle in your exhortation, though you <i>did</i> address it to two score of +rustic British children. But, my dear fellow, you are a philosopher in a +barbarian's court, and your barbarian has been reading his Darwin. +Where you see a troop of little angels—"</p> + +<p>"<i>Non Angeli sed Angli</i>," the Inspector put in, with a smile.</p> + +<p>"Where you behold a vision, then, of little English citizens growing up to +serve the State, he saw a horde of little struggle-for-lifers climbing on +each other's backs; and these fellows—that son of his, and the parson— +will follow his line by instinct. They don't reason; but Darwin and the +rest have flung them on the scent of selfishness, and they have a rare +nose for self. Struggle-for-life or struggle-for-creed, the scent is the +same, and they're hot upon it."</p> + +<p>"Think of these last fifty years of noble reform. Is England going back +upon herself—upon the spirit, for instance, that raised Italy, freed the +slave, and cared for the factory child?"</p> + +<p>"To be sure she will. She has found a creed to vindicate the human brute, +and the next generation—mark my words—will be predatory. Within twenty +years we shall be told that it is inevitable the weak should suffer to +enrich the strong; we shall accept the assurance, and our poets will hymn +it passionately."</p> + +<p>"If that day should ever come, we can still die fighting it. But I trust +to Knowledge to do her own work. You remember that sentence in the +<i>Laws</i>, 'Many a victory has been and will be suicidal to the victors, but +education is never suicidal'? Nor will you persuade me easily that the +new mistress up yonder,"—the Inspector nodded back at the school +building—"is going to train her children to be little beasts of prey."</p> + +<p>"The girl with the Madonna face? No; you're right there. But the +Managers will find a short way with her; she'll go."</p> + +<p>"She turns out to be the daughter of an old friend of mine, Marvin of +Warwick, the second-hand bookseller."</p> + +<p>"Marvin? Jeremiah Marvin? Why, I must have received his catalogues by +the score."</p> + +<p>"Jeremy," his friend corrected him. "He was christened Jeremiah, to be +sure, and told me once it was the handiest name on earth, and could be +made to express anything, 'from the lugubrious, sir, to the rollicking. +In my young days, sir,'—for he had been a soldier in his time—'I was +Corporal Jerry. Corporal Jerry Marvin! How's that for a name? Jeremiah +I hold in reserve against the blows of destiny or promotion to a better +world. But Jeremy, sir, as I think you'll allow, is the only wear for a +second-hand bookseller.' A whimsical fellow!"</p> + +<p>"He is dead, then?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, he died a few weeks since; and poorly-off, I'm afraid. He had a +habit of reading the books he vended. Look here, George,"—the Inspector +halted in the middle of the roadway—"I want you to do me a favour, or +rather, to promise one."</p> + +<p>"What is it?"</p> + +<p>"I want you to promise that, if these fellows get rid of Miss Marvin, you +will see that she suffers no harsh treatment from them. I can find her +another post, no doubt; but there may be an interval in which you can +help."</p> + +<p>"Very well," Sir George answered, after a pause. "I can manage that. +<br><br> +<p>But they'll eject her, you may bet."</p> + + +<br><br> +<p><a name = "13"></a> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XIII.</h3> + +<h4>TOM TREVARTHEN INTERVENES.</h4> + +<p>When the company had departed Hester arranged her small troop at their +desks—boys and girls and 'infants'—and made them a speech. It was a +very short speech, asking for their affection, and somehow she found +herself addressing it to Myra, whose dark eyes rested on her with a stare +of unyielding suspicion. On hearing that the two children were to attend +the Board School, Aunt Purchase had broken out into vehement protest, the +exact purport of which Myra did not comprehend. But she gathered that a +wrong of some kind was being done to her and (this was more important) to +Clem, and she connected it with the loss of their liberty. Until this +moment she had known no schooling. Her grandmother in stray hours had +taught her the alphabet and some simple reading, and the rest of her +knowledge she had picked up for herself. She well remembered the last of +these stray hours. It fell on a midsummer evening, three years before, +when she and Clem—then a child of four—had spent a long day riding to +and fro in the hay waggons. Now Mrs. Rosewarne for the last few years of +her life, and indeed ever since Myra could remember, had been a cripple, +confined to the house or to her small garden, save only when she entered +an ancient covered vehicle (called 'the Car') and was jogged into Liskeard +to visit her dressmaker, or over to Damelioc to attend one of Lady +Killiow's famous rose fêtes. It was the hour of sunset, then, and in the +shadow of the hedge old Pleasant, the waggon-horse, having Clem on his +back, stood tethered, released from his work, contentedly cropping the +rank grass between the clusters of meadow-sweet, and whisking his tail to +brush off the flies. The horse-flies had been pestilent all day, and +Myra was weaving a frontlet of green hazel twigs to slip under Pleasant's +headstall, when she happened to turn and caught sight of her grandmother +standing by the upper gate, leaning on her ivory-headed staff, and shading +her eyes against the level sun. No one ever knew how the old lady had +found strength to walk the distance from the house—for walked it she had. +It may have been that some sudden fright impelled her; some unreasoning +panic for the children's safety. Old Rosewarne, seated on horseback and +watching the rick-makers in the far corner, caught sight of her, cantered +across to the gate, dismounted there, and led her home on his arm; and the +children had followed. So far as Myra could remember, nothing came of +this apparition—nothing except that she found herself, a little later, +seated in her grandmother's dressing-room and reading aloud; and this must +have happened soon after they reached home, for while she read she heard +the fowls settling themselves to roost in the hen-house beneath the open +window. Three weeks later Mrs. Rosewarne was dead—had faded out like a +shadow; and since then the children had run wild, no one constraining them +to tasks.</p> + +<p>She sat with eyes fixed sullenly on Hester, and fingers ready at any +moment to make the sign of the cross. To the other children she paid no +heed; they were merely so many victims entrapped, ready to be changed into +birds and put into cages, as in <i>Jorinda and Jorindel</i>. "Why was this +woman separating the girls from the boys? She should not take away Clem. +Let her try!" Hester had too much tact. Having marshalled the others, +she set a pen and copy-book before Myra, and bending over Clem, asked him +in the gentlest voice to sit and wait; she would come back to him in a +moment (she promised) and with a pretty game for him to play.</p> + +<p>"Don't you listen to a single word she says," Myra whispered; but Clem had +already taken his seat.</p> + +<p>Hester had sent for a book of letters in raised type for the blind boy. +Before setting him down to this, however, she wished to try the suppleness +and accuracy of his touch with some simple reed-plaiting.</p> + +<p>The reeds lay within the cupboard across the room. She went to fetch +them, and at this moment the schoolroom door opened behind her.</p> + +<p>She heard the lift of the latch, and turned with a smile. But the smile +faded almost at once as she recognised her visitor. It was Tom +Trevarthen, and he entered with a grin and a defiant, jaunty swagger which +did not at all become him.</p> + +<p>In an instant she scented danger, and felt her cheeks paling; but she +lifted her head none the less, looking him straight in the eyes.</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon. Are you in search of someone?"</p> + +<p>"Seems I'm too late for the speechifying," said the young sailor, avoiding +her gaze, and winking at two or three elder boys on the back benches. +"Well, never mind; must do a little speechifyin' of my own, I suppose. +By your leave, miss," he added, seating himself on the end of a form and +fanning himself with his seaman's cap, which he had duly doffed on +entering.</p> + +<p>"I think," said Hester quietly, and prayed that he might not hear the +tremble in her voice, "I think you have come on purpose to annoy, and that +you do not like the business."</p> + +<p>"It's this way, miss. I've no grudge at all against <i>you</i>, except to +wonder how such a gentle-spoken young lady can have the heart to come here +ruinin' an old 'ooman that never done you a ha'p'orth of harm in her +life." He was looking at her firmly now, with a rising colour in his tan +cheeks, and Hester's heart sank as she noted his growing confidence. +"But I've told 'ee that a'ready," he said, and turned to the boys again. +"What I wonder at more is <i>you</i>, Billy Sweet—an' <i>you</i>, Dave Polseath— +an' <i>you</i>, Rekkub Johns—that'll be growin' up for men in a year or two. +Seems to me there's some spirit gone out o' this here parish since I used +to be larrupped for minchin'. Seems to me a passel o' boys in my day +would have had summat to say afore they sat here quiet, helpin' to steal +the bread out of an old 'ooman's mouth, an' runnin' to heel for a +furriner."</p> + +<p>The boys glanced at one another and grinned, then at the intruder, lastly +at Hester. Her look held them, and some habit of discipline learnt from +the old woman they were being invited to champion. One or two began +shuffling in their seats.</p> + +<p>But it was Myra who led the rebellion. She stepped to Tom's side at once, +and cried she, pointing a finger at Hester, "She's a witch! Look at +her—she's a witch! I know now why Aunt Hannah called it a burning shame. +She's robbing Mother Butson, and she's a witch and ought to be burnt. +Come along, Clem!"</p> + +<p>Hester, turning from the child between pain and disgust, intent only on +holding the bigger boys in check while she could, did not note that Clem +made no movement to obey his sister.</p> + +<p>"Well done, Miss Myra!—though you needn't talk vindictive. There's no +need to harm <i>her</i>. Now look here, boys! Mother Butson gives you a +holiday, and sent me up with the message. What do 'ee say to it?"</p> + +<p>"Stop!" Hester lifted a hand against the now certain mutiny. "Your name +is Trevarthen, I believe?"</p> + +<p>"Tom Trevarthen, miss."</p> + +<p>"Then, Tom Trevarthen, you are a poor coward. Now do your worst and go +your way. You have heard the truth."</p> + +<p>"'Tidn' best a man said that to me," answered Tom, with a lowering brow.</p> + +<p>"A man?" she replied, with a short laugh of contempt which in her own ears +sounded like a sob. "There were men here just now; but you waited till +they were gone!"</p> + +<p>"No, miss; I did not, you'll excuse me. I only knew the school was to +open to-day. I came ashore half an hour ago, and walked up here across +the fields." He stood for a second or two meditatively twisting his round +cap between his hands. "We'll play fair, though," he said, and faced +round on the benches. "Sorry to disappoint 'ee, boys, but you must do +without your holiday, after all. This here is a man's job, as Miss Marvin +says, and 'tis for men to settle it. Only,"—he turned upon Hester again— +"you must name your man quick. My ship sails early in the week; let alone +that there's cruel wrong being done, and the sooner 'tis righted the +better."</p> + +<p>Hester's hand went up to her throat. Was this extraordinary youth +actually proposing a wager of battle? His eyes rested on hers seriously; +his demeanour had become entirely courteous.</p> + +<p>"Ah," she gasped, "but cannot you see that the mischief is done! +You behave shamefully, and now you talk childishly. You have made these +children disloyal, and what hold can I have on them except through their +loyalty? You have thrown me back at the start—I cannot bear to think how +far—and you talk as if some foolish violence could mend this for me! +Please—please go away! I have no patience to argue with you."</p> + +<p>"Yes, go away!" broke in a shrill treble voice. It was Clem's. The child +had risen from his bench and stood up, gripping the desk in front and +trembling.</p> + +<p>"Clem dear, you don't understand—" began Myra.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I do understand!" For the first time in his life his will clashed +with hers. "Tom Trevarthen is wrong, and ought to go away."</p> + +<p>"She's a nasty, deceitful witch!"</p> + +<p>"She's not a witch!" The child's eyes turned towards Hester, as if +seeking to behold her and be assured. "You're not a witch, are you?" he +asked; and at the question Hester's tears, so long held back, brimmed +over.</p> + +<p>Before she could answer him the door opened, and Mr. Sam stood in the +entry with Mrs. Purchase close behind his shoulder, in a sky-blue and +orange bonnet.</p> + +<p>"Eh? Hullo! what's all this?" demanded Mr. Sam, staring around the +schoolroom; and Mrs. Purchase, bustling in and mopping her face, paused +too to stare.</p> + +<p>For a moment no one spoke. Mr. Sam's eyes passed over Tom Trevarthen in +slow, indignant wonder, and rested on Hester's flushed cheeks and +tear-reddened lids.</p> + +<p>"Why, whatever on earth is Tom Trevarthen doin' here?" cried Mrs. +Purchase.</p> + +<p>"I've a-come here, ma'am," spoke up Tom, kindling, "to say a word against +a cruel shame; for shame it is, to take the food away from a poor old +'ooman's mouth!"</p> + +<p>"Meanin' Mother Butson?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, ma'am."</p> + +<p>"An' your way to set things right is to come here and browbeat a poor girl +before the children till her eyes be pink as garden daisies! Go'st 'way +home, thou sorry fool! I'm ashamed of 'ee!"</p> + +<p>"As for that, ma'am, I did wrong," Tom admitted sullenly, "and I beg her +pardon for't. But it don't alter the hurt to Mother Butson."</p> + +<p>"You're mistaken, my friend," broke in Mr. Sam, in his rasping voice. +"To be sure you haven't closed Mother Butson's school for her, because +'tis closed already. Twopence a week is the lowest she could ever charge, +to earn a living, and I leave to judge how many sensible folks will be +paying twopence a week for her ignorance when they can get sound teaching +up here for a penny. But a worse thing you've done for her. She lodges +with your mother, I believe? Very well; you can go home and tell your +mother to get rid of her lodger. Eh, what are you staring at?"</p> + +<p>The young man had fallen back, and stared from face to face, incredulous. +There was a bewildered horror in his eyes, and it cut Hester to the heart. +Her own eyes sank as he challenged them.</p> + +<p>"No, Sam—no!" Mrs. Purchase interposed. "Don't 'ee go to punish the lad +that way. He've made a mistake; but he's a well-meanin' lad for all, and +I'll wage he'll tell you he's sorry."</p> + +<p>"Well-meaning, is it, to come here bullying a young lady? Sorry, is he? I +promise he'll be sorrier before I've done. Answer me, sir. Did Mrs. +Butson know of your visit here to-day?"</p> + +<p>"I told her I was coming," Tom answered dully.</p> + +<p>"That settles it. Heaven is my witness," said Mr. Sam, with sudden +unction, "I was willing to let the old woman wind up her affairs in peace. +But mutiny I don't stand, nor molesting. You go home, sir, to your +mother, and tell her my words. I give her till Saturday—"</p> + +<p>The words ended in a squeal as Tom, with a sharp intake of breath like a +sob, sprang and gripped him by the throat, bearing him back and +overturning Hester's desk with a crash. One or two of the girls began to +scream. The boys scrambled on top of their forms, craning, round-eyed +with excitement. The little ones stood up with white faces, shrinking +with terror, as Hester ran and placed herself between them and the +struggle.</p> + +<p>"You cur! You miserable—dirty—cur!" panted Tom, shaking Mr. Sam to and +fro. "Leave me alone, missus!"—for Mrs. Purchase was attempting to +clutch him by the collar. "Leave me deal with him, I tell you! +Stand clear, there!"</p> + +<p>With a sharp thrust he loosened his hold, and Mr. Sam went flying +backwards, missed his footing, and fell, his head striking the corner of a +form with a thud.</p> + +<p>"Get up! Up on your legs, and have it out like a man!"</p> + +<p>But Mr. Sam lay where he had fallen in a heap, with the blood oozing from +an ugly cut across the left temple.</p> + +<p>"Get up?" vociferated Mrs. Purchase. "Lucky for you if he ever gets up! +You've gone nigh to killing 'en, mean it or no. Out of my sight, you +hot-headed young fool! Be off to the ship, pack up your kit, and run. +'Tis a jailin' matter, this; and now you've done for yourself as well as +your mother."</p> + +<p>For a moment the young man stared at her, not seeming to comprehend. +"Eh, missus?" he muttered. "Be you agen' me too?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Purchase positively laughed, and a weird cackling sound it made in +Hester's ears as she bent to support one of the smaller girls, who had +fainted. "Agen' you? Take an' look around on your mornin's work! +You've struck down my brother's son, Tom Trevarthen—isn't that enough? +Go an' pack your kit; I'll have no jail-birds aboard my ship."</p> + +<p>He turned and went. On the way his foot encountered Mr. Sam's tall silk +hat, and he kicked it viciously through the doorway before him.</p> + +<br><br> +<p>"Tom!"</p> + +<p>Until the call had been repeated twice behind him Tom Trevarthen did not +hear. When, after a stupid stare at his hands (as though there had been +blood on his knuckles), he turned to the voice, he saw Myra speeding +bareheaded to overtake him. She beckoned him to stop.</p> + +<p>"What will you do, Tom?" she panted, as he waited for her to come up.</p> + +<p>"Me, missy? Well, I hadn't given it a thought; but now you mention it, I +s'pose I'd better cut. 'Tis a police job, most like, as your aunt said. +But never you mind for me."</p> + +<p>The name of the police sounded terribly in Myra's ears.</p> + +<p>"The <i>Good Intent</i> will be sailing to-night; I heard Peter Benny say so," +she suggested; "and the <i>Mary Rowett</i> to-morrow, if the weather holds."</p> + +<p>Tom Trevarthen nodded. "That's so, missy. Old man Hancock of the +<i>Good Intent</i> wants a hand, to my knowledge. I'll try 'en, or else walk +to Falmouth. Don't you fret for me," he repeated.</p> + +<p>They had reached the gate of Hall, over which a gigantic chestnut spread +its branches. As Myra faced Tom Trevarthen a laugh sounded overhead; and, +looking up, she saw Master Calvin's legs and elastic-sided boots depending +from a green bough.</p> + +<p>"Hullo, Myra!" Master Calvin called down. "How d'you get on up at the +Board School?"</p> + +<p>"<i>He</i> don't go to Board School," said Tom Trevarthen, jerking his thumb up +towards the bough. "In training to be a gentleman, <i>he</i> is; not like +Master Clem. Well, good-bye, missy!"</p> + +<p>Myra watched him down the road, and, as he disappeared at the bend, flung +a glance up at the chestnut tree.</p> + +<p>"Come down," she commanded, in no loud voice, but firmly.</p> + +<p>"Shan't."</p> + +<p>"What are you doing up there?" She sniffed the air, her sense of smell +alive to a strange scent in it. "You nasty, horrid boy, you're smoking!"</p> + +<p>"I'm not," answered Master Calvin untruthfully, concealing a pipe. +"I'm up here pretending to be Zacchæus."</p> + +<p>Myra without more ado pushed open the gate and went up the path to the +house. In less than two minutes she was back again.</p> + +<p>"Come down."</p> + +<p>"Shan't."</p> + +<p>"Very well. I'm going to Zacchæus you."</p> + +<p>"What's that in your hand?"</p> + +<p>"It's grandfather's powder-flask; and I've a box of matches, too."</p> + + +<br><br> +<p><a name = "14"></a> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XIV.</h3> + +<h4>MR. SAM IS MAGNANIMOUS.</h4> + +<p>Hester's cupboard contained a small case of plasters, lint, ointments, +etc., for childish cuts and bruises. She despatched a couple of boys to +the playground pump to fetch water, and then glanced at Mrs. Purchase +interrogatively.</p> + +<p>"Better send for a doctor, I suppose?" said Mrs. Purchase.</p> + +<p>"I think, if we bathe the wound, we can tell better what's necessary. +Will <i>you</i>—?"</p> + +<p>"I reckon the job's more in your line. You've the look o' one able to +nurse—yes, and you've the trick of it, I see," Mrs. Purchase went on, as +Hester knelt, lifted the sufferer's head, and motioned to the boys to set +down their basin of water beside her. "I'll clear the children out to the +playground and keep 'em quiet. Call, if you want anything; I'll be close +outside." The good lady shepherded them forth with brisk authority; +not for nothing had she commanded a ship these thirty years. +"But, Lord!" she muttered, "to think of me playing schoolmistress! +What'll I do, I wonder, if these varmints of boys break ship and run +home?"</p> + +<p>She might have spared herself this anxiety. The children were all agog to +see the drama out. Would Mr. Samuel recover? And, if not, what would be +done to Tom Trevarthen? They discussed this in eager groups. If any of +them had an impulse to run downhill and cry the news through the village, +Mrs. Purchase's determined slamming and bolting of the playground gate +restrained it—that, and perhaps a thought that by running with the news +they would start the hue-and-cry after Tom.</p> + +<p>Hester, having sponged away the blood, found that the cut on Mr. Sam's +temple was nothing to need a doctor, but could be set right by cleansing +and a few strips of plaster. Doubtless the fall had stunned him, and +doubtless he must be in some pain. Yet when at length he groaned and +opened his eyes she could not repress a suspicion (although she hated +herself for it) that in some degree he had been shamming.</p> + +<p>"Do not move, please," she commanded gently, snipping at the plaster with +her scissors. "A couple of strips more, then a bandage, and you will soon +be feeling better."</p> + +<p>His eyes rolled and fixed themselves on her. "A ministering angel," he +muttered. She caught the words, and turned her head aside with a flush of +annoyance.</p> + +<p>"You have an ugly bruise," she told him sharply. "I am going to put a +cool compress on it. You had better close your eyes, or some of the water +will be trickling into them."</p> + +<p>He closed them obediently, but asked, "He has gone?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Then <i>you</i> are safe at least, thank God!"</p> + +<p>Yes, he had taken his hurt in protecting her; and yet something in his +tone caused her to glance, and as if for protection, to the doorway.</p> + +<p>"You are comely," he went on slowly, opening his eyes again, and again +rolling that embarrassing gaze upon her. "Your fingers, too, have the +gift of healing."</p> + +<p>She could not tell him with what repugnance she brought them to touch him. +Having fastened the bandage firmly, she turned again to the doorway to +summon Mrs. Purchase, but checked herself.</p> + +<p>"I want to ask you a favour," she began in a hesitating voice.</p> + +<p>"You may ask it confidently."</p> + +<p>"I want you to forgive—no, not forgive; that is the wrong word—to be +generous, and not to punish."</p> + +<p>Mr. Samuel blinked. "Let him off?" he asked. "Why? What's your +motive?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know that there's any motive." She met his eyes frankly enough, +but with a musing air as if considering a new suggestion. "No; it's just +a wish, no more. An hour ago it seemed to me that everyone was eager and +happy; that there would always be pleasure in looking back upon our +opening day." Her voice trembled a little. "Now this has happened, to +spoil all; and yet something may be saved if we bear no malice, but take +up the work again, and show that we waste no time or thought on +punishment, being determined only to win."</p> + +<p>"You are asking a great deal of me," he answered. Nevertheless he had +instantly resolved to grant her wish, and for many reasons. "I suppose +you know the matter is serious enough for a warrant? Still, if I shall +oblige you by declining to prosecute—"</p> + +<p>"But please don't put it in that way!" she interrupted.</p> + +<p>"I really don't see how else to put it." He paused, as if requiring her +to suggest a better. "The point is, you want me to let the fellow off— +eh? Well then, I will."</p> + +<p>"Thank you," said Hester, with a sigh.</p> + +<p>Mr. Sam smiled. After being shaken like a rat, a man needs to retrieve +his self-respect, and he was retrieving his famously. He could see +himself in a magnanimous light: he had laid the girl under an obligation; +he had avoided public action which would, to be sure, have given him +revenge, but at much cost of dignity; and, for the rest, he had still +plenty of ways to get even with Master Tom Trevarthen.</p> + +<p>Hester had a mind to tell him that he misconstrued her; that merely to +abstain from pursuing the lad with warrant or summons neither fulfilled +her request nor touched the kernel of it. But while she cast about for +words Mrs. Purchase thrust a cheerful head in at the doorway.</p> + +<p>"Hullo, that's famous!" she exclaimed at sight of the bandaging. +"You're a clever woman, my dear; and now I'll ask you to bring your +cleverness outside here and take these children off my hands. +W'st, you little numskulls!"—she turned and addressed them—"keep quiet, +I say, with your mountains out of molehills! There's no one killed nor +hurt; only a foolish lad lost his temper, and he'll smart for it, and I +hope it'll be a warning to you." She poked her head in through the +doorway again. "Come along, Sam, and show yourself. And as for you, my +dear," she went on hurriedly, lowering her voice, "better get 'em back to +their work as if nought had happened. I'll bide a while with you till you +have 'em in hand again."</p> + +<p>"Thank you," said Hester; "but that wouldn't help me in the long-run. +I must manage them alone."</p> + +<p>"You mean that?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; but I thank you none the less."</p> + +<p>"And you're right. You're a plucky woman." She turned to Mr. Sam +briskly. "Well, take my arm and put on as light a face as you can. +Here's your hat—I've smoothed out the worst of the dents. Eh? Bain't +goin' to make a speech, surely!"</p> + +<p>Mr. Sam, leaning slightly on his aunt's arm, pulled himself up on the +threshold and surveyed the children's wondering faces.</p> + +<p>"Boys and girls," he said, "our opening day has been spoilt by a scene on +which I won't dwell, because I desire you not to dwell on it. If you +treat it lightly, as I intend to do, bearing no malice, we shall show the +world all the more clearly that we are in earnest about things which +really matter."</p> + +<p>He cleared his throat and looked around with a challenging smile at +Hester, who watched him, wondering to hear her own words so cleverly +repeated.</p> + +<p>"We wish," he proceeded, "to remember our opening day as a pleasant one. +Miss Marvin especially wishes to look back on it with pleasure; and I +think we all ought to help her. Now if I say no more about this foolish +young man—whom I could punish very severely—will you promise me to go +back to your books? To-day, as you know, is a half-holiday; but there +remains an hour for work before you disperse. I want your word that you +will employ it well, and honestly try to do all that Miss Marvin tells +you."</p> + +<p>He paused again, and chose to take a slight murmur among the children for +their assent.</p> + +<p>"I thank you. There is an old saying that he who conquers himself +performs a greater feat than he who takes a city. Some of us, Miss +Marvin, may hereafter associate the lesson with this our opening day."</p> + +<p>He seemed to await some reply to this; but Hester could not speak, even to +thank him. Her spirit recoiled from him; she could not reconcile egoism +so inordinate with such cleverness in turning it to account. She watched +him with a certain fascination, as one watches some trained monster in a +show displaying its deformity for public applause. He shook hands with +her and made his exit, not without dignity, leaning on Mrs. Purchase's arm +and turning at the playground gate to wave farewell.</p> + +<p>It is doubtful if the children understood his speech. But they were awed. +At the word of command they trooped into school, settled themselves at +their desks, and took up their interrupted lessons with a docility at +which Hester wondered, since for the moment she herself had lost all power +to interest or amuse them.</p> + +<p>For her that was a dreadful hour. A couple of humble-bees zoomed against +the window pane, and the sound, with the ticking of the schoolroom clock, +took possession of her brain. Z-zoom! Tick-tack, tick-tack! +Would lesson-time never come to an end? She went about automatically +correcting sums, copies, exercises, because the sight of the pencilled +words or figures steadied her faculties, whereas she felt that if she +called the children up in class her wits would wander and all answers come +alike to her, right or wrong. Her will, too, had fallen into a strange +drowsiness. She wanted the window open, to get rid of the humble-bees; +a word to one of the elder boys and it would be done. Yet the minutes +passed and the word remained unspoken. So a sick man will lie and debate +with himself so small a thing as the lifting of a hand.</p> + +<p>At length the clock hands pointed to five minutes to noon. She ordered +books to be shut and slates to be put away; and going to the harmonium, +gave out the hymn, "Lord, dismiss us with Thy blessing." The Managers had +agreed upon this hymn; the Nonconformist majority insisting, however, that +the concluding 'Amen' should be omitted. Omitted accordingly it was on +the slips of paper printed for school use.</p> + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p class = "noindent">"Lord, dismiss us with Thy blessing,<br> +<span class = "ind3">Thanks for mercies past receive;</span><br> + Pardon all their faults confessing;<br> +<span class = "ind3">Time that's lost may all retrieve;</span><br> +<span class = "ind6">May Thy children</span><br> +<span class = "ind3">Ne'er again Thy Spirit grieve."</span><br></p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + +<p>The children, released from the dull strain of watching the clock, sang +with spirit. Hester played on, inattentive to the words. At the end, +without considering what she did, she pressed down the chords of the +'Amen,' and the singers joined in, all unaware of transgressing.</p> + +<p>In the silence that followed she suddenly remembered her instructions to +omit the word, and sat for a moment flushed and confused. But the deed +was done. The children stood shuffling their feet, awaiting the signal of +dismissal.</p> + +<p>"You may go," she said. "We will do better to-morrow."</p> + +<p>When their voices had died away down the road she closed the harmonium +softly, and fell to walking to and fro, musing, tidying up the schoolroom +by fits and starts. She wanted to sit down and have a good cry; but +always as the tears came near to flowing she fell to work afresh and +checked them. Not until the room looked neat again did she remember that +she was hungry. Nuncey had cooked a pasty for her, and she fetched it +from the cupboard, where it lay in a basket covered by a spotless white +cloth. As she did so, her eyes fell on a damp spot on the floor, where, +after bandaging Mr. Sam, she had carefully washed out the stain of his +blood.</p> + +<p>She looked at her hands. They were clean; and yet having set down the +basket on the desk, and turned her stool so that she might not see the +spot on the floor, she continued to stare at them, and from them to the +white cloth. A while she stood thus, irresolute, still listening to the +bees zooming against the pane. Then with a sudden effort of will she +walked out and across the yard, to the pump in the far corner.</p> + +<p>She was stooping to raise the pump handle, but straightened herself up +again at the sound—as it seemed to her—of a muffled sob.</p> + +<p>She looked behind her and around. The playground was empty, the air +across its gravelled surface quivering under the noonday heat. +She listened.</p> + +<p>Two long minutes passed before the sound was repeated; and this time she +knew it for the sob of a child. It came from behind an angle of the +building which hid a strip of the playground from view. She ran thither +at once, and as she turned the corner her eyes fell on little Clem.</p> + +<p>She had missed him from his place when the children returned to the +schoolroom. His sister, she supposed, had taken him home.</p> + +<p>He stood sentry now in the shade under the north wall of the building. +He stood there so resolutely that, for the instant, Hester could scarcely +believe the sobs had come from him. But he had heard her coming; and the +face he turned to her, though tearless, was woefully twisted and +twitching.</p> + +<p>"My poor child!"</p> + +<p>He stretched out both hands.</p> + +<p>"Where is Myra? I want Myra, please!"</p> + + +<br><br> +<p><a name = "15"></a> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XV.</h3> + +<h4>MYRA IN DISGRACE.</h4> + +<p>Myra was in her bedroom, under lock and key; and this is how it had +happened.</p> + +<p>"What put it into your head to make that speech?" asked Mrs. Purchase, as +she and Mr. Sam wended their way back to Hall. In form the question was +addressed to her nephew; in tone, to herself.</p> + +<p>Mr. Sam paused as if for breath, and plucking down a wisp of honeysuckle +from the hedgerow, sniffed at it to gain time.</p> + +<p>"I don't like talking about such things," he answered; "but it came into +my head to do my Master's bidding: 'Bless them that curse you, do good to +them that hate you, and pray for them that despitefully use you.'"</p> + +<p>"Fiddlestick-end!" said Mrs. Purchase.</p> + +<p>"I assure you—"</p> + +<p>"If you don't mean to get upsides with Tom Trevarthen, I'm a Dutchman. +'Forgive your enemies' may be gospel teaching, but I never knew a +Rosewarne to practise it. You're a clever fellow, nephew Sam, and that +speech saved your face, as the Yankees say; but somehow I've a notion its +cleverness didn't end there. I saw the schoolmistress watching you—did +she put you up to it?"</p> + +<p>"I don't mind telling you that she had interceded with me."</p> + +<p>"I like the cut of that girl's jib," Mrs. Purchase announced after a +pause. "She's good-looking, and she has pluck. But I don't take back +what I said, that it's a wrong you're doing to Clem and Myra, putting them +to school with all the riff-raff of the parish."</p> + +<p>"That's the kind of objection one learns to expect from a Radical," her +nephew answered drily.</p> + +<p>"'Tis a queer thing, now," she mused, "that ever since I married 'Siah the +family will have me to be a Radical; and 'tis the queerer, because ne'er +one of 'ee knows what a Radical is or ought to be. S'pose I do hold that +all mankind and all womankind has equal rights under the Lord—that don't +mean they're all alike, do it? or that I can't tell a man from a woman, or +my lord from a scavenger? D'ee reckon that we'm all-fellows-to-football +aboard the <i>Virtuous Lady</i>, and the fo'c'sle hands mess aft?"</p> + +<p>"They would if you were consistent," answered Mr. Sam, with positiveness.</p> + +<p>She sighed impatiently. "There's times you make me long to wring your +stiff neck. But I'll take your own consistency, as you call it. +I don't notice you send that precious boy o' yourn to the Board School; +and yet if 'tis good enough for Clem and Myra, 'tis good enough for any +Rosewarne."</p> + +<p>"Calvin has received a superior education. Yet I don't mind telling you +that, if I find Miss Marvin competent, I propose asking her to teach him +privately."</p> + +<p>"O—oh!" Mrs. Purchase pursed up her lips and eyed him askance. +"Such a nice-looking girl, too!"</p> + +<p>Mr. Sam flushed beneath his sallow skin. He was about to command her +angrily to mind her own business, when the air between the hedgerows, and +even the road beneath his feet, shook with a dull and distant detonation.</p> + +<p>"Sakes alive!" cried Mrs. Purchase. "Don't tell me that's the +powder-ship, up the river!"</p> + +<p>"It didn't come up from the river—it came from Hall!" He gripped her arm +with sudden excitement; then, as she began to protest, "Don't talk, woman, +but help me along! It came from Hall, I tell you!"</p> + +<br><br> +<p>Master Calvin defied Myra bravely enough while she threatened, and even +while she piled a little heap of gunpowder under the sycamore and +ostentatiously sprinkled a train of it across the roadway. He supposed +that she intended only to frighten him.</p> + +<p>Nor would any mischief have happened had he kept his perch. The heap of +gunpowder was too small to do serious damage—though he may well be +excused for misdoubting this. But when Myra struck a match and challenged +him for the last time, he called to her not to play the fool, and began to +scramble down for dear life. In truth, for two or three minutes he had +been feeling strangely giddy, and to make matters worse, was suddenly +conscious of a horrible burning pain in his side.</p> + +<p>So intolerable was the pain, that he clutched at it with one hand; and +missing his hold with the other, slipped and hung dangling over the +powder, supported only by the bough under the crook of his armpit. +At that instant, while he struggled to recover his balance, Myra was +horrified to see smoke curling about his jacket; a fiery shred of tobacco +and jacket-lining dropped from his plucking fingers. She had flung away +her match and was running forward—the burning stuff fell so slowly, there +was almost time to catch it—when the ground at her feet leapt up with a +flame and a bang, and Master Calvin thudded down upon the explosion.</p> + +<p>She ran to him. He was not dead, for at once he began screaming at the +pitch of his voice; but his features were black, his smallclothes torn, +and his legs writhed in a terrifying way. His screams sank to groans as +she beat out the smouldering fire in his jacket-lining; and for a while +she could get no other answer from him. By and by she lost patience, and +shook him by the shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Oh, get Up for goodness' sake! I believe you're more frightened than +hurt; but if you're really hurt, sit up and tell me what's the matter."</p> + +<p>"Let me alone," groaned Calvin. "I want to die."</p> + +<p>"Fiddlesticks—'want to die'! Come along to the pump and wash yourself."</p> + +<p>"You're a wicked girl! You tried to kill me!"</p> + +<p>"I didn't. I wanted to frighten you, and—and I'm sorry; but you fired +the powder yourself with your nasty pipe, and you've burnt a hole in your +pocket. You'd best come along and get washed and changed before your +father catches you. It looks to me you've lost one of your eyebrows, but +the other one's so pale I daresay 'twon't be noticed. Or I might give you +a pair with a piece of burnt cork."</p> + +<p>It was while she stood considering this that Mr. Sam and her aunt made +their appearance round the corner of the road.</p> + +<p>"Whatever in the round world have you children been doin'?" panted Mrs. +Purchase, and wound up with a gasp at sight of Calvin's face.</p> + +<p>"I believe I'm going to die!" The boy began to writhe again.</p> + +<p>"What has happened?" his father demanded, with a shake in the voice, +stooping to lift him.</p> + +<p>"She—she tried to kill me!" Calvin pointed at her with vindictive finger, +and at once clasped both hands over his stomach.</p> + +<p>"I did not," retorted Myra.</p> + +<p>"Ask her who brought the powder and laid a train right under me! Ask her +what she's doing with that box of matches!"</p> + +<p>"Is that true?" Mr. Sam demanded again, straightening himself up and +fixing a terrible stare on Myra.</p> + +<p>The girl's face hardened. "Yes, I brought the powder." She pointed to +the flask lying in the roadway.</p> + +<p>"You dare to tell me that you did this deliberately?"</p> + +<p>"I never did it at all."</p> + +<p>"Yes, she did!" almost screamed the boy. "She put the powder here; she +owns up to it."</p> + +<p>Myra shrugged her shoulders and turned away. "Very well; he's telling a +nasty fib, but you can believe him if you like."</p> + +<p>"Stop a minute, miss." Mr. Sam strode across to her. "You don't get off +in that fashion, I promise you!"</p> + +<p>She looked up at him sidewise, under lowered brows. "Are you going to +beat me?" she asked quietly.</p> + +<p>The question took Mr. Sam aback. "You deserve a whipping if ever a girl +did," he answered, after a second or two. "First, it seems, you almost +succeed in killing your cousin, and then you tell a falsehood about it."</p> + +<p>"I have told you the truth. I put the powder there. As for meaning to +kill him, that's nonsense, and he knows it. I didn't even mean to hurt +him, though he deserves it."</p> + +<p>"Deserves it!" echoed Mr. Sam.</p> + +<p>"Yes, for robbing Clem."</p> + +<p>"Sam—Sam!" Mrs. Purchase thrust herself between them. "What's the +matter? Don't go for to hurt the child!"</p> + +<p>"What—what does she mean, then?" He had stretched out a hand to grip +Myra by the shoulder, but fell back with a yellow face.</p> + +<p>"Tom Trevarthen told me." Myra pointed from father to son. "He says +you're no better than a pair of robbers."</p> + +<p>"Myra," said her aunt quietly, "go to your room at once. On your own +confession you have done wickedly, and must be punished."</p> + +<p>"Very well, Aunt Hannah."</p> + +<p>"I must attend to Calvin first; but I will come to you by and by. +Until then you are not to leave your room. Do you understand?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Aunt Hannah."</p> + +<p>She turned and walked towards the house.</p> + +<p>"And now," said Mrs. Purchase, after a glance at Mr. Sam's face, +"let's see what bones are broken."</p> + +<p>She bent over Calvin, but looked up almost immediately, as Mr. Sam uttered +a sharp exclamation.</p> + +<p>"What's this?" he asked, stooping to pick up a briar pipe.</p> + +<p>Master Calvin blinked, and turned his head aside from Mrs. Purchase's +curious gaze.</p> + +<p>"I think it belongs to Tom Trevarthen," he mumbled.</p> + +<p>"How on the airth did Tom Trevarthen come to drop a pipe here, and walk +off 'ithout troubling to pick it up? If 'twas a hairpin, now," said Mrs. +Purchase, not very lucidly, "one could understand it."</p> + +<p>"I—I'm going to be ill," wailed the wretched Calvin, with a spasmodic +heave of the shoulders.</p> + +<p>"Well," his aunt commented grimly after a moment, "you told the truth that +time, anyway."</p> + +<br><br> +<p>Having conveyed him to the house and put him, with Susannah's help, to +bed, Aunt Hannah went off to Myra's room, but descended after a few +minutes in search of Mr. Sam, whom she found pacing the garden walk.</p> + +<p>"Well?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"I've told her the punishment—bread and water, and to keep her room all +day. She says nothing against it, and I think she's sorry about the +powder; but I can get no sense into her until her mind's set at rest about +Clem."</p> + +<p>"What about him?"</p> + +<p>"Why, the poor child's left behind at the school."</p> + +<p>"Is that all? Miss Marvin will bring him home, no doubt."</p> + +<p>"So I told her. But it seems she don't trust Miss Marvin—hates her, in +fact."</p> + +<p>"The child must be crazed."</p> + +<p>"Couldn't you send Peter Benny?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, certainly, if you wish it." Mr. Sam went indoors to the +counting-house, where Mr. Benny jumped up from his desk in alarm at sight +of the bandages.</p> + +<p>"Mercy on us, sir—you have met with an accident?"</p> + +<p>"A trifle. Are you busy just now?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Benny blushed. "I might answer in your words sir—a trifle. +Indeed, I hope, sir, you will not think it a liberty; but the late Mr. +Rosewarne used very kindly to allow it when no business happened to be +doing."</p> + +<p>His employer stared at him blankly.</p> + +<p>"On birthdays and such occasions," pursued Mr. Benny. "And by the way, +sir, might I ask you to favour me with the date of your birthday? +Your dear father's was the 28th of May." Mr. Sam's stare lost its +blankness, and became one of sharp suspicion.</p> + +<p>"What have you to do with my birthday, pray?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing, sir—nothing, unless it pleases you. Some of our best and +greatest men, sir, as I am well aware—the late Duke of Wellington, for +instance—have had a distaste for poetry; not that my verses deserve any +such name."</p> + +<p>"Oh!" said Mr. Sam, his brow clearing, "you were talking of verses? +I've no objection, so long as you don't ask me to read them." He paused, +as Mr. Benny's face lengthened dejectedly. "I mean no reflection on +yours, Benny."</p> + +<p>"I thank you, sir."</p> + +<p>"Shakespeare—and I am told you can't get better poetry than +Shakespeare's—doesn't please me at all. I tried him once, on a friend's +recommendation, and came on a passage which I don't hesitate to call +lascivious. I told my friend so, and advised him to be more careful in +the reading he recommended. He was a minister of the gospel, too. +I destroyed the book: one can't be too careful, with children about the +house."</p> + +<p>"I assure you, sir—"</p> + +<p>"I don't suggest for a moment that you would be guilty of any such +expressions as Shakespeare uses. We live in a different age. +Still, poetry, as such, gives me no pleasure. I believe very firmly, +Benny—as you may have gathered—in another world, and that we shall be +held strictly to account there for all we do or say in this one."</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"If you will wait a moment, I have a note to write. You will deliver it, +please, to Mrs. Trevarthen on your way home. But first I wish you to walk +up to the school and fetch Master Clem."</p> + +<p>Mr. Benny, absorbed in poetical composition, had either failed to hear the +explosion at the gate, or had heard and paid no heed to it. He wondered +why Master Clem should need to be fetched from school.</p> + +<p>"And Miss Myra?" he suggested.</p> + +<p>"Miss Myra has been sent to her room in disgrace," said Mr. Sam.</p> + +<p>Mr. Benny asked no further questions, but pocketed the letter which Mr. +Sam indited, and fetched his hat. As it happened, however, at the gate he +met Hester leading Clem by the hand; and receiving the child from her, +handed him over to Susannah.</p> + +<p>"You are going home?" he asked, as he rejoined Hester at the gate. +They were already warm friends.</p> + +<p>"I am on my way. And you?"</p> + +<p>"We'll cross the ferry together, if you'll wait a moment while I deliver a +note at Mrs. Trevarthen's."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Trevarthen was at her door. She took the note, and, before opening +it, looked at Hester curiously.</p> + +<p>"You know what's inside of it, I reckon?" she said, turning to Mr. Benny.</p> + +<p>"Not a word."</p> + +<p>"My eyes are bad," said Mrs. Trevarthen, who, as a matter of fact, could +not read.</p> + +<p>Mr. Benny knew this, and knew also that Mrs. Trevarthen as a rule employed +Aunt Butson to write her few letters and decipher the few that came to +her.</p> + +<p>"The light's bad for the time of year," he said. "Shall I read it for +you, missus?"</p> + +<p>"No; let <i>her</i> read it," answered the old woman, holding out the letter to +Hester. Hester took it and read—</p> + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p class = "noindent">"Madam,—This is to inform you that the rent of my cottage, at present + occupied by you on a monthly tenancy at £9 per annum, will from + the first of next month be raised to £15 per annum; also that + the tenancy will not, after that date, carry with it a permission to + let lodgings.—Yours truly, S. ROSEWARNE."</p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + +<p>In the silence that followed Mrs. Trevarthen fixed her bright beady eyes +steadily on Hester. "You've driven forth my son from me," she said at +length, "and you're driving forth my lodger, and there's nobbut the +almshouse left. Never a day's worry has my son Tom given to me, and never +a ha'p'orth o' harm have we done to you. A foreigner you are and a +stranger; the lad made me promise not to curse 'ee, and I won't. But get +out of my sight, and the Lord deliver us from temptation!—Amen."</p> + +<p>Poor Mr. Benny, who had written half a dozen enthusiastic verses on the +opening of the new school, crushed them down in his pocket. He had been +so proud of them, too!</p> + +<p>They ran—</p> + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p class = "noindent">"This morning the weather was wreathèd in smiles.<br> +<span class = "ind3">And we, correspondingly gay,</span><br> + Assembled together from several miles<br> +<span class = "ind3">To welcome our Opening Day."</span><br><br> + + "The children were plastic in body and mind.<br> +<span class = "ind3">Their faces and pinafores clean;</span><br> + And persons scholastic, in accents refined.<br> +<span class = "ind3">With eloquence pointed the scene."</span><br><br> + + "Blest scene! as its features we fondly recall,<br> +<span class = "ind3">Come let us give thanks to the Lord!</span><br> + The Parents, the Teacher, the Managers all,<br> +<span class = "ind3">Including the Clerk to the Board!"</span><br></p> +</blockquote></blockquote> +<br><br><br> + + +<h2>BOOK III.</h2> + + +<br><br> +<p><a name = "16"></a> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XVI.</h3> + +<h4>AUNT BUTSON CLOSES SCHOOL.</h4> + +<p>Next morning when Hester arrived at the school she found Mr. Sam waiting +for her, with Myra, Clem, and a lanky, freckled youth of about sixteen, +whom he introduced as Archelaus Libby. She could not help a smile at this +odd name, and the young man himself seemed to be conscious of its +absurdity. He blushed, held out his hand and withdrew it again, dropped +his hat and caught it awkwardly between his knees. Myra (who had made the +sign of the cross as Hester entered) stood and regarded him with a cold, +contemptuous interest. Her uncle presented the poor fellow with a +proprietary wave of the hand, as though he had been a dumb animal recently +purchased.</p> + +<p>"I telegraphed to Liskeard on my own responsibility. The Managers may +take me to task; but I felt it to be imperative that you should have a +male teacher to support you, and at once. At all costs we must prevent a +repetition of such scenes as yesterday's."</p> + +<p>Doubtless he had done Hester a service, and she tried to express her +thanks, but did not succeed very well. To begin with, her spirit being +roused, she desired no help; and to judge by Mr. Archelaus Libby's looks, +the help he could give promised to be ineffective. She did not say this, +of course; and he gazed at her so wistfully that she reproached herself +for thinking it.</p> + +<p>Mr. Sam had no such scruples. "I telegraphed to Liskeard," he repeated. +"There was no time for a personal interview." (He paused, with a +deprecating wave of the hand, as who shall say, "And this is what they +sent.") "If," he continued, "you find him unequal to maintaining +discipline, we—ha—must take other steps. In other respects I find him +satisfactory. He tells me he is of the Baptist persuasion, a believer in +Total Immersion."</p> + +<p>Hester saw Myra's mouth twitching. She herself broke into merry laughter.</p> + +<p>"I hope it won't be necessary to go that length," she answered. +"We will do our best, at any rate." She held out her hand again, and +Archelaus Libby grasped it warmly.</p> + +<br><br> +<p>On the whole, Archelaus Libby's best proved to be better than she had +expected. The boys made a butt of him from the beginning, but could get +no real advantage over one who laughed with them at his own discomfitures. +He belonged to those meek ones who (it is promised) shall inherit the +earth; and indeed, as the possessor of a two-guinea microscope—bought, as +he explained to Hester, with his first earnings—he believed himself to +inherit it already. This microscope, and the wonders he showed them under +it, earned no little respect from the children. Also he had, without +being aware of it, an extraordinary gift of mental arithmetic, and would +rattle out the quotients of long compound division sums at alarming speed +and with a rapid clicking sound at the back of his throat, as though some +preternatural machinery were at work there. But most of all he conquered +by sheer love of his kind and of every living creature. The lad seemed to +brim over with love: he never arrived at forgiving anyone, being incapable +of believing that anyone meant to offend. From the first he yielded to +Hester a canine devotion which was inconvenient because it rendered him +dumb.</p> + +<p>Within a week Hester felt sure of herself and of the school, and confided +her joy to Mr. Benny, who always met her at the ferry and accompanied her +home to tea; for she was now installed as a lodger with the Benny +household, greatly to Nuncey's delight. After tea Mr. Benny always +withdrew to a little office overhanging the tideway; a wooden, felt-roofed +shed in which he earned money from 6.30 to 8.30 p.m. by writing letters +for seamen. In this interval the two girls walked or bathed, returning in +time to put the children to bed and help Mrs. Benny with the supper. +They talked much, but seldom about the school—all the cares of which +Hester left behind her at the ferry crossing.</p> + +<p>"And that's what I like about you," Nuncey confided. "You don't give +yourself airs like other schoolmistresses."</p> + +<p>"How many others do you know?" asked Hester.</p> + +<p>"None; but I know what I'm talkin' about. You know more about poetry and +such-like than Dad; I daresay you know as much as Uncle Josh; and yet no +one would think it, to look at you."</p> + +<p>"Thank you." Hester dropped her a curtsey. "And who is Uncle Josh?"</p> + +<p>"He's Dad's brother, and well known in London. I believe he writes for +the papers; 'connected with the press'—that's how Dad puts it. +When Dad writes a poem he hasn't time to polish it; so he sends it up to +Uncle Josh, and it comes back beautifully polished by return of post. +Now do you know what I want?" asked Nuncey, falling back and eyeing her.</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"Guess."</p> + +<p>"Really I can't." Hester knew by this time that Nuncey's thoughts moved +without apparent connection.</p> + +<p>"I want to see you out of mourning—well, in half-mourning, then. +It ought to be pale grey, and there's a lilac ribbon in Bonaday's shop at +this moment. You needn't pretend you don't care about these things, for +I know better."</p> + +<p>After supper, and on their way to and from the ferry, Mr. Benny would talk +readily enough about the school. But on one point—the tribulation it was +bringing upon Aunt Butson—he kept silence; for the thought of it made him +unhappy. He knew that Hester was innocent, but he could not wholly acquit +himself of complicity in the poor old woman's fate. Mr. Benny had a +troublesome and tender conscience in all matters that concerned his duty +towards his neighbour. The School Board was driving Mrs. Butson out of +employ, taking away her scanty earnings; and he was Clerk to the School +Board. To be sure, if he resigned to-morrow, another man would take his +place, and Mrs. Butson be not one penny the better. Mr. Benny saw this, +yet it did not ease his conscience wholly.</p> + +<p>Hester, too, kept silence. Her way to the school led her past the little +shanty (originally a carpenter's workshop) in which Aunt Butson taught. +It stood a stone's-throw back from the village street, partly concealed by +a clump of elms; but once or twice she had heard and spied children at +play between the trees there—children with faces unfamiliar to her—and +gathered that the old woman still kept her door open. As the days went by +the date for raising Mrs. Trevarthen's rent, and the cottage still showed +every sign of habitation, she took it for granted that Mr. Sam had +relented—possibly in obedience to his promise not to persecute the young +sailor. She did not know that, in serving his notice without consulting +Peter Benny, Mr. Sam had made a trifling mistake; that Mrs. Trevarthen +held her cottage on a quarterly tenancy, and could neither have her rent +raised nor be evicted before Michaelmas. Hester would have been puzzled +to say precisely what sealed her lips from inquiry. Partly, no doubt, she +shrank from discovering a fresh obligation to Mr. Sam, whose unctuous +handshake she was learning to detest. Tom Trevarthen had disappeared. +His mother kept house unmolested. Why not let sleeping dogs lie? +For the rest, the school absorbed most of her thoughts, and paid back +interest in cheerfulness. The children were beginning to show signs of +loyalty, and a teacher who has won loyalty has won everything. Myra alone +stood aloof, sullen, impervious to kindness.</p> + +<p>In truth, Myra was suffering. For the first time in their lives her will +and Clem's had come into conflict; and Clem's revealed itself as +unexpectedly, almost hopelessly, stubborn. That the <i>Virtuous Lady</i> had +sailed for Quebec, carrying away Aunt Hannah, the one other person in the +world who understood her, made little difference. A hundred Aunt Hannahs +could not console her for this loss—for a loss she called it. +"The woman is taking him from me!" She cried the words aloud to herself +on her lonely walks, making the cattle in the fields, the horses in the +stable, the small greyhound, even the fields and trees, confidants in her +woe. "She is stealing you from me," she reproached Clem; "and you can't +see that she is a witch! You don't love me any longer!" "I love you +better than ever," protested poor Clem. "No, you don't, or you would +choose between us. Say 'I hate her!'" But Clem shook his head. +"I don't hate her; and besides, she isn't a witch."</p> + +<p>She had been forbidden to speak to Calvin for a week. "My dear man," she +answered Mr. Sam, to his no small astonishment, "do you think <i>I</i> want to +talk to the pimply creature? He tells fibs; and besides, he's a robber."</p> + +<p>"You are a wicked child; and if you persist in this talk, I shall have to +punish you."</p> + +<p>"Are you going to beat me? Beat away. But it's true."</p> + +<p>He did not beat her; but one day, meeting Hester on the hill as she walked +to school, he went so far as to suggest that Myra's spirit needed taming. +She had been allowed to run loose, and her behaviour at home caused him +many searchings of heart. He made no doubt that her behaviour in school +was scarcely more satisfactory.</p> + +<p>Hester admitted that he surmised correctly.</p> + +<p>He had never been blessed with a daughter of his own, and hardly knew what +to do with an unruly girl. Might he leave the matter in Miss Marvin's +hands?</p> + +<p>"If," said Hester, "you are speaking of her behaviour in school, you +certainly may. She is jealous, poor child, because her brother has taken +a fancy to be fond of me. In her place I should be furious. But I think +we are going to be friends."</p> + +<p>"Some form of punishment—if I might suggest—"</p> + +<p>"I don't know of any that meets the case," Hester answered gravely.</p> + +<p>"I have often,"—he fastened on her that gaze of his which she most of all +disliked—"I have oftentimes, of late especially, felt even Calvin to be a +responsibility, without a mother's care." He went on from this to the +suggestion he had hinted to Mrs. Purchase. Would Miss Marvin be prepared +(for an honorarium) to give his son private lessons? Could she afford the +time? "I shrink from exposing him to influences, so often malign, of a +boarding-school. What I should most of all desire for him is a steady, +sympathetic home influence, a—may I say it?—a motherly influence."</p> + +<p>Hester at this moment, averting her eyes, was aware of an old woman a few +yards away, coming up the road; a woman erect as a soldier, with strong, +almost mannish features, and eyes that glared at her fiercely from under a +washed-out blue sunbonnet. Mr. Sam gave her good-morning as she went by, +but she neither answered nor seemed to hear him.</p> + +<p>"Who is she?" Hester had almost asked, when the woman turned aside into a +path leading to the shed among the elms.</p> + +<p>"She'll have to shut up shop next week," said Mr. Sam, following Hester's +gaze. "I declare, Miss Marvin, one would think the old woman had +ill-wished you, by the way you are staring after her. Don't believe in +witchcraft, I hope?"</p> + +<p>"I have never seen her till now, and I do feel sorry for her."</p> + +<p>"She's not fit to teach, and never was."</p> + +<p>"She's setting me a lesson in punctuality, at any rate," said Hester, +forcing a little laugh, glad of an excuse to end the conversation. +But along the road and at intervals during the first and second +lesson-hours the face of Mrs. Butson haunted her.</p> + +<p>In the hour before dinner, while she sat among the little ones correcting +their copy-books, the door-latch clicked, and she looked up with a start— +to see the woman herself standing upon the threshold! Archelaus Libby, +who had been chalking on the blackboard at lightning speed a line of +figures for his mental arithmetic class, turned to announce them, and +paused with a click in his throat which seemed to answer that of the +latch. In the sudden hush Hester felt her cheek paling. Somehow she +missed the courage with which she had met Tom Trevarthen.</p> + +<p>"Good-morning!" said Mrs. Butson harshly. "'Tisn't forbidden to come in, +I hope?"</p> + +<p>"Good-morning," Hester found voice to answer. "You may come in, and +welcome, if you wish us well."</p> + +<p>"I'm Sarah Butson. As for wishing well or ill to 'ee, we'll leave that +alone. I've come to listen, not to interrup'." She advanced into the +room and pointed a finger at Archelaus Libby. "Is that your male teacher? +He bain't much to look at, but I'm told he's terrible for sums."</p> + +<p>"You shall judge for yourself. Go on with your lesson, Archelaus; and +you, Mrs. Butson, take a seat if you will."</p> + +<p>"No; I'll stand." Mrs. Butson shut her jaws firmly and treated the small +scholars around her to a fierce, unwavering stare. Many winced, +remembering her mercies of old. "Go on, young man," she commanded +Archelaus.</p> + +<p>He plunged into figures again, nervously at first. Soon he recovered his +volubility, and, calling on one of the elder boys to name two rows of +figures for division, wrote them out and dashed down the quotient; then +flung in the working at top speed, showing how the quotient was obtained; +next rubbed out all but the original divisor and dividend, and, swinging +round upon the boys, raced them through the sum, his throat clicking as he +appealed from one boy to another, urging them to answer faster and faster +yet. "Yes, yes—but try to multiply in double figures—twice sixteen, +thirty-two: it's no harder than four times eight—the tables don't really +stop at twelve times. Now then—seventy-eight into three-twenty-six? +You—you—you—what's that, Sunny Pascoe? Four times? Right—how many +over? Fourteen. Now then, bring down the next figure, and that makes the +new dividend."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Butson passed her hand over Hester's desk. "You keep 'em well +dusted," she observed, turning her back upon Archelaus and his +calculations. Her angry-looking eyes travelled over desks, floor, walls, +and the maps upon the walls, then back to the children.</p> + +<p>"How many?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"We have sixty-eight on the books."</p> + +<p>"How many here to-day?"</p> + +<p>"Sixty-six. There are two absent, with certificates. Would you like me +to call the roll?"</p> + +<p>"No. You've got 'em in hand, too, I see." She picked up a copy-book from +the desk before her, examined it for a moment, and laid it down. +"You like this work?" she asked, turning her eyes suddenly upon Hester.</p> + +<p>"How else could one do it at all?"</p> + +<p>"I hate it—yes, hate it," the old woman went on. "Though 'twas my +living, I've hated it always. Yet I taught 'em well—you cross the ferry +and ask schoolmaster Penrose if I did not. I taught 'em well; but you +beat me—fair and square you do. Only there'll come a time—I warn you— +when the hope and pride'll die out of you, and you'll wake an' wonder how +to live out the day. I don't know much, but I know that time must come to +all teachers. They never can tell when 'tis coming. After some holiday, +belike, it catches 'em sudden. The new lot of children be no worse than +the last, but they get treated worse because the teacher's come to end of +tether. You take my advice and marry before that time comes."</p> + +<p>"I don't think I shall ever marry."</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, you will!" Aunt Butson's eyes seemed to burn into Hester's. +"You're driving me out to work in the fields; but, marry or not, you'll +give me all the revenge I look for." The old woman hunched her shoulders +and made abruptly for the door. As it slammed behind her a weight seemed +to fall upon Hester's heart and a sudden shadow across her day.</p> + +<br><br> +<p>Down in the little cottage Aunt Butson found Mrs. Trevarthen standing +beside a half-filled packing-case and contemplating a pair of enormous +china spaniels which adorned the chimney-piece, one on either side of +Chinese junk crusted with sea-shells.</p> + +<p>"What's to be done with 'em?" Mrs. Trevarthen asked. "They'll take up +more room than they're worth, and I doubt they'll fetch next to nothing if +I leave 'em behind for the sale. My old man got 'em off a pedlar fellow +for two-and-threepence apiece, back-along when we first set up house. +A terrible extravagance, as I told 'en at the time; but he took such a +fancy to the things, I never had the heart to say what I thought about +their looks."</p> + +<p>"You can leave 'em bide," answered Aunt Butson. "Unpack that there case +agen an' turn it over to me. I'm goin' to quit."</p> + +<p>"There's too much red-tape about the Widows' Houses," Mrs. Trevarthen +pursued. "The Matron says, if I want to bring Tom's parrot, I must speak +to Sir George an get leave: 'tis agen the rules, seemingly."</p> + +<p>"Be quiet with your parrot, an' listen to me! I'm goin' to shut up +school, an' quit. Go an' make your peace wi' that Judas Rosewarne: tell +'en you're gettin' the rids of me, an' he'll let you down easy enough."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Trevarthen for a moment did not seem to hear, but stood meditatively +fingering the china ornaments. Suddenly she swung round upon her lodger.</p> + +<p>"You're goin' to give in? After all your talk, you're goin' to let that +slave-driver ride roughshod over you?"</p> + +<p>"My dear,"—Aunt Butson hunched her shoulders—"'tis no manner of good. +Who's goin' to pay me tuppence a week, when that smooth-featured girl up +the hill teaches ten times better for a penny? I've been up there to see, +and I ben't a fool. She teaches ten times better than ever I did in my +life. How many children do 'ee think turned up this mornin'? Five. +And I've taught five-an'-thirty at one time. I sent 'em away; told 'em to +come again to-morrow, and take word to their fathers and mothers to step +around at twelve o'clock. They'll think 'tis to come to an arrangement +about the fees; but what I have to tell is that the school's wound up."</p> + +<p>"You may do as it pleases you, Sally Butson. You may go, if you choose, +and ask Rosewarne to put his foot on your neck. But if you think I make +any terms with 'en, you're mistaken. He've a-driven my Tom from home an' +employ; he've a-cast a good son out o' my sight and knowledge, and fo'ced +'en, for all I know, into wicked courses—for Tom's like his father before +'en; you can lead 'en by a thread, but against ill-usage he'll turn mad. +Will I forgive Rosewarne for this? He may put out the fire in my grate +and fling my bed into the street, and I'll laugh and call it a little +thing; but for what he've a-done to the son of a widow I'll put on him the +curse of a widow, and not all his wrath shall buy it off by an ounce or +shorten it by one inch."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Trevarthen—ordinarily a mild-tempered woman—shook with her passion +as an aspen shakes and whitens in the wind. Aunt Butson laid a hand on +her shoulder.</p> + +<p>"There—there! Put on the kettle, my dear, and let's have a drink of tea. +It takes a woman different when she've a-got children. But it don't +follow, because I'm a single woman, I can't read a lad's fortune. +You mark my words, Tom'll fall on his feet."</p> + +<br><br> +<p>Early next morning Mrs. Butson left the cottage with a small pile of +books, disinterred from the depths of the box which contained all her +belongings—cheap books in gaudy covers of red, blue, and green cloth, +lavishly gilded without, execrably printed within: <i>The Wide, Wide World; +Caspar; Poor John, or Nature's Gentleman; The Parents' Assistant</i>. +Her system of education recognised merit, but rewarded it sparingly. +As a rule, she had distributed three prizes per annum, before the +Christmas holidays, and at a total cost of two shillings and sixpence. +To-day she spread out no fewer than ten upon her desk, covering them out +of sight with a duster before her scholars arrived.</p> + +<p>A few minutes before nine she heard them at play outside among the elms, +and at nine o'clock punctually called them in to work by ringing her +handbell—the clapper of which (vain extravagance!) had recently been +shortened by the village tinsmith to prevent its wearing the metal +unequally. Five scholars answered its summons—'Thaniel Langmaid, Maudie +Hosken, Ivy Nancarrow, Jane Ann Toy and her four-year-old brother Luke. +Their fathers, one and all, though dwelling in the village, were employed +in trades on the other side of the ferry, and therefore could risk +offending Mr. Rosewarne; but their independence had not yet translated +itself into steady payment of the fees, and Mr. Toy (for example) +notoriously practised dilatoriness of payment as part of his scheme of +life.</p> + +<p>Without a twitch of her fierce features she ranged up her attenuated +class, distributed the well-thumbed books—with a horn-book for little +Luke Toy—and for two hours taught them with the same joyless severity +under which their fathers and mothers had suffered. For spelling 'lamb' +without the final b, Ivy Nancarrow underwent the punishment invariably +meted out for such errors—mounted the dunce's bench, and wore the dunce's +cap; nor did 'Thaniel Langmaid's knuckles escape the ruler when he dropped +a blot upon his copy, 'Comparisons are Odious'—a proposition of which he +understood the meaning not at all. The cane and the birch-rod on Mrs. +Butson's desk served her now but as insignia. She had not wielded them as +weapons of justice since the day (four years ago) when a struggle with Ivy +Nancarrow's elder brother had taught her that her natural strength was +abating.</p> + +<p>At twelve o'clock she told the children to close their books, dismissed +them to play, and sat down to await the invited company.</p> + +<p>Mr. Toy was the first to arrive. He came straight from the jetties—that +is to say, as straight as a stevedore can be expected to come at noon on +Saturday, after receiving his week's pay. He wore his accustomed mask of +clay-dust, and smelt powerfully of beer, two pints of which he had +consumed in an unsocial hurry at the Ferry Inn on his way.</p> + +<p>"Good-morning." Mrs. Butson welcomed him with a nod. "Your wife is +coming, I hope?"</p> + +<p>"You bet she is," Mr. Toy answered cheerfully, smacking the coins in his +trousers pocket. "She don't miss looking me up this day of the week." +Recollecting that certain of the shillings he so lightly jingled were due +to Mrs. Butson, he suddenly grew confused, and his embarrassment was not +lightened by the entrance of Maudie Hosken's parents. Mr. Hosken tilled a +small freehold garden in his spare hours, and Mr. Toy owed him four +shillings and sixpence for potatoes, and had reason to believe that Mrs. +Hosken took a stern view of the debt.</p> + +<p>Next came Mrs. Langmaid, a seaman's widow, and lastly Mrs. Toy, who noted +that all the others had made themselves tidy for the ceremony, and at once +began to apologise for her husband's appearance.</p> + +<p>Aunt Butson cut her short, however, by ringing the school bell, and +marshalling her five pupils back to their seats. The parents dropped +themselves here and there among the many empty benches in the rear, and +the schoolmistress, after rapping the desk with her cane, from force of +habit, mounted the platform, uncovered the row of books, and began to +arrange them with hands that trembled a little.</p> + +<p>"Friends and neighbours, the reason I've called 'ee together is for a +prize-giving. I'll have to say a word or two when that's done; but just +now a prize-giving it is, and we'd best get to business. Girls: Maudie +Hosken, first prize for good conduct; Ivy Nancarrow, consolation prize, +ditto; Jane Ann Toy, extra consolation prize, ditto. Step up, girls, and +take your books."</p> + +<p>Until Mrs. Hosken leaned forward and nudged her daughter in the back, the +children did not budge, so bewildered were they by these sudden awards. +When Maudie, however, picked up courage, the other two bravely bore her +company, and each received a book.</p> + +<p>"Boys: 'Thaniel Langmaid, first prize for good conduct; Luke Toy, +consolation prize for ditto."</p> + +<p>"Seemin' to me," remarked Mr. Toy audibly, nudging his wife, "there's a +deal o' consolation for our small family."</p> + +<p>"Hush!" answered his wife. "There's as much gilt 'pon Lukey's book as +'pon any; an' 'tis almost as big."</p> + +<p>"Girls: English prize, Ivy Nancarrow—and I hope that in futur', whoever +teaches her, she won't think L-A-M spells 'lamb.' Sums and geography +prize, Maudie Hosken; junior prize, Jane Ann Toy."</p> + +<p>"Boys: General knowledge, 'Thaniel Langmaid; general improvement, Luke +Toy."</p> + +<p>"That makes four altogether." Mr. Toy jingled his shillings furtively. +"Look here, Selina," he whispered, "we'll have to pay the old 'ooman +something on account. How else to get out o' this, I don't see."</p> + +<p>"An' now, friends an' neighbours," began Aunt Butson resolutely, +"I've a-fetched 'ee together to say that 'tis all over; the school's come +to an end. You've stuck by me while you could, and I thank you kindly. +But 'tis hard for one of my age to fight with tyrants, and tyrants and +Government together be too much for me. I've a-taught this here village +for getting-up three generations. Lord knows I never loved the work; but +Lord knows I was willing to go on with it till He called me home. +Take a look at thicky there blackboard an' easel, bought but the other +week; and here's a globe now, cost me fifteen shillin'—an' what'll I do +with it?" She detached it from its frame, and before passing it round for +inspection, held it between her trembling palms. "Here be all the nations +o' the earth, civilised and uncivilised; and here be I, Sarah Butson, with +no place upon it, after next Monday, to lay my head."</p> + +<p>She looked up with fierce, tearless eyes, and looking up, caught sight of +Mr. Samuel Rosewarne in the doorway.</p> + +<p>"Oh, good-morning, Mrs. Butson!" nodded Mr. Sam easily. "I looked in to +see if you'd collected your school-fees this week, as the law requires. +You are doing so, it seems?"</p> + +<p>"Rosewarne—" Mrs. Butson stepped down from her platform, globe in hand.</p> + +<p>"Eh? I beg your pardon?" But before the mischief in her eyes he turned +and fled.</p> + +<p>She followed him to the door.</p> + +<p>"Take <i>that</i>, you thievin' Pharisee!"</p> + +<p>The globe missed his head by a few inches, and went flying down the +roadway toward the ferry. Aunt Butson strode back among her astonished +audience.</p> + +<p>"That's my last word to <i>he</i>," she said, panting; "and here's my last to +you." She picked up her chalk, advanced to the blackboard, and wrote +rapidly, in bold, clear hand—</p> + +<h4> BLAST ALL EDUCATION!</h4> + +<p>"You may go, friends," said she. "I'd like to be alone, if you please."</p> + + +<br><br> +<p><a name = "17"></a> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XVII.</h3> + +<h4>PETER BENNY'S DISMISSAL.</h4> + +<p>Although Master Calvin Rosewarne, by telling tales, first set the +persecution going against Nicky Vro, he did so without any special +malevolence. It was an instance of Satan's finding mischief for idle +hands. The child, in fact, had no playmates, and little to do; and +happening to pass Mrs. Trevarthen's cottage as her household stuff and +sticks of furniture were being removed in a hand-cart, he followed +downhill to the ferry to watch the transhipment.</p> + +<p>Some minutes later, Mrs. Trevarthen, having locked her door for the +last time, laid the key under a geranium-pot on the window-sill. +There was no sentiment in her leave-taking. A few late blossoms showed on +the jasmine which, from a cutting planted by her in the year of Tom's +birth, had over-run and smothered the cottage to its very chimney. +Her Michaelmas daisies and perennial phloxes—flowers of her anxious +care—were in full bloom. But the old soul had no eyes for them, now at +the last, being flustered by the importance of her journey and the thought +of many things, hastily packed, which might take harm in crossing the +ferry. Mr. Toy (a neighbourly fellow with all his failings, and one of +that not innumerous class of men who delight in any labour, so it be +unprofitable) had undertaken to load the ferry-boat; but having in mere +exuberance of good-nature imbibed more beer than was good for him, he +could not be trusted with the chinaware.</p> + +<p>Neighbours appeared at every doorway—the more emotional ones with red +eyes—to wish Mrs. Trevarthen good-bye. She answered them tremulously; +but her mind, all the way down the street, ran on a hamper of chinaware, +the cover of which she could not remember to have tied. Her left arm +rested in Aunt Butson's (who carried the parrot's cage swathed in an old +petticoat); on her right she bore a covered basket.</p> + +<p>At the slip Mr. Toy handed her on board. He himself would cross later in +the horse-boat, with his handcart and the heavier luggage.</p> + +<p>"Better count the parcels, missus," he advised. "There's fifteen, as I +make out; and Mr. Vro'll hand 'em out careful 'pon t'other side. +You'd best wait there till I come across with the rest."</p> + +<p>Instead of taking her seat at once, Mrs. Trevarthen stood for a moment +bewildered amid the packages crowding the thwarts and the sternsheets; and +most unfortunately Old Vro selected this moment to thrust off from shore +with his paddle. The impetus took her at unawares, and she fell forward; +her basket struck against the boat's gunwale, its cover flew open, and +forth from it, half-demented with fright, sprang her tabby cat, +Methuselah. The poor brute lit upon the parrot's cage, which happened to +be balanced upon an unstable pile of cooking utensils at the end of Nicky +Vro's thwart. Cat, cage and parrot, a gridiron, two cake tins, a bundle +of skewers, and a cullender, went overboard in one rattling avalanche, and +Master Calvin laughed aloud from the shore.</p> + +<p>Nicky Vro, with a wild clutch, grabbed hold of the cage before it sank, +and dragged it and the screaming bird out of danger. The gridiron and +skewers went down at once—luckily in four feet of water, whence they +could be recovered at low-ebb. The cullender sank slowly and with +dignity. The cat headed straight for shore, and, defying all attempts of +Mr. Toy and Aunt Butson to head him off, slipped between them and dashed +up the hill on a bee-line for home. Master Calvin, seated astride the low +wall above the slipway, almost rolled off his perch with laughter. +Uncle Vro, cage in hand, turned on him with sudden fury.</p> + +<p>"Better fit you was at your lessons," he called back, shaking his fist, +"than grinning there at your father's dirty work! Toy, run an' pull the +ears of 'en!—'twon't be noticed if you pull 'em an inch longer than they +be."</p> + +<p>The boy, as Mr. Toy ran towards him with a face that meant business, +dropped off the wall on its far side, and charged up the hill for home in +a terror scarcely less urgent than Methuselah's. Nor did he feel safe +until, at the gate of Hall, he tumbled into his father's arms and panted +out his story.</p> + +<br><br> +<p>"Talked about my 'dirty work,' did he?" mused Mr. Sam, pulling at his +under-lip. He wheeled about and walked straight to the counting-house, +where Mr. Benny sat addressing Michaelmas bills.</p> + +<p>"Put those aside for a moment," he commanded. "I want a letter written."</p> + +<p>Mr. Benny took a sheet of notepaper from the rack, dipped his pen, and +looked up attentively.</p> + +<p>"It's for the ferryman below here—Old Vro, as you call him. Write that +after Saturday next his services will not be required."</p> + +<p>Mr. Benny laid down his pen slowly and stared at his master.</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon, sir—you can't mean that you're dismissing him?"</p> + +<p>"Why not?"</p> + +<p>"What, old Nicky Vro?" Mr. Benny shook his head, as much as to say that +the thing could not be done.</p> + +<p>"He has been grossly impudent. Apart from that, his incompetence is a +scandal, and I have wondered more than once how my father put up with it. +In justice to the public using the ferry, and to Lady Killiow as owner of +the ferry rights—But, excuse me, I prefer not to argue the matter. +He must go. Will you, please, write the letter, and deliver it when you +cross the ferry at dinner-time."</p> + +<p>"But, indeed, Mr. Samuel—you must forgive me, sir—old Nicky may be +cantankerous at times, but he means no harm to any living soul. +The passengers make allowances: he's a part of the ferry, as you might +say. As for impudence—if he really has been impudent—will you let me +talk to him, sir? I'll engage he asks pardon and promises not to offend +again. But think, before in your anger you turn him adrift—where can the +old man go, but to the workhouse? What can he have saved, on twelve +shillings a week? For every twelve shillings he's earned Lady Killiow +three to five pounds, week by week, these forty years; and not one penny +of it, I'll undertake to say, has he kept back from her ladyship. +What wage is it, after all, for the years of a man's strength that now, +with a few more years to live, he should lose it?"</p> + +<p>"Have you done?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Benny stood up. "I should never have done, sir, until you listened to +me."</p> + +<p>"You refuse to write the letter?"</p> + +<p>"I humbly beg you, sir, not to ask me to write it."</p> + +<p>"But I do ask you to write it."</p> + +<p>Mr. Benny thrust both hands nervously beneath his coat-tails, walked to +the window and stood for a second or two, staring out upon the garden. +His cheeks were flushed. He had arrived at one of those moments in life +which prove a man; but of heroism he was not conscious at all.</p> + +<p>"I am very sorry, Mr. Samuel," said he, turning again to the table. +"If your father had told me to write such a letter, I should have used an +old servant's liberty and warned him that he was acting unjustly. +Though it made him angry, he would have understood. But I see, sir, that +I have no right to argue with you; and so let us have no more words. +I cannot write what you wish."</p> + +<p>"My father," answered Mr. Sam, wagging a finger at him, "tolerated many +things I do not propose to tolerate. He suffered this old dotard to annoy +the public, though long past work. I am not surprised to learn that he +suffered you to forget your place."</p> + +<p>Mr. Benny gathered up his papers without answering.</p> + +<p>"Look here, Benny," Mr. Sam resumed, after watching him for a while, +"I don't wish to be hard on you; I only require obedience. It's a bit +foolish of you—eh?—to be quarrelling with your bread and butter."</p> + +<p>"May be, sir."</p> + +<p>"If you leave me, I wish it to be understood that 'tis by your own +choice."</p> + +<p>The little man met his master's eyes now with a look of something like +contempt. "If that salves your conscience, sir, by all means have it so. +But if 'tis to be plain truth between us, you want a younger clerk."</p> + +<p>"Did I ever complain of your incompetence?"</p> + +<p>"My incompetence, sir? 'Tis my competence you surely mean? I reckon no +man can be sure of being a good servant till he has learnt to advise for +his master's good against his master's will."</p> + +<p>"What's the matter with 'ee, Peter?" asked Nicky Vro as he rowed Mr. Benny +across the ferry at dinnertime. "You're looking as downcast as a gib +cat."</p> + +<p>"I was wondering," answered Mr. Benny gently, "how many times we two have +crossed this ferry together."</p> + +<p>Nicky Vro pondered. "Now that's the sort o' question I leave alone o' set +purpose, and I'll tell 'ee for why. One night, years ago, and just as we +was off to bed, my poor wife says to me, 'I wonder how many times you've +crossed the ferry, first and last.' 'Hundreds and thousands,' I says, +just like <i>so</i>. She'd a-put the question in idleness, an' in idleness I +answered it. Will you believe it?—between twelve and one in the morning +I woke up with my head full o' figgers. Not another wink o' sleep could I +get, neither. Soon as ever I shook up the bolster an' settled down for +another try, I see'd myself whiskin' back and forth over this here piece +o' water like a piston-rod in a steamship, and off I started countin' for +dear life. Count? I tell you it lasted for nights, and by the end o' the +week I had to see the doctor about it. I was losin' flesh. Doctor, he +gave me a bottle o' trade—very flat-tasted stuff it was, price half a +crown, with a sediment if you let it stand; and after a few days the +trouble wore off. They tell me there's a new pupil teacher up to the +school can answer questions like that while you're countin' his buttons. +I've seen the fellow: a pigeon-chested poor creatur', with his calves put +on the wrong way. I'd a mind to tell 'en that with figgers, as with other +walks o' life, a man's first business is to look after his own. +But I didn't like to, he looked so harmless. Puttin' one thing with +another, Peter Benny, I'd advise you to leave these speckilations alone. +Be it a thousand times or ten thousand, there's only one time that counts +—the last; and only the Lord A'mighty knows when that'll be."</p> + +<p>Mr. Benny sighed. "When the Lord sets a man free of his labour, Nicky, +He does it gently. But we have to deal with an earthly master, we two, +and his mercies aren't so gentle."</p> + +<p>Nicky Vro nodded. "You'm thinkin' of they two poor souls up the hill. +A proper tyrant Mister Sam can be, and so I told that ugly-featured boy of +his, when I put Mrs. Trevarthen across this mornin'. 'Twas a shame, too, +to lose my temper with the cheeld; for a cat couldn't help laughin'— +supposin' he wasn't the partickler cat consarned." The old man told the +story, chuckling wheezily.</p> + +<p>"You went too far, Nicky. I have the best reasons for knowing that you +went too far. Now listen to me. As soon as you get back, hitch up your +boat, walk straight up to Hall, and tell Mr. Sam that you're sorry."</p> + +<p>"Well, so I am in a way, though the fellow do turn my stomach. +Still there wasn' no sense in rappin' out on the boy."</p> + +<p>"It doesn't help the old woman, you know," said Mr. Benny, and sighed +again, bethinking himself how vain had been his own protest.</p> + +<p>"Not a bit," assented Mr. Vro cheerfully. "Well, I'll go back and make it +up with the varmint. I reckon he means to give me a bad few minutes; but +'tis foolish to quarrel when folks can't do without one another, and so +I'll tell 'en."</p> + +<br><br> +<p>Half an hour ago Mr. Benny had been a brave man, but as he neared his home +a sudden cowardice seized him. It was not that he shirked breaking the +news to his wife; nay, he fiercely desired to tell her, and get the worst +over. But in imagination he saw the children seated around the table, all +hungry as hunters for the meal which, under God's grace, he had never yet +failed to earn; and the thought that they might soon hunger and not be +fed, for a moment unmanned him. He hurried past the ope leading to his +door. The dinner-hour's quiet rested on the little town, and there was no +one in the street to observe him as he halted by the church-gate, +half-minded to return. The gate stood open, and as he glanced up at the +tower the clock there rang out its familiar chime. He passed up the path, +entered, and cast himself on his knees.</p> + +<p>For half an hour he knelt, and, although he prayed but by fits and starts, +by degrees peace grew within him and possessed his soul. He waited until +the clock struck two—by which time the children would be back at school— +and walked resolutely homeward.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Benny and Nuncey were alone in the kitchen, where the board had been +cleared of all but the tablecloth and his own knife and fork. They cried +out together upon his dilatoriness; but while his wife turned to fetch his +dinner from the oven, Nuncey took a step forward, scanning his face.</p> + +<p>"Father?"</p> + +<p>He put out a hand as he dropped into his seat, and stared along the empty +table.</p> + +<p>"I am dismissed."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Benny faced about, felt for a chair, and sat down trembling. +Nuncey took her father's hand.</p> + +<p>"Tell us all about it," she commanded; and he told them.</p> + +<p>His wife cast her apron over her head.</p> + +<p>"But he'll take you back," she moaned. "If you go to 'en and ask 'en +properly, he'll surely take you back!"</p> + +<p>"Don't be foolish, mother." Nuncey laid a hand on her father's shoulder, +and he looked up at her with brimming eyes. "'Tis Rosewarne that shall +send to us before we go to him!"</p> + +<p>She patted the tired shoulders, now bent again over the table.</p> + +<p>"But what a brave little father it is, after all!"</p> + + +<br><br> +<p><a name = "18"></a> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XVIII.</h3> + +<h4>RIGHT OF FERRY.</h4> + +<p>"What's the matter with Benny?" asked Nicky Vro as he rowed Hester across +that evening. They were alone in the boat. "The man seemed queer in his +manner this morning, like as if he was sickenin' for something, and this +afternoon I han't seen fur nor feather of 'en." He dug away with his +paddles, and resumed with a chuckle, after a dozen strokes, "The man +hasn't been quarrellin' with his bread and butter, I hope? I went up to +see Mr. Sam on a little business o' my own after dinner, and he fairly +snapped my nose off—called me an impident old fool, and gave me the sack. +Iss fay, he did! I wasn't goin' to argue with the man. 'You'll think +better o' this to-morrow,' I said, and with that I comed away. +Something must have occurred to put 'en out before he talked that nonsense +to <i>me</i>."</p> + +<p>Next morning, Hester—who meanwhile had learned the truth—found the old +fellow in the same cheerful, incredulous frame of mind. She might have +told him how serious was his case; but it is improbable that she could +have convinced him, and, moreover, Mr. Benny, before confiding to her the +reason of his own dismissal, had made her promise to keep it a secret.</p> + +<p>By Saturday, however, it was generally known that Mr. Sam had found some +excuse or other to get rid of his father's confidential clerk. Now Mr. +Benny had hitherto brought down Nicky's weekly wages on Saturday evenings +as he crossed by the ferry. This week no Mr. Benny appeared, nor any +messenger from Hall; and consequently on Sunday morning early Nicky donned +a clean shirt-front and marched up to the house to claim his due.</p> + +<p>"I make it a rule," said Mr. Sam, "to dispense no moneys on the Sabbath."</p> + +<p>"The ferry charges double on the Sabbath, as you call it," answered +Nicky, "and always has. I don't see where your squeamishness begins. +Hows'ever, I'll call to-morrow rather than hurt any man's conscience; only +let's have it clear when the money's to be paid in futur'."</p> + +<p>"In future?" echoed Mr. Sam. "I hoped I had made it clear that after this +week you cease to be ferryman."</p> + +<p>"That's a good joke, now," said Nicky.</p> + +<p>"I am glad you take it so pleasantly. Come to me to-morrow, and you shall +be paid; and again next Saturday, after you have chained up for the night. +That, I warn you, will be the last time."</p> + +<p>"Oh, you'll think better of it by Saturday!"</p> + +<p>That Mr. Sam did not think better of it scarcely needs to be said; and +during the next few days some of Nicky's confidence began to ooze away. +His master made no sign; he could not hear that anyone had been engaged in +his place, or that anyone had been proposed for the job, but this silence +somehow disconcerted rather than reassured him. He discussed it with his +neighbour Hosken (one of the few small freeholders in the parish, who +along with a cottage and two acres of garden had inherited a deep +ancestral suspicion of the Rosewarnes and all their ways), and between +them the pair devised a plan to meet contingencies.</p> + +<p>The ferry closed at eight p.m. during the winter months. At half-past +eight on Saturday night Nicky again presented himself at Hall, and was +politely received in the counting-house.</p> + +<p>"Take a seat," suggested Mr. Sam.</p> + +<p>"Thank 'ee, sir," said Nicky, somewhat reassured. This opening promised +at least that Mr. Sam found the situation worth discussing. "Thank 'ee, +sir; but 'tis a relief to me to stand, not to mention the trousers."</p> + +<p>"Please yourself." Mr. Sam paused, and appeared to be waiting.</p> + +<p>"'Tis nice seasonable weather for the time of year," said Nicky +cheerfully, producing a large canvas bag and reaching forward to lay it on +the writing-table. It contained his week's takings, mostly in coppers. +"Three pounds, twelve shillings, and ninepence, sir, if you'll count it. +There's one French penny, must have been put upon me just now after dark. +I can't swear to the person, though I can guess. The last load but one, I +brought across a sailor-looking chap, a bustious, big fellow, with a round +hat like a missionary's, and all the rest of him in sea-cloth. Thinks I, +'You've broken ship, my friend.' The man had a drinking face, and +altogether I didn't like his looks. So, next trip, I warned the constable +across the water, in case he heard of a seaman missing from the west'ard. +But this here French penny I only discovered just now, when I counted up +the day's takings."</p> + +<p>"I fancy you must be mistaken," said Mr. Sam. "The man has a good +character for honesty."</p> + +<p>"What? You know 'en?"</p> + +<p>"He is the new tenant of Mrs. Trevarthen's cottage, and has come to take +over the ferry." In the pause that followed, Mr. Sam counted and arranged +the coins in small stacks. "Three-twelve-nine, did you say? Right. +But excuse me, there's one thing you've forgotten."</p> + +<p>Nicky understood. Very slowly he drew a chain from his left trouser +pocket, detached two keys, and laid them on the table. His face worked, +and for the moment he seemed on the verge of an outburst; but, when he +spoke, it was with dignity, albeit his voice trembled.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Samuel, you try to go where the devil can't, between the oak and the +rind. Your father fought with men of his own size, and gave an' took what +the fightin' brought; but as for you, you fight with women and children, +and old worn-out men, such as the Lord helps because they can't help +themselves. You han't beat us yet—not by a long way. I warn you to pray +that the way may be lengthened; for 'tis when you've overcome us, an' the +Lord takes up our cause, that your troubles'll begin."</p> + +<br><br> +<p>Small sleep came to Nicky Vro that night. What troubled him most in the +prospect of the struggle ahead—for a struggle he meant it to be—was his +position as Rosewarne's tenant. Mean as was his hovel above the ferry— +rented by him at £four a year—he clung to it, and Mr. Samuel would +certainly turn him out. By good luck he paid his rent quarterly, and +could not be evicted before Christmas. He had talked this over with his +neighbour, Hosken, who had encouraged him to be cheerful. "Drat it all, +uncle," said Hosken, himself the cheeriest of men, "if the worst comes to +the worst, I'll take you in myself, and give you your meals and a crib."</p> + +<p>Nicky shook his head. "You'd best talk it over with your wife," said he, +"afore you make free with your promises. She's a good woman, but +afflicted with tidiness. I doubt my ways be too messy for her."</p> + +<p>While he lay on his straw mattress thinking of these things, a distant +gallop of hoofs woke the night, and by and by, with much clattering of +loose stones, a horse came plunging down the village street.</p> + +<p>Old Nicky, who slept in his clothes, was out of bed and ready before the +rider drew rein.</p> + +<p>"'Tis young Tregenza from Kit's Harbour," he muttered. "I heard that +his missus was expectin'. Lord, how a man will ride for his first! +All right! all right!" he sung out, fumbling with the bar as the butt of a +riding-whip rattled on the shutter. "Be that you, Mr. Tregenza?"</p> + +<p>"For the Lord's sake, uncle!" an agitated voice made answer out of the +darkness.</p> + +<p>"There, there! Yours ben't the first case that have happened, my lad, and +you'll ride easier next time. Hitch up the horse, and I'll have the boat +out in two two's."</p> + +<p>"Why can't you fetch out the horse-boat?"</p> + +<p>"Because, my son, I ben't the proper ferryman. You must ride back up the +hill if you want <i>he</i>; and even so, I doubt he'll have to knock up the +folks at Hall to get at the keys."</p> + +<p>Mr. Tregenza broke out into impatient swearing on all who delayed travel +on the king's highway.</p> + +<p>"You may leave your curses, young man, to them with a better right to use +'em. Thank the Almighty there's a boat to put you across. Hosken's blue +boat it is; you'll find her ready to launch, down 'pon the slip. Take her +and pull for the doctor. Tell 'en 'tis no use his bringing a horse, for +there's no boat to fetch a horse over. But there's Tank's grey mare up to +the inn. I'll have her ready saddled for him, if he'll promise to ride +steady and mind the sore 'pon her near shoulder."</p> + +<p>All the village had heard the midnight gallop of hoofs; all the village +had guessed accurately who the rider was, and why he rode. But Nicky's +dismissal was known to a few only. Soon after daybreak the news of this +spread too, with the circumstance that only Nicky's good-nature had kept +clear the king's highway for a message which above all others needs to be +carried with speed.</p> + +<p>Nicky sat complacent off the ferry-slip in Hosken's blue boat when the new +ferryman arrived (twenty minutes late, by reason of his having to fetch +the keys from Hall), and stolidly undid the padlock fastening the official +craft.</p> + +<p>"Aw, good-mornin'!" Nicky hailed him.</p> + +<p>"Mornin'," said the new ferryman.</p> + +<p>"We're in opposition, it seems."</p> + +<p>"Darned if I care." The new ferryman lit his pipe and spat. "My name's +Elijah Bobe."</p> + +<p>"Then, Elijah Bobe, you may as well go home. 'Tis Sunday, and a slack +day; but, were it Saturday and full business, your takings wouldn't cover +your keep."</p> + +<p>"Darned if I care," Mr. Bobe repeated. "I'm paid by the week." He sucked +at his pipe for a while. "Ticklish job, ain't it?—interferin' with a +private ferry?" he asked.</p> + +<p>But Nicky had taken opinion upon this. So far as he could discover, the +case lay thus: Of the ferry itself nothing belonged to Lady Killiow but +the slipway on the near shore. The farther slipway was not precisely +no-man's-land, for the foreshore belonged to the Duchy, and the soil +immediately above it to Sir George Dinham; but here half a dozen separate +interests came into conflict. Sir George, while asserting ownership of +the land, would do nothing to repair or maintain the slip on it, arguing +very reasonably that he derived no profit from the dues, and that since +these went to Lady Killiow, she was bound to maintain her own +landing-places. Rosewarne, on the other hand, as Lady Killiow's steward, +flatly refused to execute repairs upon another person's property. +The Duchy, being appealed to, told the two parties (in effect) to fight it +out. The Highway Board was ready enough to maintain the road down to +high-water mark, but, on legal advice, declined to go farther. +The Harbour Commissioners held that to repair a private ferry was no +business of theirs, and, although the condition of the slipway had for +years been a scandal, refused to meddle. The whole dispute raised the +nice legal points, What is a ferry? Does the term include not only the +boat but access to the boat? And, incidentally, if anyone broke a leg on +the town shore on his way between highwater mark and the boat, from whom +could he recover damages?</p> + +<p>In short, Nicky felt easy enough about landing and embarking his +passengers on the town shore. Rosewarne could not challenge him without +raising the whole question of the slipway. But on the near shore he must +act circumspectly. To be sure the approach to the water here was part of +the king's highway. The whole village used it, and moored their boats +without let or hindrance off the slip which (since the land belonged to +the Killiow estate) the Rosewarnes had kept in good repair, and without +demur. But it was clearly understood—and Nicky, a few hours ago, would +have asserted it as stubbornly as anyone—that the sole right of taking a +passenger on board here for hire and conveying him across to the town +appertained to the Killiow ferryman.</p> + +<p>As it happened, however, at the back of Nicky's cottage a narrow lane, +public though seldom used, ran down to the waterside, to a shelf of rock +less than a stone's throw from the slip, and, when cleared of weed below +the tide-mark, by no means inconvenient for embarking passengers. +A rusty ring, clamped into the living rock, survived to tell of days +before steam-tugs were invented, when vessels had painfully to warp their +way up and down the river. Through this ring, no man forbidding him, Mr. +Hosken had run a frape, on which he kept his blue boat, now leased to +Nicky for a nominal rent of sixpence a week.</p> + +<p>"And why not use this for your ferry-landing?" Mr. Hosken suggested. +"Rosewarne can't touch ye here."</p> + +<p>"Sure?"</p> + +<p>"I reckon I ought to know the tithe-maps by heart; and, by them, this +parcel of shore belongs to nobody, unless it be to Her Majesty."</p> + +<p>Nicky chuckled with a wheezy cunning.</p> + +<p>It happened as he had promised the new ferryman. Mr. Sam's unpopularity +had been growing in the village since the eviction of Mrs. Trevarthen. +Aunt Butson, after a vain attempt to find labour in the fields, had +followed her to the almshouse across the water. The cause of Mr. Benny's +dismissal had been freely canvassed and narrowly guessed at. +Against this new stroke of tyranny the public revolted. Living so far +from their own church and a mile from the nearest chapel, numbers of the +villagers were wont on Sundays to cross over to the town for their +religion, and to-day with one consent they stepped into Nicky's blue boat, +while Mr. Bobe smoked and spat, and regarded them with a lazy interest. +Towards evening the old man jingled a pocketful of coppers.</p> + +<p>"Why ever didn't I think o' this before?" he asked aloud. "Here I've +a-been near upon fifty years earnin' twelve shillings a week, and all the +while might ha' been a rich man and my own master!"</p> + +<p>Next day he sought out Mr. Toy, and Mr. Toy obligingly painted and +lettered a board for him, and helped to fix it against the wall of his +hovel overlooking the lane—</p> + +<center> +<table cellpadding= "2"> +<tr><td align="center" valign="top">THIS WAY TO</td><td> </td></tr> +<tr><td align="center" valign="top">N. VRO FERRYMAN</td><td> </td></tr> +<tr><td align="center" valign="top">THE OLD FIRM</td><td> </td></tr> +</table> +</center> +<p>Here was defiance indeed, a flaunted banner of revolt! The villagers, who +had hitherto looked upon the old man as half-witted but harmless, suddenly +discovered him to be a hero, and Mr. Toy gave himself a holiday to stand +beneath the board and explain it to all the country folk coming to use the +ferry. So well did he succeed that between sunset and sunrise the only +passenger by the official boat was Mr. Sam himself, on his way to seek and +take counsel with Lawyer Tulse.</p> + +<p>Of their interview no result appeared for ten days, during which Nicky saw +himself acquiring wealth beyond the dreams of avarice. Already he +despised what at first had been so terrible, the prospect of being turned +out of house and home. He could snap his fingers, and let Mr. Sam do his +worst. He no longer thought of hiring a bedroom; he would rent a small +cottage from Hosken, and perhaps engage a housekeeper. It is to be feared +that in these days Nicky gave way to boasting; but much may be forgiven to +a man who blossoms out into a hero at eighty.</p> + +<p>On the twelfth day of his prosperity, as he rested on his oars off the +town-landing and dreamed of a day when, by purchasing a horse-boat, he +would deprive the official ferry of its only source of revenue, and close +all competition, a seedy-looking man in a frayed overcoat stepped down the +slipway and accosted him.</p> + +<p>"Is your name Nicholas Vro?"</p> + +<p>"It is; and you'm askin' after the right boat, stranger though you be. +Step aboard, mister."</p> + +<p>"Thank you," said the seedy-looking man, "but I don't need to cross. +The fact is, I've a paper to deliver to you."</p> + +<p>Nicky, as he did not mind confessing, was 'no scholar'; he could read at +the best with great difficulty, and he had left his spectacles at home.</p> + +<p>"What's the meaning o' this?" he asked, turning the document over.</p> + +<p>"It's an injunction."</p> + +<p>"That makes me no wiser, my son."</p> + +<p>"It's a paper to restrain you from plying this ferry for hire pending a +suit Killow <i>versus</i> Vro in which you are named as defendant."</p> + +<p>"'Suit'—'verses'? Darn the fellow, what's to do with verses? Come to me +with your verses!" Nicky tossed the injunction contemptuously down in the +sternsheets.</p> + +<p>"You'll find 'tis the law," said the stranger warningly.</p> + +<p>"The law? I've a-seen the law, my friend, over to Bodmin, and 'tis a very +different looking chap from you, I can assure 'ee. The law rides in a +gilt coach with trumpets afore it, and two six-foot fellows up behind in +silk stockings and powder. The law be that high and mighty it can't even +wear its own nat'ral hair. And you come to me stinkin' of beer in a +reach-me-down overcoat, and pretend <i>you</i> be the law! You'll be tellin' me +next you're Queen Victoria. But it shows what a poor kind o' case +Rosewarne must have, that he threatens me wi' such a make-believe."</p> + +<p>That Nicky had been alarmed for the moment cannot be denied. +His uneasiness died away, however, as the days passed and nothing +happened. The paper he stowed away at home in the skivet of his chest, +and very foolishly said nothing about it even to his neighbour Hosken.</p> + +<p>Indeed he had almost forgotten it when, just before Christmas, the +stranger appeared again on the slip with another paper.</p> + +<p>"Hullo! More verses?"</p> + +<p>"You've to show cause why you shouldn't be committed for contempt."</p> + +<p>"Oh, have I? Well, a man can't help his feelin's, but I'm sorry if I said +anything the other day to hurt yours; for a man can't help his appearance, +neither, up to a point."</p> + +<p>"You've none too civil a tongue," answered the stranger, "but I think it a +kindness to warn you. By continuing to ply this ferry you're showing +contempt for the law, and the law is going to punish you."</p> + +<p>Nicky thought this out, but could not understand it at all. If Mr. Sam +had a legal right to stop him, why hadn't he sent the police, or at least +a 'summons'? As for going to prison, that only happened to thieves and +criminals. No man could be locked up for pulling a boat to and fro; the +notion was absurd on the face of it.</p> + +<p>Two days later he sought out Mr. Benny, and showed him the documents.</p> + +<p>"I wish you'd make head or tail of 'em for me. They're pretendin' somehow +that Queen Victoria herself is mixed up in it. God bless her! and me that +have never clapped eyes on her nor wished her aught but in health an' +wealth long to live, Amen."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Nicky, Nicky!" Mr. Benny leapt up from his chair. "What have you +done! and what a criminal fool was I not to keep an eye on you!"</p> + +<p>"From all I hear," said Nicky, "you've had enough to do lookin' after +yourself. Be it true, as I hear tell, that Rosewarne gave you the sack on +my account?"</p> + +<p>"Never talk of that," commanded Mr. Benny. "Go you home now, lock up your +boat, get a night's rest, and expect me early to-morrow morning. +Between this and then I will see what can be done." But his heart sank as +he glanced again at the date on the document.</p> + +<p>Indeed he was too late. After an ineffectual interview with Mr. Tulse, +the little man rushed off to the ferry, intent on facing Mr. Sam in his +den and pleading for mercy. But as he reached the slip the official +ferryboat came alongside, and in the sternsheets beside the town policeman +sat Nicky Vro, on his way to Bodmin gaol.</p> + + +<br><br> +<p><a name = "19"></a> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XIX.</h3> + +<h4>THE INTERCEDERS.</h4> + +<p>"Clem!"</p> + +<p>The blind child awoke at the touch of his sister's hand on his shoulder, +and turned drowsily in his bed.</p> + +<p>"Eh? What's the matter?" A moment later he sat up in alarm and put out a +hand as if to feel the darkness. "It isn't morning yet!"</p> + +<p>"No; but the ground is all covered with snow, and you can't think what +funny lights are dancing over it across the sky. I've been watching them +for minutes and minutes."</p> + +<p>"What sort of lights?"</p> + +<p>"I can't tell you, because I never saw the like of them. Sometimes +they're white, and sometimes they're violet, and then again green and +orange. They run right across the sky like ribbons waving, and once they +turned to red and lit up the snow as far as I could see."</p> + +<p>"You've been catching your death of cold." Clem could hear her teeth +chattering.</p> + +<p>"I'm not so very cold," Myra declared bravely. "I took off the +counterpane and wrapped it round me. You'll come, won't you, dear?"</p> + +<p>Clem knew why he was summoned. Two days ago Susannah had told them of an +old woman living at Market Jew who had mixed a pot of green ointment and +touched her eyes with it, and ever afterwards seen the fairies. At once +Myra, who was naught if not practical, had secreted Susannah's jar of cold +cream (kept to preserve the children's skin from freckles) and a phial of +angelica-water from the store-closet, had stirred these into a beautiful +green paste, and had anointed her own eyes and Clem's with it, using +incantations—</p> + + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p class = "noindent">"Christ walked a little, a little<br> +<span class = "ind3">Before the sun did rise;</span><br> + Christ mixed clay with spittle,<br> +<span class = "ind3">And cured a blind man's eyes;</span><br> + This man, and that man,<br> +<span class = "ind3">And likewise Bartimee—</span><br> + What Christ did for these poor men<br> +<span class = "ind3">I hope He'll do for me."</span><br></p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + + +<p>The charm, however, had not worked. Perhaps it needed time to operate, +and the children had despaired too soon.</p> + +<p>"Why didn't you come to me at once?" demanded Clem.</p> + +<p>"I didn't dare." Myra trembled now, on the verge of putting her hopes to +the touch. Though these were but pisky-lights, what bliss if Clem should +behold them! "Besides, I saw a light across the yard in Archelaus Libby's +garret. I believe he is awake there, with his telescope, and <i>he</i> can't +have tried the ointment. You won't be terribly disappointed, dear, if—"</p> + +<p>He slid out of bed and took her hand.</p> + +<p>He was a brave boy; and when she led him to her window and he saw nothing, +his first thought was for her disappointment, to soothe it as well as he +might.</p> + +<p>"Tell me about it," he whispered, nestling down on the window-seat and +drawing her head close to his shoulder; for after the pause that destroyed +hope she had broken down, her body shaking with muffled sobs, woeful to +feel and to hear. Outside, the Northern Lights—the 'merry-dancers'—yet +flickered over the snowy roof-ridges and the snowy uplands beyond.</p> + +<p>"I am going to dress," she announced, as the gust of sobbing spent itself. +"If Archelaus Libby is awake, he will tell us what it means."</p> + +<p>"Take me with you."</p> + +<p>Though prepared to go alone, she had hoped he would ask this, being—to +confess the truth—more than half afraid of the dark landing and passages +below. The two dressed themselves and crept downstairs. In the hall, +remembering their former expedition, Myra felt the bolt of the front door +cautiously; but this time it was shut. They stole down the side-passage +to the kitchen, where a fire burned all night in the great chimney-place +on a bed of white wood ashes. Kneeling in the faint glow of it they drew +on and laced their boots, then unlatched the kitchen window and dropped +out upon the snow.</p> + +<p>Archelaus Libby had been given a garret over the cider house, where he +slept or studied in a perpetual odour of dried russet apples and Spanish +onions. He was awake and dressed, and welcomed the children gaily by the +light of a tallow candle. His simple mind found nothing to wonder at in +this nocturnal visit. Was not the Aurora Borealis performing in all its +splendour? Then naturally the whole world must be awake with him and +excited.</p> + +<p>He showed Myra its wonders through the telescope, discoursing on them with +glee.</p> + +<p>"But what does it <i>mean </i>?" she asked.</p> + +<p>He told her how it was caused, and how a clever man had once made a toy +with a bright lamp, a globe sprinkled with ground glass, and the vapour of +a sponge pressed on hot iron, repeating the phenomenon on a tiny scale. +"We will try it ourselves to-morrow," he promised.</p> + +<p>The ribbons of light were playing hide-and-seek behind a distant wooded +hill, now and again so vividly that its outline stood up clear against +them.</p> + +<p>"That will be the moors above Damelioc," said Archelaus. "If you watch +through the glass, you will see the monument there—the one on the +battle-field, you know. I saw it, just now, plain as plain. And once I +thought I saw the taller monument, over Bodmin." + +"That's where they've put Uncle Vro in gaol."</p> + +<p>"I was thinking of him just now, Miss Myra. It will be cold for him +to-night over there in his cell."</p> + +<p>"I wonder if Lady Killiow knows," said Myra musingly.</p> + +<p>"They were talking about it in the kitchen to-night," said Archelaus, +"and all agreed that she knew naught about it. Miss Susannah was saying +that Peter Benny had been across here, bold as a lion, this afternoon, and +spoke up to your uncle about it. Their voices were so loud that from the +great parlour she heard every word; and Mr. Benny was threatening to tell +Lady Killiow what he was doing in her name, and, what's more, to write up +to his brother and get the whole story in the London papers."</p> + +<p>"But <i>has</i> he told her?"</p> + +<p>Clem caught his sister suddenly by the arm. The child was shaking from +head to foot. "Peter Benny has not told her! Come away, Myra, and leave +Archelaus to his telescope. I want you, back at the house!"</p> + +<p>"Why, whatever has taken you?" she asked, believing him ill. Having +wished Archelaus good-night and hurried Clem down the garret stairs, she +repeated her question anxiously. "Come back to bed, Clem; you're shaking +like a leaf!"</p> + +<p>"The lights!" stammered the child. "I saw them."</p> + +<p>"You saw them!" Myra echoed slowly.</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes—over Bodmin and over Damelioc. How far is it to Damelioc?"</p> + +<p>"Four or five miles maybe. But, Clem, you don't mean—" She stared into +his face by the wan light of the Aurora reflected from the snow. +Reading his resolve, she became practical at once. "Stay here and don't +stir," she commanded, "while I creep back to the larder and forage."</p> + + +<br><br><p>Dawn overtook them at the lodge-gates of Damelioc; a still dawn, with a +clear, steel-blue sky and the promise of a crisp, bright day. It had +been freezing all night, and was freezing still; the snow as yet lay like +a fine powder, and so impetuously had they hurried, hand in hand, that +along the uplands they scarcely felt the edge of the windless air. +But here in the valley bottom, under the trees beside the stream, they +passed into a different atmosphere, and shivered. Here, too, for the +first half-mile—road and sward being covered alike with snow—Myra had +much ado to steer, and would certainly have missed her way but for the +black tumbling stream on her right. She knew that the drive ran roughly +parallel with it, and never more than a few paces distant from its brink. +Twice in her life she had journeyed with her grandmother in high June to +Lady Killiow's rose-show, and she remembered being allowed to kneel on the +cushions of the 'car' and wonder at the miniature bridges and cascades. +By keeping close beside the water she could not go wrong.</p> + +<p>They halted by a bridge below the lake where the woods divided to right +and left at the foot of the great home-park. A cold fog lay over the +water and the reedy islands where the wild duck and moorhens were just +beginning to stir, but above it a glint or two of sunshine touched the +wintry boughs, and while it grew and ran along them and lit up their snowy +upper surfaces as with diamonds, a full morning beam smote on the façade +of the house itself, high above the slope, uplifted above the fog as it +were a heavenly palace raised upon a base of cloud.</p> + +<p>Daunted by the vision, Myra glanced at Clem. His face was lifted towards +the sunlight.</p> + +<p>"The house!" she whispered. "Oh, Clem, it's ever so much grander than I +remembered!" She began to describe it to him, while they divided and +munched the crusts she had fetched from Susannah's bread-pan.</p> + +<p>"If her palace is as fine as that," said Clem, with great cheerfulness, +"she must be a very great lady, and can easily do what we want."</p> + +<p>They took hands again and mounted the curving drive to the terrace and the +cavernous <i>porte-cochère</i>, where hung a bell-pull so huge that Myra had to +clasp it in both hands and drag upon it with all her weight. Far in the +bowels of the house a bell clanged, deep and hollow-voiced as for a +funeral.</p> + +<p>A footman answered it—a young giant in blue livery and powder. +Flinging wide the vast door, he stared down upon the visitors, and his +Olympian haughtiness gave way to a broad grin.</p> + +<p>"Well, I'm jiggered!" said the footman.</p> + +<p>"You may be jiggered or not," answered Myra, with sudden <i>aplomb</i> +(a moment before, she had been ready to run), "but we wish to see Lady +Killiow. Will you announce us, please?"</p> + +<br><br> +<p>Two hours later, when the sun had risen above the trees, Sir George Dinham +came riding up through Damelioc Park. He too came to right a wrong, +having given his promise to Mr. Benny overnight. He rode slowly, +pondering. On his way he noted the footprints of two children on the +snow, except by them untrodden; marked how they wandered off here and +there toward the stream, but ever returned, regained the way, and held on +for Damelioc. He wondered what they might mean.</p> + +<p>Lady Killiow received him in her morning-room. She wore a bonnet and a +long cloak of sables, and was obviously dressed for a drive. She rose +from before her writing-table, where she was sealing a letter.</p> + +<p>"I interrupt you?" said Sir George as they shook hands, and glancing out +of the window he had a glimpse of the heads of a pair of restless bays. +Unheard by him—the snow lying six inches deep before the porch—Lady +Killiow's carriage had come round from the stables a minute after his +arrival.</p> + +<p>"But if I guess your errand," she said, "I was merely about to forestall +it. I am driving to Bodmin."</p> + +<p>"You knew nothing, then, of this poor old creature's case?" + +"My friend, I hope that you too have only just discovered it, or you would +have warned me."</p> + +<p>"I heard of it last night for the first time. Rosewarne alone is +responsible for the prosecution?"</p> + +<p>"He only." She nodded towards the letter on the writing-table. +"I have asked him to attend here when I return, and explain himself. +Meanwhile—"</p> + +<p>"But what can you do?"</p> + +<p>"The poor soul is in prison."</p> + +<p>"That is where I came to offer my help. The Assizes are not over. +The same judge who committed him has been delayed there for three days by +a <i>nisi prius</i> suit—an endless West Cornwall will case."</p> + +<p>"You did not suppose, surely, that this was happening with any consent of +mine?"</p> + +<p>"No," Sir George answered slowly, "I did not. But do you know, Lady +Killiow, that, without any consent of ours, you and I have nearly been in +litigation over this same wretched ferry?" He smiled at her surprise. +"Oh, yes, I could help the Radicals to make out a very good case against +us!"</p> + +<p>"I learned to trust my old steward. It seems that I have carried over my +trust too carelessly to this son of his, and with the less excuse because +I dislike the man. The fact is, I am getting old."</p> + +<p>"May I say humbly that you defend yourself before a far worse sinner in +these matters? And may I say, too, that your care for Damelioc and its +tenantry has always been quoted in my hearing as exemplary?"</p> + +<p>"I am not defending myself. I have been to blame, though," she added with +a twinkle, "I do not propose to confess this to my steward. I have been +bitterly to blame, and my first business at Bodmin will be to ask this old +man's pardon."</p> + +<p>"And after?"</p> + +<p>"He must be released, and at once. Can this be done by withdrawing the +suit? or must there be delays?"</p> + +<p>"He must purge his offence, I fear, unless you can persuade the judge to +reconsider it. If I can help you in this, I would beg for the privilege."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, my friend. I was on the point of asking what you offer. +You had best leave your horse here and take a seat in my carriage."</p> + +<p>"But," said Sir George, as she moved to the door, "you have not yet told +me how you learned the news—who was beforehand with me."</p> + +<p>"You shall see." She crossed the corridor, and softly opening a door, +invited him to look within. There, in the lofty panelled breakfast-room, +at a table reflected as a small white island in a sea of polished floor, +sat Myra and Clem replete and laughing, unembarrassed by the splendid +footman who waited on them, and reckless that the huge bunch of grapes at +which they pulled was of December's growing.</p> + +<p>Sir George laughed too as he looked. "But, good heavens!" said he, +remembering the footprints on the drive, "they must have left home before +daylight!"</p> + +<p>"They started in the dead of night, so far as I can gather. Eh? What is +it?" she asked, turning upon another footman, who had come briskly down +the corridor and halted behind her, obviously with a message.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Rosewarne, my lady. He has just come in by way of the stables. +He has seen the carriage waiting, but asks me to say that he will not +detain your ladyship a minute."</p> + +<p>"He has come for the children, no doubt. Very well; I will see him in the +morning-room." As the man held open the door for her she motioned to Sir +George to precede her. "I shall defer discussing Mr. Rosewarne's conduct +with him. For the moment we have to deal with its results, and you may +wish to ask him some questions."</p> + +<p>Mr. Sam never committed himself to horseback, but employed a light gig for +his journeys to and from Damelioc. The cold drive having reddened his +ears and lent a touch of blue to his nose, his appearance this morning was +more than usually unprepossessing.</p> + +<p>"I will not detain your ladyship," he began, repeating the message he had +sent by the footman. "Ah, Sir George Dinham? Your servant, Sir George! +My first and chief business was to recover my runaways, whom your ladyship +has so kindly looked after."</p> + +<p>"You know why they came?" asked Lady Killiow.</p> + +<p>"To tell the truth, I have not yet had an opportunity to question them. +Some freak of the girl's, I should guess. The young teacher to whom I +give house-room informs me that they were excited last night by an +appearance of the Northern Lights—a very fine display, he tells me. +I regret that, being asleep, I missed it. He suggested that the pair had +set out to explore the phenomenon; and that, very likely, is the +explanation—more especially as their footprints led me due northward. +My housekeeper tells me that Myra—the elder child—firmly believes a pot +of gold to be buried at the foot of every rainbow. A singular pair, my +lady! and my late father scarcely improved matters by allowing them to run +wild."</p> + +<p>"You are mistaken, Mr. Rosewarne. Undoubtedly they followed the Northern +Lights; but their purpose you Will hardly guess. It was to intercede for +an old man of eighty, whom, it appears, I have been cruel enough to lock +up in prison."</p> + +<p>Mr. Sam's face expressed annoyance and something more.</p> + +<p>"I sincerely trust, my lady, they have not succeeded in distressing you."</p> + +<p>"I suppose I may thank Heaven, sir, that they at least succeeded so far."</p> + +<p>Her tone completely puzzled Mr. Sam, who detected the displeasure beneath +it, but in all honesty could not decide whether she blamed him or the +children.</p> + +<p>"A painful business, my lady. The poor man was past his work—a nuisance +to himself and to others. These last scenes of our poor mortality— +often, as it seems to us (could <i>we</i> be the judges), so unduly +protracted—But some steps had to be taken. The ferry was becoming a +scandal. I felt called upon to act, and to act firmly. If I may use the +expression, your ladyship's feelings in the matter would naturally be +those which do honour to your ladyship's sex; they would be, shall I +say—er—"</p> + +<p>"Why not say 'womanly,' Mr. Rosewarne?"</p> + +<p>"Ha, precisely—womanly. I did my best to spare them."</p> + +<p>"We will talk of that later. Just now, you will please instruct us how +best to release the poor man, and at once. May I remind you that the +horses are taking cold?"</p> + +<p>"The horses?" Mr. Sam stared from Lady Killiow to Sir George. +"Her ladyship doesn't tell me that she was actually proposing to drive to +Bodmin?"</p> + +<p>"I start within five minutes."</p> + +<p>"But it is useless!"</p> + +<p>"Useless?"</p> + +<p>"The man is dead."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Rosewarne—"</p> + +<p>Mr. Sam drew a telegram from his pocket. "I received this as I was +leaving home. The governor of the prison very kindly communicated with me +as soon as the office opened. The prisoner—as I heard from the policeman +who escorted him—collapsed almost as soon as they admitted him. +I telegraphed at once to the governor, assuring him of my interest in the +case and requesting information. This is his reply: '<i>Vro died +three-thirty this morning. Doctor supposes senile decay.</i>' It was +considerate of him to make this addition, for it will satisfy your +ladyship that we acted, though unwillingly, with the plainest possible +justification. The man was hopelessly past his work."</p> + +<p>Sir George, who had been staring out of window, wheeled about abruptly, +lifted his head, and gazed at Mr. Sam for some twenty seconds with a +wondering interest. Then he turned to Lady Killiow.</p> + +<p>"Shall I send back the carriage?"</p> + +<p>"Thank you," she said; and he went out, with a glance at her face which +silently expressed many things.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Rosewarne," she began, when they were alone, "if I began to say what +I think of this business, a person of your instincts would at once fall to +supposing that I shifted the blame on to your shoulders, which is just the +last thing in the world I mean to do. But precisely because I am guilty, +and precisely because I accept responsibility for my steward's actions, a +steward who conceals his actions is of no use to me. You are dismissed."</p> + + +<br><br> +<p><a name = "20"></a> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XX.</h3> + +<h4>AN OUTBURST.</h4> + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p class = "noindent">"I saw the new moon late yestreen,<br> + Wi' the auld moon in her arm."<br></p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + +<p>"Miss Marvin, does 'yestreen' mean 'last night'?"</p> + +<p>"It does."</p> + +<p>"Then I wish the fellow would say 'last night,'" grumbled Master Calvin. +"And how could the new moon have the old moon in her arm?"</p> + +<p>Hester explained.</p> + +<p>"But moons haven't arms." He pushed the book away pettishly. +"I hate this poetry! Why can't you teach me what I want?"</p> + +<p>"That," said Hester, "is just what I am trying to discover. +Will you tell me what you want?"</p> + +<p>To her amazement, he bent his head down upon his arms and broke into +sobbing. "I don't know what I want! Everyone hates me, and I—I hate it +all!"</p> + +<p>Somehow, Hester—who had started by misliking the child, and only with the +gravest misgivings (yielding to pressure from his father) had consented to +teach him in her spare hours—was beginning to pity him. This new +feeling, to be sure, suffered from severe and constant checks; for he was +unamiable to the last degree, and seldom awoke a spark of liking but he +killed it again, and within five minutes, by doing or saying something +odious. He differed from other children, and differed unpleasantly. +He had taken the full tinge of his sanctimonious upbringing; he was +pharisaical, cruel at times, incurably twisted by his father's creed that +wrong becomes right when committed by a pious person from pious motives. +(His mother had once destroyed a cat because she found herself growing +fond of it and believed that a Christian's soul must be weaned of all +earthly affections.) He appealed to Hester's pity because, with all this, +he was unhappy.</p> + +<p>She had been teaching him languidly and inattentively to-day, being +preoccupied with a letter in her pocket; and to this letter, having set +him to learn his verses from Sir Patrick Spens, she let her thoughts +wander. It ran:—</p> + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p class = "noindent">"My dear Miss Marvin,—After much hesitation I have decided to + commit to writing a proposal which has been ripening in my mind + during our three months' acquaintance. My age and my + convictions alike disincline me to set too much store on the + emotion men call 'love,' which in my experience is illusory as + the attractions provoking it are superficial. But as a solitary + man I have long sighed for the blessings of Christian + companionship, or a union founded on mutual esteem and fruitful + in well-doing. While from the first not insensible to your + charms of person, I have allowed my inclination to grow because + I detected in you the superior graces of the mind and a strength + of character which could not be other than sustaining to the man + fortunate enough to possess you for a helpmeet. In short, my + dear Miss Marvin, you would gratify me in the highest degree by + consenting to be Mrs. R. I am, as you are probably aware, + well-to-do. The circumstances of my being a widower will not, + I hope, weigh seriously against this proposal in the mind of one + who, while retaining the personal attractions above mentioned, + may be reasonably supposed to have set aside the romantic + illusions of girlhood. Awaiting your reply, which I trust may + be favourable, I remain, yours very truly,"<br> +<span class = "ind15"> "S. Rosewarne."</span><br><br> + + "P.S.—Your exceptional gifts in the handling of children assure + me that my son Calvin would receive from you a care no less than + motherly. He would meet it, I feel equally sure, with a + responsive affection."</p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + +<p>The tone of this letter made Hester tingle as if some of its phrases had +been thongs to scourge her.</p> + +<p>Yet it must be answered.</p> + +<p>That this odious man should have dared—and yet for weeks she had seen it +coming. Incredible as she found it that a man from whom every nerve of +her body recoiled with loathing should complacently ignore the signs, +should complacently persevere in assuming himself to be agreeable and in +pressing that assumption, she had to admit that the offer did not take her +wholly by surprise. What bruised her was the insufferable obtuseness of +the wording. How was it possible for a human being to sit down in good +faith and pen such sentences without guessing that they hurt or insulted?</p> + +<p>Nevertheless she blessed the impulse which had prompted him to write; for +in writing he could be answered. All day she had gone in dread of meeting +him face to face.</p> + +<p>Once or twice, while she pondered her answer, she had glanced up at the +child, as if <i>he</i> could explain his father. What fatal unhappy gift had +they both, by which in all that they said or did they earned aversion?</p> + +<p>When the child broke down, she arose with a pang of self-reproach, crossed +to his chair, and laid a hand on his shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Listen to me, Calvin," she said. "You have told me one thing you want: +you want people to like instead of disliking you. Well, the quickest way +is to find out what they want, and do it, forgetting yourself; and then, +perhaps quite suddenly, you will wake up and discover not only that people +like you already, but that you yourself are full of a happiness you can't +explain."</p> + +<p>The gust of his sobbing grew calmer by degrees. He lifted his head a +little, but not to look her in the face.</p> + +<p>"Is that puzzling to you?" she asked. "Well, then, just give it a small +trial in practice, and see how it works. I want you, for instance, to +learn those verses. You don't like them; but by learning them you will +please me, and you want to please me. Try now!"</p> + +<p>He pulled the book towards him and bent over it, his head between his +hands. After three or four minutes he stood up, red-eyed and a little +defiant—</p> + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p class = "noindent">"'I saw the new moon late yestreen,<br> +<span class = "ind3">Wi' the auld moon in her arm;</span><br> + And if we gang to sea, master,<br> +<span class = "ind3"> I fear we'll come to harm.'"</span><br><br> + +<p> "They hadna sail'd a league, a league,<br> +<span class = "ind3">A league but barely ane—"</span><br></p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + +<p>Hester listened with eyes withdrawn, in delicacy avoiding to meet his +tear-reddened ones; and just then from the upper floor a scream rang +through the house—a child's scream.</p> + +<p>Master Calvin heard it, and broke off with a grin.</p> + +<p>"That will be Myra," he announced. "She's catching it!"</p> + +<p>Had she been less distraught, Hester might have marked and sighed over his +sudden relapse into odiousness. But she had risen with a white face; for +scream folllowed scream overhead, and the sound tortured her.</p> + +<p>"You don't tell me,"—she began, putting up both hands to her ears. +"No, no—there has been some accident! The poor child is calling for +help!"</p> + +<p>She ran out of the parlour, up the two flights of stairs and along a dark +winding corridor, still guided by the screams. At the end of the corridor +she found Susannah, pale, wringing her hands, outside a door which, +however, she made no attempt to enter.</p> + +<p>"Oh, miss, he's killing her!"</p> + +<p>"Is the door locked?" panted Hester, at the same time flinging her weight +against it as she turned the handle. It flew open, and she confronted— +not Myra, but Mr. Sam.</p> + +<p>He stood between her and the window with an arm uplifted and in his hand a +leathern strap; and while she recoiled for an instant, the strap descended +across the naked back and shoulders of little Clem, who drooped under it +with bowed knees, helpless, his arms extended, his wrists bound together +and lashed to the bed-post. The child made no sound. The piercing +screams came not from him, but from an inner room—Myra's bedroom—and +from behind a closed door.</p> + +<p>"You shall not!" Hester flung herself forward, shielding the child from +another blow. "Oh, what wickedness are you doing! What horrible +wickedness!"</p> + +<p>Mr. Sam had raised his arm again. The man indeed seemed to be +transported with passion, with sheer lust of cruelty. It is doubtful if +he had heard her enter. His dark face twitched distortedly in the fading +light.</p> + +<p>"I'll teach him—I'll teach him!" he panted.</p> + +<p>"You shall not!" Hester, covering the child's limp body, could not see his +face, but her eyes fell on his little shirt, ripped from neckband to flap, +and lying on the floor as it had been torn from his body and tossed aside. +She called to Susannah, still lingering doubtfully outside upon the mat, +and pointed to the door behind Mr. Sam. Susannah plucked up courage, +stepped across and turned the key. An instant later, like a small wild +beast uncaged, Myra came springing and crouched beside her brother, facing +his tormentor with blazing eyes.</p> + +<p>Hester, catching sight of the housekeeper's scissors which Susannah wore +at her waist, motioned to her to cut the cords binding Clem's wrists. +Mr. Sam made no effort to oppose her, but stood panting, with one hand +resting on the dressing-table. Susannah managed indeed to detach the +scissors, but held them out falteringly, as though in sheer terror +declining all responsibility.</p> + +<p>"Give them to me, then."</p> + +<p>But as Susannah held them out Myra leapt up and, snatching them, dashed +upon her uncle. His hand still rested palm downwards on the +dressing-table, and she struck at it. Undoubtedly the child would have +stabbed it through—for, strange to say, he made no effort to fend her off +or to avoid the stroke—had not Hester run in time to push her smartly by +the shoulder in the very act of striking. As it was the scissor-point +drove into the table, missing him by a bare two inches. Then and then +only he lifted his hand and stared at it stupidly. He seemed about to +speak, but turned with a click of the throat—a queer dry sound, as though +a sudden thirst parched him—and walked heavily from the room. +Hester gazed after him and back at the scissors on the dressing-table. +She was reaching forward to pick them up when a cry from Susannah bade her +hurry. Clem had fainted, his legs doubled beneath him, his head falling +horribly back from his upstretched arms, which still, like ropes, held him +fast to the bed-post.</p> + +<p>Twenty minutes later Hester descended the stairs. Clem was in bed with +his sister's arms about him; and Myra's last look at parting had been one +of dumb gratitude, pitifully asking pardon for old jealousies, old +misunderstandings. At any other time Hester would have rejoiced over the +winning of a friend.</p> + +<p>But the sight of the weals on Clem's back had for the moment killed all +feeling in her but disgust and horror. So deep was her disgust that the +sight of Master Calvin, whom she surprised in the act of listening outside +the door, scarcely ruffled it afresh. So complete was her horror that it +left no room for astonishment when, reaching the foot of the stairs, she +found Mr. Sam himself lingering in the hall, apparently awaiting her.</p> + +<p>She walked past him with set face. All the smooth, pietistic phrases of +his letter rang a chime in her brain, to be retorted upon him as soon as +he dared to speak. But he did not speak. He looked up, as if awaiting +her; took half a step forward; then drew aside and let her pass. She went +by with set face, not sparing a look for him. In the open air she drew a +long breath.</p> + +<br><br> +<p>Above all things she desired to consult with Peter Benny. In this there +was nothing surprising, for everyone in trouble went to Peter Benny. +He himself—honest man—had to admit that the number of confidences which +came his way were, no doubt, extraordinary. He explained it on the simple +ground that he wrote letters for seamen and made it a rule never to +divulge their secrets. "Not that anyone would dream of it," he added; +"but my secrecy, happening to be professional, gets its credit +advertised."</p> + +<p>It appeared that these professional duties were heavier than usual +to-night. At any rate, when Hester reached the little cottage by the +quayside, it was to find that he had made a hasty tea and departed for the +office. In her urgency, after merely telling Mrs. Benny that she would be +back in a few minutes, Hester ran down the court to the office, tapped +hurriedly at the door, and pushed it open.</p> + +<p>Within, with his back towards her, erect and naked to the waist under the +rays of an oil lamp swinging from the beam, stood a young man. The light +falling on his firm shoulders and the muscles along his spine showed the +gleaming flesh tattooed with interwoven patterns, delicate as lacework; +and in the midst, reaching from shoulder-blade to shoulder-blade, a bright +blue tree with a cross above, and beneath it, the figures of Adam and Eve.</p> + +<br><br> +<p>As she drew back, Mr. Benny, on the far side of the office, raised his +eyes from a table over which he bent to dip a needle in a saucer of Indian +ink; and at the same moment the young man under the lamp, suddenly aware +of a visitor, faced about with a shy laugh. It was Tom Trevarthen. +Hester, with a short cry of dismay, backed into the darkness, shutting the +door as she retreated. When Mr. Benny returned to supper he forbore from +alluding to the incident until Hester—her trouble still unconfided—shook +hands with him for the night.</p> + +<p>"I've heard," he said, "folks laugh at sailors for tattooing themselves. +But 'tis done in case they're drowned, that their bodies may be known; +and, if you look at that, 'tis a sacrament surely."</p> + +<br><br> +<p>That night Hester awoke from a terrifying dream; and still, as she dreamed +again, she saw a lash descending on a child's naked back, leaving at each +stroke the mark of a cross interwoven with a strange and delicate pattern; +and at each stroke heard a girl's voice which screamed, "It is a +sacrament!"</p> + + +<br><br> +<p><a name = "21"></a> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXI.</h3> + +<h4>MR. BENNY GETS PROMOTION.</h4> + +<p>Early next morning, having bound Mr. Benny to secrecy, she told him the +whole story. At first his face merely expressed horror; but by and by his +forehead lost its puckers. When she had done, his first comment took her +fairly aback.</p> + +<p>"Ay," said he, "I'd half guessed it a'ready. The poor creature's +afflicted. It don't stand in nature for a man to deal around cruelty as +he's been doing unless his brain is touched."</p> + +<p>"Afflicted is he?" Hester answered indignantly. "I'm afraid I keep all my +pity for those he afflicts."</p> + +<p>"Then you do wrong," replied Mr. Benny, with much gravity. "That man +wants help if ever a man did."</p> + +<p>"He will get none from me, then," she said, and flushed, remembering the +proposal in her pocket. "I won't endure the sight of him, after +yesterday's work. I have written a letter resigning my teachership." + +"That isn't like you, somehow." Mr. Benny stood musing.</p> + +<p>"Of course," she went on hastily, "I don't give my real reasons. +The letter is addressed to you as Clerk, and you will have to read it to +the Board. I am ready to fill the post until another teacher can be +found."</p> + +<p>"It seemed to me, some while ago, that Mr. Samuel had a fancy for you. +Maybe I'm wrong, my dear; but you won't mind my speaking frankly. +And if I'm right, and he has begun pestering you, I can't blame you for +resigning. The man isn't safe."</p> + +<p>His look carried interrogation at once shy and fatherly. She forced +herself to meet his eyes and nod the answer which her cheeks already +published.</p> + +<p>"It is hateful," she murmured. "Yes, he asked me to marry him."</p> + +<p>"I <i>told</i> you he was afflicted," said Mr. Benny, still with simple +seriousness; then, catching a sudden twinkle in her eyes, "Eh? What did I +say? My dear, I didn't mean it that way!"</p> + +<br><br> +<p>Mr. Benny had judged at once more charitably and more correctly than +Hester. Had she looked up yesterday when she passed Mr. Sam at the foot +of the stairs, she might have guessed the truth from his face.</p> + +<p>The man was afflicted, and knew it; had suddenly discovered it, and was +afraid of himself—for the moment, abjectly afraid. All his life he had +been nursing a devil, feeding it on religion, clothing it in +self-righteousness, so carefully touching up its toilet that it passed for +saint rather than devil—especially in his own eyes, trained as they were +in self-deception. For every action, mean or illiberal or tricky or +downright cruel, he had a justificatory text; for his few defeats a +constant salve in the thought that his vanquishers were carnal men, sons +of Belial, and would find, themselves in hell some day. He was Dives or +Lazarus as occasion served. If a plan miscarried, the Lord was chastening +him; if, as oftener happened, it went prosperously, the Lord was looking +after His own; but always the plan itself, being <i>his</i> plan, was certainly +righteous, because he was a righteous man. A good tree could not bring +forth evil fruit.</p> + +<p>But all this while the devil had been growing fat and strong; and now on a +sudden it had burst forth like a giant, mad, uncontrollable, flinging away +disguise, a devil for all to see. There was no text, even in Solomon, +which could be stretched to excuse tying up a small blind child and +flogging him with a belt. He had done a thing for which men go to prison. +Worse, he had not been far from a crime for which the law puts men to +death. In his rage he had been absolutely blind, each blow deadening +prudence, calling for another blow. If Hester Marvin had not run in, +where would he have ended?</p> + +<p>It happened to him now as it has happened to many a man fed upon +conventional religion and accustomed to walk an aisle in public and +eminent godliness. In the moment that he overbalanced public approval his +whole edifice crumbled and collapsed, leaving him no stay. He was down +from his eminence—down with the wild beasts; and among them the worst was +the wild beast within him.</p> + +<p>He had not philosophy enough even to render account with himself why he +hated the small blind child. One reason, and perhaps the chief, was that +he had already injured Clem; another, that Clem stood all unconsciously +between his conscience and his son Calvin. In his fashion Mr. Sam loved +his son, doomed to suffer, if the truth should ever be known, for his +father's bastardy. But—to his credit perhaps—Mr. Sam forgot all excuses +in sheer terror of himself; terror less of what he had done than of what +he might hereafter do.</p> + +<p>In panic of that devil he had placed himself in Hester's way, hoping +against hope that she might help. He had built some hopes on her, and now +in an hour or two all these hopes were merged in a desperate appeal to be +saved from himself. He almost forgot that he had written asking her to be +his wife; he could think only that she might possibly be his salvation. +But Hester had passed him by without a glance. After this, meaning no +cruelty at all, but merely from the instinct of self-preservation (than +which nothing is crueller), he did, as will be seen, the cruellest deed of +his life.</p> + +<br><br> +<p>Mr. Benny was one of those rare souls who never dream of asking a favour +for themselves, but can be shamelessly importunate on behalf of a +fellow-creature. On receipt of Hester's resignation, which she submitted +to him first in private and then sent to him formally through the post, he +panted up the hill to seek an interview with Sir George Dinham.</p> + +<p>"Dear me!" said Sir George; "it happens oddly that I was on the point of +sending for you for the first time; and yet you have been my tenant for +close upon twenty years, I believe?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Benny might have seized the occasion to urge that his roof leaked and +the quay wall beneath his office badly needed repointing. For years he +had submissively relieved Sir George of these and other repairs. +But he had come to engage Sir George's interest for Miss Marvin, a young +person who had just thrown up her position as schoolmistress across the +water, in circumstances perfectly honourable to her. Sir George, perhaps, +would not press to know what those circumstances were; but Mr. Benny had +chanced to hear that the Matron of the Widows' Almshouses had earned her +pension and was resigning, and he ventured to recommend Miss Marvin for +the post.</p> + +<p>"And that again is odd," said Sir George, "for I was wondering if the +situation would be agreeable to her."</p> + +<p>Mr. Benny could scarcely believe his ears.</p> + +<p>"But I think," pursued Sir George, "we had better take one thing at a +time; and I wish to get the first job off my hands, because, strictly +speaking, it is not my business. Lady Killiow (as you may have heard) +requires a new steward, and has commissioned me to choose him for her. +I had thought of you, Mr. Benny."</p> + +<p>"Sir George!"</p> + +<p>"Why not? You were clerk to the late Mr. Rosewarne and enjoyed his +confidence, I believe?"</p> + +<p>"Sir George—Sir George!" Mr. Benny could only repeat with stammering +lips. If, a while ago, he could not believe his ears, just now he felt as +if the sky were tumbling about them.</p> + +<p>"There, my friend, go home and think it over. If you think well of the +offer, be at the ferry at nine o'clock to-morrow. I will meet you there +with the dogcart, and we can talk matters over on our way to Damelioc. +From Damelioc, after your interview with Lady Killiow, we will drive +straight to Bodmin; for I think you may be able to guess the first task +she will lay upon you as her steward."</p> + +<p>But Mr. Benny was too far bewildered.</p> + +<p>"She will ask you, if I am not mistaken, to make arrangements for bringing +home old Nicholas Vro's body and burying him where, as he would have said, +he belongs to lie—in his own parish churchyard. There are no relatives +to be consulted?"</p> + +<p>"Neither chick nor child, kith nor kin, Sir George."</p> + +<p>"God forgive me, I had come near saying 'so much the better.' +Lady Killiow is a proud woman, as you know, and of a pride that would +rejoice in bearing the fullest blame and making fullest amends. +But her friends can only be glad to get this scandal over and as quietly +as may be. I have written for the necessary order."</p> + +<br><br> +<p>Once before we have seen Mr. Benny tempted to keep a secret from his wife. +This time he would have told, but could not. He sat down to tea with a +choking breast and a heart so big within him that it left no room for +food. He strove to eat, but could get no morsel past his lips. +At one moment the news seemed to bubble up within him, and his mouth +opened to shout it aloud; the next, his courage failed at his own vaunting +thoughts, and he reached a hand down to the table-leg, to 'touch wood,' +as humble men do to avert Nemesis if by chance they have let slip a +boastful word. Once he laughed outright, wildly, at nothing whatever.</p> + +<p>Nuncey set down the teapot and eyed her parent with a puzzled frown. +That frown had sat too often on her cheerful face during the past three +months. In truth, Mr. Benny as a regrater fell disastrously short of +success, being prone to sell at monstrous overweights, which ate up the +profits. When Nuncey at length forbade him to touch the scales, he gave +away apples to every child that chose to edge around the tail of the cart.</p> + +<p>"There's something wrong with father to-night," she said. "He's like a +thing hurried-in-mind. What's up with 'ee, my dear?—is it verses?" +She paused with a sudden dark suspicion. "I see'd William Badgery walkin' +after you down the street. Don't tell me you've let 'en persuade you into +buying that lot of eggs he was preachin' up for fresh? for, if you have, I +get no shoes this Christmas—that's all. Fresh? He've been salting them +down these three months, against the Christmas prices, and no size in 'em +to start with. I wouldn't sell 'em for sixpence the dozen."</p> + +<p>"Shoes?" Good Lord, what a question these boots and shoes had been for +all these years! Never a Saturday came round (it seemed to him) but one +or other of the family wanted soleing or heeling. And henceforth they +could all have shoes to their heart's content—and frocks—and new suits— +and meat on the table without stint—</p> + +<p>He set down his cup and rose hurriedly. In the act of pushing back his +chair he met his wife's eyes. They were watching him with anxious +concern—not with apparent love; but he alone knew what love lay behind +that look which once or twice of late he had surprised in them. +His own filled with sudden tears. No, he could not tell her now. +To-night, perhaps, when he and she were alone, he would tell her, as so +often he had told his worries and listened to hers. He dashed his frayed +cuff across his eyes and fairly bolted from the room.</p> + +<p>"It's about Nicky Vro that he's troublin'," said Mrs. Benny. +"Terrible soft-hearted he is; but you ought to know your father better by +this time than to upset 'en so."</p> + +<br><br> +<p>An hour later word came to Hester—it was Shake who brought it—that Mr. +Benny would be glad to see her in the office. She obeyed at once, albeit +with some trepidation when she came to mount the steps and tap at the +door. She had learnt, however, from Nuncey that certain nights were set +aside for tattooing. Doubtless this would not be one of them.</p> + +<p>Four seamen sat within by the stove and under the light of the swinging +lamp, smoking, patiently awaiting their turn. In the fog of tobacco +smoke, which almost took Hester's breath away, they rose politely and +saluted her. Big, shy boys they seemed to her, with the whites of their +eyes extraordinarily clear against their swarthy complexions. Somehow she +felt at home with them instantly, and no more afraid than if they had been +children in her school.</p> + +<p>One of them called Mr. Benny from the tiny inner office, or cupboard, +where he conducted his confidential business, and the little man came +running out in a flurry with one hand grasping a handkerchief and the +other nervously thrust in his dishevelled hair.</p> + +<p>"You will forgive me, my dear, for sending? The truth is, I am at my +wits' end to-night and cannot concentrate myself. I have heard news +to-day—no, nothing to distress me—on the contrary."—He gazed round +helplessly. "It has upset me, though. I was wondering if you will be +very kind and help me?"</p> + +<p>"Help you?" echoed Hester. "Oh, Mr. Benny, you surely don't ask me to +write your letters for you!"</p> + +<p>"Not if you would find it distasteful, my dear."</p> + +<p>"But I don't know; I assure you I haven't an idea how to do it!"</p> + +<p>"You would find it come easy, for that matter." Mr. Benny drew a quill +pen from behind his right ear, eyed its point dejectedly for a moment, and +replaced it. "But, of course, if you feel like that, we'll say no more +about it, and I'm sorry to have troubled you."</p> + +<p>"If it's merely writing down from dictation—"</p> + +<p>"You will find it a little more than <i>that</i>," Mr. Benny admitted.</p> + +<p>Hester looked around on the faces of the seamen. They said nothing; they +even watched her with sympathy, as though, while dumbly backing Mr. +Benny's petition, they felt him to be asking too much; yet she divined +that they were disappointed.</p> + +<p>"I will try," she said with sudden resolve, and their approving murmur at +once rewarded her. "Only you must be patient, and forgive my mistakes."</p> + +<p>"That's a very good lass," said one of them aloud, as Mr. Benny shook her +by the hand and led her triumphantly to the little inner office. +Hester heard the words, and in spite of nervousness was glad that she had +chosen to be brave.</p> + +<p>The inner office contained a desk, a stool, and a deal chair. These, with +a swinging lamp, a shelf of books, and a Band of Hope Almanack, completed +its furniture. Indeed, it had room for no more, and its narrow dimensions +were dwarfed just now by an enormous black-bearded seaman seated in the +chair by the window, which stood open to the darkness. Although the month +was December, the wind blew softly from the southwest, and night had +closed in with a fine warm drizzle of rain. Beyond the window the +riding-lights of the vessels at anchor shone across the gently heaving +tide.</p> + +<p>The black-bearded seaman made a motion to rise, but realising that this +would seriously displace the furniture, contented himself with a +'Good-evening, miss,' and dropped back in his seat.</p> + +<p>"Good-evening," answered Hester. "Mr. Benny here has asked me to take his +place. I hope you don't mind?"</p> + +<p>"Lord bless you, I like it."</p> + +<p>"But I shall make a poor hand of it, I'm afraid."</p> + +<p>The man eyed her solemnly for five or six seconds, slowly turned the quid +of tobacco in his cheek, and spat out of window. "We'll get along +famous," he said.</p> + +<p>"He likes the window open," explained Mr. Benny, "because—"</p> + +<p>"I see." Hester nodded.</p> + +<p>"But I'll run and fetch a cloak for you." Without waiting for an answer, +Mr. Benny hurried from the office.</p> + +<p>To be deserted thus was more than Hester had bargained for, and for a +moment she felt helplessly dismayed. A sheet of paper, half-covered with +writing, lay on the desk, and she put out a hand for it.</p> + +<p>"Is this your letter? Perhaps you'll allow me to read it and see how far +you and Mr. Benny have gone."</p> + +<p>"That's the way. Only you mustn' give me no credit for it: I sits and +looks on. 'Never take a hand in a business you don't know'—that's my +motto."</p> + +<p>Hester wished devoutly that it had also been hers. She picked up the +paper and read—</p> + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p class = "noindent">"Dear Wife,—This comes hoping to find you in health as it leaves me + at present, and the children hearty. We made a good passage, and + arrived at Troy on the 14th inst., a romantic little harbour + picturesquely situated on the south coast of Cornwall. + Once a flourishing port, second only to London and Bristol, and still + retaining in its ivy-clad fort some vestiges of its former glories, + it requires the eye of imagination to summon back the days when + (as Hals tells us) it manned and sent forth more than forty ships to + the siege of Calais, A.D. 1347—"</p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + +<p>Hester glanced at her client dubiously.</p> + +<p>"That's all right, ain't it?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Ye—es." + +"Far as I remember, it tallies with the last letter he fixed up for me. +Something about 'grey old walls' there was, too."</p> + +<p>"Yes, that comes two sentences below—</p> + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p class = "noindent"> "Confronted with these evidences of decay, the visitor instinctively + exclaims to himself, 'If these grey old walls could speak, what a + tale might they not unfold!'—"</p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + +<p>"So he've put that in again? There's what you might call a sameness about +Benny, though he <i>do</i> write different to anybody else."</p> + +<p>"And here are more dates, and an epitaph from one of the tombstones in the +churchyard! Indeed, Mr."—</p> + +<p>"Salt. Tobias Salt—<i>and</i> by natur'."</p> + +<p>"Indeed, Mr. Salt, I can't write a letter like this. To begin with, I +haven't the knowledge."</p> + +<p>"The Lord forbid!"</p> + +<p>"But I suppose your wife likes to read about these things?"</p> + +<p>"She can't read a word, bless you. She gets the parson to spell it out to +her, or the seamen's missionary. Yarmouth our home is."</p> + +<p>"She likes to hear about them, then?"</p> + +<p>"What? Sarah? Lord love ye, miss, you should see the woman!" +Mr. Salt chuckled heavily, and wound up by sending a squirt of +tobacco-juice out into darkness. "Mother of eight children, she is, and +makes 'em toe the mark at school and Sunday school. A woman like that +don't bother about grey old walls."</p> + +<p>"You are proud of her, I see."</p> + +<p>"Ought to be, I reckon. Why, to-day she can pick up two three-gallon +pitchers o' water and heft 'em along for a mile and more without turning a +hair."</p> + +<p>"And the children? How old are they?"</p> + +<p>"Eldest just turned eleven."</p> + +<p>"Why, then he must be able to read?"</p> + +<p>"'Tisn't a he, 'tis a her. Ay, I reckon 'Melia Jane should read well +before this."</p> + +<p>Hester took a fresh sheet of paper and began to write.</p> + +<p>"Listen to this, please," she said after a few sentences, "and tell me if +it will do—"</p> + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p class = "noindent">"Dear Wife,—This comes hoping to find you in health, as it leaves me + at present, and the children hearty. I am sending this from Troy, + and I daresay you will take it to some friend to read; but tell + Amelia Jane, with my love, that in future she shall read her father's + letters to you. She must be getting a scholar by this time; and if + there's anything she can't explain, why you can take it to a friend + afterwards. We reached this port last Tuesday (the 14th) after a + good passage—"</p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + +<p>"Now tell me about your passage, please."</p> + +<p>At first Mr. Salt could only tell her that the passage had been a good +one, as passages go. But by feeding him with a suggestion or two, as men +feed a pump with a little water to make it work, by and by she found +herself listening to information in a flood. Now and then she interposed +a question, asking mainly about his wife and the home at Yarmouth. +She had picked up her pen again, and he, absorbed in his confidences, did +not perceive at what a rate she was making it travel over the paper.</p> + +<p>The door opened, and Mr. Benny reappeared with a shawl on his arm. +He glanced around nervously. "Mr. Salt, Mr. Salt! I put it to you, this +isn't quite fair. A fine talk I can hear you're having; but our friends +outside are getting impatient, and want to know when you'll let Miss +Marvin begin."</p> + +<p>"All right, boss. I've had a yarn here that's worth all the money. +Here's your shilling for it, and the letter can stand over till +to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"But I've written it!" Hester exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"Written it!" Mr. Salt's jaw dropped in amazement.</p> + +<p>"I don't know if it will do. Shall I read it over?"</p> + +<p>"Well, but this beats conjuring!" The reading ended, Mr. Salt slapped his +massive thigh.</p> + +<p>"You have done very well, my dear," said Mr. Benny; "very well indeed. +You have caught, as I might say, the note. Now I myself have great +difficulty in being literary and at the same time catching the note."</p> + +<p>There was something in the little man's confession—so modest, so generous +withal—which drew tears to her eyes, though her own elation may have had +some share in them.</p> + +<p>"Though there's one thing she've forgotten," said Mr. Salt, with a +twinkle. "My poor Sarah will get shock enough over this letter as 'tis; +but she'll get a worse one if we leave out the money order."</p> + +<p>The order having been made out in form, ready for him to take to the post +office, Mr. Salt bade farewell. They could hear him extolling, on his way +through the outer office, the talent of the operator within.</p> + +<p>"I feel like a dentist!" whispered Hester, turning to Mr. Benny with a +smile. The little man was looking at her wistfully.</p> + +<p>"Shall I call in the next?" he asked. "I am afraid, my dear, you are +finding this a longer job than you bargained for."</p> + +<p>"But I am enjoying it," she protested. "That is, if—Mr. Benny, you are +not annoyed by his foolish praises?"</p> + +<p>"My dear," he answered gravely, "they say that all literary persons are +jealous. If I were jealous it would not be because Mr. Salt praised you, +but because my own sense tells me that you do better than I what I have +been doing for twenty years."</p> + +<p>"If you feel like that, I won't write another letter," declared Hester.</p> + +<p>"That would be very foolish, my dear. And now I will tell you another +thing. Suppose that this discovery hurt me a little, yet see how good God +is in keeping back all these years until a moment when my heart happens to +be so full of good news that it forgets the soreness in a moment; and +again, how wise in gently correcting and reminding me of weakness when I +might be puffing myself up and believing that all my good fortune came of +my own merit."</p> + +<p>"What is your good news, dear Mr. Benny?"</p> + +<p>"You shall hear later on when I have told my wife."</p> + +<br><br> +<p>More than an hour later, having dismissed her clients (for the last of +whom she had to compose a love-letter, the first she had written in her +life), Hester stepped across to the cottage to announce that her work was +over and ask if she might now turn down the lamps and rake out the stove.</p> + +<p>The Bennys' kitchen at first glance was uninhabited; and yet, as she +opened the door, she had heard voices within. Dropping her eyes to a +lower level, she halted on the threshold and would have withdrawn without +noise. In the penumbra beyond the circle of the lamp and the white +tablecloth Mr. and Mrs. Benny, Nuncey, and Shake were kneeling by their +chairs on the limeash, giving thanks.</p> + +<p>While Hester hesitated, the little man lifted his head, and, catching +sight of her, sprang to his feet. "Step ye in, my dear, and join with us! +For you, too, have news to hear and be thankful for."</p> + +<p>"But tell me your own good news and let me first be thankful for that."</p> + +<p>"Do'ee really feel like that towards us?" asked Nuncey, rising and coming +forward with joy and eager love in her eyes.</p> + +<p>"I ought to, surely, after these months of kindness."</p> + +<p>"Well, then—but first of all I must kiss 'ee, you dear thing!—well, +then, Dad's been offered Damelioc stewardship, and you're to be Mistress +of the Widows' Houses, and we're all going to be rich as Creases for ever +and ever, Amen!"</p> + +<p>"Croesus, my dear—besides, we're going to be nothing of the sort," +protested her father.</p> + +<p>Nuncey swept down upon him, caught him in her strong embrace, implanted a +sound kiss on the top of his head, and held him at arms' length with a +hand on either shoulder.</p> + +<p>"You're a dear little well-to-do father, and the best in the world. +But oh! you've come nigh breaking my heart these three months—for a worse +regrater there never was, an' couldn' be!"</p> + +<p>"Upon my word," said Mr. Benny, glancing over her shoulder at Hester with +a twinkle, "I seem to be getting good fortune with a heap of chastening."</p> + + +<br><br> +<p><a name = "22"></a> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXII.</h3> + +<h4>CLEM IS LOST TO MYRA.</h4> + +<p>The post of 'Mistress' to the Widows' Houses was a somewhat singular one. +The hospital itself had been founded in 1634 by an ancestor of Sir George +Dinham's, and dedicated to St. Peter, as a retreat for eleven poor women, +widows of husbands drowned at sea. From a narrow cobbled lane, behind the +parish church and in the shadow of its tower, you passed into a +quadrangle, two sides of which were formed by the lodgings, twelve in +number (the twelfth occupied by the caretaker, or Mistress), the other two +by the wash-house and store-buildings. In the centre of this courtyard +stood a leaden pump, approached by four pebbled paths between radiating +beds of flowers—Provence roses, Madonna lilies, and old perennials and +biennials such as honesty, sweet-william, snapdragon, the pink and white +everlasting pea, with bushes of fuchsia, southernwood, and rosemary. +Along the first floor of the alms-buildings ran a deep open gallery, or +upstairs cloister, where in warm weather the old women sat and knitted or +gossiped in the shade.</p> + +<p>The rule restricting admission to the widows of drowned mariners had been +gradually relaxed during the last fifty years, and was now a dead letter; +aged spinsters even, such as Aunt Butson, being received in default of +applicants with better title. Also Sir George's father, having once on a +time been called upon to depose a caretaker for ill-using the inmates, had +replaced her by a gentlewoman; and thinking to safeguard them in future by +increasing the dignity of the post, had rebuilt and enlarged the new +Mistress's lodgings, and increased her salary by endowment to £eighty +per annum.</p> + +<p>All this Sir George explained very delicately to Hester, on the morning of +Nicky Vro's funeral, having called at the school to seek an interview on +his way back from the churchyard.</p> + +<p>"But I am not a decayed gentlewoman," Hester objected; "at least, not yet. +I shall be standing in the way of someone who really wants this post, +while I am strong and able to earn my living. Also—please do not think +me ungrateful or conceited—to teach is my calling, and I take a pride in +it."</p> + +<p>"From all I hear, you have a right to take pride in it. But may I say +that these objections occurred to me and that I have a scheme for removing +them—a very happy scheme, if you will help. Now, in the first place, +will you put the personal question out of sight and consider my scheme on +its merits? And next, will you, in advising me, take account of my +ignorance?"</p> + +<p>Hester smiled. "I know," she said, "that kindness can be cunning. +I am going to be on my guard."</p> + +<p>"Well, but listen at any rate," he pleaded, with an eager stammer. +"Won't you agree with me that the education you give these children here +is dreadfully wasteful?"</p> + +<p>She glanced at him keenly. "If you are taking the ordinary ratepayer's +view—" she began.</p> + +<p>"I am not taking the ordinary ratepayer's view, except to this extent— +that I think the ratepayers' and taxpayers' money should be spent to the +best advantage. But is it?—either here or in any parish in England?"</p> + +<p>"No, it is not."</p> + +<p>"Will you tell me why, Miss Marvin?"</p> + +<p>"Because," answered Hester, "we do a little good and then refuse to follow +it up. If we were to take a child and say, 'You shall be a farm +labourer,' or 'You shall be a domestic servant, and in due time marry a +labourer and rear his family; 'and if, content with this, we were to teach +these children just enough for their fate—the boy to plough and work a +threshing machine and touch his cap to his betters, the girl to cook and +sew and keep house on sixteen shillings a week—why, then there might be +something to say for us. We have not the heart to do this, and yet in +effect we do more cruelly. We are not tyrants enough to take a child of +eight and label him for life: we start him on a kind of education which +seems to offer him a chance; and then, just as the prospect should be +opening, we suddenly lose interest in him, wash our hands of him, turn him +adrift. Some few—a very few—have the grit to push on, unhelped by us, +and grasp their opportunity. But for one of these a thousand and more +fall back on their fate, and of our teaching the one thing they keep is +discontent. We have built a porch, to nowhere. We invest millions; and +just as our investment begins to repay us splendidly, we sell out, share +by share. That is why I think sometimes, Sir George, in my bitterness, +that education in England must be the most wasteful thing in the world."</p> + +<p>"If, in this corner of England, someone were to set himself to fight this +waste, would you help?"</p> + +<p>"As Mistress of the Widows' Houses?"</p> + +<p>Sir George laughed. "As Mistress of the Widows' Houses—and of a school +attached. I am thinking of a Charterhouse or a Christ's Hospital in a +small way; a foundation, that is, to include the old charity and a new and +efficient school; modern education worked on lines of the old collegiate +mediæval systems—eh, Miss Marvin? To me, a high Tory, those old +foundations are still our best models."</p> + +<p>"Three or four of them have survived," said Hester gravely, and with as +little of irony as she could contrive. "Forgive me, Sir George—once more +I am going to speak ungratefully—but though neglect be our chief curse +just now, a worse may follow when rich folks wake up and endow education +in a hurry."</p> + +<p>"You condemn me offhand for a faddist?"</p> + +<p>"If you would only see that these things need an apprenticeship! +Take this very combination of school and hospital. Three or four have +survived, and are lodged in picturesque buildings, where they keep +picturesque old customs, and seem to you very noble and venerable. +So indeed they are. But what of the hundreds that have perished? +And of these survivors can you tell me one in which either the school or +the alms-house has not gone to the wall? The school, we will say, grows +into an expensive one for the sons of rich men; the almshouse dwindles +from a college for poor gentlemen down to a home into which wealthy men +job their retired servants. I grant you that our modern attempts to +combine almsgiving with teaching are not much better as a rule—are, +perhaps, even a little worse. If you have ever walked through one of our +public orphanages, for instance—"</p> + +<p>Sir George's face fell. "I have never visited one, Miss Marvin, and I +subscribe perhaps to half a dozen—out of sheer laziness, and because to +subscribe comes easier than to say 'No.' Yes; I am an incurable amateur, +and you are right, no doubt, in laughing at my scheme and refusing to look +at it."</p> + +<p>"But I don't, Sir George. I even think it may succeed, as it deserves, +and reward your kindness. Yes, and I have been arguing against myself as +much as against you, to warn myself against hoping too much. For there +must be disappointments."</p> + +<p>"What disappointments?"</p> + +<p>"Well, to begin with, you rich folks are impatient; you expect your money +to buy success at once and of itself. And then you expect gratitude."</p> + +<p>"I do not," Sir George asserted stoutly.</p> + +<p>"At least," said Hester, "it is only too plain that you are not getting +it." She dropped him a small deprecatory curtsey and laughed. +"And yet I <i>am</i> grateful."</p> + +<p>"Yes," he answered gravely; "I understand. But since you do not quite +despise my scheme, will you come and discuss it with me, believing only +that I am in earnest?"</p> + +<p>So it was arranged that Hester should call on him next evening and go +through the plans he had been preparing for a week past. That such an +interview defied convention scarcely crossed her mind or his, Sir George +being one of those men who can neglect convention because their essential +honour stands above question. He received her in his library, and for an +hour they talked as might two men of business in friendly committee for +some public good.</p> + +<p>"By the way," said he, glancing up from his papers, "you were talking +yesterday of public orphanages. Have you heard that your little friend +Clem—the blind child—has been packed off to one?"</p> + +<p>"To an orphanage?" Hester echoed. "The children were not at school +to-day, but I had not heard a sound of this."</p> + +<p>"It is true; for I happened to call in at the station this morning, and +there on the platform I met Rosewarne with the child. The man was taking +his ticket to Paddington—a single ticket half-fare; and overhearing this +as we stood together by the booking-office, I made bold to ask him a few +questions. The child was to travel alone, in charge of the guard; to be +met at the journey's end, I suppose, by an official, and taken out to the +orphanage—I forget its name—an institution for the blind somewhere out +in the south-eastern suburbs."</p> + +<p>"Poor Myra!"</p> + +<p>"'Poor Clem!' I should rather say. He was not crying over it, but he +looked pretty forlorn and white, and his blindness made it pitiable. +I call it brutal; the man at least might have travelled up for company. +A journey of three hundred miles!"</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, Hester chiefly pitied Myra. As for Clem, the news relieved +her mind in part; since after witnessing Mr. Sam's outburst, she had more +than once shivered at the thought of child and uncle continuing to live +under one roof.</p> + +<br><br> +<p>Poor Myra had spent the day pacing up and down her room like a caged +beast. The fate decreed and overhanging Clem had been concealed from her. +Had it been less incredible, instinct surely would have wakened her +suspicions before the last moment. At the last moment Susannah, having to +dress the child for his journey, met inquiries with the half-hearted lie +that he was bound on a trip to Plymouth with his uncle, to meet Aunt +Hannah, and return after a day or two in the <i>Virtuous Lady</i>. Susannah— +weak soul—had furthered the conspiracy because she too had begun to fear +for Clem, and wished him well clear of his uncle's roof. She acted +'for the best,' but broke down in the act of tearing the children asunder, +and told her lie shamefacedly. The result was that Mr. Sam, hearing +Myra's screams overhead as he paced the hall, had rushed upstairs, caught +her by both wrists as she clung to her brother, forced her into her own +bedroom, and turned and pocketed the key.</p> + +<p>Four times since, in that interminable day of anguish, Susannah had come +pleading and whimpering to the door with food. Mr. Sam, on returning from +the station, had given her the key with instructions to release the girl +on a promise of good behaviour.</p> + +<p>"Be sensible, Miss Myra—now, do! 'Tis to a home he's gone, where he'll be +looked after and taught and tended, and you'll see him every holidays. +A fine building, sure 'nough! Look, I've brought you a picture of it!"</p> + +<p>Susannah, defying instructions, had unlocked and opened the door. +Myra snatched the paper from her—it was, in fact, a prospectus of the +institution—crumpled it up and thrust it in her pocket. With that, the +last gust of her passion seemed to spend itself. She turned, and walking +straight to the window-seat, coiled herself among the cushions with face +averted and chin upon hand. To Susannah the traitress she deigned no +word.</p> + +<p>Thrice again Susannah came pleading, each time with a tray and something +to tempt Myra's appetite. Myra did not turn her head. Departing for the +fourth time, Susannah left the door ajar. The siege, then, was raised, +the imprisonment over. Myra listened to her footsteps descending the +stairs, walked to the door, shifted the key from the outer to the inner +keyhole, and locked herself in. By this time the wintry dusk had begun to +fall. Resuming her seat by the window, she fell to watching the courtyard +again, her body motionless, her small brain working.</p> + +<p>Dusk had deepened to darkness in the courtyard when she heard a footfall +she recognised. It was Archelaus Libby's, on his way home from school to +his loft, to deposit his books there and wash before seeking his tea in +the kitchen.</p> + +<p>Myra straightened her body, and opened the window softly.</p> + +<p>"Archelaus!" she called as loudly as she dared.</p> + +<p>"Miss Myra?" The footsteps halted.</p> + +<p>"Hush, Archelaus, and come nearer. I want you to do something for me."</p> + +<p>"Yes, Miss Myra."</p> + +<p>"It may get you into trouble. I want you to fetch the short ladder from +under the linhay, and fix it against the window here, without making a +noise."</p> + +<p>For a moment he made no answer. But he had understood; for she heard him +walking away toward the linhay, and by and by he returned panting, and +sloped the ladder against the sill as she bade him. By this time Myra had +found a plateful of biscuits, and crammed her pocket full, and was ready +to descend.</p> + +<p>"But what is the meaning of it?" asked Archelaus, as she clambered down to +him.</p> + +<p>"They have stolen away Clem, and this morning they locked me in. Now take +the ladder back and hang it in its place, and I will thank you for ever +and ever."</p> + +<p>"But I don't understand!" protested Archelaus. "Stolen away Master Clem? +Who has stolen him? And what are you going to do?"</p> + +<p>"I am going to find him—that's all," said Myra, and ran off into the +darkness.</p> + +<p>She could reckon on two friends in the world—Mr. Benny and Tom +Trevarthen. Aunt Hannah was far away, and Miss Marvin (though now +forgiven, and indeed worshipped for having interfered to protect Clem from +his flogging) could not be counted on for effective help.</p> + +<p>Tom Trevarthen and Mr. Benny—it was on Tom that she pinned her hope; for +Tom (she had heard) was shipped on board the <i>One-and-All</i> schooner; and +the <i>One-and-All</i> was ready to sail for London; and somewhere near +London—so the paper in her pocket had told her—lay the dreadful place in +which Clem was hidden. She could find the vessel; the <i>One-and-All</i> was +moored—or had been moored last night—at the buoy under the hill, ready +for sea. But to find the vessel and to find Tom Trevarthen were two very +different things. To begin with, Tom would be useless unless she +contrived to speak with him alone; to row straight to the schooner and +hail her would spoil all. Moreover, on the night before sailing he would, +most likely, be enjoying himself ashore. But where? Peter Benny might be +able to tell. Peter Benny had a wonderful knack of knowing the movements +of every seaman in the port.</p> + +<p>She ran down the dark street to the alley over which poor Nicky Vro's +signboard yet glimmered in the light of the oil lamp at the entrance. +The cottage still lacked a tenant, and it had been nobody's business to +take the board down. On the frape at the alley's end his ferryboat lay +moored as he had left it. Myra tugged at the rope and drew the boat in.</p> + +<p>As it drew alongside out of the darkness she leapt on board and cast off. +The paddles, as she laboriously shipped them between the thole-pins, were +unconscionably heavy; she knew little of rowing, and nothing of +double-sculling. But the tide helped her. By pulling now one paddle, now +another, she worked the boat across and down towards the ladder and the +quay-door at the end of Mr. Benny's yard.</p> + +<p>Nearing it, she found herself in slack water, and the boat became more +manageable, giving her time between the strokes to glance over her +shoulder and scan the dark shadow under the longshore wall, where each +garden and alley-way had its quay-door and its ladder reaching down into +the tide. Now the most of these quay-doors were painted green or blue, +but Mr. Benny's a light grey, which in the darkness should have made it +easily discernible. Yet for some while she could not find it.</p> + +<p>Suddenly, as she threaded her way along, scarcely using her paddles now +except to fend off the boats which, lying peaceably at their moorings, +seemed to crowd around with intent to impede her, a schooner's masts and +spars loomed up before her high against the inky night. Then she +understood. The vessel—her name, the <i>One-and-All</i>, in white letters on +her forward bulwarks, glimmered into sight as Myra passed—lay warped +alongside the wall, with her foreyard braced aslant to avoid chafing the +roof of Mr. Benny's office, and her mainmast and standing rigging all but +entirely hiding Mr. Benny's quay-door, the approach to which she +completely obstructed. A little above her forestay a small window, +uncurtained and brightly lit, broke the long stretch of featureless black +wall. This was the window of Mr. Benny's inner office, and within, as she +checked her way, catching at the gunwale of one among the tethered boats, +Myra could see the upper half of a hanging lamp and the shadow of its +reflector on the smoky ceiling.</p> + +<p>Mr. Benny would be seated under that lamp, no doubt. But how could she +reach him?</p> + +<p>The <i>One-and-All</i> lay head-to-stream, and so deep in the water that the +tide all but washed her bulwarks, still grey with the dust of china-stone +as she had come from her loading. Nowadays no British ship so +scandalously overladen would be allowed to put to sea; but the +Plimsoll-mark had not yet been invented to save seamen from their +employers.</p> + +<p>She lay so low that Myra, peering into the darkness, could almost see +across decks to the farther bulwarks; and the decks were deserted. +She mounted no riding-lamp, and no glimmer of light showed from hatchway, +deckhouse, or galley.</p> + +<p>Minutes passed, and, as still no sign of life appeared on board, Myra grew +bolder and pushed across for a nearer view. Yes; the deck was deserted, +and only the deck intervened between her and Mr. Benny's quay-door, by the +sill of which the tide ran lapping and sucking at the crevices of the +wall. She hardened her heart. Even if her footstep gave the alarm below, +she could dash across and through the doorway before being seized or even +detected. She laid both hands on the clay-dusted bulwarks and hoisted +herself gently. The boat—she had done with it—slipped away noiselessly +from under her and away into darkness.</p> + +<p>She had meant to clear the ship with a rush; but as her feet touched the +deck her courage failed her, and she tiptoed forward stealthily, gaining +the shadow of the deckhouse and pausing there.</p> + +<p>And there, in the act of crouching to spring across the few remaining +yards, she drew back, crouching lower yet; for, noiseless as she, the dark +form of a man had stepped forward and framed itself in the grey glimmering +doorway.</p> + +<p>For an instant she made sure that he was about to step on board. But many +seconds passed, and still he waited there—as it seemed to her, in the +attitude of a man listening; though to what he listened she could not +guess. She herself heard no sound but the lapping of the tide.</p> + +<p>By and by, gripping the ladder-rail and setting one foot against the +<i>One-and-All's</i> bulwarks to steady himself, the man leaned outboard and +sideways until a faint edge of light from the office window fell on his +upturned face.</p> + +<p>It was the face of her uncle.</p> + +<p>Fascinated by terror, following his gaze—by instinct seeking for help, if +any might be found—Myra lifted her face to the window. That too was +darkened for the instant by a man's form; and as he crossed the room to +the chair beside the desk, she recognised Tom Trevarthen.</p> + + + +<br><br> +<p><a name = "23"></a> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXIII.</h3> + +<h4>HESTER WRITES A LOVE-LETTER.</h4> + +<p>Mr. Salt must have been preaching Hester's talent at large among seamen of +the port, for when she returned from her interview with Sir George +Mr. Benny met her at the kitchen door with news that no less than six +sailors awaited her in the office, and that two or three had been +patiently expecting her for an hour at least.</p> + +<p>"Tis a great tax on you, my dear, and I tried to reason wi' them; but they +wouldn't take 'No' for an answer. What's more, when I retire from the +business I shan't be honestly able to sell you the goodwill of it, +for they won't have my services at any price."</p> + +<p>Hester laughed. "You won't even get me to bid," she assured him. +"We shall soon be too busy for letter-writing, and must close the office; +but to-night I suppose we cannot disappoint them."</p> + +<p>So, with a sigh of resignation and an envious glance at the cosy fire, +she turned and stepped briskly down the courtyard to the office. +There, as Mr. Benny had promised, she found six expectant mariners, and +for an hour wrote busily, rapidly. Either she was growing cleverer at the +business, or her talk with Sir George had keyed her to this happy pitch. +She felt—it happens sometimes, if rarely, to most of us—in tune with all +the world; and in those illuminated hours we feel as if our +fellow-creatures could bring us no secret too obscure for our +understanding, no trouble hopeless of our help. "The light of the body is +the eye; if, therefore, thine eye be single, thy whole body shall be full +of light." Hester found herself divining without effort what her clients +wished her to write, and as easily translating the inarticulate message +into words. It was superfluous for them to thank her as they did; her own +inner voice told her she had done well.</p> + +<p>At length they were gone, and she followed them so far as the outer +office, to rake out the fire and tidy up for the night. As she stooped +over the stove she was startled by a noise from the inner room—a noise as +of someone moving the window-sash. But how could this be? Perhaps the +sash-cord had parted, letting the pane slip down with a run—</p> + +<p>It did not occur to her, though startled for the moment, to be afraid, or +even to suspect any cause for fear. Her mind was still busy with this +practical explanation when she opened the door and her eyes fell on Tom +Trevarthen.</p> + +<p>His back was turned towards her as he closed the window by which he had +just entered; but he faced about with a smile, ignoring the alarm in her +face and the hand she put out against the door-jamb for support.</p> + +<p>"Good-evenin', miss! You'll excuse my coming by the shortest way—"</p> + +<p>"But—but <i>how</i> did you come?" she gasped.</p> + +<p>He laughed. "Easy enough: I swung myself up by the schooner's forestay. +Eh? Didn't you know the <i>One-and-All's</i> moored here just underneath? +Then I must ha' given you a rare fright."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Hester, slowly getting back her composure, "you certainly +frightened me; and I call it a very silly trick."</p> + +<p>She said it with a sudden vehemence which surprised herself. It brought +the colour back to her face, too. The young sailor stared at her.</p> + +<p>"Well," he said admiringly, "you have a temper! But there's times when +<i>you</i> make mistakes, I reckon."</p> + +<p>She supposed him to allude to her unhappy intrusion upon the tattooing. +Her colour deepened to a hot and lively red, and between shame and scorn +she turned and walked from him into the outer office.</p> + +<p>"Nay, now!" He followed her, suppliant. "Nay, now!" he repeated, as one +might coax a child. "Simme I can't open my mouth 'ithout angering you, +Miss Marvin; an' yet, ignorant as I be, 'tis plain to me you don't mean no +hurt."</p> + +<p>Now Hester had meant to walk straight out of the office and leave him. +It would be hard to say precisely on what second thought she checked +herself and, picking up the poker, sedulously resumed her raking-out of +the stove. Partly, no doubt, she repented of having taken offence when he +meant none. He had been innocent, and her suspicion of him recoiled back +in self-contempt. It was a relief to hear him in turn accusing her +unjustly. It gave her fresh ground, on which she really could defend +herself.</p> + +<p>"Hurt?" she echoed half defiantly, stooping and raking at the cinders.</p> + +<p>"Why, of course, you hurt," he insisted. "'Tis so queer to me you can't +see it. Just reckon up all the harm this Rosewarne have a-done and is +doing: Mother Butson's school closed, and the poor soul bedridden with +rheumatics, all through being forced to seek field-work, at her time o' +life and in this autumn's weather! My old mother driven into a +charity-house. Nicky Vro dead in Bodmin gaol. Where was the fair play? +Master Clem, I hear, parted from his sister and packed off this very day +to a home in London—lucky if 'tis better'n a gaol—"</p> + +<p>"Do you accuse <i>me</i> of all these wrongs?"</p> + +<p>"No, I don't. But in most of 'em you've been mixed up, and in all of 'em +you might have used power over the man. Where have you put in an oar +except to make matters worse?"</p> + +<p>It was on her lips to tell him that she had resigned the teachership; but +she forbore.</p> + +<p>"Do you know," she answered quietly, "that half-truths may be worse than +lies, and a charge which is half-true the most cruelly unjust? We will +agree that I have done more harm here than good. But do you accuse me of +doing it wilfully, selfishly?"</p> + +<p>"That's where I can't make you out," he said. "I can't even make out your +doing wrong at all. Thinks I sometimes, ''Tis all a mistake. Go, look at +her face, all made for goodness if ever a face was; try her once more, an' +you'll be sorry for thinkin' ill of her.' That's the way of it. But then +I come and find you mixed up in this miserable business, and all that's +kind in you seems to harden, and all that's straight to run crooked. +There's times I think you couldn't do wrong if you weren't so sure of +doing right; and there's times, when I hear of your being kind to the +school-children, I think it must be some curst ill-luck of my own that +brings us always ath'art-hawse."</p> + +<p>Beneath the lamplight his eyes searched hers appealingly, as a child's +might; yet Hester wondered rather at the note of manliness in his voice—a +new note to her, but an assured one. Whatever the cause, Tom Trevarthen +was a lad no longer.</p> + +<p>"Why should you suppose," she asked, "that I have power over Mr. +Rosewarne?"</p> + +<p>"Haven't you?"</p> + +<p>The simple question confounded her, and she blushed again, as one detected +in an untruth. It was as Tom said; some perverse fate impelled her at +every turn to show at her worst before him.</p> + +<p>"Good Lord!" he said slowly, watching her face. "You don't tell me you're +going to marry him!"</p> + +<p>She should have obeyed her first impulse and said 'No' hotly. The word +was on her lips when a second wave of indignation swelled within her and +swept over the first, drowning it, and, with it, her speech. What right +had he to question her, or what concern with her affairs? She threw back +her head proudly, to look him in the face and ask him this. But he had +turned from her.</p> + +<p>His disgust angered her, and once more she changed her impulse for the +worse.</p> + +<p>"It seems," said she contemptuously, "that you reserve the right of making +terms with Mr. Rosewarne."</p> + +<p>He turned at the door of the inner office and regarded her for a moment +with a dark frown.</p> + +<p>"What do you mean by that?" His voice betrayed the strain on his +self-command.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Rosewarne owns the <i>One-and-All</i>, does he not? If, after what has +happened, you accept his wages, you might well be a little less censorious +of other folk's conduct."</p> + +<p>If the shaft hit, he made no sign for the moment. "I reckon," he +answered, with queer deliberateness, "your knowledge of ships and +shipowners don't amount to much, else you wouldn't talk of Rosewarne's +doing me a favour." He paused and laughed, not aloud but grimly. +"The <i>One-and-All's</i> insured, Miss Marvin, and pretty heavily over her +value. I'd take it as a kindness if you found someone fool enough to +insure <i>me</i> for a trip in her."</p> + +<p>"I don't understand."</p> + +<p>"No, I reckon you don't. They finished loading her last night, and we +moored her out in the channel, ready for the tug this morning. +Before midnight she was leaking there like a basket, and by seven this +morning she was leaking worse than a five-barred gate. The tug had just +time to pluck us alongside here, or she'd have sunk at her moorings; and +when we'd warped her steady and the tide left her, the water poured out of +a hole I could shove my hand through—not the seams, mark you, though they +leaked bad enough—but a hole where the china-stone had fairly knocked her +open; and the timber all round it as rotten as cheese. All day, between +tides, they've been sheathing it over, and packing the worst places in her +seams; and to-night the crew, being all Troy men, are taking one more +sleep ashore than they bargained for. They want it, too, after their +spell at the pumps."</p> + +<p>"Then why are you left on board?"</p> + +<p>"Mainly because I've no home to go to; and somebody must act +night-watchman. The skipper himself has bustled ashore with the rest. +I reckon this morning's work scared him a bit, hand-in-glove though he is +with Rosewarne; but he must be recovering, because just before stepping +off he warned me against putting up the riding-light. There's no chance +of anyone fouling us where we lie, and we can save two-penn'orth of oil."</p> + +<p>"But you don't tell me Mr. Rosewarne sends his ships to sea, knowing them +to be rotten?"</p> + +<p>He hunched his shoulders. "Maybe he does; maybe he don't. It don't +matter to me, the man's going to hell or not. But you seem to think I +take his wages as a favour."</p> + +<p>"Then why do you take them at all, at such a risk?"</p> + +<p>"Because," he burst out, "you've come here and driven my mother to an +almshouse, and I must earn money to get her out of it. If I'd a-known you +was coming here with your education, I'd have picked up some of it and +been prepared for you. A mate's certificate doesn't mean much in these +days. Men like Rosewarne want a skipper who'll earn insurance-money and +save oil. Still, I could have tried. But, like a fool, I was young and +in a good berth, and let my chances slip; and then you came along and +spoilt all."</p> + +<p>"Did you seek me out to-night to tell me this?" she steadied herself to +ask.</p> + +<p>He lowered his eyes. "I want you to write a letter for me," he said, and +added, after a pause. "That's what comes of wanting education."</p> + +<p>Another and a very awkward pause followed. This discovery of his +illiteracy shocked and hurt her inexpressibly. She could not even say +why. Good sense warned her even in the instant of disappointment that a +man might not know how to read or write and yet be none the less a good +man and trustworthy. And even though the prejudice of her calling made +her treat the defect too seriously, why in Tom Trevarthen should that +shock her which in other seamen she took as a matter of course?</p> + +<p>Yet in her shame for him she could lift her eyes; and he still kept his +lowered upon the floor.</p> + +<p>"To whom do you want me to write?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"It's to a girl," he answered doggedly; and the words seemed to call up a +dark flush in his face, which a moment before had been unwontedly pale— +though this she did not perceive.</p> + +<p>"A girl?"</p> + +<p>"That's so; a girl, miss, if you don't mind—a girl as it happens I'm fond +of."</p> + +<p>"A love-letter? Is that what you mean?"</p> + +<p>"If you don't mind, Miss Marvin?"</p> + +<p>"Why on earth should I mind?" she asked, with a heat unintelligible to +herself as to him.</p> + +<p>A suspicion crossed her mind that the young woman might not be +over-respectable; but she dismissed it. If the message were such as she +could indite, she had no warrant to inquire further; and yet, "Is it quite +fair to her?" she added.</p> + +<p>The question plainly confused him. "Fair, miss?"</p> + +<p>"You told me a minute ago that you found it hard to earn money for your +mother; and now it seems you think of marrying."</p> + +<p>"No, miss," said he simply; "I can't think of it at all. And that's +partly what I want to tell her."</p> + +<p>Hester frowned. "It's queer you should come to me, whom you accuse of +interfering to your harm. If I am guilty on other counts, I am guilty too +of coming between you and this young woman."</p> + +<p>He smiled faintly. "And that's true in a way," he allowed; "but you'll +see I don't bear malice. The letter'll prove that, if so be you'll kindly +write it for me."</p> + +<p>He said it appealingly, with his hand on the doorhandle. She bent her +head in consent. Flinging the door open, he stood aside to let her pass.</p> + +<br><br> +<p>It was a moment later as he crossed over to the client's chair that Myra +caught sight of him from the schooner's deck. The child cowered back into +the shadow of the deck-house, her eyes intent again on the listener +leaning out from the quay-door. He could not even see what she had seen; +and if Tom was in talk with anyone inside her own ears caught no sound of +it. Nevertheless her uncle's attitude left no room to doubt that he was +playing the spy, and trying, at least, to listen.</p> + +<br><br> +<p>"What name?" asked Hester, dipping her pen.</p> + +<p>"What name? Eh, to be sure,"—Tom Trevarthen hesitated for a moment. +"Put down Harriet Sands." She glanced up, and he nodded. "Yes, that'll +do—Harriet Sands, of Runcorn."</p> + +<p>"She must have some nearer address than that. Runcorn is a large town, is +it not?"</p> + +<p>He pondered, or seemed to ponder. "Then we'll put down 'Sailors' Return +Inn, Quay Street, Runcorn.' That'll find her, as likely as anywhere."</p> + +<p>Hester wrote the address and glanced up inquiringly; but his eyes were +fastened on the desk where her hand rested, and on the virgin sheet of +notepaper placed ready for use.</p> + +<p>"A public-house? It wanted only that!" she told herself. Aloud she said, +"'My dearest Harriet'—Is that how you begin?"</p> + +<p>He appeared to consider this slowly. "I suppose so," he answered at +length, with a shade of disappointment in his voice.</p> + +<p>"And next, I suppose, you say, 'This comes hoping to find you well as it +leaves me at present.'"</p> + +<p>"Don't 'ee—don't 'ee, co!" he implored her almost with a cry of pain; and +then, scarcely giving her time to be ashamed of her levity, he broke out, +"They tell me you can guess a man's thoughts and write 'em down a'most +before he speaks. Why won't you guess 'em for me? Write to her that when +we parted she was unkind; but be she unkind for ever and ever, in my +thoughts she will be the best woman in the world. Tell her that whatever +she may do amiss, in my eyes she'll last on as the angel God A'mighty +meant her to be, and all because I love her and can't help it. Say that +to her, and say that there's degrees between us never to be crossed, and I +know it, and have never a hope to win level with her; but this once I will +speak and be silent all the rest o' my days. Tell her that there's bars +between us, but the only real one is her own self; that for nothing would +she be beyond my reach but for being the woman she is."</p> + +<p>Hester laid down the pen and looked up at him with eyes at once dim and +shining.</p> + +<p>"I cannot write this," she said, her lips stammering on the words. +"I am not worthy—I laughed at you."</p> + +<p>"Tell her," he went on, "that I'm a common seaman, earnin' two pound a +month, with no book-learning and no hopes to rise; tell her that I've an +old mother to keep—that for years to come there's no chance of my +marryin'; and then tell her I'm glad of it, for it keeps me free to think +only of her. Write all that down, Miss Marvin."</p> + +<p>"I cannot," she protested.</p> + +<br><br> +<p>Very gently but firmly he laid a brown strong hand over hers as it rested +on the letter. In a second he withdrew it, but in that second she felt +herself mastered, commanded. She took up the pen and wrote.</p> + +<p>"I have used your own words and none of mine," she said, when she had +finished. "Shall I read them over to you?"</p> + +<p>"No." He took the letter, folded it, and placed it in the envelope she +handed him. "Why didn't you put it into better words?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Because I could not. Trust a woman to know what a woman likes. +If I were this—this Harriet."—Her voice faltered and came to a halt.</p> + +<p>"Yes?" He waited for her to continue.</p> + +<p>"Why, then, that letter would make me a proud woman."</p> + +<p>"Though it came from a common sailor?"</p> + +<p>"She would not think first of that. She would be proud to be so loved."</p> + +<p>"Thank you," said he slowly, and, drawing a shilling from his pocket, laid +it on the desk. "Good-night and good-bye, Miss Marvin."</p> + +<p>He moved to the window and flung up the sash. Seated astride the ledge, +he looked back at her with a smile which seemed to say, "At last we are +friends!" The next moment he had reached out a hand, caught hold of the +<i>One-and-All's</i> forestay, and swung himself out into the darkness.</p> + +<p>Hester, standing alone in the little office, heard a soft sliding sound +which puzzled her, followed by the light thud of his feet as he dropped +upon deck. She leaned out for a moment before closing the window. +All was silent below, save for the lap of the tide between the schooner +and the quay-wall.</p> + +<br><br> +<p>As Tom Trevarthen opened the window and leaned out to grasp the forestay, +Myra, still cowering by the deck-house, saw her uncle swing himself +hurriedly back into the shadow of the quay-door. She too retreated a +pace; and with that, her foot striking against the low coaming of an open +hatchway, with a clutch at air she pitched backward and down into the +vessel's hold.</p> + +<p>She did not fall far, the <i>One-and-All</i> being loaded to within a foot or +two of the hatches. Her tumble sent her sprawling upon a heap of loose +china-clay. She felt it sliding under her and herself sliding with it, +softly, down into darkness. She was bruised. She had wrenched her +shoulder terribly, but she clenched her teeth and kept back the cry she +had all but uttered.</p> + +<p>The sliding ceased, and she tried to raise herself on an elbow out of the +choking smother of clay-dust. The effort sent a stab of pain through her, +exquisite, excruciating. She dropped forward upon her face, and there in +the darkness she fainted.</p> + +<br><br> +<p>Hester, having closed the window, put out the lights quietly, pausing in +the outer office for a glance at the raked-out stove. Outside, as she +locked the door behind her, she paused again at the head of the step for +an upward look at the sky, where, beyond the clouds, a small star or two +twinkled in the dark square of Pegasus. She never knew how close in that +instant she stood to death. Within six paces of her crouched a man made +desperate by the worst of terrors—terror of himself; and maddened by the +worst of all provocatives—jealousy.</p> + +<p>He had come to her on a forlorn hope, believing that she only—if any +helper in the world—could be his salvation from the devil within him. +Not in cruelty, but in fear—which can be crueller than cruelty itself—he +had packed off the helpless blind boy beyond his reach. He had promised +himself that by dismissing the temptation he could lay the devil at a +stroke and finally. On his way back from the station he had heard +whispered within him the horrible truth: that he was a lost man, without +self-control.</p> + +<p>He had sought her merely by the instinct of self-preservation. She had +cowed and mastered him once. In awful consciousness of his infirmity he +craved only to be mastered again, to be soothed, quieted. He nodded to +the men and women he passed in the streets. They saw nothing amiss with +him—nothing more than his habitual straight-lipped visage and ill-fitting +clothes.</p> + +<p>He had dogged her to the office and listened outside for one, two, three +hours. In the end, as he believed, he had caught her at tryst with his +worst enemy—with the man who had knocked him down and humiliated him. +Yet in his instant need he hated Tom Trevarthen less as a rival in love, +less from remembered humiliation, than as a robber of the sole plank which +might have saved him from drowning.</p> + +<p>So long had the pair been closeted together that a saner jealousy might +have suggested more evil suspicions. His jealousy passed these by as of +no account. He could think only of his need and its foiled chance: his +need was more urgent than any love. He had come for help, and found her +colloguing with his enemy.</p> + +<p>In his abject rage he could easily have done her violence and as easily +have run forward and cried her pity. Between the two impulses he crouched +irresolute and let her pass.</p> + +<p>Hester came down the steps slowly, passed within a yard of him, and as +slowly went up the dark courtyard. For the last time she paused, with her +hand on Mr. Benny's door-latch; and this was what she said there to +herself, silently—</p> + +<p>"But why Harriet?—of all the hateful names!"</p> + + +<br><br> +<p><a name = "24"></a> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXIV.</h3> + +<h4>THE RESCUE.</h4> + +<p>"Style," said Mr. Joshua Benny, "has been defined as a gift of saying +anything, of striking any note in the scale of human feelings, without +impropriety. We cannot all have distinction, Mr. Parker—what I may call +the <i>je ne sais quoi</i>"—</p> + +<p>Mr. Joshua put this with a fine modesty, the distinction of his own style +being proverbial—in Spendilove's Press Supply Bureau at any rate. He +might have added with a wave of the hand, "You see to what it has advanced +me!" for whereas the rest of Spendilove's literary men toiled in two +gangs, one on either side of a long high-pitched desk, and wrote slashing +leaders for the provincial press, Mr. Joshua exercised his lightness of +touch upon 'picturesque middles' in a sort of loose-box partitioned off +from the main office by screens of opaque glass. This den—he spoke of it +as his 'scriptorium'—had a window looking out upon an elevated railway, +along which the trains of the London, Chatham, and Dover line banged and +rattled all day long. For Spendilove's (as it was called by its +familiars) inhabited the second floor of a building close to the foot of +Ludgate Hill. The noise no longer disturbed Mr. Joshua, except when an +engine halted just outside to blow off steam.</p> + +<p>Mr. Joshua leaned back in his writing-chair, tapped a galley proof with +admonitory forefinger, and gazed over his spectacles upon Mr. Parker—a +weedy youth with a complexion suggestive of uncooked pastry.</p> + +<p>"We cannot all have distinction, Mr. Parker, nor can it be acquired by +effort. Vigour we may cultivate, and clearness we must; it is essential. +On a level with these I should place propriety. Propriety teaches us to +regulate our speech by the occasion; to be incisive at times and at times +urbane; to adapt the 'how' to the 'when,' as I might put it. I do not +think—I really do not think—that Christmas Eve is a happily chosen +moment for calling Mr. Disraeli 'a Jew adventurer.'"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Makins, sir, who wrote yesterday's Liberal leader for the syndicate, +wound up by saying the time had gone by for mincing our opinion of the +front Opposition Bench. He warned me last night, when I took over his +job, to pitch it strong. He had it on good authority that the +constituencies have been a good deal shaken by Mr. Gladstone's Army +Purchase <i>coup</i>, and some straight talk is needed to pull them together, +in the eastern counties especially."</p> + +<p>"You are young to the work, Mr. Parker. You may depend upon it—you may +take it from me—that Spendilove's will not fail in straight talking, on +either side of the question. But we must observe what our Gallic +neighbours term <i>les convenances</i>. By the way, has Makins gone off for +the holidays?"</p> + +<p>"He was to have gone off last night, sir; but he turned up this morning to +write Sam Collins's 'Tory Squire' column for the <i>Northern Guardian</i>, and +a syndicate-middle on 'Christmas Cheer in the Good Old Times.' +Collins sent him a wire late last night; his wife is down with pneumonia."</p> + +<p>"Tut, tut—send him to me. A good-hearted fellow, Makins! Tell him I've +a dozen old articles that will fix him up with 'Christmas Cheer' in less +than twenty minutes. I keep them indexed. And if he wants it illustrated +I can look him out a dozen blocks to take his choice from—'Bringing in +the Boar's Head,' and that sort of thing."</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon, sir, but before I send him there's a party of four in +the lower office waiting to see you—one of them a child—and seafaring +folk by their talk. They walked in while I was sitting alone there, +finishing off my article, and not a word would they tell of their business +but that they must speak to you in private. It's my belief they've come +straight off a wreck, and with a paragraph at least."</p> + +<p>"Seafaring folk, do you say?" It was a cherished hope of Mr. Joshua +Benny's that one of these days Spendilove's would attract private +information to its door, and not confine itself to decorating so much of +the world's news as had already become common property.</p> + +<p>"They asked for you, sir, as 'Mr. Joshua Benny, the great writer.'"</p> + +<p>"Dear me, I hope you have not kept them waiting long? Show them up, +please; and—here, wait a moment—on your way you can take Makins an +armful of my commonplace books—eighteen sixty-three to seven; that will +do. Tell him to look through the indexes himself; he'll find what he +wants under 'Yule.'"</p> + +<p>If Mr. Joshua's visitors had come, as Mr. Parker surmised, straight off a +wreck, the first to file into his office had assuredly salved from +calamity a wonderful headgear. This was Mrs. Purchase, in a bonnet +crowned with a bunch of glass grapes; and by the hand she led Myra, who +carried one arm in a sling. The child's features were pinched and pale, +and her eyes unnaturally bright. Behind followed Mr. Purchase and Tom +Trevarthen, holding their caps, and looking around uneasily for a mat to +wipe their shoes on.</p> + +<p>No such shyness troubled Mrs. Purchase. "Good-morning!" she began +briskly, holding out a hand.</p> + +<p>Mr. Joshua took it helplessly, his eyes for the moment riveted on her +bonnet. It bore no traces of exposure to sea-water, and he transferred +his scrutiny to the child.</p> + +<p>"You don't remember me," pursued Mrs. Purchase cheerfully. "But I'd have +picked you out from a thousand, though I han't seen you since you was <i>so</i> +high." She spread out a palm some three feet or less from the floor. +"I'm Hannah Purchase, that used to be Hannah Rosewarne, daughter of John +Rosewarne of Hall. You know now who I be, I reckon; and this here's my +niece, and that there's my husband. The young man in the doorway ain't no +relation; but he comes from Hall too. He's Sal Trevarthen's son. +You remember Sal Trevarthen?"</p> + +<p>"Ah, yes—yes, to be sure. Delighted to see you, madam—delighted," +stammered Mr. Joshua, who, however, as yet showed signs only of +bewilderment. "And you wish to see me?"—</p> + +<p>"Wish to see you? Man alive, we've been hunting all Fleet Street for you! +Talk about rabbit warrens! Well, when 'tis over 'tis over, as Joan said +by her wedding, and here we be at last."</p> + +<p>She paused and looked around.</p> + +<p>"Place wants dusting," she observed. "Never married, did 'ee? I reckoned +I'd never heard of your marrying. Your brother now has eleven of 'em— +children, I mean; and yet you feature him wonderful, though fuller in the +face. But the Lord's ways be past finding out."</p> + +<p>"Amen," said her husband, paying his customary tribute to a scriptural +quotation, and added, "They don't keep over many chairs in this office." +He addressed this observation to Tom Trevarthen with an impartial air as +one announcing a scientific discovery.</p> + +<p>"Thank you," said Mrs. Purchase, seating herself in a chair which Mr. +Joshua made haste to provide. "You will oblige me by paying no attention +to 'Siah. Well, as I was saying, it's a mercy the Lord has made you the +man you be; for we're in want of your help, all four of us."</p> + +<p>"If I can be of service,"—Mr. Joshua murmured.</p> + +<p>"I remember," said Mrs. Purchase, arranging her bonnet with an air of one +coming to business, "when I was a little girl, reading in a history book +about a man called Bucket, who fell in love with a black woman in foreign +parts; or she may have been brown or whitey-brown for all I can remember +at this distance of time. But, anyway, he was parted from her, and came +home to London here, and all she knew about him was his name 'Bucket.' +Well, she took ship and kept on saying 'Bucket' till somewhere in London +she found him. And if that happened once, it ought to be able to happen +again, especially in these days of newspapers, and when we've got the +address."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Purchase produced a crumpled slip of paper, and handed it to Mr. +Joshua, who adjusted his spectacles.</p> + +<p>"An institution for the blind, and near Bexley, apparently." +He glanced up in mild interrogation.</p> + +<p>"What sort of place is it? Nice goings-on there, I'll promise you; and if +'tis better than penal servitude I shall be surprised, seeing that Sam +Rosewarne is hand-in-glove with it. Never you mind, my dear," she added, +turning to Myra, who shivered, holding her hand. "We'll get him out of +it, or there's no law in England."</p> + +<p>Mr. Joshua, still hopelessly fogged, wheeled his chair round to the +bookcase behind him, and took down a Directory, with a smaller reference +work upon Hospitals and Charitable Institutions.</p> + +<p>"H'm," said he, coming to a halt as he turned the pages; "here it +is—'Huntingdon Orphanage for the Blind'—'mainly supported by voluntary +contributions'—address, 52 Conyers Road, Bexley, S.E. It seems to have +an influential list of patrons, mainly Dissenters, as I should guess."</p> + +<p>"It may keep 'em," said Mrs. Purchase, "so long as you get that poor child +out of it."</p> + +<p>"My dear lady, if you would be more explicit!" cried Mr. Joshua. +"To what poor child do you allude? And what is the help you ask of me?"</p> + +<p>"If the worst comes to the worst, you can denounce 'em." Mrs. Purchase +untied her bonnet strings, and then slowly crossed her legs—an unfeminine +habit of hers. "Tis like a story out of a book," she pursued. "This very +morning as we was moored a little above Deptford in the <i>Virtuous Lady</i>— +that's my husband's ship—and me making the coffee for breakfast as usual, +comes off a boy with a telegram, saying, 'Meet me and Miss Myra by the +foot of the Monument. Most important.—Tom Trevarthen.' You might have +knocked me down with a feather, and even then I couldn't make head nor +tail of it."</p> + +<p>To this extent her experience seemed to be repeating itself in Mr. Joshua.</p> + +<p>"For to begin with," she went on, "how did I know that Tom Trevarthen was +in London? let alone that last time we met we parted in anger. But he'd +picked us out among the shipping as he was towed up last night in the +<i>One-and-All</i> to anchor in the Pool. And I defy anyone to guess that he'd +got Myra here on board, who's my own niece by a second marriage, and +shipped herself as a stowaway, but was hurt by a fall down the hold, and +might have lain there and starved to death, poor child—and all for love +of her brother that his uncle had shipped off to a blind orphanage. +But there's a providence, Mr. Benny, that watches over children—and you +may lay to that." Mrs. Purchase took breath. "Well, naturally, as you +may guess, my first thought was to set it down for a hoax, though not in +the best of taste. But with Myra's name staring me in the face in the +telegram, and blood being thicker than water, on second thoughts I +told 'Siah to put on his best clothes and come to the Monument with me, +not saying more for fear of upsetting him. 'Why the Monument?' says +'Siah. 'Why not?' says I; 'it was put up against the Roman Catholics.' +So that determined him; and I wanted company, for in London you can't be +too careful. Sure enough, when we got to it, there was Tom waiting, with +this poor child holding his hand; and then the whole story came out. +'But what's to be done?' I said, for my very flesh rebelled against such +cruelty to the child, let alone that he was flogged black and blue at +home. And then Tom Trevarthen had a thought even cleverer than his +telegram. 'Peter Benny,' says he, 'has a brother here in London connected +with the press; the press can do anything, and by Peter's account his +brother can do anything with the press. If we can only find him, our +job's as good as done.' So we hailed a cab, and told the man to drive us +to the <i>Shipping Gazette</i>. But I reckon we must have started someways at +the wrong end, for the <i>Shipping Gazette</i> passed us on to a place called +the <i>Times</i>, where they kept us waiting forty minutes, and then said they +didn't know you, but advised us to try the <i>Cheshire Cheese</i>, where I +asked for the editor, and this caused another delay. But a gentleman +there drinkin' whisky-and-water said he'd heard of you in connection with +the <i>Christian World</i>, and the <i>Christian World</i> gave us over to a +policeman, who brought us here; and now the question is, what would you +advise?"</p> + +<p>"I should advise," said Mr. Joshua, pulling out his watch, "your coming +off to lunch with me."</p> + +<p>"You're a practical man, I see," said Mrs. Purchase, "and I say again 'tis +a pity you never married. We'll leave the whole affair in your hands."</p> + +<br><br> +<p>In his published writings Mr. Joshua had often descanted on the power of +the Fourth Estate; and in his addresses to young aspirants he ever laid +stress on the crucial faculty of sifting out the essentials, whether in +narrative or argument, from whatever was of secondary importance, +circumstantial, or irrelevant. The confidence and accuracy with which +Mrs. Purchase challenged him to put his faith and his method into instant +practice, staggered him not a little. He felt himself hit, so to speak, +with both barrels.</p> + +<p>It will be allowed that he rose to the test admirably. Under an arch of +the railway bridge at the foot of Ludgate Hill there is a restaurant where +you may eat and drink and hear all the while the trains rumbling over your +head. To this he led the party; and while Mrs. Purchase talked, he sifted +out with professional skill the main points of her story, and discovered +what she required of him. To be sure, the Power of the Press remained to +be vindicated, and as yet he was far from seeing his way clear. The woman +required him to storm the doors of an orphanage and rescue without parley +the body of a child consigned to it by a legal guardian (which was +absurd); or if not instantly successful, to cow the officials with threats +of exposure (which again was absurd; since, for aught he knew, the +institution thoroughly deserved the subscriptions of the public).</p> + +<p>Yet while his own heart sank, the confidence of his guests, and their +belief in him, sensibly increased. He had chosen this particular +restaurant not deliberately, but with the instinct of a born journalist; +for it is the first secret of journalism to appear to be moving at high +speed even when standing absolutely still, and here in the purlieus of the +clanging station, amid the thunder of trains and the rush of hundreds of +feet to bookstalls and ticket-offices; here where the clash of knives and +forks and plates mingled with the rumble of cabs and the calls of porters +and newspaper boys, the impression of activity was irresistible. Here, as +Mrs. Purchase had declared, was a practical man. Their business promised +well with all these wheels in motion.</p> + +<p>"And now," said Mr. Joshua, as he paid the bill, "we will take the train +for Bexley, and see."</p> + +<p>In his own heart he hoped that a visit to the Orphanage would satisfy +them. He would seek the governor or matron in charge; they would be +allowed an interview with the child, and finding him in good hands, +contented and well cared for, would shed some natural tears perhaps, but +return cheerful and reassured. This was as much as Mr. Joshua dared to +hope. While piecing together Mrs. Purchase's narrative he had been +sincerely touched—good man—by some of its details; particularly when Tom +Trevarthen struck in and related how on the second night out of port he +had been kept awake by a faint persistent knocking on the bulkhead +separating the fo'c'sle from the schooner's hold; how he had drawn his +shipmates' attention to it; how he had persuaded the skipper to uncover +one of the hatches; and how he had descended with a lantern and found poor +Myra half dead with sickness and hunger. Mr. Joshua did not understand +children; but he had a good heart nevertheless. He eyed Myra from time to +time with a sympathetic curiosity, shy and almost timid, as the train +swung out over the points, and the child, nestling down in a corner by the +window, gazed out across the murky suburbs with eyes which, devouring the +distance, regarded him not at all.</p> + +<p>The child did not doubt. She followed with the others as he shepherded +them through the station to the train which came, as if to his call, from +among half a dozen others, all ready at hand. He was a magician, +benevolent as any in her fairy-tales, and when all was over she would +thank him, even with tears. But just now she could think only of Clem and +her journey's end. Clem!—Clem!—the train clanked out his name over and +over. Would these lines of dingy houses, factories, smoky gardens, +rubbish-heaps, broken palings, never come to an end?</p> + +<p>They trailed past the window in meaningless procession; empty phenomena, +and as dull as they were empty. But the glorious golden certainty lay +beyond. "Just look to the poor mite!" whispered Mrs. Purchase, nudging +her husband. Myra's ears caught the words distinctly, but Myra did not +hear.</p> + +<p>Bexley at last! with two or three cabs outside the station. Later on she +remembered them, and the colour of the horse in the one which Mr. Joshua +chose, and the driver's face, and Mr. Joshua leaning out of the window and +shouting directions. She remembered also the mist on the glass window of +the four-wheeler, and the foggy houses, detached and semi-detached, +looming behind their roadway walls and naked fences of privet; the +clapping sound of the horse, trotting with one loose shoe; Aunt Hannah's +clutch at her arm as they drew up in the early dusk before a gate with a +clump of evergreens on either side; and a glimpse of a tall red-brick +building as Mr. Joshua opened the door and alighted.</p> + +<p>He was gone, and they sat in the cab, and waited for him a tedious while. +She did not understand. Why should they wait now, with Clem so near at +hand? But she was patient, not doubting at all of the result.</p> + +<p>He came running back at length, and radiant. As though the issue had ever +been in doubt! The cab moved through the gateway and halted before a low +flight of steps, and everyone clambered out. The dusk had deepened, and +she blinked as she stepped into a lighted hall. A tall man met them +there; whispered, or seemed to whisper, a moment with Mr. Joshua; and +beckoned them to follow. They followed him, turning to the right down a +long corridor not so brightly lit as the hall had been. At the end he +halted for a moment and gently opened a door.</p> + +<p>They passed through it into what, for a moment, seemed to be total +darkness. They stood, in fact, at the head of a tall platform of many +steps, semicircular in shape, looking down upon a long hall, unlit as yet +(for the blind need no lamps); and below, on the floor of the hall, ranged +at their desks in the fading light, sat row upon row of children. +The murmur of many voices rose from that shadowy throng, as Myra, shaking +off Aunt Hannah's grasp, stepped forward to the edge of the platform with +both arms extended, her hurt forgotten.</p> + +<p>"MYRA!"</p> + +<p>The opening of the door could scarcely have been audible amid the murmur +below. She herself had stretched out her arms, uttering no sound, not yet +discerning him among the dim murmuring shadows. What telegraphy of love +reached, and on the instant, that one child in the throng and fetched him +to his feet, crying out her name? And he was blind. From the way he ran +to her, heeding no obstacles, stumbling against desks, breaking his shins +cruelly against the steps of the platform as he stretched up both hands to +her, all might see that he was blind. Yet he came, as she had known he +would come.</p> + +<p>"CLEM!"</p> + +<p>They were in each other's arms, sobbing, laughing, crooning soft words +together, but only these articulate—</p> + +<p>"You knew me?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, you have come—I knew you would come!"</p> + +<br><br> +<p>"Now I ask you," said Aunt Hannah to the Matron, who, unobserved by the +visitors, had followed them down the corridor, "I don't know you from +Adam, ma'am, but I ask you, as a Christian woman, if you'd part them two +lambs? And, if so, how?"</p> + +<p>The Matron's answer went near to abashing her; for the Matron turned out +to be not only a Christian woman, as challenged, but an extremely +tender-hearted one.</p> + +<p>"I like the child," she answered. "I like him so much that I'd be +thankful if you could get him removed; for, to tell the truth, he's ailing +here. We try to feed him well, and we try to make him happy; but he's +losing flesh, and he's not happy. Indeed we are not tyrants, ma'am, and +if it pleases you his sister shall stay with him overnight, and I promise +to take care of her; but he came to us from his legal guardian, and +without leave we can't give him up."</p> + +<p>It was at this point that inspiration came to Mr. Joshua.</p> + +<p>"Why not a telegram?" he suggested. "As his aunt, ma'am, you might +suggest a sea voyage for the child, and leave it to me to word it +strongly."</p> + +<p>"If I wasn't a married woman," said Mrs. Purchase, "I could openly bless +the hour I made your acquaintance."</p> + +<p>Between the despatch of Mr. Joshua's telegram and the receipt of his +answer there was weary waiting for all but the two children. +They, content in the moment's bliss, secure of the future, being reunited, +neither asked nor doubted.</p> + +<p>Yet they missed something—the glad, astounded surprise of their elders as +Mr. Joshua, having taken the yellow envelope from Mrs. Purchase, whose +courage failed her, broke it open, and read aloud, "<i>Leave child in your +hands. Only do not bring him home</i>."</p> + +<p>It was a happy party that travelled back that night to Blackfriars; and +Mr. Joshua, after shaking hands with everybody many times over, and +promising to eat his Christmas dinner on board the <i>Virtuous Lady</i>, walked +homeward to his solitary lodgings elate, treading the frosty pavement with +an unaccustomed springiness of step. He had vindicated the Power of the +Press.</p> + + +<br><br> +<p><a name = "25"></a> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXV.</h3> + +<h4>BUT TOM CAN WRITE.</h4> + +<p>"A letter for you, Mrs. Trevarthen!"</p> + +<p>Spring had come. The flight and finding of Myra had long since ceased to +be a nine days' wonder, and she and Clem and Tom Trevarthen—received back +into favour, and in some danger of being petted by Mrs. Purchase, who had +never been known to pet a seaman—were shipmates now on board the +<i>Virtuous Lady</i>, and had passed for many weeks now beyond ken of the +little port. A new schoolmistress reigned in Hester's stead, since +Hester, with the New Year, had taken over the care of the Widows' Houses. +In his counting-house at Hall Samuel Rosewarne sat day after day +transacting his business without a clerk, speaking seldom, shunned by +all—even by his own son; a man afraid of himself. Susannah declared that +the house was like a tomb, and vowed regularly on Monday mornings to give +'warning' at the next week-end. The villagers, accustomed to the +Rosewarne tyranny for generations, had found it hard to believe in their +release. Lady Killiow was little more than a name to them, Rosewarne a +very present steward and master of their lives; and at first, when Peter +Benny engaged workmen to pull down Nicky Vro's cottage and erect a modest +office on its site, they admired his temerity, but awoke each morning to +fresh wonder that no thunderbolt from Hall had descended during the night +and razed his work to the ground. The new ferryman had vanished too, paid +off and discharged for flagrant drunkenness, and his place was taken by +old Billy Daddo the Methodist—a change so comfortable and (when you come +to think of it) a choice so happy, that the villagers, after the shock of +surprise, could hardly believe they had not suggested it. If they did not +quite forget Nicky and his sorrows—if in place of Nicky's pagan chatter +they listened to Billy's earnest, gentle discourse, and might hardly cross +to meal or market without being reminded of God—why, after all, the word +of God was good hearing, and everyone ought to take an interest in it. +Stop your ears for a moment, and you could almost believe 'twas Nicky come +back to life again. Nobody could deny the man was cheerful and civil. +He rowed a stroke, too, amazingly like Nicky's.</p> + +<p>As for Rosewarne, in the revulsion of their fears they began to despise +him. They Had done better to pity him.</p> + +<p>Across the water, in her lodging in the Widows' Houses, Hester found work +to be done which, to her surprise, kept her busier than she had ever been +in her life before—so busy that the quiet quadrangle seemed to hold no +room for news of the world without. She found that, if she were to +satisfy her conscience in the service of these old women, she could seldom +save more than an hour's leisure from the short spring days; and in that +hour maybe Sir George would call with his plans, or she would put on her +bonnet and walk down the hill for a call on the Bennys and a chat with +Nuncey. But oftener it was Nuncey who came for a gossip; Nuncey having +sold her cart and retired from business.</p> + +<p>Spring had come. Within the almshouse quadrangle, around the leaden pump, +the daffodils were in flower and the tulip buds swelling. A blast from +the first of those golden trumpets could hardly have startled her more +than did her first sight of it flaunting in the sun. It had stolen upon +her like a thief.</p> + +<br><br> +<p>"A letter for you, Mrs. Trevarthen!"</p> + +<p>The postman, as he crossed the quadrangle to the Matron's door, glanced up +and spied Mrs. Trevarthen bending over a wash-tub in the widows' gallery. +He pulled a letter from his pocket and held it aloft gaily.</p> + +<p>"I'll run up the steps with it if you can't reach."</p> + +<p>"No need to trouble you, my dear, if you'll wait a moment."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Trevarthen dried her hands in her coarse apron, leaned over the +balustrade, and just contrived to reach the letter with her finger-tips. +They were bleached with soap and warm water, and they trembled a little.</p> + +<p>"'Tis from your son Tom, I reckon," said the postman, while she examined +the envelope. "Foreign paper and the Quebec postmark."</p> + +<p>"From Tom? O' course 'tis from Tom! Get along with 'ee do! What other +man would be writing to me at my time o' life?"</p> + +<p>The postman walked on, laughing. Mrs. Trevarthen stood for some while +irresolute, holding the envelope between finger and thumb, and glancing +from it to a closed door at the back of the gallery. A slant low sun-ray +almost reached to the threshold, and was cut short there by the shadow of +the gallery eaves.</p> + +<p>"Best not disturb her, I s'pose," said the old woman, with a sigh. +She laid the letter down, but very reluctantly, beside the wash-tub, and +plunged both hands among the suds again. "Quebec!" The word recalled a +silly old song of the sailors; she had heard her boy hum it again and +again—</p> + + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p class = "noindent">"Was you ever to Quebec,<br> +<span class = "ind3">Bonnie lassie, bonnie lassie?</span><br> + Was you ever to Quebec,<br> + Rousing timber over the deck."—<br></p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + +<p>A door opened at the end of the gallery, and Hester came through.</p> + +<p>"Good-morning, Mrs. Trevarthen!"</p> + +<p>"'Mornin', my dear."</p> + +<p>These two were friends now on the common ground of nursing Aunt Butson, +who had been bedridden almost from the day of her admission to the +almshouse, her gaunt frame twisted with dire rheumatics.</p> + +<p>Hester, arriving to take up her duties and finding Mrs. Trevarthen outworn +with nursing, had packed her off to rest and taken her place by the +invalid's bedside. In this service she had been faithful ever since; and +it was no light one, for affliction did not chasten Mrs. Butson's caustic +tongue.</p> + +<p>"Is she still sleeping?" Hester glanced at the door.</p> + +<p>"Ay, ever since you left. Her pains have wore her out, belike. +A terrible night! Why didn' you call me sooner?"</p> + +<p>"You have a letter, I see."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Trevarthen nodded, obviously embarrassed. "Keeping it for <i>her</i>, I +was," she explained. "She do dearly like to look my letters over. +She gets none of her own, you see."</p> + +<p>But Hester was not deceived, having observed (without appearing to detect +it) Mrs. Trevarthen's difficulty with the written instructions on the +medicine bottles.</p> + +<p>"But she will not wake for some time, we'll hope; and you haven't even +broken the seal! If you would like me to read it to you—it would save +your eyes; and I am very discreet—really I am."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Trevarthen hesitated. "My eyes be bad, sure enough," she said, +weakening. "But you mustn't blame me if you come across a word or two you +don't like."</p> + +<p>"I shall remember no more of it than you choose," said Hester, slightly +puzzled.</p> + +<p>"My Tom han't ever said a word agen' you, and the odds are he'll say +nothing now. Still, there's the chance, and you can't rightly blame him."</p> + +<p>"Tom?" Hester's eyes opened wide.</p> + +<p>"I know my own boy's writing, I should hope!" said Mrs. Trevarthen, with +pardonable pride. "And good writing it is. Sally Butson says she never +taught a boy whose hand did her more credit. But what's the matter? +You'm as pale as a sheet almost!"</p> + +<p>"I—I didn't know,"—stammered Hester, and checked herself.</p> + +<p>"You've been over-tiring yourself, and to-night you'll just go off to bed +early and leave the nursing to me. What didn' you know? That Tom was a +scholar? A handsome scholar he'd have been, but for going to sea early +when his father died. I wonder sometimes if he worries over it and the +chances he missed. But Quebec's the postmark; and that means he's right +and safe, thank the Lord! I don't fret so long as he's aboard a +well-found ship. 'Twas his signing aboard the <i>One-and-All</i>—' +Rosewarne's coffin,' they call her—that nigh broke me. He didn' let me +know till two nights afore he sailed. 'Beggars can't be choosers,' he +said; and afterwards I found out from Peter Benny that he'd covered his +poor body with tattoo marks—his body that I've a-washed hundreds o' +times, and loved to feel his legs kickin' agen' me. Beautiful skin he had +as a child; soft as satin the feel of it, and not a blemish anywhere. +'Tis hard to think of it criss-crossed with them nasty marks. But there! +thank the Lord God he's safe, this passage! Read me what he says, there's +a kind soul; but you'll have to bear a child afore you know what I've +a-been going through wi' that letter starin' me in the face."</p> + +<p>Hester, resting a shoulder against one of the oaken pillars of the +gallery, where the sunshine touched her face with colour, broke the seal.</p> + +<p>"Here is an enclosure—a post-office order for fifty shillings."</p> + +<p>"God bless him! 'tis Welcome; though I could have made shift at a pinch. +Peter Benny manages these things for me," said Mrs. Trevarthen, folding it +lengthwise and inserting it between the buttons of her bodice. What she +meant was that Mr. Benny as a rule attested her mark and brought her the +money from the post-office. But Hester, busy with her own thoughts, +scarcely heard. Why had Tom Trevarthen pretended to her that he could not +write? Why had he trapped her into writing a letter for him—and to this +Harriet, whoever she might be? She unfolded the letter and read, in bold, +clear penmanship—</p> + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p class = "noindent"><span class = "ind15">Quebec, 14th February 1872.</span><br> + + "My dear Mother,—This is to enclose what I can, and to tell you we + arrived yesterday after a fair passage, and dropped hook in the Basin + below Quebec; all on board well and hearty, including Miss Myra and + Master Clem. But between ourselves the old man won't last many more + trips. His head is weakening, and Mrs. Purchase, though she won't + own to it, is fairly worn with watching him. We hadn't scarcely + cleared the Channel before we ran into dirty weather, with the wind + to N.W. and rising. We looked, of course, for the old man to + shorten sail and send her along easy, he being noted for caution. + But not a bit of it. The second day out he comes forward to me, + that stood cocking an eye aloft and waiting for him to speak, and + says he, 'This is not at all what I expected, but the Lord will + provide;' and with that he pulled out a Bible from his pocket and + tapped it, looking at me very knowing, and so walked aft and shut + himself up in his cabin. Not another glimpse did we get of him for + thirty-six hours, and no message on earth could fetch him up or + persuade him to let us take a stitch off her. As for old Hewitt, + that has been mate of her these fifteen years, and forgotten all he + ever knew, except to do what he's told, not a rag would he shift on + his own responsibility. There she was, with a new foretop-sail never + stretched before, and almost all her canvas less than two years old, + playing the mischief with it all, let alone putting the ship in + danger. At last, when she was fairly smothering herself and her + topmasts bending like whips, up he pops, Bible in hand, and says he, + with a look aloft and around, like a man more hurt than angry, + 'Heavenly Father, this won't do! This here's a pretty state of + things, Heavenly Father!' When the boys had eased her down a bit—at + the risk of their lives it was—and the old man had disappeared below + again, Mrs. Purchase came crawling aft to me in the wheelhouse, wet + as a drowned rat; and there we had a talk—very confidential, though + 'twas mostly carried on by shouting. The upshot was, she couldn't + trust the old man's head. In his best days he'd have threaded the + <i>Virtuous Lady</i> through a needle, and was capable yet; but with this + craze upon him he was just as capable of casting the ship away for + the fun of it. As for Hewitt, we found out his quality in the fogs + of the Banks, when the skipper struck work again and let the + dead-reckoning go to glory, telling us to consider the lilies. + Hewitt took it over, and in two days had worked us south of our + course by eighty odd miles. By the Lord's mercy, on the third day we + could take our bearings, and so hauled up and fetch the Gulf; and + here we are right and tight, and Mrs. Purchase gone ashore to ship a + navigating officer for the passage home. But mates' certificates + don't run cheap in these parts, as they do on Tower Hill, and the + pilots tell me she'll be lucky if she gets what she wants for love or + money.<br><br> + + "Dear mother, remember me to all the folks, and give my love to Granny + Butson. Master Clem is putting on flesh wonderful, and I reckon the + pair of them are in no hurry to get home to school.<br><br> + + "Talking of that, I would like to hear how the school gets along, and + Miss Marvin—"</p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + +<p>"Eh?" Mrs. Trevarthen interrupted. "Why, come to think of it, he's never +heard of your coming to look after us, but reckons you'm still at the +school-mistressing. And you standing there and reading out his very +words! I call that a proper joke."</p> + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p class = "noindent">"—And that limb of ugliness, Rosewarne. But by the time this + reaches you we shall be loaded and ready for sailing; so no news can + I hear till I get home, and perhaps it is lucky. Good-bye now. + If the world went right, it is not you would be living in the Widows' + Houses, nor I that would be finding it hard to forgive folks; but as + Nicky Vro used to say, 'Must thank the Lord, I reckon, that we be so + well as we be.' No more at present from your loving son,"<br> +<span class = "ind15">"Tom."</span><br></p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + +<p>"I don't understand the tail-end o' that," said Mrs. Trevarthen. "Would +you mind reading it over again, my dear?—Well, well, you needn't to flush +up so, that he finds it hard to forgive folks. Meanin' you, d'ee think? +He don't speak unkindly of any but Rosewarne; and I don't mind that I've +heard news of that varmint for a month past. Have you?"</p> + +<p>Hester did not answer—scarcely even heard. The hand in which she held +the letter fell limp at her side as she stood gazing across the quadrangle +facing the sun, but with a soft, new-born light in her eyes, that did not +owe its kindling there. Why had he played this trick on her? She could +not explain, and yet she understood. For her he had meant that letter— +yes, she was sure of it! To her, as though for another, he had spoken +those words—she remembered every one of them. He had not dared to speak +directly. And he had made her write them down. Foolish boy that he was, +he had been cunning. Did she forgive him? She could not help forgiving; +but it was foolish—foolish!</p> + +<p>She put on her bonnet that evening and walked down to see Nuncey and have +a talk with her; not to confide her secret, but simply because her elated +spirit craved for a talk.</p> + +<p>Greatly to her disappointment, Nuncey was out; nor could Mrs. Benny tell +where the girl had gone, unless (hazarding a guess) she had crossed the +ferry to her father's fine new office, to discuss fittings and furniture. +Nuncey had dropped into the habit, since the days began to lengthen, of +crossing the ferry after tea-time.</p> + +<p>Hester decided to walk as far as the Passage Slip, on the chance of +meeting her. Somewhat to her surprise, as she passed Broad Quay she +almost ran into Master Calvin Rosewarne, idling there with his hands in +his pockets, and apparently at a loose end.</p> + +<p>"Calvin! Why, whatever are you doing here, on this side of the water?"</p> + +<p>The boy—he had not the manners to take off his cap—eyed her for a moment +with an air half suspicious and half defiant. "That's telling," he +answered darkly, and added, after a pause, "Were you looking for anyone?"</p> + +<p>"I was hoping to meet Nuncey Benny. She has gone across to her father's +new office—or so Mrs. Benny thinks."</p> + +<p>The boy grinned. "She won't be coming this way just yet, and she's not at +the new office. But I'll tell you where to find her, if you'll let me +come along with you." + +On their way to the ferry he looked up once or twice askance at her, as if +half-minded to speak; but it was not until old Daddo had landed them on +the farther shore that he seemed to find his tongue.</p> + +<p>"Look here," he said abruptly, halting in the roadway, and regarding her +from under lowering brows; "the last time you took me in lessons you told +me to think less of myself and more of other people. Didn't you, now?"</p> + +<p>"Well?" said Hester, preoccupied, dimly remembering that talk.</p> + +<p>"Well, you seemed to forget your own teaching pretty easily when you +walked out of Hall and left me there on the stream. Nice company you left +me to, didn't you?"</p> + +<p>"Your father,"—began Hester lamely.</p> + +<p>"We won't talk of Dad. He's altered—I don't know how. I can't get on +with him, though he's the only person hereabouts that don't hate me; +I'll give him <i>that</i> credit. But I ask you, wasn't it pretty rough on a +chap to haul him over the coals for selfishness, and then march out and +leave him without another thought? And that's what you did."</p> + +<p>"I am sorry." Hester's conscience accused her, and she was contrite. +The child must have found life desperately dull.</p> + +<p>"I forgive you," said Master Calvin, magnanimously, and resumed his walk. +"I forgive you on condition you'll do a small job for me. When Myra turns +up again—and sooner or later she'll turn up—I want you to give her a +message."</p> + +<p>"Very well; but why not give it yourself?"</p> + +<p>"She don't speak to me, you know," he answered, stooping to pick up a +stone and bowl it down the hill. It scattered a trio of ducks, gathered a +few yards below and cluttering with their bills in the village stream, and +he laughed as they waddled off in panic. "That's how I'm left to amuse +myself," he said after a moment apologetically, but again half defiantly. +"You've to tell Myra," he went on, picking up another stone, eyeing for an +aim, and dropping it, "that I like her pluck, but she needn't have been in +such a hurry to teach the head of the family. Will you remember that?"</p> + +<p>"I will, although I don't know what you mean by it."</p> + +<p>"Never you mind, but take her that message; Myra will understand."</p> + +<p>He stepped ahead a few paces, as if unwilling to be questioned further. +They passed the gate of Hall. Beyond it, at the foot of the Jacob's +Ladder leading up to Parc-an-Hal, he whispered to her to halt, climbed +with great caution, and disappeared behind the hedge of the great meadow; +but by and by he came stealing back and beckoned to her.</p> + +<p>"It's all right," he whispered; "only step softly."</p> + +<p>Keeping close alongside the lower hedge, he led the way towards the great +rick at the far corner of the field.</p> + +<p>As they drew close to it he caught her arm and pulled her aside, pointing +to her shadow, which the level sun had all but thrown beyond the rick.</p> + +<p>"But what is the meaning of it?"</p> + +<p>The question was on her lips when her ear caught the note of a voice— +Nuncey's voice—and these words, low, and yet distinct—</p> + +<p>"At the call 'Attention!' the whole body and head must be held erect, the +chin slightly dropped, chest well open, shoulders square to the front, +eyes looking straight forward. The arms must hang easily, with fingers +and thumbs straight, close to one another and touching the thighs; the +feet turned out at right angles or nearly. Now, please—'Tention!"—(a +pause)—"You break my heart, you do! Eyes, I said, looking <i>straight +forward</i>; and the weight of the body ought to rest on the front part of +the foot—not tilted back on your heels and looking like a china cat in a +thunderstorm. Now try again, that's a dear!"</p> + +<p>Hester gazed around wildly at Calvin, who was twisting himself in silent +contortions of mirth.</p> + +<p>"Take a peep!" he gasped. "She's courting Archelaus Libby, and teaching +him to look like a man."</p> + +<p>"You odious child!" Hester, ashamed of her life to have been trapped into +eavesdropping, and yet doubting her ears, strode past the edge of the rick +and into full view.</p> + +<p>Nuncey drew back with a cry.</p> + +<p>"Hester Marvin!"</p> + +<p>Hester's eyes travelled past her and rested on Archelaus. He, rigid at +attention, caught and held there spellbound, merely rolled a pair of +agonized eyes.</p> + +<p>"Nuncey! Archelaus! What on earth are you two doing?"</p> + +<p>"Learnin' him to be a Volunteer, be sure!" answered Nuncey, her face the +colour of a peony. After an instant she dropped her eyes, her cheeks +confessing the truth.</p> + +<p>"But—but why?" Hester stared from one to the other.</p> + +<p>"If he'd only be like other men!" protested Nuncey.</p> + +<p>Hester ran to her with a happy laugh. "But you wouldn't wish him like +other men!"</p> + +<p>"I do, and I don't." Nuncey eluded her embrace, having caught the sound +of ribald laughter on the other side of the rick. Darting around, she was +in time to catch Master Calvin two cuffs, right and left, upon the ears. +He broke for the gate and she pursued, but presently returned breathless.</p> + +<p>"'Tis wonderful to me," she said, eyeing Archelaus critically and sternly, +"how ever I come to listen to him. But he softened me by talking about +<i>you</i>. He's a deal more clever than he seems, and I believe at this +moment he likes you best."</p> + +<p>"I don't!" said Archelaus firmly; "begging your pardon, Miss Marvin."</p> + +<p>"I am sure you don't," laughed Hester.</p> + +<p>"Well, anyway, I'll have to tell father now," said Nuncey; "for that imp +of a boy will be putting it all round the parish."</p> + +<p>But here Archelaus asserted himself. "That's my business," he said +quietly. "It isn't any man's 'yes' or 'no' I'm afraid of, Miss Marvin, +having stood up to <i>her</i>."</p> + + +<br><br> +<p><a name = "26"></a> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXVI.</h3> + +<h4>MESSENGERS.</h4> + +<p>In Cornwall, they say, the cuckoo brings a gale of wind with him; and of +all gales in the year this is the one most dreaded by gardeners and +cidermen, for it catches the fruit trees in the height of their blossoming +season, and in its short rage wrecks a whole year's promise.</p> + +<p>Such a gale overtook the <i>Virtuous Lady</i>, homeward bound, in mid-Atlantic. +For two days and a night she ran before it; but this of course is a +seaman's phrase, and actually, fast as the wind hurled her forward, she +lagged back against it until she wallowed in its wake, and her crew gave +thanks and crept below to their bunks, too dog-weary to put off their +sodden clothes.</p> + +<p>The gale passed on and struck our south-western coast, devastating the +orchards of Cornwall and Devon and carpeting them with unborn fruit— +<i>dulcis vitæ ex-sortes</i>. Amid this unthrifty waste and hard by, off Berry +Head, the schooner <i>One-and-All</i> foundered and went down, not prematurely.</p> + +<p>Foreseeing the end, her master had given orders to lower the whale-boat. +The schooner might be apple-rotten, as her crew declared, but she carried +a whale-boat which had inspired confidence for years and induced many a +hesitating hand to sign articles; a seaworthy boat, to begin with, and by +her owner's and master's care made as nearly unsinkable as might be, +cork-fendered, fitted bow and stern with air tanks, well found in all her +gear. Woe betide the seaman who abstracted an inch of rope from her to +patch up the schooner's crazy rigging, or who left a life-belt lying loose +around the deck or a rowlock unrestored to its due place after the weekly +scrub-down!</p> + +<p>The crew, then, launched the boat—half filling her in the process—and, +tumbling in, pulled for the lee of the high land between Berry Head and +Brixham. The master took the helm. He was steering without one backward +look at the abandoned ship, when the oarsmen ceased pulling, all together, +with a cry of dismay.</p> + +<p>On the schooner's deck stood a child, waving his arms despairingly.</p> + +<p>How he came there they could not tell, nor who he was. The master, not +understanding their outcry, cursed and shouted to them to pull on. +But already the starboard oars were holding water and the bowman bringing +her around head-to-sea.</p> + +<p>"Good Lord deliver us!"</p> + +<p>The master carried a pair of binoculars, slung in a leathern case about +his shoulders inside his oilskin coat.</p> + +<p>They had been given to him by public subscription many years before, with +a purse of gold, as a reward for saving life at sea. Since then he had +forgotten in whisky-drinking and money-getting all the generous courage of +his youth. His business for many years had been to play with human life +for his own and his owner's profit, with no care but to keep on the right +side of the law. The noble impulse which had earned him this testimonial +was dead within him; to recover it he must have been born again. +He might even, by keeping his pumps going and facing out the peril for +another couple of hours, have run the <i>One-and-All</i> into Torbay and saved +her; but he had not wanted to save her. Nevertheless, when he had run +down to collect his few treasures from the cabin, these binoculars were +his first and chiefest thought, for they attached him to something in his +base career which had been noble. So careful was he, so fearful of facing +eternity and judgment—if drown he must—without them, that, although the +time was short and the danger instant, and the man by this time a coward, +he had stripped off oilskin coat and pea-jacket to indue them again and +button them over his treasure.</p> + +<p>Yet either his hands were numb or the sea-water had penetrated these wraps +and damped the tag of the leathern case, making it difficult to open. +When at length he tugged the binoculars free and sighted them, it was to +catch one glimpse, and the last, of the child waving from the bulwarks.</p> + +<p>"Good Lord deliver us!"</p> + +<p>A high-crested wave blotted out the schooner's hull. She seemed to sink +behind it, almost to midway of her main shrouds. She would lift again +into sight as that terrible wave went by—</p> + +<p>But she did not. The wave went by, but no portion of her hull appeared. +With a slow lurch forward she was gone, and the seas ran over her as +though she and her iniquity had never been.</p> + +<p>In that one glimpse through his binoculars the master, and he alone of the +crew, had recognised the child—Calvin Rosewarne, his owner's son.</p> + +<br><br> +<p>To their credit, the men pulled back for the spot where the <i>One-and-All</i> +had gone down. Not till an hour's battling had taught them the +hopelessness of a search hopeless from the first did they turn the boat +and head again for Brixham.</p> + +<br><br> +<p>The news, telegraphed from Brixham, began to spread through Troy soon +after midday. Since the law allowed it, over-insurance was accepted by +public opinion in the port almost as a matter of ordinary business; +almost, but not quite. In his heart every citizen knew it to be damnable, +and voices had been raised in public calling it damnable. Men and women +who would have risked nothing to amend the law so far felt the public +conscience agreeing with their own that they talked freely of Rosewarne's +punishment as a judgment of God. Folks in the street canvassed the news, +insensibly sinking their voices as they stared across the water at the elm +trees of Hall. Behind those elms lay a house, and within that house would +be sitting a man overwhelmed by God's vengeance.</p> + +<p>In the late afternoon a messenger knocked at Hester's door with a letter. +It was brought to her where she sat, with Mrs. Trevarthen, by Aunt +Butson's bedside, and it said—</p> + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p class = "noindent">"I wish to speak with you this evening, if you are willing." + "—S. Rosewarne."</p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + +<p>She rose at once, silently, with a glance at her two companions. They had +not spoken since close upon an hour. When first the news came the old +woman on the bed had raised herself upon her elbow, struggled a moment for +utterance, and burst into a paæn of triumphant hatred, horrible to hear. +Mrs. Trevarthen sat like one stunned. "Hush 'ee, Sarah! Hush 'ee, that's +a good soul!" she murmured once and again in feeble protest. At length +Hester, unable to endure it longer, had risen, taken the invalid by one +shoulder and forced her gently back upon the pillow.</p> + +<p>"Tell me to go," she said, "and I will leave you and not return. But to +more of this I will not listen. I believed you an ill-used woman; but you +are far less wronged than wicked if you can rejoice in the death of a +child."</p> + +<p>Since then the invalid had lain quiet, staring up at the ceiling. She did +not know—nor did Mrs. Trevarthen know—whose letter Hester held in her +hand. But now, as Hester moved towards the door, a weak voice from the +bed entreated her—</p> + +<p>"You won't leave me! I didn't mean that about the child—I didn't, +really!"</p> + +<p>"She didn't mean it," echoed Mrs. Trevarthen.</p> + +<p>"I know—I know," said Hester, and stretched out both arms in sudden +weariness, almost despair. "But oh! why in this world of burdens can we +not cast away hate, the worst and wilfullest?"</p> + +<p>It seemed to her that in her own mind during these few weeks a light had +been steadily growing, illuminating many things she had been wont to +puzzle over or habitually to pass by as teasing and obscure. She saw the +whole world constructed on one purpose, that all living creatures should +love and help one another to be happy. Even such a man as Rosewarne found +a place in it, as one to be pitied because he erred against this light. +Yes, and even the death of this child had a place in the scheme, since, +calling for pity, it called for one of the divinest exercises of love. +She marvelled, as she crossed in the ferry-boat, why the passengers, one +and all, discussed it as a direct visitation upon Rosewarne, as though +Rosewarne had offended against some agreement in which they and God +Almighty stood together, and they had left the fellow in God's hands with +a confidence which yet allowed them room to admire the dramatic neatness +of His methods. She longed to tell them that they were all mistaken, and +her eyes sought old Daddo's, who alone took no part in this talk. +But old Daddo pulled his stroke without seeming to listen, his brow +puckered a little, his eyes bent on the boat's wake abstractedly as though +he communed with an inward vision.</p> + +<p>At the front door of Hall Susannah met her, white and tearful.</p> + +<p>"I heard that he'd sent for you." Susannah sank her voice almost to a +whisper. "He's in the counting-house. You be'n't afeard?"</p> + +<p>"Why should I be afraid?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. He's that strange. For months now he've a-been strange; +but for two days he've a-sat there, wi'out food or drink, and the door +locked most of the time. Not for worlds would I step into that room +alone."</p> + +<p>"For two days?"</p> + +<p>"Ever since he opened the poor child's letter; for a letter there was, +though the Lord knows what was in it. You're sure you be'n't afeard?"</p> + +<p>Hester stepped past her and through the great parlour, and tapped gently +on the counting-house door. Her knock was answered by the sound of a key +turning in the lock, and Rosewarne opened to her.</p> + +<p>At the moment she could not see his face, for a lamp on the writing-table +behind silhouetted him in black shadow. Her eyes wandered over the room's +disarray, and all her senses quailed together in its exhausted atmosphere.</p> + +<p>He closed the door, but did not lock it again, motioned her to a chair, +and dropped heavily into his accustomed seat by the writing-table, +where for a while his fingers played nervously with the scattered papers. +Now by the lamplight she noted the extreme greyness of his face and the +hard brilliance of his eyes, usually so dull and fish-like.</p> + +<p>"I am much obliged to you for coming," he began in a level, almost +business-like tone, but without looking up. "There are some questions I +want to ask. You have heard the news, of course?"</p> + +<p>"Everyone has heard. I am sorry—so sorry! It is terrible."</p> + +<p>"Thank you," said he, with a slight inclination of the head, as though +acknowledging some remark of small and ordinary politeness. "Perhaps you +would like to see this?" He picked up a crumpled sheet of notepaper, +smoothed out the creases, and handed it to her. Taking it, she read this, +written in a childish, ill-formed hand—</p> + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p class = "noindent">"Dear Father,—When this reaches you I shall be at sea. I hope you + won't mind very much, as it runs in the family, and some of those + that done it have turned out best. I don't get any good staying at + home. I love you and you love me, but nobody else does, and nobody + understands. I thought Miss Marvin understood, but she went away and + forgot. Never mind, it will be all right when I am a man. + I will come back, for you mustn't think I don't love you." + "—Your affect. son,"<br> +<span class = "ind15">"C. Rosewarne."</span><br></p> + +</blockquote></blockquote> + +<p>As Hester looked up she found Mr. Samuel's eyes fixed on her for the first +time, and fixed on her curiously.</p> + +<p>"You don't approve, perhaps, of cousins marrying?" he asked slowly.</p> + +<p>Was the man mad, as Susannah had hinted?</p> + +<p>"I—I don't understand you, Mr. Rosewarne."</p> + +<p>"Your mother had an only sister—an elder sister—who went out to +Dominica, and there married a common soldier. Did you know this?"</p> + +<p>"I knew that my mother had a sister, and that there had been some +disgrace. My father never spoke of it, and my mother died when I was very +young; but in some way—as children do—I came to know."</p> + +<p>"I thought you might know more, but it does not matter now. My father was +that common soldier, and the disgrace did not lie in her marrying him. +Before the marriage—I have a copy here of the entry in the register—a +child was born. Yes, stare at me well, Cousin Hester, stare at me, your +cousin, though born in bastardy!"</p> + +<p>His eyes seemed to force her backward, and she leaned back, clasping the +arms of her chair.</p> + +<p>"I learnt this a short while before my father died. I had only his word +for it—he gave me no particulars; but I have hunted them up, and he told +me the truth. Knowing them, I concealed them for the sake of the child +that was drowned to-day; otherwise, the estate being entailed, his +inheritance would have passed to Clem, and he and I were interlopers. +Are you one of those who believe that God has punished me by drowning my +son? You have better grounds than the rest for believing it."</p> + +<p>"No," said Hester, after a long pause, remembering what thoughts had been +in her mind as she crossed the ferry.</p> + +<p>"Why not?"</p> + +<p>"The child had done no evil. God is just, or God does not exist. He must +have had some other purpose than to punish you."</p> + +<p>"You are right. He may have used that purpose to afflict me yet the +more—though I don't believe it; but my true punishment—my worse +punishment—began long before. Cousin, cousin, you see clearly! +How often might you have helped me during these months I have been in +hell! Can you think how a man feels who is afraid of himself? +No, you cannot; but I say to you there is no worse hell, and through that +hell I have been walking since the day I went near to killing Clem. +You saved me that once, and then you turned and left me. I wanted you— +no, not to marry me! When a man fears himself he thinks no more of +affection. I wanted you, I craved for you, to save me—to save me again +and again, and as often as the madness mastered me. A word from you would +have made me docile as a child. I should have done you no hurt. +On your walks and about your lodging at night I have dogged you for that +word, afraid to show myself, afraid to knock and demand it. By this time +I had discovered you were my cousin. 'Blood is thicker than water'—over +and over I told myself this. 'Sooner or later,' I said, 'the voice in our +blood will whisper to her, and she will turn and help my need.' But you +never turned, and why? Because you were in love, and if fear is selfish, +love is selfish too!"</p> + +<p>He paused for breath, eyeing her with a gloomy, bitter smile. +"Oh, there's no harm in my knowing your secret," he went on. "I'm past +hating Tom Trevarthen, and past all jealousy. All I ever asked was that +he should spare you to help me—a cup of cold water for a tongue in hell; +I didn't want your love. But that's where the selfishness of love comes +in. It can't spare even what it doesn't need for itself. It wants the +whole world to be happy; but when the unhappy cry to it, it doesn't hear."</p> + +<p>Hester stood up, her eyes brimming. "You are right," she said, "I did not +hear. I never guessed at all. Tell me now that I can help."</p> + +<p>"It is too late," he answered. "I no longer want your help."</p> + +<p>"Surely to-day, if ever, you need your neighbours' pity and their +prayers?"</p> + +<p>He laughed aloud. "That shows how little you understand! You and my +precious neighbours think of me as brooding here, mourning for my lost +boy. I tell you I am glad—yes, glad! <i>This</i> is no part of God's +punishment! It was the future I feared: He has taken it from me. +I can suffer at ease now, knowing the end. See now, I have confessed to +you the wrong I did that blind child, and the confession has eased me. +I could not have confessed it yesterday—the burden of living grows +lighter, you perceive. I don't repent; it doesn't seem to me that I have +any use for repentance. If what I have done deserves punishment in +another world, I must suffer it; but I know it cannot be half what I have +suffered of late. No, cousin, I need you no longer. There is no sting to +rankle, now that hope—hope for my boy—has gone. I can rest quiet now, +with my own damnation."</p> + +<p>She put out a hand, protesting, but he turned from her—they were standing +face to face—and opening the door, stood aside to let her pass.</p> + +<p>"I thank you for coming," he said gravely. "What I have told you—about +the inheritance, I mean—will be no secret after the next few days."</p> + +<p>She halted and looked at him inquiringly. "It will be a secret safe with +me," she said. Her eyes still searched his.</p> + +<p>For the second time he laughed. "The children will be home in a few days; +I wait here till then. That is all I meant."</p> + +<br><br> +<p>In the dusk by the ferry-slip old Daddo stood ready to push off. +Hester was the only passenger, for it was Saturday, and on Saturdays, at +this hour, all the traffic flowed away from the town, returning from +market to the country.</p> + +<p>Her eyes were red, and it may be that old Daddo noted this, for midway +across, and without any warning, he rested on his oars, scanning her +earnestly.</p> + +<p>"You have been calling on Rosewarne, miss?—making so bold."</p> + +<p>She nodded.</p> + +<p>"I see'd you looking t'ards me just now as we crossed. I see'd you glance +up as <i>they</i>, in their foolishness, was reckoning they knew the mind o' +God. Tell me, miss, how he bears it?"</p> + +<p>"He bears it; but without hope, for his trouble goes deeper."</p> + + +<br><br> +<p><a name = "27"></a> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXVII.</h3> + +<h4>HOME.</h4> + +<p>Mr. Benny, arriving next morning at the ferry to cross over to his office, +opened his eyes very wide indeed to see the boat waiting by the slip and +his late master, Samuel Rosewarne, standing solitary within it, holding on +to a shore-ring by the boat-hook.</p> + +<p>"But whatever has become of Daddo?" Mr. Benny's gaze, travelling round, +rested for one moment of wild suspicion on the door of the 'Sailor's +Return,' hard by.</p> + +<p>"With your leave he has given up his place to me for a while," said +Rosewarne slowly. "I have come to ask you that favour, Mr. Benny."</p> + +<p>The little man stepped on board, wondering, nor till half-way across could +he find speech. + +"It hurts me to see you doing this, sir; it does indeed. If old Nicky Vro +could look down and see you so demeaning yourself, you can't think but +he'd say 'twas too much."</p> + +<p>"I did Nicky Vro an injury once, and a mortal one. But I never gave him +licence to know, on earth or in heaven, what my conscience requires. +It requires this, Mr. Benny; and unless you forbid it, we'll say no more."</p> + +<p>The common opinion on both shores was that grief had turned Rosewarne's +brain. He had prepared himself against laughter; but no one laughed: and +though, as the news spread, curiosity brought many to the shores to see, +the groups dispersed as the boat approached. Public penance is a rare +thing in these days, and all found it easier to believe that the man was +mad. Some read the Lord's retributive hand again in the form his madness +took.</p> + +<p>In silence he took the passengers' coppers or handed them their change. +Few men had ever opened talk with Rosewarne, and none were bold enough to +attempt it in the three days during which he plied the ferry.</p> + +<p>"You left him lonely to his sinning; leave him alone now," said old Daddo, +tilling his cottage-garden up the hill, to the neighbours who leaned +across his fence questioning him about his share in the strange business. +His advice was idle; they could not help themselves. Something in +Rosewarne's face forbade speech.</p> + +<p>On the evening of the third day he saw the signal for which he waited—the +smoke of a tug rising above the low roofs on the town quay, and above the +smoke the top-gallants and royals of a tall vessel pencilled against the +sunset's glow. With his eyes upon the vision he rowed to shore and +silently as ever took the fees of his passengers and gave them their +change; then, having made fast the boat, he walked up to Mr. Benny's +office.</p> + +<p>"You have done me one service," he said. "I ask you to do me a second. +The <i>Virtuous Lady</i> has come into port; in five minutes or less she will +drop anchor. Take boat and pull to her. Tell Mrs. Purchase that I have +gone up the hill to Hall, and will be waiting there; and if you can +persuade her, bring her ashore in your boat."</p> + +<p>Mr. Benny reached up for his hat.</p> + +<p>"Say that I am waiting to speak with her alone. On no account must she +bring the children."</p> + +<p>Up in the Widows' Houses, high above the murmur of the little port, no ear +caught the splash as the <i>Virtuous Lady's</i> anchor found and held her to +home again. In Aunt Butson's room Hester sat and read aloud to her +patient. The book was the Book of Proverbs, from which Aunt Butson +professed that she, for her part, derived more comfort than from all the +four Gospels put together. For an hour Hester read on steadily, and then, +warned by the sound of regular breathing, glanced at the bed and shut the +Bible.</p> + +<p>Rising, she paused for a moment, watching the sleeper, opened and closed +the door behind her gently, and bent her steps towards Mrs. Trevarthen's +room, at the far end of the gallery; but on the way her eyes fell on a +group of daffodils in bloom below, in the quadrangle. Two flights of +stairs led up from the quadrangle, one at either end of the gallery; and +stepping back to the head of that one which mounted not far from Aunt +Butson's door, she descended and plucked a handful of the flowers. +Returning to the gallery by the other stairway, she was more than a little +surprised to see Mrs. Trevarthen's door, at the head of it, almost wide +open. For Mrs. Trevarthen, worn-out and weary, had left her only an hour +ago under a solemn promise to go straight to bed, and Hester had been +minded to arrange these flowers for her while she slept.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Trevarthen!" she called indignantly from the stair-head. +"Mrs. Trevarthen! What did you promise me?"</p> + +<p>A tall figure, dark against the farther window, rose from its stooping +posture over the bed where Mrs. Trevarthen lay, turned, and confronted her +in the doorway with a glad and wondering stare.</p> + +<p>"Miss Marvin!"</p> + +<p>"Tom! oh, Tom!" cried his mother's voice within. "To think I haven't told +you! But you give me no time!"</p> + +<p>A minute later, as Hester walked away along the gallery, she heard his +step following.</p> + +<p>"But why wouldn't you come in?" he demanded, and went on before she could +answer, "To think of your being Matron here! But of course mother had no +time to reach me with a letter."</p> + +<p>"She gave me yours to read," said Hester mischievously; whereat Tom +flushed and looked away and laughed. "Tell me," she went on. "What did +she answer?"</p> + +<p>"She? Who?"</p> + +<p>"Why, Harriet—wasn't that her name?"</p> + +<p>"There's no such person."</p> + +<p>"What? Do you mean to say it was all a trick, and there's no Harriet +Sands in existence?"</p> + +<p>"You're wrong now. There <i>is</i> a Harriet Sands, and she belongs to Runcorn +too; only she's a ship."</p> + +<p>"A ship! And the letter you made me write—it almost made me cry, too—was +<i>that</i> meant only for a ship?"</p> + +<p>"No, it was not—but you're laughing at me." He turned almost savagely, +and catching sight of something in her eyes, stood still. "If you only +knew—-<i>do</i> you know?"</p> + +<p>"I wish I did—I think I do."</p> + +<p>He caught at her hands and clasped them over the daffodils.</p> + +<br><br> +<p>"If ever I'm a widow," said a panting voice a few paces away, "if ever I'm +a widow (which the Lord forbid!), I'll end my days on a ground floor 'pon +the flat. Companion-ladders is bad enough when you've a man to look +after; but when you've put 'en away and can take your meals easy, to chase +a bereaved woman up a hill like the side of a house, an' <i>then</i> up a flight +of stairs, for five shillings a week and all found—O-oh!"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Purchase halted at the stair-head; and it is a question which of +three faces was redder.</p> + +<p>"O-oh!" repeated Mrs. Purchase. "Here come I with news enough to upset a +town, and simmin' to me here's a pair that won't value it more'n a rush. +Well-a-well! Am I to go away, my dears, or wish 'ee fortune? You're a +sly fellow too, Tom Trevarthen, to go and get hold of a schoolmistress, +when 'tis only a little schoolin' you want to get a certificate and be +master of a ship. That's the honest truth, my dear,"—she turned to +Hester. "'Twas he that worked the <i>Virtuous Lady</i> home, and if you can +teach 'en navigation to pass the board, he shall have her and you too. +Do I mean it? Iss, fay, I mean it. I'm hauled ashore. 'Tis 'Lord, now +lettest Thou Thy servant,' with Hannah Purchase."</p> + +<p>Late that evening Clem and Myra walked hand in hand, hushed, through the +unkempt garden—their garden now, though to their childish intelligence no +more theirs than it had always been. They might lift their voices now and +run shouting with no one to rebuke them. They understood this, yet +somehow they did not put it to the proof. Home was home, and the old +constraint a part of it.</p> + +<br><br> +<p>Late that same evening Samuel Rosewarne passed down the streets of +Plymouth and unlatched the door of a dingy house which, empty of human +love, of childhood, of friendship, was yet his home and the tolerable +refuge of his soul. He no longer feared himself. He could face the +future. He could live out his life.</p> + +<p> </p> +<h2>THE END.</h2> +<p> </p> + +<center> +<table border=0 bgcolor="ccccff" cellpadding=10> + <tr> + <td> +Transcriber's note:<br> +<br> +The following corrections were made to the text.<br> +<br> +Chapter IV<br> +<span class="ind2">'a petty tradesman's daughter of Warwick'</span><br> +<span class="ind2">to 'a pretty tradesman's daughter of Warwick'</span><br> +<br> +Chapter VI<br> +<span class="ind2">'You'm wanted at home, and to once!"</span><br> +<span class="ind2">to 'You'm wanted to home, and at once!"</span><br> +<span class="ind2">(The Cornish tend to say--He's to Truro rather than--He's at Truro)</span><br> +<br> +Chapter XV<br> +<span class="ind2">'C let us give thanks to the lord'</span><br> +<span class="ind2">to 'Come let us give thanks to the lord'</span><br> +<br> +Chapter XXIII<br> +<span class="ind2">'They why are you left on board?'</span><br> +<span class="ind2">to 'Then why are you left on board'</span><br> +<br> +Chapter XXIV<br> +<span class="ind2">'I hall be surprised'</span><br> +<span class="ind2">to 'I shall be surprised'</span><br> +<br> +Chapter XXV<br> +<span class="ind2">'but simply because her elate spirit craved for a talk'</span><br> +<span class="ind2">to 'but simply because her elated spirit craved for a talk'</span> + </td> + </tr> +</table> +</center> + +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" noshade> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SHINING FERRY***</p> +<p>******* This file should be named 23647-h.txt or 23647-h.zip *******</p> +<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br> +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/3/6/4/23647">http://www.gutenberg.org/2/3/6/4/23647</a></p> +<p>Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed.</p> + +<p>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. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution.</p> + + + +<pre> +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/license">http://www.gutenberg.org/license)</a>. + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +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 + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS,' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at http://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/pglaf. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at http://www.gutenberg.org/about/contact + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit http://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/pglaf + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: http://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + +Each eBook is in a subdirectory of the same number as the eBook's +eBook number, often in several formats including plain vanilla ASCII, +compressed (zipped), HTML and others. + +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks replace the old file and take over +the old filename and etext number. The replaced older file is renamed. +VERSIONS based on separate sources are treated as new eBooks receiving +new filenames and etext numbers. + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org">http://www.gutenberg.org</a> + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + +EBooks posted prior to November 2003, with eBook numbers BELOW #10000, +are filed in directories based on their release date. If you want to +download any of these eBooks directly, rather than using the regular +search system you may utilize the following addresses and just +download by the etext year. + +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/etext06/">http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/etext06/</a> + + (Or /etext 05, 04, 03, 02, 01, 00, 99, + 98, 97, 96, 95, 94, 93, 92, 92, 91 or 90) + +EBooks posted since November 2003, with etext numbers OVER #10000, are +filed in a different way. The year of a release date is no longer part +of the directory path. The path is based on the etext number (which is +identical to the filename). The path to the file is made up of single +digits corresponding to all but the last digit in the filename. For +example an eBook of filename 10234 would be found at: + +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/0/2/3/10234 + +or filename 24689 would be found at: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/4/6/8/24689 + +An alternative method of locating eBooks: +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/GUTINDEX.ALL">http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/GUTINDEX.ALL</a> + +*** END: FULL LICENSE *** +</pre> +</body> +</html> diff --git a/23647.txt b/23647.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..8ce8ed0 --- /dev/null +++ b/23647.txt @@ -0,0 +1,10245 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, Shining Ferry, by Sir Arthur Thomas +Quiller-Couch + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: Shining Ferry + + +Author: Sir Arthur Thomas Quiller-Couch + + + +Release Date: November 28, 2007 [eBook #23647] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SHINING FERRY*** + + +E-text prepared by Lionel Sear + + + +SHINING FERRY. + +by + +ARTHUR THOMAS QUILLER-COUCH ("Q"). + + + + + + + +1910 + +This e-text was prepared from a reprint of a version published in 1905. + + + +CONTENTS + + BOOK I. + + I. ROSEWARNE OF HALL. + + II. FATHERS AND CHILDREN. + + III. ROSEWARNE'S PILGRIMAGE. + + IV. ROSEWARNE'S PENANCE. + + V. THE CLOSE OF A STEWARDSHIP. + + VI. THE RAFTERS. + + VII. THE HEIRS OF HALL. + + BOOK II. + + VIII. HESTER ARRIVES. + + IX. MR. SAMUEL'S POLICY. + + X. NUNCEY. + + XI. HESTER IS ACCEPTED. + + XII. THE OPENING DAY. + + XIII. TOM TREVARTHEN INTERVENES. + + XIV. MR. SAM IS MAGNANIMOUS. + + XV. MYRA IN DISGRACE. + + BOOK III. + + XVI. AUNT BUTSON CLOSES SCHOOL. + + XVII. PETER BENNEY'S DISMISSAL. + + XVIII. RIGHT OF FERRY. + + XIX. THE INTERCEDERS. + + XX. AN OUTBURST. + + XXI. MR. BENNY GETS PROMOTION. + + XXII. CLEM IS LOST TO MYRA. + + XXIII. HESTER WRITES A LOVE LETTER. + + XXIV. THE RESCUE. + + XXV. BUT TOM CAN WRITE. + + XXVI. MESSENGERS. + + XXVII. HOME. + + + + +CHAPTER I. + + +ROSEWARNE OF HALL. + +John Rosewarne sat in his counting-house at Hall, dictating a letter to +his confidential clerk. The letter ran-- + + "Dear Sir,--In answer to yours of the 6th inst., I beg to inform you + that in consequence of an arrangement with the Swedish firms, by + which barrel-staves will be trimmed and finished to three standard + lengths before shipment, we are enabled to offer an additional + discount of five per cent, for the coming season on orders of five + thousand staves and upwards. Such orders, however, should reach us + before the fishery begins, as we hold ourselves free to raise the + price at any time after 1st July. A consignment is expected from the + Baltic within the next fortnight." + +The little clerk looked up. His glance inquired, "Is that all?" + +"Wait a minute." His master seemed to be reflecting; then leaning back in +his chair and gripping its arms while he stared out of the bow-window +before him, he resumed his dictation-- + + "I hope to be in Plymouth on Wednesday next, and that you will hold + yourself ready for a call between two and three in the afternoon at + your office." + +"I beg your pardon, sir," the clerk interposed, "but Mr. Samuel closes +early on Wednesdays. + +"I know it. Go on, please-- + + "I have some matters to discuss alone with you, and they may take a + considerable time. Kindly let me know by return if the date + suggested is inconvenient." + +"That will do." He held out his hand for the paper, and signed it, +"Yours truly, John Rosewarne," while the clerk addressed the envelope. +This concluded their day's work. + +Rosewarne pulled out his watch, consulted it, and fell again to staring +out of the open window. A climbing Banksia rose overgrew the sill and ran +up the mullions, its clusters of nankeen buds stirred by the breeze and +nodding against the pale sunset sky. Beyond the garden lay a small +orchard fringed with elms; and below this the slope fell so steeply down +to the harbourthat the elm-tops concealed its shipping and all but the +chimney-smoke of a busy little town on its farther shore. High over this +smoke the rooks were trailing westward and homeward. + +Rosewarne heard the clank of mallets in a shipbuilding yard below. +Then five o'clock struck from the church tower across the water, and the +mallets ceased; but far down by the harbour's mouth the crew of a +foreign-bound ship sang at the windlass-- + + Good-bye, fare-ye-well--Good-bye, fare-ye-well! + +[In the original text a short length of musical score is shown] + +The vessel belonged to him. He controlled most of the shipping and a good +half of the harbour's trade. As for the town at his feet, had you +examined his ledgers you might fancy its smoke ascending to him as +incense. He sat with his strong hand resting on the arms of his chair, +with the last gold of daylight touching his white hair and the lines of +his firm, clean-shaven face, and overlooked his local world and his +possessions. If they brought him happiness, he did not smile. + +He aroused himself with a kind of shake of the shoulders, and stretched +out a hand to ring, as his custom was after the day's work, for a draught +of cider. + +"Eh? Anything more?" he asked; for the little clerk, having gathered up +his papers, had advanced close to the corner of the writing-table, and +waited there with an air of apology. + +"I beg your pardon, sir--the 28th of May. I had no opportunity this +morning, but if I may take the liberty."-- + +"My birthday, Benny? So it is; and, begad, I believe you're the only soul +to remember it. Stay a moment."-- + +He rang the bell, and ordered the maidservant to bring in a full jug of +cider and two glasses. At the signal, a small Italian greyhound, who had +been awaiting it, came forward fawning from her lair in the corner, and, +encouraged by a snap of the fingers, leapt up to her master's knee. + +"May God send you many, sir, and His mercy follow you all your days!" said +little Mr. Benny, with sudden fervour. Relapsing at once into his +ordinary manner, he produced a scrap of paper and tendered it shyly. +"If you will think it appropriate," he explained. + +"The usual compliment? Hand it over, man." Mr. Rosewarne took the paper +and read-- + + "Another year, another milestone past; + Dear sir, I hope it will not be the last: + But more I hope that, when the road is trod, + You find the Inn, and sit you down with God." + +"Thank you, Benny. Your own composition?" + +"I ventured to consult my brother, sir. The idea--if I may so call it-- +was mine, however." + +Mr. Rosewarne leant forward, and picking up a pen, docketed the paper with +the day of the month and the year. He then pulled out a drawer on the +left-hand side of his knee-hole table, selected a packet labelled +"Complimentary, P. B."--his clerk's initials--slipped the new verses under +the elastic band containing similar contributions of twenty years, +replaced the packet, and shut the drawer. The little greyhound, displaced +by these operations, sprang again to his knees, and he fell to fondling +her ears. + +"I do not think there will be many more miles, Benny," said he, reaching +for the cider-jug. "But let us drink to the rest of the way." + +"A great many, I hope, sir," remonstrated Mr. Benny. "And, sir--talking +about milestones--you will be pleased to hear that Mrs. Benny was confined +this morning. A fine boy." + +"That must be the ninth at least." + +"The eleventh, sir--six girls and five boys: besides three buried." + +"Good Lord!" + +"They bring their love with them, sir, as the saying is." + +"And as the saying also is, Benny, it would be more to the purpose if they +brought their boots and shoes. Man, you must have a nerve, to trust +Providence as you do!" + +"It's a struggle, sir, as you can guess; but except to your kindness in +employing me, I am beholden to no man. I say it humbly--the Lord has been +kind to me." + +Rosewarne looked up for a moment and with a curious eagerness, as though +on the point of putting a question. He suppressed it, however. + +"It seems to me," he said slowly, "in this question of many children or +few there's a natural conflict between the private man and the citizen; +yes, that's how I put it--a natural conflict. I don't believe in Malthus +or any talk about over-population. A nation can't breed too many sons. +Sons are her strength, and if she is to whip her rivals it will be by the +big battalions. Therefore, as I argue it out, a good citizen should beget +many children. But now turn to the private side of it. A man wants to do +the best for his own; and whatever his income, he can do better for two +children than for half a dozen. To be sure, he mayn't turn 'em out as he +intended."-- + +Here Rosewarne paused for a while unwittingly, as his eyes fell on the +packet of letters in Mr. Benny's hand. The uppermost--the business +letter which he had just signed--was addressed to his only son. + +"--But all the same," he went on, "he has fitted them out and given them +a better chance in the struggle for life. The devil takes the hindmost +in this world, Benny. I'd like to lend you a book of Darwin's--the +biggest book of this century, and a new gospel for the next to think out. +The conclusion is that the spoils go to the strongest. You may help a man +for the use you can make of him, but in the end every man's your natural +enemy." + +"A terrible gospel, sir! I shall have to get along with the old one, +which says, 'Bear ye one another's burdens.'" + +"I won't lend you the book. 'Twouldn't be fair to a man of your age, with +eleven children. And after all, as I said, the new gospel has a place for +patriots. They breed the raw material by which a nation crushes all +rivals; then, when the fighting is over, along comes your man with money +and a trained wit, and collars the spoils." + +Mr. Benny stood shuffling his weight from one foot to the other. +"Even if yours were the last word in this world, sir, there's another to +reckon with." + +"And meanwhile you're on pins and needles to be off to your wife's +bedside. Very well, man--drink up your cider; and many thanks for your +good wishes!" + +As Mr. Benny hurried towards the wicket-gate and the street leading down +to the ferry, he caught sight, across the hedge, of two children seated +together in a corner of the garden on the step of a summer arbour, and +paused to wave a hand to them. + +They were a girl and a boy--the girl about eight years old and the boy a +year or so younger--and the pair were occupied in making a garland such as +children carry about on May-morning--two barrel-hoops fixed crosswise and +mounted on a pole. The girl had laid the pole across her lap, and was +binding the hoops with ferns and wild hyacinths, wallflowers, and garden +tulips, talking the while with the boy, who bent his head close by hers +and seemed to peer into the flowers. But in fact he was blind. + +"You're late!" the girl called to Mr. Benny. At the sound of her voice, +the boy too waved a hand to him. + +"It's your grandfather's birthday, and I've been drinking his health." +He beckoned them over to the hedge. "And it's another person's birthday," +he announced mysteriously. + +"Bless the man! you don't tell me you've gone and got another!" exclaimed +the girl. + +Mr. Benny nodded, no whit abashed. + +"Boy or girl?" + +"Boy." + +"What is he like?" asked the boy. His blindness came from some defect of +the optic nerve, and did not affect the beauty of his eyes, which were +curiously reflective (as though they looked inwards), and in colour a deep +violet-grey. + +"I hadn't much time to take stock of him this morning," Mr. Benny +confessed; "but the doctor said he was a fine one." He nodded at the +garland. "Birthday present for your grandfather?" he asked. + +"Grandfather doesn't bother himself about us," the girl answered. +"Besides, what would he do with it?" + +"I know--I know. It's better be unmannerly than troublesome, as they say; +and you'd like to please him, but feel too shy to offer it. That's like +me. I had it on my tongue just now to ask him to stand godfather--the +child's birthday being the same as his own. 'Twas the honour of it I +wanted; but like as not (thought I) he'll set it down that I'm fishing for +something else, and when it didn't strike him to offer I felt I couldn't +mention it." + +"_I'll_ ask him, if you like." + +"Not on any account! No, please, you mustn't! Promise me." + +"Very well." + +"I oughtn't to have mentioned it, but,"--Mr. Benny rubbed the back of his +head. "You don't know how it is--no, of course you wouldn't; somehow, +when a child's born, I want to be talking all day." + +"Like a hen. Well, run along home, and some day you shall ask us to tea +with it." + +But Mr. Benny had reached the wicket. It slammed behind him, and he ran +down the street to the ferry at a round trot. He might have spared his +haste, for he had to cool his heels for a good ten minutes on the slipway, +and fill up the time in telling his news to half a dozen workmen gathered +there and awaiting the boat. Old Nicky Vro, the ferryman, had pulled the +same leisurable stroke for forty years now, and was not to be hurried. + +The workmen were carpenters, all engaged upon the new schoolhouse above +the hill, and returning from their day's job. They discussed the building +as Nicky Vro tided them over. Its fittings, they agreed, were something +out of the common. + +"'Tis the old man's whim," said one. "He's all for education now, and the +latest improvements. 'Capability'--that's his word." + +"A poor lookout it'll be for Aunt Butson and her Infant School." + +"He'll offer her the new place, maybe," it was suggested. + +But all laughed at this. "What? with his notions? He's a darned sight +more likely to offer her Nicky's job, here!" + +Nicky smiled complacently in his half-witted way. "That's a joke, too," +said he. He knew himself to be necessary to the ferry. + +He pulled on--still with the same digging stroke which he could not have +altered for a fortune--while his passengers discussed Rosewarne and +Rosewarne's ways. + +"Tis a hungry gleaning where he've a-reaped," said the man who had spoken +of capability; "but I don't blame the old Greek--not I. 'Do or be done, +miss doing and be done for'--that's the world's motto nowadays; and if I +hadn't learnt it for myself, I've a son in America to write it home. +Here we be all in a heap, and the lucky one levers himself a-top." + +Mr. Benny said good-night to them on the landing-slip, and broke into a +trot for home. + +"'Tisn't true," he kept repeating to himself, almost fiercely for so mild +a little man. "'Tisn't true, whatever it sounds. There's another world; +and in this one--don't I _know_ it?--there's love, love, love!" + + + +CHAPTER II. + + +FATHERS AND CHILDREN. + +John Rosewarne fetched his hat and staff from the hall, and started on his +customary stroll around the farm-buildings, with the small greyhound +trotting daintily at his heels. + +The lands of Hall march with those of a far larger estate, to which they +once belonged, and of which Hall itself had once been the chief seat. +The house--a grey stone building with two wings and a heavy porch midway +between them--dated from 1592, and had received its shape of a capital E +in compliment to Queen Elizabeth. King Charles himself had lodged in it +for a day during the Civil War, and while inspecting the guns on a +terraced walk above the harbour, had narrowly escaped a shot fired across +from the town where Essex's troops lay in force. The shot killed a poor +fisherman beside him, and His Majesty that afternoon gave thanks for his +own preservation in the private chapel of Hall. In those days, the porch +and all the main windows looked seaward upon this chapel across half an +acre of green-sward, but the Rosewarnes had since converted the lawn into +a farmyard and the shrine into a cow-byre. Above it ran a line of tall +elms screening a lane used by the farm-carts, and above this again a great +field of arable rounded itself against the sky. + +From the top of Parc-an-hal--so the field was named--the eye travelled +over a goodly prospect: sea and harbour; wide stretches of cultivated land +intersected by sunken woodlands which marked the winding creeks of the +river; other woodlands yet more distant, embowering the great mansion of +Damelioc; the purple rise of a down capped by a monument commemorating +ancient battles. The scene held old and deeply written meanings for +Rosewarne, as he gazed over it in the descending twilight--meanings he had +spent his life to acquire, and other meanings born with him in his blood. + + +Once upon a time there lived a wicked nobleman. He owned Damelioc, and +had also for his pleasure the house and estate of Hall, whence his family +had moved to their lordlier mansion two generations before his birth. +Being exiled to the country from the Court of Queen Anne, he cast about +for some civilised way of passing the time, and one day, as he lounged at +church in his great pew, his eye fell on Rachel Rosewarne, a gipsy-looking +girl, sitting under the gallery. This Rachel's father was a fisherman, +tall of stature, who planted himself one night in the road as my lord +galloped homeward to Damelioc. The horse shied, and the rider was thrown. +Rosewarne picked him up, dusted his lace coat carefully, and led him aside +into this very field of Parc-an-hal. No one knows what talk they held +there, but on his lordship's dying, in 1712, of wounds received in a duel +in Hyde Park, Rachel Rosewarne produced a deed, which the widow's lawyers +did not contest, and entered Hall as its mistress, with her son Charles-- +then five years old. + +Rachel Rosewarne died in 1760 at the age of seventy-six, leaving a grim +reputation, which survived for another hundred years in the talk of the +countryside. While she lived, her grip on the estate never relaxed. +Her son grew up a mere hind upon the home-farm. When he reached +twenty-five, she saddled her grey horse, rode over to Looe, and returned +with a maid for him--one of the Mayows, a pale, submissive creature--whom +he duly married. She made the young couple no allowance, but kept them at +Hall as her pensioners. In the year 1747, Charles (by this time a man of +forty) had the temerity to get religion from the Rev. John Wesley. +The great preacher had assembled a crowd on the green by the cross-roads +beyond Parc-an-hal. Charles Rosewarne, who was stalling the cattle after +milking-time, heard the outcries, and strolled up the road to look. +Two hours later he returned, fell on his knees in the outer kitchen, and +began to wrestle for his soul, the farm-maids standing around and crying +with fright. But half to hour later his mother returned from Liskeard +market, strode into the kitchen in her riding-skirt, and took him by the +collar. "You base-born mongrel!" she called out. "You barn-straw whelp! +What has the Lord to do with one of your breed?" She dragged him to his +feet and laid her horse-whip over head and shoulders. Madam had more than +once used that whip upon an idling labourer in the fields. + +She died, leaving the estate in good order and clear of debt. Charles +Rosewarne enjoyed his inheritance just eleven years, and, dying in 1771 of +_angina pectoris_, left two married daughters and a son, Nicholas, on whom +the estate was entailed, subject to a small annual charge for maintaining +his mother. + +In this Nicholas all the family passions broke out afresh. He had been +the one living creature for whom Madam Rachel's flinty breast had nursed a +spark of love, and at fourteen he had rewarded her by trying to set fire +to her skirts as she dozed in her chair. At nineteen, in a fit of +drunkenness, he struck his father. He married a tap-room girl from +St. Austell, and beat her. She gave him two sons: the elder (named +Nicholas, after his father), a gentle boy, very bony in limb, after the +fashion of the Rosewarnes; the younger, Michael, an epileptic. His mother +had been turned out of doors one night in a north-westerly gale, and had +lain till morning in a cold pew of the disused chapel, whereby the child +came to birth prematurely. This happened in 1771, the year that Nicholas +took possession of the estate. He treated his old mother even worse, +being fierce with her because of the small annual charge. She grew blind +and demented toward the end, and was given a room in the west wing, over +the counting-house. Nicholas removed the door-handle on the inside, and +the wainscot there still showed a dull smear, rubbed by the poor +creature's shoulder as she trotted round and round; also marks upon the +door, where her fingers had grabbled for the missing handle. There were +dreadful legends of this Nicholas--one in particular of a dark foreigner +who had been landed, heavily ironed, from a passing ship, and had found +hospitality at Hall. The ship (so the story went) was a pirate, and the +man so monstrously wicked that even her crew could not endure him. +During his sojourn the cards and drink were going at Hall night and day, +and every night found Nicholas mad-drunk. He began to mortgage, and +whispers went abroad of worse ways of meeting his losses; of ships lured +upon the rocks, and half-drowned sailors knocked upon the head, or chopped +at with axes. + +All this came to an end in the great thunderstorm of 1778, when the +harvesters, running for shelter to the kitchen, found Nicholas lying in +the middle of the floor with his mouth twisted and eyeballs staring. +They were lifting the body, when a cry from the women fetched them to the +windows, in time to catch a glimpse of the foreigner sneaking away under +cover of the low west wall. As he broke into a run the lightning flashed +upon the corners of a brass-bound box he carried under his arm. One or +two gave chase, but the rain met them on the outer threshold in a deluge, +and in the blind confusion of it he made off, nor was seen again. + +Thus died Nicholas Rosewarne, and was followed to the grave by one mourner +only--his epileptic child, Michael. The heir, Nicholas II., had taken the +king's shilling to be quit of his home, and was out in Philadelphia, +fighting under Sir Henry Clinton. He returned in 1780 with a shattered +knee-pan and a young wife he had married abroad. She died within a year +of her arrival at Hall in giving birth to a son, who was christened +Martin. + +The loss of her and the ruinous state of the family finances completely +broke the spirit of this younger Nicholas. He dismissed the servants and +worked in the fields and gardens about his fine house as a common market +gardener. On fair-days at Liskeard or St. Austell the ex-soldier, +prematurely aged, might have been seen in the market-place, standing as +nearly at 'Attention' as his knee-pan allowed beside a specimen apple +tree, which he held to his shoulder like a musket. Thus he kept sentry-go +against hard Fortune--a tall man with a patient face. Thanks to a natural +gift for gardening, and the rare fertility of the slopes below Hall, he +managed to pay interest on the mortgages and support the family at home-- +his sad-browed mother, his brother Michael, and his son Martin. And he +lived to taste his reward, for his son Martin had a financial genius. + +This genius awoke in Martin Rosewarne one Sunday, in his fifteenth year, +as he sat beside his father in the family pew and listened to a dull +sermon on the Parable of the Talents. He was a just child, and he could +not understand the crime of that servant who had hidden his talent in a +napkin. In fault he must be, for the Bible said so. + +The boy spent that afternoon in an apple-loft of the deserted chapel, and +by evening he had hit on a discovery which, new in those days, now informs +the whole of commerce--that it is more profitable to trade on borrowed +capital than upon one's own. + +He put it thus: "Let me, not knowing the meaning of a 'talent,' put it at +100 pounds. Now, if the good and faithful servant adventured five +talents, or 500 pounds, at ten per cent, he made 50 pounds a year. +But if the servant with one talent can borrow four others, he has the same +capital of 500 pounds. Suppose him to borrow at five per cent. and make +ten like the other, he pays 20 pounds profit in interest, and has thirty +per cent, left on the talent he started with." + +"Father," said the boy that night at supper, "what ought the wicked +servant to have done with his talent?" + +"Parson told you that plain enough, if you'd a-been listening." + +"But what do _you_ think?" + +"I don't need to think when the Bible tells me. 'Thou wicked and slothful +servant,' it says, 'thou oughtest to have put my money to the exchangers, +and then I should have received mine own with usury.'" + +"That means he ought to have lent it?" + +"Yes, sure." + +"Well, now," said the boy, nodding, "_I_ think he ought to have borrowed." + +Nicholas stared at his son gloomily. "Setting yourself up agen' the +Scriptures, hey? It's time you were a-bed." + +"But, father."-- + +The ex-soldier seldom gave way to passion, but now he banged his fist down +on the table. "Go to bed!" he shouted. "Talk to _me_ of borrowing! +Don't my shoulders ache wi' the curse of it?" + +Martin took his discovery off and nursed it. By and by another grew out +of it: If the wicked servant be making thirty per cent, against the +other's ten, he can afford for a time to abate some of his profit, lower +his prices, and, by underselling, drive the other out of the market. + +He grew up a tall and taciturn lad, pondering his thoughts while he dug +and planted with his father in the kitchen-gardens. For this from the age +of eighteen he received a small wage, which he carefully put aside. +Then in 1800 his uncle Michael died, and left him a legacy of 50 pounds. +He invested it in the privateering trade, in which the harbour did a brisk +business just then. Three years later his father suffered a stroke of +paralysis--a slight one, but it confined him to his room for some weeks. +Meanwhile, Martin took charge. + +"I've been looking into your accounts," he announced one day, as soon as +his father could bear talking to. + +"Then you've been taking an infernal liberty." + +"I see you've cleared off two of the mortgages--on the home estate here +and the Nanscawne property. You're making, one way and another, close on +500 pounds a year, half of which goes to paying up interest and reducing +the principal by degrees." + +"That's about it." + +"And to my knowledge three of your tenants are making from 200 to 400 +pounds by growing corn, which you might grow yourself. Was ever such +folly? Look at the price corn is making." + +"Look at the labour. How can I afford it?" + +"By borrowing again on the uncumbered property." + +"Your old lidden again? I take my oath I'll never raise a penny on Hall +so long as I live! With blood and sweat I've paid off that mortgage, and +I'll set my curse on you if you renew it when I'm gone." + +"We'll try the other, then. Your father raised 1500 pounds on the +Nanscawne lands, and spent it on cards and ropery. We'll raise the same +money, and double it in three years. If we don't--well, I've made 500 +pounds of my own, and I'll engage to hand you over every farthing of it." + +"Well," his father gave in, "gain or loss, it will fall on you, and pretty +soon. I wasn't built for a long span; my father's sins have made life +bitter to me, and I thank God the end's near. But if you have 500 pounds +to spare, I can't see why you drive me afield to borrow." + +"To teach you a lesson, perhaps. As soon as you're fit for it, we'll +drive over to Damelioc, and have a try with the new owner. He'll jump at +us. The two properties went together once, and when he hears our tale, +he'll say to himself, 'Oho! here's a chance to get 'em together again.' +He'll think, of course, that you are in difficulties. But mind you stand +out, and don't you pay more than five per cent." + +Here it must be explained that the great Damelioc estates, after passing +through several hands, had come in 1801 to an Irishman, a Mr. Eustatius +Burke, who had made no small part of his fortune by voting for the Union. +Mr. Burke, as Martin rightly guessed, would have given something more than +the value of Hall to add it to Damelioc; and so, when Nicholas Rosewarne +drove over and petitioned for a loan of 1500 pounds, he lent with +alacrity. He knew enough of the situation to be thoroughly deceived. +After Nanscawne, he would reach his hand out upon Hall itself. He lent +the sum at five per cent, and dreamed of an early foreclosure. + +Armed with ready money, the two Rosewarnes called in the leases of their +fields, hired labourers, sowed corn, harvested, and sold at war prices. +They bought land--still upon mortgage--on the other side of the harbour, +and at the close of the great year 1812 (when the price of wheat soared +far above 6 pounds a quarter) Nicholas Rosewarne died a moderately rich +man. By this time Martin had started a victualling yard in the town, a +shipbuilding yard, and an emporium near the Barbican, Plymouth, where he +purveyed ships' stores and slop-clothing for merchant seamen. He made +money, too, as agent for most of the smuggling companies along the coast, +although he embarked little of his own wealth in the business, and never +assisted in an actual run of the goods. He had ceased to borrow actively +now, for other people's money came to him unsought, to be used. + +The Rosewarnes, as large employers of labour, paid away considerable sums +weekly in wages. But those were times of paper money. All coin was +scarce, and in some villages a piece of gold would not be seen in a +twelvemonth. Martin and his father paid for labour in part by orders on +their own shops; for the rest, and at first for convenience rather than +profit, they set up a bank and issued their own notes--those for one or +two pounds payable at their own house, and those for larger sums by their +London agent. At first these notes would be cashed at once. By and by +they began to pass as ordinary tender. Before long, people who possessed +a heap of this paper learnt that the Rosewarnes would give them interest +for it as well as for money, and bethought them that, if hoarded, it ran +the risk of robbery, besides being unproductive. Timidly and at long +intervals men came to Martin and asked him to take charge of their wealth. +He agreed, of course. 'Use the money of others' was still his motto. +So Rosewarne's became a deposit bank. + +To the end Nicholas imperfectly understood these operations. By a clause +in his will he begged his son as a favour to pay off every penny of +mortgage money. On the morning after the funeral, Martin stuffed three +stout rolls of bank-notes into his pocket, and rode over to Damelioc. +Mr. Burke had for six years been Lord Killiow, in the peerage of Ireland, +and for two years a Privy Councillor. He received Martin affably. +He recognised that this yeoman-looking fellow had been too clever for him, +and bore no malice. + +"I've a proposition to make to you, Rosewarne," said he, as he signed the +receipts. "You are a vastly clever man, and I judge you to be +trustworthy. For my part, I hate lawyers "-- + +"Amen!" put in Martin. + +"And I thought of asking you to act as my steward at a salary. It won't +take up a great deal of your time," urged his lordship; for Martin had +walked to the long window, and stood there, gazing out over the park, with +his hands clasped beneath his coat-tails. + +"As for that, I've time to spare," answered Martin. "Banking's the +easiest business in the world. When it's hard, it's wrong. But would you +give me a free hand?" + +"I cannot bind my brother Patrick, if that's what you mean. When I'm in +the grave he must act according to his folly. If he chooses to dismiss +you."-- + +"I'll chance that. But you are asking a good deal of me. Your brother is +an incurable gambler. He owes something like 20,000 pounds at this +moment--money borrowed mainly on _post obits_." + +"You are well posted." + +"I have reason to be. Man--my lord, I mean--he will want money, and +what's to prevent me adding Damelioc to Hall, as you would have added Hall +to Damelioc?" + +"There's the boy, Rosewarne. I can tie up the estate on the boy." + +Martin Rosewarne smiled. "Your brother's is a good boy," he said. +"You can tie up the money with him. Or you may make me steward, and I'll +give you my word he shall not be ousted." + +Eustatius, first Lord Killiow, died in 1822, and his brother, Patrick +Henry, succeeded to the title and estates. Martin Rosewarne retained his +stewardship. To be sure he made an obliging steward. He saw that the man +must go his own gait, and also that he was drinking himself to death. +So where a timid treasurer would have closed the purse-strings, he +unloosed them. He cut down timber, he raised mortgages as soon as asked-- +all to hasten the end. Thus encouraged, the second Lord Killiow ran his +constitution to a standstill, and succumbed in 1832. The heir was at that +time an undergraduate at Christchurch, Oxford, and already the author of a +treatise of one hundred and fifty pages on _The Limits of the Human +Intelligence_. On leaving the University he put on a white hat and buff +waistcoat, and made violent speeches against the Reform Bill. Later, he +sobered down into a 'philosophic' Radical; became Commissioner of Works; +married an actress in London, Polly Wilkins by name; and died a year +later, in 1850, at Rome, of malarial fever, leaving no heir. +Lady Killiow--whom we shall meet--buried him decently, and returned to +spend the rest of her days in seclusion at Damelioc, committing all +business to her steward, John Rosewarne. + +For Martin Rosewarne had taken to wife in 1814 a yeoman's daughter from +the Meneage district, west of Falmouth, and the issue of that marriage was +a daughter, who grew up to marry a ship's captain, against her parents' +wishes, and a son, John, whom his father had set himself to train in his +own ideas of business. + +In intellect the boy inherited his father's strength, if something less +than his originality. But in temper, as well as in size of frame and +limb, he threatened at first to be a throw-back to Nicholas, his +great-grandfather of evil memory. All that his father could teach he +learnt aptly. But his passions were his own, and from fifteen to eighteen +a devil seemed to possess the lad. He had no sooner mastered the banking +business than he flatly refused to cross the bank's threshold. For two +years he dissipated all his early promise in hunting, horse-breaking, +wrestling at fairs, prize-fighting, drinking, gaming, sparking. +Then, on a day after a furious quarrel at home, he disappeared, and for +another three years his parents had never a word of him. + +It was rumoured afterwards that he had enlisted, following his +grandfather's example, and had spent at least some part of these +wander-years as private in a West India regiment. At any rate, one fine +morning in 1838 he returned, bringing with him a wife and an infant son, +and it appeared that somehow he had exorcised, or at least chained, his +devil. He settled down quietly at Hall, where meanwhile business had been +prospering, and where now it put forth new vigour. + +It was John who foresaw the decline in agriculture, and turned his +father's attention from wheat-growing to mining. He opened up the granite +and china-clay on the moorland beyond the town, and a railway line to +bring these and other minerals down to the coast. He built ships, and in +times of depression he bought them up, and made them pay good interest on +their low prices. He bought up the sean-boats for miles along the coast, +and took the pilchard-fishery into his hands. Regularly in the early +spring a fleet sailed for the Mediterranean with fish for the Spaniards +and Italians to eat during Lent. Larger ships--tall three-masters--took +emigrants to America, and returned with timber for his building-yards, +mines, and clay-works. The banking business had been sold by his father +not long before the great panic of 1825. + +In this same year 1825 John lost his first wife. After a short interval +he sought and found a second--this time a lady of good family on the +shores of the Tamar. She bore him a daughter, Anne, who grew up to make +an unhappy match, and died untimely. The children at play in the garden +were hers. Her mother survived her five years. + + +As men count prosperity, John Rosewarne had lived prosperously. He had a +philosophy, too, to steel him against the blows of fate, and behind his +philosophy a great natural courage. Nevertheless, as he gazed across his +acres for the last time--knowing well that it might be the last--and +across them to Damelioc, the wider acres of his stewardship, his eyes for +one weak moment grew dim. He had reached the stile at the summit of +Parc-an-hal, and was leaning there, when he felt a cool, damp touch upon +his fingers. The little greyhound, puzzled at his standing there so long +motionless, had reached up on her hind legs, and was licking his hand +affectionately. + +He frowned, pushed her off, and started to descend the hill. Night was +falling fast, with a heavy dew. The children had left their play and +crept to bed. They never sought him to say good-night. + +He returned slowly, leaning on his staff, went to his room, lit the lamp, +and spent a couple of hours with his papers. This had become his nightly +habit of late. + +On Wednesday he arose early, packed a hand-bag, crossed the ferry, and +took train for Plymouth. + + + +CHAPTER III. + + +ROSEWARNE'S PILGRIMAGE. + +From the railway station at Plymouth John Rosewarne walked straight to +Lockyer Street, to a house with a brass plate on the door, and on the +brass plate the name of a physician famous throughout the West of England. + +The doctor had just come to the end of his morning consultations, and +received Rosewarne at once. The pair talked for five minutes on +indifferent matters, then of Paris, and the terrible doings of the +Commune--for this was the month of May 1871. At length Rosewarne stood +up. + +"Best get it over," said he. + +The doctor felt his pulse, took the stethoscope and listened, tapped and +sounded him, back and chest, then listened again. + +"Worse?" asked Rosewarne. + +"It is worse," answered the doctor gravely. + +"I knew it. One or two in my family have died in the same way. The pains +are sharper of late, and more frequent." + +"You keep that little phial handy?" + +Rosewarne showed where it lay, close at hand in his watch-pocket. + +"How long?" he asked. + +"A few months, perhaps." The doctor seemed to hesitate. + +"And you won't answer for _that_?" + +"With care. It is folly for a man like you to be overworking." + +Rosewarne laughed grimly. "You're right there, and I've often enough +asked myself why I do it. To what end, good Lord! But I'm taking no +care, all the same. Good-bye." + +"Good-bye, my friend." The doctor did not remonstrate further. +He knew his man. + +From Lockyer Street Rosewarne walked to his hotel, ordered a beef-steak +and a pint of champagne, and lunched leisurably. Lunch over, he lit a +cigar, and strolled in the direction of the Barbican. The streets were +full of holiday-keepers, and he counted a dozen brakes full of workers +pouring out of town to breathe the air of Dartmoor on this fine afternoon. +He himself was conscious of elation. + +"I'll drink it regularly," he muttered to himself. "It's hard if a man +with maybe a month more to live cannot afford himself champagne." + +The air in Southside Street differed from that of Dartmoor, being stuffy, +not to say malodorous. He rapped on the door of a dingy office, and it +was opened by his son, Mr. Samuel Rosewarne. + +"How d'ye do, Sam?" he nodded, not offering to shake hands. "All alone? +That's right. I hope, by the way, I'm not depriving you of a holiday?" + +"I seldom take a holiday," Mr. Sam answered. + +The old man eyed him ironically. Mr. Sam wore a black suit, with some +show of dingy white shirt-front, relieved by a wisp of black cravat and +two onyx studs. His coat-cuffs were long and frayed, and his elastic-side +boots creaked as he led the way to the office. + +In the office the old man came to business at once. "First of all," said +he, with a nod toward the safe, "I'd like a glance into your books." + +"Certainly, sir," answered Mr. Sam, after a moment's hesitation. +He unlocked the safe. "Do you wish to take the books in order? You will +find it a long business." + +"Man, I don't propose to audit your accounts. If you let me pick and +choose, half an hour will tell me all I want." + +Well knowing that his son detested the smell of tobacco, he pulled out +another cigar and lit it. "You can open the window," said he, "if you +prefer the smell of your street. Is this the pass-book?" + +For about three-quarters of an hour he ransacked the ledgers, tracking +casual entries from one to another apparently at random. His fingers +raced through the pages. Now and again he looked up to put a sharp +question; and paused, drumming on the table while Mr. Sam explained. +Once he said, "Bad debt? Not a bit; the man was right enough, if you had +made inquiries." + +"I _did_ make inquiries." + +"Ay, into his balance. So you pinched him at the wrong moment, and +pinched out ninepence in the pound. Why the devil couldn't you have +learnt something of the _man? He_ was all right. If you'd done that, you +might have recovered every penny, earned his gratitude, and done dashed +good business." + +He shut the ledger with a slam. "Lock 'em up," he commanded, lighting a +fresh cigar, "and come up to the Hoe for a stroll. Where the deuce did +you pick up that hat?" + +"Bankrupt stock." + +"I thought so. Maybe you've invested in a full suit of mourning for _me_, +at the same time?" + +"No, sir." + +"Why not? The books are all right. You've no range. Still, within your +scope you're efficient. You'll get to your goal, such as it is. You wear +a hat that makes me ill, but in some way you and your hat will represent +the survival of the fittest. What's the boy like?" + +"He ails at times, sir--being without a mother's care. I am having him +privately instructed. He has some youthful stirrings toward grace." + +Old Rosewarne swung round at a standstill. "Grace?" he echoed, for the +moment supposing it the name of a girl. Then perceiving his mistake, he +broke out into a short laugh; but the laugh ended bitterly, and his face +twitched with pain. + +"Look here, Sam; I'm going to leave you the money. Don't stare--and +don't, I beg, madden me with your thanks."-- + +"I'm sure, sir."-- + +"You'll get it because I can't help myself. There's your half-sister's +children at home; but of what use to me is a girl or a blind boy? +You are narrow--narrow as the grave: but I find that, like the grave, you +are inevitable; and, like the grave, you keep what you get. For the kind +of finance that was the true game of manhood to your grandfather and me, +you have no capacity whatever. No, I cannot explain. Finance? Why, you +haven't even a _sense_ of it. Yet in a way you are capable. You will +make the money yield interest, and will keep the race going. That is what +I look to--you will keep the race going. Now I want to speak about that +boy of yours. Do me the only favour I have ever asked you--send him to a +public school, and afterwards to college, and let him have his fling." + +Sam thought his father must have gone mad. "What, sir! After all you +have said of such places! 'Dens of idleness,' 'sinks of iniquity'--I have +heard you scores of times!" + +"I spoke as a fool. 'Twas my punishment, perhaps, to believe it; but, +Lord!"--he eyed his son up and down--"to think my punishment should take +this form!" He caught Sam's arm suddenly and wheeled him about in face of +a glass shop-front. "Man, look at yourself! Make the boy something +different from _that!_ Do what I'd have done for you if ever you had +given me a chance. Turn him loose among gentlemen; don't be afraid if he +idles and wastes money; let him riot out his youth if he will--he'll be +learning all the time, learning something you don't know how to teach, and +maybe when his purse is emptied he'll come back to you a gentleman. +I tell you there's no difference in the world like that between a +gentleman and a man who's not a gentleman. Money can't buy it; and, after +the start, money can't change or hide it. The thing is there, or it +isn't." + +"Whatever the thing is," said Sam sullenly, "you are asking me to peril my +son's soul for it." + +They had reached the Hoe by this time. John Rosewarne dropped upon a +bench and sat resting both hands on his staff and gazing over the +twinkling waters of the Sound. + +"Anne married a gentleman," pursued Sam. + +"Ay, and a rake. A-ah!" muttered the old man after a moment, drawing a +long breath, "if only that boy of hers weren't blind! But he doesn't +carry the name, while _you_."--He broke off with a savage laugh. +"What's that you said a moment ago?--something about immortal souls." + +"I said there's a world beyond this, and,"-- + +"Is there? That's what I'm concerned to know just now. And_ you?_ +What are you proposing to do when you get there?" He withdrew his eyes +from the bright seascape and let them travel slowly over his son. "_You!_ +sitting there like a blot on God's sunshine! By what right should you +expect another world, who have cut such a figure in this one? I have +known love and lust, and drink and hard work and hard fighting; I have +been down in the depths, and again I have known moments to make a man +smack his hands together for joy to be alive and doing. But you? +What kind of man are you, you son of mine? What do you live for? Why did +you marry? And what did you and your poor woman find to talk about?" + +Whatever bullying Sam suffered, he had his revenge in this--that he and no +other man could exasperate his father to weakness. He rubbed his thin +side whiskers now and muttered something about 'an acceptable sacrifice.' + +The old man jabbed viciously at the gravel with his staff. "And your +religion?" he broke forth again. "What is it? In some secret way it +satisfies you--but how? I look into the Bible, and I find that the whole +of religion rests on a man's giving himself away to help others. +I don't believe in it myself; I believe in the exact contrary. +Still there the thing is, set out in black and white. It upsets law and +soldiering and nine-tenths of men's doings in trade: to me it's folly; but +so it stands, honest as daylight. When did _you_ help a man down on his +luck? or forgive your debtor? You'll get my money because you never did +aught of the kind. Yet somehow you're a Christian, and prate of your mean +life as an acceptable sacrifice. In my belief you're a Christian +precisely because Christianity--how you work it out I don't know--will +give you a sanction for any dirty trick that comes in your way. When good +feeling, or even common honour, denies you, there's always a text +somewhere to oil your conscience." + +"I've one, sir, on which I can rely--'Be just, and fear not.'" + +"I'll test it. You'll have my money; on which you hardly dared to count, +eh? Be honest." + +"Only on so much of it as is entailed, sir." + +For a while John Rosewarne sat silent, with his eyes on the horizon. + +"That," said he at length, "is just what you could not count on." +He turned and looked Sam squarely in the face. "You were born out of +wedlock, my son." + +Sam's hand gripped the iron arm of the bench. The muscles of his face +scarcely moved, but its sallow tint changed, under his father's eyes, to a +sickly drab. + +"Ay," pursued the old man, "I am sorry for you at this moment; but you +mustn't look for apologies and repentance and that sort of thing. +The fact is, I never could feel about it in that way. I was young and +fairly wild, and it happened. One doesn't think of possible injury to +someone who doesn't yet exist. But that, I grant you, doesn't make it any +the less an injury. Now what have you to say?" + +"The sins of the fathers."-- + +"--Are visited on the children: quite so. Afterwards we did our best, and +married. No one knows; no one has ever guessed; and the proof would be +hard to trace. In case of accident, I give you Port Royal for a clue." + +Sam rose and stood for a moment staring gloomily down on the gravel. +"Why did you tell me, then?" he broke out. "What need was there to tell?" + +His father winced, for the first time. "I see your point. Why didn't I, +you ask, having played the game so far, play it out? Why couldn't I take +my secret with me into the last darkness, and be judged for it--my own +sole sin and complete? Well, but there's the blind child. By law the +house and home estate would he his. I might have kept silence, to be +sure, and let him be robbed; but somehow I couldn't. I've a conscience +somewhere, I suppose." + +"Have you?" Sam flamed out, with sudden spirit. "A nice sort of +conscience it must be! I call it cowardice, this dragging me in to help +you compensate the child. Conscience? If you had one, you wouldn't be +shifting the responsibility on to mine." + +"You are mistaken," said his father calmly. "And by the way, I advise you +not to take that tone with me. It may all be very proper under the +circumstances; but there's the simple fact that I won't stand it. +You're mistaken," he repeated. "I mean to settle the compensation alone, +without consulting you; though, by George! if 'tweren't for pitying the +poor child, I'd like to leave it to you as a religious man, and watch you +developing your reasons for giving him nothing." + +"And it was you," muttered Sam, with a kind of stony wonder, "who advised +me just now to let my son run wild!" + +"I did, and I do." John Rosewarne stood up and gripped his staff. +"By the way, too," he said, "your mother was a good woman." + +"I don't want to hear anything about it." + +"I know; but I wanted to tell you. Good-bye." + +He turned abruptly and went his way down the hill. As he went, his lips +moved. He was talking not to himself, but to an unseen companion-- + +"Mary! Mary!--that this should be the fruit of our sowing!" + + + +CHAPTER IV. + + +ROSEWARNE'S PENANCE. + +Beside the winding Avon above Warwick bridge there stretches a flat +meadow, along the brink of which on a summer evening you may often count a +score of anglers seated and watching their floats; decent citizens of +Warwick, with a sprinkling of redcoats from the garrison. They say that +two-thirds of the Trappist brotherhood are ex-soldiers; and perhaps if we +knew the reason we might also know why angling has a peculiar fascination +for the military. + +Angling was but a pretext, however, with a young corporal of the 6th +Regiment, who sat a few yards away on John Rosewarne's right, and smoked +his pipe, and cast frequent furtive glances, now along the river path, +now back and across the meadow where another path led from the town. +Each of these glances ended in a resentful stare at his too-near +neighbour, who fished on unregarding. + +"Is this a favourite corner of yours?" the corporal asked after a while, +with meaning. + +"I have fished on this exact spot for thirty-five years," answered John +Rosewarne, not lifting his eyes from the float. + +The corporal whistled. "Thirty-five years! It's queer, now, that I never +set eyes on you before--and I come here pretty often." + +Rosewarne let a full minute go by before he answered again. +"There's nothing queer about it, Unless you've been stationed long in +Warwick." + +"Best part of a year." + +"Quite so: I fish in Avon once a year only." + +"Belong to the town?" + +"No; nor within two hundred miles of it." + +"You must think better of the sport than I do, to come all that distance." + +John Rosewarne lifted his eyes for the first time and turned them upon the +young man. + +"_What_ sport?" he asked. + +"Eh? Why, fishing, to be sure. What else?" stammered the corporal, +taken aback. + +"Tut!" said the old man curtly. "Here she comes. Now, what are you going +to do?" + +Without waiting for an answer, he bent his gaze on the float again, and +kept it fastened there, as a pretty shop-girl came strolling along the +river path. She had taken off her hat, of broad-brimmed straw with +artificial poppies and cornflowers, and swung it in her hand as she came. +Her eyes roamed the landscape carelessly, avoiding only that particular +spot where the corporal, as she approached, scrambled to his feet; then, +her start of surprise was admirable. + +"Oh, it's _you!_ Good-evening." + +"Good-evening, miss." + +"Why, whoever--! It seems to me you spend most of your time fishing." + +She paused, gathering in her skirt a little--and this obviously was the +cue for a gallant soldier. The corporal began, indeed, to wind up his +line, but with a foolish grin and a glance at Rosewarne's back. + +"It keeps beautiful weather," he answered at length. + +"_I_ call it sultry." She held out her hat with a little deprecating +laugh. "I took it off for the sake of fresh air," she explained. Then, as +he stood stock-still, a flush crept up her cheek to her pretty forehead. + +"Well, good-evening; I won't interrupt you by talking," she said, and +began to move away. + +Come to think of it, it _do_ look like thunder, "the corporal remarked to +Rosewarne, staring after her and then up at the sky. + +"If you had eyes in your head, you'd have seen that without her telling +you. That cloud yonder has been rising against the wind for an hour. +Look you along the bank, how every man Jack is unjointing his rod and +making for home. Go, and leave me in peace!" + +He did not turn his head even when the corporal, having packed together +his gear, wished him good-night and hurried after the print frock as it +vanished in the twilit shadows. One or two of the departing anglers +paused as they went by to promise him that a storm was imminent and the +fish had ceased feeding. He thanked them, yet sat on--solitary, in the +leaden dusk. + +The scene he had just witnessed--how it called up the irremediable past, +with all the memories which had drawn him hither, summer after summer! +And yet how common it was and minutely unimportant! Nightly by the banks +of Avon couples had been courting--thousands in these thirty-five years-- +each of them dreaming, poor fools, that their moment's passion held the +world in its hands. But the world teemed with rivers ten times lordlier +than Avon--rivers stretching out in an endless map, with bridges on which +lovers met and whispered, with banks down which they went with linked arms +into the shadows-- + + "Were I but young for thee, as I hae been, + We should hae been gallopin' doun in yon green, + And linkin' it owre the lily-white lea-- + And wow gin I were but young for thee!" + +He had been young, and had loved and wronged a woman, and bitterly +repented. He had married her, and marriage had killed neither love nor +remorse. The woman was dead long since: he had married again, but never +forgotten her nor ceased to repent. She, a pretty tradesman's daughter of +Warwick, had collected her savings and taken ship for the West Indies, +trusting to his word, facing a winter's passage in the sole hope that he +would right her. Until the day of embarking she had never seen the sea; +and the sea, after buffeting her to the verge of death, in the end +betrayed her. A gale delayed the ship, and in the height of it her child +was born. Rosewarne, a private soldier, went to his captain, as soon as +she was landed, made a clean breast of it, and married her. But it was +too late. She lived to return with him to England; but he knew well enough +when she died that her sufferings on the passage out, and the abiding +anguish of her shame, had killed her. A common tale! Men and women still +go the way of their instinct, by which the race survives. "All the rivers +run into the sea, and yet the sea is not full. The thing that hath been, +it is that which shall be, and that which is done is that which shall be +done." + +A tale as common as sunset! Yet upon all rivers and upon every bridge and +willow-walk along their courses the indifferent sun shines for each pair +of fools with a difference, lighting their passion with a separate flame. +The woman was dead; and he--he that had been young--sat face to face with +death. + +He leaned forward, oblivious of the clouded dusk, with his half-shut eyes +watching the grey gleam of the river; but his mind's eye saw the shadowy +mead behind him, and a girlish figure crossing it with feet that seemed to +faint, holding her back from doom, yet to be impelled against their will. + +They drew nearer. He heard their step, and faced about with a start. +An actual woman stood there on the river path, most like in the dusk to +that other of thirty-five years ago; but whereas _she_ had worn a print +frock, this one was clad in total black. + +"Mr. Rosewarne,"--she began; but her words came to a halt, checked by a +near flash of lightning and by what it revealed. + +He was in the act of rising--had risen, in fact, on one knee--when a spasm +of pain took him, and his hand went up to his breast. For a moment he +knelt so, turning on her a face of anguish; then sank and dropped in a +heap at her feet. + +Quick as thought she was down on her knees beside him, and, slipping an +arm beneath his head, drew it upon her lap. While with swift fingers she +loosened his collar and neckcloth, a peal of thunder rumbled out, and the +first large raindrops fell splashing on her hand. She recalled that last +gesture of his, and with sudden inspiration searched in his breast-pocket, +found and drew out a small phial, uncorked it, and forced the liquid +between his teeth before they clenched in a second spasm. Two or three +sharp flashes followed the first. In the glare of them her eyes searched +along the river-bank, if haply help might be near; but all the anglers had +departed. Rosewarne's face stared up at her, blue as a dead man's in the +dazzling light. At first it seemed to twitch with each opening of the +heavens; but this must have been a trick of eyesight, for his head lay +quiet against her arm as she raised him a little, shielding him against +the torrential rain which now hissed down, in ten seconds drenching her to +the skin, blotting out river and meadow in a sheet of grey. It forced her +to stoop her shoulders, and, so covering him, she put out a hand and laid +it over his heart. Yes, it beat, though feebly. Once more she picked up +the phial and gave him to drink, and in a little while he stirred feebly +and found his voice. + +"Rain? Is it rain?" he muttered. + +"Yes; but I can spread my skirt over you. It will keep off a little. +Are you better?" + +"Better? Yes, better. Let me feel the rain--it does me good." +He lay silent for a minute or so. "I shall be right again in a few +minutes. Did you find the phial?" + +"Yes." + +"Good girl. It was touch and go." By and by he made a movement to sit +up. "Let us get home quickly. You can throw the rod into the river. +I shan't want it again." + +But she stood up, and, groping for the rod, drew the float ashore, and +untackled it, still in the hissing rain. The storm, after a brief lull, +had redoubled its rage. The darkness opened and shut as with a rapidly +moving slide, the white battlements of Caesar's Tower gleaming and +vanishing above the castle elms, and reappearing while their fierce +candour yet blinded the eye. The thunder-peals, blending, wrapped Warwick +as with one roar of artillery. Rosewarne had risen, and stood panting. +He grasped her shoulder. "Come!" he commanded. The girl, dazzled by the +lightning, puzzled by his sudden renewal of strength, turned and peered at +him. He declined her arm. They walked back across the sodden meadow to +the town, over the roofs of which, as the storm passed away northward, the +lightning yet glimmered at intervals, turning the gaslights to a dirty +orange. + +At the summit of the High Street, hard by the Leycester Hospital, they +came to the doorway of a small shuttered shop, over which by the light of +a street lamp one could read the legend, "J. Marvin, Secondhand +Bookseller." The girl opened the door with a latchkey. An oil lamp burned +in an office at the back of the shop--if that can be spoken of as a +separate room which was, in fact, entirely walled off with books laid flat +and rising in stacks from the floor. The place, in fact, suggested a cave +or den rather than a shop, with stalagmites of piled literature and a +subtle pervading odour of dust and decayed leather. The girl, after +shutting the bolts behind her, led the way cautiously, and, crossing a +passage at the rear of the shop, opened a door upon a far more cheerful +scene. Here, in a neat parlour hung with old prints and mezzotints and +water-colours, a hanging lamp shed its rays on a China bowl heaped with +Warwickshire roses, and on a white cloth and a table spread for supper. + +"H'm!" grunted Rosewarne, glancing in through the doorway, while she lit a +candle for him at the foot of the stairs. "Your father and I used to sup +in the kitchen, with old Selina to wait on us." + +"But since there is no longer any Selina! I had to pension her off, poor +old soul, and she is gone to the almshouse." + +She handed him the light. + +"Now, if you will go up to your room, I will fetch the hot water, and then +you must give me your change of clothes. They shall be warmed for a few +minutes at the kitchen fire, and you shall have them hot-and-hot." + +"It seems to me that while all this is doing, you will stand an excellent +chance of rheumatic fever." + +"Oh, I shall be all right," she announced cheerfully. "No--don't look at +me, please. I know very well that the dye has run out of these crapes, +and my face is beautifully streaked with black! Can you walk upstairs +alone? Very well. And if you feel another attack coming, you are to call +me at once." + +She must have been expeditious; for when he came downstairs again he found +her awaiting him in the parlour, clad in a frock of duffel-grey, which, +with her damp, closely plaited hair, gave her a Quakerish look. Yet the +frock became her; the natural wave of her hair, defying moisture, showed +here and there rebelliously, and her cheeks glowed after a vigorous +towelling. + +Rosewarne drew from under his coat a bottle of champagne, and set it on +the table, where the lamp's ray fell full on its gold foil. Her eyes +opened wide; for he had always visited this house in his oldest clothes +and passed for a poor man. + +"Since you insist upon the parlour," said he, "I must try to live up to +it." He produced a knife from his pocket, with a pair of nippers, and +began to cut the wire. "Why are you wearing grey?" he demanded. + +She flushed. "This is my school frock. I have only one suit of mourning +as yet." + +"And you sent away Selina. You wanted money, I suppose?" + +"No," she answered, after a moment, meeting his eyes frankly; "at least, +not in the way you mean. The doctor's bills were heavy, and for years +father had done business enough to keep the roof over him and no more. +So at first there was--well, a pinch. The books will sell, of course; two +honest men are already bidding for them--one at Birmingham and the other +at Bristol. But meanwhile I must pinch a little or run in debt. +I hate debt." + +"And afterwards?" Rosewarne broke off sharply, with a glance around the +table. "But, excuse me, you have laid for one only." + +"If it is your pleasure, Mr. Rosewarne."-- + +"Say that I claim it as an honour, Miss Hester," he answered, with a +mock-serious bow. + +She laughed, and ran off to the pantry. + +"And afterwards?" he resumed, as they seated themselves. + +"Afterwards? Oh, I go back to the teaching. I like it, you know." + +He brimmed her glass with champagne, then filled his own. "You saved my +life just now, Miss Hester; and life is good to look forward to, even when +a very little remains. I drink to your happiness." + +"Thank you, sir." + +"How old are you?" + +"I shall be twenty-five in August." + +"And how long have you been teaching?" + +"Eight years." + +"Ah! is it eight years since I came and missed you? I remember, the last +time we three supped together--you and your father and I--I remember +taking note of you, and telling myself, 'She will be married before I +return next year.' Why haven't you married?" + +It was the essence of Hester Marvin's charm that she dealt straightly with +all people. + +"It takes two to make even that quarrel," she answered frankly and gaily. +"Will you believe that nobody has ever asked me?" + +"Make light of it if you will, but I bid you to beware. You were a +good-looking missie, and you have grown--yes, one can say it without +making you simper--into a more than good-looking woman. But the days slip +by, child, and your looks will slip away with them. You are wasting your +life in worrying over other folk's children. Those eyes of yours were +meant for children of your own. What's more, you are muddling the world's +work. Which do you teach now--boys or girls?" + +"Girls for the most part; but I have a class of small boys." + +"And what do you teach 'em--I mean, as the first and most important +thing?" + +Hester knit her brows for a moment before answering. "Well, I suppose, to +be honourable to one another and gentle to their sisters." + +"Just so. In other words, you relieve a mother of her proper duty. Who +but a mother ought to teach a boy those things, if he's ever to learn 'em? +That's what I call muddling the world's work. By the time a boy gets to +school he ought to be ripe for a harder lesson, and learn that life's a +fight in which brains and toil bring a man to the top. As for girls, +one-half of present-day teaching is time and money thrown away. Teach +'em to be wives and mothers--to sew and cook."-- + +"Does your supper displease you, Mr. Rosewarne?" + +He set down knife and fork with a comical stare around the board. + +"Eh? No--but did you really--?" + +Their eyes met, and they both broke into a laugh. + +"I should very much like to know," said Hester, resting her elbows on the +table and gazing at him over her folded hands, "if _you_ have treated life +as a fight in which men get the better of their neighbours." + +He eyed her with sudden, sharp suspicion. + +"You have at any rate a woman's curiosity," said he. "When you wrote to +me that your father was dead, but that I might have, for the last time, my +usual lodging here, had you any reason to suppose me a rich man?" + +"I think," answered Hester slowly, after a pause, "that I must have spoken +so as to hurt you somehow. If so, I am sorry; but you must hear now just +why I wrote. I knew that, ever since I was born, and long before, you had +come once a year and lodged here for a night. I knew that you came because +my father was the parish clerk and let you spend the night in St Mary's +Church; and I know that, though he allowed it secretly, you did no harm +there, else he would never have allowed it. Now he is dead, and meanwhile +I keep the keys by the parson's wish until a new parish clerk is +appointed. And so I wrote, thinking to serve you for one year more as my +father had served you for many." + +"I thank you, Miss Hester, and I beg your pardon. Yet there is a question +I need to ask, though you may very properly refuse to answer it. +Beyond my name and address and my yearly visits, what do you know of me?" + +"Nothing at all." + +"You must have wondered why I should do this strange thing, year by year?" + +"To wonder is not to be inquisitive. Of course I have wondered; but I +supposed that you came to strengthen yourself in some purpose, or to keep +alive a memory--of someone dear to you, perhaps. Into what has brought +you to us year after year I have no wish at all to pry. But there is a +look on your face--and when children come to me with that look they are +unhappy with some secret, and want to be understood without having to tell +all particulars. A schoolmistress gets to know that look, and recognises +it sometimes in grown-up folk, even in quite old persons. Yes, and there +is another look on your face. You are not strong enough to go alone to +the church to-night, and you know it." + +"I am going, I tell you." + +He had pushed back his chair, and answered her, after a long pause, during +which he watched her removing the cloth. + +"To-morrow you may have recovered; but to-night you are faint from that +attack. If you really must go, will you not let me go too, and take my +promise neither to look nor to listen?" + +"Get me the key," he commanded, and walked obstinately to the door. +But there his strength betrayed him. He put out a hand against the jamb. +"I am no better than a child," he groaned, and turned weakly to her. +"Come if you will, girl. There is nothing to see, nothing to overhear." + +She fetched cloak and bonnet and found the great keys. He and she stepped +out by a back entrance upon a lane leading to the church. The storm had +passed. Aloft, in a clear space of the sky, the moon rode and a few stars +shone down whitely, as if with freshly washed faces. Hester carried a +dark lantern under her cloak; but, within, the church was light enough for +Rosewarne to grope his way to his accustomed pew. Hester saw him take his +seat there, and choosing a pew at some distance, in the shadow of the +south aisle, dropped on her knees. + +Nothing happened. The tall figure in the chancel sat motionless. +Rosewarne did not even pray--since he did not believe in God. But because +a woman, now long dead, had believed and had implored him to believe also, +that they two might one day meet in heaven, he consecrated this night to +her, sitting in the habitation of her faith, keeping his gaze upon that +spot in the darkness where on a bright Sunday morning a young soldier had +caught sight of her and met her eyes for the first time. Year after year +he had kept this vigil, concentrating his thought upon her and her faith; +but never for an instant had that faith come near to touching him, except +with a sentimental pity which he rejected, despising it; never had he come +near to piercing the well of that mysterious comfort and releasing its +waters. To him the dust of the great dead yonder in the Beauchamp +Chapel--dust of men and women who had died in faith--was dust merely, +arid, unbedewed by any promise of a life beyond. They had played their +parts, and great tombs and canopies covered their final nothingness. +This was the last time he would watch, and to-night he knew there was less +chance than ever of any miracle; for weariness weighed on him, and the +thought of coming annihilation held no terror, but only an invitation to +be at rest. + +From the tower overhead the airy chimes floated over Warwick, beating out +a homely tune to mingle with homely dreams. He sat on, nor stirred. + + +The June dawn broke, with the twittering of birds in the churchyard. +He stood up and stretched himself, with a frown for the painted windows +with their unreal saints and martyrs. His footsteps as he walked down the +aisle did not arouse the girl, who slept in the corner of the pew, with +her loosened hair pencilling, as the dawn touched it, lines of red-gold +light upon the dark panels. Her face was pale, and sleep gave it a +childlike beauty. He understood, as he stooped and touched her shoulder, +why the apparition of her on the river-bank had so startled him. + +"Come, child," he said; "the night is over." + + + +CHAPTER V. + + +THE CLOSE OF A STEWARDSHIP. + +A strange impatience haunted Rosewarne on his homeward journey; an almost +intolerable longing to arrive and get something over--he scarcely knew +what. When at length he stood on the ferry slipway, with but a furlong or +two of water between him and home, the very tranquillity of the scene +irritated him subtly--the slow strength of the evening tide, the few ships +idle at their moorings, the familiar hush of the town resting after its +day's business. He tapped his foot on the cobbles as though this fretful +action could quicken Uncle Nicky Vro, who came rowing across deliberately +as ever, working his boat down the farther shore and then allowing the +tide to slant it upstream to the landing-place. + +"Eh? So 'tis you?" was Nicky's greeting. "Well, and I hope that you've +enjoyed your holiday--not that I know, for my part, what a holiday means." + +"It's time you took one, then," Rosewarne answered. + +The old man chuckled. "Pretty things would happen if I did! 'Took a day +off, one time, to marry my old woman, and another to bury her, and that's +all in five-and-forty year. Not a day's sickness in all that time, thank +the Lord!" + +Rosewarne watched the old fellow's feeble digging stroke. "I preach +capability," he said to himself, "and this is the sort of thing I allow!" +His gaze travelled from the oar to the oarsman. "You're getting past your +work, all the same," he said aloud. "What does it feel like?" + +"Eh?" + +"To give up life little by little. Some men run till they drop--are still +running strong, maybe, when the grave opens at their feet, and in they go. +With you 'tis more like the crumbling of rotten timber; a little dribble +of sawdust day by day to show where the worms are boring. What does it +feel like?" + +"I don't feel it at all," Nicky answered cheerfully. "Folks tell me from +time to time that I'm getting past. My own opinion is, they're in a +greater hurry to get to market than of yore. 'Competition '--that's a cry +sprung up since my young days: it used to be 'Religion,' and 'Nicholas +Vro, be you a saved man?' The ferry must ply, week-day or Sabbath: I put +it to you, What time have I got to be a saved man? The Lord is good, says +I. Now I'll tell you a fancy of mine about Him. One day He'll come down +to the slip calling 'Over!' and whiles I put Him across--scores of times +I've a-seen myself doing it, and 'tis always in the cool of the evening +after a spell of summer weather--He'll speak up like a gentleman, and ask, +'Nicholas Vro, how long have you been a-working this here boat?' +'Lord,' I'll answer, 'for maybe a matter of fifty year, calm or blow, +week-days and Sabbaths alike; and that's the reason your Honour has missed +me up to church, as you may have noticed.' 'You must be middlin' tired of +it,' He'll say: and I shall answer up, 'Lord, if you say so, I don't +contradict 'ee; but 'tis no bad billet for a man given to chat with his +naybours and talk over the latest news and be sociable, and warning to +leave don't come from me.' 'You'd best give me over they oars, all the +same,' He'll say; and with that I shall hand 'em over and be rowed across +to a better world." + +Rosewarne was not listening. "Surely, man, the tide's slack enough by +this time!" he interrupted, his irritation again overcoming him. +"You needn't be fetching across sideways, like a crab." + +Nicky Rested on his oars, and stared at him for a moment. As if Rosewarne +or any man alive could teach _him_ how to pull the ferry! He disdained to +argue. + +"Talking about news," said he, resuming his stroke, "the _Virtuous Lady_ +arrived yesterday, and began to unload this morning. You can see her +top-m'sts down yonder, over the town quay." + +"Has Mrs. Purchase been ashore?" Mrs. Purchase was Rosewarne's only +sister, who had married a merchant skipper and sailed with him ever since +in the _Virtuous Lady_, in which she held a preponderance of the shares. + +"Came ashore this very afternoon in a bonnet as large as St. Paul's, with +two-thirds of a great hummingbird a-top. She's balancing up the freight +accounts at this moment with Peter Benny. Indeed, master, you'll find a +plenty of folk have been inquiring for 'ee. There's the parson for one. +To my knowledge he've been down three times to ask when you'd be back, and +if you'd forgotten the School Managers' meeting, that's fixed for +to-morrow." Uncle Nicky brought his boat at length to shore. +"And there's Aun' Butson in terror that you'll be bringing in some +stranger to teach the children, and at her door half the day listening for +your footstep, to petition 'ee." + +Somehow Rosewarne had promised himself that the restlessness would leave +him as soon as he reached his own side of the water. He stepped ashore +and began to walk up the slipway at a brisk pace; and then on a sudden his +brain harked backward to Uncle Nicky's talk, to which a minute before he +had listened so inattentively. In his hurry he had let an opportunity +pass. The old man had talked of death; had been on the point of saying +something important, perhaps--for all that concerned death and men's views +of death had become important now. He halted and turned irresolutely. +But the moment had gone by. + +"Good-night!" he called back, and resumed his way up the village street. + +Uncle Nicky, bending to replace a worn thole-pin with a new one, dropped +the pair with a clatter. In all his experience Rosewarne had never before +flung him a salutation. + +"And a minute ago trying to tell me how to work the ferry!" the old man +muttered, staring after him. "The man must be ailing." + +As a hunted deer puts the water between him and the hounds, Rosewarne had +hoped to shake off his worry at the ferry-crossing. But no; it dogged him +yet as he mounted the hill. Only, as a dreamer may suffer the horror of +nightmare, yet know all the while that it is a dream, he felt the +impatience and knew it for a vain thing. All his life he had been +hurrying desperately, and all his life the true moments had offered +themselves and been left ungrasped. + +Before the doorway of a cottage halfway up the hill an old woman +waited to intercept him--Aunt Butson, the village schoolmistress. +She was a spinster well over sixty, and lodged with a widow woman, Sarah +Trevarthen, to whom the cottage belonged. + +Rosewarne frowned at the sight of her. She wore her best cap and shawl, +and her cheeks were flushed. Behind her in the doorway sat a young +sailor, with a cage on the ground beside him and a parrot perched on his +forefinger close against his cheek. He glanced up with a shy, very +good-natured smile, touched his forelock to Rosewarne, and went on +whispering to the bird. + +Aunt Butson stepped out into the roadway. "Good-evening, Mr. Rosewarne, +and glad to see you back and in health!" She dropped him a curtsey. +"If you've a minute to spare, sir."-- + +Confound the woman!--he had no minutes to spare. Still frowning, he +looked over her head at the young sailor, Sarah Trevarthen's boy Tom, +home from his Baltic voyage in the _Virtuous Lady_. Yes, it was Tom +Trevarthen, now a man grown. Rosewarne remembered him as a child in +frocks, tumbling about the roadway; as an urchin straddling a stick; as a +lad home (with this same parrot) from his first voyage. Who, in a world +moving at such a pace, could have a minute to spare? + +Aunt Butson had plunged into her petition, and was voluble. It concerned +the new schools, of course. "She had taught reading, writing, and +ciphering for close on forty years. All the children in the village, and +nine-tenths of their parents for that matter, owed their education to her. +A little she could do, too, in navigation--as Mr. Rosewarne well knew: +enough to prepare a lad for schoolmaster Penrose across the water. +Mr. Penrose would rather teach two boys from her school than one from any +other parish. Surely--surely--the new Board wouldn't take the bread out +of an old woman's mouth and drive her to the workhouse? She didn't +believe, as some did, in this new-fangled education, and wouldn't pretend +to. Arithmetic up to practice-sums and good writing and spelling-- +anything up to five syllables--were education enough to her mind for any +child that knew his station in life. The rest of it only bred Radicals. +Still, let her have a trial at least; let them decide to-morrow to give +her a chance; 'twould be no more than neighbourly. Her ways might be +old-fashioned; but she could learn. And with Mrs. Trevarthen to keep the +grand new schoolroom dusted--if they would give her the job--and look +after the fires and lighting."-- + +Rosewarne pretended to listen. The poor soul was inefficient, and he knew +it: beneath all her flow of speech ran an undercurrent of wrath against +the new learning and all its works. Poverty--sheer terror of a dwindling +cupboard and the workhouse to follow--drove her to plead with that which +she hated worse than the plague. He heard, and all the while his mind was +miles away from her petition; for some chance word or words let fall by +her had seemed for an instant to offer him a clue. Somewhere in the past +these words had made part of a phrase or sentence which, could he but find +it again, would resolve all this brooding trouble. He searched his +memory--in vain; the words drew together like dancers in a figure, and +then, on the edge of combining, fell apart and were lost. + +Aloud he kept saying, "You mustn't count on it. Some provision will be +made for you, no doubt--in these days one must march with the times." +This was all the comfort she could win from him, and the poor old creature +gazed after him forlornly when at length he broke from her and went his +way up the hill. + +He reached the entrance-gate. As it clashed behind him, two children at +play in the garden lifted their heads. The girl whispered to the boy, +and the pair stole away out of sight. From the porch the small greyhound +caught sight of him, and, bounding to him, fawned about his feet. +In the counting-house he found his sister closeted with Mr. Benny, and a +pile of bills on the table between. Mrs. Purchase rose and greeted him +with a little pecking kiss. She was a cheerful body, by some five or six +years his junior, with a handsome weather-tanned face, eyes wrinkled at +the corners like a seaman's, and two troubles in the world--the first +being that she had borne no children. She shared her husband's voyaging, +kept the ship's accounts, was known to all on board as "The Bos'un," and +when battened under hatches in foul weather spent her time in trimming the +most wonderful bonnets. Her coquetry stopped short at bonnets. +To-day indeed--the weather being warm--in lieu of bodice she had slipped +on a grey alpaca coat of her husband's. + +"Good-evening, John!" She plunged at once into a narrative of the passage +home--how they had picked up a slant off Heligoland and carried it with +them well past the Wight; how on this side of Portland they had met with +slight and baffling head-winds, and for two days had done little more than +drift with the tides. The vessel was foul with weed, and must go into +dock. "You could graze a cow on her for a fortnight," Mrs. Purchase +declared. "Benny and I have just finished checking the bills. +You'd like to run through them?" + +"Let be," said Rosewarne. "I'll cast an eye over them to-night maybe." +He stepped to the bell-rope and rang for his jug of cider. + +Some touch of fatigue in the movement, some slight greyness in his face, +caught Mrs. Purchase's sisterly eye. + +"It's my belief you're unwell, John." + +"Weary, my dear Hannah--weary; that's all." He turned to the little +clerk. "That will do for to-night, Benny. You can leave all the papers +as they are, just putting these bills together in a heap. Is that the +correspondence? Very well; I'll deal with it." + +"In all my life I never heard you own to feeling tired," persisted Mrs. +Purchase, as Mr. Benny closed the door behind him. "You may take my word +for it, you're unwell; been sleeping in some damp bed, belike." + +Rosewarne moved to the window and gazed out across the garden. +Down by the yew-hedge, where a narrow path of turf wound in and out among +beds of tall Madonna lilies and Canterbury bells, the two children were +playing a solemn game of follow-my-leader, the blind boy close on his +sister's heels, she turning again and again to watch that he came to no +harm. + +"I wonder if that boy could be trained and made fit for something?" mused +Rosewarne aloud. + +"Eh? Is it Clem?" She had followed and stood now by his elbow. +"My dear man, he has the brains of the family! Leave Myra to teach him +for a while. See how she's teaching him now, although she doesn't know +it; and that goes on from morning to night." + +"Where's the use of it? What's a blind man, at the best?" + +"What God means him to be. If God means him to do better--ay, or to see +clearer--than other men, 'tisn't a pair of darkened eyes will prevent it." + +"Woman's argument, Hannah. I take you on your own ground--God could cure +the child's eyes; but God doesn't, you see. On the contrary, God chose to +blind 'em. If I'd your religion, it would teach me that Clem's misfortune +was a punishment designed--the sins of the fathers."-- + +"Ay, you're a hard man, like your father and mine. Haven't I cause to +know it? Hadn't _she_ cause to know it--the mother of that pretty pair?" + +"She made her bed." + +"--And lies in it, poor soul. But I tell you, John, there's a worse +blindness than Clem's, and you and father have suffered from it. +I mean the blindness of thinking you know God's business so much better +than God that you take it out of His hands. 'Punishment,' you say, and +'sins of the fathers'? I'd have you beware how you visit the past on poor +Clem, or happen you may find some day that out of the sins of his fathers +you have chosen your own to lay on him." + +Rosewarne turned on her with a harsh glance of suspicion. No, her eyes +were candid--she had spoken so by chance--she did not guess. + +Had he been blind all his life? It was certain that now at the last his +eyes saw the world differently, and all things in it. Those children +yonder--a hundred times from this window he had watched them at play +without heeding. To-night they moved against the dark yew-hedge like +figures in a toy theatre, withdrawn within a shadowy world of their own, +celebrating a ritual in which he had no concern. The same instant +revealed their beauty and removed them beyond his reach. Did he wish to +make amends? He could not tell. He only knew it was too late. The world +was slipping away from him--these children with it--dissolving into the +shadow that climbed about him. + +Next morning he saddled his horse and rode. His way led him past the new +school-buildings; and he reined up for a minute, while his eyes dwelt on +them with a certain pride. As chairman of the new School Board he had +chosen the architect, supervised the plans, and seen to it that the +contractor used none but the best material. The school would compare with +any in the Duchy, and should have a teacher worthy of it--one to open the +children's eyes and proclaim and inculcate the doctrine of progress. +John Rosewarne was a patriot in his unemotional way. He hated the drift +of the rural population into the towns, foreseeing that it sapped the +strength of England. He despised it too; his own experience telling him +that a countryman might amass wealth if he had brains and used them. +As for the brainless herd, they should be kept on the land at all cost, to +grow strong, breed strong children, and, when the inevitable hour came, be +used as fighters to defend England's wealth. + +He rode on pondering, past uplands where the larks sang and the mowers +whetted their scythes; down between honeysuckle-hedges to a small village +glassing itself in the head waters of a creek, asleep, since all its grown +inhabitants had climbed the hill to toil in the hay-harvest, and silent +but for a few clucking fowls and a murmur of voices within the infants' +school; thence across a bridge, and up and along a winding valley to the +park gates at Damelioc. Beyond these the valley narrowed to a sylvan +gorge, and the speckless carriage-road mounted under forest trees +alongside a river tumbling in miniature cascades, swirling under mossy +footbridges, here and there artfully delayed to form a trout-pool, or as +artfully veiled by thickets of trailing wild roses and Traveller's Joy. +For a mile and more he rode upward under soft green shadows, then lifted +his eyes to wide daylight as the coombe opened suddenly upon a noble +home-park, smooth as a lawn, rising in waves among the folds of the hills +to a high plateau whence Damelioc House looked seaward--a house of wide +prospect and in aspect stately, classical in plan, magnificently filling +the eye with its bold straight lines and ample symmetries prolonged in +terraces and rows of statues interset with pointed yews. + +The mistress of this palace gave him audience as usual in her +blue-and-white morning-room, from the ceiling of which, from the centre of +a painting, "The Nuptials of Venus and Vulcan," her own youthful face +smiled down, her husband having for a whim instructed the painter to +depict the goddess in her likeness. It smiled down now on a little +shrunken lady huddled deep in an easy-chair. Only her dark eyes kept some +of their old expressiveness, and her voice an echo of its old full tone. + +She asked Rosewarne a polite question or two concerning his holiday, and +they fell at once to ordinary talk--of repairs, rents, game, and +live-stock generally, the hiring of a couple of under-keepers, the +likeliest tenant for a park-lodge which had fallen empty; of investments +too, and the money market, since Rosewarne was her man of business as well +as steward. + +Lady Killiow trusted him absolutely; but only because she had long since +proved him. He on his part yielded her the deepest respect, both for her +sagacity in business and for the fine self-command with which she, an +actress of obscure birth, had put the stage behind her, assumed her rank, +and borne it through all these years with something more than adequacy. +John Rosewarne, like a true Briton, venerated rank, and had a Briton's +instinct for the behaviour proper to rank. About his mistress there could +be no question. She was a great lady to the last drop of her blood. + +His devotion to her had a touch of high chivalry. It came of long +service; of pity for her early widowhood, for her childlessness, for the +fate ordaining that all these great possessions must be inherited by +strangers; but most of all it was coloured by a memory of which he had +never dared, and would never dare, to speak. + +He had seen her on the stage. Once, in his wild days, and not long before +he enlisted, he had spent a week in Plymouth, where she was acting, the +one star in a touring company. Night after night she had laid a spell on +him; it was not Rosalind, not Imogen, not Mrs. Haller, not Lady Teazle, +that he watched from the pit; but one divine woman passing from avatar to +avatar. So, when the last night revealed her as Lady Macbeth, as little +could he condemn her of guilt as understand her remorse. He saw her +suffering because for so splendid a creature nothing less could be decreed +by the jealous gods. It tortured him; and when the officer announced her +death, for the moment he could believe no less. 'The queen, my lord, is +dead.' 'She should have died hereafter.' How well he remembered the +words and Macbeth's reply--those two strokes upon the heart, strokes of a +muffled bell following the outcry of women. + +He was no reader of poetry. He had bought the book afterwards, and flung +it away; it tangled him in words, but showed him nothing of the woman he +sought. + +Yet to-day, as he stood before Lady Killiow discussing the petty question +of a lease, the scene and words flashed upon him together, and he grasped +the clue for which his brain had been searching yesterday while he +listened to old Mrs. Butson. It was Lady Killiow who called the lease a +'petty' one, and that word unlocked his memory. "This petty pace-- + + "To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow, + Creeps in this petty pace from day to day, + To the last syllable of recorded time-- + And all our yesterdays have lighted fools + The way to dusty death." + +"I beg your pardon," said Lady Killiow, lifting her eyes to him in some +astonishment--for he had muttered a word or two--and meeting his fixed +stare. "You are not attending, I believe." + +"Excuse me, my lady. It is true that I have not been well of late--and +that reminds me: in case of illness, my son will post down from Plymouth. +He holds himself ready at call. If I may say it, you will find him less +of a fool than he looks." + +Lady Killiow put up her hands with a little laugh, half comfortable, half +wistful. "My good Mr. Rosewarne, I am a very old woman! In a short while +you may do as you like; but until I am gone, please understand that you +cannot possibly fall ill." + +He bowed with a grave smile. Of his mistress's grateful affection he took +away these light words only: but they were enough. + + +He had thought by this visit to Damelioc to lay his demon of restlessness; +had supposed this monthly account of his stewardship, punctually rendered, +to be the business weighing on his mind. But no: as he passed out through +the park gates, the imp perched itself again behind his crupper, urging +him forward, tormenting him with the same vague sense of duty neglected +and clamorous. + +Towards evening it grew so nearly intolerable that he had much ado to sit +patiently and preside at the School Board meeting, convened, as usual, in +the great parlour at Hall. All the Board was there: the Clerk, Mr. Benny, +and the six Managers; two Churchmen, three Dissenters, and himself--a +Gallio with a casting vote. He was used to reflecting cynically that +these opponents trusted him precisely because he cared less than a +tinker's curse for their creeds, and reconciled all religious differences +in a broad, impartial contempt. But to-night, as Parson Endicott +approached the crucial difficulty--the choice of a new teacher--with all +the wariness of a practised committee-man, laying his innocent parallels +and bringing up his guns under cover of a pleasant disavowal to which the +three Dissenters responded with "Hear, hear!" John Rosewarne listened not +at all, nor to the fence of debate that followed as Church and Dissent +grew heated and their friction struck out the familiar sparks-- +'sectarian,' 'undoctrinal,' 'arrogance,' 'broad-mindedness.' At length +came the equally familiar pause, when the exhausted combatants turned by +consent and waited on their chairman. He sat tapping his fingers upon the +polished mahogany, watching the reflected candle-lights along its surface, +wondering when these fretful voices would cease, these warring atoms +release him to obey the summons of his soul--still incomprehensible, still +urgent. + +Their sudden hush recalled him with a start. He had heard nothing of +their debate. Slowly he lifted his eyes and let them rest upon Mr. Benny, +who sat on his right, patiently waiting to take down the next entry for +the minutes. + +"If you will trust me," he said, "I can find you a teacher--a woman--whom +you will all accept." + +He had spoken without premeditation, and paused now, doubtful of the sound +of his own voice. The five Managers were looking at him with respectful +attention. Apparently, then, he was speaking sense; and he spoke on, +still wondering by what will (not his own) the words came. + +"If you leave her and the children alone, I think her religion will not +trouble you. She is accustomed to boys, and teaches them to be honourable +to one another and gentle to their sisters." + +He paused again and drummed with his fingers on the table. He heard the +voices break out again, and gathered that the majority assented. +Mechanically he put the resolution, declared it carried, and closed the +meeting; as mechanically he shook hands with all the Managers and wished +them good-night. "And on your way, Benny, you may tell the maids they may +go to bed. I'll blow out the candles myself." + +When all had taken their leave he sat for a while, still staring at the +reflected lights along the board. Then he arose and passed into his +counting-house, where an oil lamp burned upon his writing-table. + +He took pen and paper and wrote, addressed the letter, sealed it +carefully, and leaned back in his chair, studying the address. + +"There is to-morrow," he muttered. "I can reconsider it before post-time +to-morrow." + +But the restlessness had vanished and left in its stead a deep peace. +If Death waited for him in the next room, he felt that he could go quietly +now and take it by the hand. He remembered the candles still burning +there, and stood up with a slight shiver--a characteristic shake of his +broad shoulders. As he did so his eyes fell again upon the addressed +letter. He turned them slowly to the door--and there, between him and the +lights on the long table, a vision moved towards him--the figure of a girl +dressed all in black. His hand went up to the phial in his breast-pocket, +but paused half-way as he gazed into the face and met her eyes. . . . + + + +CHAPTER VI. + + +THE RAFTERS. + +Two children came stealing downstairs in the early dawn, carrying their +boots in their hands, whispering, lifting their faces as if listening for +some sound to come from the upper floors. But the whole house kept +silence. + +Their plan was to escape by one of the windows on the ground floor. +Tiptoeing along the hall to the door of the great parlour, Myra +noiselessly lifted the latch (all the doors in the house had old-fashioned +latches) and peeped in. The candles on the long table had burned +themselves out, and the shuttered room lay in darkness save for one long +glint of light along the mahogany table-top. It came from the half-open +doorway in the far corner, beyond which, in the counting-house, a ghost of +a flame yet trembled in Rosewarne's lamp. + + +Myra caught at Clem's arm and drew him back into the hall. For the moment +terror overcame her--terror of something sinister within--of their +grandfather sitting there like Giant Pope in the story, waiting to catch +them. She hurried Clem along to the kitchen-passage, which opened out of +the hall at right angles to the front door and close beside it. +The front door had a fanlight through which fell one broken sunray, +filtered to a pale green by the honeysuckle of the porch; and reaching it, +she caught her breath in a new alarm. The bolts were drawn. + +After a furtive glance behind her, she peered more closely, holding Clem +fast by the sleeve. Yes, certainly the bolts were drawn, and the key had +not been turned in the lock. Very cautiously she tried the heavy latch. +The door opened easily--though with a creak that fetched her heart into +her mouth. + +But there was no going back. Whatever might be the explanation of the +unbolted door, they were free now, at large in the dewy morning with the +world at their feet. The brightness of it dazzled Myra. It broke on +Clem's ears with the dinning of innumerable birds. + +They took hands and hurried down the gravel path. Did ever Madonna +lilies, did ever clove carnations smell as did these, lifting their heads +from their morning bath? Yet field challenged garden with the fragrance +of new-mown hay wafted down through the elms from Parc-an-hal, that great +meadow. + +On the low wall by the garden-gate Myra found a seat for Clem, helped him +to lace his boots, and then did on her own. + +"What's the time?" Clem demanded. + +"I don't know, but he'll be coming soon. It can't be four o'clock yet, or +we should hear Jim Tregay knocking about the milk-pails." + +The boy sat silent, nursing his knee, drinking in a thousand scents and +sounds. Myra watched the great humble-bees staggering from flower to +flower, blundering among their dew-filled cups. She drew down a lily-stem +gently, and guided her brother's hand so that it held one heady fellow +imprisoned, buzzing under his palm and tickling it. Clem laughed aloud. + +"Listen!" + +A lad came whistling Up the road from the village. It was Tom Trevarthen, +and the sunshine glinted on his silver earrings. + +"Good-morning, missy! Good-morning, Master Clem! I'm good as my word, +you see; though be sure I never reckoned to find 'ee up and out at this +hour." + +"Myra woke me," said Clem. "I believe she keeps a clock in her head." + +"When I want to wake up at any particular hour, I just do it," Myra +announced calmly. "Have they begun the rafting?" + +"Bless your life, they've been working all night. There's one raft +finished, and the other ought to be ready in a couple or three hours, to +save the tide across the bay." + +"I don't hear them singing." + +"'Tisn't allowed. The Bo--your Aunt Hannah, I mean--says she don't mind +what happens to sea, but she won't have her nights in harbour disturbed. +Old Billy Daddo hadn't laid hands on the first balk before he began to +pipe, 'O for a thousand tongues to sing,' starting on the very first hymn +in the collection like as if he meant to sing right through it. He hadn't +got to 'music in the sinner's ears' before the old woman pushed her face +overside by the starboard cathead, nightcap and all--in that time she must +ha' nipped out of her berth, up the companion, and along the length of the +deck--and says she, 'I ben't no sinner, William Daddo, but a staid woman +that likes her sleep and means to have it.' 'Why, missus,' says Billy, +'you'll surely lev' a man ask a blessing on his labours!' 'Ask quiet +then,' she says, 'or you'll get slops.' Since then they be all as mute as +mice." + +Myra took Clem's hand, and the three hurried down the hill and through the +sleeping village to the ferry-slip, where Tom had a ship's boat ready. +In fifty strokes he brought her alongside the barque where the rafters-- +twenty-five or thirty--were at work, busy as flies. The _Virtuous Lady_ +had been towed up overnight from her first anchorage to a berth under Hall +gardens, and a hatch opened in her bows, through which the long balks of +timber were thrust by the stevedores at work in the hold and received by a +gang outside, who floated them off to be laid raftwise and lashed together +with chains. The sun, already working around to the south, gilded the +barque's top-gallant masts and yards, and flung a stream of gold along the +raft already finished and moored in midstream. But the great hull lay as +yet in the cool shadow of the hillside over which the larks sang. + +Tom Trevarthen found the children a corner on the half-finished raft, out +of the way of the workmen, and a spare tarpaulin to keep their clothes +dry; and there they sat happily, the boy listening and Myra explaining, +until Mrs. Purchase, having slept her sleep and dressed herself (partly), +emerged on deck with a teapot to fill at the cook's galley, and, looking +over the bulwarks, caught sight of them. + +"Hullo! You don't tell me that Susannah,"--this was the housekeeper at +Hall--"allows you abroad at this hour!" + +Now the risk of Susannah's discovering their escape and pursuing was the +one bitter drop in the cup of these truants' happiness. Susannah--a +middle-aged, ill-favoured spinster, daughter of a yeoman-farmer, with +whose second wife she could not agree--scorned the sea and all sailors. +Once, as a girl, she had committed her ample person to a sailing boat, +and, thank God! that one lesson had been enough. Ships came and went +under the windows of Hall, but in the children's eyes they and their crews +belonged to an unknown world. Things real to them were the farm and farm +stock, harvests and harvest-homes, the waggoners' teams, byres, orchards, +garden, and cool dairy. Ships' captains arrived out of fairyland +sometimes, and crossed the straw-littered townplace to hold audience with +their grandfather; magic odours of hemp and pitch, magic chanty songs and +clanking of windlasses called to them up the hill; but until this morning +they had never dared to obey the call. Had Clem been as other boys--. +But, being blind, he trusted to Myra, and Myra was a girl. + +"Come aboard and have a drink of something cordial!" continued Mrs. +Purchase, holding the teapot aloft. She walked forward and looked down on +the workers. "Now you may sing, boys, if't pleases 'ee." + +"Thank'ee, ma'am," answered up Billy Daddo; "then lev' us make a start +with Wrestling Jacob, Part Two--" + + 'Lame as I am, I take the prey'-- + +"'Tis a pleasant old tune and never comes amiss, but for choice o' seasons +give me the dew o' the mornin'." + +He pitched the note in high falsetto, and after a couple of bars five or +six near comrades joined in together-- + + "Speak to me now, for I am weak, + But confident in self-despair: + Speak to my heart, in blessings speak; + Be conquer'd by my instant prayer! + Speak, or thou never hence shall move, + And tell me if thy name is Love." + +Billy Daddo's gang hailed from a parish, three miles up the coast, noted +for containing "but one man that couldn't preach, and that was the +parson." Their fellow-labourers--the crew of the barque and half-a-score +longshoremen belonging to the port--heard without thought of deriding. +Though themselves unconverted--for life in a town, especially in a seaport +town, makes men curious and critical rather than intense, and life in a +ship ruled by Mrs. Purchase did not encourage visionaries--they were +accustomed to the fervours of the redeemed. + + "'Tis Love! 'tis Love! thou diedst for me: + I hear thy whisper in my heart--!" + +"Brayvo! 'tis workin'! 'tis workin'! Give it tongue, brother Langman!" +cried Billy, as a stevedore within the hold broke forth into a stentorian +bass that made the ship rumble-- + + "The morning breaks, the shadows flee, + Pure universal Love thou art: + To me, to me thy bowels move, + Thy nature and thy name is Love!" + +Meanwhile young Tom Trevarthen had brought the children under the vessel's +side, and was helping Clem up the ladder. Mrs. Purchase greeted them with +a kiss apiece, and carried them off to the cabin, where they found Mr. +Purchase eating bread and cream. + +Skipper Purchase, a smart seaman in his day and a first-class navigator, +had for a year or two been gradually weakening in the head; a decline +which his wife noted, though she kept her anxiety to herself. +She foresaw with a pang the end of their voyaging, and watched him +narrowly, having made a compact with herself to interfere before he +imperilled the _Virtuous Lady_. Hitherto, however, his wits had +unfailingly cleared to meet an emergency. While she could count upon +this, she knew herself competent to rule the ship in all ordinary weather. + +"Help yourselves to cream," said Mr. Purchase, after giving them +good-morning. "Clever men tell me there's more nourishment in a pound o' +cream than in an ox. Now that may seem marvellous in your eyes?" +He paused with a wavering, absent-minded smile. "'Tis the most nourishing +food in the animal, vegetable, or mineral kingdoms,--unless you count +parsnips." + +"T'cht!" his wife put in briskly, banging down a couple of clean teacups +on the swing-table. "Children don't want a passel o' science in their +insides. Milk or weak tea, my dears?" + +"I don't know," the skipper went on after another long pause, bringing his +Uncertain eyes to bear on Clem, "if you've ever taken note what +astonishing things folks used to eat in the Bible. There's locusts, and +wild honey, and unleavened bread--I made out a list of oddments one time. +Nebbycannezzar don't count, of course; but Ezekiel took down a whole book +in the shape of a roll." + +Mrs. Purchase signed to Myra to pay no heed, and engaged Clem in a sort of +quick-firing catechism on the cabin fittings, their positions and uses. +The boy, who had been on board but once in his life before, stretched out +a hand and touched each article as she named it. + +"The lamp, now?" + +Clem reached up at once and laid his fingers on it, gently as a butterfly +alights on a flower. + +"How does it swing?" + +"On gimbals." + +"Eh? and what may gimbals be?" + +"There's a ring fastened here,"--the boy's fingers found it--"and swinging +to and fro; and inside the ring is a bar, holding the lamp so that it tips +to and fro crossways to the ring. You weight the bottom of the lamp, and +then it keeps plumb upright however the ship moves." + +"Wunnerful memory you've got, to be sure--and your gran'father tells me +you can't even read!" + +"But he knows his letters," Myra announced proudly; "and when the new +teacher comes he's to go to school with me. Susannah says so." + +"How in the world did you teach'n his letters, child?" + +"I cut them on the match-boarding inside the summer-house, and he traces +them out with his fingers. If you go up you can see for yourself--the +whole lot from A to Ampassy! He never makes a mistake--do you, Clem? +And I've begun to cut out 'Our Father,' but it's slow work." + +"Did ever you hear tell!" Mrs. Purchase turned to her husband, who had +come out of his reverie and sat regarding Clem with something like lively +interest. He had, in fact, opened his mouth to utter a scriptural +quotation, but, checked on the verge of it, dropped back into pensiveness. + +At this point Mrs. Purchase's practised ear told her that the stevedores +were ceasing work, and she bustled up the ladder to summon her crew to +swab decks. The old man, left alone with the children, leaned forward, +jerked a thumb after her, and said impressively, "I named her myself." + +"Who? Aunt Hannah?" stammered Myra, taken aback. + +"No, the ship. I named her after your aunt. 'Who can find a virtuous +woman?' says Solomon. 'I can,' says I; 'and, what's more, I done it: only +I changed the word to lady, as more becoming to one of her haveage. +Proverbs thirty-one, fourteen--turn it up when you get home, and you'll +find these words: 'She is like the merchant ships, she bringeth her food +from afar.'" + +"Uncle," put in Myra breathlessly, "I want you to listen for a moment! +Clem and I have run away this morning, and by this time Susannah will have +found it out and be searching. If she sends down here, couldn't you hide +us--just for a little while? The--the fact is, we've set our hearts on +going with the rafts. There's no danger in this weather, and Tom +Trevarthen has promised to look after us. I don't dare to ask Aunt +Hannah; but if you could have a boat ready just when the rafts are +starting, and hide us somewhere till then."-- + +Mr. Purchase did not seem to hear, but rose and opened a small Dutch +corner-cupboard, inlaid with parrots and tulips, and darkly varnished. +From it he took a large Bible. + +"I'll show you the text I was speaking of." + +"But, uncle."-- + +"They'm washing-down already," said he, lifting his head to the sound of +rushing water on deck. "Your aunt will be back in a moment, and 'tis time +for prayers." + +Sure enough, at that instant the feet and ankles of Mrs. Purchase appeared +on the ladder. "Tide's on the turn," she announced. "Keep your seats, my +dears; the Lord knows there's no room to kneel, and He makes allowance." +She set a small packed basket on the table, and turned to her husband. +"You'll have to pray short, too, if the children are going with the +rafts." + +"Going?--Oh, Aunt Hannah!" + +"Why, I'd a notion you _wanted_ to! To be sure, if I'm wrong, I'm wrong, +and 'tisn' the first time; but young Tom Trevarthen didn' seem to reckon +so. There, get your prayers over and cut along; I'll make it all right +with your grandfather and Susannah." + + +Ah, but it was bliss, and blissful to remember! The rafts dropped down +past the town quay, past the old lock-houses, past the ivied fort at the +harbour's mouth, and out to the open sea that twinkled for leagues under +the faint northerly breeze, dazzling Myra's eyes. Tom Trevarthen grinned +as he tugged at an enormous sweep with two other men, Methodists both, and +sang with them and with Billy Daddo, who steered with another sweep, +rigged aft upon a crutch-- + + "Praise ye the Lord! 'Tis good to raise + Your hearts and voices in His praise."-- + +"Now what should put it in my noddle to take up with that old hemn?" asked +Billy aloud, coming to a halt at the close of the first verse and +scratching his head. "'Tidn' one of my first fav'rites--nothing in it +about the Blood o' the Lamb--an' I can't call to mind havin' pitched it +for years. Well, never mind! The Lord hev done it with some purpose, you +may be sure." + +"I call it a very pretty hymn," said Myra, for he seemed to be addressing +her. "And isn't it reason enough that you're glad to be alive?" + +"But I bain't," Billy argued, shaking his head. "You wouldn' understand +it at your age, missy; but as a saved soul I counts the days. Long after +I was a man grown, the very sound of 'He comes, He comes! the Judge +severe,' or 'Terrible thought, shall I alone,' used to put me all of a +twitter. Now they be but weak meat, is you might say. 'Ah, lovely +appearance of death'--that's more in my line-- + + "Ah, lovely appearance of death! + What sight upon earth is so fair? + Not all the gay pageants that breathe + Can with a dead body compare."-- + +"Don't!" Myra put both hands up to her ears. "Oh, please don't, Mr. +Daddo! And I call it wicked to stand arguing when the Lord, as you say, +put a cheerfuller tune in your head." + +"Well, here goes, then!" Billy resumed "Praise ye the Lord." At the +fifth verse his face began to kindle-- + + "What is the creature's skill or force? + The sprightly man, or warlike horse? + The piercing wit, the active limb, + Are all too mean delights to Him. + But saints are lovely in His sight, + He views His children with delight; + He sees their hope, he knows their fear, + And looks and loves His image there." + +"Ay, now," he broke out, "to think I didn' remember that verse about +children when I started to sing! And 'twas of you, missy, and the young +master here the dear Lord was thinkin' all the time!" + +He dropped his eyes and, leaning back against the handle of the sweep, +suddenly burst into prayer. "Suffer little children, O dear Jesus! suffer +little children. Have mercy on these two tender lambs, and so bring them, +blessed Lord, to Thy fold!" + +As his fervour took hold of him he left the sweep to do its own steering, +and strode up and down the raft, picking his way from balk to balk, +skipping aside now and again as the water rose between them under his +weight and overflowed his shoes. To Myra, unaccustomed to be prayed for +aloud and by name, the whole performance was absurd and embarrassing. +She blushed hotly under the eyes of the other men, and glanced at Clem, +expecting him to be no less perturbed. + +But Clem did not hear. The two children had taken off their boots, and he +sat with the water playing over his naked insteps and his eyes turned +southward to the horizon as if indeed he saw. With his blind gaze +fastened there he seemed to wait patiently until Billy's prayer exhausted +itself and Billy returned to the steering; and then his lips too began to +move, and he broke into a curious song. + +It frightened Myra, who had never heard the like of it; for it had no +words, but was just a sing-song--a chant, low at first, then rising shrill +and clear and strong, and reaching out as though to challenge the waters +twinkling between raft and horizon. Through it there ran a note of high +courage touched with tremulous yearning--yearning to escape yonder and be +free. + +She touched his hand. So well she loved and understood him, that even +this strange outbreak she could interpret, though it caught her at +unawares. For the moment he did not feel the touch; he was far away. +He had forgotten her--alas!--with his blindness. She belonged to his +weakness, not to his strength. For the while he dwelt in the vision of +his true manhood, which only his one infirmity forbade his inheriting; and +she had no place in it. + +He came back to reality with a pitiful break and quaver of the voice, and +turned his eyes helplessly toward her. She answered his gaze timidly, as +though he could see her. She was searching his eyes for tears. But there +was no trace of tears in them. He took the food she handed him from Aunt +Purchase's basket; and, having eaten, laid his head in her lap and fell +asleep. + +Slowly under the noonday heat and through the long afternoon the two rafts +moved across the bay, towing each its boat in which the rafters would +return in the cool of the evening. + + +But the children did not return in them; for on the quay, where the balks +were due, to be warped ashore unlashed and conveyed inland to the mines, +stood Jim Tregay waiting with their grandfather's blood-mare Actress +harnessed in a spring-cart. How came Jim here, at this distance from +home? + +"Been waiting for you these two hours!" he called to the children. +"Jump into the boat there and come ashore. You'm wanted to home, and at +once!" + + + +CHAPTER VII. + + +THE HEIRS OF HALL. + +They landed and clambered into the spring-cart. + +"Nothing wrong at home, I hope?" called Tom Trevarthen from the quay's +edge, as he pushed off to scull back to the raft. + +"Oh, this is Susannah's nonsense, you may be sure!" called back Myra. +"I suppose she carried her tales to grandfather, and he packed you off +after us, Jim Tregay? Well, you needn't look so glum about it. +Aunt Hannah gave us leave, and told Tom to look after us, and we've had a +heavenly day, so Susannah may scold till she's tired." + +"Hold the reins for a moment, Miss Myra, if you please." +Jim left the mare's head and walked down the quay, holding up his hand to +delay the young sailor, who slewed his boat round, and brought her +alongside again. The pair were whispering together. Myra heard a sharp +exclamation, and in a moment Tom Trevarthen was sculling away for dear +life. Jim ran back, jumped into the cart, and took the reins. + +"But what is he shouting?" asked Myra, as the mare's hoofs struck and slid +on the cobbles and the cart seemed to spring forward beneath her. +She clutched her brother as they swayed past mooring-posts, barrels, coils +of rope, and with a wild lurch around the tollman's house at the +quay-head, breasted the steep village street. "What's he shouting?" she +demanded again. + +Jim made no answer, but, letting the reins lie loose, flicked Actress +smartly with the whip. Even a child could tell that no horse ought to be +put at a hill in this fashion. Faces appeared at cottage doors--faces +Myra had never seen in her life--gazing with a look she could not +understand. All the faces, too, seemed to wear this look. + +"What has happened?" + +At the top of the hill, on a smoother road, the mare settled down to a +steady gallop. Jim Tregay turned himself half-about in his seat. + +"From battle and murder and from sudden death--good Lord, deliver us!" + +"Oh, Jim, be kind and tell us!" + +"Your grandfather, missy--the old maister! They found 'en in the +counting-house this mornin' dead as a nail!" + +Myra, with an arm about Clem and her disengaged hand gripping the light +rail of the cart, strove to fix her mind, to bring her brain to work upon +Jim's words. But they seemed to spin past her with the hedgerows and the +rushing wind in her ears. A terrible blow had fallen. Why could she not +feel it? Why did she sit idly wondering, when even a dumb creature like +Actress seemed to understand and put forth all her fleetness? + +"Who sent you for us? Susannah?" + +"Susannah's no better than a daft woman. Peter Benny sent me. +He took down the news to Mrs. Purchase, and she told him where you was +gone. He called out the horse-boat and packed me across the ferry +instanter." + +Myra gazed along the ridge of the mare's back to her heaving shoulders. + +"Clem!" she whispered. + +"Yes," said the boy slowly, "I am trying to understand. Why are we going +so fast?" + +So he too found it difficult. In truth their grandfather had stood +outside their lives, a stern, towering shadow from the touch of which +they crept away to nestle in each other's love. Because his presence +brooded indoors they had never felt happy of the house. Because he +seldom set foot in the garden they had made the garden their playground, +their real nursery; the garden, and on wet days the barn, the hay-lofts, +the apple-lofts, any Alsatia beyond the rules, where they could run free +and lift their voices. He had never been unkind, but merely neglectful, +unsmiling, coldly deterrent, unapproachable. They knew, of course, +that he was great, that grown men and women stood in awe of him. + +When at length Jim Tregay reined up in the roadway above the ferry, they +found a vehicle at a stand there, with a rough-coated grey horse in a +lather of sweat; and peering over the wall from her perch in the +spring-cart, Myra spied Mr. Benny on the slipway below, in converse +with a tall, black-coated man who held by the hand a black-coated boy. +As a child, she naturally let her gaze rest longer on the boy than on the +man; but by and by, as she led Clem down the slipway, she found herself +staring at the two with almost equal distaste. + +Little Mr. Benny ran up the slipway to meet the children. His eyes were +red, and it was with difficulty that he controlled his voice. + +"My dears," he began, taking Myra by the hand and clasping it between his +palms, "my poor dears, a blow indeed! a terrible blow! Your uncle--dear +me, I believe you have never met! Let me present you to your uncle, +Mr. Samuel, and your cousin, Master Calvin Rosewarne. These are the +children, Mr. Samuel--Miss Myra and Master Clem--and, as I was saying, I +sent a trap to fetch them home with all speed." + +The man in black shook hands with the children gloomily. Myra noted that +his whiskers were black and straggling, and that, though his upper lip was +long, it did not hide his prominent yellow teeth. As for the boy, he +shook hands as if Under protest, and fell at once to staring hard at Clem. +He had a pasty-white face, which looked the unhealthier for being +surmounted by a natty velveteen cap with a patent-leather up-and-down +peak, and he wore a black overcoat, like a minister's, knickerbockers, +grey woollen stockings, and spring-side boots, the tags of which he had +neglected to turn in. + +"You sent for them?" asked Mr. Samuel sourly as he shook hands, turning a +fishy eye upon Mr. Benny. "Why did you send for them?" + +"Eh?" stammered Mr. Benny. "Their poor grandfather, Mr. Samuel! I could +not have forgiven myself. It was, after telegraphing to you, my first +thought." + +"I can't see with what object you sent for them," persisted Mr. Samuel, +and pulled at his ragged whiskers. "Were they--er--away on a visit? +staying with friends? If so, I should have thought they were much better +left till after the funeral." + +He shifted his gaze from Mr. Benny and fixed it on Myra, who flushed +hotly. What right had this Mr. Samuel to be interfering and taking +charge? + +"We were not staying with friends," she answered, "or paying any visit. +Clem and I have never slept away from home in our lives. We have been +across the bay with the rafts--that's all; and Aunt Hannah gave Us leave." + +He ignored her display of temper. "You've been let run wild, you two, I +daresay," he replied, in a tone almost rallying. "I guess you have had +matters pretty much your own way." + +Poor Myra! This was the first whole holiday she and Clem had ever taken. +But how could she tell him? She gulped down her tears--she was glad he +had turned away without perceiving them--clutched Clem's hand in silence, +and followed down to the boat, which Uncle Vro was bringing alongside. + +As the party settled themselves in the sternsheets Master Calvin fixed his +pale, gooseberry-coloured eyes on hers. + +"You needn't show temper," he said slowly, with the air of a young +ruminant animal. + +"I'm not showing temper!" Myra retorted in a tone which certainly belied +her. + +"Yes, you are; and you've told a fib, which only makes things worse." +He smiled complacently at having beaten her in argument, and Myra thought +she had never met such an insufferable boy in her life. + +He transferred his unblinking stare to Clem, and for half a minute took +stock of him silently. "Is he blind," he asked aloud, "or only +pretending?" + +Myra's face flamed now. A little more, and she had boxed his ears; but +she checked herself and, caressing the back of Clem's hand, answered with +grave irony, "He _was_ blind, up to a minute ago; but now, since seeing +you, he prefers to be pretending." + +Master Calvin considered this for almost a minute. "That's rude," he +announced at length decisively. + +But meanwhile other passengers in the boat had found time to get +themselves at loggerheads. + +"Your servant, Master Samuel!" began old Nicky affably, as he fell to his +oars. "I hope I see 'ee well, though 'tis a sad wind that blows 'ee here. +Ay, there's a prophet gone this day from Israel!" + +Mr. Samuel frowned. "Good-evening," he answered coldly, and added, with +an effort to be polite, "I seem to know your face, too." + +"He-he!" Uncle Nicky leaned on his oars with a senile chuckle. +"Know my face, dost-a? Ought to, be sure, for I be the same Nicholas Vro +that ferried 'ee back and forth in the old days afore your father's +stomach soured against 'ee. Dostn't-a mind that evening I put 'ee across +with your trunks for the last time? 'Never take on, Master Sam,' said I-- +for all the parish knew and talked of your differences--'give the old +man time, and you'll be coming home for the Christmas holidays as welcome +as flowers in May.' 'Not me,' says you; 'my father's is a house o' wrath, +and there's no place for me.' A mort o' tide-water have runned up an' +down since you spoke they words; but here be I, Nicholas Vro, takin' 'ee +back home as I promised. Many times I've a-pictered 'ee, hearing you was +grown prosperous and a married man and had took up with religion. +I won't say that years have bettered your appearance; 'tisn't their way. +But I'd ha' picked out your face in a crowd--or your cheeld's, for that +matter. He features you wonderful." + +"I remember you now," said Mr. Sam. "You haven't grown any less talkative +in all these years." He turned to Mr. Benny. "Your telegram was sent off +at nine-forty-five. Was that as early as possible?" + +"I can say 'yes' to that, Mr. Samuel. Of course I had to begin by +quieting the servants--they were scared out of their wits, and it took me +some time to coax them out of their alarm. Then, taking boat, I rowed +down to the post-office, stopping only at the barque yonder, to break the +news to Mrs. Purchase. She put on her bonnet at once and was rowed +ashore. 'Twas from her, too, I learned the whereabouts of Miss Myra and +Master Clem; for up at the house they could not be found, and this had +thrown Miss Susannah into worse hysterics--she could only imagine some new +disaster. At first I was minded to send a boat after them, but by this +time the rafts were a good two miles beyond the harbour, and Mrs. Purchase +said, 'No, they can do no good, poor dears; let them have their few hours' +pleasure.' From the barque I pulled straight to the post-office, and sent +off the telegram, and--dear me, yes--at the same time I posted a letter. +I had found it, ready stamped, lying on the floor by my poor master's +feet. It must have dropped from his hand; no doubt he had just finished +writing it when the end came." + +"But why such a hurry to post it?" + +"It was marked 'Private and Immediate.'" + +"For whom?" + +Mr. Benny hesitated. "You will excuse me, Mr. Samuel."-- + +"Confidential?" + +"As a matter of fact, sir, when Mr. Rosewarne marked his letters so I made +it a rule never to read the address. But this one--coming upon it as I +did--I couldn't help."-- + +"You prefer to keep the address to yourself?" + +"With your leave, sir." + +Mr. Samuel eyed him sharply. "Quite right!" he said curtly, with a glance +at Uncle Vro; but the old man was not listening. + +"Lord! and I mind his second marriage!" he muttered. "A proper lady she +was, from up Tamar-way. He brought her home across water, and that's +unlucky, they say; but he never minded luck. Firm as a nail he ever was, +and put me in mind of the nail in Isaiah: 'As a nail in a sure place I +will fasten him, and they shall hang upon him all the glory of his +father's house, the offspring and the issue, all vessels of small +quantity, from the vessels of cups even to all the vessels of flagons.' +But the offspring and the issue, my dears," he went on, addressing Clem +and Myra, "was but your poor mother. Well-a-well, weak or strong, we go +in our time!" + +As they landed and climbed the hill, Mr. Sam spoke with Peter Benny aside. + +"They may ask about that letter at the inquest. You have thought of the +inquest, of course?" + +"If they do, I must answer them." + +"So far as you know, there was nothing in it to cause strong emotion-- +nothing to account--?" + +"Dear me, no," answered Mr. Benny, staring at him in mild astonishment; +"so far as I know, nothing whatever." + + +After packing Susannah off to her room with a Bible and a smelling-bottle, +Mrs. Purchase had set herself to reduce the household to order. +"'Tisn't in nature to think of death," confessed Martha the dairy-girl, +"when you'm worrited from pillar to post by a woman in creaky boots." + +Above and beside her creaky boots Aunt Hannah had a cheerful, incurable +habit of slamming every door she passed through. It came, she would +explain, of living on shipboard where cabin was divided from cabin either +by a simple curtain or by sliding panels. Be this is it may, she kept the +house of mourning re-echoing that day "like a labouring ship with a cargo +of tinware," to quote Martha again, whose speech derived many forcible +idioms from her father, the mate of a coaster. + +Nevertheless--and although it appeared to induce a steady breeze through +the house, rising to a moderate gale when meals were toward--Aunt Hannah's +presence acted like a tonic on all. She presented to Mr. Sam a +weather-ruddied cheek, receiving his kiss on what, in so round a face as +hers, might pass for the point of the jaw. In saluting Master Calvin she +had perforce to take the offensive, and did so with equal aplomb. +After a rapid survey of some three seconds she picked off his velveteen +cap and kissed him accurately in the centre of the forehead. + +"I meant to do it on the top of his head," she informed Myra later, +"but the ghastly child was smothered in bear's-grease. Lord knows that, +as 'twas, I very nearly slipped in my thumb and kissed _that_, as I've +heard tell that folks do in the witness-box." + +Myra did not understand the allusion; but from the first she divined that +her aunt misliked Master Calvin and found that mislike consolatory. + +"As for these two," the good lady announced, indicating brother and +sister, "I allow to myself they'll be best out of the way till the +funeral. I've been through the clothes-press, and put up their +night-clothes and a few odd items in a hand-bag. 'Siah will be here at +eight-thirty sharp, to take 'em aboard with him. For my part, I reckon to +sleep here to-night and look after things till that fool Susannah comes to +her senses. And as for you, Peter Benny, you'll stay supper, I hope, for +there's supper ready and waiting to be dished--a roast leg of lamb, with +green peas. It puts me in mind of Easter Day," she added inconsequently. +"You may remember, Sam, that your poor father always stickled for a roast +leg of lamb at Easter. He was a good Christian to that extent, I thank +the Lord!" + +"And I thank _you_, ma'am," protested Mr. Benny, "but I couldn't touch a +morsel--indeed I couldn't, though you offer it so kindly." + +"To my knowledge, you've not eaten enough to-day to keep a mouse alive. +Well, if you won't, you won't; but I've been through the garden, and +there's a dish of strawberries to take home to your wife." + + +Mrs. Purchase could not know--good soul--that in removing the two children +to shipboard, to spare them the ugly preparations for the funeral, she was +connecting their grandfather's death in their minds for ever with the most +delightful holiday in life. Yet so it was. Punctually at half-past eight +Mr. Purchase appeared and escorted them on board the _Virtuous Lady_; and +so, out-tired with their long day, drugged and drowsed by strong salt air +and sunshine and the swift homeward drive, they came at nightfall, and as +knights and princesses come in fairy tales, to the palace of enchantment. +As they drew close, its walls towered up terribly and overhung them, +lightless, forbidding; but far aloft the riding-lamp flamed like a star, +and Myra clapped her hands as she reached the deck and peered down +into a marvellous doll's-house fitted with couches, muslin blinds, +and brass-locked cupboards that twinkled in the lamplight. +There was a stateroom, too, with a half-drawn red curtain in place of a +door, and beyond the curtain a glimpse of two beds, one above the other, +with white sheets turned back and ready for the sleepers--at once like and +deliciously unlike the beds at home. The children, having unpacked their +bag and undressed, knelt down side by side as usual in their white +night-rails. But Myra could not pray, although she repeated the words +with Clem. Her eyes wandered among marvels. The lower bed (assigned to +Clem by reason of his blindness) was not only a bed but a chest of +drawers. + + "Gentle Jesus, meek and mild, + Look upon a little child; + Pity my simplicity."-- + +Her fingers felt and tried the brass handles. Yes, a real chest of +drawers! And the washstand folded up in a box, and in place of a chair +was a rack with netting in which to lay their garments for the night! +"God bless dear Clem, and grandfather."--What was she saying? +Their grandfather was dead, and praying for dead people was wicked. +Susannah had once caught her praying for her mother, and had told her that +it was wicked, with a decisiveness that closed all argument. None the +less she had prayed for her mother since then--once or twice, perhaps half +a dozen times--though slily and in a terror of being punished tor it and +sent to hell. "And Susannah, and Martha, and Elizabeth Jane,"--this was +the housemaid--"and Peter Benny, and Jim Tregay, and all kind friends and +relations,"--including Uncle Sam and that odious boy of his? Well, they +might go down in the list; but she wouldn't pretend to like them. + +"Ready, my dears?" asked Uncle Purchase from outside. "Sing out when +you're in bed, and I'll come and dowse the lights." + +He did so, and stood for a moment hesitating, scarcely visible in the +faint radiance cast through the doorway by the lamp in his own cabin. +Maybe the proper thing would be to give them a kiss apiece? He could not +be sure, being a childless man. He ended by saying good-night so gruffly +that Myra fancied he must be in a bad temper. + +"Clem!" she whispered, after lying still for a while, staring into +darkness. "Clem!" + +But Clem was already sound asleep. + +She sighed and turned on her pillow. She had wanted to discuss with him a +thought that vexed her. Did folks love one another when they grew up? +And, if so, how did they manage it, seeing that so few grownups had +anything lovable about them? Clem and she, of course, would go on loving +each other always; but that was different. When one grown-up person died, +were the others really sorry? No one seemed sorry for her grandfather--no +one--except, perhaps, Peter Benny. . . . + + +For two days the children lived an enchanted life, interrupted only by a +visit to Miss de Gruchy, the dressmaker across the water, and by a +miserable two hours in which they were supposed to entertain their Cousin +Calvin, who had been sent to play with them. The boy--he was about a year +older than Myra--greeted them with an air of high importance. + +"I've seen the corp!" he announced in an ogreish whisper. + +Myra had the sense to guess that if she gave any sign of horror he would +only show off the more and tease her. She met him, therefore, on his own +ground. + +"Well, you needn't think _we_ want to, because we don't!" + +"Oh, they'll show it to you before they screw it down. But I saw it +first!" + +For the next forty-eight hours this awful possibility darkened her +delight. For it _was_ a possibility. Grown people did such monstrous +unaccountable things, there was no saying what they might not be up to +next. And here, for once, was an ordeal Clem could not share with her. +He was blind. Alone, if it must be, she must endure it. + +She did not feel safe until the coffin had been actually packed in the +hearse and the long procession started. To her dismay, they had parted +her from Clem. He rode in the first coach beside Aunt Hannah and +_vis-a-vis_ with her Uncle Samuel and Cousin Calvin; she in the second +with Mr. Purchase, Peter Benny, and Mr. Tulse the lawyer, a large-headed, +pallid man, with a strong, clean-shaven face and an air of having attended +so many funerals that he paid this one no particular attention. +His careless gentility obviously impressed Mr. Purchase, who mopped his +forehead at half-minute intervals and as frequently remarked that the day +was hot even for the time of year. Mr. Benny was solicitous to know if +Mr. Tulse preferred the window up or down. Mr. Tulse preferred it down, +and took snuff in such profusion that by and by Myra could not distinguish +the floating particles from the dust which entered from the roadway, +stirred up by the feet of the crowd backing to let the carriages pass. +Myra had never seen, never dreamed of, such a crowd. It lined both sides +of the road almost to the church gate--and from Hall to the church was a +good mile and a half; lines of freemasons with their aprons, lines of +foresters in green sashes, lines of coastguards, of fishermen in blue +jerseys crossed with the black-and-white mourning ribbons of the local +Benevolent Club; here and there groups of staring children, some holding +tightly by their mothers' hands; here and there a belated gig, quartering +to give way or falling back to take up its place in the rear of the line. +The sun beat down on the roof of the coach drawing a powerful odour of +camphor from its cushions. For years after the scent of camphor recalled +all the moving pageant and the figure of Mr. Tulse seated in face of her +and abstractedly taking snuff. But at the time, and until they drew up at +the churchyard gate, she was wondering why the ships in the harbour had +dressed themselves in gay bunting. The flags were all half-masted, of +course; but she had not observed this, nor, if she had, would she have +known the meaning of it. + +In the great family pew she found herself by Clem's side, listening to the +lesson, of which a few words and sentences somehow remained in her memory; +and again, as they trooped out, Clem's hand was in hers. But to the +ceremony she paid little attention. The grave had been dug hard by the +south-east corner of the churchyard, close by a hedge of thorn, on the +farther side of which the ground fell steeply to a narrow coombe. +The bright sun, sinking behind the battlements of the church tower, +flung their shadow so that a part cut across the parson's dazzling +surplice, while a part fell and continued the pattern on the hillside +across the valley. And while the parson recited high over the tower a +lark sang. + +Someone asked her if she wished to look down on the coffin in its bed. +She shrank away, fearing for the moment that the trick of which she had +stood in dread for two days was to be played on her now at the last. + +But the mysterious doings of her elders were not yet at an end, for no +sooner had they reached home again than she and Clem were hustled into the +parlour, to find Mr. Tulse seated at the head of the long table with a +paper in his hand, and Mr. Samuel in a chair by the empty fireplace with +Cousin Calvin beside him. Aunt Hannah disposed herself between the two +children with her back to a window, and Uncle Purchase, having closed the +door with extraordinary caution, dropped upon the edge of a chair and sat +as if ready to jump up at call and expel any intruder. + +Mr. Tulse glanced around with that quiet, well-bred air of his which +seemed to take everything for granted. Having satisfied himself that all +were assembled, he cleared his throat and began to read. His manner and +intonation suggested family prayers; and Myra, not doubting that this must +be some kind of postscript to the burial service for the private +consolation of the family, let her mind wander. The word 'testament' in +the first sentence seemed to make this certain, and the sentence or two +that followed had a polysyllabic vagueness which by habit she connected +with the offices of religion. The strained look on Aunt Hannah's face +drew her attention away from Mr. Tulse and his recital. Her ear had been +caught, too, by a low whining sound in the next room. By and by she heard +him speak her own name--hers and Clem's together--and glanced around +nervously. She had a particular dislike of being prayed for by name. +It made her blush and gave her a curious sinking sensation in the pit of +the stomach. Her eyes, as it happened, came to rest on her Uncle +Samuel's, who withdrew his gaze at once and stared into the fireplace. + +A moment later Mr. Tulse brought his reading to an end. There was a +pause, broken by someone's pushing hack a chair. She gazed around +inquiringly, thinking that this perhaps might be a signal for all to +kneel. + +Her aunt had risen, and stood for a moment with twitching face, +challenging a look from Mr. Samuel, who continued to stare at the shavings +in the fireplace. + +Whatever Mrs. Purchase had on her lips to say to him, she controlled +herself. But she turned upon Myra and Clem, and her eyes filled. + +"My poor dears!" she said, stretching out both hands. "My poor, poor +dears!" + +Myra thought it passing strange that, if she and Clem were to be pitied +for losing their grandfather, Aunt Hannah should have waited till now. +She paid, however, little heed to this, but ran past her aunt's +outstretched arms to the door of the counting-house. Within, on the rug +beside the empty chair, weak with voluntary starvation, lay stretched the +little greyhound, and whined for her master. + + + +BOOK II. + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + + +HESTER ARRIVES. + +Hester Marvin stood on the windy platform gazing after the train. +Her limbs were cramped and stiff after the long night journey; the grey +morning hour discouraged her; and the landscape--a stretch of grey-green +marsh with a horizon-line of slate-roofed cottages terminated by a single +factory chimney--was not one to raise the spirits. Even the breeze +blowing across the marsh had an unfamiliar edge. She felt it, and +shivered. + +She had been the only passenger to alight here from the train, which had +brought her almost all the way from the Midlands; and as it steamed off, +its smoke blown level along the carriage roofs, her gaze followed it +wistfully, almost forlornly, with a sense of lost companionship. +She knew this to be absurd, and yet she felt it. + +Between the chimney and this ridge the train passed out of sight; but +still her gaze followed the long curve of the metals across the marsh. +They stretched away, and with them the country seemed to expand and +flatten itself, yielding to the sky an altogether disproportionate share +of the prospect--at any rate in eyes accustomed to the close elms and +crooked hedgerows of Warwickshire. + +She withdrew her gaze at last, and glancing up the long platform spied her +solitary trunk, as absurdly forlorn as herself. A tall man--the +stationmaster--bent over it, examining the label, and she walked towards +him, glancing up as she passed the station clock. + +"No use your looking at _him_," said the station-master, straightening +himself up in time to observe the glance. "He never kept time yet, and +don't mean to begin. Breaks my heart, he do." + +"How far is it from here to Troy?" + +"Three miles and a half, we reckon it; but you may call it four, counting +the hills." + +"Oh, there are hills, are there?" said Hester, and looking around she +blushed; for indeed the country was hilly on three sides of her and flat +only in the direction whither she had been staring after the train. + +The stationmaster did not observe her confusion. "Were you expecting +anyone to meet you, miss?" he asked. + +"Yes, from Troy. A Mr. Benny--Mr. Peter Benny." She felt for the letter +in her pocket. + +The stationmaster's smile broadened. "Peter Benny? To be sure--a +punctual man, too, but with a terrible long family. And when a man has a +long family, and leaves these little things to 'em--But someone will be +here, miss, sooner or later. And this will be your luggage?" + +"Three miles and a half, you say?--or four at the most?" Hester stood +considering, while her eyes wandered across to a siding beyond the +up-platform, where three men stood in talk before a goods van. +Two of them were porters; the third--a young fellow in blue jersey, blue +cloth trousers, and a peaked cap--was apparently persuading them to open +the van, which they no sooner did than he leapt inside. Hester heard him +calling from within the van and the two porters laughing. "Four miles?" +She turned to the station-master again. "I can walk that easily. +You have a cloak-room, I suppose, where I can leave my trunk?" + +"I'll take it home with me, miss, for safety: that is, if you're really +bent on walking." He jerked his thumb toward a cottage on the slope +behind. "No favour at all. I'm just going back to breakfast, and it +won't take me a minute to fetch out a barrow and run it home. +Whoever comes for your luggage will know where to call. You'd best give +me your handbag too." + +"Thank you, but I can carry that easily." + +"The Bennys always turn up sooner or later," he went on musingly. +"If they miss one train, they catch the next. Really, miss, there's no +occasion to walk. But if you must, and I may make so bold, why not step +over to my house and have a cup of tea before starting? The kettle's on +the boil, and my wife would make you welcome. We've a refreshment-room +here in the station," he added apologetically, "but it don't open till the +nine-twenty-seven." + +Hester thanked him again, but would not accept the invitation. He fetched +the barrow for her trunk, and walked some little distance with her, +wheeling it. Where their ways parted he gave her the minutest directions, +and stood in the middle of the roadway to watch her safely past her first +turning. + +The aspect of the land was strange to her yet, but the stationmaster's +kindness had made it less unhomely. The road ran under the base of a hill +to her left, between it and the marsh. It rose a little before reaching +the line of slate-roofed cottages; and as she mounted this rise the wind +met her more strongly, and with more of that tonic sharpness she had +shrunk from a while ago. It was shrewd, yet she felt that it was also +wholesome. Above the cottage roofs she now perceived many masts of +vessels clustered near the base of the tall chimney. She bent her head +against the breeze. When she raised it again after a short stiff climb, +she looked--and for the first time in her life--upon the open sea. + +It stretched--another straight line--beyond the cottage roofs, in colour a +pale, unvaried grey-blue; and her first sensation was wonder at its bare +simplicity. She rested her bag upon the low hedge, and stood beside it at +gaze, her body bent forward to meet the wind. + +For five minutes and more she stood there, so completely absorbed that the +sound of footsteps on the road drew near and passed her unheard. +A few paces beyond they came to a halt. + +"Begging your pardon, miss, but that bag is heavy for you," said a voice. + +She turned with a start, and, as she did so, was aware of a scent about +her, not strong, but deliciously clean and fragrant. It came from a tuft +of wild thyme on which her palm had been pressing while she leaned. + +"Thank you, it is not heavy," she answered, in some confusion. +"I--I just rested it here while I looked out to sea." + +She knew him at once for the blue-jerseyed young man she had seen in talk +with the porters; and apparently he had prevailed, for he stooped under +the weight of a great burden, in which Hester recognised a blackboard, an +easel, a coloured globe, and sundry articles of school furniture very +cleverly lashed together and slung across his shoulder by a stout cord. +He was smiling, and she smiled too, moved perhaps by the sight of these +familiar objects in a strange land. + +"If you'm bound for Troy, you may so well let me carry it, miss. +There's a terrible steep hill to go up, and a pound or two's weight won't +make no difference to what I got here." + +She had taken up her bag resolutely and was moving on. The young man--it +was most awkward--also moved on, and in step with her. She compressed +her lip, wondering how to hint that she did not desire his company. +A glance told her that he was entirely without guile, that he had made his +offer in mere good-nature. How might she dismiss him and yet avoid +hurting his feelings? + +"They argued me down at the station," he went on. "Would have it the +traps couldn' possibly be in the van. But I wasn't going to have my walk +for nothing if I could help it. 'Give me leave to look,' said I; and I +was right, you see!" + +He nodded his head as triumphantly as his burden allowed. It weighed him +down, and the stoop gave his eyes, when he smiled, an innocent roguish +slant. Hester noted that he wore rings in his brown ears, and somehow +these ornaments made him appear the more boyish. + +"But what are you doing with a blackboard and easel?" she asked. + +"They're for old Mother Butson. She lives with my mother and keeps +school. Tidy little outlay for her, all this parcel! but she must move +with the times, poor soul." + +"Then hers is not a Board School?--since she is buying these things for +herself." + +"Board School? Not a bit of it. You're right there, miss: we're the +Opposition." He laughed, showing two rows of white regular teeth. + +"Are you a teacher too?" + +She had no sooner asked the question than she knew it to be ridiculous. +A teacher, in blue jersey and earrings! He laughed, more merrily than +ever. + +"Me, miss? My name's Trevarthen--Tom Trevarthen: and I'm a seaman; +ordinary till last voyage, but now A.B." He said this with pride: of what +it meant she had not the ghost of a notion. "A man don't need scholarship +in my way o' life; but, being on shore for a spell, you see, miss, +I'm helping the old gal to fight the School Board. 'Tis hard on her, +too." + +"What is hard?" Hester asked, her professional interest aroused. + +"Why, to have the bread taken out of her mouth at her time of life. +She sent in an application, but the Board wouldn't look at it. +Old Rosewarne, they say, had another teacher in his eye, and got her +appointed--some up-country body. Ne'er a man on the Board had the pluck +to say 'Bo' when _he_ opened his mouth." + +"Rosewarne?" Hester came to a halt. + +"That bag is too heavy for you, miss. Hand it over--do'ee now!" + +"Are you talking of Mr. John Rosewarne?" + +"Ay, Rosewarne of Hall--he did it. If you was a friend of his, miss, I +beg your pardon; but a raspin' old tyrant he was. Sing small, you might +be let off and call yourself lucky; stand up to 'en, and he'd have you +down and your face in the dust if it cost a fortune." + +"Wait a moment, please!" Hester commanded, halting for breath. They had +reached a steep hill, and the tall hedgerows shut out the sea; but its far +roar sounded in her ears. She nodded toward the bundle on his shoulders. +"Are those things meant to fight the new schoolmistress?" + +"That's of it. The old woman has pluck enough for a hunderd. But, as I +tell her, she may get the billet now, after all, since the old fellow's +gone, and Mr. Sam--they do say--favours the Dissenters." + +"I don't understand. 'Gone'? Who is gone?" + +"Why, old Rosewarne. Who else?" + +"You are not telling me that Mr. Rosewarne is dead?" + +"Beggin' your pardon, miss--but he's dead, and buried last Saturday. +There! I han't upset you, have I? I took it for certain that everyone +knew. And you seeming an acquaintance of his, and being, so to speak, in +black."-- + +"But I heard from him only last Thursday--less than a week ago!" +Hester's hand went to her pocket. To be sure she possessed, with +Rosewarne's letter, a second from a Mr. Peter Benny, acknowledging her +acceptance of the post, and promising that she should be met on her +arrival, on the day and hour suggested by her. But Mr. Benny's letter had +been cautiously worded, and said nothing of his master's death. + +The young sailor had come to a halt with her, evidently puzzled, and for +the fourth time at least was holding out a hand to relieve her of her bag. + +"No!" she said. "You must walk on, please; I am the new schoolmistress." + +It took him aback, but not in the way she had expected. His face became +grave at once, but still wore its puzzled look, into which by degrees +there crept another look of pity. + +"You can't know what you'm doing then, miss; I'm sure of that. +They haven't told you. She's a very old woman, and 'tis all the bread she +has." + +He stared at her, seeking reassurance. + +"You are certainly right, so far: I have tumbled, it seems, into +mysteries. But for aught I know, I _am_ the new schoolmistress, and we +are enemies, it seems. Now will you walk ahead, or shall I?" + +Still he paused, considering her face. + +"But if you knew what a shame it is!" he stammered. "And you look good, +too!" + +With a movement of the hand she begged him to leave her and walk ahead. +But as she did so she caught sound of hoofs and wheels on the road above. +They drew apart to let the vehicle pass, she to one side of the road, the +young sailor to the other. A light spring-cart came lurching round the +corner; and its driver, glancing from one to the other, drew rein sharply, +dragging the rough-coated cob back with a slither on the splashboard, and +bringing him to a stand between them. + + + +CHAPTER IX. + + +MR. SAMUEL'S POLICY. + +Hester's letter accepting the teachership had put Mr. Sam in something of +a quandary. It came addressed, of course, to his father, and as his +father's heir and executor he had opened it. + +"'Hester Marvin'?" He read the signature and pondered, pulling his ragged +whisker. "So that was the name on the letter you posted?" (No question +had been asked about it at the inquest.) + +"That was the name, sir," said Mr. Benny. + +"Who is she? How did my father come to select her?" + +Mr. Benny had not a notion. + +"By her tone, they must have been pretty well acquainted," continued Mr. +Sam, still pondering. "She signs herself 'Yours very truly,' and hopes he +has been feeling better since his return. You know absolutely nothing +about her?" + +"Absolutely nothing, sir." + +"I wish,"--Mr. Sam began, but checked himself. What he really wished was +that Mr. Benny had used less haste in posting the letter--had intercepted +it, in short. But he did not like to say this aloud. "I wish," he went +on, "I knew exactly what the old man wrote; how far it committed us, +I mean." And by 'us' again, he meant the Board of Managers, upon which he +had no doubt of being elected to replace his father. + +"You may be sure, sir," answered Mr. Benny, "that he made her a definite +offer. My dear master was never one to make two bites of a cherry." + +"Well, we must let her come, and find out, if we can, how far we're +committed. Better write at once and fix a date--say next Thursday. +You needn't say anything about my father's death. Just make it a formal +letter, and sign your own name; you may add 'Clerk of the School Board.'" + +"Can I rightly do that, sir?" Mr. Benny hesitated. + +"Why not? You _are_ the clerk, aren't you? As clerk, you answer her +simply in the way of business. There's no need to call a meeting of the +Board over such a trifle; though, if you wish, I'll explain it personally +to the Managers. We may have a dozen cases like this before we get into +working order--small odds and ends which require, nevertheless, to be +dealt with promptly. We must do what's best, and risk small +irregularities." + +Mr. Benny, not quite convinced, fell to composing his letter. +Mr. Sam leaned back in his chair and mused, tapping his long teeth with a +paper-knife. He wondered what kind of a woman this Hester Marvin might +be, and of what religious 'persuasion.' In a week or two he would succeed +to his father's place on the Board. There would be no opposition, and it +seemed to him natural and right that there should be none. Was he not by +far the richest man in the parish? Samuel Rosewarne studied his Bible +devoutly; but he did not seek it for anything which might stand in the way +of his own will or his private advantage. When he came upon a text +condemning riches, for instance, or definitely bidding him to forgive a +debtor, he told himself that Christ was speaking figuratively, or was, at +any rate, not to be taken literally, and with that he passed on to +something more comfortable. He did not, of course, really believe this, +but he had to tell himself so; for otherwise he would have to alter his +whole way of life, or confess himself an irreligious man. But he was, on +the contrary, a highly religious man, and he had no disposition to alter +his life. + +He hated the Church of England, too, because he perceived it to be full of +abuses; and he supposed that the best way to counteract these abuses was +to put a spoke in the Church's wheel wherever and whenever he could. +In this he but copied the adversary--Parson Endicott, for example--who +hated Dissent, perceiving that it rested on self-assertiveness, +encouraging unlearned men to be opinionative in error. Perceiving this, +Parson Endicott supposed himself to be combating error by snatching at +every advantage, great or small, which exalted the supremacy of his Church +and left Dissent the worse in any bargain. To neither of these men, both +confident in their 'cause,' did it occur for a moment to leave that cause +to the energy of its own truth. + +The parson, however, was not likely to bring forward an opposition +candidate; for that would conflict with a second principle of conduct, +the principle of siding with the rich on all possible occasions. +By doing this in his small way he furthered at once the cause of stable +government--that is to say, the rule of the poor by the wealthy--and the +cause of his own Church, which (he fully believed) in these times depends +for existence upon mendicancy. Therefore Mr. Samuel would certainly be +elected; and counting on this, he felt sorry to have missed the chance of +giving the teachership, by his casting vote, to one of his own sect--some +broad-minded, undenominational person who would teach the little ones to +abhor all that savoured of popery. To be sure, this Hester Marvin might +be such a person. On the other hand, his father had been capable of +choosing some Jew, Turk, infidel, or heretic, or even papist. It remained +to discover, first, what kind of woman this Hester Marvin might be; and +next, whether or not the terms of her engagement amounted to a contract. + +"By the way," said Mr. Sam, as Mr. Benny sat pursing his lips over the +letter, "you take in a lodger now and then, I believe?" + +"Now and then," Mr. Benny assented, looking up and biting the end of his +quill. He did not understand the drift of the question. "Now and then, +sir," he repeated; "when my wife's health allows." + +"Then add a line, telling her she shall be met at the station, and that +you will put her up." + +"But, Mr. Samuel, I could scarcely bring myself to offer."-- + +"Tut, man; you don't ask her to pay. I'll see to that. Merely say that +you hope she will be your guest until she finds suitable lodgings." + +"That is very kind of you, sir." + +"Not at all." He reached out a hand for Mr. Benny's letter, read it +through, and nodded. "Yes, that will do; seal it up and let it go by next +post. My father had great confidence in you, Benny." + +"He ever did me that great honour, sir." + +"I hope we shall get on together equally well. I daresay we shall." + +"It comforts me to hear you say so, sir. When a man gets up in years-- +with a long family depending on him."-- + +"Of course, if this Miss Marvin should happen to give you further +particulars of my father's offer, so much the better," said Mr. Sam +negligently. + + +As the little man went down the hill toward the ferry he was pounced upon +by Mother Butson, who regularly now watched for him and waylaid him on his +way home. + +"Hold hard, Peter Benny--it's no use your trying to slip by now!" + +"I wasn't, Mrs. Butson; indeed, now, I wasn't!" he protested; though +indeed this waylaying had become a torment to him. + +"Well, and what have they decided?" The poor old soul asked it fiercely, +yet trembled while waiting for his answer, almost hoping that he would +have none. + +Mr. Benny longed to say that nothing was decided; but the letter in his +pocket seemed to be burning against his ribs. He was a truthful man. + +"It don't lie with me, Mrs. Butson; I'm only the clerk, and take my +orders. But I must warn you not to be too hopeful. The person that Mr. +Rosewarne selected will come down and be interviewed. That's only right +and proper." + +All the village knew by this time what had happened at the last Board +meeting. + +"Coming, is she? Then 'tis true what I've heard, that the old varmint +went straight from the meetin' and wrote off to the woman, and that the +hand of God struck 'en dead in his chair. Say what you will,"--the cracked +voice shrilled up triumphantly--"'tis a judgment! What's the woman's +name?" + +"That I'm not allowed to tell you. And look here, Mrs. Butson--you +mustn't use such talk of my poor dead master; indeed you mustn't." +He looked past her appealingly and at Mrs. Trevarthen, who had come to her +doorway to listen. + +"I said what I chose to 'en while he was alive, and I'll say what I choose +now. You was always a poor span'el, Peter Benny; but John Rosewarne never +fo'ced _me_ to lick his boots. 'Poor dead master!'" she mimicked. +"Iss fay!--dead enough now, and poor, he that ground the poor!" +At once she began to fawn. "But Mr. Sam'll see justice done. +You'll speak a word for me to Mr. Sam? He's a professin' Christian, and +like as not when this woman shows herself she'll turn out to be some +red-hot atheist or Jesuit. To bring the like o' they here was just the +dirty trick that old heathen of yours would enjoy. Some blasphemy it must +ha' been, or the hand o' God'd never have struck 'en as it did." + +"Folks are saying," put in Mrs. Trevarthen from the doorway, "that Sall +here ill-wished 'en. But she didn't. 'Twas his own sins compassed his +end. Look to your ways, Peter Benny! Your master was an unbeliever and +an oppressor, and now he's in hell-fire." + +Mr. Benny put his hands to his ears and ran from these terrible women. +For the moment they had both believed what they said, and yet old +Rosewarne's belief or unbelief had nothing to do with their hatred. +They gloated because he had been removed in the act of doing that which +would certainly impoverish them. They, neither less nor more than Mr. Sam +and Parson Endicott, made identical the will of God with their own wants. + +Peter Benny as he crossed the ferry would have been uneasier and unhappier +had he understood Mr. Sam's parting words. He had not understood them +because he had never laid a scheme against man, woman, or child in his +life. Still he was uneasy and unhappy enough: first, because it hurt him +that anyone should speak as these old women had spoken of his dead master; +next, because he really felt sorry for them, and was carrying a letter to +their hurt; again because, in spite of Mr. Sam's reassuring words, he +could not shake off a sense of having exceeded his duties by signing that +letter without consulting the Board; and lastly, because in his confusion +he had forgotten his wife's state of health, and must break to the poor +woman, just arisen from bed and nursing a three-weeks'-old baby, that he +had invited a lodger. Now that he came to think of it, there was not a +spare bedroom in the house! + + + +CHAPTER X. + + +NUNCEY. + +The driver of the spring-cart was a brown-skinned, bright-eyed, +and exceedingly pretty damsel of eighteen or twenty, in a pink print +frock with a large crimson rose pinned in its bodice, and a pink +sun-bonnet, under the pent of which her dark hair curtained her +temples in two ample rippling bands. + +"Why, hullo!" She reined up. Hester and the young sailor had fallen +apart to let her pass, and from her perch she stared down from one +side of the road to the other with a puzzled, jolly smile. +"Mornin', Tom!" + +"Mornin', Nuncey!" + +"Sakes alive! What be carryin' there 'pon your back?" + +"School furnitcher." + +The girl's eyes wandered from the bundle to Hester, and grew wide +with surmise. + +"You don't mean to tell me you're the new schoolmistress!" + +"Yes, I'm Hester Marvin." + +"And I pictered 'ee a frump! But, my dear soul," she asked with +sudden solemnity, "what makes 'ee do it?" + +"Do what?" + +"Why, teach school? I al'ays reckoned that a trade for old persons-- +toteling poor bodies, 'most past any use except to worrit the +children." + +"And so 'tis," put in the young sailor angrily. + +"Han't been crossed in love, have 'ee? But there! what be I clackin' +about, when better fit I was askin' your pardon for bein' so late? +I'm sent to fetch you over to Troy. Ought to have been here more'n a +half-hour ago; but when you've five children to wash an' dress an' get +breakfast for an' see their boots is shined, and after that to catch the +hoss and put'n to cart--well, you'll have to forgive it. That's your +luggage Tom's carryin', I s'pose?--and a funny passel of traps school +teachers travel with, I will say. You must be clever, though; else +you couldn't have coaxed Tom Trevarthen to shoulder such a load. +He wouldn't lift his little finger for _me_." She shot this +unrighteous shaft with a mischievous side-glance, and laughed. +She had beautiful teeth, and laughing became her mightily. + +"But that is not my luggage." + +"Not your luggage! Then where--Hullo! have you two been quarrellin'? +Well, I never! You can't have lost much time about it." + +"I left my trunk at the station," Hester went on, flushing yet redder +with annoyance. + +"And this here belongs to Mother Butson," declared Tom Trevarthen, +red also. "I'm fetchin' it home for her." + +"Then take and pitch it into the tail of the trap; and you, my dear, +hand up your bag and climb up alongside o' me. We'll drive back to +station, fetch your trunk, and be back in time to overtake Tom at the +top o' the hill and give him a lift home. There's plenty room for +three on the seat--that is, by squeezin' a bit." + +"You're very kind, Nuncey," said Tom Trevarthen sullenly. "But I'll +not take a lift alongside o' _she_; and I'll not trouble you with my +load, neither." + +"Please yourself, you foolish mortal, you. But--I declare! You +_must_ have had a tiff!" + +"No tiff at all," corrected Tom, sturdily wrathful. "It's despise +her I do--comin' here and drivin' an old 'ooman to the workhouse!" + +He turned on his heel and trudged away stubbornly up the hill. + +Nuncey gazed back at him for a moment over her shoulder. + +"Never saw Tom in such a tear in all my life," she commented +cheerfully. "Take 'en all the week round, you couldn't find a +better-natered boy. Well, jump up, my dear, and we'll fit and get +your trunk. He may be cured of his sulks by time we overtake 'en." + +Undoubtedly Hester had excuses enough for feeling hurt and annoyed; +yet what mainly hurt and annoyed her (though she would not confess +it) was that this sailor and this girl had each taken her as one on +equal terms with themselves. She was a sensible girl, by far too +sensible to nurse on second thoughts a conceit that she was their +superior simply because she spoke better English. Yet habit had +taught her to expect some degree of deference from those who spoke +incorrectly; and we are all touchier upon our vaguely reasoned claims +than upon those of which we have perfect assurance. + +"J'p, Pleasant!" Nuncey called to the grey horse, flicking him +lightly with the whip. The ill-balanced trap seesawed down the +slope, and soon was spinning along the cliff-road, across which the +wind blew with such force that Hester caught at her hat. + +"Never mind a bit of breeze, my dear. And as for the touch of damp, +'tis nobbut the pride o' the mornin'. All for heat and pilchar's, as +the saying is: we shall have it broiling hot afore noon. Now I come +to think of it, 'tis high time we made our introductions. I'm Nuncey +Benny--that's short for Annunciation. This here hoss and trap belongs +to my mother. She's a regrater when in health; but there's a baby +come. That makes eleven of us. You'll find us a houseful." + +"Your father was kind enough to offer me,"--began Hester. + +"Iss," broke in Nuncey; "father's kind, whatever else he may be. As +for considerin' where to stow you, that never crossed his head. You +mustn't think, my dear, that you bain't welcome. Only--well, I may +so well get it over soon as late--you'll have to put up with a bed in +the room with me. Shall you mind?" + +"Of course I shall not mind," said Hester, conquered at once. + +"Well, that's uncommon nice of you; and I don't mind tellin' 'ee 'tis +the second load you've a-lifted off my mind. For, to start with, I +made sure you was goin' to be a frump." + +"But why?" + +Nuncey had no time to explain, for they were now arrived at the +stationmaster's cottage. The station-master himself welcomed them at +the door, wiping his mouth. + +"You'll step in and have a dish of tea, the both of you. It'll take +off the edge of the mornin'." + +Nuncey declined, after a glance at Hester, and at once fell to +discussing the weather with the station-master while he hoisted in +the trunk. Two of Hester's earliest discoveries in this strange land +were that everyone talked about the weather, and everyone addressed +everyone else as 'My dear.' + +"Well, so long!" said the stationmaster. "Wind's going round wi' the +sun, I see, same as yesterday. We're in for a hot spell, you mark my +words." + +"So long!" Nuncey shook the reins, and they started again. "Is that +how sleeves are wearin', up the country?" she asked, after two or +three glances at Hester's jacket. + +"They are worn fuller than this, mostly," Hester answered gravely. +"But you mustn't take me for an authority." + +"I can see so far into a brick wall as most. Don't tell me! You're +one to think twice about your clothes, for all you look so modest. +Boots like yours cost more than I can spend on mine in a month o' +Sundays; iss, and a trifle o' vanity thrown in. You've a very pretty +foot--an' I like your face--an' your way o' dressin', if you weren't +so sad-coloured. What's that for, makin' so bold?" + +"It's for my father." + +"There now, I'm sorry!--Always was a clumsy fool, and always will be. +I thought it might be for old Rosewarne, you bein' hand-in-glove with +him." + +"But I scarcely knew him. It was only just now I heard the news."-- +Hester broke off, colouring again with annoyance. What did these +people mean, that they persisted in taking for granted her complicity +in some mysterious plot? + +By and by, at the top of the hill, they overtook the young sailor. + +"Got over your sulks, Tom?" inquired Nuncey cheerfully. "If so, +climb up and be sociable--there's plenty room." + +But Tom shook his head without answering, though he drew close to the +hedge to let the trap pass. It is difficult to look dignified with a +blackboard, an easel, and a coloured globe on one's back. The globe +absurdly reminded Hester of a picture of Atlas in one of her +schoolbooks, and she could not help a smile. A moment later she +would have given all her pocket-money to recall that smile, for he +had glanced up, glowering, and observed it. + +Nuncey laughed outright. + +"But all the same," she remarked meditatively as they drove on, +"I like the lad for't. 'Tisn' everyone would do so much for the sake +of an old 'ooman that never has a good word to fling at nobody, and +maybe spanked 'en blue when he was a tacker and went to school wi' +her. He's terrible simple; and decent, too, for a sailor. I reckon +there's a many think Mother Butson hardly used that wouldn't crack their +backs for her as he's a-doing." + +"He spoke to me," said Hester, "quite as if I were doing a wickedness +in coming--as if, at least, I were selfish and unjust. And I never +heard of this Mother Butson till half an hour ago! Do _you_ think +I'm unjust?" + +"Well," Nuncey answered judiciously, "if any person had asked me that +an hour ago, I'd have agreed with Tom. But 'tis different now I've +seen your face." + + +Nuncey and the stationmaster were wise weather prophets. Here on the +uplands the grey veil of morning fell apart, and dissolved so +suddenly that before Hester had time to wonder the miracle was +accomplished. A flood of sunshine broke over the ripening cornfields +to right and left; the song of larks rang forth almost with a shout; +beyond the golden ridges of the wheat the grey vapour faded as breath +off a mirror, and lo! a clear line divided the turquoise sky from a +sea of intensest iris-blue. As she watched the transformation her +heart gave a lift, and the past few hours fell from her like an evil +dream. The stuffy compartment, the blear-eyed lamp, the train's roar +and rattle, the forlorn arrival on the windy platform--all slipped away +into a remote past. She had passed the gates of fear and entered an +enchanted land. + +As she looked abroad upon it she marvelled at a hundred differences +between it and her native Midlands. It was wilder--infinitely +wilder--than Warwickshire, and at the same time less unkempt; far +more savage in outline, yet in detail sober almost to tidiness. It +seemed to acknowledge the hand of some great unknown gardener; and +this gardener was, of course, the sea-breeze now filling her lungs +and bracing her strength. The shaven, landward-bending thorns and +hollies, the close-trimmed hedgerow, the clean-swept highroad, alike +proclaimed its tireless attentions. It favoured its own plants, +too--the tamarisk on the hedge, the fuchsia and myrtle in the cottage +garden. As the spring-cart nid-nodded down the hill towards Troy, +the grey roofs of the town broke upon Hester's sight beyond a cloud +of fuchsia blossoms in a garden at the angle of the road. + +So steep was the hill, and so closely these roofs and chimneys +huddled against it, that Hester leaned back with a catch of the +breath that set Nuncey laughing. For the moment she verily supposed +herself on the edge of a precipice. She caught one glimpse of a blue +water and the masts of shipping, and clutched at the cart-rail as the +old grey began to slither at a businesslike jog-trot down a street so +narrow that, to make way for them, passers-by on foot ran hastily to +the nearest doorways, whence one and all nodded good-naturedly at +Nuncey. Of some houses the doors were reached by steep flights of +steps tunnelled through the solid rock; of others by wooden stairways +leading to balconies painted blue or green and adorned with +pot-plants--geraniums, fuchsias, lemon-verbenas--on ledges imminent over +Hester's head. The most of the passers-by were women carrying pails +of water, or country folks with baskets of market stuff. The whole +street seemed to be cleaning up and taking in provisions for the day, +and all amid a buzz of public gossip, one housewife pausing on her +balcony as she shook a duster, and leaning over to discuss market +prices with her neighbour chaffering below. The cross-fire of talk +died down as the dealers dispersed, snatching up their wares from +under the wheels of the spring-cart, while the women took long, +silent stock of Hester's appearance and dress. Behind her it broke +forth again, louder than ever. + +At the foot of the hill they swung round a corner, and passing a +public-house and the rails of the parish church, threaded their way +round two more corners, and entered a street scarcely less narrow +than the other, but level. Here Nuncey drew up before an ope through +which Hester caught another glimpse of blue-green water. They had +arrived. + +A grinning lad lifted out Hester's trunk and bore it down the ope to +a green-painted doorway, where a rosy-faced, extremely solemn child +stared out on the world over a green-painted board, fixed across with +the evident purpose of confining him to the house. Having despatched +this urchin to warn his mother that 'the furriner was come,' the lad +heaved his burden over the board, dumped it down inside with a bang, +and returned, still grinning amiably, to take charge of horse and +cart. + +"If you want to know t'other from which in our family," said Nuncey, +"there's nothing like beginning early. This is Shake." + +"I beg your pardon?" + +"Father had him christened Shakespeare, but we call him Shake for +short. It sounds more natural, somehow. And this here is Robert +Burns," she went on, leading the way to the green-painted doorway +where the small urchin had resumed his survey of the world beyond +home. "That's another of father's inventions; but the poor cheeld +pulled down the kettle when he was eighteen months old and scalded +hisself all over, so he's gone by his full name ever since. Mother!" +Nuncey called aloud, stepping over the barrier. "Here's the new +school-teacher!" + +A middle-aged, fair-haired woman, with a benign but puzzled smile, +appeared in the passage, holding a baby at the breast. + +"You're kindly welcome, my dear; that is, if you'll excuse my hair +being in curl-papers. Dear me, now!" Mrs. Benny regarded Hester with +a look of honest perplexity. "And I was expectin' an older-lookin' +person altogether!" + +Hester followed her into a kitchen which, though untidy and dim, +struck her as more than passably clean; and it crossed her mind at +once that its cleanliness must be due to Nuncey and its untidiness to +Mrs. Benny. The dimness was induced by a crowd of geraniums in the +window and a large bird-cage blocking out the light above them. +A second large bird-cage hung from a rafter in the middle of the +ceiling. + +"And you've been travellin' all night? You must be pinin' for a dish +of tea."-- + +But here a voice screamed out close to Hester's ear-- + +"What's your name? What's your name? Oh, rock and roll me over, +what's your darned name?" + +"Hester Marv--" she had begun to answer in a fright, when Nuncey +broke out laughing. + +"Don't 'ee be afraid of 'en--'tis only the parrot;" and Hester +laughed too, recovering herself at sight of a grey and scarlet bird +eyeing her with angry inquisitiveness from the cage over Mrs. Benny's +head. Her gaze wandered apprehensively to the second cage by the +window. + +"Oh, _he_ won't speak!" Nuncey assured her. "He's only a cat." + +"A cat?" + +"Iss. He ate the last parrot afore this one, and I reckon he died of +it. Father had 'en stuffed and put 'en in the cage instead. Just go +and look for yourself; he's as natural as life." + +"I was thinkin' a ham rasher," suggested Mrs. Benny, with her kindly, +unsettled smile. "Nuncey, will you hold the baby, or shall I?" + +"You give me the frying-pan," commanded Nuncey, turning up her +sleeves. "What's the matter with _you_, Robert Burns? And what's +become of your manners?" she demanded of the urchin who had followed +them in from the passage, and now stood gripping Hester's skirts and +gazing up at her, as she in turn gazed up at the absurd cat in the +parrot's cage. + +"What great eyes she've got!" exclaimed Robert Burns in an +awe-stricken voice. + +"'All the better to see you with,'" quoted Hester, laughing and +looking down on him. + +"That's in _Red Riding Hood_. She knows about stories!" The child +clapped his hands. + +"Well," put in Mrs. Benny, seating herself with a sigh as the ham rasher +began to frizzle, "you may say what you like about education, but mothers +ought to thank the Lord for it. Sometimes, as 'tis, I feel as if the +whole world was on my shoulders, and I can't be responsible for it any +longer; but what would happen if 'twasn't for the school bell at nine +o'clock there's no knowing. You'd like a wash, my dear?" + +"I should indeed," answered Hester. + +"Sometimes I loses count," went on Mrs. Benny, not pursuing her +invitation, but standing with a faraway gaze bent upon the geraniums +in the window; "but there's eleven of 'em, and three buried, and five +at school this moment. I began with two boys--two years between +each--and then came Nuncey. There's four years between her and +Shake, but after that you may allow two years to each again, quite +like Jacob's ladder." + +"Lord bless 'ee, mother!" interrupted Nuncey, glancing up from the +frying-pan, "she don't want to be told I'm singular. She've found +out that already. Here's the kettle boilin'--fit and give her a cup +of tea, and take her upstairs. 'Tis near upon half-past nine +already, and at half-past ten father was to be here to fetch her +across to see Mr. Samuel--though, for my part, I hold 'twould be more +Christian to put her to bed and let her sleep the forenoon out." + + +When Hester descended to breakfast Mr. Benny had already arrived; and +he too could not help showing astonishment at her youthful +appearance. + +"But twenty-five is not so young, after all," she maintained, +laughing. "I feel my years, I assure you. Why are you all in +conspiracy to add to them?" + +"The late Mr. Rosewarne had given us no particulars," began Mr. Benny. + +"He wrote at length to me about the school and his hopes for it." + +"You knew him, then, Miss Marvin?" + +"He was, in a fashion, a friend of my father's. He used to visit us +regularly once a year.--But let me show you his letter." + +"Not on any account!" Mr. Benny put up a flurried hand. "It--it +wouldn't be right." He said it almost sharply. Hester, puzzled to +know what offence she had nearly committed, and in some degree hurt +by his tone, thrust the letter back in her pocket. + + + +CHAPTER XI. + + +HESTER IS ACCEPTED. + +"Well?" Mr. Sam lifted his eyes from his writing-table. + +"Miss Marvin has arrived, sir, and is waiting in the morning-parlour," +Mr. Benny announced. + +"Let her wait a moment. I suppose she takes the line that we've +definitely engaged her?" + +"I don't know, sir, that she takes what you might call a line; but there's +no doubt she believes herself engaged. She talks very frankly, and is +altogether a nice, pleasant-spoken young person." + +"You didn't happen to find out what my father wrote to her?" + +"Of her own accord she offered to show me his letter." + +"Well, and what did it say?" + +"I didn't read it, sir." + +"You didn't read it?" Mr. Sam repeated in slow astonishment. + +"No, sir. I felt it wasn't fair to her," said Mr. Benny. + +His employer regarded him for a moment with sourly meditative eyes. + +"You had best show her in at once," he commanded sharply. + +He reseated himself, and did not rise when Hester entered, but slewed his +chair around, nodded gloomily in response to her slight bow, and, tapping +his knees with a paper-knife, treated her to a long, deliberate stare. + +"Take a seat, please." + +Hester obeyed with a quiet 'Thank you.' + +"You have come, I believe, in answer to a letter of my father's? +Might I ask you what he said, exactly?" + +Hester's hand went towards her pocket, but paused. She had taken an +instant aversion from this man. + +"My father," he went on, noting her hesitation, "has since died suddenly, +as you know. His affairs are in some confusion, of course." +This was untrue, but Mr. Sam had no consciousness of telling a lie. +The phrase was commonly used of dead men's affairs. "In this matter of +your engagement, for instance, I am moving in the dark. I can find no +record of it among his papers." + +"I answered him, sir; but my letter arrived, it seems, after his death. +Mr. Benny replied to it." + +"Yes, to be sure, I saw your letter, but it did not tell me how far the +negotiations had gone." + +"You are one of the Managers, sir?" + +"Well, not precisely; but you will find that makes little difference. +I am to be placed on the Board as my father's successor." + +"The offer was quite definite," said Hester calmly. "I would show you the +letter, but some parts of it are private." + +"Now why in the world was she ready to show it to Benny?" he asked +himself. Aloud he said, "You were a friend, then, of my father's? +Is it for him, may I ask, that you wear mourning?" + +"No, sir; for my own father. Mr. Rosewarne and he were friends--oh, for +many years. I asked about it once, when I was quite a girl, and why +Mr. Rosewarne came to visit us once every year as he did. My father told +me that it had begun in a quarrel, when they were young men; it may have +been when my father served in the army, in the barracks at Warwick. +I don't remember that he said so, yet somehow I have always had an idea +that the quarrel went back to that time; but he said that they had hated +one another, and made friends after a long time, and that your father had +the most to forgive, being in the wrong. I remember those words, because +they sounded so queer to me and I could not understand them. When I was +eighteen, I went out to get my living, and did not see Mr. Rosewarne for +many years until the other day, though he came regularly." + +"The other day?" Mr. Sam stared at her blankly. + +"On the 5th. Mr. Rosewarne always paid his visit on the 5th of June." + +"I don't understand you in the least. A minute ago you told me that your +father was dead!" + +"Yes; he died almost two months ago. But Mr. Rosewarne wrote and asked +leave to come, since it was for the last time." + +"Your mother entertained him?" + +Hester shook her head. "I have no mother. He came as my guest, and that +evening--for he never spent more than one night with us--we talked for a +long while. He knew, of course, that I was a schoolmistress; and he began +to mock at some things in which I believe very deeply. He did it to try +me, perhaps. I don't know whether he came meaning to try me, or seeing me +alone in the world, and making ready to leave the old home, he suddenly +took this notion into his head. At any rate, I did not guess for a +moment; and when he spoke scorn of girls' teaching, I answered him--too +hotly, I thought at the time; but it seems that he forgave me." +She rose. "I have told you all this, sir, because you say you are in the +dark. I am here because Mr. Rosewarne offered me the post. But you seem +disposed to deny this; and so in fairness I must consult a friend, if I +can find one, or a lawyer perhaps, before showing you the letter." + +"Wait a moment, please." Hester's story had held a light as it were, +though but a faint one, to an unexplored passage in old Rosewarne's life; +and to Mr. Sam every unexplored corner in that life was now to be +suspected. "You jump to conclusions, Miss Marvin. I merely meant to say +that as my father's executor I have to use reasonable caution. +Might I inquire your age? Excuse me, I know that ladies--" + +"I am twenty-five," she struck in sharply. + +"Married, or unmarried?" + +"Unmarried." + +"You will excuse me for saying that I am surprised. A young person of +your attractiveness--" + +"Have you any more questions, sir?" + +"Eh?--ah, to be sure! Qualifications?" + +Hester briefly enumerated these. He did not appear to be listening, but +sat eyeing her abstractedly, while he rattled the point of the paper-knife +between his Upper and lower teeth. + +"Yes, yes--quite satisfactory. Religious views?" + +"I beg your pardon?" + +"Religious views?" + +"If you really think that a necessary question, I was baptised and brought +up in the Church of England." + +"Not a bigoted Churchwoman, I hope?" + +"Not bigoted, I certainly hope," Hester answered demurely. + +"I feel sure of it," said Mr. Sam, rising gallantly. "In the matter of +so-called apostolic succession, for instance--" + +But here there came a tap at the door, and Elizabeth Jane, the housemaid, +announced that Parson Endicott had called. "Show him in," ordered Mr. Sam +promptly, and at the same time--having suddenly made up his mind--he flung +Hester an insufferably confidential glance, which seemed to say, "Never +mind _him_; you and I are in the same boat." + +Parson Endicott suffered from shortness of sight and a high parsonic +manner. He paused on the threshold to wipe his eyeglasses, adjusted them +on his nose, and gazing around the room, cleared his throat as if about to +address a congregation. + +"Good-day, parson." Mr. Sam saluted him amiably, still without rising. +"You've come in the nick of time. I have just been chatting with Miss +Marvin here--our new schoolmistress." + +Hester divined that, for some reason, Mr. Samuel had decided to accept her +claim; and that for some reason equally occult he meant to give the +clergyman no choice but to accept it. + +"Indeed?--er--yes, to be sure, I am pleased to make your acquaintance, +Miss Marvin," said Parson Endicott mellifluously, with a glance which +seemed to distinguish Hester kindly from the ordinary furniture of the +room. This was his habitual way of showing cordial goodwill to his social +inferiors, and the poor man had lived to the age of fifty-six without +guessing that they invariably saw through it. Having bestowed this glance +of kindness upon Hester, he turned to Mr. Sam with another, which plainly +asked how far (as one person of importance conferring with another) he +might take it that the creature before them was a satisfactory creature. + +"You're in luck's way," said Mr. Sam, answering this look. "She's a +Churchwoman." + +"My dear Mr. Rosewarne,"--Parson Endicott pressed the finger-tips of both +hands together, holding them in front of his stomach--"I am gratified-- +deeply gratified; but you must not suppose for one moment--h'm--whatever +my faults, I take some credit to myself for broad-mindedness. +A Churchwoman, eh?"--he beamed on Hester--"and in other respects, I hope, +satisfactory?" + +"Quite." Mr. Sam turned to Hester. "Would you mind running over your +qualifications again? To tell the truth, I've forgotten 'em." + +Hester, with an acute sense of shame, again rehearsed the list. + +"Quite so," said Parson Endicott, who had obviously not been listening. +He turned to Mr. Sam with inquiry in his eye. "I think, perhaps--if Miss +Marvin--" + +"I daresay she won't mind stepping into the next room," said Mr. Sam, +turning his back on her, and calmly reseating himself. The parson glanced +at Hester with polite inquiry, and, as she bowed, stepped to open the door +for her. With head bent to hide the flush on her cheeks, she passed out +into the great parlour. + +Now the great parlour overlooked the garden through three tall windows, +of which Susannah had drawn down the blinds half-way and opened the lower +sashes, so that the room seemed to Hester deliciously fresh and cool. +It was filled, too, with the fragrance of a jarful of peonies, set +accurately in the middle of the long bare table; and she stood for a +moment--her sight yet misty with indignant, wounded pride--staring at the +reflection of their crimson blooms in the polished mahogany. + +These two men were intolerable: and yet they only translated into meaner +terms the opinion which everyone in this strange country seemed to have +formed of her. She thought of the young sailor, of Nuncey, of Mr. Benny. +All these were simple souls, and patently willing to believe the best of a +fellow-creature; yet each in a different way had treated her with +suspicion, as though she were here to seek her own interests, and with a +selfish disregard of others'. The young sailor had openly and hotly +accused her of it. Nuncey and her father, though kind, and even +delicately eager to make her welcome, as clearly held some disapproval in +reserve--were puzzled somehow to account for her. And she was guiltless. +She had come in response to a plain invitation, thinking only of good work +to be done. No; what she found intolerable was not these two men, but the +whole situation. + +She turned with a start. Something had flown in through the open midmost +window, and fallen with a thud on the floor a few yards from her feet. + +She stepped across and stooped to examine it. It was the upper half of a +tattered and somewhat grimy rag doll. + +To account for this apparition we must cross the garden, to the +summer-house, where Myra and Clem had hidden themselves away from +the heat with a book, and, for the twentieth time perhaps, were lost in +the adventures of Jack the Tinker and the Giant Blunderbuss. +As a rule Myra would read a portion of the story, and the pair then fell +to acting it over together. In this way Clem had slain, in the course of +his young life, many scores of giants, wizards, dragons, and other enemies +of mankind, his sister the while keeping watch over his blindness, and +calling to him when and where to deliver the deadly stroke. +But to-day the heat disinclined them for these dramatic exertions, and +they sat quiet, even on reaching the point at which Jack the Tinker, his +friend Tom, the good-natured giant, and Tom's children, young Tom and +Jane, fare forth with slings for their famous hunting. + +"'They soon knocked down as many kids, hares, and rabbits as they desired. +They caught some colts, placed the children on two of them and the game on +the others, and home they went.'" + +Myra glanced up at Clem, for this was a passage which ever called to him +like a trumpet. But to-day Clem spread out both hands, protesting. + +"'On their return, whilst waiting for supper, Jack wandered around the +castle, and was struck by seeing a window which he had not before +observed. Jack was resolved to discover the room to which this window +belonged; so he very carefully noticed its position and then threw his +hammer in through it, that he might be certain of the spot when he found +his tool inside the castle. The next day, after dinner.'"-- + +"Wait a moment, Clem dear!" + +"Oh, but we _must!_" Clem had jumped to his feet. + +"It's too dreadfully hot. Very well, then; but wait for the end. + +"'The next day, after dinner, when Tom was having his snooze, Jack took +Tom's wife Jane with him, and they began a search for the hammer near the +spot where Jack supposed the window should be; but they saw no signs of +one in any part of the walls. They discovered, however, a strangely +fashioned worm-eaten oak hanging-press. They carefully examined this, but +found nothing. At last Jack, striking the back of it with his fist, was +convinced from the sound that the wall behind it was hollow. He and Jane +went steadily to work, and with some exertion they moved the press aside +and disclosed a stone door. They opened this, and there was Jack's hammer +lying amidst a pile of bones, evidently the relics of some of old +Blunderbuss's wives, whom he had imprisoned in the wall and left to perish +there!'" + +Myra shut the book with a slam, and, groping beneath the seat of the +summer-house, found and handed to Clem the torso of an old rag doll, +which, because it might be thrown against a window without breaking the +glass, served as their wonted substitute for the Tinker's hammer. + + +"O-oh!" cried Myra, clutching at Clem and drawing him back from the sudden +apparition in the window; and so for a dozen seconds she and Hester stared +at one another. + +"Good-morning!" + +"Good-morning!" Myra hesitated a moment. "Though I don't know who you +are. Oh, but yes I do! You're the new teacher, and it's no use your +pretending." + +"Am I pretending?" asked Hester. + +"Yes; but I know what to do." The child nodded her head defiantly and +made an elaborate sign of the cross, first over Clem and then upon the +front of her own bodice. "That's against witches," she announced. + +"Please don't take me for a witch!" It was absurd, but really Hester +began to wonder where these misunderstandings would end. The look, too, +on the boy's face puzzled her. + +"I always wondered," said Myra, unmoved, "if the new teacher would turn +out a witch. Witches always start by making themselves into young and +beautiful ladies; that's their trick. Whoever heard of a teacher being a +young and beautiful lady?" + +"Well," answered Hester, between a sigh and a smile, "a compliment's a +compliment, however it comes. I am the witch, then; and who may you be?-- +Hansel and Grethel, I suppose? I don't think, though, that Hansel really +believes me a witch, by the way he's looking at me." + +"He isn't looking at you at all. Come away, Clem!" She led the boy away +by the hand, which he gave to her obediently, but left him when half-way +across the turf and came swiftly back. "He wasn't looking at you. +He's blind." + +"Ah, poor child! I am sorry--please tell me your name, and believe that I +am sorry." + +"If you were sorry, you'd go away, and not come teaching here." +Myra delivered this Parthian shaft over her shoulder as she walked off. +At the same moment Hester heard a door open in the room behind her, and +Parson Endicott came forth from the counting-house. + +"Ah--er--Miss Marvin "--He paused with a lift of his eyebrows at the sight +of the rag doll in Hester's hand. She, on her part, felt a sudden +hysterical desire to laugh wildly. + +"It--it isn't mine!" she managed to say in a faint voice and with a catch +in her throat. + +"I had not supposed so," Parson Endicott answered gravely. "I came to +tell you, Miss Marvin, that Mr. Samuel Rosewarne and I have agreed to +recognise your claim. By so doing we shall be piously observing his +father's wishes, and--er--I anticipate no opposition from my +fellow-members on the Board. The school--you have already paid it a +visit, perhaps? No? It will, I venture to think, exceed your +expectations. The school is furnished and ready. I suggest--if the other +Managers consent--that we open it formally on Tuesday next, with a short +religious service, consecrating, so to speak, your future labours. +Yours is a wonderful sphere of usefulness, Miss Marvin; and may I say what +pleasure it gives me to learn that you are a Churchwoman. A regular +communicant, I hope?" + +Hester was silent. She disliked this man, and saw no reason to be hurried +into making any confession to him. + +"It is a point upon which I am accustomed to lay great stress. In these +days, with schismatics on all hands to contend against, it behoves all +members of the true Church to show a bold and united front." He leaned +his head on one side and looked at her interrogatively. "Do you play the +harmonium?" he asked. + +But at this point Mr. Sam thrust his head out through the counting-house +doorway, and the parson coughed discreetly, as much as to say that the +answer might wait. + +"Well, Miss Marvin," said Mr. Sam jocosely, "we've fixed it up for you +between us!" + +Hester thanked them both briefly, and wished them good-day. + +"She dresses respectably," said the parson, when the two were left alone. +"I detect a certain earnestness in her, though I cannot say as yet how far +it is based on genuine religious principles." + +"She is more comely than I expected," said Mr. Sam. + + +At the ferry Hester found Nuncey awaiting her with a boat-load of the +Benny children. + +"I reckoned you'd be here just-about-now," Nuncey hailed her. +"Come'st along for a bathe wi' the children! I've a-brought a bathin' +suit for 'ee." + +"But I can't swim," Hester answered in alarm, and added, as she stepped +into the boat, "Nuncey, don't laugh at me, but until to-day I had never +seen the sea in my life." + +Nuncey looked her up and down quizzically. "And I've never seen Lunnon! +Never mind, my dear; 'tisn' too late to begin. There's none of this crew +knows how to swim but me and Tenny here," she pointed out a boy of eleven +or twelve. "We'll just row out to harbour's mouth; there's a cove where +we can put the littlest ones to paddle. And after that I'll larn 'ee how +to strike out and use your legs, if you've a mind to. It'll do 'ee good +to kick a bit, I'll wage, after a dose of Mister Sam. Well, and how did +you like 'en?" + +"I didn't like him at all." Hester almost broke down. "Please, Nuncey, be +good to me! It--it seems as everyone was banded against me to-day, +to think badly of me." + +"Be good to 'ee? Why, to be sure I will! Sit 'ee down and unlace your +boots, while me and Tenny pulls. Care killed the cat--'cos why? +He wouldn't wash it off in salt water." + +They rowed down past the quays and out beyond the ancient fort at the +harbour's mouth. On the opposite shore a reef of rock ran out, and on the +ridge stood a white wooden cross, "put up," so Nuncey informed her, +"because Pontius Pilate landed here one time." Beyond this ridge they +found a shingly beach secluded from the town, warmed by the full rays of +the westering sun. There they undressed, one and all, and for half an +hour were completely happy. To be sure, Hester's happiness contained a +fair admixture of fright when Nuncey took her hand and led her out till +the water rose more than waist-high about her. + +"Now trust to me; lean forward, and see if you can't lift your feet off +the ground," said Nuncey, slipping a hand under her breast. Hester tried +her hardest to be brave, and although no swimming was accomplished that +day, the trial ended in peals of laughter. She splashed ashore at length, +gleeful, refreshed in body and mind, and resolved to make herself as good +a swimmer as Nuncey, who swam like a duck. + + + +CHAPTER XII. + + +THE OPENING DAY. + +It often happens, when a number of persons meet together for some purpose +in itself unselfish, that there prevails in the assembly a spirit of its +own, recognisably good, surprising even the pettiest with a sudden glow in +their hearts, and a sudden revelation that the world is a cheerfuller +place than in their daily lives they take it for. This cheerful +congregational spirit I take to flow from a far deeper source than the +emotion, for example, which a great preacher commands in his audience. +It may be--indeed, usually is--accompanied by very poor oratory. +The occasion may be trivial as you please; that it be unselfish will +suffice to unlock the goodness within men, who, if often worse than they +believe, and usually than they make believe, are always better than they +know. + +This spirit prevailed at the school opening, and because of it Hester felt +happy and confident during the little function, and ever afterwards +remembered it with pleasure. For the moment Church and Dissent seemed to +forget their meannesses and jealousies. The morning sun shone without; +the breeze played through the open windows with a thousand hedgerow +scents; the two score of children ranged by their desks, fresh-faced and +in their cleanest clothes, suggested thoughts innocent and deep as the +gospel story; and if Parson Endicott was long-winded, and Mr. Sam spoke +tunelessly and accompanied his performance on the bones, so to speak--that +is, by pulling at his knuckles till the joints cracked--consolation soon +followed. For third and last came the turn of the Inspector, who had +halted on his progress through the county to attend a ceremony of the kind +in which he took delight. He had lately been transferred from the Charity +Commission to this new work, and it fell to him at a time when the selfish +ambitions die down, and in their place, if a man's heart be sound, there +springs up a fatherly tenderness for the young, with a passionate desire +to help them. Hester could not guess that this grave and courteous +gentleman, grey-haired, clean shaven, scholarly in his accent, neat even +to primness in his dress, spoke with a vision before him of an England to +be made happy by making its children happy, that the roots of the few +simple thoughts he uttered were watered by ideal springs-- + + "I will not cease from mental fight, + Nor shall my sword sleep in my hand, + Till we have built Jerusalem + In England's green and pleasant land." + +Simple as the thoughts were, and directly spoken, the children gazed at +him with set faces, not appearing to kindle with any understanding; and +yet, after the manner of children, they were secreting a seed here and +there, to germinate in their dark little minds later on, as in due time +Hester discovered. She herself, seated at the harmonium, felt a lift of +the heart and mist gathering over her sight at the close of his quiet +peroration, and a tear fell as she stretched out her hands over the +opening chords of the 'Old Hundredth.' All sang it with a will, and +Parson Endicott with an unction he usually reserved for 'The Church's One +Foundation.' + +With a brief prayer and the benediction the ceremony ended, and while the +elders filed out the Inspector walked over for a few words with Hester. + +"Ever since I learnt your name, Miss Marvin--excuse me, it is not a common +one--I have been wanting to ask you a question. I used to have an old +friend--Jeremy Marvin--who lived at Warwick, and found for me some scores +of old books in his time. I was wondering--" + +"He was my father, sir." + +"Indeed? Then, please, you must let me shake hands with his daughter. +Yes, yes,"--with a glance down at her black skirt--"I heard of his death, +and with a real sense of bereavement." + +"I have addressed and posted many a parcel to you, sir, in the days before +I left home to earn my living." + +"And you weren't going to tell me that? You left me to find out--yes, +yes; 'formidable Inspector,' and that sort of thing, eh? I'm not an ogre, +though. Now this little discovery has just put the finishing touch to a +delightful morning!" + +Hester, encouraged by his smile, laughed merrily, and so did he; less at +the spoken words than because of the good gladness brimming their hearts. + +"But tell me," he went on, becoming serious again, "if a child, out of +shyness, hid from you a small secret of that sort, you would be sorry--eh? +And you would rightly be sorry, because by missing that little of his +entire trust you had by so much fallen short of being a perfect teacher." + +"And two of these children," thought Hester, with a glance at Clem and +Myra, "solemnly believe I am a witch!" + + +As the Inspector went down the hill towards the ferry, he overtook another +and older acquaintance in an old college friend. This was Sir George +Dinham of Troy, who had attended the ceremony uninvited, and greatly to +the awe of everyone assembled--the Inspector and Hester alone excepted. +Indeed, his presence had bidden fair at the start to upset the +proceedings; for Parson Endicott and Mr. Sam had both approached him hat +in hand, and begged him, not without servility, to preside. This proposal +he had declined with his habitual shy, melancholy smile, and shrunk away +to a back row of the audience. In his great house over Troy he lived a +recluse: a scholar, a childless man, the last of his race, rarely seen by +the townsfolk, of whom two-thirds at least were his tenants. He had heard +of the Inspector's coming, and some ray of remembered affection had +enticed him forth from his shell, to listen. Now, at the sound of the +Inspector's footstep on the road behind him, he turned and waited, leaning +on his stick. The two men had not met since a Commemoration Ball when +young Dinham led his friend proudly up to a beautiful girl, his bride that +was to be. She died a bare six weeks later; and from that day her lover +had buried himself with his woe. + +"George!" + +"How d'ye do, Jack? I had to turn out to listen, you see--_ecce quam +sempiterna vox juventutis!_ You have improved on your old debating style, +having, as I gather, found belief." + +The Inspector flushed. "Ah, you gathered that?" + +"Yes, I haven't lost the knack of understanding those I once understood. +Not that it needed anything of the sort. Man, you were admirably +straight--and gentle, too--you that used to be intolerant. You mustn't +think, though, that I'm convinced; I can't afford to be." + +"You mean--?" + +"I mean that, if you are right, I ought to be a sun worshipper, and sit +daily at dawn on top of my tower yonder, warming my hands against the glow +of children's faces, trooping to school. Whereas the little beggars run +wild and rob my orchards, and I don't remember at this moment my parish +schoolmaster's name." + +The Inspector bethought him of the broken bridge in his friend's life--the +bridge by which men cross over from self into love of a new generation-- +and was silent. + +"But look here," Sir George went on, "the fun was your preaching the +doctrine in that temple. You didn't know the man who built it. He died a +week or two ago; a man of character, I tell you, and a big fellow, too, in +his way." + +"I have heard of this Rosewarne. All I know of him is that he's to be +thanked for the best-fitted school, for its size, in all Cornwall. +I'm not talking of expense merely; he used thought, down to the details. +When you begin to study these things, you recognise thought, down to the +raising or lowering of a desk, or the screws in a cupboard. You don't get +your fittings right by giving _carte blanche_ to a wholesale firm." + +"Of course you don't. But what, think you, had the man in view? I tell +you, Jack, you are a fossil beside him. You talk of making good citizens, +quite in the old Hellenic style. Oh yes, I recognised the incurable +Aristotle in your exhortation, though you _did_ address it to two score of +rustic British children. But, my dear fellow, you are a philosopher in a +barbarian's court, and your barbarian has been reading his Darwin. +Where you see a troop of little angels--" + +"_Non Angeli sed Angli_," the Inspector put in, with a smile. + +"Where you behold a vision, then, of little English citizens growing up to +serve the State, he saw a horde of little struggle-for-lifers climbing on +each other's backs; and these fellows--that son of his, and the parson-- +will follow his line by instinct. They don't reason; but Darwin and the +rest have flung them on the scent of selfishness, and they have a rare +nose for self. Struggle-for-life or struggle-for-creed, the scent is the +same, and they're hot upon it." + +"Think of these last fifty years of noble reform. Is England going back +upon herself--upon the spirit, for instance, that raised Italy, freed the +slave, and cared for the factory child?" + +"To be sure she will. She has found a creed to vindicate the human brute, +and the next generation--mark my words--will be predatory. Within twenty +years we shall be told that it is inevitable the weak should suffer to +enrich the strong; we shall accept the assurance, and our poets will hymn +it passionately." + +"If that day should ever come, we can still die fighting it. But I trust +to Knowledge to do her own work. You remember that sentence in the +_Laws_, 'Many a victory has been and will be suicidal to the victors, but +education is never suicidal'? Nor will you persuade me easily that the +new mistress up yonder,"--the Inspector nodded back at the school +building--"is going to train her children to be little beasts of prey." + +"The girl with the Madonna face? No; you're right there. But the +Managers will find a short way with her; she'll go." + +"She turns out to be the daughter of an old friend of mine, Marvin of +Warwick, the second-hand bookseller." + +"Marvin? Jeremiah Marvin? Why, I must have received his catalogues by +the score." + +"Jeremy," his friend corrected him. "He was christened Jeremiah, to be +sure, and told me once it was the handiest name on earth, and could be +made to express anything, 'from the lugubrious, sir, to the rollicking. +In my young days, sir,'--for he had been a soldier in his time--'I was +Corporal Jerry. Corporal Jerry Marvin! How's that for a name? Jeremiah +I hold in reserve against the blows of destiny or promotion to a better +world. But Jeremy, sir, as I think you'll allow, is the only wear for a +second-hand bookseller.' A whimsical fellow!" + +"He is dead, then?" + +"Yes, he died a few weeks since; and poorly-off, I'm afraid. He had a +habit of reading the books he vended. Look here, George,"--the Inspector +halted in the middle of the roadway--"I want you to do me a favour, or +rather, to promise one." + +"What is it?" + +"I want you to promise that, if these fellows get rid of Miss Marvin, you +will see that she suffers no harsh treatment from them. I can find her +another post, no doubt; but there may be an interval in which you can +help." + +"Very well," Sir George answered, after a pause. "I can manage that. +But they'll eject her, you may bet." + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + + +TOM TREVARTHEN INTERVENES. + +When the company had departed Hester arranged her small troop at their +desks--boys and girls and 'infants'--and made them a speech. It was a +very short speech, asking for their affection, and somehow she found +herself addressing it to Myra, whose dark eyes rested on her with a stare +of unyielding suspicion. On hearing that the two children were to attend +the Board School, Aunt Purchase had broken out into vehement protest, the +exact purport of which Myra did not comprehend. But she gathered that a +wrong of some kind was being done to her and (this was more important) to +Clem, and she connected it with the loss of their liberty. Until this +moment she had known no schooling. Her grandmother in stray hours had +taught her the alphabet and some simple reading, and the rest of her +knowledge she had picked up for herself. She well remembered the last of +these stray hours. It fell on a midsummer evening, three years before, +when she and Clem--then a child of four--had spent a long day riding to +and fro in the hay waggons. Now Mrs. Rosewarne for the last few years of +her life, and indeed ever since Myra could remember, had been a cripple, +confined to the house or to her small garden, save only when she entered +an ancient covered vehicle (called 'the Car') and was jogged into Liskeard +to visit her dressmaker, or over to Damelioc to attend one of Lady +Killiow's famous rose fetes. It was the hour of sunset, then, and in the +shadow of the hedge old Pleasant, the waggon-horse, having Clem on his +back, stood tethered, released from his work, contentedly cropping the +rank grass between the clusters of meadow-sweet, and whisking his tail to +brush off the flies. The horse-flies had been pestilent all day, and +Myra was weaving a frontlet of green hazel twigs to slip under Pleasant's +headstall, when she happened to turn and caught sight of her grandmother +standing by the upper gate, leaning on her ivory-headed staff, and shading +her eyes against the level sun. No one ever knew how the old lady had +found strength to walk the distance from the house--for walked it she had. +It may have been that some sudden fright impelled her; some unreasoning +panic for the children's safety. Old Rosewarne, seated on horseback and +watching the rick-makers in the far corner, caught sight of her, cantered +across to the gate, dismounted there, and led her home on his arm; and the +children had followed. So far as Myra could remember, nothing came of +this apparition--nothing except that she found herself, a little later, +seated in her grandmother's dressing-room and reading aloud; and this must +have happened soon after they reached home, for while she read she heard +the fowls settling themselves to roost in the hen-house beneath the open +window. Three weeks later Mrs. Rosewarne was dead--had faded out like a +shadow; and since then the children had run wild, no one constraining them +to tasks. + +She sat with eyes fixed sullenly on Hester, and fingers ready at any +moment to make the sign of the cross. To the other children she paid no +heed; they were merely so many victims entrapped, ready to be changed into +birds and put into cages, as in _Jorinda and Jorindel_. "Why was this +woman separating the girls from the boys? She should not take away Clem. +Let her try!" Hester had too much tact. Having marshalled the others, +she set a pen and copy-book before Myra, and bending over Clem, asked him +in the gentlest voice to sit and wait; she would come back to him in a +moment (she promised) and with a pretty game for him to play. + +"Don't you listen to a single word she says," Myra whispered; but Clem had +already taken his seat. + +Hester had sent for a book of letters in raised type for the blind boy. +Before setting him down to this, however, she wished to try the suppleness +and accuracy of his touch with some simple reed-plaiting. + +The reeds lay within the cupboard across the room. She went to fetch +them, and at this moment the schoolroom door opened behind her. + +She heard the lift of the latch, and turned with a smile. But the smile +faded almost at once as she recognised her visitor. It was Tom +Trevarthen, and he entered with a grin and a defiant, jaunty swagger which +did not at all become him. + +In an instant she scented danger, and felt her cheeks paling; but she +lifted her head none the less, looking him straight in the eyes. + +"I beg your pardon. Are you in search of someone?" + +"Seems I'm too late for the speechifying," said the young sailor, avoiding +her gaze, and winking at two or three elder boys on the back benches. +"Well, never mind; must do a little speechifyin' of my own, I suppose. +By your leave, miss," he added, seating himself on the end of a form and +fanning himself with his seaman's cap, which he had duly doffed on +entering. + +"I think," said Hester quietly, and prayed that he might not hear the +tremble in her voice, "I think you have come on purpose to annoy, and that +you do not like the business." + +"It's this way, miss. I've no grudge at all against _you_, except to +wonder how such a gentle-spoken young lady can have the heart to come here +ruinin' an old 'ooman that never done you a ha'p'orth of harm in her +life." He was looking at her firmly now, with a rising colour in his tan +cheeks, and Hester's heart sank as she noted his growing confidence. +"But I've told 'ee that a'ready," he said, and turned to the boys again. +"What I wonder at more is _you_, Billy Sweet--an' _you_, Dave Polseath-- +an' _you_, Rekkub Johns--that'll be growin' up for men in a year or two. +Seems to me there's some spirit gone out o' this here parish since I used +to be larrupped for minchin'. Seems to me a passel o' boys in my day +would have had summat to say afore they sat here quiet, helpin' to steal +the bread out of an old 'ooman's mouth, an' runnin' to heel for a +furriner." + +The boys glanced at one another and grinned, then at the intruder, lastly +at Hester. Her look held them, and some habit of discipline learnt from +the old woman they were being invited to champion. One or two began +shuffling in their seats. + +But it was Myra who led the rebellion. She stepped to Tom's side at once, +and cried she, pointing a finger at Hester, "She's a witch! Look at +her--she's a witch! I know now why Aunt Hannah called it a burning shame. +She's robbing Mother Butson, and she's a witch and ought to be burnt. +Come along, Clem!" + +Hester, turning from the child between pain and disgust, intent only on +holding the bigger boys in check while she could, did not note that Clem +made no movement to obey his sister. + +"Well done, Miss Myra!--though you needn't talk vindictive. There's no +need to harm _her_. Now look here, boys! Mother Butson gives you a +holiday, and sent me up with the message. What do 'ee say to it?" + +"Stop!" Hester lifted a hand against the now certain mutiny. "Your name +is Trevarthen, I believe?" + +"Tom Trevarthen, miss." + +"Then, Tom Trevarthen, you are a poor coward. Now do your worst and go +your way. You have heard the truth." + +"'Tidn' best a man said that to me," answered Tom, with a lowering brow. + +"A man?" she replied, with a short laugh of contempt which in her own ears +sounded like a sob. "There were men here just now; but you waited till +they were gone!" + +"No, miss; I did not, you'll excuse me. I only knew the school was to +open to-day. I came ashore half an hour ago, and walked up here across +the fields." He stood for a second or two meditatively twisting his round +cap between his hands. "We'll play fair, though," he said, and faced +round on the benches. "Sorry to disappoint 'ee, boys, but you must do +without your holiday, after all. This here is a man's job, as Miss Marvin +says, and 'tis for men to settle it. Only,"--he turned upon Hester again-- +"you must name your man quick. My ship sails early in the week; let alone +that there's cruel wrong being done, and the sooner 'tis righted the +better." + +Hester's hand went up to her throat. Was this extraordinary youth +actually proposing a wager of battle? His eyes rested on hers seriously; +his demeanour had become entirely courteous. + +"Ah," she gasped, "but cannot you see that the mischief is done! +You behave shamefully, and now you talk childishly. You have made these +children disloyal, and what hold can I have on them except through their +loyalty? You have thrown me back at the start--I cannot bear to think how +far--and you talk as if some foolish violence could mend this for me! +Please--please go away! I have no patience to argue with you." + +"Yes, go away!" broke in a shrill treble voice. It was Clem's. The child +had risen from his bench and stood up, gripping the desk in front and +trembling. + +"Clem dear, you don't understand--" began Myra. + +"Yes, I do understand!" For the first time in his life his will clashed +with hers. "Tom Trevarthen is wrong, and ought to go away." + +"She's a nasty, deceitful witch!" + +"She's not a witch!" The child's eyes turned towards Hester, as if +seeking to behold her and be assured. "You're not a witch, are you?" he +asked; and at the question Hester's tears, so long held back, brimmed +over. + +Before she could answer him the door opened, and Mr. Sam stood in the +entry with Mrs. Purchase close behind his shoulder, in a sky-blue and +orange bonnet. + +"Eh? Hullo! what's all this?" demanded Mr. Sam, staring around the +schoolroom; and Mrs. Purchase, bustling in and mopping her face, paused +too to stare. + +For a moment no one spoke. Mr. Sam's eyes passed over Tom Trevarthen in +slow, indignant wonder, and rested on Hester's flushed cheeks and +tear-reddened lids. + +"Why, whatever on earth is Tom Trevarthen doin' here?" cried Mrs. +Purchase. + +"I've a-come here, ma'am," spoke up Tom, kindling, "to say a word against +a cruel shame; for shame it is, to take the food away from a poor old +'ooman's mouth!" + +"Meanin' Mother Butson?" + +"Yes, ma'am." + +"An' your way to set things right is to come here and browbeat a poor girl +before the children till her eyes be pink as garden daisies! Go'st 'way +home, thou sorry fool! I'm ashamed of 'ee!" + +"As for that, ma'am, I did wrong," Tom admitted sullenly, "and I beg her +pardon for't. But it don't alter the hurt to Mother Butson." + +"You're mistaken, my friend," broke in Mr. Sam, in his rasping voice. +"To be sure you haven't closed Mother Butson's school for her, because +'tis closed already. Twopence a week is the lowest she could ever charge, +to earn a living, and I leave to judge how many sensible folks will be +paying twopence a week for her ignorance when they can get sound teaching +up here for a penny. But a worse thing you've done for her. She lodges +with your mother, I believe? Very well; you can go home and tell your +mother to get rid of her lodger. Eh, what are you staring at?" + +The young man had fallen back, and stared from face to face, incredulous. +There was a bewildered horror in his eyes, and it cut Hester to the heart. +Her own eyes sank as he challenged them. + +"No, Sam--no!" Mrs. Purchase interposed. "Don't 'ee go to punish the lad +that way. He've made a mistake; but he's a well-meanin' lad for all, and +I'll wage he'll tell you he's sorry." + +"Well-meaning, is it, to come here bullying a young lady? Sorry, is he? I +promise he'll be sorrier before I've done. Answer me, sir. Did Mrs. +Butson know of your visit here to-day?" + +"I told her I was coming," Tom answered dully. + +"That settles it. Heaven is my witness," said Mr. Sam, with sudden +unction, "I was willing to let the old woman wind up her affairs in peace. +But mutiny I don't stand, nor molesting. You go home, sir, to your +mother, and tell her my words. I give her till Saturday--" + +The words ended in a squeal as Tom, with a sharp intake of breath like a +sob, sprang and gripped him by the throat, bearing him back and +overturning Hester's desk with a crash. One or two of the girls began to +scream. The boys scrambled on top of their forms, craning, round-eyed +with excitement. The little ones stood up with white faces, shrinking +with terror, as Hester ran and placed herself between them and the +struggle. + +"You cur! You miserable--dirty--cur!" panted Tom, shaking Mr. Sam to and +fro. "Leave me alone, missus!"--for Mrs. Purchase was attempting to +clutch him by the collar. "Leave me deal with him, I tell you! +Stand clear, there!" + +With a sharp thrust he loosened his hold, and Mr. Sam went flying +backwards, missed his footing, and fell, his head striking the corner of a +form with a thud. + +"Get up! Up on your legs, and have it out like a man!" + +But Mr. Sam lay where he had fallen in a heap, with the blood oozing from +an ugly cut across the left temple. + +"Get up?" vociferated Mrs. Purchase. "Lucky for you if he ever gets up! +You've gone nigh to killing 'en, mean it or no. Out of my sight, you +hot-headed young fool! Be off to the ship, pack up your kit, and run. +'Tis a jailin' matter, this; and now you've done for yourself as well as +your mother." + +For a moment the young man stared at her, not seeming to comprehend. +"Eh, missus?" he muttered. "Be you agen' me too?" + +Mrs. Purchase positively laughed, and a weird cackling sound it made in +Hester's ears as she bent to support one of the smaller girls, who had +fainted. "Agen' you? Take an' look around on your mornin's work! +You've struck down my brother's son, Tom Trevarthen--isn't that enough? +Go an' pack your kit; I'll have no jail-birds aboard my ship." + +He turned and went. On the way his foot encountered Mr. Sam's tall silk +hat, and he kicked it viciously through the doorway before him. + + +"Tom!" + +Until the call had been repeated twice behind him Tom Trevarthen did not +hear. When, after a stupid stare at his hands (as though there had been +blood on his knuckles), he turned to the voice, he saw Myra speeding +bareheaded to overtake him. She beckoned him to stop. + +"What will you do, Tom?" she panted, as he waited for her to come up. + +"Me, missy? Well, I hadn't given it a thought; but now you mention it, I +s'pose I'd better cut. 'Tis a police job, most like, as your aunt said. +But never you mind for me." + +The name of the police sounded terribly in Myra's ears. + +"The _Good Intent_ will be sailing to-night; I heard Peter Benny say so," +she suggested; "and the _Mary Rowett_ to-morrow, if the weather holds." + +Tom Trevarthen nodded. "That's so, missy. Old man Hancock of the +_Good Intent_ wants a hand, to my knowledge. I'll try 'en, or else walk +to Falmouth. Don't you fret for me," he repeated. + +They had reached the gate of Hall, over which a gigantic chestnut spread +its branches. As Myra faced Tom Trevarthen a laugh sounded overhead; and, +looking up, she saw Master Calvin's legs and elastic-sided boots depending +from a green bough. + +"Hullo, Myra!" Master Calvin called down. "How d'you get on up at the +Board School?" + +"_He_ don't go to Board School," said Tom Trevarthen, jerking his thumb up +towards the bough. "In training to be a gentleman, _he_ is; not like +Master Clem. Well, good-bye, missy!" + +Myra watched him down the road, and, as he disappeared at the bend, flung +a glance up at the chestnut tree. + +"Come down," she commanded, in no loud voice, but firmly. + +"Shan't." + +"What are you doing up there?" She sniffed the air, her sense of smell +alive to a strange scent in it. "You nasty, horrid boy, you're smoking!" + +"I'm not," answered Master Calvin untruthfully, concealing a pipe. +"I'm up here pretending to be Zacchaeus." + +Myra without more ado pushed open the gate and went up the path to the +house. In less than two minutes she was back again. + +"Come down." + +"Shan't." + +"Very well. I'm going to Zacchaeus you." + +"What's that in your hand?" + +"It's grandfather's powder-flask; and I've a box of matches, too." + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + + +MR. SAM IS MAGNANIMOUS. + +Hester's cupboard contained a small case of plasters, lint, ointments, +etc., for childish cuts and bruises. She despatched a couple of boys to +the playground pump to fetch water, and then glanced at Mrs. Purchase +interrogatively. + +"Better send for a doctor, I suppose?" said Mrs. Purchase. + +"I think, if we bathe the wound, we can tell better what's necessary. +Will _you_--?" + +"I reckon the job's more in your line. You've the look o' one able to +nurse--yes, and you've the trick of it, I see," Mrs. Purchase went on, as +Hester knelt, lifted the sufferer's head, and motioned to the boys to set +down their basin of water beside her. "I'll clear the children out to the +playground and keep 'em quiet. Call, if you want anything; I'll be close +outside." The good lady shepherded them forth with brisk authority; +not for nothing had she commanded a ship these thirty years. +"But, Lord!" she muttered, "to think of me playing schoolmistress! +What'll I do, I wonder, if these varmints of boys break ship and run +home?" + +She might have spared herself this anxiety. The children were all agog to +see the drama out. Would Mr. Samuel recover? And, if not, what would be +done to Tom Trevarthen? They discussed this in eager groups. If any of +them had an impulse to run downhill and cry the news through the village, +Mrs. Purchase's determined slamming and bolting of the playground gate +restrained it--that, and perhaps a thought that by running with the news +they would start the hue-and-cry after Tom. + +Hester, having sponged away the blood, found that the cut on Mr. Sam's +temple was nothing to need a doctor, but could be set right by cleansing +and a few strips of plaster. Doubtless the fall had stunned him, and +doubtless he must be in some pain. Yet when at length he groaned and +opened his eyes she could not repress a suspicion (although she hated +herself for it) that in some degree he had been shamming. + +"Do not move, please," she commanded gently, snipping at the plaster with +her scissors. "A couple of strips more, then a bandage, and you will soon +be feeling better." + +His eyes rolled and fixed themselves on her. "A ministering angel," he +muttered. She caught the words, and turned her head aside with a flush of +annoyance. + +"You have an ugly bruise," she told him sharply. "I am going to put a +cool compress on it. You had better close your eyes, or some of the water +will be trickling into them." + +He closed them obediently, but asked, "He has gone?" + +"Yes." + +"Then _you_ are safe at least, thank God!" + +Yes, he had taken his hurt in protecting her; and yet something in his +tone caused her to glance, and as if for protection, to the doorway. + +"You are comely," he went on slowly, opening his eyes again, and again +rolling that embarrassing gaze upon her. "Your fingers, too, have the +gift of healing." + +She could not tell him with what repugnance she brought them to touch him. +Having fastened the bandage firmly, she turned again to the doorway to +summon Mrs. Purchase, but checked herself. + +"I want to ask you a favour," she began in a hesitating voice. + +"You may ask it confidently." + +"I want you to forgive--no, not forgive; that is the wrong word--to be +generous, and not to punish." + +Mr. Samuel blinked. "Let him off?" he asked. "Why? What's your +motive?" + +"I don't know that there's any motive." She met his eyes frankly enough, +but with a musing air as if considering a new suggestion. "No; it's just +a wish, no more. An hour ago it seemed to me that everyone was eager and +happy; that there would always be pleasure in looking back upon our +opening day." Her voice trembled a little. "Now this has happened, to +spoil all; and yet something may be saved if we bear no malice, but take +up the work again, and show that we waste no time or thought on +punishment, being determined only to win." + +"You are asking a great deal of me," he answered. Nevertheless he had +instantly resolved to grant her wish, and for many reasons. "I suppose +you know the matter is serious enough for a warrant? Still, if I shall +oblige you by declining to prosecute--" + + +"But please don't put it in that way!" she interrupted. + +"I really don't see how else to put it." He paused, as if requiring her +to suggest a better. "The point is, you want me to let the fellow off-- +eh? Well then, I will." + +"Thank you," said Hester, with a sigh. + +Mr. Sam smiled. After being shaken like a rat, a man needs to retrieve +his self-respect, and he was retrieving his famously. He could see +himself in a magnanimous light: he had laid the girl under an obligation; +he had avoided public action which would, to be sure, have given him +revenge, but at much cost of dignity; and, for the rest, he had still +plenty of ways to get even with Master Tom Trevarthen. + +Hester had a mind to tell him that he misconstrued her; that merely to +abstain from pursuing the lad with warrant or summons neither fulfilled +her request nor touched the kernel of it. But while she cast about for +words Mrs. Purchase thrust a cheerful head in at the doorway. + +"Hullo, that's famous!" she exclaimed at sight of the bandaging. +"You're a clever woman, my dear; and now I'll ask you to bring your +cleverness outside here and take these children off my hands. +W'st, you little numskulls!"--she turned and addressed them--"keep quiet, +I say, with your mountains out of molehills! There's no one killed nor +hurt; only a foolish lad lost his temper, and he'll smart for it, and I +hope it'll be a warning to you." She poked her head in through the +doorway again. "Come along, Sam, and show yourself. And as for you, my +dear," she went on hurriedly, lowering her voice, "better get 'em back to +their work as if nought had happened. I'll bide a while with you till you +have 'em in hand again." + +"Thank you," said Hester; "but that wouldn't help me in the long-run. +I must manage them alone." + +"You mean that?" + +"Yes; but I thank you none the less." + +"And you're right. You're a plucky woman." She turned to Mr. Sam +briskly. "Well, take my arm and put on as light a face as you can. +Here's your hat--I've smoothed out the worst of the dents. Eh? Bain't +goin' to make a speech, surely!" + +Mr. Sam, leaning slightly on his aunt's arm, pulled himself up on the +threshold and surveyed the children's wondering faces. + +"Boys and girls," he said, "our opening day has been spoilt by a scene on +which I won't dwell, because I desire you not to dwell on it. If you +treat it lightly, as I intend to do, bearing no malice, we shall show the +world all the more clearly that we are in earnest about things which +really matter." + +He cleared his throat and looked around with a challenging smile at +Hester, who watched him, wondering to hear her own words so cleverly +repeated. + +"We wish," he proceeded, "to remember our opening day as a pleasant one. +Miss Marvin especially wishes to look back on it with pleasure; and I +think we all ought to help her. Now if I say no more about this foolish +young man--whom I could punish very severely--will you promise me to go +back to your books? To-day, as you know, is a half-holiday; but there +remains an hour for work before you disperse. I want your word that you +will employ it well, and honestly try to do all that Miss Marvin tells +you." + +He paused again, and chose to take a slight murmur among the children for +their assent. + +"I thank you. There is an old saying that he who conquers himself +performs a greater feat than he who takes a city. Some of us, Miss +Marvin, may hereafter associate the lesson with this our opening day." + +He seemed to await some reply to this; but Hester could not speak, even to +thank him. Her spirit recoiled from him; she could not reconcile egoism +so inordinate with such cleverness in turning it to account. She watched +him with a certain fascination, as one watches some trained monster in a +show displaying its deformity for public applause. He shook hands with +her and made his exit, not without dignity, leaning on Mrs. Purchase's arm +and turning at the playground gate to wave farewell. + +It is doubtful if the children understood his speech. But they were awed. +At the word of command they trooped into school, settled themselves at +their desks, and took up their interrupted lessons with a docility at +which Hester wondered, since for the moment she herself had lost all power +to interest or amuse them. + +For her that was a dreadful hour. A couple of humble-bees zoomed against +the window pane, and the sound, with the ticking of the schoolroom clock, +took possession of her brain. Z-zoom! Tick-tack, tick-tack! +Would lesson-time never come to an end? She went about automatically +correcting sums, copies, exercises, because the sight of the pencilled +words or figures steadied her faculties, whereas she felt that if she +called the children up in class her wits would wander and all answers come +alike to her, right or wrong. Her will, too, had fallen into a strange +drowsiness. She wanted the window open, to get rid of the humble-bees; +a word to one of the elder boys and it would be done. Yet the minutes +passed and the word remained unspoken. So a sick man will lie and debate +with himself so small a thing as the lifting of a hand. + +At length the clock hands pointed to five minutes to noon. She ordered +books to be shut and slates to be put away; and going to the harmonium, +gave out the hymn, "Lord, dismiss us with Thy blessing." The Managers had +agreed upon this hymn; the Nonconformist majority insisting, however, that +the concluding 'Amen' should be omitted. Omitted accordingly it was on +the slips of paper printed for school use. + + "Lord, dismiss us with Thy blessing, + Thanks for mercies past receive; + Pardon all their faults confessing; + Time that's lost may all retrieve; + May Thy children + Ne'er again Thy Spirit grieve." + +The children, released from the dull strain of watching the clock, sang +with spirit. Hester played on, inattentive to the words. At the end, +without considering what she did, she pressed down the chords of the +'Amen,' and the singers joined in, all unaware of transgressing. + +In the silence that followed she suddenly remembered her instructions to +omit the word, and sat for a moment flushed and confused. But the deed +was done. The children stood shuffling their feet, awaiting the signal of +dismissal. + +"You may go," she said. "We will do better to-morrow." + +When their voices had died away down the road she closed the harmonium +softly, and fell to walking to and fro, musing, tidying up the schoolroom +by fits and starts. She wanted to sit down and have a good cry; but +always as the tears came near to flowing she fell to work afresh and +checked them. Not until the room looked neat again did she remember that +she was hungry. Nuncey had cooked a pasty for her, and she fetched it +from the cupboard, where it lay in a basket covered by a spotless white +cloth. As she did so, her eyes fell on a damp spot on the floor, where, +after bandaging Mr. Sam, she had carefully washed out the stain of his +blood. + +She looked at her hands. They were clean; and yet having set down the +basket on the desk, and turned her stool so that she might not see the +spot on the floor, she continued to stare at them, and from them to the +white cloth. A while she stood thus, irresolute, still listening to the +bees zooming against the pane. Then with a sudden effort of will she +walked out and across the yard, to the pump in the far corner. + +She was stooping to raise the pump handle, but straightened herself up +again at the sound--as it seemed to her--of a muffled sob. + +She looked behind her and around. The playground was empty, the air +across its gravelled surface quivering under the noonday heat. +She listened. + +Two long minutes passed before the sound was repeated; and this time she +knew it for the sob of a child. It came from behind an angle of the +building which hid a strip of the playground from view. She ran thither +at once, and as she turned the corner her eyes fell on little Clem. + +She had missed him from his place when the children returned to the +schoolroom. His sister, she supposed, had taken him home. + +He stood sentry now in the shade under the north wall of the building. +He stood there so resolutely that, for the instant, Hester could scarcely +believe the sobs had come from him. But he had heard her coming; and the +face he turned to her, though tearless, was woefully twisted and +twitching. + +"My poor child!" + +He stretched out both hands. + +"Where is Myra? I want Myra, please!" + + + +CHAPTER XV. + + +MYRA IN DISGRACE. + +Myra was in her bedroom, under lock and key; and this is how it had +happened. + +"What put it into your head to make that speech?" asked Mrs. Purchase, as +she and Mr. Sam wended their way back to Hall. In form the question was +addressed to her nephew; in tone, to herself. + +Mr. Sam paused as if for breath, and plucking down a wisp of honeysuckle +from the hedgerow, sniffed at it to gain time. + +"I don't like talking about such things," he answered; "but it came into +my head to do my Master's bidding: 'Bless them that curse you, do good to +them that hate you, and pray for them that despitefully use you.'" + +"Fiddlestick-end!" said Mrs. Purchase. + +"I assure you--" + +"If you don't mean to get upsides with Tom Trevarthen, I'm a Dutchman. +'Forgive your enemies' may be gospel teaching, but I never knew a +Rosewarne to practise it. You're a clever fellow, nephew Sam, and that +speech saved your face, as the Yankees say; but somehow I've a notion its +cleverness didn't end there. I saw the schoolmistress watching you--did +she put you up to it?" + +"I don't mind telling you that she had interceded with me." + +"I like the cut of that girl's jib," Mrs. Purchase announced after a +pause. "She's good-looking, and she has pluck. But I don't take back +what I said, that it's a wrong you're doing to Clem and Myra, putting them +to school with all the riff-raff of the parish." + +"That's the kind of objection one learns to expect from a Radical," her +nephew answered drily. + +"'Tis a queer thing, now," she mused, "that ever since I married 'Siah the +family will have me to be a Radical; and 'tis the queerer, because ne'er +one of 'ee knows what a Radical is or ought to be. S'pose I do hold that +all mankind and all womankind has equal rights under the Lord--that don't +mean they're all alike, do it? or that I can't tell a man from a woman, or +my lord from a scavenger? D'ee reckon that we'm all-fellows-to-football +aboard the _Virtuous Lady_, and the fo'c'sle hands mess aft?" + +"They would if you were consistent," answered Mr. Sam, with positiveness. + +She sighed impatiently. "There's times you make me long to wring your +stiff neck. But I'll take your own consistency, as you call it. +I don't notice you send that precious boy o' yourn to the Board School; +and yet if 'tis good enough for Clem and Myra, 'tis good enough for any +Rosewarne." + +"Calvin has received a superior education. Yet I don't mind telling you +that, if I find Miss Marvin competent, I propose asking her to teach him +privately." + +"O--oh!" Mrs. Purchase pursed up her lips and eyed him askance. +"Such a nice-looking girl, too!" + +Mr. Sam flushed beneath his sallow skin. He was about to command her +angrily to mind her own business, when the air between the hedgerows, and +even the road beneath his feet, shook with a dull and distant detonation. + +"Sakes alive!" cried Mrs. Purchase. "Don't tell me that's the +powder-ship, up the river!" + +"It didn't come up from the river--it came from Hall!" He gripped her arm +with sudden excitement; then, as she began to protest, "Don't talk, woman, +but help me along! It came from Hall, I tell you!" + + +Master Calvin defied Myra bravely enough while she threatened, and even +while she piled a little heap of gunpowder under the sycamore and +ostentatiously sprinkled a train of it across the roadway. He supposed +that she intended only to frighten him. + +Nor would any mischief have happened had he kept his perch. The heap of +gunpowder was too small to do serious damage--though he may well be +excused for misdoubting this. But when Myra struck a match and challenged +him for the last time, he called to her not to play the fool, and began to +scramble down for dear life. In truth, for two or three minutes he had +been feeling strangely giddy, and to make matters worse, was suddenly +conscious of a horrible burning pain in his side. + +So intolerable was the pain, that he clutched at it with one hand; and +missing his hold with the other, slipped and hung dangling over the +powder, supported only by the bough under the crook of his armpit. +At that instant, while he struggled to recover his balance, Myra was +horrified to see smoke curling about his jacket; a fiery shred of tobacco +and jacket-lining dropped from his plucking fingers. She had flung away +her match and was running forward--the burning stuff fell so slowly, there +was almost time to catch it--when the ground at her feet leapt up with a +flame and a bang, and Master Calvin thudded down upon the explosion. + +She ran to him. He was not dead, for at once he began screaming at the +pitch of his voice; but his features were black, his smallclothes torn, +and his legs writhed in a terrifying way. His screams sank to groans as +she beat out the smouldering fire in his jacket-lining; and for a while +she could get no other answer from him. By and by she lost patience, and +shook him by the shoulder. + +"Oh, get Up for goodness' sake! I believe you're more frightened than +hurt; but if you're really hurt, sit up and tell me what's the matter." + +"Let me alone," groaned Calvin. "I want to die." + +"Fiddlesticks--'want to die'! Come along to the pump and wash yourself." + +"You're a wicked girl! You tried to kill me!" + +"I didn't. I wanted to frighten you, and--and I'm sorry; but you fired +the powder yourself with your nasty pipe, and you've burnt a hole in your +pocket. You'd best come along and get washed and changed before your +father catches you. It looks to me you've lost one of your eyebrows, but +the other one's so pale I daresay 'twon't be noticed. Or I might give you +a pair with a piece of burnt cork." + +It was while she stood considering this that Mr. Sam and her aunt made +their appearance round the corner of the road. + +"Whatever in the round world have you children been doin'?" panted Mrs. +Purchase, and wound up with a gasp at sight of Calvin's face. + +"I believe I'm going to die!" The boy began to writhe again. + +"What has happened?" his father demanded, with a shake in the voice, +stooping to lift him. + +"She--she tried to kill me!" Calvin pointed at her with vindictive finger, +and at once clasped both hands over his stomach. + +"I did not," retorted Myra. + +"Ask her who brought the powder and laid a train right under me! Ask her +what she's doing with that box of matches!" + +"Is that true?" Mr. Sam demanded again, straightening himself up and +fixing a terrible stare on Myra. + +The girl's face hardened. "Yes, I brought the powder." She pointed to +the flask lying in the roadway. + +"You dare to tell me that you did this deliberately?" + +"I never did it at all." + +"Yes, she did!" almost screamed the boy. "She put the powder here; she +owns up to it." + +Myra shrugged her shoulders and turned away. "Very well; he's telling a +nasty fib, but you can believe him if you like." + +"Stop a minute, miss." Mr. Sam strode across to her. "You don't get off +in that fashion, I promise you!" + +She looked up at him sidewise, under lowered brows. "Are you going to +beat me?" she asked quietly. + +The question took Mr. Sam aback. "You deserve a whipping if ever a girl +did," he answered, after a second or two. "First, it seems, you almost +succeed in killing your cousin, and then you tell a falsehood about it." + +"I have told you the truth. I put the powder there. As for meaning to +kill him, that's nonsense, and he knows it. I didn't even mean to hurt +him, though he deserves it." + +"Deserves it!" echoed Mr. Sam. + +"Yes, for robbing Clem." + +"Sam--Sam!" Mrs. Purchase thrust herself between them. "What's the +matter? Don't go for to hurt the child!" + +"What--what does she mean, then?" He had stretched out a hand to grip +Myra by the shoulder, but fell back with a yellow face. + +"Tom Trevarthen told me." Myra pointed from father to son. "He says +you're no better than a pair of robbers." + +"Myra," said her aunt quietly, "go to your room at once. On your own +confession you have done wickedly, and must be punished." + +"Very well, Aunt Hannah." + +"I must attend to Calvin first; but I will come to you by and by. +Until then you are not to leave your room. Do you understand?" + +"Yes, Aunt Hannah." + +She turned and walked towards the house. + +"And now," said Mrs. Purchase, after a glance at Mr. Sam's face, +"let's see what bones are broken." + +She bent over Calvin, but looked up almost immediately, as Mr. Sam uttered +a sharp exclamation. + +"What's this?" he asked, stooping to pick up a briar pipe. + +Master Calvin blinked, and turned his head aside from Mrs. Purchase's +curious gaze. + +"I think it belongs to Tom Trevarthen," he mumbled. + +"How on the airth did Tom Trevarthen come to drop a pipe here, and walk +off 'ithout troubling to pick it up? If 'twas a hairpin, now," said Mrs. +Purchase, not very lucidly, "one could understand it." + +"I--I'm going to be ill," wailed the wretched Calvin, with a spasmodic +heave of the shoulders. + +"Well," his aunt commented grimly after a moment, "you told the truth that +time, anyway." + + +Having conveyed him to the house and put him, with Susannah's help, to +bed, Aunt Hannah went off to Myra's room, but descended after a few +minutes in search of Mr. Sam, whom she found pacing the garden walk. + +"Well?" he asked. + +"I've told her the punishment--bread and water, and to keep her room all +day. She says nothing against it, and I think she's sorry about the +powder; but I can get no sense into her until her mind's set at rest about +Clem." + +"What about him?" + +"Why, the poor child's left behind at the school." + +"Is that all? Miss Marvin will bring him home, no doubt." + +"So I told her. But it seems she don't trust Miss Marvin--hates her, in +fact." + +"The child must be crazed." + +"Couldn't you send Peter Benny?" + +"Oh, certainly, if you wish it." Mr. Sam went indoors to the +counting-house, where Mr. Benny jumped up from his desk in alarm at sight +of the bandages. + +"Mercy on us, sir--you have met with an accident?" + +"A trifle. Are you busy just now?" + +Mr. Benny blushed. "I might answer in your words sir--a trifle. +Indeed, I hope, sir, you will not think it a liberty; but the late Mr. +Rosewarne used very kindly to allow it when no business happened to be +doing." + +His employer stared at him blankly. + +"On birthdays and such occasions," pursued Mr. Benny. "And by the way, +sir, might I ask you to favour me with the date of your birthday? +Your dear father's was the 28th of May." Mr. Sam's stare lost its +blankness, and became one of sharp suspicion. + +"What have you to do with my birthday, pray?" + +"Nothing, sir--nothing, unless it pleases you. Some of our best and +greatest men, sir, as I am well aware--the late Duke of Wellington, for +instance--have had a distaste for poetry; not that my verses deserve any +such name." + +"Oh!" said Mr. Sam, his brow clearing, "you were talking of verses? +I've no objection, so long as you don't ask me to read them." He paused, +as Mr. Benny's face lengthened dejectedly. "I mean no reflection on +yours, Benny." + +"I thank you, sir." + +"Shakespeare--and I am told you can't get better poetry than +Shakespeare's--doesn't please me at all. I tried him once, on a friend's +recommendation, and came on a passage which I don't hesitate to call +lascivious. I told my friend so, and advised him to be more careful in +the reading he recommended. He was a minister of the gospel, too. +I destroyed the book: one can't be too careful, with children about the +house." + +"I assure you, sir--" + +"I don't suggest for a moment that you would be guilty of any such +expressions as Shakespeare uses. We live in a different age. +Still, poetry, as such, gives me no pleasure. I believe very firmly, +Benny--as you may have gathered--in another world, and that we shall be +held strictly to account there for all we do or say in this one." + +"Yes, sir." + +"If you will wait a moment, I have a note to write. You will deliver it, +please, to Mrs. Trevarthen on your way home. But first I wish you to walk +up to the school and fetch Master Clem." + +Mr. Benny, absorbed in poetical composition, had either failed to hear the +explosion at the gate, or had heard and paid no heed to it. He wondered +why Master Clem should need to be fetched from school. + +"And Miss Myra?" he suggested. + +"Miss Myra has been sent to her room in disgrace," said Mr. Sam. + +Mr. Benny asked no further questions, but pocketed the letter which Mr. +Sam indited, and fetched his hat. As it happened, however, at the gate he +met Hester leading Clem by the hand; and receiving the child from her, +handed him over to Susannah. + +"You are going home?" he asked, as he rejoined Hester at the gate. +They were already warm friends. + +"I am on my way. And you?" + +"We'll cross the ferry together, if you'll wait a moment while I deliver a +note at Mrs. Trevarthen's." + +Mrs. Trevarthen was at her door. She took the note, and, before opening +it, looked at Hester curiously. + +"You know what's inside of it, I reckon?" she said, turning to Mr. Benny. + +"Not a word." + +"My eyes are bad," said Mrs. Trevarthen, who, as a matter of fact, could +not read. + +Mr. Benny knew this, and knew also that Mrs. Trevarthen as a rule employed +Aunt Butson to write her few letters and decipher the few that came to +her. + +"The light's bad for the time of year," he said. "Shall I read it for +you, missus?" + +"No; let _her_ read it," answered the old woman, holding out the letter to +Hester. Hester took it and read-- + + "Madam,--This is to inform you that the rent of my cottage, at present + occupied by you on a monthly tenancy at 9 pounds per annum, will from + the first of next month be raised to 15 pounds per annum; also that + the tenancy will not, after that date, carry with it a permission to + let lodgings.--Yours truly, S. ROSEWARNE." + + +In the silence that followed Mrs. Trevarthen fixed her bright beady eyes +steadily on Hester. "You've driven forth my son from me," she said at +length, "and you're driving forth my lodger, and there's nobbut the +almshouse left. Never a day's worry has my son Tom given to me, and never +a ha'p'orth o' harm have we done to you. A foreigner you are and a +stranger; the lad made me promise not to curse 'ee, and I won't. But get +out of my sight, and the Lord deliver us from temptation!--Amen." + +Poor Mr. Benny, who had written half a dozen enthusiastic verses on the +opening of the new school, crushed them down in his pocket. He had been +so proud of them, too! + +They ran-- + + "This morning the weather was wreathed in smiles. + And we, correspondingly gay, + Assembled together from several miles + To welcome our Opening Day." + + "The children were plastic in body and mind. + Their faces and pinafores clean; + And persons scholastic, in accents refined. + With eloquence pointed the scene." + + "Blest scene! as its features we fondly recall, + Come let us give thanks to the Lord! + The Parents, the Teacher, the Managers all, + Including the Clerk to the Board!" + + + + +BOOK III. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + + +AUNT BUTSON CLOSES SCHOOL. + +Next morning when Hester arrived at the school she found Mr. Sam waiting +for her, with Myra, Clem, and a lanky, freckled youth of about sixteen, +whom he introduced as Archelaus Libby. She could not help a smile at this +odd name, and the young man himself seemed to be conscious of its +absurdity. He blushed, held out his hand and withdrew it again, dropped +his hat and caught it awkwardly between his knees. Myra (who had made the +sign of the cross as Hester entered) stood and regarded him with a cold, +contemptuous interest. Her uncle presented the poor fellow with a +proprietary wave of the hand, as though he had been a dumb animal recently +purchased. + +"I telegraphed to Liskeard on my own responsibility. The Managers may +take me to task; but I felt it to be imperative that you should have a +male teacher to support you, and at once. At all costs we must prevent a +repetition of such scenes as yesterday's." + +Doubtless he had done Hester a service, and she tried to express her +thanks, but did not succeed very well. To begin with, her spirit being +roused, she desired no help; and to judge by Mr. Archelaus Libby's looks, +the help he could give promised to be ineffective. She did not say this, +of course; and he gazed at her so wistfully that she reproached herself +for thinking it. + +Mr. Sam had no such scruples. "I telegraphed to Liskeard," he repeated. +"There was no time for a personal interview." (He paused, with a +deprecating wave of the hand, as who shall say, "And this is what they +sent.") "If," he continued, "you find him unequal to maintaining +discipline, we--ha--must take other steps. In other respects I find him +satisfactory. He tells me he is of the Baptist persuasion, a believer in +Total Immersion." + +Hester saw Myra's mouth twitching. She herself broke into merry laughter. + +"I hope it won't be necessary to go that length," she answered. +"We will do our best, at any rate." She held out her hand again, and +Archelaus Libby grasped it warmly. + + +On the whole, Archelaus Libby's best proved to be better than she had +expected. The boys made a butt of him from the beginning, but could get +no real advantage over one who laughed with them at his own discomfitures. +He belonged to those meek ones who (it is promised) shall inherit the +earth; and indeed, as the possessor of a two-guinea microscope--bought, as +he explained to Hester, with his first earnings--he believed himself to +inherit it already. This microscope, and the wonders he showed them under +it, earned no little respect from the children. Also he had, without +being aware of it, an extraordinary gift of mental arithmetic, and would +rattle out the quotients of long compound division sums at alarming speed +and with a rapid clicking sound at the back of his throat, as though some +preternatural machinery were at work there. But most of all he conquered +by sheer love of his kind and of every living creature. The lad seemed to +brim over with love: he never arrived at forgiving anyone, being incapable +of believing that anyone meant to offend. From the first he yielded to +Hester a canine devotion which was inconvenient because it rendered him +dumb. + +Within a week Hester felt sure of herself and of the school, and confided +her joy to Mr. Benny, who always met her at the ferry and accompanied her +home to tea; for she was now installed as a lodger with the Benny +household, greatly to Nuncey's delight. After tea Mr. Benny always +withdrew to a little office overhanging the tideway; a wooden, felt-roofed +shed in which he earned money from 6.30 to 8.30 p.m. by writing letters +for seamen. In this interval the two girls walked or bathed, returning in +time to put the children to bed and help Mrs. Benny with the supper. +They talked much, but seldom about the school--all the cares of which +Hester left behind her at the ferry crossing. + +"And that's what I like about you," Nuncey confided. "You don't give +yourself airs like other schoolmistresses." + +"How many others do you know?" asked Hester. + +"None; but I know what I'm talkin' about. You know more about poetry and +such-like than Dad; I daresay you know as much as Uncle Josh; and yet no +one would think it, to look at you." + +"Thank you." Hester dropped her a curtsey. "And who is Uncle Josh?" + +"He's Dad's brother, and well known in London. I believe he writes for +the papers; 'connected with the press'--that's how Dad puts it. +When Dad writes a poem he hasn't time to polish it; so he sends it up to +Uncle Josh, and it comes back beautifully polished by return of post. +Now do you know what I want?" asked Nuncey, falling back and eyeing her. + +"What?" + +"Guess." + +"Really I can't." Hester knew by this time that Nuncey's thoughts moved +without apparent connection. + +"I want to see you out of mourning--well, in half-mourning, then. +It ought to be pale grey, and there's a lilac ribbon in Bonaday's shop at +this moment. You needn't pretend you don't care about these things, for +I know better." + +After supper, and on their way to and from the ferry, Mr. Benny would talk +readily enough about the school. But on one point--the tribulation it was +bringing upon Aunt Butson--he kept silence; for the thought of it made him +unhappy. He knew that Hester was innocent, but he could not wholly acquit +himself of complicity in the poor old woman's fate. Mr. Benny had a +troublesome and tender conscience in all matters that concerned his duty +towards his neighbour. The School Board was driving Mrs. Butson out of +employ, taking away her scanty earnings; and he was Clerk to the School +Board. To be sure, if he resigned to-morrow, another man would take his +place, and Mrs. Butson be not one penny the better. Mr. Benny saw this, +yet it did not ease his conscience wholly. + +Hester, too, kept silence. Her way to the school led her past the little +shanty (originally a carpenter's workshop) in which Aunt Butson taught. +It stood a stone's-throw back from the village street, partly concealed by +a clump of elms; but once or twice she had heard and spied children at +play between the trees there--children with faces unfamiliar to her--and +gathered that the old woman still kept her door open. As the days went by +the date for raising Mrs. Trevarthen's rent, and the cottage still showed +every sign of habitation, she took it for granted that Mr. Sam had +relented--possibly in obedience to his promise not to persecute the young +sailor. She did not know that, in serving his notice without consulting +Peter Benny, Mr. Sam had made a trifling mistake; that Mrs. Trevarthen +held her cottage on a quarterly tenancy, and could neither have her rent +raised nor be evicted before Michaelmas. Hester would have been puzzled +to say precisely what sealed her lips from inquiry. Partly, no doubt, she +shrank from discovering a fresh obligation to Mr. Sam, whose unctuous +handshake she was learning to detest. Tom Trevarthen had disappeared. +His mother kept house unmolested. Why not let sleeping dogs lie? +For the rest, the school absorbed most of her thoughts, and paid back +interest in cheerfulness. The children were beginning to show signs of +loyalty, and a teacher who has won loyalty has won everything. Myra alone +stood aloof, sullen, impervious to kindness. + +In truth, Myra was suffering. For the first time in their lives her will +and Clem's had come into conflict; and Clem's revealed itself as +unexpectedly, almost hopelessly, stubborn. That the _Virtuous Lady_ had +sailed for Quebec, carrying away Aunt Hannah, the one other person in the +world who understood her, made little difference. A hundred Aunt Hannahs +could not console her for this loss--for a loss she called it. +"The woman is taking him from me!" She cried the words aloud to herself +on her lonely walks, making the cattle in the fields, the horses in the +stable, the small greyhound, even the fields and trees, confidants in her +woe. "She is stealing you from me," she reproached Clem; "and you can't +see that she is a witch! You don't love me any longer!" "I love you +better than ever," protested poor Clem. "No, you don't, or you would +choose between us. Say 'I hate her!'" But Clem shook his head. +"I don't hate her; and besides, she isn't a witch." + +She had been forbidden to speak to Calvin for a week. "My dear man," she +answered Mr. Sam, to his no small astonishment, "do you think _I_ want to +talk to the pimply creature? He tells fibs; and besides, he's a robber." + +"You are a wicked child; and if you persist in this talk, I shall have to +punish you." + +"Are you going to beat me? Beat away. But it's true." + +He did not beat her; but one day, meeting Hester on the hill as she walked +to school, he went so far as to suggest that Myra's spirit needed taming. +She had been allowed to run loose, and her behaviour at home caused him +many searchings of heart. He made no doubt that her behaviour in school +was scarcely more satisfactory. + +Hester admitted that he surmised correctly. + +He had never been blessed with a daughter of his own, and hardly knew what +to do with an unruly girl. Might he leave the matter in Miss Marvin's +hands? + +"If," said Hester, "you are speaking of her behaviour in school, you +certainly may. She is jealous, poor child, because her brother has taken +a fancy to be fond of me. In her place I should be furious. But I think +we are going to be friends." + +"Some form of punishment--if I might suggest--" + +"I don't know of any that meets the case," Hester answered gravely. + +"I have often,"--he fastened on her that gaze of his which she most of all +disliked--"I have oftentimes, of late especially, felt even Calvin to be a +responsibility, without a mother's care." He went on from this to the +suggestion he had hinted to Mrs. Purchase. Would Miss Marvin be prepared +(for an honorarium) to give his son private lessons? Could she afford the +time? "I shrink from exposing him to influences, so often malign, of a +boarding-school. What I should most of all desire for him is a steady, +sympathetic home influence, a--may I say it?--a motherly influence." + +Hester at this moment, averting her eyes, was aware of an old woman a few +yards away, coming up the road; a woman erect as a soldier, with strong, +almost mannish features, and eyes that glared at her fiercely from under a +washed-out blue sunbonnet. Mr. Sam gave her good-morning as she went by, +but she neither answered nor seemed to hear him. + +"Who is she?" Hester had almost asked, when the woman turned aside into a +path leading to the shed among the elms. + +"She'll have to shut up shop next week," said Mr. Sam, following Hester's +gaze. "I declare, Miss Marvin, one would think the old woman had +ill-wished you, by the way you are staring after her. Don't believe in +witchcraft, I hope?" + +"I have never seen her till now, and I do feel sorry for her." + +"She's not fit to teach, and never was." + +"She's setting me a lesson in punctuality, at any rate," said Hester, +forcing a little laugh, glad of an excuse to end the conversation. +But along the road and at intervals during the first and second +lesson-hours the face of Mrs. Butson haunted her. + +In the hour before dinner, while she sat among the little ones correcting +their copy-books, the door-latch clicked, and she looked up with a start-- +to see the woman herself standing upon the threshold! Archelaus Libby, +who had been chalking on the blackboard at lightning speed a line of +figures for his mental arithmetic class, turned to announce them, and +paused with a click in his throat which seemed to answer that of the +latch. In the sudden hush Hester felt her cheek paling. Somehow she +missed the courage with which she had met Tom Trevarthen. + +"Good-morning!" said Mrs. Butson harshly. "'Tisn't forbidden to come in, +I hope?" + +"Good-morning," Hester found voice to answer. "You may come in, and +welcome, if you wish us well." + +"I'm Sarah Butson. As for wishing well or ill to 'ee, we'll leave that +alone. I've come to listen, not to interrup'." She advanced into the +room and pointed a finger at Archelaus Libby. "Is that your male teacher? +He bain't much to look at, but I'm told he's terrible for sums." + +"You shall judge for yourself. Go on with your lesson, Archelaus; and +you, Mrs. Butson, take a seat if you will." + +"No; I'll stand." Mrs. Butson shut her jaws firmly and treated the small +scholars around her to a fierce, unwavering stare. Many winced, +remembering her mercies of old. "Go on, young man," she commanded +Archelaus. + +He plunged into figures again, nervously at first. Soon he recovered his +volubility, and, calling on one of the elder boys to name two rows of +figures for division, wrote them out and dashed down the quotient; then +flung in the working at top speed, showing how the quotient was obtained; +next rubbed out all but the original divisor and dividend, and, swinging +round upon the boys, raced them through the sum, his throat clicking as he +appealed from one boy to another, urging them to answer faster and faster +yet. "Yes, yes--but try to multiply in double figures--twice sixteen, +thirty-two: it's no harder than four times eight--the tables don't really +stop at twelve times. Now then--seventy-eight into three-twenty-six? +You--you--you--what's that, Sunny Pascoe? Four times? Right--how many +over? Fourteen. Now then, bring down the next figure, and that makes the +new dividend." + +Mrs. Butson passed her hand over Hester's desk. "You keep 'em well +dusted," she observed, turning her back upon Archelaus and his +calculations. Her angry-looking eyes travelled over desks, floor, walls, +and the maps upon the walls, then back to the children. + +"How many?" she asked. + +"We have sixty-eight on the books." + +"How many here to-day?" + +"Sixty-six. There are two absent, with certificates. Would you like me +to call the roll?" + +"No. You've got 'em in hand, too, I see." She picked up a copy-book from +the desk before her, examined it for a moment, and laid it down. +"You like this work?" she asked, turning her eyes suddenly upon Hester. + +"How else could one do it at all?" + +"I hate it--yes, hate it," the old woman went on. "Though 'twas my +living, I've hated it always. Yet I taught 'em well--you cross the ferry +and ask schoolmaster Penrose if I did not. I taught 'em well; but you +beat me--fair and square you do. Only there'll come a time--I warn you-- +when the hope and pride'll die out of you, and you'll wake an' wonder how +to live out the day. I don't know much, but I know that time must come to +all teachers. They never can tell when 'tis coming. After some holiday, +belike, it catches 'em sudden. The new lot of children be no worse than +the last, but they get treated worse because the teacher's come to end of +tether. You take my advice and marry before that time comes." + +"I don't think I shall ever marry." + +"Oh yes, you will!" Aunt Butson's eyes seemed to burn into Hester's. +"You're driving me out to work in the fields; but, marry or not, you'll +give me all the revenge I look for." The old woman hunched her shoulders +and made abruptly for the door. As it slammed behind her a weight seemed +to fall upon Hester's heart and a sudden shadow across her day. + + +Down in the little cottage Aunt Butson found Mrs. Trevarthen standing +beside a half-filled packing-case and contemplating a pair of enormous +china spaniels which adorned the chimney-piece, one on either side of +Chinese junk crusted with sea-shells. + +"What's to be done with 'em?" Mrs. Trevarthen asked. "They'll take up +more room than they're worth, and I doubt they'll fetch next to nothing if +I leave 'em behind for the sale. My old man got 'em off a pedlar fellow +for two-and-threepence apiece, back-along when we first set up house. +A terrible extravagance, as I told 'en at the time; but he took such a +fancy to the things, I never had the heart to say what I thought about +their looks." + +"You can leave 'em bide," answered Aunt Butson. "Unpack that there case +agen an' turn it over to me. I'm goin' to quit." + +"There's too much red-tape about the Widows' Houses," Mrs. Trevarthen +pursued. "The Matron says, if I want to bring Tom's parrot, I must speak +to Sir George an get leave: 'tis agen the rules, seemingly." + +"Be quiet with your parrot, an' listen to me! I'm goin' to shut up +school, an' quit. Go an' make your peace wi' that Judas Rosewarne: tell +'en you're gettin' the rids of me, an' he'll let you down easy enough." + +Mrs. Trevarthen for a moment did not seem to hear, but stood meditatively +fingering the china ornaments. Suddenly she swung round upon her lodger. + +"You're goin' to give in? After all your talk, you're goin' to let that +slave-driver ride roughshod over you?" + +"My dear,"--Aunt Butson hunched her shoulders--"'tis no manner of good. +Who's goin' to pay me tuppence a week, when that smooth-featured girl up +the hill teaches ten times better for a penny? I've been up there to see, +and I ben't a fool. She teaches ten times better than ever I did in my +life. How many children do 'ee think turned up this mornin'? Five. +And I've taught five-an'-thirty at one time. I sent 'em away; told 'em to +come again to-morrow, and take word to their fathers and mothers to step +around at twelve o'clock. They'll think 'tis to come to an arrangement +about the fees; but what I have to tell is that the school's wound up." + +"You may do as it pleases you, Sally Butson. You may go, if you choose, +and ask Rosewarne to put his foot on your neck. But if you think I make +any terms with 'en, you're mistaken. He've a-driven my Tom from home an' +employ; he've a-cast a good son out o' my sight and knowledge, and fo'ced +'en, for all I know, into wicked courses--for Tom's like his father before +'en; you can lead 'en by a thread, but against ill-usage he'll turn mad. +Will I forgive Rosewarne for this? He may put out the fire in my grate +and fling my bed into the street, and I'll laugh and call it a little +thing; but for what he've a-done to the son of a widow I'll put on him the +curse of a widow, and not all his wrath shall buy it off by an ounce or +shorten it by one inch." + +Mrs. Trevarthen--ordinarily a mild-tempered woman--shook with her passion +as an aspen shakes and whitens in the wind. Aunt Butson laid a hand on +her shoulder. + +"There--there! Put on the kettle, my dear, and let's have a drink of tea. +It takes a woman different when she've a-got children. But it don't +follow, because I'm a single woman, I can't read a lad's fortune. +You mark my words, Tom'll fall on his feet." + + +Early next morning Mrs. Butson left the cottage with a small pile of +books, disinterred from the depths of the box which contained all her +belongings--cheap books in gaudy covers of red, blue, and green cloth, +lavishly gilded without, execrably printed within: _The Wide, Wide World; +Caspar; Poor John, or Nature's Gentleman; The Parents' Assistant_. +Her system of education recognised merit, but rewarded it sparingly. +As a rule, she had distributed three prizes per annum, before the +Christmas holidays, and at a total cost of two shillings and sixpence. +To-day she spread out no fewer than ten upon her desk, covering them out +of sight with a duster before her scholars arrived. + +A few minutes before nine she heard them at play outside among the elms, +and at nine o'clock punctually called them in to work by ringing her +handbell--the clapper of which (vain extravagance!) had recently been +shortened by the village tinsmith to prevent its wearing the metal +unequally. Five scholars answered its summons--'Thaniel Langmaid, Maudie +Hosken, Ivy Nancarrow, Jane Ann Toy and her four-year-old brother Luke. +Their fathers, one and all, though dwelling in the village, were employed +in trades on the other side of the ferry, and therefore could risk +offending Mr. Rosewarne; but their independence had not yet translated +itself into steady payment of the fees, and Mr. Toy (for example) +notoriously practised dilatoriness of payment as part of his scheme of +life. + +Without a twitch of her fierce features she ranged up her attenuated +class, distributed the well-thumbed books--with a horn-book for little +Luke Toy--and for two hours taught them with the same joyless severity +under which their fathers and mothers had suffered. For spelling 'lamb' +without the final b, Ivy Nancarrow underwent the punishment invariably +meted out for such errors--mounted the dunce's bench, and wore the dunce's +cap; nor did 'Thaniel Langmaid's knuckles escape the ruler when he dropped +a blot upon his copy, 'Comparisons are Odious'--a proposition of which he +understood the meaning not at all. The cane and the birch-rod on Mrs. +Butson's desk served her now but as insignia. She had not wielded them as +weapons of justice since the day (four years ago) when a struggle with Ivy +Nancarrow's elder brother had taught her that her natural strength was +abating. + +At twelve o'clock she told the children to close their books, dismissed +them to play, and sat down to await the invited company. + +Mr. Toy was the first to arrive. He came straight from the jetties--that +is to say, as straight as a stevedore can be expected to come at noon on +Saturday, after receiving his week's pay. He wore his accustomed mask of +clay-dust, and smelt powerfully of beer, two pints of which he had +consumed in an unsocial hurry at the Ferry Inn on his way. + +"Good-morning." Mrs. Butson welcomed him with a nod. "Your wife is +coming, I hope?" + +"You bet she is," Mr. Toy answered cheerfully, smacking the coins in his +trousers pocket. "She don't miss looking me up this day of the week." +Recollecting that certain of the shillings he so lightly jingled were due +to Mrs. Butson, he suddenly grew confused, and his embarrassment was not +lightened by the entrance of Maudie Hosken's parents. Mr. Hosken tilled a +small freehold garden in his spare hours, and Mr. Toy owed him four +shillings and sixpence for potatoes, and had reason to believe that Mrs. +Hosken took a stern view of the debt. + +Next came Mrs. Langmaid, a seaman's widow, and lastly Mrs. Toy, who noted +that all the others had made themselves tidy for the ceremony, and at once +began to apologise for her husband's appearance. + +Aunt Butson cut her short, however, by ringing the school bell, and +marshalling her five pupils back to their seats. The parents dropped +themselves here and there among the many empty benches in the rear, and +the schoolmistress, after rapping the desk with her cane, from force of +habit, mounted the platform, uncovered the row of books, and began to +arrange them with hands that trembled a little. + +"Friends and neighbours, the reason I've called 'ee together is for a +prize-giving. I'll have to say a word or two when that's done; but just +now a prize-giving it is, and we'd best get to business. Girls: Maudie +Hosken, first prize for good conduct; Ivy Nancarrow, consolation prize, +ditto; Jane Ann Toy, extra consolation prize, ditto. Step up, girls, and +take your books." + +Until Mrs. Hosken leaned forward and nudged her daughter in the back, the +children did not budge, so bewildered were they by these sudden awards. +When Maudie, however, picked up courage, the other two bravely bore her +company, and each received a book. + +"Boys: 'Thaniel Langmaid, first prize for good conduct; Luke Toy, +consolation prize for ditto." + +"Seemin' to me," remarked Mr. Toy audibly, nudging his wife, "there's a +deal o' consolation for our small family." + +"Hush!" answered his wife. "There's as much gilt 'pon Lukey's book as +'pon any; an' 'tis almost as big." + +"Girls: English prize, Ivy Nancarrow--and I hope that in futur', whoever +teaches her, she won't think L-A-M spells 'lamb.' Sums and geography +prize, Maudie Hosken; junior prize, Jane Ann Toy." + +"Boys: General knowledge, 'Thaniel Langmaid; general improvement, Luke +Toy." + +"That makes four altogether." Mr. Toy jingled his shillings furtively. +"Look here, Selina," he whispered, "we'll have to pay the old 'ooman +something on account. How else to get out o' this, I don't see." + +"An' now, friends an' neighbours," began Aunt Butson resolutely, +"I've a-fetched 'ee together to say that 'tis all over; the school's come +to an end. You've stuck by me while you could, and I thank you kindly. +But 'tis hard for one of my age to fight with tyrants, and tyrants and +Government together be too much for me. I've a-taught this here village +for getting-up three generations. Lord knows I never loved the work; but +Lord knows I was willing to go on with it till He called me home. +Take a look at thicky there blackboard an' easel, bought but the other +week; and here's a globe now, cost me fifteen shillin'--an' what'll I do +with it?" She detached it from its frame, and before passing it round for +inspection, held it between her trembling palms. "Here be all the nations +o' the earth, civilised and uncivilised; and here be I, Sarah Butson, with +no place upon it, after next Monday, to lay my head." + +She looked up with fierce, tearless eyes, and looking up, caught sight of +Mr. Samuel Rosewarne in the doorway. + +"Oh, good-morning, Mrs. Butson!" nodded Mr. Sam easily. "I looked in to +see if you'd collected your school-fees this week, as the law requires. +You are doing so, it seems?" + +"Rosewarne--" Mrs. Butson stepped down from her platform, globe in hand. + +"Eh? I beg your pardon?" But before the mischief in her eyes he turned +and fled. + +She followed him to the door. + +"Take _that_, you thievin' Pharisee!" + +The globe missed his head by a few inches, and went flying down the +roadway toward the ferry. Aunt Butson strode back among her astonished +audience. + +"That's my last word to _he_," she said, panting; "and here's my last to +you." She picked up her chalk, advanced to the blackboard, and wrote +rapidly, in bold, clear hand-- + + BLAST ALL EDUCATION! + +"You may go, friends," said she. "I'd like to be alone, if you please." + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + + +PETER BENNY'S DISMISSAL. + +Although Master Calvin Rosewarne, by telling tales, first set the +persecution going against Nicky Vro, he did so without any special +malevolence. It was an instance of Satan's finding mischief for idle +hands. The child, in fact, had no playmates, and little to do; and +happening to pass Mrs. Trevarthen's cottage as her household stuff and +sticks of furniture were being removed in a hand-cart, he followed +downhill to the ferry to watch the transhipment. + +Some minutes later, Mrs. Trevarthen, having locked her door for the +last time, laid the key under a geranium-pot on the window-sill. +There was no sentiment in her leave-taking. A few late blossoms showed on +the jasmine which, from a cutting planted by her in the year of Tom's +birth, had over-run and smothered the cottage to its very chimney. +Her Michaelmas daisies and perennial phloxes--flowers of her anxious +care--were in full bloom. But the old soul had no eyes for them, now at +the last, being flustered by the importance of her journey and the thought +of many things, hastily packed, which might take harm in crossing the +ferry. Mr. Toy (a neighbourly fellow with all his failings, and one of +that not innumerous class of men who delight in any labour, so it be +unprofitable) had undertaken to load the ferry-boat; but having in mere +exuberance of good-nature imbibed more beer than was good for him, he +could not be trusted with the chinaware. + +Neighbours appeared at every doorway--the more emotional ones with red +eyes--to wish Mrs. Trevarthen good-bye. She answered them tremulously; +but her mind, all the way down the street, ran on a hamper of chinaware, +the cover of which she could not remember to have tied. Her left arm +rested in Aunt Butson's (who carried the parrot's cage swathed in an old +petticoat); on her right she bore a covered basket. + +At the slip Mr. Toy handed her on board. He himself would cross later in +the horse-boat, with his handcart and the heavier luggage. + +"Better count the parcels, missus," he advised. "There's fifteen, as I +make out; and Mr. Vro'll hand 'em out careful 'pon t'other side. +You'd best wait there till I come across with the rest." + +Instead of taking her seat at once, Mrs. Trevarthen stood for a moment +bewildered amid the packages crowding the thwarts and the sternsheets; and +most unfortunately Old Vro selected this moment to thrust off from shore +with his paddle. The impetus took her at unawares, and she fell forward; +her basket struck against the boat's gunwale, its cover flew open, and +forth from it, half-demented with fright, sprang her tabby cat, +Methuselah. The poor brute lit upon the parrot's cage, which happened to +be balanced upon an unstable pile of cooking utensils at the end of Nicky +Vro's thwart. Cat, cage and parrot, a gridiron, two cake tins, a bundle +of skewers, and a cullender, went overboard in one rattling avalanche, and +Master Calvin laughed aloud from the shore. + +Nicky Vro, with a wild clutch, grabbed hold of the cage before it sank, +and dragged it and the screaming bird out of danger. The gridiron and +skewers went down at once--luckily in four feet of water, whence they +could be recovered at low-ebb. The cullender sank slowly and with +dignity. The cat headed straight for shore, and, defying all attempts of +Mr. Toy and Aunt Butson to head him off, slipped between them and dashed +up the hill on a bee-line for home. Master Calvin, seated astride the low +wall above the slipway, almost rolled off his perch with laughter. +Uncle Vro, cage in hand, turned on him with sudden fury. + +"Better fit you was at your lessons," he called back, shaking his fist, +"than grinning there at your father's dirty work! Toy, run an' pull the +ears of 'en!--'twon't be noticed if you pull 'em an inch longer than they +be." + +The boy, as Mr. Toy ran towards him with a face that meant business, +dropped off the wall on its far side, and charged up the hill for home in +a terror scarcely less urgent than Methuselah's. Nor did he feel safe +until, at the gate of Hall, he tumbled into his father's arms and panted +out his story. + + +"Talked about my 'dirty work,' did he?" mused Mr. Sam, pulling at his +under-lip. He wheeled about and walked straight to the counting-house, +where Mr. Benny sat addressing Michaelmas bills. + +"Put those aside for a moment," he commanded. "I want a letter written." + +Mr. Benny took a sheet of notepaper from the rack, dipped his pen, and +looked up attentively. + +"It's for the ferryman below here--Old Vro, as you call him. Write that +after Saturday next his services will not be required." + +Mr. Benny laid down his pen slowly and stared at his master. + +"I beg your pardon, sir--you can't mean that you're dismissing him?" + +"Why not?" + +"What, old Nicky Vro?" Mr. Benny shook his head, as much as to say that +the thing could not be done. + +"He has been grossly impudent. Apart from that, his incompetence is a +scandal, and I have wondered more than once how my father put up with it. +In justice to the public using the ferry, and to Lady Killiow as owner of +the ferry rights--But, excuse me, I prefer not to argue the matter. +He must go. Will you, please, write the letter, and deliver it when you +cross the ferry at dinner-time." + +"But, indeed, Mr. Samuel--you must forgive me, sir--old Nicky may be +cantankerous at times, but he means no harm to any living soul. +The passengers make allowances: he's a part of the ferry, as you might +say. As for impudence--if he really has been impudent--will you let me +talk to him, sir? I'll engage he asks pardon and promises not to offend +again. But think, before in your anger you turn him adrift--where can the +old man go, but to the workhouse? What can he have saved, on twelve +shillings a week? For every twelve shillings he's earned Lady Killiow +three to five pounds, week by week, these forty years; and not one penny +of it, I'll undertake to say, has he kept back from her ladyship. +What wage is it, after all, for the years of a man's strength that now, +with a few more years to live, he should lose it?" + +"Have you done?" + +Mr. Benny stood up. "I should never have done, sir, until you listened to +me." + +"You refuse to write the letter?" + +"I humbly beg you, sir, not to ask me to write it." + +"But I do ask you to write it." + +Mr. Benny thrust both hands nervously beneath his coat-tails, walked to +the window and stood for a second or two, staring out upon the garden. +His cheeks were flushed. He had arrived at one of those moments in life +which prove a man; but of heroism he was not conscious at all. + +"I am very sorry, Mr. Samuel," said he, turning again to the table. +"If your father had told me to write such a letter, I should have used an +old servant's liberty and warned him that he was acting unjustly. +Though it made him angry, he would have understood. But I see, sir, that +I have no right to argue with you; and so let us have no more words. +I cannot write what you wish." + +"My father," answered Mr. Sam, wagging a finger at him, "tolerated many +things I do not propose to tolerate. He suffered this old dotard to annoy +the public, though long past work. I am not surprised to learn that he +suffered you to forget your place." + +Mr. Benny gathered up his papers without answering. + +"Look here, Benny," Mr. Sam resumed, after watching him for a while, +"I don't wish to be hard on you; I only require obedience. It's a bit +foolish of you--eh?--to be quarrelling with your bread and butter." + +"May be, sir." + +"If you leave me, I wish it to be understood that 'tis by your own +choice." + +The little man met his master's eyes now with a look of something like +contempt. "If that salves your conscience, sir, by all means have it so. +But if 'tis to be plain truth between us, you want a younger clerk." + +"Did I ever complain of your incompetence?" + +"My incompetence, sir? 'Tis my competence you surely mean? I reckon no +man can be sure of being a good servant till he has learnt to advise for +his master's good against his master's will." + + +"What's the matter with 'ee, Peter?" asked Nicky Vro as he rowed Mr. Benny +across the ferry at dinnertime. "You're looking as downcast as a gib +cat." + +"I was wondering," answered Mr. Benny gently, "how many times we two have +crossed this ferry together." + +Nicky Vro pondered. "Now that's the sort o' question I leave alone o' set +purpose, and I'll tell 'ee for why. One night, years ago, and just as we +was off to bed, my poor wife says to me, 'I wonder how many times you've +crossed the ferry, first and last.' 'Hundreds and thousands,' I says, +just like _so_. She'd a-put the question in idleness, an' in idleness I +answered it. Will you believe it?--between twelve and one in the morning +I woke up with my head full o' figgers. Not another wink o' sleep could I +get, neither. Soon as ever I shook up the bolster an' settled down for +another try, I see'd myself whiskin' back and forth over this here piece +o' water like a piston-rod in a steamship, and off I started countin' for +dear life. Count? I tell you it lasted for nights, and by the end o' the +week I had to see the doctor about it. I was losin' flesh. Doctor, he +gave me a bottle o' trade--very flat-tasted stuff it was, price half a +crown, with a sediment if you let it stand; and after a few days the +trouble wore off. They tell me there's a new pupil teacher up to the +school can answer questions like that while you're countin' his buttons. +I've seen the fellow: a pigeon-chested poor creatur', with his calves put +on the wrong way. I'd a mind to tell 'en that with figgers, as with other +walks o' life, a man's first business is to look after his own. +But I didn't like to, he looked so harmless. Puttin' one thing with +another, Peter Benny, I'd advise you to leave these speckilations alone. +Be it a thousand times or ten thousand, there's only one time that counts +--the last; and only the Lord A'mighty knows when that'll be." + +Mr. Benny sighed. "When the Lord sets a man free of his labour, Nicky, +He does it gently. But we have to deal with an earthly master, we two, +and his mercies aren't so gentle." + +Nicky Vro nodded. "You'm thinkin' of they two poor souls up the hill. +A proper tyrant Mister Sam can be, and so I told that ugly-featured boy of +his, when I put Mrs. Trevarthen across this mornin'. 'Twas a shame, too, +to lose my temper with the cheeld; for a cat couldn't help laughin'-- +supposin' he wasn't the partickler cat consarned." The old man told the +story, chuckling wheezily. + +"You went too far, Nicky. I have the best reasons for knowing that you +went too far. Now listen to me. As soon as you get back, hitch up your +boat, walk straight up to Hall, and tell Mr. Sam that you're sorry." + +"Well, so I am in a way, though the fellow do turn my stomach. +Still there wasn' no sense in rappin' out on the boy." + +"It doesn't help the old woman, you know," said Mr. Benny, and sighed +again, bethinking himself how vain had been his own protest. + +"Not a bit," assented Mr. Vro cheerfully. "Well, I'll go back and make it +up with the varmint. I reckon he means to give me a bad few minutes; but +'tis foolish to quarrel when folks can't do without one another, and so +I'll tell 'en." + + +Half an hour ago Mr. Benny had been a brave man, but as he neared his home +a sudden cowardice seized him. It was not that he shirked breaking the +news to his wife; nay, he fiercely desired to tell her, and get the worst +over. But in imagination he saw the children seated around the table, all +hungry as hunters for the meal which, under God's grace, he had never yet +failed to earn; and the thought that they might soon hunger and not be +fed, for a moment unmanned him. He hurried past the ope leading to his +door. The dinner-hour's quiet rested on the little town, and there was no +one in the street to observe him as he halted by the church-gate, +half-minded to return. The gate stood open, and as he glanced up at the +tower the clock there rang out its familiar chime. He passed up the path, +entered, and cast himself on his knees. + +For half an hour he knelt, and, although he prayed but by fits and starts, +by degrees peace grew within him and possessed his soul. He waited until +the clock struck two--by which time the children would be back at school-- +and walked resolutely homeward. + +Mrs. Benny and Nuncey were alone in the kitchen, where the board had been +cleared of all but the tablecloth and his own knife and fork. They cried +out together upon his dilatoriness; but while his wife turned to fetch his +dinner from the oven, Nuncey took a step forward, scanning his face. + +"Father?" + +He put out a hand as he dropped into his seat, and stared along the empty +table. + +"I am dismissed." + +Mrs. Benny faced about, felt for a chair, and sat down trembling. +Nuncey took her father's hand. + +"Tell us all about it," she commanded; and he told them. + +His wife cast her apron over her head. + +"But he'll take you back," she moaned. "If you go to 'en and ask 'en +properly, he'll surely take you back!" + +"Don't be foolish, mother." Nuncey laid a hand on her father's shoulder, +and he looked up at her with brimming eyes. "'Tis Rosewarne that shall +send to us before we go to him!" + +She patted the tired shoulders, now bent again over the table. + +"But what a brave little father it is, after all!" + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + + +RIGHT OF FERRY. + +"What's the matter with Benny?" asked Nicky Vro as he rowed Hester across +that evening. They were alone in the boat. "The man seemed queer in his +manner this morning, like as if he was sickenin' for something, and this +afternoon I han't seen fur nor feather of 'en." He dug away with his +paddles, and resumed with a chuckle, after a dozen strokes, "The man +hasn't been quarrellin' with his bread and butter, I hope? I went up to +see Mr. Sam on a little business o' my own after dinner, and he fairly +snapped my nose off--called me an impident old fool, and gave me the sack. +Iss fay, he did! I wasn't goin' to argue with the man. 'You'll think +better o' this to-morrow,' I said, and with that I comed away. +Something must have occurred to put 'en out before he talked that nonsense +to _me_." + +Next morning, Hester--who meanwhile had learned the truth--found the old +fellow in the same cheerful, incredulous frame of mind. She might have +told him how serious was his case; but it is improbable that she could +have convinced him, and, moreover, Mr. Benny, before confiding to her the +reason of his own dismissal, had made her promise to keep it a secret. + +By Saturday, however, it was generally known that Mr. Sam had found some +excuse or other to get rid of his father's confidential clerk. Now Mr. +Benny had hitherto brought down Nicky's weekly wages on Saturday evenings +as he crossed by the ferry. This week no Mr. Benny appeared, nor any +messenger from Hall; and consequently on Sunday morning early Nicky donned +a clean shirt-front and marched up to the house to claim his due. + +"I make it a rule," said Mr. Sam, "to dispense no moneys on the Sabbath." + +"The ferry charges double on the Sabbath, as you call it," answered +Nicky, "and always has. I don't see where your squeamishness begins. +Hows'ever, I'll call to-morrow rather than hurt any man's conscience; only +let's have it clear when the money's to be paid in futur'." + +"In future?" echoed Mr. Sam. "I hoped I had made it clear that after this +week you cease to be ferryman." + +"That's a good joke, now," said Nicky. + +"I am glad you take it so pleasantly. Come to me to-morrow, and you shall +be paid; and again next Saturday, after you have chained up for the night. +That, I warn you, will be the last time." + +"Oh, you'll think better of it by Saturday!" + +That Mr. Sam did not think better of it scarcely needs to be said; and +during the next few days some of Nicky's confidence began to ooze away. +His master made no sign; he could not hear that anyone had been engaged in +his place, or that anyone had been proposed for the job, but this silence +somehow disconcerted rather than reassured him. He discussed it with his +neighbour Hosken (one of the few small freeholders in the parish, who +along with a cottage and two acres of garden had inherited a deep +ancestral suspicion of the Rosewarnes and all their ways), and between +them the pair devised a plan to meet contingencies. + +The ferry closed at eight p.m. during the winter months. At half-past +eight on Saturday night Nicky again presented himself at Hall, and was +politely received in the counting-house. + +"Take a seat," suggested Mr. Sam. + +"Thank 'ee, sir," said Nicky, somewhat reassured. This opening promised +at least that Mr. Sam found the situation worth discussing. "Thank 'ee, +sir; but 'tis a relief to me to stand, not to mention the trousers." + +"Please yourself." Mr. Sam paused, and appeared to be waiting. + +"'Tis nice seasonable weather for the time of year," said Nicky +cheerfully, producing a large canvas bag and reaching forward to lay it on +the writing-table. It contained his week's takings, mostly in coppers. +"Three pounds, twelve shillings, and ninepence, sir, if you'll count it. +There's one French penny, must have been put upon me just now after dark. +I can't swear to the person, though I can guess. The last load but one, I +brought across a sailor-looking chap, a bustious, big fellow, with a round +hat like a missionary's, and all the rest of him in sea-cloth. Thinks I, +'You've broken ship, my friend.' The man had a drinking face, and +altogether I didn't like his looks. So, next trip, I warned the constable +across the water, in case he heard of a seaman missing from the west'ard. +But this here French penny I only discovered just now, when I counted up +the day's takings." + +"I fancy you must be mistaken," said Mr. Sam. "The man has a good +character for honesty." + +"What? You know 'en?" + +"He is the new tenant of Mrs. Trevarthen's cottage, and has come to take +over the ferry." In the pause that followed, Mr. Sam counted and arranged +the coins in small stacks. "Three-twelve-nine, did you say? Right. +But excuse me, there's one thing you've forgotten." + +Nicky understood. Very slowly he drew a chain from his left trouser +pocket, detached two keys, and laid them on the table. His face worked, +and for the moment he seemed on the verge of an outburst; but, when he +spoke, it was with dignity, albeit his voice trembled. + +"Mr. Samuel, you try to go where the devil can't, between the oak and the +rind. Your father fought with men of his own size, and gave an' took what +the fightin' brought; but as for you, you fight with women and children, +and old worn-out men, such as the Lord helps because they can't help +themselves. You han't beat us yet--not by a long way. I warn you to pray +that the way may be lengthened; for 'tis when you've overcome us, an' the +Lord takes up our cause, that your troubles'll begin." + + +Small sleep came to Nicky Vro that night. What troubled him most in the +prospect of the struggle ahead--for a struggle he meant it to be--was his +position as Rosewarne's tenant. Mean as was his hovel above the ferry-- +rented by him at four pounds a year--he clung to it, and Mr. Samuel would +certainly turn him out. By good luck he paid his rent quarterly, and +could not be evicted before Christmas. He had talked this over with his +neighbour, Hosken, who had encouraged him to be cheerful. "Drat it all, +uncle," said Hosken, himself the cheeriest of men, "if the worst comes to +the worst, I'll take you in myself, and give you your meals and a crib." + +Nicky shook his head. "You'd best talk it over with your wife," said he, +"afore you make free with your promises. She's a good woman, but +afflicted with tidiness. I doubt my ways be too messy for her." + +While he lay on his straw mattress thinking of these things, a distant +gallop of hoofs woke the night, and by and by, with much clattering of +loose stones, a horse came plunging down the village street. + +Old Nicky, who slept in his clothes, was out of bed and ready before the +rider drew rein. + +"'Tis young Tregenza from Kit's Harbour," he muttered. "I heard that +his missus was expectin'. Lord, how a man will ride for his first! +All right! all right!" he sung out, fumbling with the bar as the butt of a +riding-whip rattled on the shutter. "Be that you, Mr. Tregenza?" + +"For the Lord's sake, uncle!" an agitated voice made answer out of the +darkness. + +"There, there! Yours ben't the first case that have happened, my lad, and +you'll ride easier next time. Hitch up the horse, and I'll have the boat +out in two two's." + +"Why can't you fetch out the horse-boat?" + +"Because, my son, I ben't the proper ferryman. You must ride back up the +hill if you want _he_; and even so, I doubt he'll have to knock up the +folks at Hall to get at the keys." + +Mr. Tregenza broke out into impatient swearing on all who delayed travel +on the king's highway. + +"You may leave your curses, young man, to them with a better right to use +'em. Thank the Almighty there's a boat to put you across. Hosken's blue +boat it is; you'll find her ready to launch, down 'pon the slip. Take her +and pull for the doctor. Tell 'en 'tis no use his bringing a horse, for +there's no boat to fetch a horse over. But there's Tank's grey mare up to +the inn. I'll have her ready saddled for him, if he'll promise to ride +steady and mind the sore 'pon her near shoulder." + +All the village had heard the midnight gallop of hoofs; all the village +had guessed accurately who the rider was, and why he rode. But Nicky's +dismissal was known to a few only. Soon after daybreak the news of this +spread too, with the circumstance that only Nicky's good-nature had kept +clear the king's highway for a message which above all others needs to be +carried with speed. + +Nicky sat complacent off the ferry-slip in Hosken's blue boat when the new +ferryman arrived (twenty minutes late, by reason of his having to fetch +the keys from Hall), and stolidly undid the padlock fastening the official +craft. + +"Aw, good-mornin'!" Nicky hailed him. + +"Mornin'," said the new ferryman. + +"We're in opposition, it seems." + +"Darned if I care." The new ferryman lit his pipe and spat. "My name's +Elijah Bobe." + +"Then, Elijah Bobe, you may as well go home. 'Tis Sunday, and a slack +day; but, were it Saturday and full business, your takings wouldn't cover +your keep." + +"Darned if I care," Mr. Bobe repeated. "I'm paid by the week." He sucked +at his pipe for a while. "Ticklish job, ain't it?--interferin' with a +private ferry?" he asked. + +But Nicky had taken opinion upon this. So far as he could discover, the +case lay thus: Of the ferry itself nothing belonged to Lady Killiow but +the slipway on the near shore. The farther slipway was not precisely +no-man's-land, for the foreshore belonged to the Duchy, and the soil +immediately above it to Sir George Dinham; but here half a dozen separate +interests came into conflict. Sir George, while asserting ownership of +the land, would do nothing to repair or maintain the slip on it, arguing +very reasonably that he derived no profit from the dues, and that since +these went to Lady Killiow, she was bound to maintain her own +landing-places. Rosewarne, on the other hand, as Lady Killiow's steward, +flatly refused to execute repairs upon another person's property. +The Duchy, being appealed to, told the two parties (in effect) to fight it +out. The Highway Board was ready enough to maintain the road down to +high-water mark, but, on legal advice, declined to go farther. +The Harbour Commissioners held that to repair a private ferry was no +business of theirs, and, although the condition of the slipway had for +years been a scandal, refused to meddle. The whole dispute raised the +nice legal points, What is a ferry? Does the term include not only the +boat but access to the boat? And, incidentally, if anyone broke a leg on +the town shore on his way between highwater mark and the boat, from whom +could he recover damages? + +In short, Nicky felt easy enough about landing and embarking his +passengers on the town shore. Rosewarne could not challenge him without +raising the whole question of the slipway. But on the near shore he must +act circumspectly. To be sure the approach to the water here was part of +the king's highway. The whole village used it, and moored their boats +without let or hindrance off the slip which (since the land belonged to +the Killiow estate) the Rosewarnes had kept in good repair, and without +demur. But it was clearly understood--and Nicky, a few hours ago, would +have asserted it as stubbornly as anyone--that the sole right of taking a +passenger on board here for hire and conveying him across to the town +appertained to the Killiow ferryman. + +As it happened, however, at the back of Nicky's cottage a narrow lane, +public though seldom used, ran down to the waterside, to a shelf of rock +less than a stone's throw from the slip, and, when cleared of weed below +the tide-mark, by no means inconvenient for embarking passengers. +A rusty ring, clamped into the living rock, survived to tell of days +before steam-tugs were invented, when vessels had painfully to warp their +way up and down the river. Through this ring, no man forbidding him, Mr. +Hosken had run a frape, on which he kept his blue boat, now leased to +Nicky for a nominal rent of sixpence a week. + +"And why not use this for your ferry-landing?" Mr. Hosken suggested. +"Rosewarne can't touch ye here." + +"Sure?" + +"I reckon I ought to know the tithe-maps by heart; and, by them, this +parcel of shore belongs to nobody, unless it be to Her Majesty." + +Nicky chuckled with a wheezy cunning. + +It happened as he had promised the new ferryman. Mr. Sam's unpopularity +had been growing in the village since the eviction of Mrs. Trevarthen. +Aunt Butson, after a vain attempt to find labour in the fields, had +followed her to the almshouse across the water. The cause of Mr. Benny's +dismissal had been freely canvassed and narrowly guessed at. +Against this new stroke of tyranny the public revolted. Living so far +from their own church and a mile from the nearest chapel, numbers of the +villagers were wont on Sundays to cross over to the town for their +religion, and to-day with one consent they stepped into Nicky's blue boat, +while Mr. Bobe smoked and spat, and regarded them with a lazy interest. +Towards evening the old man jingled a pocketful of coppers. + +"Why ever didn't I think o' this before?" he asked aloud. "Here I've +a-been near upon fifty years earnin' twelve shillings a week, and all the +while might ha' been a rich man and my own master!" + +Next day he sought out Mr. Toy, and Mr. Toy obligingly painted and +lettered a board for him, and helped to fix it against the wall of his +hovel overlooking the lane-- + + THIS WAY TO + N. VRO FERRYMAN + THE OLD FIRM + +Here was defiance indeed, a flaunted banner of revolt! The villagers, who +had hitherto looked upon the old man as half-witted but harmless, suddenly +discovered him to be a hero, and Mr. Toy gave himself a holiday to stand +beneath the board and explain it to all the country folk coming to use the +ferry. So well did he succeed that between sunset and sunrise the only +passenger by the official boat was Mr. Sam himself, on his way to seek and +take counsel with Lawyer Tulse. + +Of their interview no result appeared for ten days, during which Nicky saw +himself acquiring wealth beyond the dreams of avarice. Already he +despised what at first had been so terrible, the prospect of being turned +out of house and home. He could snap his fingers, and let Mr. Sam do his +worst. He no longer thought of hiring a bedroom; he would rent a small +cottage from Hosken, and perhaps engage a housekeeper. It is to be feared +that in these days Nicky gave way to boasting; but much may be forgiven to +a man who blossoms out into a hero at eighty. + +On the twelfth day of his prosperity, as he rested on his oars off the +town-landing and dreamed of a day when, by purchasing a horse-boat, he +would deprive the official ferry of its only source of revenue, and close +all competition, a seedy-looking man in a frayed overcoat stepped down the +slipway and accosted him. + +"Is your name Nicholas Vro?" + +"It is; and you'm askin' after the right boat, stranger though you be. +Step aboard, mister." + +"Thank you," said the seedy-looking man, "but I don't need to cross. +The fact is, I've a paper to deliver to you." + +Nicky, as he did not mind confessing, was 'no scholar'; he could read at +the best with great difficulty, and he had left his spectacles at home. + +"What's the meaning o' this?" he asked, turning the document over. + +"It's an injunction." + +"That makes me no wiser, my son." + +"It's a paper to restrain you from plying this ferry for hire pending a +suit Killow _versus_ Vro in which you are named as defendant." + +"'Suit'--'verses'? Darn the fellow, what's to do with verses? Come to me +with your verses!" Nicky tossed the injunction contemptuously down in the +sternsheets. + +"You'll find 'tis the law," said the stranger warningly. + +"The law? I've a-seen the law, my friend, over to Bodmin, and 'tis a very +different looking chap from you, I can assure 'ee. The law rides in a +gilt coach with trumpets afore it, and two six-foot fellows up behind in +silk stockings and powder. The law be that high and mighty it can't even +wear its own nat'ral hair. And you come to me stinkin' of beer in a +reach-me-down overcoat, and pretend _you_ be the law! You'll be tellin' me +next you're Queen Victoria. But it shows what a poor kind o' case +Rosewarne must have, that he threatens me wi' such a make-believe." + +That Nicky had been alarmed for the moment cannot be denied. +His uneasiness died away, however, as the days passed and nothing +happened. The paper he stowed away at home in the skivet of his chest, +and very foolishly said nothing about it even to his neighbour Hosken. + +Indeed he had almost forgotten it when, just before Christmas, the +stranger appeared again on the slip with another paper. + +"Hullo! More verses?" + +"You've to show cause why you shouldn't be committed for contempt." + +"Oh, have I? Well, a man can't help his feelin's, but I'm sorry if I said +anything the other day to hurt yours; for a man can't help his appearance, +neither, up to a point." + +"You've none too civil a tongue," answered the stranger, "but I think it a +kindness to warn you. By continuing to ply this ferry you're showing +contempt for the law, and the law is going to punish you." + +Nicky thought this out, but could not understand it at all. If Mr. Sam +had a legal right to stop him, why hadn't he sent the police, or at least +a 'summons'? As for going to prison, that only happened to thieves and +criminals. No man could be locked up for pulling a boat to and fro; the +notion was absurd on the face of it. + +Two days later he sought out Mr. Benny, and showed him the documents. + +"I wish you'd make head or tail of 'em for me. They're pretendin' somehow +that Queen Victoria herself is mixed up in it. God bless her! and me that +have never clapped eyes on her nor wished her aught but in health an' +wealth long to live, Amen." + +"Oh, Nicky, Nicky!" Mr. Benny leapt up from his chair. "What have you +done! and what a criminal fool was I not to keep an eye on you!" + +"From all I hear," said Nicky, "you've had enough to do lookin' after +yourself. Be it true, as I hear tell, that Rosewarne gave you the sack on +my account?" + +"Never talk of that," commanded Mr. Benny. "Go you home now, lock up your +boat, get a night's rest, and expect me early to-morrow morning. +Between this and then I will see what can be done." But his heart sank as +he glanced again at the date on the document. + +Indeed he was too late. After an ineffectual interview with Mr. Tulse, +the little man rushed off to the ferry, intent on facing Mr. Sam in his +den and pleading for mercy. But as he reached the slip the official +ferryboat came alongside, and in the sternsheets beside the town policeman +sat Nicky Vro, on his way to Bodmin gaol. + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + + +THE INTERCEDERS. + +"Clem!" + +The blind child awoke at the touch of his sister's hand on his shoulder, +and turned drowsily in his bed. + +"Eh? What's the matter?" A moment later he sat up in alarm and put out a +hand as if to feel the darkness. "It isn't morning yet!" + +"No; but the ground is all covered with snow, and you can't think what +funny lights are dancing over it across the sky. I've been watching them +for minutes and minutes." + +"What sort of lights?" + +"I can't tell you, because I never saw the like of them. Sometimes +they're white, and sometimes they're violet, and then again green and +orange. They run right across the sky like ribbons waving, and once they +turned to red and lit up the snow as far as I could see." + +"You've been catching your death of cold." Clem could hear her teeth +chattering. + +"I'm not so very cold," Myra declared bravely. "I took off the +counterpane and wrapped it round me. You'll come, won't you, dear?" + +Clem knew why he was summoned. Two days ago Susannah had told them of an +old woman living at Market Jew who had mixed a pot of green ointment and +touched her eyes with it, and ever afterwards seen the fairies. At once +Myra, who was naught if not practical, had secreted Susannah's jar of cold +cream (kept to preserve the children's skin from freckles) and a phial of +angelica-water from the store-closet, had stirred these into a beautiful +green paste, and had anointed her own eyes and Clem's with it, using +incantations-- + + "Christ walked a little, a little + Before the sun did rise; + Christ mixed clay with spittle, + And cured a blind man's eyes; + This man, and that man, + And likewise Bartimee-- + What Christ did for these poor men + I hope He'll do for me." + +The charm, however, had not worked. Perhaps it needed time to operate, +and the children had despaired too soon. + +"Why didn't you come to me at once?" demanded Clem. + +"I didn't dare." Myra trembled now, on the verge of putting her hopes to +the touch. Though these were but pisky-lights, what bliss if Clem should +behold them! "Besides, I saw a light across the yard in Archelaus Libby's +garret. I believe he is awake there, with his telescope, and _he_ can't +have tried the ointment. You won't be terribly disappointed, dear, if--" + +He slid out of bed and took her hand. + +He was a brave boy; and when she led him to her window and he saw nothing, +his first thought was for her disappointment, to soothe it as well as he +might. + +"Tell me about it," he whispered, nestling down on the window-seat and +drawing her head close to his shoulder; for after the pause that destroyed +hope she had broken down, her body shaking with muffled sobs, woeful to +feel and to hear. Outside, the Northern Lights--the 'merry-dancers'--yet +flickered over the snowy roof-ridges and the snowy uplands beyond. + +"I am going to dress," she announced, as the gust of sobbing spent itself. +"If Archelaus Libby is awake, he will tell us what it means." + +"Take me with you." + +Though prepared to go alone, she had hoped he would ask this, being--to +confess the truth--more than half afraid of the dark landing and passages +below. The two dressed themselves and crept downstairs. In the hall, +remembering their former expedition, Myra felt the bolt of the front door +cautiously; but this time it was shut. They stole down the side-passage +to the kitchen, where a fire burned all night in the great chimney-place +on a bed of white wood ashes. Kneeling in the faint glow of it they drew +on and laced their boots, then unlatched the kitchen window and dropped +out upon the snow. + +Archelaus Libby had been given a garret over the cider house, where he +slept or studied in a perpetual odour of dried russet apples and Spanish +onions. He was awake and dressed, and welcomed the children gaily by the +light of a tallow candle. His simple mind found nothing to wonder at in +this nocturnal visit. Was not the Aurora Borealis performing in all its +splendour? Then naturally the whole world must be awake with him and +excited. + +He showed Myra its wonders through the telescope, discoursing on them with +glee. + +"But what does it _mean _?" she asked. + +He told her how it was caused, and how a clever man had once made a toy +with a bright lamp, a globe sprinkled with ground glass, and the vapour of +a sponge pressed on hot iron, repeating the phenomenon on a tiny scale. +"We will try it ourselves to-morrow," he promised. + +The ribbons of light were playing hide-and-seek behind a distant wooded +hill, now and again so vividly that its outline stood up clear against +them. + +"That will be the moors above Damelioc," said Archelaus. "If you watch +through the glass, you will see the monument there--the one on the +battle-field, you know. I saw it, just now, plain as plain. And once I +thought I saw the taller monument, over Bodmin." + +"That's where they've put Uncle Vro in gaol." + +"I was thinking of him just now, Miss Myra. It will be cold for him +to-night over there in his cell." + +"I wonder if Lady Killiow knows," said Myra musingly. + +"They were talking about it in the kitchen to-night," said Archelaus, +"and all agreed that she knew naught about it. Miss Susannah was saying +that Peter Benny had been across here, bold as a lion, this afternoon, and +spoke up to your uncle about it. Their voices were so loud that from the +great parlour she heard every word; and Mr. Benny was threatening to tell +Lady Killiow what he was doing in her name, and, what's more, to write up +to his brother and get the whole story in the London papers." + +"But _has_ he told her?" + +Clem caught his sister suddenly by the arm. The child was shaking from +head to foot. "Peter Benny has not told her! Come away, Myra, and leave +Archelaus to his telescope. I want you, back at the house!" + +"Why, whatever has taken you?" she asked, believing him ill. Having +wished Archelaus good-night and hurried Clem down the garret stairs, she +repeated her question anxiously. "Come back to bed, Clem; you're shaking +like a leaf!" + +"The lights!" stammered the child. "I saw them." + +"You saw them!" Myra echoed slowly. + +"Yes, yes--over Bodmin and over Damelioc. How far is it to Damelioc?" + +"Four or five miles maybe. But, Clem, you don't mean--" She stared into +his face by the wan light of the Aurora reflected from the snow. +Reading his resolve, she became practical at once. "Stay here and don't +stir," she commanded, "while I creep back to the larder and forage." + + +Dawn overtook them at the lodge-gates of Damelioc; a still dawn, with a +clear, steel-blue sky and the promise of a crisp, bright day. It had +been freezing all night, and was freezing still; the snow as yet lay like +a fine powder, and so impetuously had they hurried, hand in hand, that +along the uplands they scarcely felt the edge of the windless air. +But here in the valley bottom, under the trees beside the stream, they +passed into a different atmosphere, and shivered. Here, too, for the +first half-mile--road and sward being covered alike with snow--Myra had +much ado to steer, and would certainly have missed her way but for the +black tumbling stream on her right. She knew that the drive ran roughly +parallel with it, and never more than a few paces distant from its brink. +Twice in her life she had journeyed with her grandmother in high June to +Lady Killiow's rose-show, and she remembered being allowed to kneel on the +cushions of the 'car' and wonder at the miniature bridges and cascades. +By keeping close beside the water she could not go wrong. + +They halted by a bridge below the lake where the woods divided to right +and left at the foot of the great home-park. A cold fog lay over the +water and the reedy islands where the wild duck and moorhens were just +beginning to stir, but above it a glint or two of sunshine touched the +wintry boughs, and while it grew and ran along them and lit up their snowy +upper surfaces as with diamonds, a full morning beam smote on the facade +of the house itself, high above the slope, uplifted above the fog as it +were a heavenly palace raised upon a base of cloud. + +Daunted by the vision, Myra glanced at Clem. His face was lifted towards +the sunlight. + +"The house!" she whispered. "Oh, Clem, it's ever so much grander than I +remembered!" She began to describe it to him, while they divided and +munched the crusts she had fetched from Susannah's bread-pan. + +"If her palace is as fine as that," said Clem, with great cheerfulness, +"she must be a very great lady, and can easily do what we want." + +They took hands again and mounted the curving drive to the terrace and the +cavernous _porte-cochere_, where hung a bell-pull so huge that Myra had to +clasp it in both hands and drag upon it with all her weight. Far in the +bowels of the house a bell clanged, deep and hollow-voiced as for a +funeral. + +A footman answered it--a young giant in blue livery and powder. +Flinging wide the vast door, he stared down upon the visitors, and his +Olympian haughtiness gave way to a broad grin. + +"Well, I'm jiggered!" said the footman. + +"You may be jiggered or not," answered Myra, with sudden _aplomb_ +(a moment before, she had been ready to run), "but we wish to see Lady +Killiow. Will you announce us, please?" + + +Two hours later, when the sun had risen above the trees, Sir George Dinham +came riding up through Damelioc Park. He too came to right a wrong, +having given his promise to Mr. Benny overnight. He rode slowly, +pondering. On his way he noted the footprints of two children on the +snow, except by them untrodden; marked how they wandered off here and +there toward the stream, but ever returned, regained the way, and held on +for Damelioc. He wondered what they might mean. + +Lady Killiow received him in her morning-room. She wore a bonnet and a +long cloak of sables, and was obviously dressed for a drive. She rose +from before her writing-table, where she was sealing a letter. + +"I interrupt you?" said Sir George as they shook hands, and glancing out +of the window he had a glimpse of the heads of a pair of restless bays. +Unheard by him--the snow lying six inches deep before the porch--Lady +Killiow's carriage had come round from the stables a minute after his +arrival. + +"But if I guess your errand," she said, "I was merely about to forestall +it. I am driving to Bodmin." + +"You knew nothing, then, of this poor old creature's case?" + +"My friend, I hope that you too have only just discovered it, or you would +have warned me." + +"I heard of it last night for the first time. Rosewarne alone is +responsible for the prosecution?" + +"He only." She nodded towards the letter on the writing-table. +"I have asked him to attend here when I return, and explain himself. +Meanwhile--" + +"But what can you do?" + +"The poor soul is in prison." + +"That is where I came to offer my help. The Assizes are not over. +The same judge who committed him has been delayed there for three days by +a _nisi prius_ suit--an endless West Cornwall will case." + +"You did not suppose, surely, that this was happening with any consent of +mine?" + +"No," Sir George answered slowly, "I did not. But do you know, Lady +Killiow, that, without any consent of ours, you and I have nearly been in +litigation over this same wretched ferry?" He smiled at her surprise. +"Oh, yes, I could help the Radicals to make out a very good case against +us!" + +"I learned to trust my old steward. It seems that I have carried over my +trust too carelessly to this son of his, and with the less excuse because +I dislike the man. The fact is, I am getting old." + +"May I say humbly that you defend yourself before a far worse sinner in +these matters? And may I say, too, that your care for Damelioc and its +tenantry has always been quoted in my hearing as exemplary?" + +"I am not defending myself. I have been to blame, though," she added with +a twinkle, "I do not propose to confess this to my steward. I have been +bitterly to blame, and my first business at Bodmin will be to ask this old +man's pardon." + +"And after?" + +"He must be released, and at once. Can this be done by withdrawing the +suit? or must there be delays?" + +"He must purge his offence, I fear, unless you can persuade the judge to +reconsider it. If I can help you in this, I would beg for the privilege." + +"Thank you, my friend. I was on the point of asking what you offer. +You had best leave your horse here and take a seat in my carriage." + +"But," said Sir George, as she moved to the door, "you have not yet told +me how you learned the news--who was beforehand with me." + +"You shall see." She crossed the corridor, and softly opening a door, +invited him to look within. There, in the lofty panelled breakfast-room, +at a table reflected as a small white island in a sea of polished floor, +sat Myra and Clem replete and laughing, unembarrassed by the splendid +footman who waited on them, and reckless that the huge bunch of grapes at +which they pulled was of December's growing. + +Sir George laughed too as he looked. "But, good heavens!" said he, +remembering the footprints on the drive, "they must have left home before +daylight!" + +"They started in the dead of night, so far as I can gather. Eh? What is +it?" she asked, turning upon another footman, who had come briskly down +the corridor and halted behind her, obviously with a message. + +"Mr. Rosewarne, my lady. He has just come in by way of the stables. +He has seen the carriage waiting, but asks me to say that he will not +detain your ladyship a minute." + +"He has come for the children, no doubt. Very well; I will see him in the +morning-room." As the man held open the door for her she motioned to Sir +George to precede her. "I shall defer discussing Mr. Rosewarne's conduct +with him. For the moment we have to deal with its results, and you may +wish to ask him some questions." + +Mr. Sam never committed himself to horseback, but employed a light gig for +his journeys to and from Damelioc. The cold drive having reddened his +ears and lent a touch of blue to his nose, his appearance this morning was +more than usually unprepossessing. + +"I will not detain your ladyship," he began, repeating the message he had +sent by the footman. "Ah, Sir George Dinham? Your servant, Sir George! +My first and chief business was to recover my runaways, whom your ladyship +has so kindly looked after." + +"You know why they came?" asked Lady Killiow. + +"To tell the truth, I have not yet had an opportunity to question them. +Some freak of the girl's, I should guess. The young teacher to whom I +give house-room informs me that they were excited last night by an +appearance of the Northern Lights--a very fine display, he tells me. +I regret that, being asleep, I missed it. He suggested that the pair had +set out to explore the phenomenon; and that, very likely, is the +explanation--more especially as their footprints led me due northward. +My housekeeper tells me that Myra--the elder child--firmly believes a pot +of gold to be buried at the foot of every rainbow. A singular pair, my +lady! and my late father scarcely improved matters by allowing them to run +wild." + +"You are mistaken, Mr. Rosewarne. Undoubtedly they followed the Northern +Lights; but their purpose you Will hardly guess. It was to intercede for +an old man of eighty, whom, it appears, I have been cruel enough to lock +up in prison." + +Mr. Sam's face expressed annoyance and something more. + +"I sincerely trust, my lady, they have not succeeded in distressing you." + +"I suppose I may thank Heaven, sir, that they at least succeeded so far." + +Her tone completely puzzled Mr. Sam, who detected the displeasure beneath +it, but in all honesty could not decide whether she blamed him or the +children. + +"A painful business, my lady. The poor man was past his work--a nuisance +to himself and to others. These last scenes of our poor mortality-- +often, as it seems to us (could _we_ be the judges), so unduly +protracted--But some steps had to be taken. The ferry was becoming a +scandal. I felt called upon to act, and to act firmly. If I may use the +expression, your ladyship's feelings in the matter would naturally be +those which do honour to your ladyship's sex; they would be, shall I +say--er--" + +"Why not say 'womanly,' Mr. Rosewarne?" + +"Ha, precisely--womanly. I did my best to spare them." + +"We will talk of that later. Just now, you will please instruct us how +best to release the poor man, and at once. May I remind you that the +horses are taking cold?" + +"The horses?" Mr. Sam stared from Lady Killiow to Sir George. +"Her ladyship doesn't tell me that she was actually proposing to drive to +Bodmin?" + +"I start within five minutes." + +"But it is useless!" + +"Useless?" + +"The man is dead." + +"Mr. Rosewarne--" + +Mr. Sam drew a telegram from his pocket. "I received this as I was +leaving home. The governor of the prison very kindly communicated with me +as soon as the office opened. The prisoner--as I heard from the policeman +who escorted him--collapsed almost as soon as they admitted him. +I telegraphed at once to the governor, assuring him of my interest in the +case and requesting information. This is his reply: '_ Vro died +three-thirty this morning. Doctor supposes senile decay._' It was +considerate of him to make this addition, for it will satisfy your +ladyship that we acted, though unwillingly, with the plainest possible +justification. The man was hopelessly past his work." + +Sir George, who had been staring out of window, wheeled about abruptly, +lifted his head, and gazed at Mr. Sam for some twenty seconds with a +wondering interest. Then he turned to Lady Killiow. + +"Shall I send back the carriage?" + +"Thank you," she said; and he went out, with a glance at her face which +silently expressed many things. + +"Mr. Rosewarne," she began, when they were alone, "if I began to say what +I think of this business, a person of your instincts would at once fall to +supposing that I shifted the blame on to your shoulders, which is just the +last thing in the world I mean to do. But precisely because I am guilty, +and precisely because I accept responsibility for my steward's actions, a +steward who conceals his actions is of no use to me. You are dismissed." + + + +CHAPTER XX. + + +AN OUTBURST. + + "I saw the new moon late yestreen, + Wi' the auld moon in her arm." + +"Miss Marvin, does 'yestreen' mean 'last night'?" + +"It does." + +"Then I wish the fellow would say 'last night,'" grumbled Master Calvin. +"And how could the new moon have the old moon in her arm?" + +Hester explained. + +"But moons haven't arms." He pushed the book away pettishly. +"I hate this poetry! Why can't you teach me what I want?" + +"That," said Hester, "is just what I am trying to discover. +Will you tell me what you want?" + +To her amazement, he bent his head down upon his arms and broke into +sobbing. "I don't know what I want! Everyone hates me, and I--I hate it +all!" + +Somehow, Hester--who had started by misliking the child, and only with the +gravest misgivings (yielding to pressure from his father) had consented to +teach him in her spare hours--was beginning to pity him. This new +feeling, to be sure, suffered from severe and constant checks; for he was +unamiable to the last degree, and seldom awoke a spark of liking but he +killed it again, and within five minutes, by doing or saying something +odious. He differed from other children, and differed unpleasantly. +He had taken the full tinge of his sanctimonious upbringing; he was +pharisaical, cruel at times, incurably twisted by his father's creed that +wrong becomes right when committed by a pious person from pious motives. +(His mother had once destroyed a cat because she found herself growing +fond of it and believed that a Christian's soul must be weaned of all +earthly affections.) He appealed to Hester's pity because, with all this, +he was unhappy. + +She had been teaching him languidly and inattentively to-day, being +preoccupied with a letter in her pocket; and to this letter, having set +him to learn his verses from Sir Patrick Spens, she let her thoughts +wander. It ran:-- + + "My dear Miss Marvin,--After much hesitation I have decided to + commit to writing a proposal which has been ripening in my mind + during our three months' acquaintance. My age and my + convictions alike disincline me to set too much store on the + emotion men call 'love,' which in my experience is illusory as + the attractions provoking it are superficial. But as a solitary + man I have long sighed for the blessings of Christian + companionship, or a union founded on mutual esteem and fruitful + in well-doing. While from the first not insensible to your + charms of person, I have allowed my inclination to grow because + I detected in you the superior graces of the mind and a strength + of character which could not be other than sustaining to the man + fortunate enough to possess you for a helpmeet. In short, my + dear Miss Marvin, you would gratify me in the highest degree by + consenting to be Mrs. R. I am, as you are probably aware, + well-to-do. The circumstances of my being a widower will not, + I hope, weigh seriously against this proposal in the mind of one + who, while retaining the personal attractions above mentioned, + may be reasonably supposed to have set aside the romantic + illusions of girlhood. Awaiting your reply, which I trust may + be favourable, I remain, yours very truly," + "S. Rosewarne." + + "P.S.--Your exceptional gifts in the handling of children assure + me that my son Calvin would receive from you a care no less than + motherly. He would meet it, I feel equally sure, with a + responsive affection." + + +The tone of this letter made Hester tingle as if some of its phrases had +been thongs to scourge her. + +Yet it must be answered. + +That this odious man should have dared--and yet for weeks she had seen it +coming. Incredible as she found it that a man from whom every nerve of +her body recoiled with loathing should complacently ignore the signs, +should complacently persevere in assuming himself to be agreeable and in +pressing that assumption, she had to admit that the offer did not take her +wholly by surprise. What bruised her was the insufferable obtuseness of +the wording. How was it possible for a human being to sit down in good +faith and pen such sentences without guessing that they hurt or insulted? + +Nevertheless she blessed the impulse which had prompted him to write; for +in writing he could be answered. All day she had gone in dread of meeting +him face to face. + +Once or twice, while she pondered her answer, she had glanced up at the +child, as if _he_ could explain his father. What fatal unhappy gift had +they both, by which in all that they said or did they earned aversion? + +When the child broke down, she arose with a pang of self-reproach, crossed +to his chair, and laid a hand on his shoulder. + +"Listen to me, Calvin," she said. "You have told me one thing you want: +you want people to like instead of disliking you. Well, the quickest way +is to find out what they want, and do it, forgetting yourself; and then, +perhaps quite suddenly, you will wake up and discover not only that people +like you already, but that you yourself are full of a happiness you can't +explain." + +The gust of his sobbing grew calmer by degrees. He lifted his head a +little, but not to look her in the face. + +"Is that puzzling to you?" she asked. "Well, then, just give it a small +trial in practice, and see how it works. I want you, for instance, to +learn those verses. You don't like them; but by learning them you will +please me, and you want to please me. Try now!" + +He pulled the book towards him and bent over it, his head between his +hands. After three or four minutes he stood up, red-eyed and a little +defiant-- + + "'I saw the new moon late yestreen, + Wi' the auld moon in her arm; + And if we gang to sea, master, + I fear we'll come to harm.'" + + "They hadna sail'd a league, a league, + A league but barely ane--" + +Hester listened with eyes withdrawn, in delicacy avoiding to meet his +tear-reddened ones; and just then from the upper floor a scream rang +through the house--a child's scream. + +Master Calvin heard it, and broke off with a grin. + +"That will be Myra," he announced. "She's catching it!" + +Had she been less distraught, Hester might have marked and sighed over his +sudden relapse into odiousness. But she had risen with a white face; for +scream folllowed scream overhead, and the sound tortured her. + +"You don't tell me,"--she began, putting up both hands to her ears. +"No, no--there has been some accident! The poor child is calling for +help!" + +She ran out of the parlour, up the two flights of stairs and along a dark +winding corridor, still guided by the screams. At the end of the corridor +she found Susannah, pale, wringing her hands, outside a door which, +however, she made no attempt to enter. + +"Oh, miss, he's killing her!" + +"Is the door locked?" panted Hester, at the same time flinging her weight +against it as she turned the handle. It flew open, and she confronted-- +not Myra, but Mr. Sam. + +He stood between her and the window with an arm uplifted and in his hand a +leathern strap; and while she recoiled for an instant, the strap descended +across the naked back and shoulders of little Clem, who drooped under it +with bowed knees, helpless, his arms extended, his wrists bound together +and lashed to the bed-post. The child made no sound. The piercing +screams came not from him, but from an inner room--Myra's bedroom--and +from behind a closed door. + +"You shall not!" Hester flung herself forward, shielding the child from +another blow. "Oh, what wickedness are you doing! What horrible +wickedness!" + +Mr. Sam had raised his arm again. The man indeed seemed to be +transported with passion, with sheer lust of cruelty. It is doubtful if +he had heard her enter. His dark face twitched distortedly in the fading +light. + +"I'll teach him--I'll teach him!" he panted. + +"You shall not!" Hester, covering the child's limp body, could not see his +face, but her eyes fell on his little shirt, ripped from neckband to flap, +and lying on the floor as it had been torn from his body and tossed aside. +She called to Susannah, still lingering doubtfully outside upon the mat, +and pointed to the door behind Mr. Sam. Susannah plucked up courage, +stepped across and turned the key. An instant later, like a small wild +beast uncaged, Myra came springing and crouched beside her brother, facing +his tormentor with blazing eyes. + +Hester, catching sight of the housekeeper's scissors which Susannah wore +at her waist, motioned to her to cut the cords binding Clem's wrists. +Mr. Sam made no effort to oppose her, but stood panting, with one hand +resting on the dressing-table. Susannah managed indeed to detach the +scissors, but held them out falteringly, as though in sheer terror +declining all responsibility. + +"Give them to me, then." + +But as Susannah held them out Myra leapt up and, snatching them, dashed +upon her uncle. His hand still rested palm downwards on the +dressing-table, and she struck at it. Undoubtedly the child would have +stabbed it through--for, strange to say, he made no effort to fend her off +or to avoid the stroke--had not Hester run in time to push her smartly by +the shoulder in the very act of striking. As it was the scissor-point +drove into the table, missing him by a bare two inches. Then and then +only he lifted his hand and stared at it stupidly. He seemed about to +speak, but turned with a click of the throat--a queer dry sound, as though +a sudden thirst parched him--and walked heavily from the room. +Hester gazed after him and back at the scissors on the dressing-table. +She was reaching forward to pick them up when a cry from Susannah bade her +hurry. Clem had fainted, his legs doubled beneath him, his head falling +horribly back from his upstretched arms, which still, like ropes, held him +fast to the bed-post. + +Twenty minutes later Hester descended the stairs. Clem was in bed with +his sister's arms about him; and Myra's last look at parting had been one +of dumb gratitude, pitifully asking pardon for old jealousies, old +misunderstandings. At any other time Hester would have rejoiced over the +winning of a friend. + +But the sight of the weals on Clem's back had for the moment killed all +feeling in her but disgust and horror. So deep was her disgust that the +sight of Master Calvin, whom she surprised in the act of listening outside +the door, scarcely ruffled it afresh. So complete was her horror that it +left no room for astonishment when, reaching the foot of the stairs, she +found Mr. Sam himself lingering in the hall, apparently awaiting her. + +She walked past him with set face. All the smooth, pietistic phrases of +his letter rang a chime in her brain, to be retorted upon him as soon as +he dared to speak. But he did not speak. He looked up, as if awaiting +her; took half a step forward; then drew aside and let her pass. She went +by with set face, not sparing a look for him. In the open air she drew a +long breath. + + +Above all things she desired to consult with Peter Benny. In this there +was nothing surprising, for everyone in trouble went to Peter Benny. +He himself--honest man--had to admit that the number of confidences which +came his way were, no doubt, extraordinary. He explained it on the simple +ground that he wrote letters for seamen and made it a rule never to +divulge their secrets. "Not that anyone would dream of it," he added; +"but my secrecy, happening to be professional, gets its credit +advertised." + +It appeared that these professional duties were heavier than usual +to-night. At any rate, when Hester reached the little cottage by the +quayside, it was to find that he had made a hasty tea and departed for the +office. In her urgency, after merely telling Mrs. Benny that she would be +back in a few minutes, Hester ran down the court to the office, tapped +hurriedly at the door, and pushed it open. + +Within, with his back towards her, erect and naked to the waist under the +rays of an oil lamp swinging from the beam, stood a young man. The light +falling on his firm shoulders and the muscles along his spine showed the +gleaming flesh tattooed with interwoven patterns, delicate as lacework; +and in the midst, reaching from shoulder-blade to shoulder-blade, a bright +blue tree with a cross above, and beneath it, the figures of Adam and Eve. + + +As she drew back, Mr. Benny, on the far side of the office, raised his +eyes from a table over which he bent to dip a needle in a saucer of Indian +ink; and at the same moment the young man under the lamp, suddenly aware +of a visitor, faced about with a shy laugh. It was Tom Trevarthen. +Hester, with a short cry of dismay, backed into the darkness, shutting the +door as she retreated. When Mr. Benny returned to supper he forbore from +alluding to the incident until Hester--her trouble still unconfided--shook +hands with him for the night. + +"I've heard," he said, "folks laugh at sailors for tattooing themselves. +But 'tis done in case they're drowned, that their bodies may be known; +and, if you look at that, 'tis a sacrament surely." + +That night Hester awoke from a terrifying dream; and still, as she dreamed +again, she saw a lash descending on a child's naked back, leaving at each +stroke the mark of a cross interwoven with a strange and delicate pattern; +and at each stroke heard a girl's voice which screamed, "It is a +sacrament!" + + + +CHAPTER XXI. + + +MR. BENNY GETS PROMOTION. + +Early next morning, having bound Mr. Benny to secrecy, she told him the +whole story. At first his face merely expressed horror; but by and by his +forehead lost its puckers. When she had done, his first comment took her +fairly aback. + +"Ay," said he, "I'd half guessed it a'ready. The poor creature's +afflicted. It don't stand in nature for a man to deal around cruelty as +he's been doing unless his brain is touched." + +"Afflicted is he?" Hester answered indignantly. "I'm afraid I keep all my +pity for those he afflicts." + +"Then you do wrong," replied Mr. Benny, with much gravity. "That man +wants help if ever a man did." + +"He will get none from me, then," she said, and flushed, remembering the +proposal in her pocket. "I won't endure the sight of him, after +yesterday's work. I have written a letter resigning my teachership." + +"That isn't like you, somehow." Mr. Benny stood musing. + +"Of course," she went on hastily, "I don't give my real reasons. +The letter is addressed to you as Clerk, and you will have to read it to +the Board. I am ready to fill the post until another teacher can be +found." + +"It seemed to me, some while ago, that Mr. Samuel had a fancy for you. +Maybe I'm wrong, my dear; but you won't mind my speaking frankly. +And if I'm right, and he has begun pestering you, I can't blame you for +resigning. The man isn't safe." + +His look carried interrogation at once shy and fatherly. She forced +herself to meet his eyes and nod the answer which her cheeks already +published. + +"It is hateful," she murmured. "Yes, he asked me to marry him." + +"I _told_ you he was afflicted," said Mr. Benny, still with simple +seriousness; then, catching a sudden twinkle in her eyes, "Eh? What did I +say? My dear, I didn't mean it that way!" + + +Mr. Benny had judged at once more charitably and more correctly than +Hester. Had she looked up yesterday when she passed Mr. Sam at the foot +of the stairs, she might have guessed the truth from his face. + +The man was afflicted, and knew it; had suddenly discovered it, and was +afraid of himself--for the moment, abjectly afraid. All his life he had +been nursing a devil, feeding it on religion, clothing it in +self-righteousness, so carefully touching up its toilet that it passed for +saint rather than devil--especially in his own eyes, trained as they were +in self-deception. For every action, mean or illiberal or tricky or +downright cruel, he had a justificatory text; for his few defeats a +constant salve in the thought that his vanquishers were carnal men, sons +of Belial, and would find, themselves in hell some day. He was Dives or +Lazarus as occasion served. If a plan miscarried, the Lord was chastening +him; if, as oftener happened, it went prosperously, the Lord was looking +after His own; but always the plan itself, being _his_ plan, was certainly +righteous, because he was a righteous man. A good tree could not bring +forth evil fruit. + +But all this while the devil had been growing fat and strong; and now on a +sudden it had burst forth like a giant, mad, uncontrollable, flinging away +disguise, a devil for all to see. There was no text, even in Solomon, +which could be stretched to excuse tying up a small blind child and +flogging him with a belt. He had done a thing for which men go to prison. +Worse, he had not been far from a crime for which the law puts men to +death. In his rage he had been absolutely blind, each blow deadening +prudence, calling for another blow. If Hester Marvin had not run in, +where would he have ended? + +It happened to him now as it has happened to many a man fed upon +conventional religion and accustomed to walk an aisle in public and +eminent godliness. In the moment that he overbalanced public approval his +whole edifice crumbled and collapsed, leaving him no stay. He was down +from his eminence--down with the wild beasts; and among them the worst was +the wild beast within him. + +He had not philosophy enough even to render account with himself why he +hated the small blind child. One reason, and perhaps the chief, was that +he had already injured Clem; another, that Clem stood all unconsciously +between his conscience and his son Calvin. In his fashion Mr. Sam loved +his son, doomed to suffer, if the truth should ever be known, for his +father's bastardy. But--to his credit perhaps--Mr. Sam forgot all excuses +in sheer terror of himself; terror less of what he had done than of what +he might hereafter do. + +In panic of that devil he had placed himself in Hester's way, hoping +against hope that she might help. He had built some hopes on her, and now +in an hour or two all these hopes were merged in a desperate appeal to be +saved from himself. He almost forgot that he had written asking her to be +his wife; he could think only that she might possibly be his salvation. +But Hester had passed him by without a glance. After this, meaning no +cruelty at all, but merely from the instinct of self-preservation (than +which nothing is crueller), he did, as will be seen, the cruellest deed of +his life. + + +Mr. Benny was one of those rare souls who never dream of asking a favour +for themselves, but can be shamelessly importunate on behalf of a +fellow-creature. On receipt of Hester's resignation, which she submitted +to him first in private and then sent to him formally through the post, he +panted up the hill to seek an interview with Sir George Dinham. + +"Dear me!" said Sir George; "it happens oddly that I was on the point of +sending for you for the first time; and yet you have been my tenant for +close upon twenty years, I believe?" + +Mr. Benny might have seized the occasion to urge that his roof leaked and +the quay wall beneath his office badly needed repointing. For years he +had submissively relieved Sir George of these and other repairs. +But he had come to engage Sir George's interest for Miss Marvin, a young +person who had just thrown up her position as schoolmistress across the +water, in circumstances perfectly honourable to her. Sir George, perhaps, +would not press to know what those circumstances were; but Mr. Benny had +chanced to hear that the Matron of the Widows' Almshouses had earned her +pension and was resigning, and he ventured to recommend Miss Marvin for +the post. + +"And that again is odd," said Sir George, "for I was wondering if the +situation would be agreeable to her." + +Mr. Benny could scarcely believe his ears. + +"But I think," pursued Sir George, "we had better take one thing at a +time; and I wish to get the first job off my hands, because, strictly +speaking, it is not my business. Lady Killiow (as you may have heard) +requires a new steward, and has commissioned me to choose him for her. +I had thought of you, Mr. Benny." + +"Sir George!" + +"Why not? You were clerk to the late Mr. Rosewarne and enjoyed his +confidence, I believe?" + +"Sir George--Sir George!" Mr. Benny could only repeat with stammering +lips. If, a while ago, he could not believe his ears, just now he felt as +if the sky were tumbling about them. + +"There, my friend, go home and think it over. If you think well of the +offer, be at the ferry at nine o'clock to-morrow. I will meet you there +with the dogcart, and we can talk matters over on our way to Damelioc. +From Damelioc, after your interview with Lady Killiow, we will drive +straight to Bodmin; for I think you may be able to guess the first task +she will lay upon you as her steward." + +But Mr. Benny was too far bewildered. + +"She will ask you, if I am not mistaken, to make arrangements for bringing +home old Nicholas Vro's body and burying him where, as he would have said, +he belongs to lie--in his own parish churchyard. There are no relatives +to be consulted?" + +"Neither chick nor child, kith nor kin, Sir George." + +"God forgive me, I had come near saying 'so much the better.' +Lady Killiow is a proud woman, as you know, and of a pride that would +rejoice in bearing the fullest blame and making fullest amends. +But her friends can only be glad to get this scandal over and as quietly +as may be. I have written for the necessary order." + + +Once before we have seen Mr. Benny tempted to keep a secret from his wife. +This time he would have told, but could not. He sat down to tea with a +choking breast and a heart so big within him that it left no room for +food. He strove to eat, but could get no morsel past his lips. +At one moment the news seemed to bubble up within him, and his mouth +opened to shout it aloud; the next, his courage failed at his own vaunting +thoughts, and he reached a hand down to the table-leg, to 'touch wood,' +as humble men do to avert Nemesis if by chance they have let slip a +boastful word. Once he laughed outright, wildly, at nothing whatever. + +Nuncey set down the teapot and eyed her parent with a puzzled frown. +That frown had sat too often on her cheerful face during the past three +months. In truth, Mr. Benny as a regrater fell disastrously short of +success, being prone to sell at monstrous overweights, which ate up the +profits. When Nuncey at length forbade him to touch the scales, he gave +away apples to every child that chose to edge around the tail of the cart. + +"There's something wrong with father to-night," she said. "He's like a +thing hurried-in-mind. What's up with 'ee, my dear?--is it verses?" +She paused with a sudden dark suspicion. "I see'd William Badgery walkin' +after you down the street. Don't tell me you've let 'en persuade you into +buying that lot of eggs he was preachin' up for fresh? for, if you have, I +get no shoes this Christmas--that's all. Fresh? He've been salting them +down these three months, against the Christmas prices, and no size in 'em +to start with. I wouldn't sell 'em for sixpence the dozen." + +"Shoes?" Good Lord, what a question these boots and shoes had been for +all these years! Never a Saturday came round (it seemed to him) but one +or other of the family wanted soleing or heeling. And henceforth they +could all have shoes to their heart's content--and frocks--and new suits-- +and meat on the table without stint-- + +He set down his cup and rose hurriedly. In the act of pushing back his +chair he met his wife's eyes. They were watching him with anxious +concern--not with apparent love; but he alone knew what love lay behind +that look which once or twice of late he had surprised in them. +His own filled with sudden tears. No, he could not tell her now. +To-night, perhaps, when he and she were alone, he would tell her, as so +often he had told his worries and listened to hers. He dashed his frayed +cuff across his eyes and fairly bolted from the room. + +"It's about Nicky Vro that he's troublin'," said Mrs. Benny. +"Terrible soft-hearted he is; but you ought to know your father better by +this time than to upset 'en so." + + +An hour later word came to Hester--it was Shake who brought it--that Mr. +Benny would be glad to see her in the office. She obeyed at once, albeit +with some trepidation when she came to mount the steps and tap at the +door. She had learnt, however, from Nuncey that certain nights were set +aside for tattooing. Doubtless this would not be one of them. + +Four seamen sat within by the stove and under the light of the swinging +lamp, smoking, patiently awaiting their turn. In the fog of tobacco +smoke, which almost took Hester's breath away, they rose politely and +saluted her. Big, shy boys they seemed to her, with the whites of their +eyes extraordinarily clear against their swarthy complexions. Somehow she +felt at home with them instantly, and no more afraid than if they had been +children in her school. + +One of them called Mr. Benny from the tiny inner office, or cupboard, +where he conducted his confidential business, and the little man came +running out in a flurry with one hand grasping a handkerchief and the +other nervously thrust in his dishevelled hair. + +"You will forgive me, my dear, for sending? The truth is, I am at my +wits' end to-night and cannot concentrate myself. I have heard news +to-day--no, nothing to distress me--on the contrary."--He gazed round +helplessly. "It has upset me, though. I was wondering if you will be +very kind and help me?" + +"Help you?" echoed Hester. "Oh, Mr. Benny, you surely don't ask me to +write your letters for you!" + +"Not if you would find it distasteful, my dear." + +"But I don't know; I assure you I haven't an idea how to do it!" + +"You would find it come easy, for that matter." Mr. Benny drew a quill +pen from behind his right ear, eyed its point dejectedly for a moment, and +replaced it. "But, of course, if you feel like that, we'll say no more +about it, and I'm sorry to have troubled you." + +"If it's merely writing down from dictation--" + +"You will find it a little more than _that_," Mr. Benny admitted. + +Hester looked around on the faces of the seamen. They said nothing; they +even watched her with sympathy, as though, while dumbly backing Mr. +Benny's petition, they felt him to be asking too much; yet she divined +that they were disappointed. + +"I will try," she said with sudden resolve, and their approving murmur at +once rewarded her. "Only you must be patient, and forgive my mistakes." + +"That's a very good lass," said one of them aloud, as Mr. Benny shook her +by the hand and led her triumphantly to the little inner office. +Hester heard the words, and in spite of nervousness was glad that she had +chosen to be brave. + +The inner office contained a desk, a stool, and a deal chair. These, with +a swinging lamp, a shelf of books, and a Band of Hope Almanack, completed +its furniture. Indeed, it had room for no more, and its narrow dimensions +were dwarfed just now by an enormous black-bearded seaman seated in the +chair by the window, which stood open to the darkness. Although the month +was December, the wind blew softly from the southwest, and night had +closed in with a fine warm drizzle of rain. Beyond the window the +riding-lights of the vessels at anchor shone across the gently heaving +tide. + +The black-bearded seaman made a motion to rise, but realising that this +would seriously displace the furniture, contented himself with a +'Good-evening, miss,' and dropped back in his seat. + +"Good-evening," answered Hester. "Mr. Benny here has asked me to take his +place. I hope you don't mind?" + +"Lord bless you, I like it." + +"But I shall make a poor hand of it, I'm afraid." + +The man eyed her solemnly for five or six seconds, slowly turned the quid +of tobacco in his cheek, and spat out of window. "We'll get along +famous," he said. + +"He likes the window open," explained Mr. Benny, "because--" + +"I see." Hester nodded. + +"But I'll run and fetch a cloak for you." Without waiting for an answer, +Mr. Benny hurried from the office. + +To be deserted thus was more than Hester had bargained for, and for a +moment she felt helplessly dismayed. A sheet of paper, half-covered with +writing, lay on the desk, and she put out a hand for it. + +"Is this your letter? Perhaps you'll allow me to read it and see how far +you and Mr. Benny have gone." + +"That's the way. Only you mustn' give me no credit for it: I sits and +looks on. 'Never take a hand in a business you don't know'--that's my +motto." + +Hester wished devoutly that it had also been hers. She picked up the +paper and read-- + + "Dear Wife,--This comes hoping to find you in health as it leaves me + at present, and the children hearty. We made a good passage, and + arrived at Troy on the 14th inst., a romantic little harbour + picturesquely situated on the south coast of Cornwall. + Once a flourishing port, second only to London and Bristol, and still + retaining in its ivy-clad fort some vestiges of its former glories, + it requires the eye of imagination to summon back the days when + (as Hals tells us) it manned and sent forth more than forty ships to + the siege of Calais, A.D. 1347--" + +Hester glanced at her client dubiously. + +"That's all right, ain't it?" he asked. + +"Ye--es." + +"Far as I remember, it tallies with the last letter he fixed up for me. +Something about 'grey old walls' there was, too." + +"Yes, that comes two sentences below-- + + "Confronted with these evidences of decay, the visitor instinctively + exclaims to himself, 'If these grey old walls could speak, what a + tale might they not unfold!'--" + +"So he've put that in again? There's what you might call a sameness about +Benny, though he _do_ write different to anybody else." + +"And here are more dates, and an epitaph from one of the tombstones in the +churchyard! Indeed, Mr."-- + +"Salt. Tobias Salt--_and_ by natur'." + +"Indeed, Mr. Salt, I can't write a letter like this. To begin with, I +haven't the knowledge." + +"The Lord forbid!" + +"But I suppose your wife likes to read about these things?" + +"She can't read a word, bless you. She gets the parson to spell it out to +her, or the seamen's missionary. Yarmouth our home is." + +"She likes to hear about them, then?" + +"What? Sarah? Lord love ye, miss, you should see the woman!" +Mr. Salt chuckled heavily, and wound up by sending a squirt of +tobacco-juice out into darkness. "Mother of eight children, she is, and +makes 'em toe the mark at school and Sunday school. A woman like that +don't bother about grey old walls." + +"You are proud of her, I see." + +"Ought to be, I reckon. Why, to-day she can pick up two three-gallon +pitchers o' water and heft 'em along for a mile and more without turning a +hair." + +"And the children? How old are they?" + +"Eldest just turned eleven." + +"Why, then he must be able to read?" + +"'Tisn't a he, 'tis a her. Ay, I reckon 'Melia Jane should read well +before this." + +Hester took a fresh sheet of paper and began to write. + +"Listen to this, please," she said after a few sentences, "and tell me if +it will do--" + + "Dear Wife,--This comes hoping to find you in health, as it leaves me + at present, and the children hearty. I am sending this from Troy, + and I daresay you will take it to some friend to read; but tell + Amelia Jane, with my love, that in future she shall read her father's + letters to you. She must be getting a scholar by this time; and if + there's anything she can't explain, why you can take it to a friend + afterwards. We reached this port last Tuesday (the 14th) after a + good passage--" + +"Now tell me about your passage, please." + +At first Mr. Salt could only tell her that the passage had been a good +one, as passages go. But by feeding him with a suggestion or two, as men +feed a pump with a little water to make it work, by and by she found +herself listening to information in a flood. Now and then she interposed +a question, asking mainly about his wife and the home at Yarmouth. +She had picked up her pen again, and he, absorbed in his confidences, did +not perceive at what a rate she was making it travel over the paper. + +The door opened, and Mr. Benny reappeared with a shawl on his arm. +He glanced around nervously. "Mr. Salt, Mr. Salt! I put it to you, this +isn't quite fair. A fine talk I can hear you're having; but our friends +outside are getting impatient, and want to know when you'll let Miss +Marvin begin." + +"All right, boss. I've had a yarn here that's worth all the money. +Here's your shilling for it, and the letter can stand over till +to-morrow." + +"But I've written it!" Hester exclaimed. + +"Written it!" Mr. Salt's jaw dropped in amazement. + +"I don't know if it will do. Shall I read it over?" + +"Well, but this beats conjuring!" The reading ended, Mr. Salt slapped his +massive thigh. + +"You have done very well, my dear," said Mr. Benny; "very well indeed. +You have caught, as I might say, the note. Now I myself have great +difficulty in being literary and at the same time catching the note." + +There was something in the little man's confession--so modest, so generous +withal--which drew tears to her eyes, though her own elation may have had +some share in them. + +"Though there's one thing she've forgotten," said Mr. Salt, with a +twinkle. "My poor Sarah will get shock enough over this letter as 'tis; +but she'll get a worse one if we leave out the money order." + +The order having been made out in form, ready for him to take to the post +office, Mr. Salt bade farewell. They could hear him extolling, on his way +through the outer office, the talent of the operator within. + +"I feel like a dentist!" whispered Hester, turning to Mr. Benny with a +smile. The little man was looking at her wistfully. + +"Shall I call in the next?" he asked. "I am afraid, my dear, you are +finding this a longer job than you bargained for." + +"But I am enjoying it," she protested. "That is, if--Mr. Benny, you are +not annoyed by his foolish praises?" + +"My dear," he answered gravely, "they say that all literary persons are +jealous. If I were jealous it would not be because Mr. Salt praised you, +but because my own sense tells me that you do better than I what I have +been doing for twenty years." + +"If you feel like that, I won't write another letter," declared Hester. + +"That would be very foolish, my dear. And now I will tell you another +thing. Suppose that this discovery hurt me a little, yet see how good God +is in keeping back all these years until a moment when my heart happens to +be so full of good news that it forgets the soreness in a moment; and +again, how wise in gently correcting and reminding me of weakness when I +might be puffing myself up and believing that all my good fortune came of +my own merit." + +"What is your good news, dear Mr. Benny?" + +"You shall hear later on when I have told my wife." + + +More than an hour later, having dismissed her clients (for the last of +whom she had to compose a love-letter, the first she had written in her +life), Hester stepped across to the cottage to announce that her work was +over and ask if she might now turn down the lamps and rake out the stove. + +The Bennys' kitchen at first glance was uninhabited; and yet, as she +opened the door, she had heard voices within. Dropping her eyes to a +lower level, she halted on the threshold and would have withdrawn without +noise. In the penumbra beyond the circle of the lamp and the white +tablecloth Mr. and Mrs. Benny, Nuncey, and Shake were kneeling by their +chairs on the limeash, giving thanks. + +While Hester hesitated, the little man lifted his head, and, catching +sight of her, sprang to his feet. "Step ye in, my dear, and join with us! +For you, too, have news to hear and be thankful for." + +"But tell me your own good news and let me first be thankful for that." + +"Do'ee really feel like that towards us?" asked Nuncey, rising and coming +forward with joy and eager love in her eyes. + +"I ought to, surely, after these months of kindness." + +"Well, then--but first of all I must kiss 'ee, you dear thing!--well, +then, Dad's been offered Damelioc stewardship, and you're to be Mistress +of the Widows' Houses, and we're all going to be rich as Creases for ever +and ever, Amen!" + +"Croesus, my dear--besides, we're going to be nothing of the sort," +protested her father. + +Nuncey swept down upon him, caught him in her strong embrace, implanted a +sound kiss on the top of his head, and held him at arms' length with a +hand on either shoulder. + +"You're a dear little well-to-do father, and the best in the world. +But oh! you've come nigh breaking my heart these three months--for a worse +regrater there never was, an' couldn' be!" + +"Upon my word," said Mr. Benny, glancing over her shoulder at Hester with +a twinkle, "I seem to be getting good fortune with a heap of chastening." + + + +CHAPTER XXII. + + +CLEM IS LOST TO MYRA. + +The post of 'Mistress' to the Widows' Houses was a somewhat singular one. +The hospital itself had been founded in 1634 by an ancestor of Sir George +Dinham's, and dedicated to St. Peter, as a retreat for eleven poor women, +widows of husbands drowned at sea. From a narrow cobbled lane, behind the +parish church and in the shadow of its tower, you passed into a +quadrangle, two sides of which were formed by the lodgings, twelve in +number (the twelfth occupied by the caretaker, or Mistress), the other two +by the wash-house and store-buildings. In the centre of this courtyard +stood a leaden pump, approached by four pebbled paths between radiating +beds of flowers--Provence roses, Madonna lilies, and old perennials and +biennials such as honesty, sweet-william, snapdragon, the pink and white +everlasting pea, with bushes of fuchsia, southernwood, and rosemary. +Along the first floor of the alms-buildings ran a deep open gallery, or +upstairs cloister, where in warm weather the old women sat and knitted or +gossiped in the shade. + +The rule restricting admission to the widows of drowned mariners had been +gradually relaxed during the last fifty years, and was now a dead letter; +aged spinsters even, such as Aunt Butson, being received in default of +applicants with better title. Also Sir George's father, having once on a +time been called upon to depose a caretaker for ill-using the inmates, had +replaced her by a gentlewoman; and thinking to safeguard them in future by +increasing the dignity of the post, had rebuilt and enlarged the new +Mistress's lodgings, and increased her salary by endowment to eighty +pounds per annum. + +All this Sir George explained very delicately to Hester, on the morning of +Nicky Vro's funeral, having called at the school to seek an interview on +his way back from the churchyard. + +"But I am not a decayed gentlewoman," Hester objected; "at least, not yet. +I shall be standing in the way of someone who really wants this post, +while I am strong and able to earn my living. Also--please do not think +me ungrateful or conceited--to teach is my calling, and I take a pride in +it." + +"From all I hear, you have a right to take pride in it. But may I say +that these objections occurred to me and that I have a scheme for removing +them--a very happy scheme, if you will help. Now, in the first place, +will you put the personal question out of sight and consider my scheme on +its merits? And next, will you, in advising me, take account of my +ignorance?" + +Hester smiled. "I know," she said, "that kindness can be cunning. +I am going to be on my guard." + +"Well, but listen at any rate," he pleaded, with an eager stammer. +"Won't you agree with me that the education you give these children here +is dreadfully wasteful?" + +She glanced at him keenly. "If you are taking the ordinary ratepayer's +view--" she began. + +"I am not taking the ordinary ratepayer's view, except to this extent-- +that I think the ratepayers' and taxpayers' money should be spent to the +best advantage. But is it?--either here or in any parish in England?" + +"No, it is not." + +"Will you tell me why, Miss Marvin?" + +"Because," answered Hester, "we do a little good and then refuse to follow +it up. If we were to take a child and say, 'You shall be a farm +labourer,' or 'You shall be a domestic servant, and in due time marry a +labourer and rear his family; 'and if, content with this, we were to teach +these children just enough for their fate--the boy to plough and work a +threshing machine and touch his cap to his betters, the girl to cook and +sew and keep house on sixteen shillings a week--why, then there might be +something to say for us. We have not the heart to do this, and yet in +effect we do more cruelly. We are not tyrants enough to take a child of +eight and label him for life: we start him on a kind of education which +seems to offer him a chance; and then, just as the prospect should be +opening, we suddenly lose interest in him, wash our hands of him, turn him +adrift. Some few--a very few--have the grit to push on, unhelped by us, +and grasp their opportunity. But for one of these a thousand and more +fall back on their fate, and of our teaching the one thing they keep is +discontent. We have built a porch, to nowhere. We invest millions; and +just as our investment begins to repay us splendidly, we sell out, share +by share. That is why I think sometimes, Sir George, in my bitterness, +that education in England must be the most wasteful thing in the world." + +"If, in this corner of England, someone were to set himself to fight this +waste, would you help?" + +"As Mistress of the Widows' Houses?" + +Sir George laughed. "As Mistress of the Widows' Houses--and of a school +attached. I am thinking of a Charterhouse or a Christ's Hospital in a +small way; a foundation, that is, to include the old charity and a new and +efficient school; modern education worked on lines of the old collegiate +mediaeval systems--eh, Miss Marvin? To me, a high Tory, those old +foundations are still our best models." + +"Three or four of them have survived," said Hester gravely, and with as +little of irony as she could contrive. "Forgive me, Sir George--once more +I am going to speak ungratefully--but though neglect be our chief curse +just now, a worse may follow when rich folks wake up and endow education +in a hurry." + +"You condemn me offhand for a faddist?" + +"If you would only see that these things need an apprenticeship! +Take this very combination of school and hospital. Three or four have +survived, and are lodged in picturesque buildings, where they keep +picturesque old customs, and seem to you very noble and venerable. +So indeed they are. But what of the hundreds that have perished? +And of these survivors can you tell me one in which either the school or +the alms-house has not gone to the wall? The school, we will say, grows +into an expensive one for the sons of rich men; the almshouse dwindles +from a college for poor gentlemen down to a home into which wealthy men +job their retired servants. I grant you that our modern attempts to +combine almsgiving with teaching are not much better as a rule--are, +perhaps, even a little worse. If you have ever walked through one of our +public orphanages, for instance--" + +Sir George's face fell. "I have never visited one, Miss Marvin, and I +subscribe perhaps to half a dozen--out of sheer laziness, and because to +subscribe comes easier than to say 'No.' Yes; I am an incurable amateur, +and you are right, no doubt, in laughing at my scheme and refusing to look +at it." + +"But I don't, Sir George. I even think it may succeed, as it deserves, +and reward your kindness. Yes, and I have been arguing against myself as +much as against you, to warn myself against hoping too much. For there +must be disappointments." + +"What disappointments?" + +"Well, to begin with, you rich folks are impatient; you expect your money +to buy success at once and of itself. And then you expect gratitude." + +"I do not," Sir George asserted stoutly. + +"At least," said Hester, "it is only too plain that you are not getting +it." She dropped him a small deprecatory curtsey and laughed. +"And yet I _am_ grateful." + +"Yes," he answered gravely; "I understand. But since you do not quite +despise my scheme, will you come and discuss it with me, believing only +that I am in earnest?" + +So it was arranged that Hester should call on him next evening and go +through the plans he had been preparing for a week past. That such an +interview defied convention scarcely crossed her mind or his, Sir George +being one of those men who can neglect convention because their essential +honour stands above question. He received her in his library, and for an +hour they talked as might two men of business in friendly committee for +some public good. + +"By the way," said he, glancing up from his papers, "you were talking +yesterday of public orphanages. Have you heard that your little friend +Clem--the blind child--has been packed off to one?" + +"To an orphanage?" Hester echoed. "The children were not at school +to-day, but I had not heard a sound of this." + +"It is true; for I happened to call in at the station this morning, and +there on the platform I met Rosewarne with the child. The man was taking +his ticket to Paddington--a single ticket half-fare; and overhearing this +as we stood together by the booking-office, I made bold to ask him a few +questions. The child was to travel alone, in charge of the guard; to be +met at the journey's end, I suppose, by an official, and taken out to the +orphanage--I forget its name--an institution for the blind somewhere out +in the south-eastern suburbs." + +"Poor Myra!" + +"'Poor Clem!' I should rather say. He was not crying over it, but he +looked pretty forlorn and white, and his blindness made it pitiable. +I call it brutal; the man at least might have travelled up for company. +A journey of three hundred miles!" + +Nevertheless, Hester chiefly pitied Myra. As for Clem, the news relieved +her mind in part; since after witnessing Mr. Sam's outburst, she had more +than once shivered at the thought of child and uncle continuing to live +under one roof. + + +Poor Myra had spent the day pacing up and down her room like a caged +beast. The fate decreed and overhanging Clem had been concealed from her. +Had it been less incredible, instinct surely would have wakened her +suspicions before the last moment. At the last moment Susannah, having to +dress the child for his journey, met inquiries with the half-hearted lie +that he was bound on a trip to Plymouth with his uncle, to meet Aunt +Hannah, and return after a day or two in the _Virtuous Lady_. Susannah-- +weak soul--had furthered the conspiracy because she too had begun to fear +for Clem, and wished him well clear of his uncle's roof. She acted +'for the best,' but broke down in the act of tearing the children asunder, +and told her lie shamefacedly. The result was that Mr. Sam, hearing +Myra's screams overhead as he paced the hall, had rushed upstairs, caught +her by both wrists as she clung to her brother, forced her into her own +bedroom, and turned and pocketed the key. + +Four times since, in that interminable day of anguish, Susannah had come +pleading and whimpering to the door with food. Mr. Sam, on returning from +the station, had given her the key with instructions to release the girl +on a promise of good behaviour. + +"Be sensible, Miss Myra--now, do! 'Tis to a home he's gone, where he'll be +looked after and taught and tended, and you'll see him every holidays. +A fine building, sure 'nough! Look, I've brought you a picture of it!" + +Susannah, defying instructions, had unlocked and opened the door. +Myra snatched the paper from her--it was, in fact, a prospectus of the +institution--crumpled it up and thrust it in her pocket. With that, the +last gust of her passion seemed to spend itself. She turned, and walking +straight to the window-seat, coiled herself among the cushions with face +averted and chin upon hand. To Susannah the traitress she deigned no +word. + +Thrice again Susannah came pleading, each time with a tray and something +to tempt Myra's appetite. Myra did not turn her head. Departing for the +fourth time, Susannah left the door ajar. The siege, then, was raised, +the imprisonment over. Myra listened to her footsteps descending the +stairs, walked to the door, shifted the key from the outer to the inner +keyhole, and locked herself in. By this time the wintry dusk had begun to +fall. Resuming her seat by the window, she fell to watching the courtyard +again, her body motionless, her small brain working. + +Dusk had deepened to darkness in the courtyard when she heard a footfall +she recognised. It was Archelaus Libby's, on his way home from school to +his loft, to deposit his books there and wash before seeking his tea in +the kitchen. + +Myra straightened her body, and opened the window softly. + +"Archelaus!" she called as loudly as she dared. + +"Miss Myra?" The footsteps halted. + +"Hush, Archelaus, and come nearer. I want you to do something for me." + +"Yes, Miss Myra." + +"It may get you into trouble. I want you to fetch the short ladder from +under the linhay, and fix it against the window here, without making a +noise." + +For a moment he made no answer. But he had understood; for she heard him +walking away toward the linhay, and by and by he returned panting, and +sloped the ladder against the sill as she bade him. By this time Myra had +found a plateful of biscuits, and crammed her pocket full, and was ready +to descend. + +"But what is the meaning of it?" asked Archelaus, as she clambered down to +him. + +"They have stolen away Clem, and this morning they locked me in. Now take +the ladder back and hang it in its place, and I will thank you for ever +and ever." + +"But I don't understand!" protested Archelaus. "Stolen away Master Clem? +Who has stolen him? And what are you going to do?" + +"I am going to find him--that's all," said Myra, and ran off into the +darkness. + +She could reckon on two friends in the world--Mr. Benny and Tom +Trevarthen. Aunt Hannah was far away, and Miss Marvin (though now +forgiven, and indeed worshipped for having interfered to protect Clem from +his flogging) could not be counted on for effective help. + +Tom Trevarthen and Mr. Benny--it was on Tom that she pinned her hope; for +Tom (she had heard) was shipped on board the _One-and-All_ schooner; and +the _One-and-All_ was ready to sail for London; and somewhere near +London--so the paper in her pocket had told her--lay the dreadful place in +which Clem was hidden. She could find the vessel; the _One-and-All_ was +moored--or had been moored last night--at the buoy under the hill, ready +for sea. But to find the vessel and to find Tom Trevarthen were two very +different things. To begin with, Tom would be useless unless she +contrived to speak with him alone; to row straight to the schooner and +hail her would spoil all. Moreover, on the night before sailing he would, +most likely, be enjoying himself ashore. But where? Peter Benny might be +able to tell. Peter Benny had a wonderful knack of knowing the movements +of every seaman in the port. + +She ran down the dark street to the alley over which poor Nicky Vro's +signboard yet glimmered in the light of the oil lamp at the entrance. +The cottage still lacked a tenant, and it had been nobody's business to +take the board down. On the frape at the alley's end his ferryboat lay +moored as he had left it. Myra tugged at the rope and drew the boat in. + +As it drew alongside out of the darkness she leapt on board and cast off. +The paddles, as she laboriously shipped them between the thole-pins, were +unconscionably heavy; she knew little of rowing, and nothing of +double-sculling. But the tide helped her. By pulling now one paddle, now +another, she worked the boat across and down towards the ladder and the +quay-door at the end of Mr. Benny's yard. + +Nearing it, she found herself in slack water, and the boat became more +manageable, giving her time between the strokes to glance over her +shoulder and scan the dark shadow under the longshore wall, where each +garden and alley-way had its quay-door and its ladder reaching down into +the tide. Now the most of these quay-doors were painted green or blue, +but Mr. Benny's a light grey, which in the darkness should have made it +easily discernible. Yet for some while she could not find it. + +Suddenly, as she threaded her way along, scarcely using her paddles now +except to fend off the boats which, lying peaceably at their moorings, +seemed to crowd around with intent to impede her, a schooner's masts and +spars loomed up before her high against the inky night. Then she +understood. The vessel--her name, the _One-and-All_, in white letters on +her forward bulwarks, glimmered into sight as Myra passed--lay warped +alongside the wall, with her foreyard braced aslant to avoid chafing the +roof of Mr. Benny's office, and her mainmast and standing rigging all but +entirely hiding Mr. Benny's quay-door, the approach to which she +completely obstructed. A little above her forestay a small window, +uncurtained and brightly lit, broke the long stretch of featureless black +wall. This was the window of Mr. Benny's inner office, and within, as she +checked her way, catching at the gunwale of one among the tethered boats, +Myra could see the upper half of a hanging lamp and the shadow of its +reflector on the smoky ceiling. + +Mr. Benny would be seated under that lamp, no doubt. But how could she +reach him? + +The _One-and-All_ lay head-to-stream, and so deep in the water that the +tide all but washed her bulwarks, still grey with the dust of china-stone +as she had come from her loading. Nowadays no British ship so +scandalously overladen would be allowed to put to sea; but the +Plimsoll-mark had not yet been invented to save seamen from their +employers. + +She lay so low that Myra, peering into the darkness, could almost see +across decks to the farther bulwarks; and the decks were deserted. +She mounted no riding-lamp, and no glimmer of light showed from hatchway, +deckhouse, or galley. + +Minutes passed, and, as still no sign of life appeared on board, Myra grew +bolder and pushed across for a nearer view. Yes; the deck was deserted, +and only the deck intervened between her and Mr. Benny's quay-door, by the +sill of which the tide ran lapping and sucking at the crevices of the +wall. She hardened her heart. Even if her footstep gave the alarm below, +she could dash across and through the doorway before being seized or even +detected. She laid both hands on the clay-dusted bulwarks and hoisted +herself gently. The boat--she had done with it--slipped away noiselessly +from under her and away into darkness. + +She had meant to clear the ship with a rush; but as her feet touched the +deck her courage failed her, and she tiptoed forward stealthily, gaining +the shadow of the deckhouse and pausing there. + +And there, in the act of crouching to spring across the few remaining +yards, she drew back, crouching lower yet; for, noiseless as she, the dark +form of a man had stepped forward and framed itself in the grey glimmering +doorway. + +For an instant she made sure that he was about to step on board. But many +seconds passed, and still he waited there--as it seemed to her, in the +attitude of a man listening; though to what he listened she could not +guess. She herself heard no sound but the lapping of the tide. + +By and by, gripping the ladder-rail and setting one foot against the +_One-and-All's_ bulwarks to steady himself, the man leaned outboard and +sideways until a faint edge of light from the office window fell on his +upturned face. + +It was the face of her uncle. + +Fascinated by terror, following his gaze--by instinct seeking for help, if +any might be found--Myra lifted her face to the window. That too was +darkened for the instant by a man's form; and as he crossed the room to +the chair beside the desk, she recognised Tom Trevarthen. + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. + + +HESTER WRITES A LOVE-LETTER. + +Mr. Salt must have been preaching Hester's talent at large among seamen of +the port, for when she returned from her interview with Sir George +Mr. Benny met her at the kitchen door with news that no less than six +sailors awaited her in the office, and that two or three had been +patiently expecting her for an hour at least. + +"Tis a great tax on you, my dear, and I tried to reason wi' them; but they +wouldn't take 'No' for an answer. What's more, when I retire from the +business I shan't be honestly able to sell you the goodwill of it, +for they won't have my services at any price." + +Hester laughed. "You won't even get me to bid," she assured him. +"We shall soon be too busy for letter-writing, and must close the office; +but to-night I suppose we cannot disappoint them." + +So, with a sigh of resignation and an envious glance at the cosy fire, +she turned and stepped briskly down the courtyard to the office. +There, as Mr. Benny had promised, she found six expectant mariners, and +for an hour wrote busily, rapidly. Either she was growing cleverer at the +business, or her talk with Sir George had keyed her to this happy pitch. +She felt--it happens sometimes, if rarely, to most of us--in tune with all +the world; and in those illuminated hours we feel as if our +fellow-creatures could bring us no secret too obscure for our +understanding, no trouble hopeless of our help. "The light of the body is +the eye; if, therefore, thine eye be single, thy whole body shall be full +of light." Hester found herself divining without effort what her clients +wished her to write, and as easily translating the inarticulate message +into words. It was superfluous for them to thank her as they did; her own +inner voice told her she had done well. + +At length they were gone, and she followed them so far as the outer +office, to rake out the fire and tidy up for the night. As she stooped +over the stove she was startled by a noise from the inner room--a noise as +of someone moving the window-sash. But how could this be? Perhaps the +sash-cord had parted, letting the pane slip down with a run-- + +It did not occur to her, though startled for the moment, to be afraid, or +even to suspect any cause for fear. Her mind was still busy with this +practical explanation when she opened the door and her eyes fell on Tom +Trevarthen. + +His back was turned towards her as he closed the window by which he had +just entered; but he faced about with a smile, ignoring the alarm in her +face and the hand she put out against the door-jamb for support. + +"Good-evenin', miss! You'll excuse my coming by the shortest way--" + +"But--but _how_ did you come?" she gasped. + +He laughed. "Easy enough: I swung myself up by the schooner's forestay. +Eh? Didn't you know the _One-and-All's_ moored here just underneath? +Then I must ha' given you a rare fright." + +"Yes," said Hester, slowly getting back her composure, "you certainly +frightened me; and I call it a very silly trick." + +She said it with a sudden vehemence which surprised herself. It brought +the colour back to her face, too. The young sailor stared at her. + +"Well," he said admiringly, "you have a temper! But there's times when +_you_ make mistakes, I reckon." + +She supposed him to allude to her unhappy intrusion upon the tattooing. +Her colour deepened to a hot and lively red, and between shame and scorn +she turned and walked from him into the outer office. + +"Nay, now!" He followed her, suppliant. "Nay, now!" he repeated, as one +might coax a child. "Simme I can't open my mouth 'ithout angering you, +Miss Marvin; an' yet, ignorant as I be, 'tis plain to me you don't mean no +hurt." + +Now Hester had meant to walk straight out of the office and leave him. +It would be hard to say precisely on what second thought she checked +herself and, picking up the poker, sedulously resumed her raking-out of +the stove. Partly, no doubt, she repented of having taken offence when he +meant none. He had been innocent, and her suspicion of him recoiled back +in self-contempt. It was a relief to hear him in turn accusing her +unjustly. It gave her fresh ground, on which she really could defend +herself. + +"Hurt?" she echoed half defiantly, stooping and raking at the cinders. + +"Why, of course, you hurt," he insisted. "'Tis so queer to me you can't +see it. Just reckon up all the harm this Rosewarne have a-done and is +doing: Mother Butson's school closed, and the poor soul bedridden with +rheumatics, all through being forced to seek field-work, at her time o' +life and in this autumn's weather! My old mother driven into a +charity-house. Nicky Vro dead in Bodmin gaol. Where was the fair play? +Master Clem, I hear, parted from his sister and packed off this very day +to a home in London--lucky if 'tis better'n a gaol--" + +"Do you accuse _me_ of all these wrongs?" + +"No, I don't. But in most of 'em you've been mixed up, and in all of 'em +you might have used power over the man. Where have you put in an oar +except to make matters worse?" + +It was on her lips to tell him that she had resigned the teachership; but +she forbore. + +"Do you know," she answered quietly, "that half-truths may be worse than +lies, and a charge which is half-true the most cruelly unjust? We will +agree that I have done more harm here than good. But do you accuse me of +doing it wilfully, selfishly?" + +"That's where I can't make you out," he said. "I can't even make out your +doing wrong at all. Thinks I sometimes, ''Tis all a mistake. Go, look at +her face, all made for goodness if ever a face was; try her once more, an' +you'll be sorry for thinkin' ill of her.' That's the way of it. But then +I come and find you mixed up in this miserable business, and all that's +kind in you seems to harden, and all that's straight to run crooked. +There's times I think you couldn't do wrong if you weren't so sure of +doing right; and there's times, when I hear of your being kind to the +school-children, I think it must be some curst ill-luck of my own that +brings us always ath'art-hawse." + +Beneath the lamplight his eyes searched hers appealingly, as a child's +might; yet Hester wondered rather at the note of manliness in his voice--a +new note to her, but an assured one. Whatever the cause, Tom Trevarthen +was a lad no longer. + +"Why should you suppose," she asked, "that I have power over Mr. +Rosewarne?" + +"Haven't you?" + +The simple question confounded her, and she blushed again, as one detected +in an untruth. It was as Tom said; some perverse fate impelled her at +every turn to show at her worst before him. + +"Good Lord!" he said slowly, watching her face. "You don't tell me you're +going to marry him!" + +She should have obeyed her first impulse and said 'No' hotly. The word +was on her lips when a second wave of indignation swelled within her and +swept over the first, drowning it, and, with it, her speech. What right +had he to question her, or what concern with her affairs? She threw back +her head proudly, to look him in the face and ask him this. But he had +turned from her. + +His disgust angered her, and once more she changed her impulse for the +worse. + +"It seems," said she contemptuously, "that you reserve the right of making +terms with Mr. Rosewarne." + +He turned at the door of the inner office and regarded her for a moment +with a dark frown. + +"What do you mean by that?" His voice betrayed the strain on his +self-command. + +"Mr. Rosewarne owns the _One-and-All_, does he not? If, after what has +happened, you accept his wages, you might well be a little less censorious +of other folk's conduct." + +If the shaft hit, he made no sign for the moment. "I reckon," he +answered, with queer deliberateness, "your knowledge of ships and +shipowners don't amount to much, else you wouldn't talk of Rosewarne's +doing me a favour." He paused and laughed, not aloud but grimly. +"The _One-and-All's_ insured, Miss Marvin, and pretty heavily over her +value. I'd take it as a kindness if you found someone fool enough to +insure _me_ for a trip in her." + +"I don't understand." + +"No, I reckon you don't. They finished loading her last night, and we +moored her out in the channel, ready for the tug this morning. +Before midnight she was leaking there like a basket, and by seven this +morning she was leaking worse than a five-barred gate. The tug had just +time to pluck us alongside here, or she'd have sunk at her moorings; and +when we'd warped her steady and the tide left her, the water poured out of +a hole I could shove my hand through--not the seams, mark you, though they +leaked bad enough--but a hole where the china-stone had fairly knocked her +open; and the timber all round it as rotten as cheese. All day, between +tides, they've been sheathing it over, and packing the worst places in her +seams; and to-night the crew, being all Troy men, are taking one more +sleep ashore than they bargained for. They want it, too, after their +spell at the pumps." + +"Then why are you left on board?" + +"Mainly because I've no home to go to; and somebody must act +night-watchman. The skipper himself has bustled ashore with the rest. +I reckon this morning's work scared him a bit, hand-in-glove though he is +with Rosewarne; but he must be recovering, because just before stepping +off he warned me against putting up the riding-light. There's no chance +of anyone fouling us where we lie, and we can save two-penn'orth of oil." + +"But you don't tell me Mr. Rosewarne sends his ships to sea, knowing them +to be rotten?" + +He hunched his shoulders. "Maybe he does; maybe he don't. It don't +matter to me, the man's going to hell or not. But you seem to think I +take his wages as a favour." + +"Then why do you take them at all, at such a risk?" + +"Because," he burst out, "you've come here and driven my mother to an +almshouse, and I must earn money to get her out of it. If I'd a-known you +was coming here with your education, I'd have picked up some of it and +been prepared for you. A mate's certificate doesn't mean much in these +days. Men like Rosewarne want a skipper who'll earn insurance-money and +save oil. Still, I could have tried. But, like a fool, I was young and +in a good berth, and let my chances slip; and then you came along and +spoilt all." + +"Did you seek me out to-night to tell me this?" she steadied herself to +ask. + +He lowered his eyes. "I want you to write a letter for me," he said, and +added, after a pause. "That's what comes of wanting education." + +Another and a very awkward pause followed. This discovery of his +illiteracy shocked and hurt her inexpressibly. She could not even say +why. Good sense warned her even in the instant of disappointment that a +man might not know how to read or write and yet be none the less a good +man and trustworthy. And even though the prejudice of her calling made +her treat the defect too seriously, why in Tom Trevarthen should that +shock her which in other seamen she took as a matter of course? + +Yet in her shame for him she could lift her eyes; and he still kept his +lowered upon the floor. + +"To whom do you want me to write?" she asked. + +"It's to a girl," he answered doggedly; and the words seemed to call up a +dark flush in his face, which a moment before had been unwontedly pale-- +though this she did not perceive. + +"A girl?" + +"That's so; a girl, miss, if you don't mind--a girl as it happens I'm fond +of." + +"A love-letter? Is that what you mean?" + +"If you don't mind, Miss Marvin?" + +"Why on earth should I mind?" she asked, with a heat unintelligible to +herself as to him. + +A suspicion crossed her mind that the young woman might not be +over-respectable; but she dismissed it. If the message were such as she +could indite, she had no warrant to inquire further; and yet, "Is it quite +fair to her?" she added. + +The question plainly confused him. "Fair, miss?" + +"You told me a minute ago that you found it hard to earn money for your +mother; and now it seems you think of marrying." + +"No, miss," said he simply; "I can't think of it at all. And that's +partly what I want to tell her." + +Hester frowned. "It's queer you should come to me, whom you accuse of +interfering to your harm. If I am guilty on other counts, I am guilty too +of coming between you and this young woman." + +He smiled faintly. "And that's true in a way," he allowed; "but you'll +see I don't bear malice. The letter'll prove that, if so be you'll kindly +write it for me." + +He said it appealingly, with his hand on the doorhandle. She bent her +head in consent. Flinging the door open, he stood aside to let her pass. + + +It was a moment later as he crossed over to the client's chair that Myra +caught sight of him from the schooner's deck. The child cowered back into +the shadow of the deck-house, her eyes intent again on the listener +leaning out from the quay-door. He could not even see what she had seen; +and if Tom was in talk with anyone inside her own ears caught no sound of +it. Nevertheless her uncle's attitude left no room to doubt that he was +playing the spy, and trying, at least, to listen. + + +"What name?" asked Hester, dipping her pen. + +"What name? Eh, to be sure,"--Tom Trevarthen hesitated for a moment. +"Put down Harriet Sands." She glanced up, and he nodded. "Yes, that'll +do--Harriet Sands, of Runcorn." + +"She must have some nearer address than that. Runcorn is a large town, is +it not?" + +He pondered, or seemed to ponder. "Then we'll put down 'Sailors' Return +Inn, Quay Street, Runcorn.' That'll find her, as likely as anywhere." + +Hester wrote the address and glanced up inquiringly; but his eyes were +fastened on the desk where her hand rested, and on the virgin sheet of +notepaper placed ready for use. + +"A public-house? It wanted only that!" she told herself. Aloud she said, +"'My dearest Harriet'--Is that how you begin?" + +He appeared to consider this slowly. "I suppose so," he answered at +length, with a shade of disappointment in his voice. + +"And next, I suppose, you say, 'This comes hoping to find you well as it +leaves me at present.'" + +"Don't 'ee--don't 'ee, co!" he implored her almost with a cry of pain; and +then, scarcely giving her time to be ashamed of her levity, he broke out, +"They tell me you can guess a man's thoughts and write 'em down a'most +before he speaks. Why won't you guess 'em for me? Write to her that when +we parted she was unkind; but be she unkind for ever and ever, in my +thoughts she will be the best woman in the world. Tell her that whatever +she may do amiss, in my eyes she'll last on as the angel God A'mighty +meant her to be, and all because I love her and can't help it. Say that +to her, and say that there's degrees between us never to be crossed, and I +know it, and have never a hope to win level with her; but this once I will +speak and be silent all the rest o' my days. Tell her that there's bars +between us, but the only real one is her own self; that for nothing would +she be beyond my reach but for being the woman she is." + +Hester laid down the pen and looked up at him with eyes at once dim and +shining. + +"I cannot write this," she said, her lips stammering on the words. +"I am not worthy--I laughed at you." + +"Tell her," he went on, "that I'm a common seaman, earnin' two pound a +month, with no book-learning and no hopes to rise; tell her that I've an +old mother to keep--that for years to come there's no chance of my +marryin'; and then tell her I'm glad of it, for it keeps me free to think +only of her. Write all that down, Miss Marvin." + +"I cannot," she protested. + +Very gently but firmly he laid a brown strong hand over hers as it rested +on the letter. In a second he withdrew it, but in that second she felt +herself mastered, commanded. She took up the pen and wrote. + + +"I have used your own words and none of mine," she said, when she had +finished. "Shall I read them over to you?" + +"No." He took the letter, folded it, and placed it in the envelope she +handed him. "Why didn't you put it into better words?" he asked. + +"Because I could not. Trust a woman to know what a woman likes. +If I were this--this Harriet."--Her voice faltered and came to a halt. + +"Yes?" He waited for her to continue. + +"Why, then, that letter would make me a proud woman." + +"Though it came from a common sailor?" + +"She would not think first of that. She would be proud to be so loved." + +"Thank you," said he slowly, and, drawing a shilling from his pocket, laid +it on the desk. "Good-night and good-bye, Miss Marvin." + +He moved to the window and flung up the sash. Seated astride the ledge, +he looked back at her with a smile which seemed to say, "At last we are +friends!" The next moment he had reached out a hand, caught hold of the +_One-and-All's_ forestay, and swung himself out into the darkness. + +Hester, standing alone in the little office, heard a soft sliding sound +which puzzled her, followed by the light thud of his feet as he dropped +upon deck. She leaned out for a moment before closing the window. +All was silent below, save for the lap of the tide between the schooner +and the quay-wall. + + +As Tom Trevarthen opened the window and leaned out to grasp the forestay, +Myra, still cowering by the deck-house, saw her uncle swing himself +hurriedly back into the shadow of the quay-door. She too retreated a +pace; and with that, her foot striking against the low coaming of an open +hatchway, with a clutch at air she pitched backward and down into the +vessel's hold. + +She did not fall far, the _One-and-All_ being loaded to within a foot or +two of the hatches. Her tumble sent her sprawling upon a heap of loose +china-clay. She felt it sliding under her and herself sliding with it, +softly, down into darkness. She was bruised. She had wrenched her +shoulder terribly, but she clenched her teeth and kept back the cry she +had all but uttered. + +The sliding ceased, and she tried to raise herself on an elbow out of the +choking smother of clay-dust. The effort sent a stab of pain through her, +exquisite, excruciating. She dropped forward upon her face, and there in +the darkness she fainted. + + +Hester, having closed the window, put out the lights quietly, pausing in +the outer office for a glance at the raked-out stove. Outside, as she +locked the door behind her, she paused again at the head of the step for +an upward look at the sky, where, beyond the clouds, a small star or two +twinkled in the dark square of Pegasus. She never knew how close in that +instant she stood to death. Within six paces of her crouched a man made +desperate by the worst of terrors--terror of himself; and maddened by the +worst of all provocatives--jealousy. + +He had come to her on a forlorn hope, believing that she only--if any +helper in the world--could be his salvation from the devil within him. +Not in cruelty, but in fear--which can be crueller than cruelty itself--he +had packed off the helpless blind boy beyond his reach. He had promised +himself that by dismissing the temptation he could lay the devil at a +stroke and finally. On his way back from the station he had heard +whispered within him the horrible truth: that he was a lost man, without +self-control. + +He had sought her merely by the instinct of self-preservation. She had +cowed and mastered him once. In awful consciousness of his infirmity he +craved only to be mastered again, to be soothed, quieted. He nodded to +the men and women he passed in the streets. They saw nothing amiss with +him--nothing more than his habitual straight-lipped visage and ill-fitting +clothes. + +He had dogged her to the office and listened outside for one, two, three +hours. In the end, as he believed, he had caught her at tryst with his +worst enemy--with the man who had knocked him down and humiliated him. +Yet in his instant need he hated Tom Trevarthen less as a rival in love, +less from remembered humiliation, than as a robber of the sole plank which +might have saved him from drowning. + +So long had the pair been closeted together that a saner jealousy might +have suggested more evil suspicions. His jealousy passed these by as of +no account. He could think only of his need and its foiled chance: his +need was more urgent than any love. He had come for help, and found her +colloguing with his enemy. + +In his abject rage he could easily have done her violence and as easily +have run forward and cried her pity. Between the two impulses he crouched +irresolute and let her pass. + +Hester came down the steps slowly, passed within a yard of him, and as +slowly went up the dark courtyard. For the last time she paused, with her +hand on Mr. Benny's door-latch; and this was what she said there to +herself, silently-- + +"But why Harriet?--of all the hateful names!" + + + +CHAPTER XXIV. + + +THE RESCUE. + +"Style," said Mr. Joshua Benny, "has been defined as a gift of saying +anything, of striking any note in the scale of human feelings, without +impropriety. We cannot all have distinction, Mr. Parker--what I may call +the _je ne sais quoi_"-- + +Mr. Joshua put this with a fine modesty, the distinction of his own style +being proverbial--in Spendilove's Press Supply Bureau at any rate. He +might have added with a wave of the hand, "You see to what it has advanced +me!" for whereas the rest of Spendilove's literary men toiled in two +gangs, one on either side of a long high-pitched desk, and wrote slashing +leaders for the provincial press, Mr. Joshua exercised his lightness of +touch upon 'picturesque middles' in a sort of loose-box partitioned off +from the main office by screens of opaque glass. This den--he spoke of it +as his 'scriptorium'--had a window looking out upon an elevated railway, +along which the trains of the London, Chatham, and Dover line banged and +rattled all day long. For Spendilove's (as it was called by its +familiars) inhabited the second floor of a building close to the foot of +Ludgate Hill. The noise no longer disturbed Mr. Joshua, except when an +engine halted just outside to blow off steam. + +Mr. Joshua leaned back in his writing-chair, tapped a galley proof with +admonitory forefinger, and gazed over his spectacles upon Mr. Parker--a +weedy youth with a complexion suggestive of uncooked pastry. + +"We cannot all have distinction, Mr. Parker, nor can it be acquired by +effort. Vigour we may cultivate, and clearness we must; it is essential. +On a level with these I should place propriety. Propriety teaches us to +regulate our speech by the occasion; to be incisive at times and at times +urbane; to adapt the 'how' to the 'when,' as I might put it. I do not +think--I really do not think--that Christmas Eve is a happily chosen +moment for calling Mr. Disraeli 'a Jew adventurer.'" + +"Mr. Makins, sir, who wrote yesterday's Liberal leader for the syndicate, +wound up by saying the time had gone by for mincing our opinion of the +front Opposition Bench. He warned me last night, when I took over his +job, to pitch it strong. He had it on good authority that the +constituencies have been a good deal shaken by Mr. Gladstone's Army +Purchase _coup_, and some straight talk is needed to pull them together, +in the eastern counties especially." + +"You are young to the work, Mr. Parker. You may depend upon it--you may +take it from me--that Spendilove's will not fail in straight talking, on +either side of the question. But we must observe what our Gallic +neighbours term _les convenances_. By the way, has Makins gone off for +the holidays?" + +"He was to have gone off last night, sir; but he turned up this morning to +write Sam Collins's 'Tory Squire' column for the _Northern Guardian_, and +a syndicate-middle on 'Christmas Cheer in the Good Old Times.' +Collins sent him a wire late last night; his wife is down with pneumonia." + +"Tut, tut--send him to me. A good-hearted fellow, Makins! Tell him I've +a dozen old articles that will fix him up with 'Christmas Cheer' in less +than twenty minutes. I keep them indexed. And if he wants it illustrated +I can look him out a dozen blocks to take his choice from--'Bringing in +the Boar's Head,' and that sort of thing." + +"I beg your pardon, sir, but before I send him there's a party of four in +the lower office waiting to see you--one of them a child--and seafaring +folk by their talk. They walked in while I was sitting alone there, +finishing off my article, and not a word would they tell of their business +but that they must speak to you in private. It's my belief they've come +straight off a wreck, and with a paragraph at least." + +"Seafaring folk, do you say?" It was a cherished hope of Mr. Joshua +Benny's that one of these days Spendilove's would attract private +information to its door, and not confine itself to decorating so much of +the world's news as had already become common property. + +"They asked for you, sir, as 'Mr. Joshua Benny, the great writer.'" + +"Dear me, I hope you have not kept them waiting long? Show them up, +please; and--here, wait a moment--on your way you can take Makins an +armful of my commonplace books--eighteen sixty-three to seven; that will +do. Tell him to look through the indexes himself; he'll find what he +wants under 'Yule.'" + +If Mr. Joshua's visitors had come, as Mr. Parker surmised, straight off a +wreck, the first to file into his office had assuredly salved from +calamity a wonderful headgear. This was Mrs. Purchase, in a bonnet +crowned with a bunch of glass grapes; and by the hand she led Myra, who +carried one arm in a sling. The child's features were pinched and pale, +and her eyes unnaturally bright. Behind followed Mr. Purchase and Tom +Trevarthen, holding their caps, and looking around uneasily for a mat to +wipe their shoes on. + +No such shyness troubled Mrs. Purchase. "Good-morning!" she began +briskly, holding out a hand. + +Mr. Joshua took it helplessly, his eyes for the moment riveted on her +bonnet. It bore no traces of exposure to sea-water, and he transferred +his scrutiny to the child. + +"You don't remember me," pursued Mrs. Purchase cheerfully. "But I'd have +picked you out from a thousand, though I han't seen you since you was _so_ +high." She spread out a palm some three feet or less from the floor. +"I'm Hannah Purchase, that used to be Hannah Rosewarne, daughter of John +Rosewarne of Hall. You know now who I be, I reckon; and this here's my +niece, and that there's my husband. The young man in the doorway ain't no +relation; but he comes from Hall too. He's Sal Trevarthen's son. +You remember Sal Trevarthen?" + +"Ah, yes--yes, to be sure. Delighted to see you, madam--delighted," +stammered Mr. Joshua, who, however, as yet showed signs only of +bewilderment. "And you wish to see me?"-- + +"Wish to see you? Man alive, we've been hunting all Fleet Street for you! +Talk about rabbit warrens! Well, when 'tis over 'tis over, as Joan said +by her wedding, and here we be at last." + +She paused and looked around. + +"Place wants dusting," she observed. "Never married, did 'ee? I reckoned +I'd never heard of your marrying. Your brother now has eleven of 'em-- +children, I mean; and yet you feature him wonderful, though fuller in the +face. But the Lord's ways be past finding out." + +"Amen," said her husband, paying his customary tribute to a scriptural +quotation, and added, "They don't keep over many chairs in this office." +He addressed this observation to Tom Trevarthen with an impartial air as +one announcing a scientific discovery. + +"Thank you," said Mrs. Purchase, seating herself in a chair which Mr. +Joshua made haste to provide. "You will oblige me by paying no attention +to 'Siah. Well, as I was saying, it's a mercy the Lord has made you the +man you be; for we're in want of your help, all four of us." + +"If I can be of service,"--Mr. Joshua murmured. + +"I remember," said Mrs. Purchase, arranging her bonnet with an air of one +coming to business, "when I was a little girl, reading in a history book +about a man called Bucket, who fell in love with a black woman in foreign +parts; or she may have been brown or whitey-brown for all I can remember +at this distance of time. But, anyway, he was parted from her, and came +home to London here, and all she knew about him was his name 'Bucket.' +Well, she took ship and kept on saying 'Bucket' till somewhere in London +she found him. And if that happened once, it ought to be able to happen +again, especially in these days of newspapers, and when we've got the +address." + +Mrs. Purchase produced a crumpled slip of paper, and handed it to Mr. +Joshua, who adjusted his spectacles. + +"An institution for the blind, and near Bexley, apparently." +He glanced up in mild interrogation. + +"What sort of place is it? Nice goings-on there, I'll promise you; and if +'tis better than penal servitude I shall be surprised, seeing that Sam +Rosewarne is hand-in-glove with it. Never you mind, my dear," she added, +turning to Myra, who shivered, holding her hand. "We'll get him out of +it, or there's no law in England." + +Mr. Joshua, still hopelessly fogged, wheeled his chair round to the +bookcase behind him, and took down a Directory, with a smaller reference +work upon Hospitals and Charitable Institutions. + +"H'm," said he, coming to a halt as he turned the pages; "here it +is--'Huntingdon Orphanage for the Blind'--'mainly supported by voluntary +contributions'--address, 52 Conyers Road, Bexley, S.E. It seems to have +an influential list of patrons, mainly Dissenters, as I should guess." + +"It may keep 'em," said Mrs. Purchase, "so long as you get that poor child +out of it." + +"My dear lady, if you would be more explicit!" cried Mr. Joshua. +"To what poor child do you allude? And what is the help you ask of me?" + +"If the worst comes to the worst, you can denounce 'em." Mrs. Purchase +untied her bonnet strings, and then slowly crossed her legs--an unfeminine +habit of hers. "Tis like a story out of a book," she pursued. "This very +morning as we was moored a little above Deptford in the _Virtuous Lady_-- +that's my husband's ship--and me making the coffee for breakfast as usual, +comes off a boy with a telegram, saying, 'Meet me and Miss Myra by the +foot of the Monument. Most important.--Tom Trevarthen.' You might have +knocked me down with a feather, and even then I couldn't make head nor +tail of it." + +To this extent her experience seemed to be repeating itself in Mr. Joshua. + +"For to begin with," she went on, "how did I know that Tom Trevarthen was +in London? let alone that last time we met we parted in anger. But he'd +picked us out among the shipping as he was towed up last night in the +_One-and-All_ to anchor in the Pool. And I defy anyone to guess that he'd +got Myra here on board, who's my own niece by a second marriage, and +shipped herself as a stowaway, but was hurt by a fall down the hold, and +might have lain there and starved to death, poor child--and all for love +of her brother that his uncle had shipped off to a blind orphanage. +But there's a providence, Mr. Benny, that watches over children--and you +may lay to that." Mrs. Purchase took breath. "Well, naturally, as you +may guess, my first thought was to set it down for a hoax, though not in +the best of taste. But with Myra's name staring me in the face in the +telegram, and blood being thicker than water, on second thoughts I +told 'Siah to put on his best clothes and come to the Monument with me, +not saying more for fear of upsetting him. 'Why the Monument?' says +'Siah. 'Why not?' says I; 'it was put up against the Roman Catholics.' +So that determined him; and I wanted company, for in London you can't be +too careful. Sure enough, when we got to it, there was Tom waiting, with +this poor child holding his hand; and then the whole story came out. +'But what's to be done?' I said, for my very flesh rebelled against such +cruelty to the child, let alone that he was flogged black and blue at +home. And then Tom Trevarthen had a thought even cleverer than his +telegram. 'Peter Benny,' says he, 'has a brother here in London connected +with the press; the press can do anything, and by Peter's account his +brother can do anything with the press. If we can only find him, our +job's as good as done.' So we hailed a cab, and told the man to drive us +to the _Shipping Gazette_. But I reckon we must have started someways at +the wrong end, for the _Shipping Gazette_ passed us on to a place called +the _Times_, where they kept us waiting forty minutes, and then said they +didn't know you, but advised us to try the _Cheshire Cheese_, where I +asked for the editor, and this caused another delay. But a gentleman +there drinkin' whisky-and-water said he'd heard of you in connection with +the _Christian World_, and the _Christian World_ gave us over to a +policeman, who brought us here; and now the question is, what would you +advise?" + +"I should advise," said Mr. Joshua, pulling out his watch, "your coming +off to lunch with me." + +"You're a practical man, I see," said Mrs. Purchase, "and I say again 'tis +a pity you never married. We'll leave the whole affair in your hands." + + +In his published writings Mr. Joshua had often descanted on the power of +the Fourth Estate; and in his addresses to young aspirants he ever laid +stress on the crucial faculty of sifting out the essentials, whether in +narrative or argument, from whatever was of secondary importance, +circumstantial, or irrelevant. The confidence and accuracy with which +Mrs. Purchase challenged him to put his faith and his method into instant +practice, staggered him not a little. He felt himself hit, so to speak, +with both barrels. + +It will be allowed that he rose to the test admirably. Under an arch of +the railway bridge at the foot of Ludgate Hill there is a restaurant where +you may eat and drink and hear all the while the trains rumbling over your +head. To this he led the party; and while Mrs. Purchase talked, he sifted +out with professional skill the main points of her story, and discovered +what she required of him. To be sure, the Power of the Press remained to +be vindicated, and as yet he was far from seeing his way clear. The woman +required him to storm the doors of an orphanage and rescue without parley +the body of a child consigned to it by a legal guardian (which was +absurd); or if not instantly successful, to cow the officials with threats +of exposure (which again was absurd; since, for aught he knew, the +institution thoroughly deserved the subscriptions of the public). + +Yet while his own heart sank, the confidence of his guests, and their +belief in him, sensibly increased. He had chosen this particular +restaurant not deliberately, but with the instinct of a born journalist; +for it is the first secret of journalism to appear to be moving at high +speed even when standing absolutely still, and here in the purlieus of the +clanging station, amid the thunder of trains and the rush of hundreds of +feet to bookstalls and ticket-offices; here where the clash of knives and +forks and plates mingled with the rumble of cabs and the calls of porters +and newspaper boys, the impression of activity was irresistible. Here, as +Mrs. Purchase had declared, was a practical man. Their business promised +well with all these wheels in motion. + +"And now," said Mr. Joshua, as he paid the bill, "we will take the train +for Bexley, and see." + +In his own heart he hoped that a visit to the Orphanage would satisfy +them. He would seek the governor or matron in charge; they would be +allowed an interview with the child, and finding him in good hands, +contented and well cared for, would shed some natural tears perhaps, but +return cheerful and reassured. This was as much as Mr. Joshua dared to +hope. While piecing together Mrs. Purchase's narrative he had been +sincerely touched--good man--by some of its details; particularly when Tom +Trevarthen struck in and related how on the second night out of port he +had been kept awake by a faint persistent knocking on the bulkhead +separating the fo'c'sle from the schooner's hold; how he had drawn his +shipmates' attention to it; how he had persuaded the skipper to uncover +one of the hatches; and how he had descended with a lantern and found poor +Myra half dead with sickness and hunger. Mr. Joshua did not understand +children; but he had a good heart nevertheless. He eyed Myra from time to +time with a sympathetic curiosity, shy and almost timid, as the train +swung out over the points, and the child, nestling down in a corner by the +window, gazed out across the murky suburbs with eyes which, devouring the +distance, regarded him not at all. + +The child did not doubt. She followed with the others as he shepherded +them through the station to the train which came, as if to his call, from +among half a dozen others, all ready at hand. He was a magician, +benevolent as any in her fairy-tales, and when all was over she would +thank him, even with tears. But just now she could think only of Clem and +her journey's end. Clem!--Clem!--the train clanked out his name over and +over. Would these lines of dingy houses, factories, smoky gardens, +rubbish-heaps, broken palings, never come to an end? + +They trailed past the window in meaningless procession; empty phenomena, +and as dull as they were empty. But the glorious golden certainty lay +beyond. "Just look to the poor mite!" whispered Mrs. Purchase, nudging +her husband. Myra's ears caught the words distinctly, but Myra did not +hear. + +Bexley at last! with two or three cabs outside the station. Later on she +remembered them, and the colour of the horse in the one which Mr. Joshua +chose, and the driver's face, and Mr. Joshua leaning out of the window and +shouting directions. She remembered also the mist on the glass window of +the four-wheeler, and the foggy houses, detached and semi-detached, +looming behind their roadway walls and naked fences of privet; the +clapping sound of the horse, trotting with one loose shoe; Aunt Hannah's +clutch at her arm as they drew up in the early dusk before a gate with a +clump of evergreens on either side; and a glimpse of a tall red-brick +building as Mr. Joshua opened the door and alighted. + +He was gone, and they sat in the cab, and waited for him a tedious while. +She did not understand. Why should they wait now, with Clem so near at +hand? But she was patient, not doubting at all of the result. + +He came running back at length, and radiant. As though the issue had ever +been in doubt! The cab moved through the gateway and halted before a low +flight of steps, and everyone clambered out. The dusk had deepened, and +she blinked as she stepped into a lighted hall. A tall man met them +there; whispered, or seemed to whisper, a moment with Mr. Joshua; and +beckoned them to follow. They followed him, turning to the right down a +long corridor not so brightly lit as the hall had been. At the end he +halted for a moment and gently opened a door. + +They passed through it into what, for a moment, seemed to be total +darkness. They stood, in fact, at the head of a tall platform of many +steps, semicircular in shape, looking down upon a long hall, unlit as yet +(for the blind need no lamps); and below, on the floor of the hall, ranged +at their desks in the fading light, sat row upon row of children. +The murmur of many voices rose from that shadowy throng, as Myra, shaking +off Aunt Hannah's grasp, stepped forward to the edge of the platform with +both arms extended, her hurt forgotten. + +"MYRA!" + +The opening of the door could scarcely have been audible amid the murmur +below. She herself had stretched out her arms, uttering no sound, not yet +discerning him among the dim murmuring shadows. What telegraphy of love +reached, and on the instant, that one child in the throng and fetched him +to his feet, crying out her name? And he was blind. From the way he ran +to her, heeding no obstacles, stumbling against desks, breaking his shins +cruelly against the steps of the platform as he stretched up both hands to +her, all might see that he was blind. Yet he came, as she had known he +would come. + +"CLEM!" + +They were in each other's arms, sobbing, laughing, crooning soft words +together, but only these articulate-- + +"You knew me?" + +"Yes, you have come--I knew you would come!" + +"Now I ask you," said Aunt Hannah to the Matron, who, unobserved by the +visitors, had followed them down the corridor, "I don't know you from +Adam, ma'am, but I ask you, as a Christian woman, if you'd part them two +lambs? And, if so, how?" + +The Matron's answer went near to abashing her; for the Matron turned out +to be not only a Christian woman, as challenged, but an extremely +tender-hearted one. + +"I like the child," she answered. "I like him so much that I'd be +thankful if you could get him removed; for, to tell the truth, he's ailing +here. We try to feed him well, and we try to make him happy; but he's +losing flesh, and he's not happy. Indeed we are not tyrants, ma'am, and +if it pleases you his sister shall stay with him overnight, and I promise +to take care of her; but he came to us from his legal guardian, and +without leave we can't give him up." + +It was at this point that inspiration came to Mr. Joshua. + +"Why not a telegram?" he suggested. "As his aunt, ma'am, you might +suggest a sea voyage for the child, and leave it to me to word it +strongly." + +"If I wasn't a married woman," said Mrs. Purchase, "I could openly bless +the hour I made your acquaintance." + +Between the despatch of Mr. Joshua's telegram and the receipt of his +answer there was weary waiting for all but the two children. +They, content in the moment's bliss, secure of the future, being reunited, +neither asked nor doubted. + +Yet they missed something--the glad, astounded surprise of their elders as +Mr. Joshua, having taken the yellow envelope from Mrs. Purchase, whose +courage failed her, broke it open, and read aloud, "_Leave child in your +hands. Only do not bring him home_." + +It was a happy party that travelled back that night to Blackfriars; and +Mr. Joshua, after shaking hands with everybody many times over, and +promising to eat his Christmas dinner on board the _Virtuous Lady_, walked +homeward to his solitary lodgings elate, treading the frosty pavement with +an unaccustomed springiness of step. He had vindicated the Power of the +Press. + + + +CHAPTER XXV. + + +BUT TOM CAN WRITE. + +"A letter for you, Mrs. Trevarthen!" + +Spring had come. The flight and finding of Myra had long since ceased to +be a nine days' wonder, and she and Clem and Tom Trevarthen--received back +into favour, and in some danger of being petted by Mrs. Purchase, who had +never been known to pet a seaman--were shipmates now on board the +_Virtuous Lady_, and had passed for many weeks now beyond ken of the +little port. A new schoolmistress reigned in Hester's stead, since +Hester, with the New Year, had taken over the care of the Widows' Houses. +In his counting-house at Hall Samuel Rosewarne sat day after day +transacting his business without a clerk, speaking seldom, shunned by +all--even by his own son; a man afraid of himself. Susannah declared that +the house was like a tomb, and vowed regularly on Monday mornings to give +'warning' at the next week-end. The villagers, accustomed to the +Rosewarne tyranny for generations, had found it hard to believe in their +release. Lady Killiow was little more than a name to them, Rosewarne a +very present steward and master of their lives; and at first, when Peter +Benny engaged workmen to pull down Nicky Vro's cottage and erect a modest +office on its site, they admired his temerity, but awoke each morning to +fresh wonder that no thunderbolt from Hall had descended during the night +and razed his work to the ground. The new ferryman had vanished too, paid +off and discharged for flagrant drunkenness, and his place was taken by +old Billy Daddo the Methodist--a change so comfortable and (when you come +to think of it) a choice so happy, that the villagers, after the shock of +surprise, could hardly believe they had not suggested it. If they did not +quite forget Nicky and his sorrows--if in place of Nicky's pagan chatter +they listened to Billy's earnest, gentle discourse, and might hardly cross +to meal or market without being reminded of God--why, after all, the word +of God was good hearing, and everyone ought to take an interest in it. +Stop your ears for a moment, and you could almost believe 'twas Nicky come +back to life again. Nobody could deny the man was cheerful and civil. +He rowed a stroke, too, amazingly like Nicky's. + +As for Rosewarne, in the revulsion of their fears they began to despise +him. They Had done better to pity him. + +Across the water, in her lodging in the Widows' Houses, Hester found work +to be done which, to her surprise, kept her busier than she had ever been +in her life before--so busy that the quiet quadrangle seemed to hold no +room for news of the world without. She found that, if she were to +satisfy her conscience in the service of these old women, she could seldom +save more than an hour's leisure from the short spring days; and in that +hour maybe Sir George would call with his plans, or she would put on her +bonnet and walk down the hill for a call on the Bennys and a chat with +Nuncey. But oftener it was Nuncey who came for a gossip; Nuncey having +sold her cart and retired from business. + +Spring had come. Within the almshouse quadrangle, around the leaden pump, +the daffodils were in flower and the tulip buds swelling. A blast from +the first of those golden trumpets could hardly have startled her more +than did her first sight of it flaunting in the sun. It had stolen upon +her like a thief. + + +"A letter for you, Mrs. Trevarthen!" + +The postman, as he crossed the quadrangle to the Matron's door, glanced up +and spied Mrs. Trevarthen bending over a wash-tub in the widows' gallery. +He pulled a letter from his pocket and held it aloft gaily. + +"I'll run up the steps with it if you can't reach." + +"No need to trouble you, my dear, if you'll wait a moment." + +Mrs. Trevarthen dried her hands in her coarse apron, leaned over the +balustrade, and just contrived to reach the letter with her finger-tips. +They were bleached with soap and warm water, and they trembled a little. + +"'Tis from your son Tom, I reckon," said the postman, while she examined +the envelope. "Foreign paper and the Quebec postmark." + +"From Tom? O' course 'tis from Tom! Get along with 'ee do! What other +man would be writing to me at my time o' life?" + +The postman walked on, laughing. Mrs. Trevarthen stood for some while +irresolute, holding the envelope between finger and thumb, and glancing +from it to a closed door at the back of the gallery. A slant low sun-ray +almost reached to the threshold, and was cut short there by the shadow of +the gallery eaves. + +"Best not disturb her, I s'pose," said the old woman, with a sigh. +She laid the letter down, but very reluctantly, beside the wash-tub, and +plunged both hands among the suds again. "Quebec!" The word recalled a +silly old song of the sailors; she had heard her boy hum it again and +again-- + + "Was you ever to Quebec, + Bonnie lassie, bonnie lassie? + Was you ever to Quebec, + Rousing timber over the deck."-- + +A door opened at the end of the gallery, and Hester came through. + +"Good-morning, Mrs. Trevarthen!" + +"'Mornin', my dear." + +These two were friends now on the common ground of nursing Aunt Butson, +who had been bedridden almost from the day of her admission to the +almshouse, her gaunt frame twisted with dire rheumatics. + +Hester, arriving to take up her duties and finding Mrs. Trevarthen outworn +with nursing, had packed her off to rest and taken her place by the +invalid's bedside. In this service she had been faithful ever since; and +it was no light one, for affliction did not chasten Mrs. Butson's caustic +tongue. + +"Is she still sleeping?" Hester glanced at the door. + +"Ay, ever since you left. Her pains have wore her out, belike. +A terrible night! Why didn' you call me sooner?" + +"You have a letter, I see." + +Mrs. Trevarthen nodded, obviously embarrassed. "Keeping it for _her_, I +was," she explained. "She do dearly like to look my letters over. +She gets none of her own, you see." + +But Hester was not deceived, having observed (without appearing to detect +it) Mrs. Trevarthen's difficulty with the written instructions on the +medicine bottles. + +"But she will not wake for some time, we'll hope; and you haven't even +broken the seal! If you would like me to read it to you--it would save +your eyes; and I am very discreet--really I am." + +Mrs. Trevarthen hesitated. "My eyes be bad, sure enough," she said, +weakening. "But you mustn't blame me if you come across a word or two you +don't like." + +"I shall remember no more of it than you choose," said Hester, slightly +puzzled. + +"My Tom han't ever said a word agen' you, and the odds are he'll say +nothing now. Still, there's the chance, and you can't rightly blame him." + +"Tom?" Hester's eyes opened wide. + +"I know my own boy's writing, I should hope!" said Mrs. Trevarthen, with +pardonable pride. "And good writing it is. Sally Butson says she never +taught a boy whose hand did her more credit. But what's the matter? +You'm as pale as a sheet almost!" + +"I--I didn't know,"--stammered Hester, and checked herself. + +"You've been over-tiring yourself, and to-night you'll just go off to bed +early and leave the nursing to me. What didn' you know? That Tom was a +scholar? A handsome scholar he'd have been, but for going to sea early +when his father died. I wonder sometimes if he worries over it and the +chances he missed. But Quebec's the postmark; and that means he's right +and safe, thank the Lord! I don't fret so long as he's aboard a +well-found ship. 'Twas his signing aboard the _One-and-All_--' +Rosewarne's coffin,' they call her--that nigh broke me. He didn' let me +know till two nights afore he sailed. 'Beggars can't be choosers,' he +said; and afterwards I found out from Peter Benny that he'd covered his +poor body with tattoo marks--his body that I've a-washed hundreds o' +times, and loved to feel his legs kickin' agen' me. Beautiful skin he had +as a child; soft as satin the feel of it, and not a blemish anywhere. +'Tis hard to think of it criss-crossed with them nasty marks. But there! +thank the Lord God he's safe, this passage! Read me what he says, there's +a kind soul; but you'll have to bear a child afore you know what I've +a-been going through wi' that letter starin' me in the face." + +Hester, resting a shoulder against one of the oaken pillars of the +gallery, where the sunshine touched her face with colour, broke the seal. + +"Here is an enclosure--a post-office order for fifty shillings." + +"God bless him! 'tis Welcome; though I could have made shift at a pinch. +Peter Benny manages these things for me," said Mrs. Trevarthen, folding it +lengthwise and inserting it between the buttons of her bodice. What she +meant was that Mr. Benny as a rule attested her mark and brought her the +money from the post-office. But Hester, busy with her own thoughts, +scarcely heard. Why had Tom Trevarthen pretended to her that he could not +write? Why had he trapped her into writing a letter for him--and to this +Harriet, whoever she might be? She unfolded the letter and read, in bold, +clear penmanship-- + + Quebec, 14th February 1872. + + "My dear Mother,--This is to enclose what I can, and to tell you we + arrived yesterday after a fair passage, and dropped hook in the Basin + below Quebec; all on board well and hearty, including Miss Myra and + Master Clem. But between ourselves the old man won't last many more + trips. His head is weakening, and Mrs. Purchase, though she won't + own to it, is fairly worn with watching him. We hadn't scarcely + cleared the Channel before we ran into dirty weather, with the wind + to N.W. and rising. We looked, of course, for the old man to + shorten sail and send her along easy, he being noted for caution. + But not a bit of it. The second day out he comes forward to me, + that stood cocking an eye aloft and waiting for him to speak, and + says he, 'This is not at all what I expected, but the Lord will + provide;' and with that he pulled out a Bible from his pocket and + tapped it, looking at me very knowing, and so walked aft and shut + himself up in his cabin. Not another glimpse did we get of him for + thirty-six hours, and no message on earth could fetch him up or + persuade him to let us take a stitch off her. As for old Hewitt, + that has been mate of her these fifteen years, and forgotten all he + ever knew, except to do what he's told, not a rag would he shift on + his own responsibility. There she was, with a new foretop-sail never + stretched before, and almost all her canvas less than two years old, + playing the mischief with it all, let alone putting the ship in + danger. At last, when she was fairly smothering herself and her + topmasts bending like whips, up he pops, Bible in hand, and says he, + with a look aloft and around, like a man more hurt than angry, + 'Heavenly Father, this won't do! This here's a pretty state of + things, Heavenly Father!' When the boys had eased her down a bit--at + the risk of their lives it was--and the old man had disappeared below + again, Mrs. Purchase came crawling aft to me in the wheelhouse, wet + as a drowned rat; and there we had a talk--very confidential, though + 'twas mostly carried on by shouting. The upshot was, she couldn't + trust the old man's head. In his best days he'd have threaded the + _Virtuous Lady_ through a needle, and was capable yet; but with this + craze upon him he was just as capable of casting the ship away for + the fun of it. As for Hewitt, we found out his quality in the fogs + of the Banks, when the skipper struck work again and let the + dead-reckoning go to glory, telling us to consider the lilies. + Hewitt took it over, and in two days had worked us south of our + course by eighty odd miles. By the Lord's mercy, on the third day we + could take our bearings, and so hauled up and fetch the Gulf; and + here we are right and tight, and Mrs. Purchase gone ashore to ship a + navigating officer for the passage home. But mates' certificates + don't run cheap in these parts, as they do on Tower Hill, and the + pilots tell me she'll be lucky if she gets what she wants for love or + money. + + "Dear mother, remember me to all the folks, and give my love to Granny + Butson. Master Clem is putting on flesh wonderful, and I reckon the + pair of them are in no hurry to get home to school. + + "Talking of that, I would like to hear how the school gets along, and + Miss Marvin--" + +"Eh?" Mrs. Trevarthen interrupted. "Why, come to think of it, he's never +heard of your coming to look after us, but reckons you'm still at the +school-mistressing. And you standing there and reading out his very +words! I call that a proper joke." + + "--And that limb of ugliness, Rosewarne. But by the time this + reaches you we shall be loaded and ready for sailing; so no news can + I hear till I get home, and perhaps it is lucky. Good-bye now. + If the world went right, it is not you would be living in the Widows' + Houses, nor I that would be finding it hard to forgive folks; but as + Nicky Vro used to say, 'Must thank the Lord, I reckon, that we be so + well as we be.' No more at present from your loving son," + "Tom." + +"I don't understand the tail-end o' that," said Mrs. Trevarthen. "Would +you mind reading it over again, my dear?--Well, well, you needn't to flush +up so, that he finds it hard to forgive folks. Meanin' you, d'ee think? +He don't speak unkindly of any but Rosewarne; and I don't mind that I've +heard news of that varmint for a month past. Have you?" + +Hester did not answer--scarcely even heard. The hand in which she held +the letter fell limp at her side as she stood gazing across the quadrangle +facing the sun, but with a soft, new-born light in her eyes, that did not +owe its kindling there. Why had he played this trick on her? She could +not explain, and yet she understood. For her he had meant that letter-- +yes, she was sure of it! To her, as though for another, he had spoken +those words--she remembered every one of them. He had not dared to speak +directly. And he had made her write them down. Foolish boy that he was, +he had been cunning. Did she forgive him? She could not help forgiving; +but it was foolish--foolish! + +She put on her bonnet that evening and walked down to see Nuncey and have +a talk with her; not to confide her secret, but simply because her elated +spirit craved for a talk. + +Greatly to her disappointment, Nuncey was out; nor could Mrs. Benny tell +where the girl had gone, unless (hazarding a guess) she had crossed the +ferry to her father's fine new office, to discuss fittings and furniture. +Nuncey had dropped into the habit, since the days began to lengthen, of +crossing the ferry after tea-time. + +Hester decided to walk as far as the Passage Slip, on the chance of +meeting her. Somewhat to her surprise, as she passed Broad Quay she +almost ran into Master Calvin Rosewarne, idling there with his hands in +his pockets, and apparently at a loose end. + +"Calvin! Why, whatever are you doing here, on this side of the water?" + +The boy--he had not the manners to take off his cap--eyed her for a moment +with an air half suspicious and half defiant. "That's telling," he +answered darkly, and added, after a pause, "Were you looking for anyone?" + +"I was hoping to meet Nuncey Benny. She has gone across to her father's +new office--or so Mrs. Benny thinks." + +The boy grinned. "She won't be coming this way just yet, and she's not at +the new office. But I'll tell you where to find her, if you'll let me +come along with you." + +On their way to the ferry he looked up once or twice askance at her, as if +half-minded to speak; but it was not until old Daddo had landed them on +the farther shore that he seemed to find his tongue. + +"Look here," he said abruptly, halting in the roadway, and regarding her +from under lowering brows; "the last time you took me in lessons you told +me to think less of myself and more of other people. Didn't you, now?" + +"Well?" said Hester, preoccupied, dimly remembering that talk. + +"Well, you seemed to forget your own teaching pretty easily when you +walked out of Hall and left me there on the stream. Nice company you left +me to, didn't you?" + +"Your father,"--began Hester lamely. + +"We won't talk of Dad. He's altered--I don't know how. I can't get on +with him, though he's the only person hereabouts that don't hate me; +I'll give him _that_ credit. But I ask you, wasn't it pretty rough on a +chap to haul him over the coals for selfishness, and then march out and +leave him without another thought? And that's what you did." + +"I am sorry." Hester's conscience accused her, and she was contrite. +The child must have found life desperately dull. + +"I forgive you," said Master Calvin, magnanimously, and resumed his walk. +"I forgive you on condition you'll do a small job for me. When Myra turns +up again--and sooner or later she'll turn up--I want you to give her a +message." + +"Very well; but why not give it yourself?" + +"She don't speak to me, you know," he answered, stooping to pick up a +stone and bowl it down the hill. It scattered a trio of ducks, gathered a +few yards below and cluttering with their bills in the village stream, and +he laughed as they waddled off in panic. "That's how I'm left to amuse +myself," he said after a moment apologetically, but again half defiantly. +"You've to tell Myra," he went on, picking up another stone, eyeing for an +aim, and dropping it, "that I like her pluck, but she needn't have been in +such a hurry to teach the head of the family. Will you remember that?" + +"I will, although I don't know what you mean by it." + +"Never you mind, but take her that message; Myra will understand." + +He stepped ahead a few paces, as if unwilling to be questioned further. +They passed the gate of Hall. Beyond it, at the foot of the Jacob's +Ladder leading up to Parc-an-Hal, he whispered to her to halt, climbed +with great caution, and disappeared behind the hedge of the great meadow; +but by and by he came stealing back and beckoned to her. + +"It's all right," he whispered; "only step softly." + +Keeping close alongside the lower hedge, he led the way towards the great +rick at the far corner of the field. + +As they drew close to it he caught her arm and pulled her aside, pointing +to her shadow, which the level sun had all but thrown beyond the rick. + +"But what is the meaning of it?" + +The question was on her lips when her ear caught the note of a voice-- +Nuncey's voice--and these words, low, and yet distinct-- + +"At the call 'Attention!' the whole body and head must be held erect, the +chin slightly dropped, chest well open, shoulders square to the front, +eyes looking straight forward. The arms must hang easily, with fingers +and thumbs straight, close to one another and touching the thighs; the +feet turned out at right angles or nearly. Now, please--'Tention!"--(a +pause)--"You break my heart, you do! Eyes, I said, looking _straight +forward_; and the weight of the body ought to rest on the front part of +the foot--not tilted back on your heels and looking like a china cat in a +thunderstorm. Now try again, that's a dear!" + +Hester gazed around wildly at Calvin, who was twisting himself in silent +contortions of mirth. + +"Take a peep!" he gasped. "She's courting Archelaus Libby, and teaching +him to look like a man." + +"You odious child!" Hester, ashamed of her life to have been trapped into +eavesdropping, and yet doubting her ears, strode past the edge of the rick +and into full view. + +Nuncey drew back with a cry. + +"Hester Marvin!" + +Hester's eyes travelled past her and rested on Archelaus. He, rigid at +attention, caught and held there spellbound, merely rolled a pair of +agonized eyes. + +"Nuncey! Archelaus! What on earth are you two doing?" + +"Learnin' him to be a Volunteer, be sure!" answered Nuncey, her face the +colour of a peony. After an instant she dropped her eyes, her cheeks +confessing the truth. + +"But--but why?" Hester stared from one to the other. + +"If he'd only be like other men!" protested Nuncey. + +Hester ran to her with a happy laugh. "But you wouldn't wish him like +other men!" + +"I do, and I don't." Nuncey eluded her embrace, having caught the sound +of ribald laughter on the other side of the rick. Darting around, she was +in time to catch Master Calvin two cuffs, right and left, upon the ears. +He broke for the gate and she pursued, but presently returned breathless. + +"'Tis wonderful to me," she said, eyeing Archelaus critically and sternly, +"how ever I come to listen to him. But he softened me by talking about +_you_. He's a deal more clever than he seems, and I believe at this +moment he likes you best." + +"I don't!" said Archelaus firmly; "begging your pardon, Miss Marvin." + +"I am sure you don't," laughed Hester. + +"Well, anyway, I'll have to tell father now," said Nuncey; "for that imp +of a boy will be putting it all round the parish." + +But here Archelaus asserted himself. "That's my business," he said +quietly. "It isn't any man's 'yes' or 'no' I'm afraid of, Miss Marvin, +having stood up to _her_." + + + +CHAPTER XXVI. + + +MESSENGERS. + +In Cornwall, they say, the cuckoo brings a gale of wind with him; and of +all gales in the year this is the one most dreaded by gardeners and +cidermen, for it catches the fruit trees in the height of their blossoming +season, and in its short rage wrecks a whole year's promise. + +Such a gale overtook the _Virtuous Lady_, homeward bound, in mid-Atlantic. +For two days and a night she ran before it; but this of course is a +seaman's phrase, and actually, fast as the wind hurled her forward, she +lagged back against it until she wallowed in its wake, and her crew gave +thanks and crept below to their bunks, too dog-weary to put off their +sodden clothes. + +The gale passed on and struck our south-western coast, devastating the +orchards of Cornwall and Devon and carpeting them with unborn fruit-- +_dulcis vitae ex-sortes_. Amid this unthrifty waste and hard by, off Berry +Head, the schooner _One-and-All_ foundered and went down, not prematurely. + +Foreseeing the end, her master had given orders to lower the whale-boat. +The schooner might be apple-rotten, as her crew declared, but she carried +a whale-boat which had inspired confidence for years and induced many a +hesitating hand to sign articles; a seaworthy boat, to begin with, and by +her owner's and master's care made as nearly unsinkable as might be, +cork-fendered, fitted bow and stern with air tanks, well found in all her +gear. Woe betide the seaman who abstracted an inch of rope from her to +patch up the schooner's crazy rigging, or who left a life-belt lying loose +around the deck or a rowlock unrestored to its due place after the weekly +scrub-down! + +The crew, then, launched the boat--half filling her in the process--and, +tumbling in, pulled for the lee of the high land between Berry Head and +Brixham. The master took the helm. He was steering without one backward +look at the abandoned ship, when the oarsmen ceased pulling, all together, +with a cry of dismay. + +On the schooner's deck stood a child, waving his arms despairingly. + +How he came there they could not tell, nor who he was. The master, not +understanding their outcry, cursed and shouted to them to pull on. +But already the starboard oars were holding water and the bowman bringing +her around head-to-sea. + +"Good Lord deliver us!" + +The master carried a pair of binoculars, slung in a leathern case about +his shoulders inside his oilskin coat. + +They had been given to him by public subscription many years before, with +a purse of gold, as a reward for saving life at sea. Since then he had +forgotten in whisky-drinking and money-getting all the generous courage of +his youth. His business for many years had been to play with human life +for his own and his owner's profit, with no care but to keep on the right +side of the law. The noble impulse which had earned him this testimonial +was dead within him; to recover it he must have been born again. +He might even, by keeping his pumps going and facing out the peril for +another couple of hours, have run the _One-and-All_ into Torbay and saved +her; but he had not wanted to save her. Nevertheless, when he had run +down to collect his few treasures from the cabin, these binoculars were +his first and chiefest thought, for they attached him to something in his +base career which had been noble. So careful was he, so fearful of facing +eternity and judgment--if drown he must--without them, that, although the +time was short and the danger instant, and the man by this time a coward, +he had stripped off oilskin coat and pea-jacket to indue them again and +button them over his treasure. + +Yet either his hands were numb or the sea-water had penetrated these wraps +and damped the tag of the leathern case, making it difficult to open. +When at length he tugged the binoculars free and sighted them, it was to +catch one glimpse, and the last, of the child waving from the bulwarks. + +"Good Lord deliver us!" + +A high-crested wave blotted out the schooner's hull. She seemed to sink +behind it, almost to midway of her main shrouds. She would lift again +into sight as that terrible wave went by-- + +But she did not. The wave went by, but no portion of her hull appeared. +With a slow lurch forward she was gone, and the seas ran over her as +though she and her iniquity had never been. + +In that one glimpse through his binoculars the master, and he alone of the +crew, had recognised the child--Calvin Rosewarne, his owner's son. + + +To their credit, the men pulled back for the spot where the _One-and-All_ +had gone down. Not till an hour's battling had taught them the +hopelessness of a search hopeless from the first did they turn the boat +and head again for Brixham. + + +The news, telegraphed from Brixham, began to spread through Troy soon +after midday. Since the law allowed it, over-insurance was accepted by +public opinion in the port almost as a matter of ordinary business; +almost, but not quite. In his heart every citizen knew it to be damnable, +and voices had been raised in public calling it damnable. Men and women +who would have risked nothing to amend the law so far felt the public +conscience agreeing with their own that they talked freely of Rosewarne's +punishment as a judgment of God. Folks in the street canvassed the news, +insensibly sinking their voices as they stared across the water at the elm +trees of Hall. Behind those elms lay a house, and within that house would +be sitting a man overwhelmed by God's vengeance. + +In the late afternoon a messenger knocked at Hester's door with a letter. +It was brought to her where she sat, with Mrs. Trevarthen, by Aunt +Butson's bedside, and it said-- + + "I wish to speak with you this evening, if you are willing." + "--S. Rosewarne." + +She rose at once, silently, with a glance at her two companions. They had +not spoken since close upon an hour. When first the news came the old +woman on the bed had raised herself upon her elbow, struggled a moment for +utterance, and burst into a paean of triumphant hatred, horrible to hear. +Mrs. Trevarthen sat like one stunned. "Hush 'ee, Sarah! Hush 'ee, that's +a good soul!" she murmured once and again in feeble protest. At length +Hester, unable to endure it longer, had risen, taken the invalid by one +shoulder and forced her gently back upon the pillow. + +"Tell me to go," she said, "and I will leave you and not return. But to +more of this I will not listen. I believed you an ill-used woman; but you +are far less wronged than wicked if you can rejoice in the death of a +child." + +Since then the invalid had lain quiet, staring up at the ceiling. She did +not know--nor did Mrs. Trevarthen know--whose letter Hester held in her +hand. But now, as Hester moved towards the door, a weak voice from the +bed entreated her-- + +"You won't leave me! I didn't mean that about the child--I didn't, +really!" + +"She didn't mean it," echoed Mrs. Trevarthen. + +"I know--I know," said Hester, and stretched out both arms in sudden +weariness, almost despair. "But oh! why in this world of burdens can we +not cast away hate, the worst and wilfullest?" + +It seemed to her that in her own mind during these few weeks a light had +been steadily growing, illuminating many things she had been wont to +puzzle over or habitually to pass by as teasing and obscure. She saw the +whole world constructed on one purpose, that all living creatures should +love and help one another to be happy. Even such a man as Rosewarne found +a place in it, as one to be pitied because he erred against this light. +Yes, and even the death of this child had a place in the scheme, since, +calling for pity, it called for one of the divinest exercises of love. +She marvelled, as she crossed in the ferry-boat, why the passengers, one +and all, discussed it as a direct visitation upon Rosewarne, as though +Rosewarne had offended against some agreement in which they and God +Almighty stood together, and they had left the fellow in God's hands with +a confidence which yet allowed them room to admire the dramatic neatness +of His methods. She longed to tell them that they were all mistaken, and +her eyes sought old Daddo's, who alone took no part in this talk. +But old Daddo pulled his stroke without seeming to listen, his brow +puckered a little, his eyes bent on the boat's wake abstractedly as though +he communed with an inward vision. + +At the front door of Hall Susannah met her, white and tearful. + +"I heard that he'd sent for you." Susannah sank her voice almost to a +whisper. "He's in the counting-house. You be'n't afeard?" + +"Why should I be afraid?" + +"I don't know. He's that strange. For months now he've a-been strange; +but for two days he've a-sat there, wi'out food or drink, and the door +locked most of the time. Not for worlds would I step into that room +alone." + +"For two days?" + +"Ever since he opened the poor child's letter; for a letter there was, +though the Lord knows what was in it. You're sure you be'n't afeard?" + +Hester stepped past her and through the great parlour, and tapped gently +on the counting-house door. Her knock was answered by the sound of a key +turning in the lock, and Rosewarne opened to her. + +At the moment she could not see his face, for a lamp on the writing-table +behind silhouetted him in black shadow. Her eyes wandered over the room's +disarray, and all her senses quailed together in its exhausted atmosphere. + +He closed the door, but did not lock it again, motioned her to a chair, +and dropped heavily into his accustomed seat by the writing-table, +where for a while his fingers played nervously with the scattered papers. +Now by the lamplight she noted the extreme greyness of his face and the +hard brilliance of his eyes, usually so dull and fish-like. + +"I am much obliged to you for coming," he began in a level, almost +business-like tone, but without looking up. "There are some questions I +want to ask. You have heard the news, of course?" + +"Everyone has heard. I am sorry--so sorry! It is terrible." + +"Thank you," said he, with a slight inclination of the head, as though +acknowledging some remark of small and ordinary politeness. "Perhaps you +would like to see this?" He picked up a crumpled sheet of notepaper, +smoothed out the creases, and handed it to her. Taking it, she read this, +written in a childish, ill-formed hand-- + + "Dear Father,--When this reaches you I shall be at sea. I hope you + won't mind very much, as it runs in the family, and some of those + that done it have turned out best. I don't get any good staying at + home. I love you and you love me, but nobody else does, and nobody + understands. I thought Miss Marvin understood, but she went away and + forgot. Never mind, it will be all right when I am a man. + I will come back, for you mustn't think I don't love you." + "--Your affect. son," + "C. Rosewarne." + +As Hester looked up she found Mr. Samuel's eyes fixed on her for the first +time, and fixed on her curiously. + +"You don't approve, perhaps, of cousins marrying?" he asked slowly. + +Was the man mad, as Susannah had hinted? + +"I--I don't understand you, Mr. Rosewarne." + +"Your mother had an only sister--an elder sister--who went out to +Dominica, and there married a common soldier. Did you know this?" + +"I knew that my mother had a sister, and that there had been some +disgrace. My father never spoke of it, and my mother died when I was very +young; but in some way--as children do--I came to know." + +"I thought you might know more, but it does not matter now. My father was +that common soldier, and the disgrace did not lie in her marrying him. +Before the marriage--I have a copy here of the entry in the register--a +child was born. Yes, stare at me well, Cousin Hester, stare at me, your +cousin, though born in bastardy!" + +His eyes seemed to force her backward, and she leaned back, clasping the +arms of her chair. + +"I learnt this a short while before my father died. I had only his word +for it--he gave me no particulars; but I have hunted them up, and he told +me the truth. Knowing them, I concealed them for the sake of the child +that was drowned to-day; otherwise, the estate being entailed, his +inheritance would have passed to Clem, and he and I were interlopers. +Are you one of those who believe that God has punished me by drowning my +son? You have better grounds than the rest for believing it." + +"No," said Hester, after a long pause, remembering what thoughts had been +in her mind as she crossed the ferry. + +"Why not?" + +"The child had done no evil. God is just, or God does not exist. He must +have had some other purpose than to punish you." + +"You are right. He may have used that purpose to afflict me yet the +more--though I don't believe it; but my true punishment--my worse +punishment--began long before. Cousin, cousin, you see clearly! +How often might you have helped me during these months I have been in +hell! Can you think how a man feels who is afraid of himself? +No, you cannot; but I say to you there is no worse hell, and through that +hell I have been walking since the day I went near to killing Clem. +You saved me that once, and then you turned and left me. I wanted you-- +no, not to marry me! When a man fears himself he thinks no more of +affection. I wanted you, I craved for you, to save me--to save me again +and again, and as often as the madness mastered me. A word from you would +have made me docile as a child. I should have done you no hurt. +On your walks and about your lodging at night I have dogged you for that +word, afraid to show myself, afraid to knock and demand it. By this time +I had discovered you were my cousin. 'Blood is thicker than water'--over +and over I told myself this. 'Sooner or later,' I said, 'the voice in our +blood will whisper to her, and she will turn and help my need.' But you +never turned, and why? Because you were in love, and if fear is selfish, +love is selfish too!" + +He paused for breath, eyeing her with a gloomy, bitter smile. +"Oh, there's no harm in my knowing your secret," he went on. "I'm past +hating Tom Trevarthen, and past all jealousy. All I ever asked was that +he should spare you to help me--a cup of cold water for a tongue in hell; +I didn't want your love. But that's where the selfishness of love comes +in. It can't spare even what it doesn't need for itself. It wants the +whole world to be happy; but when the unhappy cry to it, it doesn't hear." + +Hester stood up, her eyes brimming. "You are right," she said, "I did not +hear. I never guessed at all. Tell me now that I can help." + +"It is too late," he answered. "I no longer want your help." + +"Surely to-day, if ever, you need your neighbours' pity and their +prayers?" + +He laughed aloud. "That shows how little you understand! You and my +precious neighbours think of me as brooding here, mourning for my lost +boy. I tell you I am glad--yes, glad! _This_ is no part of God's +punishment! It was the future I feared: He has taken it from me. +I can suffer at ease now, knowing the end. See now, I have confessed to +you the wrong I did that blind child, and the confession has eased me. +I could not have confessed it yesterday--the burden of living grows +lighter, you perceive. I don't repent; it doesn't seem to me that I have +any use for repentance. If what I have done deserves punishment in +another world, I must suffer it; but I know it cannot be half what I have +suffered of late. No, cousin, I need you no longer. There is no sting to +rankle, now that hope--hope for my boy--has gone. I can rest quiet now, +with my own damnation." + +She put out a hand, protesting, but he turned from her--they were standing +face to face--and opening the door, stood aside to let her pass. + +"I thank you for coming," he said gravely. "What I have told you--about +the inheritance, I mean--will be no secret after the next few days." + +She halted and looked at him inquiringly. "It will be a secret safe with +me," she said. Her eyes still searched his. + +For the second time he laughed. "The children will be home in a few days; +I wait here till then. That is all I meant." + + +In the dusk by the ferry-slip old Daddo stood ready to push off. +Hester was the only passenger, for it was Saturday, and on Saturdays, at +this hour, all the traffic flowed away from the town, returning from +market to the country. + +Her eyes were red, and it may be that old Daddo noted this, for midway +across, and without any warning, he rested on his oars, scanning her +earnestly. + +"You have been calling on Rosewarne, miss?--making so bold." + +She nodded. + +"I see'd you looking t'ards me just now as we crossed. I see'd you glance +up as _they_, in their foolishness, was reckoning they knew the mind o' +God. Tell me, miss, how he bears it?" + +"He bears it; but without hope, for his trouble goes deeper." + + + +CHAPTER XXVII. + + +HOME. + +Mr. Benny, arriving next morning at the ferry to cross over to his office, +opened his eyes very wide indeed to see the boat waiting by the slip and +his late master, Samuel Rosewarne, standing solitary within it, holding on +to a shore-ring by the boat-hook. + +"But whatever has become of Daddo?" Mr. Benny's gaze, travelling round, +rested for one moment of wild suspicion on the door of the 'Sailor's +Return,' hard by. + +"With your leave he has given up his place to me for a while," said +Rosewarne slowly. "I have come to ask you that favour, Mr. Benny." + +The little man stepped on board, wondering, nor till half-way across could +he find speech. + +"It hurts me to see you doing this, sir; it does indeed. If old Nicky Vro +could look down and see you so demeaning yourself, you can't think but +he'd say 'twas too much." + +"I did Nicky Vro an injury once, and a mortal one. But I never gave him +licence to know, on earth or in heaven, what my conscience requires. +It requires this, Mr. Benny; and unless you forbid it, we'll say no more." + +The common opinion on both shores was that grief had turned Rosewarne's +brain. He had prepared himself against laughter; but no one laughed: and +though, as the news spread, curiosity brought many to the shores to see, +the groups dispersed as the boat approached. Public penance is a rare +thing in these days, and all found it easier to believe that the man was +mad. Some read the Lord's retributive hand again in the form his madness +took. + +In silence he took the passengers' coppers or handed them their change. +Few men had ever opened talk with Rosewarne, and none were bold enough to +attempt it in the three days during which he plied the ferry. + +"You left him lonely to his sinning; leave him alone now," said old Daddo, +tilling his cottage-garden up the hill, to the neighbours who leaned +across his fence questioning him about his share in the strange business. +His advice was idle; they could not help themselves. Something in +Rosewarne's face forbade speech. + +On the evening of the third day he saw the signal for which he waited--the +smoke of a tug rising above the low roofs on the town quay, and above the +smoke the top-gallants and royals of a tall vessel pencilled against the +sunset's glow. With his eyes upon the vision he rowed to shore and +silently as ever took the fees of his passengers and gave them their +change; then, having made fast the boat, he walked up to Mr. Benny's +office. + +"You have done me one service," he said. "I ask you to do me a second. +The _Virtuous Lady_ has come into port; in five minutes or less she will +drop anchor. Take boat and pull to her. Tell Mrs. Purchase that I have +gone up the hill to Hall, and will be waiting there; and if you can +persuade her, bring her ashore in your boat." + +Mr. Benny reached up for his hat. + +"Say that I am waiting to speak with her alone. On no account must she +bring the children." + + +Up in the Widows' Houses, high above the murmur of the little port, no ear +caught the splash as the _Virtuous Lady's_ anchor found and held her to +home again. In Aunt Butson's room Hester sat and read aloud to her +patient. The book was the Book of Proverbs, from which Aunt Butson +professed that she, for her part, derived more comfort than from all the +four Gospels put together. For an hour Hester read on steadily, and then, +warned by the sound of regular breathing, glanced at the bed and shut the +Bible. + +Rising, she paused for a moment, watching the sleeper, opened and closed +the door behind her gently, and bent her steps towards Mrs. Trevarthen's +room, at the far end of the gallery; but on the way her eyes fell on a +group of daffodils in bloom below, in the quadrangle. Two flights of +stairs led up from the quadrangle, one at either end of the gallery; and +stepping back to the head of that one which mounted not far from Aunt +Butson's door, she descended and plucked a handful of the flowers. +Returning to the gallery by the other stairway, she was more than a little +surprised to see Mrs. Trevarthen's door, at the head of it, almost wide +open. For Mrs. Trevarthen, worn-out and weary, had left her only an hour +ago under a solemn promise to go straight to bed, and Hester had been +minded to arrange these flowers for her while she slept. + +"Mrs. Trevarthen!" she called indignantly from the stair-head. +"Mrs. Trevarthen! What did you promise me?" + +A tall figure, dark against the farther window, rose from its stooping +posture over the bed where Mrs. Trevarthen lay, turned, and confronted her +in the doorway with a glad and wondering stare. + +"Miss Marvin!" + +"Tom! oh, Tom!" cried his mother's voice within. "To think I haven't told +you! But you give me no time!" + +A minute later, as Hester walked away along the gallery, she heard his +step following. + +"But why wouldn't you come in?" he demanded, and went on before she could +answer, "To think of your being Matron here! But of course mother had no +time to reach me with a letter." + +"She gave me yours to read," said Hester mischievously; whereat Tom +flushed and looked away and laughed. "Tell me," she went on. "What did +she answer?" + +"She? Who?" + +"Why, Harriet--wasn't that her name?" + +"There's no such person." + +"What? Do you mean to say it was all a trick, and there's no Harriet +Sands in existence?" + +"You're wrong now. There _is_ a Harriet Sands, and she belongs to Runcorn +too; only she's a ship." + +"A ship! And the letter you made me write--it almost made me cry, too--was +_that_ meant only for a ship?" + +"No, it was not--but you're laughing at me." He turned almost savagely, +and catching sight of something in her eyes, stood still. "If you only +knew---_do_ you know?" + +"I wish I did--I think I do." + +He caught at her hands and clasped them over the daffodils. + + +"If ever I'm a widow," said a panting voice a few paces away, "if ever I'm +a widow (which the Lord forbid!), I'll end my days on a ground floor 'pon +the flat. Companion-ladders is bad enough when you've a man to look +after; but when you've put 'en away and can take your meals easy, to chase +a bereaved woman up a hill like the side of a house, an' _then_ up a flight +of stairs, for five shillings a week and all found--O-oh!" + +Mrs. Purchase halted at the stair-head; and it is a question which of +three faces was redder. + +"O-oh!" repeated Mrs. Purchase. "Here come I with news enough to upset a +town, and simmin' to me here's a pair that won't value it more'n a rush. +Well-a-well! Am I to go away, my dears, or wish 'ee fortune? You're a +sly fellow too, Tom Trevarthen, to go and get hold of a schoolmistress, +when 'tis only a little schoolin' you want to get a certificate and be +master of a ship. That's the honest truth, my dear,"--she turned to +Hester. "'Twas he that worked the _Virtuous Lady_ home, and if you can +teach 'en navigation to pass the board, he shall have her and you too. +Do I mean it? Iss, fay, I mean it. I'm hauled ashore. 'Tis 'Lord, now +lettest Thou Thy servant,' with Hannah Purchase." + +Late that evening Clem and Myra walked hand in hand, hushed, through the +unkempt garden--their garden now, though to their childish intelligence no +more theirs than it had always been. They might lift their voices now and +run shouting with no one to rebuke them. They understood this, yet +somehow they did not put it to the proof. Home was home, and the old +constraint a part of it. + +Late that same evening Samuel Rosewarne passed down the streets of +Plymouth and unlatched the door of a dingy house which, empty of human +love, of childhood, of friendship, was yet his home and the tolerable +refuge of his soul. He no longer feared himself. He could face the +future. He could live out his life. + + +THE END. + + + * * * * * * + + +Transcriber's note: + +The following corrections were made to the text. + +Chapter IV + 'a petty tradesman's daughter of Warwick' + to 'a pretty tradesman's daughter of Warwick' + +Chapter VI + 'You'm wanted at home, and to once!" + to 'You'm wanted to home, and at once!" + (The Cornish tend to say--He's to Truro rather than--He's at Truro) + +Chapter XV + 'C let us give thanks to the lord' + to 'Come let us give thanks to the lord' + +Chapter XXIII + 'They why are you left on board?' + to 'Then why are you left on board' + +Chapter XXIV + 'I hall be surprised' + to 'I shall be surprised' + +Chapter XXV + 'but simply because her elate spirit craved for a talk' + to 'but simply because her elated spirit craved for a talk' + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SHINING FERRY*** + + +******* This file should be named 23647.txt or 23647.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/3/6/4/23647 + + + +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. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +http://www.gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +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 + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at http://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/pglaf. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at http://www.gutenberg.org/about/contact + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit http://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/donate + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: +http://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + diff --git a/23647.zip b/23647.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..654557f --- /dev/null +++ b/23647.zip diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..faad6f8 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #23647 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23647) |