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diff --git a/40594-0.txt b/40594-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..62921ae --- /dev/null +++ b/40594-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,15121 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 40594 *** + + INTO THE HIGHWAYS & HEDGES + + BY F. F. MONTRÉSOR + + + _SEVENTH EDITION_ + + London 1896 + + HUTCHINSON & CO. + 34 PATERNOSTER ROW + + "Let a man contend to the uttermost for his life's set prize, be + it what it will." + + + Dedicated + TO + MY MOTHER + + + + +PREFACE. + + +This is not meant to be a controversial novel. I by no means agree with +all Barnabas Thorpe's opinions. Nevertheless I believe that the men who +fight for their ideals have been, and always will be, the saving element +in a world which happily has never yet been left without them. + +Before and since the days when Socrates found that it was "impossible to +live a quiet life, for that would be to disobey the deity," there have +always been some souls who have counted it worth while to lose all else, +if haply in the losing they might get nearer to the light from which +they came. Their failures, their apparently hopeless mistakes, are often +evident enough, yet the mistakes die, and the spirit which animates them +lives. It would be dark, indeed, if the torches of those eager runners +were to go out. + +F. F. M. + + + + +INTO THE HIGHWAYS AND HEDGES. + + + + +FIRST PART. + + + + +CHAPTER I. + + +The woman whose story is written here, was in the fulness of her youth +some fifty years ago. + +She is dead now, and so are the two men who loved her best, who would +each, according to his lights, have given his life for her happiness. + +Her name is inscribed in the family Bible, that holds on its flyleaf the +generation of Deanes, but there is a thick stroke through it, which +almost obliterates the delicate characters, and there is no record +either of her marriage or of her death. + +She made a great mistake; she was one of the people who blunder on a +large scale, who put all their eggs into one basket, and who are apt to +break their hearts as well as their goods; but, in so far as her life +did not end in pure tragedy, it seemed to me worth the telling. + +One lifts one's cap to those who never go wrong, but Heaven knows it is +easy enough to stumble, and there are two sides to every ditch; let us, +at least, cry "Hurrah!" when any one scrambles out on the right bank. + +Margaret was the third daughter of Charles Deane--(so much we find +chronicled); she was five years younger than her sister Katherine, and +seven years younger than Laura, and she must have been barely six when +her father, then newly widowed, brought his children to London, and left +them in charge of his sister. + +The three little girls were heiresses, and plentifully provided for. The +Deanes and Russelthorpes have always been rich; money seems to have +clung to their fingers, though there was never a miser among them. The +families had intermarried for two generations, before Mr. Deane's sister +accepted Mr. Joseph Russelthorpe, and took possession of the house in +Bryanston Square. The marriage was not blessed with children, and "Aunt +Russelthorpe" had consequently plenty of spare energy to expend on the +training of her nieces. She was still handsome, though past her youth, +when little Margaret first made her acquaintance. A tall striking woman, +with very erect carriage, a decided manner, and a hard voice. She was a +brilliant talker, and her parties were the rage at one time, though she +was a shade too fond of monopolising attention to be a perfect hostess. + +She wore her hair in little ringlets on her high narrow forehead, +according to, what was then, the fashion. Her hair and eyelashes were +fair, her eyes wonderfully bright, though yellowish in colour, her +complexion was exquisite, and her features were regular, save that her +upper lip was rather too long. + +Her small nieces thought her "ugly" when they first saw her, but +children never took to Mrs. Russelthorpe, and motherliness was not among +her charms. + +Margaret clung fast to her father, and hid her face in his coat tails +when he tried to introduce her to her new guardian; Laura and Kate held +each other's hands tightly, and stared hard at their aunt, trying not to +blink in the sudden blaze of light. + +The grand drawing-room, with its chandeliers and tall mirrors and +gilded chairs, rather overawed them. "Children were out of place there." + +"Miss Cripps is waiting for the girls in the schoolroom; James can show +them the way," said Mrs. Russelthorpe; and then her bright eyes fell on +Margaret. + +"You spoil your youngest, I am afraid," she remarked. + +Margaret clung closer to her father. + +"Oh, don't let me be taken away from you," she sobbed; and Mr. Deane +lifted her on to his shoulder, where she stopped crying; and looked +defiance at her aunt, with one chubby hand resting on his wavy bright +brown hair. + +"You must forgive our bad manners to-night. Meg is very fond of her old +father, aren't you, lady-love?" he said; and he carried her down to the +dining-room (though with an apologetic glance at his sister), and she +sat on his knee while he ate his dinner, and sipped sherry from his +glass, and listened wide-eyed to his talk. + +Mrs. Russelthorpe shook her head, and bided her time. Charles was going +away to-morrow, and Meg should be taught how to behave herself before he +came back. + +In the meantime the little lady had a short-lived triumph. + +Her baby face was like her handsome father's, and the two made a pretty +pair. She put up her soft red lips to kiss him once, and her aunt turned +away sharply. It was ridiculous to be angry with a child, and she was +irritable with herself as well as with Meg. + +"Uncle Russelthorpe" sat at the bottom of the table, watching, rather +than joining in, the conversation. He had a way of slipping lower and +lower in his chair, a trick which rather fascinated Meg, who wondered +whether he would slide below the tablecloth if they sat long enough. + +He was an insignificant little man, dull-complexioned, with wiry +iron-grey whiskers that seemed to twitch with nervousness, and sharp +ferret-like eyes that surprised you at times by a sudden humorous +twinkle. He had given up contending with his wife long ago, and consoled +himself for his abdication by sly internal comments on her proceedings. +His remarks stung her occasionally, and she never quite ruled him, +though he was not man enough to rule her. + +Mrs. Russelthorpe and her brother waxed hot over politics; and Meg, +understanding about one remark in ten, was yet unwittingly charmed by +the flow of her father's sentences and the tone of his musical voice. + +The taste of sherry always brought back a remembrance of him, with his +chin swathed in the stiff stock of those days, his face aglow with +enthusiasm, his blue eyes kindling as he spoke. + +He was a very gallant gentleman, to whom all women were good and pure +and beautiful; it was no wonder they liked him. + +Mr. Deane was the one Radical in a Tory family at a time when party +spirit ran high, and his sister was genuinely shocked at the tendencies +he displayed, and combated them with excellent force and some wit. Mrs. +Russelthorpe enjoyed an argument, but her brother was too keenly +interested to fence well. + +"My dear Augusta, it's easy to sit at an over-heaped table, and preach +about the insubordination of the starving," he cried. "We've done that +long enough. No wonder Lazarus outside becomes impatient!" + +"Is Lazarus just outside?" asked Meg, raising her head, which was +nestled against his breast. + +"Ay, God knows he is!" said her father. "And this bitter winter is +nipping his toes and freezing his marrow, Meg, so that he threatens to +come in, and take his share of the good things. You see, sis," he added +apologetically, "there are two sides to every question." + +Uncle Russelthorpe emitted a sudden unmusical chuckle. + +"Very true, Charles," he said. "But _you_ are not the man to see both." + +Here Meg began to cry. "I'm frightened of Lazarus," she gasped. "I don't +want him to come in!" and her father laughed at and comforted her, and +finally bore her up to bed, being rather flattered at her devotion to +him, as well as touched at parting with his motherless children, whose +hearts he had quite won during the long coach journey to London. + +He saw very little of his girls as a rule, he had so many other things +to think of (he was a great patron of art and letters, a dabbler in +politics, and the most popular man in the county), but when he was with +them he was charming, and petted them far more than was the fashion in +those days. + +Meg's predilection for him became quite inconvenient when he tried to +leave her; and she clung to him more desperately than ever, partly from +terror at her new surroundings and at being left to sleep alone in a +strange room. + +"I'll show you something beautiful if you'll only stop crying," he said, +as he put her down on the nursery-maid's lap and knelt in front of them, +Meg still clutching at the lace frills of his cuff to prevent his +departure. + +"You'll never, never come back no more if I let you go," said the child +between her sobs; but, like a true little daughter of Eve, she allowed +herself to be overcome by curiosity and her hold loosened. + +He drew out a small diamond-circled miniature that hung concealed round +his neck. + +"Who is it?" he asked in a whisper. + +"Mother!" cried Meg; and he was delighted at the recognition. + +"There! You shall keep it for me if you'll let me go," he said, and put +it in her pink baby fingers, closing them gently over it. + +Meg smiled at the shimmer of the stones. "I'll look in and see you +asleep," he told her, and kissed her very tenderly as he left; but he +did not look in again. Another scene was more than he could stand, and +his sister advised him not to. + +Meg fell asleep at last with the miniature in her hand, but woke in the +middle of the night with a terrified consciousness that some one was +bending over her, and feeling stealthily under her pillow. + +"It's Lazarus! Father, father!" she screamed, but the figure fled +incontinently--and in the morning Meg's diamonds were gone. She never +spoke of her loss: like many a nervous child she could not bear to talk +of nightly terrors; but for years she was haunted with the idea of that +gaunt hungry figure "just outside," who might creep again into her room +and stand by her with freezing hands and frost-bitten feet,--a sort of +embodied and revengeful poverty. + +Nursery days ended under the new régime, and the pretty spoilt baby +developed into a shy little schoolroom girl, who curtsied demurely, and +spoke in a whisper when she appeared with her sisters in the +drawing-room, for a terrible half-hour before dinner. + +The girls had their meals in the schoolroom at the top of the house, +with Miss Cripps, who, poor thing, had a dull enough time of it; and +their world was quite distinct from their aunt's as a rule, though she +occasionally invaded it, very much to their dismay. + +Mrs. Russelthorpe had no intention of treating her nieces unfairly, and +no money was spared over their education; if little love was lavished on +them they certainly never expected, and probably never consciously +missed it. + +Laura and Kate held together with a close and exclusive alliance; and +little Meg, who was rather "out of it" so far as her sisters were +concerned, would nurse her doll in a corner, and wear the pink off its +cheeks with her kisses. + +Laura was a sturdy broad-shouldered girl, with a square jaw and clear +blue eyes. She was abnormally solemn in the drawing-room, as indeed they +all were, but possessed a fund of dry humour that would bubble up +suddenly and quaintly even in schoolroom days, and a philosophical +self-reliance that unfortunately had a tendency to degenerate into +selfishness. + +Kate was graceful and delicate. She had languid and rather plaintive +manners, and gave promise of unusual beauty. She was lazy and apparently +yielding, though, as a matter of fact, she possessed a gentle tenacity +of purpose that seldom readily gave way to anything; but none of the +Deanes were wanting in obstinacy. + +One unhappy day Aunt Russelthorpe made a sudden descent on the +schoolroom. She had a habit of bursting in at irregular intervals in +order to see how things were going: for she never quite trusted any +governess, and was genuinely determined to do her duty by the girls. Her +advent was generally a prelude to storms. + +"A good storm clears the air," she used to declare; and doubtless she +went away the happier for having relieved her mind; as for the +atmosphere she left behind, it is open to doubt whether that benefited. + +This especial storm marked a crisis in Meg's life, warming her distrust +of her aunt into an absolute dislike, that tended to make her childhood +and girlhood both morbid and unhappy. + +It was seven o'clock, and lessons were over--Miss Cripps was caught +napping, and Laura and Kate were interrupted in the game they were +playing together, when Mrs. Russelthorpe opened the door. + +Miss Cripps had no _savoir faire_ whatever, and they were all taken by +surprise, and stared silently at the apparition in evening dress, +suddenly appearing in that dull room. + +"How sleepy you all are!" cried Mrs. Russelthorpe. "I never saw such +quiet children! Do you _never_ have any conversation? One would think I +beat you. Where's Margaret? Oh, sitting in a corner as usual. You are +getting much too old for dolls, Margaret. Miss Cripps shouldn't allow +you to be such a baby--why, how old are you?" + +Meg crimsoned up to the very roots of her hair, clasped her doll more +tightly, her eyes growing round and dilated, and remained speechless. + +"The child's a fool! How--old--are--you?" with exaggerated clearness, +and a full stop between each word. + +"Twelve," murmured Meg; and then began to cry from sheer nervousness. +There are some natures whom tears aggravate beyond endurance; Aunt +Russelthorpe lost patience and shook her niece, and the doll fell to the +ground. + +It was an old and worn and dirty doll, and Mrs. Russelthorpe hated +anything old; it was awkward of Meg to drop it, and awkwardness set her +nerves on edge. She caught the doll up by its leg, and with an +exclamation of disgust threw it into the fire. + +Meg screamed, and sprang forward to save it, with her face suddenly as +white as her pinafore. Before any one could stop her, she had plunged +her hand into the flames, and dragged out a melting mass. + +Mrs. Russelthorpe, with praiseworthy presence of mind, caught up the rug +and smothered her niece in it. + +The blaze was out in a minute, but Meg's arm was badly burnt, and her +doll was a blackened stump. + +The child was beside herself with grief, and for the moment she no more +felt physical pain than if she had been under chloroform. She turned to +her aunt with her grey eyes blazing. + +"Oh! how I _hate_ you, Aunt Russelthorpe!" she cried. "I can't burn +you--I wish--I wish I could; but I will hate you every moment of every +day just as long as ever I live!" + +It was after this episode that Meg took to slipping away in play-hours, +and wandering off on her own devices. She felt secretly sore with Miss +Cripps, and Laura and Kate, who had all looked on, and done nothing to +avert the tragedy. She buried her doll in a corner of Bryanston Square, +wrapped in a cambric handkerchief; but she could never laugh or play +there afterwards. + +She had suffered for that bit of wax as if it had been a sentient +creature, that she had seen writhe in the flames. The object had been +absurd enough, but the love that enveloped it had been living, and that +died hard. + +Meg shot up, mentally and physically about this time, and grew lanky and +pale: she was beginning to leave childish ways behind her; but her +childish grief had one odd result,--it led to a curious alliance between +herself and her old uncle, who, of all people in the world, was supposed +to most detest children. + +The Russelthorpes seldom dined alone; but Mr. Russelthorpe, having +established a reputation for eccentricity, left the entertaining to his +wife, and would often shuffle off to his quiet study, even before dinner +was fairly over. + +One night he was earlier than usual. + +His slippered feet made no noise as he crossed the hall, but he drew a +breath of relief on entering his own den, and his breath was echoed by a +startled gasp from the top of the library steps. + +There sat a slim pale girl, with three volumes in her lap, and a fourth +in her arms. She had taken sanctuary in his library (which even +housemaids durst not invade) for three weeks, but she was discovered at +last. + +The two gazed at each other in silence. Uncle Russelthorpe's sharp eyes +began to twinkle under their heavy brows, Meg's grew large with despair. + +"Upon my word!" he said slowly. "And what are you here for?" + +The dining-room door opened at this moment, and the sound of voices +reached them, Aunt Russelthorpe's high above the rest. + +"Oh, don't call her! Please, please," cried Meg, with desperate +entreaty. "I didn't mean any harm, I didn't really--I always have gone +before you came in--I won't ever stay so late again--I came to--to get +away from them all." + +"Hm--so did I," said Uncle Russelthorpe; and he shut the door, and drew +the thick curtain before it. + +"How long do you generally stop, ghost?" + +"Till the clock strikes half-past seven," said Meg. + +"Oh," said he, "you had better keep to your time. Ghosts are always +regular in their visitations, but don't make any noise if you want to +haunt me. I don't allow bodies in here, only spirits." He glanced at her +again under his eyebrows. + +"You've not flesh enough to speak of," he said. "Yes, I think you may +stay." + +So Meg stayed till the half-hour, when she took off her shoes in order +to make no noise, stole from her high perch, and vanished on tip-toe. + +She was pathetically grateful to him for the privilege; and their +friendship prospered. + +It was a characteristic of the old gentleman that he felt no +responsibility for her. She devoured his books as she chose, and so long +as she treated them carefully, he was only amused at her choice. He let +her go her own way, as he let his wife; Meg worshipped him for his +so-called kindness, and answered with eyes full of reverence when he +addressed her; she thought his laziness patience, and his tolerance +angelic. + +All her life she saw heroes in ordinary men and women, and was +disappointed if they failed to act up to her ideal of them. It was a +propensity that cost her bitter tears--but, after all, the world might +be the worse without the few fools who go on believing all things of +those they love. + +Sometimes Uncle Russelthorpe would take no notice of his "ghost"; and +then, true to her part, she never spoke; sometimes, when the humour took +him, he would draw her out and amuse himself with her quaint remarks. +Occasionally her questions slightly discomposed him, "irresponsible" +though he was. + +"What does Socrates mean by _this_?" the clear, unabashed voice would +ask; and Uncle Russelthorpe would interrupt the reading aloud that +followed, with a hasty,-- + +"Oh, that is meant for old men like me, not for women or girls. You +needn't think about it." + +Fortunately, Meg had no morbid curiosity; and the ancient writers with +whom her childish spirit communed left no stain on her innocence. + +Sir Thomas Browne fascinated her; for the twelve-year-old girl, like the +visionary doctor, had a strong leaning toward the supernatural. + +Once Uncle Russelthorpe saw her shudder, as she bent over the big folio +on her knee. + +"What's the matter?" he inquired. + +"Sir Thomas Browne says rather frightening things sometimes," said Meg, +and proceeded to quote. + +"_But that those phantasms appear often, and do frequent cemeteries, +charnel houses, and churches, it is because those are the dormitories, +where the devil, like an insolent champion, beholds with pride the +spoils and trophies of his victory in Adam._" + +"Do you think he really does do that, uncle?" + +"Eh? Who? Does what?" said Uncle Russelthorpe, taking snuff. + +"The--the devil," whispered Meg. "Does he truly walk about the +cemeteries like an insolent champion?" + +"We all make our own Devil, as we make our own God," said Mr. +Russelthorpe. "You and your friend Sir Thomas make a very terrific one, +with uncommonly long horns, because you are both cursed with +imagination." + +"I don't understand," said the child, after puzzling some time over this +reply; and perhaps it was as well she didn't. + +On the whole, the hours in the library were good for Meg. Mrs. +Russelthorpe observed that she was getting less babyish, and put the +change down to her own excellent treatment. She would probably have +disapproved of the evening "hauntings" had she known of them; but Mr. +Russelthorpe held his tongue on the subject, and they continued till +Meg's lesson hours were lengthened with her petticoats, and she was well +into her "teens". The cleverest of us are allowed less management than +we sometimes fancy, wherein Providence shows some mercy. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + + The madman saith he says so--It is strange! + + +Margaret was not brought out till she was nearly twenty. + +"She was ridiculously young for her age," her aunt said; "besides, three +unmarried nieces were too many, and Margaret was so unsteady that the +least taste of excitement turned her head." + +There was reason in all her remarks. A very little change excited Meg, +as a very little champagne will excite habitual water-drinkers, and she +was remarkably youthful in her enthusiasms. + +Laura and Kate became engaged almost at the same time; Mr. Deane came +down to the family place in Kent, and there were grand doings before the +joint wedding. + +Ravenshill had not been so gay since the time when Mr. Deane's young +wife reigned there, and when the children pattered merrily about the +passages. + +Meg was always overjoyed when her father came home, and he on his side +was inclined to be proud of his pretty daughter. She had developed fast, +and was far prettier at twenty than when he had last seen her at +sixteen. The youngest Miss Deane bid fair to rival Kate, who was the +acknowledged beauty of the family. + +She was a slim fair girl, with a sweet rather thin face, and eager +innocent grey eyes. + +Her looks were remarkably subject to moods. Her colour would come and go +when she talked, and when she was with any one whom she cared for, and +who took the trouble to overcome her shyness, she would light up into +real brilliancy of beauty. Alone with her father she was often gay, and +always intensely interested and sympathetic; with her aunt she was cold +and constrained, having never overcome her childish horror of her. + +During Meg's childhood the dislike was chiefly on her own side; for Mrs. +Russelthorpe troubled her head very little about the whims of her +youngest niece, but after she came out it was a different matter. + +Meg had always been the favourite child, and during this last visit had +become in some measure her father's confidante. + +She caught his opinions with a thoroughness and wholesale admiration +that delighted him; she brightened when he entered the room, and +responded eagerly to his lightest humour. + +There was no _arrière pensée_ in her adaptability. Meg loved her father +and hated her aunt, and made no secret of either feeling; but hers was +not a nature to lay plots, and she would have been astonished had she +guessed how often her aunt had said bitterly of late that "Margaret was +cleverer than people fancied, and knew how to get round poor Charles". + +Mrs. Russelthorpe and her youngest niece walked into Dover one day to +return a call. + +Mrs. Russelthorpe was determined that neither her own conscience nor the +world should accuse her of neglecting her duty; and, now that Meg was +fairly grown-up, she chaperoned her everywhere, with at least as much +vigour as she had expended on Laura and Kate. + +Meg, like her father, had a natural turn for society, but her aunt's +criticisms made her nervous, and she was apt to be both shy and absent. + +Some few people had been attracted by the rather pathetic charm that the +girl possessed; but, as a rule, nothing but monosyllables could be got +out of her in her aunt's presence, and she was generally accounted +"disappointing". + +The July sun was blazing as the two ladies walked along the white Dover +road. + +They were offered red and white wine when they reached their +destination; and either that or the hot room made Meg giddy. + +Her aunt cried sharply: "Margaret, are you quite moonstruck?" And then +Meg "jumped" violently, and spilt her wine on the carpet. + +"You want a breath of the sea to freshen you up, my dear," said her +hostess kindly. "Run outside, and sit on the beach for a bit." + +"Oh, thank you," cried Meg; and lifted her soft eyes, with the sudden +sweet smile that always won old ladies hearts, and rather irritated her +aunt. + +"I am so sorry I spilt your wine, I generally am stupid. I think you had +better get rid of me, and I should like to sit by the sea;" and she ran +downstairs before Mrs. Russelthorpe could raise an objection. + +A fresh wind crisped the surface of the water, so that it was covered +with curly white flecks, and it was hard to tell which was bluest, sea +or sky. Meg's eyes ached with sunshine; but it refreshed and exhilarated +her, and so did the salt breeze that tossed against her cheek. + +The beach was crowded with nursery-maids and children, niggers and +Punches, and men selling indigestible gooseberries, and women with false +lace. + +Meg bought some of the last--the hungry-looking vendor making her feel +sad, even after she had paid an exorbitant price for the purchase. + +"Blessing on you, my lady, and may you never know a want, and live in +sunshine all your days, and tread on nothing but velvet with your pretty +feet, and have your hands always full of gold!" cried the beggar. But +somehow the blessing sounded to Meg like a curse, and the envious hunger +in the tramp's eyes made her shudder. "I hope some one else will give +you more--it is all I have with me," she said gently, and stood looking +after her _protégée_ as she trudged off. + +The woman was less lucky in her next appeal. The "'Arries" whom she +persecuted were inclined to chaff her, whereupon she responded with a +volley of abuse. Meg blushed and got up to move away, when her attention +was arrested by a man who had joined the group, and laid his hand on the +tramp's arm. + +"I have a message for you," he said, "from the Lord, who has heard your +words and is grieving for you; and for you," turning to the men, "from +the Master, whose wrath is upon those who jeer at the unfortunate!" + +"He is a looney straight from Bedlam!" said one of the men. + +"I am not mad," said the stranger simply; and across Meg's mind flashed +St. Paul's answer, "I am not mad, most noble Festus!" + +This man reminded her of an apostle, but not of St. Paul--rather, +perhaps, of St. Peter. + +There was an unmistakably "out-of-door" look about him, and he walked +with an even springy tread, like one to whom exercise is a joy. + +He was about thirty years of age, burnt with sun and air. His deep set +blue eyes had an intent expression in them, his mouth was partly hidden +by his curly fair beard. + +He clasped his hands, holding them straight in front of him, the sinews +of his wrists standing out like cord. A few idlers lounged within +hearing, ready for any free entertainment, religious or otherwise. + +Margaret stood still and listened. He spoke at first jerkily, with long +pauses between each sentence, and with an anxious strained look in his +eyes as if he were waiting for inspiration. + +"The Lord has sent me to speak to you. His hand leads me--from one place +to another--to call the souls He died for to Him. I am unworthy, I +cannot speak as I would--my words halt." + +"Cheer up, old man," called out a dissipated youth irreverently; and the +crowd giggled. Meg, standing on the outskirts, felt a pang of pity; she +had a painful sympathy with any one who was laughed at, but apparently +the touch of mockery inspired rather than depressed him. He fixed his +blue eyes suddenly on the youth, who reddened and slunk back. "Ay, +ay--it's to you the Lord is calling," he cried. "Speak, Lord! Speak +through my lips that this soul may hear! He is crying aloud--turn--turn +from the path of destruction. He stands in the way to stop you! His arms +are spread out wide--His feet are bleeding. The pain of the nails +crushing through them was sweeter to Him than the smoothness of the +Courts of Heaven. Among His many mansions His soul is still in pain for +the children created of His Father. He rests not day or night till He +has drawn them to Him. Behold the hunger for souls is upon me--even upon +me--and what I feel is His Spirit moving in me. Come--ye who are weary. +He had not where to lay His head. Come--ye who weep--for the Man of +Sorrows has tasted the cup of bitterness and He only can comfort. +Come--ye who have sinned. He fought wi' that devil, and conquered him. +Lord, Thou art standing by my side now, as Thou didst stand on the +shores of Galilee; but this people's eyes are holden that they cannot +see Thee. Yet let us kneel before Thee, for Thou art here!" + +He flung himself on his knees as he spoke, and looked up as if his eyes +indeed beheld the "Son of Man" in their midst. + +"Kneel! Kneel!" he cried imperatively; and swayed by his intense belief, +his strong personal magnetism, his hearers knelt. + +In the dead silence that followed, Meg's heart was beating wildly, she +alone did not kneel; perhaps her education made any display of religious +emotion more repugnant to her than to the rest of his audience; but her +knees were shaking under her, and she turned white with the intensity of +the awe with which she realised the presence of God. + +"Lord, we kneel to Thee. We acknowledge Thee our God. We will follow +Thee in all things, counting riches as nought, and throwing aside the +pleasures of this world. Thou who wast poor among men, and +travel-stained and weary, shall be from henceforth our King and +Pattern," he cried, still looking up as if making a vow to One whom his +bodily eyes beheld. Then suddenly his glance fell on Meg. + +"There is one here who does not kneel to Thee yet," he cried. "Oh, my +God, touch her, melt her! The daughters of Jerusalem followed Thee +weeping. Mary wept at Thy cross. Wilt Thou not draw her too? this woman, +who longs to come to Thee, but fears----" Then, with a ring of triumph +in his tone, as if an answer had been vouchsafed to him:-- + +"He calls you!" he cried. "You have chosen for Him! Kneel!--kneel! Pour +out your soul in thanksgiving!" And Meg, sobbing, fell on her knees. + +She heard little of the oration which followed; she did not know that a +man behind her was groaning over his sins; that two girls had been +persuaded to take the pledge; that one tipsy old woman was proclaiming, +somewhat pharisaically, that "she'd been converted fourteen years ago, +and 'adn't no call to be 'saved' fresh now." + +The preacher's voice and the splash of the waves on the shingle sounded +far away and indistinct. + +Always she had longed for a personal revelation of the Christ; and now +it came to her. + +As she had never realised before she realised now the "travel-stained" +Son of the Father, whose mighty love had made the joys of Heaven pain +till the lost were found. Ah, well! Since the day of Pentecost, and +before, it is through man's voice that that revelation has come, and +through men who have been baptised with a fiery baptism. + +Presently they began to sing; and some one officiously touched her +shoulder, and said, "Ain't you a-goin' to join, miss?" And she stood up, +feeling as if dazed by a sudden fall. + +Her overwrought nerves were jarred. + +The claptrappy tune, the overdone emphasis, the vulgar intonation +distressed her; she was ashamed of the feeling, but could not help it; +she turned to walk away. The preacher paused in the middle of a line. + +"You have put your hand to the plough; you will not turn back!" he cried +pleadingly. The public appeal annoyed her for a second, but when she met +his eyes, bright with an earnest desire to "save her soul," her anger +died. + +"I hope not," she said gently; and walked away with his fervent "God +help you!" ringing in her ears. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + + The world is very odd, we see; + We do not comprehend it. + But in one fact we all agree,-- + God won't and we can't mend it. + + Being common-sense it can't be sin + To take it as I find it: + The pleasure--to take pleasure in; + The pain--try not to mind it. + + --_A. H. Clough._ + + +Dover was unusually gay in the year when Barnabas Thorpe held his +revival meetings there. Mr. Deane gave a large ball at Ravenshill, all +the county magnates attended, and the guests danced in the old picture +gallery. + +It was a remarkably pretty entertainment, and the host and his three +daughters were worthy descendants of the ruffled and powdered Deanes who +looked down on them from the walls. + +They were a stately family. Mrs. Russelthorpe herself was a most +dignified woman, and Kate and Margaret had inherited her grace of +bearing. + +Margaret in her gold and white dress, with pearls on her white neck, was +a good deal admired, but her attention kept wandering from her partners +to her father, who was talking and laughing merrily, but who coughed +every now and then rather ominously. Consumption, that scourge of so +many English families, was terribly familiar in this one. + +Meg had been immensely excited about the ball before-hand, and had taken +intense interest in all the preparations for it, including her own new +dress; but, at the last, something had occurred to change the current of +her thoughts, she might be arrayed in sackcloth now for all she cared. + +"Margaret's character comes out even in small things," Mrs. Russelthorpe +observed cuttingly. "She is unstable as water. One can never depend on +her in the least. Where do you think I found her this afternoon? Just +emerging from a vulgar crowd on Dover sands, where she had been staring +at a singing minstrel or a play-actor or a buffoon of some kind! She +came in with her head full of nothing else, and wanted to tease her +father into going back with her to listen too." + +"Ah! I heard that fellow on the beach; his buffoonery takes the form of +preaching," said the lawyer to whom she had made the remark, and who was +rather a favourite with Mrs. Russelthorpe. He glanced at Margaret, who +was standing a little way off, but was quite unconscious of his +observation. + +"It is a curious question whether that sort of canter is most knave or +fool," he said. "I incline to the former hypothesis; Deane, to the +latter. Miss Deane sees him as a sort of inspired prophet, I suppose. A +good deal depends on the colour of one's own glasses, you know. After +all, hers are the prettiest!" + +Mrs. Russelthorpe shrugged her shoulders with a short laugh as she +turned away. + +"I did not know you had such an innocent taste for bread and butter," +she said. + +Mr. Sauls looked after her with some amusement; it was not the first +time that he had noticed that there was no love lost between Mr. Deane's +favourite daughter and her aunt, and he had occasionally felt sorry for +the girl, as evidently the weaker of the two. + +"If it isn't possible to serve two masters, two mistresses must be a +degree more hopeless," he remarked to himself. "I really don't know that +I can do without Mrs. Russelthorpe yet--but I'll risk it!" And he walked +across the room, and asked Miss Deane to dance. + +Meg stared with uncomplimentary surprise; she had always considered that +Mr. Sauls "flattered Aunt Russelthorpe," and had despised him +accordingly with sweeping girlish severity. She would have refused to +dance if she had had sufficient presence of mind, but he (who was never +wanting in that quality) took her momentary hesitation for acceptance, +and she found herself engaged to him, she hardly knew how. + +She could not have discovered a partner more entirely unlike herself if +she had ransacked England for her opposite; and her father laughed, but +with a little sense of chagrin, when he saw Mr. Sauls offer her his arm. + +The Saulses usually came to Dover for a few months in the year. The +county people had turned their aristocratic backs on them, till Mr. +Deane, in a moment of generous enthusiasm, had ridden full tilt against +"pernicious prejudices," and had introduced young Sauls as his dear +friend right and left. + +This had occurred some time before. County exclusiveness was no longer +the subject on which Mr. Deane was hottest, and, to tell the truth, +George Sauls was no longer his dear friend; but the young man amused +Mrs. Russelthorpe, and had kept his footing in the house. + +Nature had not been kind to Mr. Sauls in the matter of looks, but had +made it up in brains; he knew his own worth in that respect, and meant +to get full market value for his capabilities. He had an assured belief +in himself, of which time proved him justified. + +When the plums of his profession began to fall to his share, people +called him uncommonly lucky; but fortune only pretends to be blind, I +fancy, and seldom favours fools. + +"You are wishing me at Jericho," he remarked, as Meg unwillingly took +his arm. "But your father's daughter ought to be liberal above all +things--ought not she?" + +Meg, whose generosity was easily wakened, coloured and then smiled, +pleased at the implied compliment to Mr. Deane. + +"I know that my father is always fair to every one," she said. "I did +not mean to be rude to you, but _he_ promised me this dance, and I am so +disappointed that he has not come. Of course, it is nicer to dance with +father than with anybody." + +"Of course," assented Mr. Sauls. He would have disbelieved that +statement if any other girl had ventured on it; but he was intelligent +enough to appreciate Meg's truthfulness. Indeed, the very essence of +George Sauls' cleverness lay in the capability of rightly estimating +many diverse sorts of characters. + +He persevered in his efforts to interest her, partly because he was in +the habit of persevering in anything he undertook, partly because it had +occurred to him that Miss Deane was an heiress, and partly because she +really attracted him, perhaps by the law of contraries. + +He was more than ten years Meg's senior in age, and twenty in +experience; therefore he listened to her opinions with respect, and took +care not to appear to patronise her. Meg was interested very easily. + +Her shyness wore off, and she let him draw out wonderful theories +imbibed from her father about Universal Brotherhood, and the Rights of +the People, and the New School of Poetry, and heaven knows what besides. + +Mr. Sauls led her on, and hid his occasional amusement fairly well. + +Miss Deane was a "very transparent little girl," he thought; but yet she +touched him. + +He felt sorry for any one so crammed with illusions, so terribly +sensitive, and so remarkably unpractical--besides, she was remarkably +pretty too! + +Meg thought him very ugly at first, and first impressions were vivid +(though not always lasting) with her. Meg had no "indifference" in her; +she always liked or disliked emphatically--and his was not the kind of +face to take her fancy. + +Mr. Sauls was a heavy-looking man, thick, and rather round-shouldered. +He was dark-complexioned, with a coarse clever mouth, and a good +forehead. + +Eyeglasses happened to be an affectation of the year among young +lawyers. Mr. Sauls had a trick of dropping his when he was amused or +excited, and opening his eyes, which would brighten as suddenly as an +owl's when it startles you by lifting the dull film, and transfixing you +by an uncomfortably "wide-awake" gaze. + +He was perfectly aware that Meg had disliked him, and that he was +changing her opinion, and entertaining her pretty successfully. + +The more trouble he took, the more determined he became to make friends +with this quixotic maiden, who fancied herself wildly democratic, and +who was rather more fastidious in reality than any one he had met, +saving the father she occasionally reminded him of. + +He led the conversation away from abstract subjects after a time, and +fell into two or three small errors, but had wit to see and cover them. + +For example, he made a sharp remark at the expense of Mrs. Russelthorpe, +whom he felt convinced Meg disliked. Meg raised her eyebrows, drew +herself up, and snubbed the witticism. + +"All these Deanes are d----d thin-skinned," he reflected, for more than +once his own coarser nature had rasped and offended Meg's father, but he +did not make that mistake again, and he admired the girl none the less +for the rebuff. + +He liked her pride, which was quite unconscious, and her inconsistencies +amused him. + +They looked down upon the waltz (which had only just come in, and which +many people saw for the first time that night) from the picture gallery +which runs round the great hall. + +Mr. Sauls was content with that arrangement, Meg stood tapping her small +foot in time to the music. + +"Father does not like to see me dance anything but squares, unless it is +with him," she said; and Mr. Sauls, following the direction of her +wistful eyes, observed that "Mr. Deane approved waltzing only for other +people's daughters," but, taught by experience, refrained from making +his comment aloud. + +He earned his partner's warm gratitude by relinquishing his claim to +take her to supper, when (that fast innovation having whirled to its +close) Meg's father actually remembered her; but later in the evening he +discovered that she had had nothing to eat, and insisted on carrying her +off and supplying her with chicken and ice cream as compensation for his +former abnegation. + +Supper was really over, and they were almost alone in the big +dining-room. + +Meg had a bright colour in her cheeks now, her eyes and lips both +laughed, her spirits had gone up like quick-silver. Mr. Sauls had never +seen any one change so quickly and completely; she was radiant for the +moment, and joy is a great beautifier. + +Her excitement was contagious. It did credit to the man's self-command +that he managed to keep his admiration to himself; Meg would be hard to +win he knew; he smiled, thinking how exceedingly astonished she would +have been if she could have read his mind, and seen that he had set it +hard on winning her. + +On one point he did allow himself a slightly incautious question. + +"Miss Deane," he said suddenly, "I haven't the faintest shadow of right +to ask, but--have you come in for a million of money? Or is your worst +enemy dead? Or what good fortune has befallen you since the beginning of +this evening? There, I am quite at your mercy! I had no earthly business +to inquire, only--I should so uncommonly like to know." + +Meg laughed ruefully. + +"How very bad I must be at keeping my own counsel," she said; "or else +_you_ must be very clever. Don't tell any one else, please, for it isn't +quite settled yet. I asked my father to let me go with him. He is going +abroad after the wedding. I want him to let me live with him altogether. +It is so difficult to find father alone in the daytime, and that was why +I was so very anxious to dance with him to-night. It is impossible to +ask a favour with my--with some one else looking on." She paused a +moment; then the pleasure of telling good news brought a still happier +curve to her parted lips. + +"Isn't it good of him?" she cried. "He has said yes." + +"No! how remarkably kind!" said Mr. Sauls, a little drily; but this +time Meg was quite unconscious of the possibility of sarcasm. + +She enjoyed all the rest of the night with the keen power of enjoyment, +that is perhaps some compensation for a keen susceptibility to pain; and +when the guests had departed and the lights were all out in the hall, +she ran up to her own room humming a dance as she ran. + +"Meg is gay to-night," said her father, lifting her face by the chin, +and kissing her on the landing. "Good-night, Peg-top; don't dance in +your sleep! I wish you would always keep that colour." + +"So I will when you take me to live with you," whispered Meg. + +She put out her candle, and throwing open her window sat looking out +down the moonlit road, spinning fancies as beautiful as moonbeams. + +There was no touch of sentiment about them, for the habit she had of +comparing the men she met to her father was always to their +disadvantage. How very much handsomer, cleverer, and incomparably better +he was than all the rest of his sex put together! How charming to keep +house for him! How delightful to help him carry out all his ideas! How +good she would be, even to Aunt Russelthorpe, when she entered into +possession of her castle in the air! Her mood grew graver as she sat +there like a ghost in the dark, watching the white clouds chase each +other across the deep night sky. She remembered the preacher on the +sands again and shivered, half frightened to think how his words had +taken hold of her. "Thou who wast poor among men, and travel-stained and +weary, shalt be our King." + +What would the preacher have thought of them all to-night? What sort of +discipleship was this? Meg involuntarily fingered the gleaming gold and +white dress, which certainly seemed in pretty strong opposition to the +ascetic side of religion. + +"But when I live with father, he will explain everything and make things +right," she repeated to herself. "Father" had no leisure to listen to +her difficulties at present, but in the good time coming it would all be +quite different; and in the meanwhile where he saw no harm of course +there could be none. It is really such a great comfort to have a pope, +that it is no wonder some women keep their eyes shut so long as they +possibly can. "I shall read all the books he likes and become very +clever, but not at all a 'blue-stocking,' because he doesn't like women +who think they know as much as men," reflected Meg. "I shall be able to +choose my own dresses, and I think I shall wear sky-blue, for it is his +favourite colour. We'll spend very little on eating or drinking, because +he doesn't really approve of luxury, and----Oh! what was that?" + +She jumped up, rather startled and guilty. Had Aunt Russelthorpe divined +her thoughts, and come to knock down her towering palace? + +No; it was only Laura, in a dressing-gown, looking comfortably +substantial and cheerful. Meg was surprised to see her, for the sisters +did not often seek her society. + +"I thought I should find you awake, Meg," said she. "Do, for goodness' +sake! shut your window. What an uncomfortable child you are! Why, you +have not even taken off your ball-room dress, and you have no candle! +Don't look at me as if I were a ghost, please. I know it's an odd time +of the night to choose, but I hardly ever see you alone in the day, and +somehow I wanted to talk to you. Kate likes to have me to herself, you +see." + +"Yes, I know," said Meg rather sadly; for Kate was jealous of any claim +on Laura's affection. + +Laura sat down on the bed, resting her hands on her knees, and turning +out her elbows. The attitude made her look squarer than ever; but there +was an air of purpose about her set little figure that tickled Meg's +fancy,--Meg's sighs and smiles were always near together! + +"Oh!" she cried, laughing. "Even your shadow on the wall looks as if it +had something to say, and meant to say it." + +"We settled about the wedding to-night," said Laura, not noticing this +irrelevant remark. "Kate and I are going to be married on the same +day,--this day month!" + +"So soon!" said Meg. "Oh, Laura," she hesitated a moment, being always +shy with her sisters, "I hope you will--will like it." "Will be happy" +was what she meant, but Laura was apt to snub any expression of feeling. + +"I shouldn't do it if I didn't!" said Laura; "if by 'it' you mean +matrimony. The sooner we get the wedding over the better, I think. Aunt +Russelthorpe is arranging it all, and settling who are to be the +bridesmaids. I don't mean to interfere. It is the very last chance she +shall ever have of putting a finger into any pie of mine, so she may as +well make the most of it; but I came to talk about you, not about +myself. Follow my example, Meg, and get away from this house as soon as +you can, for if you and Aunt Russelthorpe are left together here, you +will drive each other perfectly crazy." + +"I spoke to father to-night," said Meg. "I begged him to let me live +with him, and he nearly promised that----" + +"That which he'll never perform," said Laura. "Oh, Meg, what a baby you +are! Can't you _see_ that it's no good depending on father? Oh! you +needn't look so angry. He can't help it,--it's not his fault, of course. +Aunt Russelthorpe is stronger than he is, that's all, and she is +jealous of you. My dear, you think you understand him better than she +does, because you sympathise with all his fine ideas, and she doesn't; +but she knew him before you were heard of; she can make up his mind for +him, and save him trouble, and make him comfortable. On the whole, you'd +much better study a man's weaknesses than his nobilities, if you want to +have a hold over him; but _you'll_ never take in that bit of wisdom if +you live to a hundred, and I expect she was born with it." + +"Father hasn't got weaknesses--at least, I don't want to discover them. +For shame, Laura, to talk so of him!" cried Meg. And Laura laughed and +nodded. + +"Just so! That's where Aunt Russelthorpe has the pull over you," she +retorted. "Don't quarrel with her, Meg. You'll get the worst of it. Try +and keep the peace till you are independent of her. Don't fight for the +possession of father, for it's a losing game, but take what offers, and +when you are clear of her authority snub her as much as you like. Shan't +I enjoy it if she tries to interfere with me after I am married? I hope +she will," said Laura, with a twinkle of fun; "but I am afraid she +won't. She is too clever for that. Really, I've a great admiration for +my aunt." + +"Have you?" said Meg. "I hate her! but I shouldn't want to snub her if I +were free of her. I only want never to be in the same place, or world, +with her again. I shiver when I hear her voice." + +"Exactly!" said Laura. "And that is so silly of you, Meg. What is the +use of a hate like that? It only gives her another advantage. However, I +suppose it's something in the way you are made that makes you take +things so. You always did; and you'll go on getting more and more +miserable, and you will aggravate her more and more, till she wears you +out altogether, unless you get away; and you can't go alone, and you +may wait till you are grey or till my aunt is dead before father takes +things into his own hands; and I really don't see how I can have you, +because----" + +"I wouldn't trouble you," said Meg proudly. She stood very upright, and +looked at her sister with wondering eyes. What were all these gloomy +prognostications leading to? + +"Well then, because you would not trouble me," said Laura. "And that +leaves one way out of the difficulty. Marry as soon as you can, Meg, +because you are too unhappy here! It was bad enough before; but now that +you've thrown down your gauntlet (how could you be such a little fool?), +and tried to get father away from Aunt Russelthorpe, it will be ten +times worse. If it were I it wouldn't matter. I never care twopence what +she says; but you'll suffer a martyrdom like St. Sebastian. All her +spiteful little arrows will stick. I declare on my honour, Meg, I would +give a thousand pounds, as well as my blessing, to hear you were going +to marry _any_ decently rich man who would be good to you!" + +"Oh Laura!" cried Meg, half amused, half aghast. + +"Oh Margaret!" cried her sister, mimicking her. "Yes; I know these are +not the right sentiments for a bride to express. If we had a mother I +shouldn't offer them; but I kept thinking about you this evening, and I +didn't like my thoughts. Don't you wait for impossibilities, Meg. I am +sure you believe in an impossible sort of lover, if ever you condescend +to think of one at all; half a knight and half a saint; some one who has +never loved any other woman, and never will, and yet isn't a milksop; +who drinks nothing but water, and doesn't care what he eats, but is as +strong as Goliath; who is full of high-flown ideas, and yet madly in +love; who is handsome as Adonis, and does not know it. Well! _don't_ +expect him; he doesn't exist, and, what's more, he would be a monster of +unnaturalness if he did! Take the man who'll fight your battles for you, +even though he isn't beautiful. Don't bother too much about his ideals. +If he is a good sort at home, and sticks to--well, his vulgar old +mother, we'll say--he'll probably stick to you. If he has brains, you'll +grow proud of him; if he is ambitious, that will suit you." + +She watched Meg while she spoke; but Meg was utterly unconscious: it +never occurred to her to put a name to Laura's hypothetical suitor; and +Laura (whose shrewd eyes had seen a good deal that evening) could only +hope her sage advice might bear fruit later. + +"Well, I've said my say," she remarked, taking up her candle and getting +off the bed. "Don't forget it! Don't be wretched because you cannot have +the moon. Who can? Not one of us gets what he starts by wanting--not one +in ten!" said Laura with a half-sigh. "But the people who eat their +half-loaves and make the most of makeshifts, are the happy ones--as +happiness goes. Good-night!" + +She got as far as the door, then turned, with a half comical, half +rueful face. "I might have been a better sister, I daresay," she said; +"and half a pound of help is worth a pound of good advice, tho' mine's +excellent; but, you see, there is Kate, and it doesn't pay to be fond of +too many people,--there'd be nothing left for oneself." + +Meg made no answer. Laura paused a moment longer. It was odd how her +heart softened to-night to the "little sister" she had never taken much +account of before. + +"Let's kiss each other for once!" she said. And Meg surprised, flung +both arms round her neck. + +"Oh Laura, you _do_ like me just a little then, don't you?" she cried. +"And you don't really believe all you've been saying? I do hate it so! I +would rather be unhappy all my life, than think that _nobody_ ever gets +anything but half-loaves and makeshifts. It is better to be miserable +than satisfied like that." + +"Oh Lord!" said Laura, who had a trick of strong language. "This comes +of trying to put a modicum of common-sense into your head. Go your own +way and be miserable, then. Some people do prefer it, I believe!" And +Meg got into bed at last, and had a horrible nightmare, in which she was +dancing with an angel who discoursed of the regeneration of the world, +till suddenly a horror fell on her, and she saw he was the devil in +disguise, and fled shrieking to Laura and Uncle Russelthorpe, who were +looking on from a corner, and Uncle Russelthorpe chuckled and +remarked:-- + +"Yes; every one has the original old gentleman under his skin; scratch +deep enough, and you'll find the savage instinct at the bottom of all +our refinements". A speech which Uncle Russelthorpe had really made +years before, and which had puzzled Meg's childish brain at the time; +but Laura shrugged her square shoulders, and said:-- + +"My dear, make the best of him; it is what we all do in the end". + +Meg's sisters were married from Ravenshill in the pretty month of May. + +The bridal party walked through the garden to the chapel under archways +of flowers and flags. + +Kate looked beautiful; Laura, very unmoved and like her ordinary self, +only as they passed under the church door she slid her hand into her +sister's and held it tight. Meg, following, saw the action. Kate hardly +noticed it; but that was an old story; indeed, it is a story that goes +on from generation to generation. + +The sunshine shone between clouds, and there was a light spring shower, +just sprinkling the procession as it wound between the beds of anemones +and daffodils. The drops clung to Meg's soft hair, and glistened there +like diamonds through the service. + +There were fourteen bridesmaids chosen by Aunt Russelthorpe, none of +them personal friends of either bride. Fourteen maids in green and +white,--a goodly company! + +Meg walked first, looking rather shy at finding herself in such unwonted +prominence; but she forgot that in the solemnity of the occasion when +they had entered the cool dark old church, and stood grouped under the +stained glass window that was put up by a Deane of the sixteenth century +in memory of a husband who died fighting. + +How many Deanes had been christened and married within those old walls? +George Sauls, standing far back in the aisle, wondered what visions were +passing through the chief bridesmaid's brain, and put in imagination a +white veil on her graceful bowed head. + +Aunt Russelthorpe nudged her suddenly. "Are you asleep, Margaret? Take +Laura's bouquet and gloves," she whispered in a sharp undertone; and Meg +blushed crimson, and hid her confusion in an armful of blossoms. + +"Meg's awkwardness was the only _contretemps_," as Mrs. Russelthorpe +said. "And that no one could provide against," she added. + +Everything else went off splendidly, and everything else was the result +of her generalship. + +Uncle Russelthorpe did not appear in church. "He is getting more +eccentric than ever," people whispered; but he was in the porch in cap +and slippers when the brides drove off. + +"Good-bye, Laura!" he said. "So you've got a husband instead of a sister +to take care of! Lord! Lord! how time flies! Twelve years since you all +came to us! I hope you'll be happy, my dear." + +"I'm sure I shall," said Laura cheerfully. "I _mean_ to be. Good-bye, +uncle;" and she kissed him, for the first time in her life. Aunt +Russelthorpe had never approved of their kissing their uncle; and Meg +could not help wondering whether it was affection or new-born +independence that prompted the embrace. + +Kate held out her hand coldly. She was ashamed of the queer figure the +old man cut. + +Laura's face positively beamed when she bid farewell to her aunt. + +"Mind you come and see me," she insisted hospitably, and a little +patronisingly, "I shall enjoy it!" She kissed Meg hurriedly, but clung a +moment to Kate. Kate's face was wet as the two parted. + +So they drove off in a shower of rice, and Aunt Russelthorpe stood +waving her handkerchief till they were out of sight. She had never felt +more kindly towards her nieces; and they, who had come to her as +children, and left as women, were glad enough to go. Surely there was +something a little tragic about the extreme cheerfulness of that +wedding; but no one thought it so, except perhaps their father, who said +with a sigh:-- + +"One wants the mother on these occasions". And when the last carriage +had departed and the last guest gone Mrs. Russelthorpe drew a long +breath of satisfaction as she reflected again that she certainly _had_ +"done well for those girls". + +She expressed as much to her brother, while they lingered together in +the great drawing-room before dinner. (Mr. Deane was the only member of +the family who ever beguiled Mrs. Russelthorpe's restless spirit into +dawdling.) + +He sighed rather heavily. + +"I am sure I don't understand how it is," he said, "but I seem to know +very little of them. Laura has always been so reserved, and Kate so +cold; and yet I am very fond of my children, and Meg is fond of me. I +won't have her marrying,--do you hear, sis? I can't spare poor little +Meg, and I really couldn't stand another son-in-law." + +"Margaret is neither poor nor little. I cannot imagine why you always +call her by baby names," said Mrs. Russelthorpe, with a hard ring in her +voice, which made him look up in surprise. + +"Parental foolishness, I suppose," he said. "I can't imagine why you +should mind if I do." And Mrs. Russelthorpe bit her lip, and repented of +her ebullition of impatience. + +Apparently her words had given him food for thought; for after a few +minutes' pause he said gravely:-- + +"I am meditating taking her away with me. You have been wonderfully +good. I can't think what I should have done with my poor bairns if I had +not had you to fall back on years ago; but, after all, Meg is quite +grown-up now,--at least, so she constantly assures me; and she does not +seem over happy here, though I daresay that is not your fault, and she +is exceedingly anxious to come. In fact, I couldn't say her nay. I am +afraid you will feel hurt, sis; but----" + +"On the contrary, I have no doubt it is a capital plan," said Mrs. +Russelthorpe briskly; and he leant back with an air of relief. After +all, Augusta was always sensible. Meg had imagined that her aunt would +be angry at the idea, but Meg was apt to take fancies. + +"Of course, you will give up wandering about the country when you +constitute yourself chaperon to a pretty daughter," said his sister, +sitting down opposite him, to comfortably discuss the project. "Margaret +is very attractive. In fact, to outsiders she is the most winning of the +three. I noticed that she excited a great deal of admiration at our +ball. She is so innocent she needs very careful guarding. I never let +her go anywhere alone, not even into Dover." + +"I had thought of showing her Italy," said Mr. Deane doubtfully; +"but,--well, perhaps you are right there, sis. I couldn't be constantly +at her elbow, and she is very rash. I remember now that I meant to give +her a hint about Sauls, who is all very well, and an uncommonly clever +man, and excellent company; but the way he stuck to my daughter +was--well--" (with a laugh) "was like his impertinence." + +"A girl of Margaret's age cannot be expected to have much worldly +wisdom. It really is hardly desirable that she should. I did not blame +the child," said Mrs. Russelthorpe, with a leniency which would +considerably have astonished her niece. "But no doubt you will be +cautious for her. You can't be too careful. I suppose you will live +here? She is full young to be mistress of such a big establishment, is +she not? And at present she is extremely forgetful, and naturally has no +idea whatever of housekeeping. But then you could manage things yourself +practically, and there are several nice families whom you could invite +to the house. Bachelor parties would be out of the question, in the +peculiar circumstances; but Margaret needs young society. There are the +Ripleys of Ripley Court, and the Melluishes of St. Andrew's, for +example." + +"Oh no; we couldn't have them," said Mr. Deane hastily. "You know, sis, +a very small dose of county magnates goes a long way with me. I don't +mind a ball for once, but I couldn't live in their set; besides, Meg +swears that she will be perfectly happy in a prolonged _tête-à-tête_." + +"Yes?" said his sister. She smiled, but a little doubtfully. "It would +hardly be fair on her to take her at her word," she remarked. "And I +know that you are not selfish, Charles, and don't mean it seriously when +you say you don't wish her to marry. Meg isn't cut out for an old maid. +Oh, you'll soon see that, in common justice to her, you must entertain +the county if you have the responsibility of bringing her out. As for +her being happy alone with you, I do not for a moment doubt her +truthfulness; she is candour itself, but she is variable, and she takes +her own moods seriously. Meg will be ready for a convent one day, and a +dance the next. You can never be sure of her. You are a charming +companion; perhaps if you amuse her a good deal she will not be moped +with you. _I_ have found her fits of depression rather trying, but then +I always consider that they arise from delicacy of constitution. You +will watch her health, won't you? Her chest is delicate, you know, +and----" + +"My dear Augusta!" he cried, appalled. "What a fearful number of +injunctions! I wonder whether I am equal to all these cares? Don't heap +on any more, please!" + +"You'll find out the rest for yourself," said Mrs. Russelthorpe +cheerfully. "It is an excellent plan, as I said before, and you will not +mind a little sacrifice of comfort. You'll stay here with Margaret, when +Joseph and I go back to town, then?" + +"Well--no--I am not quite prepared for that," he said, and dismay +evidently filled his heart. "Especially if Meg hasn't any notion of +housekeeping. I suppose it wouldn't do to take her to Florence with me, +eh?--No--well, since she is so delicate, and, as you say, so pretty and +attractive and guileless, perhaps I could hardly manage that; but +she'll be terribly disappointed. I tell you what! I will think it all +over, and write to her about it all from abroad. We need not give up the +idea of her coming to me some time. No doubt we can arrange something." + +Mrs. Russelthorpe acquiesced. "No doubt," she said; but she knew that +she had won that game. + +Mr. Deane left England a few weeks later. + +As he rode through the village with rather a heavy heart, for to do him +justice Meg's wistful face haunted him, he came upon an excited group of +people, in the centre of which stood a delicate-looking youth, and a big +fair-bearded man, who was talking with a strong north-country drawl. + +"Why, that is Widow Penge's son, and he is walking without his +crutches!" cried Mr. Deane, drawing rein. "And that other fellow must be +the preacher little Meg is so mad about." + +"I always thought Andrew Penge was a bit of an impostor," said Mrs. +Russelthorpe, who accompanied him; "and now I know it! Come, Charles, my +horse won't stand, and you'll miss the coach." + +The preacher had made a step forward as she spoke. + +"Is that Mr. Deane of Ravenshill? I've something to deliver to one o' +his family," he said; but Mr. Deane had ridden on. + +"He was going to give us a word in season," Mrs. Russelthorpe declared +contemptuously. "Charles'" good-natured tolerance for all kinds of +enthusiasts irritated her. + +Mr. Deane laughed his light kindly laugh. + +"Meg wanted me to make acquaintance with him, and I half promised I +would. I've lost my chance," he said. And his words were truer than he +thought. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + + +It was Meg's twenty-first birthday. She woke early, and went into the +garden while the dew was still thick on the grass, and there was a wet +haze, precursor of a broiling day, over everything. + +"How old I am growing!" she thought, as she shut the door softly behind +her and smiled with pleasure, and a most youthful sense of adventure, at +being out at that hour. She buried her nose in a cluster of seven-sister +roses, and their fragrant wet little faces covered hers with dew. Meg +was too fond of flowers to pick them. + +How lovely it was! The earth smelt so sweet, the spider's webs sparkled +like silver traceries. + +It was an enchanted land, seen through the mist; even the stones on the +gravel path showed wonderful colours, though they felt cold through thin +slippers. + +The girl looked as if she had stepped out of a fairy story herself, +while she wandered along with a soft wonder in her eyes. Her mind was +filled with guesses as to what would happen to her in the year to come. +A birthday was a fresh turning-point to Meg, from which she tried to +peep down a vista of possibilities. + +She leant over the garden gate presently, resting her round white arms +on it, and gazing idly up the quiet road. + +The flickering shadows played on her face, and made leafy patterns on +her white dress, and the honeysuckle touched her shoulder caressingly. + +Meg bent her head, and just put her lips to the fresh dew-washed flower, +then started violently, for a harsh laugh greeted her childish action. + +"Why, my pretty lady; you ought to have something better worth the +kissing!" cried some one. + +Meg stood erect, both offended and frightened, but much too proud to run +away. + +"What are you?" she said. And then a thrill of recollection came to her; +the voice was the voice of the hungry tramp who had begged from her on +the Dover beach. The woman scrambled up from the deep shadow of the +hedge under which she had spent the night, and stepped into the road. + +There was something gipsy-like about her bearing, and her cold eyes +scanned the young lady sharply. + +"There's no mistaking the nest you come from, my pretty," said she. +"You've your father--and a handsome gentleman he is too--written all +over you. You've got his smile too," as Meg's mobile face involuntarily +brightened at the compliment. "Sweet as sugar-sticks, and proud as the +devil. Hold out your hand, my lady, and let the gipsy read your life for +you. Why, you ain't scared, are you?" + +Meg hesitated a second, then stretched out her hand over the gate. The +woman was dirty, and too free in her speech to please the little lady, +who was used to being treated to low curtsies and deepest respect by her +father's tenants; but then there was a taste of excitement about the +fortune-telling, and Meg was half superstitious and half amused. + +Her hand looked very white and delicate in the tramp's grimy fingers. +The woman glanced from it to the girl's fair face, and began to prophesy +with an earnestness and apparent belief in her own words, which were +perhaps not wholly simulated. The blue veins stood out too clearly, and +the lines on Meg's palm were deeply cut. + +"You've more than one lover already," said the prophetess. "But your +heart's not touched yet. There's a dark man who is set on having you, +but you'll only bring him ill-luck. There's a woman who hates you +because she's jealous. Take care, or she'll do you a mischief. There's a +great change coming in your life soon--and----" But Meg snatched her +hand away and stood ashamed. The preacher of the beach was coming up the +hill. + +She stepped back into the shadow in order that he might go by without +seeing her: she did not care to be caught having her fortune told like a +silly servant girl. She knew of no reason in the world why he should +stop at the Ravenshill gate; and yet an absolute certainty that he would +so stop, and that he would speak to her, came over her. Perhaps it was +because he was walking with an evident purpose, looking neither to the +right nor left; but she was hardly surprised, only slightly dismayed, as +at a fulfilled presentiment, when the man turned as she expected, and +came straight towards her. + +His hand was on the latch before he saw Meg; then he went to the point +without any preamble. + +"I've come to bring you this," he said. "Will ye take it? It's yours by +rights." + +He was not in the least astonished, as Meg observed, at finding her +there. Barnabas Thorpe possibly did not know how seldom Miss Deane was +out at five in the morning; besides, it took a good deal to move him to +wonder. "The Lord had led her," he supposed, which was sufficient +explanation for anything. + +Meg was rather awe-struck. She felt as if it were highly probable that +this miraculously gifted preacher, who looked like a fisherman, but +spoke with the authority of inspiration, might deliver some supernatural +sign into her keeping. He drew a handkerchief out of his pocket; it was +rolled into a tight ball, and he handed it to her without more ado. She +could feel something cold and hard through the cotton. + +Her slim fingers trembled a little when they struggled with the knot; +then she gave a scream of joyful surprise. + +"Oh! it's father's locket!" she cried. There in her hand lay the +diamond-circled miniature, her mother's face looking out from the midst +of the shimmering stones, with the gentle wistful expression she +remembered of old. + +Meg had thought more of the setting than of the portrait, when it had +lain in her baby hand; but the face had impressed itself on her memory +all the same. Now it seemed to her like a birthday present from both +parents. + +Barnabas Thorpe watched her ecstasies disapprovingly; and when she +lifted her beautiful eyes to his with a "Thank you, with all my heart," +he said gravely:-- + +"You have not me to thank. I was only an instrument, and I'm thinking +such stones as those are bought wi' too high a price." + +"I don't understand you," said Meg. + +In the pause that ensued, the tramp, who had been watching this curious +episode with some interest, thought fit to put in her claim. "You must +have been born with a caul, missy," said she. "For folk who lose +diamonds don't generally get 'em back so easy. Let me just finish your +fortune for you: it will be worth the telling." + +"No, no," said Meg. "It was silly of me. I don't want to hear it now." +She put her hand in her pocket, meaning to pay the woman and get rid of +her; but, alas! it was empty. + +"I'll wait here, honey, and you'll run in and fetch your purse, and then +I'll tell you the rest," coaxed the gipsy, when the preacher interposed, +"What do ye want playing with the devil?" he said. "I can't stand by and +see a maid dabble wi' witchcraft. God has your fortune in His own hand. +Leave it there. It's safe with Him." + +"Oh, ay, you're one of the pious ones!" cried the woman angrily. "Down +on a poor body for picking up a scrap here and there, while you're +pocketing pounds yourself! Where did you get them diamonds from? What'll +she give you for 'em? The pretty lady don't ask where you got 'em, 'cos +for why, you're young and lusty, and she----" + +"Off with you!" said Barnabas. And Meg was rather shocked to see him +take her by the arms and march her down the hill. He did it +good-naturedly enough, however. + +When they reached the bottom, the woman wriggled out of his grasp, and +shook her fist at Meg. + +"Oh, it's all very fine! You may laugh, and welcome; but it's the wrong +side of your mouth you'll laugh with one day," she shouted hoarsely, +though Meg was in truth little inclined to be merry. "You'll leave your +finery behind you. You'll run out of the garden into the highway. And +you'll repent it every day of your life! You'll be cold and hungry and +foot-sore; and you'll wish you were in your grave, and your people will +say, 'She had better not have been born'. They love their name better +than they love you; for there's none so cold-hearted as gentlefolk, and +so you'll find. They will call you a disgrace to ----" + +"That'll do!" said the preacher. "Let the lady be. Cursing is an ill +trade, missus. Which way are ye going?" + +"I've told her her fortune, though she cheated me out of my due," said +the tramp; and she strode off grumbling. She was not half so irate with +the preacher as with the "fine lady," though it had been he who had +practically interfered with her. She could understand Barnabas Thorpe's +forcibly expressed rebukes, but Meg's shilly-shallying she put down to a +mean desire to escape payment. "Gentlefolk were very mean," she +muttered. + +Meg still stood with the diamonds in her hand, when the preacher +returned to the gate. + +She wondered whether she ought to offer him a reward, or whether he +considered himself above that. She wished that she had not got up quite +so early, no one was awake to consult. Barnabas Thorpe shook his head at +her embarrassed suggestion. "No, thank you," he said. "I never take +money for doing the Lord's work; and your trinket there was given me to +ease a poor soul whom Satan had in his clutches. Will ye come with me +and see her? She's sore afflicted, and I doubt it's as much mind as +body." + +"Who is she?" said Meg. + +"I'll tell ye," said the preacher, "if ye'll not set the police on her." +And Meg reddened, and drew herself up. + +"It is not likely I should do that," she said haughtily. "I have not the +least desire to know her name, if she would rather I did not. I only +asked that I might thank her for returning my locket. I value it very +much. Please thank her for me. Good-morning!" + +"Stop!" said the preacher eagerly. "Don't turn away from one ye can +help. I see I've angered ye, but it's not for _me_ ye'll come. I'm not +used to speaking to ladies. Happen I'm a bit rough. I didn't mean to +be. But what can it matter what the messenger is? The message is the +same. This woman asks your forgiveness in Christ's name. You can't +refuse. Come to-morrow she may be gone to where she'll ask your +forgiveness no more. Have ye so few sins of your own that ye can let her +go unforgiven?" + +"Oh, it wasn't _that_," said Meg, who, indeed, felt no difficulty in +pardoning an unknown thief. + +Barnabas opened the gate. + +"It's not above a shortish walk," he said. "You'll come." And Meg +stepped into the road. As the gate shut behind her with a click, she +felt as if she had passed some invisible line, taken some more decisive +step than she knew. The gipsy's prophecy touched the superstitious +strain that was strong in her, but she would not turn back for all that. +"I'll not give in to being afraid," thought she. + +They walked on some way in silence, then Meg paused to take breath, and +smiled in the midst of her earnestness, when she watched her conductor +swinging along up the hill without noticing her defection, his head +being fuller of the penitent he was hurrying to than of his strange +companion. + +Barnabas Thorpe had a tenderness for publicans and sinners, that had +been broadened and deepened by much personal experience; but as for the +rich and educated, his work had not lain in their direction, his warm +human sympathy had had no chance of correcting his narrow theories +there, and it is to be feared he looked upon them all as in very evil +case, remembering always the saying about the rich man and the needle. + +He was singularly illiterate considering his opportunities, for his +father had been a great reader, and had sent or rather driven him to a +good middle-class school. + +He had read and re-read his Bible and the _Pilgrim's Progress_; but +books in general had no charm for him, though the prophets of the Old +Testament impressed him, and probably influenced his style in preaching. +He would tramp miles over down or marsh, hill or dale, to speak a word, +whether in or out of season, to some hesitating convert whom he had +"almost persuaded". He never failed to know when his words had touched, +or, as he would have put it, "when the spirit that spoke through him had +drawn" any one. + +He was a man of passionate temper, as the red tinge in his curly hair +testified; but no mockery could hurt or opposition rebuff him in pursuit +of his calling. All the superabundant vehemence of his nature was thrown +into the fight for his "Master". The preacher was absolutely sincere, +but he was also absolutely certain of his right to deliver his message +when and wherever he felt "called". The sheer force of undoubting +conviction impelled him, and coerced his hearers. Meg had felt that +coercion on the beach; she was to see it again now. + +He remembered her when he had reached the top of the hill, and paused. +"I've been going too fast for ye," he said; "I clean forgot. I am +sorry." + +She noticed the burr in his speech, and the independence of his manner; +but the frank honesty of his face disarmed her. + +Children and women generally trusted the preacher, and she suddenly made +up her mind to throw aside her shyness and talk to him. + +"Why did you say my diamonds were bought with too high a price?" she +asked. + +The preacher turned and looked at her, as if half doubtful of the +sincerity of the question. She expected a tirade on the wickedness of +luxury; and perhaps such a sermon was on the tip of his tongue, but +apparently he checked himself. + +"I havena felt called to preach to the women who live in palaces and are +clothed wi' fine linen," he said. "But I ha' seen ye before, and I +believed the Master had called ye. If so, ye'll learn from Him that ye +_canna_ wear for an ornament what should be bread to the starving. If ye +had seen what I have ye wouldna ha' asked me that." + +"What have you seen?" said Meg; and the colour mounted to Barnabas +Thorpe's high cheek bones, and his blue eyes lit up. + +"I've seen the wicked flourish like a green bay tree," he said, "and I +ha' seen the defenceless trodden down, and the bairns wailing for food. +I ha' seen the rich man who tempts by his sinfu' waste, and the poor man +who is tempted and falls, like the poor lass we are going to now." + +"Where are we going?" asked Meg; "and how did you find her?" + +It was a question that the generality of people would have asked before +they set out. Meg had walked two miles, and her thin shoes were rubbed +and her feet sore, before it occurred to her. + +"Over to River. It's not more nor a mile on," said Barnabas Thorpe. "It +was this way I was brought to her. I had been preaching on the Downs the +other evening. It was getting to dusk, and I was going back to Dover, +when a woman, who had been listening, followed me. 'Can you really cure +diseases?' she asks, coming close behind. I said, 'Ay, if the Lord +willed'. 'My daughter is sick,' she says, 'and I am not one that holds +with doctors; for if a woman's to die she'll die, and if she's to live +she'll live, and it stands to reason they can't do nothing against Them +that's above.' 'And that's true,' I said." + +Meg was startled into a faint exclamation at this wholesale condemnation +of doctors, but he went on unheeding. + +"'But if you come who don't mess about with physics, but just call on +Them,' she said, 'perhaps They'll hear you and cure her.' So I went. I +found the poor thing labouring for breath and sore afflicted, and in +great terror of death, seein' her conscience was laden wi' heavy sin." +He paused. "Ye'll no' be hard on her?" he said pleadingly. + +"No, of course not," said Meg. + +"She was nursery-maid in Mr. Russelthorpe's house sixteen years back. +Her name is Susan Kekewich." + +"I remember her," said Meg, her thoughts flying back to that far-away +time. "She came up to London with us, and cried nearly as much as I did +in the coach. She was quite young, and I think she was pretty. She was +very kind to me." + +"Ay, was she?" said Barnabas. "I could fancy so. She wasn't meant to go +wrong. Poor maid! but there is many one's heart aches for. It seems she +saw her master give you the trinket one night." + +"I know the rest," said Meg; "and she came into my room at night, and +put her hand under my pillow and stole it. I was too frightened to +scream. I thought she was Lazarus." + +"It was not for herself," said Barnabas eagerly. "Her lover was +starving; he'd lost his place; they thought he was one of them that set +fire to the ricks in Hampshire that winter; he was a poor creature, and +afraid to stand a trial, tho' innocent as a baby of that piece of work; +and he hung about in hiding in London, and came and begged at the +kitchen door for scraps, and she had given him all she could, and hadn't +a penny left, and he thought that if he could get beyond the sea, he +might start again and make a home for her. She was anxious to get him +off, and the devil tempted her. She knew the lad was sinking lower, +loafing round, afeart o' the daylight, and wi' no decent place to put +his head in that city of iniquity. She went out meaning to sell the +diamonds, and to give him the price, and afore she was three paces fro' +the door she got a message fro' her lad to say he was in gaol for +stealing a loaf; but she didn't go back to the house. Happen she thought +they'd ha' found her out, and couldn face it. Happen she was a bit +mazed. She just lived on her savings till they were gone; an' ye can +guess the rest. Her lover got the gaol-fever, and made no fight against +it; he was dead within the week. She was afeared to sell your locket +then, and afeared to give it back. She buried it once, and then got a +fancy that the wind 'ud blow the earth away, and the rain 'ud wash it +clear, and couldna keep hersel' fro' the place till she had it up again. +She's a bit out o' her mind about it by now with the constant thinking; +and her mother says as she believes her lover's death turned her queer +for a time, an' she wasn't wholly responsible. She drifted away fro' the +streets, and wandered home i' the end." + +Meg shuddered. "It's a dreadful story," she said. "Too dreadful to think +of." + +"Do ye say so?" said the preacher. "Ay, ye scatter temptation i' the way +o' the poor, ye rich, an' are too soft-hearted to hear tell o' their +fall!" after which they both relapsed into silence. + +The sun was beginning to beat down on their heads, when they reached the +little hamlet of River. + +It consisted of one chalk road, on either side of which were very white +cottages, which had a deceptive air of comfort and prettiness. Pink +china roses clustered against their walls, and low-thatched roofs shone +gold in the morning light. + +The villagers were out in the fields: only one old man, and a baby with +sore eyes and an eruption all over its face, stared open-mouthed at the +oddly matched pair. Barnabas stooped to pass through the doorway of one +of the cottages; and Meg following him would have tumbled down the one +step into the room, if he had not held out his hand to save her. + +She never forgot the sudden plunge out of sunshine into that dark room, +close and hot, and yet with a damp smell about it. + +Labourers' cottages sixty years ago were so bad that one wonders, when +one thinks of them, that the wave of revolution that was passing over +Europe, did not utterly submerge us too! + +Meg stood leaning against the door, watching the preacher; too shy to +venture further. Her eyes dilated, and she turned whiter as she looked. +The damp clay floor, the sickening odour, the room that was bedroom and +sitting-room as well, horrified her. Yet Barnabas had been in many a +worse place, and this was no exceptionally bad case; indeed, it was +decent compared to many a cottage in Kent. But Meg lived before the day +of district visiting, and the world of poverty was a new world to her. + +A woman was lying on a press bed in the farthest corner, her eyes shut. +Meg thought at first that she was dead. Her thin pinched little mother +came hurrying from the inner room to meet them. + +"She's had two more of them spasms since you left," she said to +Barnabas. "I should think the next would about carry her off." She spoke +in a querulous tone, as if the spasms were somehow the preacher's fault, +but her face twitched nervously. She had small features like her +daughter, and black eyes, and spoke with the south-country accent. + +The woman on the bed stirred and then gave a quick choking sound, and +Barnabas was by her side in an instant, supporting her in his arms. It +was literally a fight for life! + +The poor thing's eyes started, and the veins on her forehead swelled; +Barnabas held her up with one arm, and fanned the air towards her mouth +with the other hand. + +"Open the window!" he shouted; but the window was apparently not made to +open. Such a thing had never been done. "Take the poker and break the +pane!" he said; and the woman hesitated. "I can't see as making a +draught is good," she murmured; but Meg obeyed him at once. The green +substance, grimed with dirt, did not break easily, but it gave at last; +and Meg was thankful to turn her back on that awful sight. + +When she looked again, Barnabas was blowing into Susan's lips, pausing +every now and then to ejaculate, "Lord, help me!" The gasping breaths +were getting easier, the grip of the clenched hands was relaxing; +presently the patient fell back exhausted. + +"She's going!" said the mother. "Lord, if I had a drop of brandy left, +it might save her!" + +The preacher covered his face with his hands a second,--he, perhaps, was +a little exhausted too; then he stood upright, and put his hands on her +forehead. + +"Oh merciful Lord, heal her!" he cried. "Pour Thy strength into her! +Pour Thy strength into her! Let it flow through me to her now while I +pray." He repeated the same words again and again at intervals. It +seemed to Meg that his face was as the face of some strong healing +angel, so bright with undoubting faith. + +Presently the patient opened her eyes, looked at him, and smiled. It +might have been an hour that he had stood there. "I've got new life in +me," she said. "I feel it;" and Barnabas fell on his knees. + +"Now, the Lord be thanked," he said, "who has given us the victory over +death, through Christ our Master." And Meg drew a breath of relief; she +had felt as if he had been fighting some tangible enemy, and now the +dreadful presence was routed--she almost fancied she saw it like a black +shadow flee past her, out into the open air. + +The fight was over. + +"My maid," said Barnabas, "God has been good to you. You will not die, +but live, and your sins are forgiven, both by Him and the woman you +stole from: she has come to tell you so." + +Meg came forward quickly and knelt by his side. + +"Oh Susie," she said. "I am so sorry you have been unhappy all these +years! and I would have forgiven you at once if I had only known. Why, I +would lose all I have ten times over rather than that any one should be +so unhappy!" And Susie looked at her with the black eyes that had such +depths of sadness in them. + +"It's Miss Meg! She always was a dear little lady, and so soft-hearted. +I thought if she could understand she wouldn't mind," she said. "And he +was so hungry, it went to my heart to feel him hungry! but God was +against me, and sent him to gaol to punish me, though I would have given +my soul to save him. I was a bad girl, and they punished him for +it--to--to--how was it?--because I stole? They are uncommon hard up +above, but it's just justice, I suppose!" + +Meg took the wasted hands in hers; she could not preach, the problem was +beyond her; but she laid her cheek against Susan's for a moment, and the +preacher said gently, "You see _she's_ not hard, and the Lord who made +her merciful must be more merciful Himself. He's better nor the things +He makes." Then he rose from his knees. "Good-bye," he said simply, "I'd +keep that window open, and let the air in, Mrs. Kekewich. I've often +noticed it's got a deal of healing in it." + +Meg followed him out of the cottage; they were outside when Mrs. +Kekewich regained the use of her tongue, and ran after them to pour out +a volley of thanks to both. Meg blushed. Barnabas Thorpe took off his +hat reverently when she said "God bless you". + +Meg told her aunt exactly what had happened the moment she got home; she +was too proud ever to stoop to petty concealments, but she knew that if +she waited her courage would cool. Uncle Russelthorpe chuckled behind +his newspaper (they were at breakfast) and Aunt Russelthorpe was, not +unnaturally, very wroth. + +"It's high time this sort of thing were stopped," she said. "As for her +not going to balls, or wearing trinkets any more, she _shall_ go!" + +"Meg's much the most amusing of the three," said Uncle Russelthorpe; +"and nothing makes a faith grow like a little persecution." + + + + +CHAPTER V. + + +So Margaret Deane was numbered amongst Barnabas Thorpe's converts; and +of all the inexplicable miracles that the man was said to work, society +counted that the most extraordinary. + +Mrs. Russelthorpe was not a popular woman, and she was too proud to +elicit much sympathy; but, on the whole, public opinion sided with her, +rather than with her niece. + +Barnabas Thorpe was essentially the people's preacher; and even his +greatest admirers felt that it was unbecoming of him "to try and convert +the gentry". + +As a matter of fact he was less presumptuous than they fancied; and, far +from being triumphant, experienced at times a most unusual qualm of pain +at this unexpected result of his teaching. + +Years ago in the days of his boyhood, long before he had, to use his own +phrase, "been taken by religion," he had once plunged his hand into a +spider's web with intent to save a butterfly that got entangled. He had +broken the creature's wing in trying to free it, and the mishap had +stuck in his memory, because both as child and man he had been unusually +pitiful to physical suffering. That bygone episode was fantastically +associated in his mind with Miss Deane. + +There was no doubt to him that but one answer was possible to the "What +shall I do to be saved?" of man or woman cursed by riches. "Leave all +that thou hast" seemed the inevitable prelude to "Follow me". + +He had quoted that reply on the Downs to a group in the midst of which +stood Margaret, in the soft grey dress which was the most quakerish +garment she possessed. + +He had seen her wince at the words as if they startled or hurt her; and +had had a quick feeling of compunction, such as he had experienced when +he had found the butterfly's purple and gold down staining his +over-strong and clumsy fingers. + +No one in after days would have believed it, but it was none the less +true, that Meg's evident sensitiveness rather deterred than encouraged +him in his dealings with her, till an incident, grotesque enough in +itself, changed his attitude, and he felt himself suddenly challenged by +the world through the mouth of a worldly woman. The combative instinct +was thoroughly roused then, and his doubts fled. It was a very small +link in the chain that was to bind his life and Margaret's, but +nevertheless it was a link. + +Barnabas was one day sitting by the roadside carving, when Mrs. +Russelthorpe, coming through the great gates of Ravenshill, saw, and +made up her mind to deliver her opinion to this impertinent preacher. + +Barnabas was chiselling a little chalk head with his pocket knife; he +was intent on his occupation, his hair and beard were powdered with +white dust, and he looked up only now and then to speak to a child who +was eagerly watching him, and for whose benefit the image was being +fashioned. + +Mrs. Russelthorpe deliberately paused in front of him, and studied him +through her gold eyeglass. Meg had never thought about the _man_, she +had seen only the preacher, but the elder woman recognised that this was +no weak opponent or hysterical babbler. + +She lifted her silk skirt--she was never hurried or awkward in her +movements,--and drew out of the pocket that hung round her waist a +sovereign, which she held out to him. + +"We are in your debt," she said, "for the trouble you had in returning +my niece's locket. It was exceedingly honest of you. You had better take +the money, my good fellow;" for the preacher had raised his head with an +expression of utter amazement, which would have confused a less intrepid +woman. "I am sure"--a little patronisingly--"that you quite deserve it." + +"No--thanks," said Barnabas shortly. "In the part I come from we don't +fancy it 'exceedingly honest' not to steal, nor look to be paid for not +being rascals." And he went on with his work. + +"Tut, tut!" said Mrs. Russelthorpe. "You cannot afford to fling away +gold, I am sure." And she dropped the sovereign on to the man's hand. + +The preacher started up as if the coin falling on his brown fingers had +burnt them. + +"Here, ma'am. Please take it back. I thought I'd made it clear, I'll ha' +none o' et," he cried; and there was a ring in his voice, which sounded +as if the "Old Adam" were not quite dead yet. + +"I shall certainly not take it. I do not approve of unpaid services," +said Mrs. Russelthorpe. And Barnabas with a quick movement drew back his +arm, and pitched the sovereign over her head, far away into the park. + +It span through the air like a flash of light, and Mrs. Russelthorpe's +lips compressed as she saw it. + +"That was a most insolent exhibition of temper for one who preaches to +others," she said coldly; but the answer surprised her. + +"Ay, an' that's true; so it was," he said, reddening. + +Mrs. Russelthorpe was not generous enough to take no advantage of her +adversary's slip. + +"Your rudeness to me can only injure yourself," she went on, "and is +certainly not worth remark; but I am glad to have this opportunity of +saying that I believe you to be doing great harm by your preaching. +Religious excitement is always bad, and I have had to remonstrate +seriously with my niece, who is very young and foolish, about the ideas +your unwise words have put into her head. She sees her mistake now," +added Mrs. Russelthorpe, rather prematurely. "But had I not been at hand +to guide her, you might have done an infinity of evil in attempting to +dictate to her about the duties of a position which you cannot in the +least be expected to understand." + +An anxious look came over the preacher's face; his own pride was +forgotten on the instant. + +"Tell me," he said eagerly, "she is surely not turning back?" + +"I do not understand your expression," said Mrs. Russelthorpe; "but Miss +Deane will shortly accompany me to London, and take her part in society +as usual. I am glad to say she recognises the folly of your teaching." + +That last assertion was unfounded; but then, "If it is not true yet, it +shall be," thought Mrs. Russelthorpe, and she couldn't resist a triumph. + +She departed after that, with the last word and the best of the +encounter, well pleased; but if she had known the preacher better she +would not have told him that his disciple was "giving in". + +"She is doing the devil's work, an' the poor maid is over weak," he +reflected, "an' hard beset; an' what shall I do?" + +He took his worn Bible from his pocket and laid it open on the road; +the wind stirred the pages gently, and the man shut his eyes with a +prayer for enlightenment. Then he opened them and picked the book up. He +read in the bright glancing sunlight one sentence: "And He saith unto +him, Cast thy garment about thee and follow Me". + + * * * * * + +Mrs. Russelthorpe and Meg were sitting together in the drawing-room. + +The girl looked ill and nervous. The constant strain of a conflict with +a stronger willed antagonist told on her. She had slept little of late, +she had suffered a veritable martyrdom in the carrying out of Barnabas +Thorpe's principles. + +All at once the blood rushed to her white face. + +"I hear footsteps in the hall," she said. + +"You are going crazy about 'footsteps'!" cried her aunt impatiently, and +then lifted her eyebrows in some surprise. "Some one _is_ coming +upstairs. Who can be calling at this hour?" + +"It is the preacher. They are his footsteps that I've heard coming +nearer all the week," said Meg quietly, and before Mrs. Russelthorpe +could say a word of reproof to this extraordinary statement, Barnabas +Thorpe stood in the doorway. + +"I ask pardon for interrupting you, but I ha' a message for this maid," +he said. "I ha' been told that havin' put your hand to th' plough ye are +in danger o' turning back. Is it true?" + +"The man is mad!" cried Mrs. Russelthorpe, "or he is drunk!" + +She stood upright, putting her frame aside without haste or flurry. She +had never felt fear in her life, though her indignation was strong. + +"Go at once, sir!" she said. + +"Is it true?" said the preacher. + +His eyes were fixed on Meg. He was too eager to be self-conscious. In +the intensity of his effort to arrest and turn again a wavering soul, he +did not even hear Mrs. Russelthorpe; and for a moment his absorption, +his utter imperviousness to all that was "outside" his mission, +impressed even her. + +The preacher was as "one-ideaed" as a sleuth hound in pursuit of his +quarry. The simile is not a pretty one, but it flashed across her mind, +when her command fell futile and powerless. + +"Is it true?" Then, while Meg, who had been sitting with dilated eyes +staring at him, covered her face with her hands, his voice melted into +entreaty. + +"Perhaps it is so," he said. "But the Master is full of pity. Still He +says 'Come'. He knows our backslidings. He bears wi' us again and again, +as a mother wi' a bairn who stumbles running to her. His feet bear the +bruises o' the stones by the way," cried Barnabas. And again, as on the +beach, his blue eyes had the expression of eyes that _see_ that of which +they speak. "An' ye shall not be afeard o' th' path they trod! His hands +are marked wi' th' nails o' Calvary, an' by those marks they shall lead +us men, who are feeble and sore discouraged. Behold, I _know_"--and his +voice rang through the room, making Meg wonder whimsically in the midst +of her excitement whether the very chairs and tables were not startled +in their spindle-legged propriety--"Behold, I know that it is sweeter to +walk wi' Him through th' valley o' death, than to walk wi'out Him +through th' sunshine o' the World." + +"My good man," said Mrs. Russelthorpe, "whatever may be the case in 'the +valley of death,' you are very much out of place in my drawing-room. We +have had enough." + +She pointed to the door while she spoke. + +Outside in the road the man had had the worst of it when he had crossed +swords with her; here, strangely enough, she had no more effect on him +than a child's breath against a boat in full sail. + +He was acting under authority now. He believed himself as much bound to +testify as ever Moses before the Egyptian king. + +"My Master has called this maid," he said; "who is it bids you hinder? +Promise," and he turned again to Meg, "that ye will follow Him to the +giving up of all He disallows. Promise! an' I will go my way in peace." + +Meg let her hands drop on her lap, and looked at him with the saddest +smile he had ever seen. The pathos of it touched the man as well as the +apostle, though he wasn't himself aware of that fact; and his innermost +thought of her was free from any taint of self-consciousness. + +"I will promise nothing," she said; "I should only fail." + +Her low voice sounded weary and dispirited, the very antithesis of his. +This time she said to herself she would not let herself go. + +His enthusiasm might carry her a little way by its own strength, but she +knew what the end would be. This narrowly strong preacher, with his +northern burr, his gesticulations, his intense conviction, came, after +all, from another world. She envied his assurance, she admired his +courage, but he could not "help her". + +"I may be miserable, and know I am wrong, and yet give way at last, +unless something happens," said Meg. The "something" meant support from +her father. Then she was ashamed of her own words. + +"I will try--but I won't promise," she said wistfully. + +There was a tense silence. "I have a message for ye, an' I canna +understand it," said Barnabas at last, "but the Lord will make it clear. +Listen, these are the words, _And the angel said unto him, Cast thy +garment about thee and follow Me._" + +"The man is raving!" exclaimed Mrs. Russelthorpe. And she put her hand +on the bell; but he had already turned to go. + +He would add no words of his own to the inspired "mandate"; and he +walked out of the room and out of the house unmolested, as he had come. + +Mrs. Russelthorpe drew a deep breath, that was not so much of relief as +of utter astonishment. + +"I do not know why I allowed him to go on so long. He is the most +extraordinary person I have ever set eyes on! Upon my word, I believe he +has walked straight out of Bedlam; but, mad or sane, this is beyond a +joke. Margaret! if you so much as look at him again, I'll wash my hands +of you. I'll make an end to this." + +"Will you?" said Meg dreamily. She did not speak in defiance, only +doubtfully, with a vague sense that Barnabas Thorpe's especial +Providence might be too strong even for Aunt Russelthorpe. Had he not +said his say in spite of her? + +"Will you, Aunt Russelthorpe? But I don't think one has really much to +do with what happens." + +"I've something to do with it," said Aunt Russelthorpe grimly; "and so +he will find." And so indeed he did find,--though not in the way she +meant. + + * * * * * + +Another and widely different acquaintance was at least as deeply +interested in the change in her. Mr. Sauls was the very last person +whom any one would have expected to champion an impracticable +enthusiasm; yet he certainly stood up for Margaret at this time, to her +immense surprise and rather perplexed gratitude. + +This slip of a girl, who shrank from the least touch of love-making, but +yet loved and hated so vehemently, who was more innocent than any other +woman he had ever known, and who yet did such terribly rash things, who +was full of shy dignity and sudden indiscreet revelations, was the first +person who had inspired him with any awe of womanhood. + +He laughed at himself a good deal, but thought of her, whom most people +sneered at, with a sort of half-amused reverence. If in the first place +he had been in love with Meg's good name and prospective fortune, his +love for Meg's self was striking deeper roots than he should +consistently have allowed; but we all of us fail to stick to our +principles at times. + +When the first faint rumour of a scandal reached him, Mr. Sauls went +straight to Ravenshill to call. + +He met Mr. Russelthorpe in the hall, and stopped to speak to him, being +on very friendly terms with the old man, whose society he had cultivated +of late. + +"It is so long since I have met your niece anywhere, that I have come to +inquire after her health," he said boldly. + +"Hm! she has 'repented' and taken to religion, as I have no doubt you +have heard," said the other; he held on to the banisters with one +shrivelled hand, and peered up into George Sauls' strong dark face to +see how his announcement was taken. + +"Repented! but she was always a little saint!" cried Mr. Sauls. + +"Ah! that's it," responded Meg's uncle. "It is the saints who repent; +the sinners have other things to do." + +Mr. Sauls stood twisting the cord of his eyeglass rapidly round his +finger: he had a trick of apparently absorbing himself in some physical +detail of the sort when he was more than usually interested. + +"I want to be converted," he remarked. "Do you think that she would +undertake me?" + +Mr. Russelthorpe chuckled. This young Jew, with his keen eye to the main +chance, always entertained him. + +"There's no knowing. Young women are very hopeful," he said. "Go on--go +on and try." + +Mr. Sauls went on into the drawing-room. + +A buzz of conversation greeted him. Mrs. Russelthorpe was entertaining +about twenty ladies; Meg was standing apart in the bow window. + +Mr. Sauls joined in the talk at once; he made smart speeches to his +hostess, and conversed with every one: he was never in the least shy. + +Presently some one mentioned the ball that was to be given at the +Heights. "You are going, of course?" she said. + +The question sounded innocent enough, but it sent a thrill through the +atmosphere. + +Mrs. Russelthorpe made a distinct pause, and then said, in clear +decisive tones: "My niece sets all her elders to rights on that subject. +You had better explain why we are not to go, Margaret; for your views +are beyond me." + +Mr. Sauls glanced at the girl's white face, and swore under his breath. +"I'd like to duck Mrs. Russelthorpe," he said to himself; and then he +threw down his glove, to the general astonishment. + +"If Miss Deane does not choose to give us the pleasure of her company, +it is so much the worse for us," he said. "But society would become +unbearable if it were allowed to demand explanations each time any one +stayed away from an entertainment. I can't see why we should bother Miss +Deane with impertinent questions, and I protest against them on +principle. They encroach on the sacred rights of the individual." + +He had diverted attention from Meg anyhow. What did it matter what +rhodomontade he was talking? It was curious how that little nervous +shudder of hers affected him; it had seemed to run like fire through his +veins. How durst they distress her? prying closely into the secrets of +her sensitive conscience, frightening her (for he could see that she was +frightened) by their irreverent curiosity. Reverence was not a quality +that any one had suspected in him heretofore, but Meg had awakened it. + +He did not quite know her, however, in spite of his sympathy: she was +thin-skinned enough in all conscience; but she was something else as +well. She lifted her head and faced Mrs. Russelthorpe: she was not going +to take shelter behind Mr. Sauls, though she was grateful to him. + +"I have explained to you over and over again," she said. "I don't go to +balls because I don't think I ought. I like them so much I forget +everything else when I do. I don't know about other people, I daresay +that they are perfectly right to go." + +Mrs. Russelthorpe laughed. + +"Other people are on a lower level of sanctity evidently," she said. +"Come! We are all of us waiting to be enlightened. Where does the +iniquity lie? You of the young generation are wonderfully quick at +seeing evil--where is it?" + +George twirled his eyeglass furiously. + +"Don't answer!" he cried, with assumed jocosity. "Miss Deane, your +counsel advises you not to--this is a bad precedent--against all +fairness." + +Meg flushed painfully, there were tears in her eyes. + +"In me, I suppose," she said softly, and left the room. + +Mr. Sauls took up his hat. + +"I think we ought all to feel pretty well ashamed of ourselves after +that," he remarked; and he went out, shutting the door sharply after +him. + +He had burnt his boats, and he knew it. He had made an enemy, and forced +his own hand; he had rebuked Mrs. Russelthorpe in her own drawing-room, +and closed the Ravenshill gates against himself; and he shrugged his +shoulders at his own rashness as he went downstairs. Meg was by no means +won yet, and he had been bolder than he could well afford. + +"I never guessed I was such a fool," he said to himself; and then he +smiled in spite of his cooler after-thoughts. + +"If, after all, my luck holds good, and I do get her, and I _will_," he +reflected, "won't I make that aunt of hers feel the difference? I should +like to see the woman who will bully my wife. I should like it +immensely." + +His sympathy for his shy lady was very genuine, but he felt a thrill of +exhilaration all the same. Mrs. Russelthorpe's anger, the growing +gossip, this very "religious mania," were all playing into his +hands--they would drive the girl nearer to him. + +He meant to be very patient; it was only once in a blue moon that his +feelings got the better of him; he would wait, and watch; and when Meg's +position became unbearable, he would step in and say, "Here am I! With +me you shall do as you choose. Follow your very exacting conscience +where you like; dip your pretty fingers into my purse, and dress in +sackcloth if it pleases you." He would not bully Meg. She was none the +worse for a touch of asceticism in his eyes. + +Like many men who believe in little themselves, he held that the more +beliefs a woman has the better--and the safer. + +Let her be as saint-like as she chose; if he was of the earth (as he +candidly allowed he was) his wife should be of heaven, a thing apart, +set in a costly shrine which he would delight in decorating. + +Her religion was a fitting ornament, a halo round her fair head! Far be +it from him to wish to discrown her. + +Women's pretty superstitions became them even better than their +diamonds--he would grudge Meg neither. + +He went to the ball at the Heights three weeks later, and found, as he +had expected, that Mrs. Russelthorpe cut him, that Miss Deane was not +present, and that Miss Deane's name was overmuch in people's mouths. + +One little bit of innuendo, which he happened to overhear, made his +blood boil, in spite of his conviction that it was unfounded. + +Miss Deane in love with a canting tub-preacher! Miss Deane, who was only +too fastidious! If Mr. Sauls' idea of a woman's position had just a +tinge of Orientalism about it, at least his respect for Meg was true +enough for him to be sure that that scandal was absurd on the face of +it. But it showed how her innocence needed protection. + +Poor Meg! He would have shielded her from every rough breath, yet the +winds of heaven were to blow harder on her than on him; he would have +lined her path with velvet, but for her the road was to be stony indeed. +"Give our beloved peace and happiness," we pray--but they are given +pain, and the stress of the battle. "Deliver them from evil"--but they +fall. + +"I will write soon, very soon," George Sauls decided, as he left the hot +ball-room behind him, and walked towards the twinkling town, with the +sound of the dance ringing in his ears. + +He had actually rather a longing to turn up the road to Ravenshill, +where Mrs. Russelthorpe's carriage was disappearing, and take a look at +the shell which held his pearl; but a sense of the ridiculous withheld +him, or, perhaps, the bad luck that dogged his footsteps where his love +was concerned. + +If he had followed his impulse, the upshot of that night's events might +have been different. + +If Meg had married him, he would have loved her long and well, for his +was a grasp that never loosened easily; but for once in his life, George +gave more than he received, and he certainly did not count the +experience blessed. + +The three weeks that had followed that scene in the drawing-room had +been trying ones at Ravenshill. Meg's courage was of the kind that can +lead a forlorn hope, but finds it very difficult to sustain a siege. + +Poor child! it was hard enough that the first avowedly religious man she +had met should be also a bit of a fanatic. + +That our consciences have so little judgment is surely one of the oddest +things in this queer world! + +Martyrs go to the stake for false gods, as well as for the truth; men +die heroically for mistakes, loyal to blundering leaders; and what is +the end of it all, we ask? Is it a farce or a tragedy? or does the +loyalty live somehow, though the error wither as chaff that has held the +grain? + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + + +Uncle Russelthorpe sat alone in his library on the evening of the ball: +the habit of shuffling out of family gatherings had grown on him, his +queer slip-shod figure was seldom seen beyond its own precincts now. His +distaste for his wife increased with increasing age, and her loud voice +and rather aggressive strength jarred more on him. + +Perhaps, after all, Meg's was not the saddest tragedy in that house; for +it is better to burn than to rot, and it is doubtful whether the +over-hasty actors who bring grief on themselves, and other people, in +their attempts to make the world turn round the other way, do half the +harm of the easy-going philosophers, who sit with their talents in +napkins, and say, "Let be! why struggle against the inevitable?" +Stagnant water is not a healthy feature in the landscape at any time. + +It was late in the evening, the soft air came in at the window laden +with dew, as well as with sweetness. The old man got up to close the +shutters; he had a morbid dislike to intrusion, and the servants did not +dare invade his sanctum. He lit his lamp, and fell back into the depths +of his armchair with a sigh of relief, because that small effort was +accomplished. He had grown weaker lately, though no one had noticed it. +He no longer studied with the avidity of old, but sat often, as he sat +to-night, with his hands on his knees, peering into the fire. Perhaps +he saw shadows of the past there--ghosts of possibilities that were +never realities, saddest of all ghosts are these "might-have-beens," +pale phantoms that have never known life. He had started with rather +more than the average share of brains and money, and come to the +conclusion, now that his days were few and evil, that the game had +hardly been worth playing, sorry fun at the best! Presently some one +spoke behind him, and he frowned irritably. + +"Who is it?" he asked rather crossly. "I'm busy. What do you want in +here?" + +"It is I--Margaret!" said a voice with a suspicion of tremor in it; and +his niece walked round his chair, and after a moment's hesitation, sat +down on a high-backed seat opposite him. + +Uncle Russelthorpe straightened himself with a jerk. This was a most +unprecedented visit, and his curiosity overcame his annoyance. Meg had +hardly been in his study since the days when she had haunted it as a +child. What could she want? It was not a house where the young ones ever +intruded unnecessarily on their elders' leisure; and Mr. Russelthorpe, +though he had a secret partiality for his youngest niece, did not +consider her any "affair of his". His wife managed the girls, and "very +funnily too," he sometimes thought. + +Meg sat pressing her fingers together and looking straight at him. She +had not taken this unusual step without a pretty strong motive. + +"Uncle," she said, "I want advice! You used to be very kind to me when I +was a little girl. Will you give it to me, please?" + +"Eh? What?" said her uncle. "You'd better go to----" he was about to say +"your aunt," but feeling that that counsel was rather a cruel mockery, +seeing that Meg's relations with Mrs. Russelthorpe were more than +usually strained just then, ended, "to your father for it." + +"Yes, but I don't know how," said Meg; "he is somewhere in Greece, I +suppose." + +"Hm--wise man!" said Uncle Russelthorpe. "I don't, as a rule, think much +of Charles' worldly wisdom; but that way he has of going off, without +leaving an address, has always struck me as admirable; it secures such +absolute immunity from worries." + +"I suppose I am one of the worries," said Meg, with a smile that was +more sad than merry. "Since I can't bother him, I'm worrying you!" + +"Not at all!" said the old gentleman politely; but he drew his watch out +of its fob and fidgeted. + +"You see there is no one else," said Meg apologetically. "Uncle +Russelthorpe, I mean to go away. I _can't_ stay here any longer. Father +promised me that he would write soon, and perhaps send for me. He has +been gone nearly two months, and I have not heard from him. +Perhaps,"--with her ungovernable desire to shift the blame from his +shoulders--"perhaps, he is ill, or he may have sent a message that has +not been given to me. Anyhow, I can't--oh I can't--wait much longer." + +"Tut, tut!" interrupted Mr. Russelthorpe. "You are young and impatient. +When you are my age, you will not say 'can' and 'can't' so easily. There +are few things we can't endure, hardly any I should say; and our skins +become toughened with age, fortunately, and our hearts colder, also most +fortunately." + +Meg shivered involuntarily. + +"But I haven't begun to be old yet!" she cried. "That doesn't help me!" + +The old man looked at her uneasily; he had something of the feeling that +one of the audience of a play might have, if suddenly appealed to by an +actor: he hated being dragged out of his safe place as spectator, and +being asked for practical advice. + +"I think the sort of life we lead is all wrong from beginning to end," +said this inconvenient niece; and the corners of Mr. Russelthorpe's lips +twitched a little, he was genuinely sorry for her unhappiness, but her +revolutionary sentiments amused him. + +"Father really thinks so too. I have never forgotten something he said +when I was a child, about Dives preaching contentment to the starving +across an over-loaded table." + +Uncle Russelthorpe took snuff and shook his head. + +"My dear young lady, don't you begin to talk cheap Chartist cant," he +said. "One Whig in the family is enough, and Charles' harangues don't +sound so well at second-hand; it is his voice and manner that makes any +nonsense he chooses to spout go down; besides, he would be considerably +deranged, I fancy, if you were to take upon yourself to put all his +theories into practice; that's a very pernicious habit that you've +contracted--not inherited--I doubt its being so pleasing to him as you +imagine." + +"But that's worse than anything, and I won't believe you!" cried Meg, +with a passion that actually startled him. "Uncle, it makes me feel +miserable when you say that; as if father were not ever in earnest! Aunt +Russelthorpe tells me that too! She says he never really meant me to +live with him, and that I'd taken everything too seriously. It isn't +true. I want to go to him, and to hear him say it isn't true. Will you +help me? I believe Aunt Russelthorpe knows where he is. Will you make +her tell you? Will you give me the money, and send some one with me if I +mustn't travel alone? I won't run away. It isn't wrong to want to go to +my own father," cried poor Meg, with a rather pathetic pride. "I'll do +it openly. My aunt will be angry, but he will understand. I am his +child, and he always says I am to come to him in any difficulty. I know +that he will be glad!" + +There was a confidence in her tone, that made Mr. Russelthorpe wonder +for a moment what sort of a man he would have been, if he had had a +child with such unlimited faith in him. Really, it was a pity Charles +didn't do more to justify it; and that reflection gave rise to another. + +"It seems to me," he said, "that a more interesting and younger admirer +than your old uncle would be charmed to point an obvious way out of your +difficulties. There was a young sprig here the other day; it struck me +that his interest in my coins had shot up rather suddenly, like Jack's +bean-stalk. I shouldn't wonder if it withered when it's served its turn, +eh? My old eyes are not so sharp as they were, but I'm not in my dotage +yet. I don't see how I can interfere, my dear; but if you are anxious to +leave us,--why, there's the church door conveniently near. Laura and +Kate got out by it. I've no doubt the escort to Greece could be provided +too." + +"You mean Mr. Sauls," said Meg, with a calmness which boded ill for that +gentleman's hopes. "I don't think he would be so silly; but, anyhow, I +should hate a husband who let me believe what I liked, and do as I +thought right because 'it didn't matter'. Mr. Sauls has been rather kind +to me. I don't want my gratitude spoilt by that kind of nonsense; +_please_." The last words were a protest against Mr. Russelthorpe's +characteristic chuckle. Meg had an impatience of any approach to +love-making, that was more boyish than girlish; and the least attempt at +sentiment was enough to chill her rather doubtful liking for her +father's quondam _protégé_. + +"I really am in earnest!" she cried. "Don't laugh at me! Aunt +Russelthorpe has been saying things I cannot repeat: she says other +people say them too. I think," lifting her head proudly, "that they +should all be ashamed of themselves, and I don't care in the very +least--but"--with a sudden illogical break-down--"I _must_ go away! No +one will miss me, you see,--it isn't as if this were home, or as if I +were any good to any one, or had any real place. It seems a waste of +life to stay and make her angry, and fight every day because I don't any +longer do the things she does. Besides," added Meg despairingly, "I +don't know how to go on struggling for ever. Aunt Russelthorpe rather +likes it, I believe, but I don't. Uncle, I'm so terribly afraid of +giving in, and doing everything she wants, and feeling a shameful coward +all the rest of my life." + +"Dear, dear!" said Mr. Russelthorpe. "'The rest of life!' and, 'for ever +and ever!' Eh! how tragic we are at twenty, to be sure!" But again he +felt uneasy. The girl _was_ unhappy. He knew she must have been hard +pressed before she took the initiative and appealed to him--also there +was no doubt that tongues were wagging too fast about her. + +He sometimes shrewdly suspected that Augusta wouldn't be sorry to drive +her niece into any decently good marriage; and he knew that the one plan +her heart was set against was this of Meg's keeping house for Mr. Deane. +Why were women such fools? Why, above all, did Meg bother him? He had +given up contention on his own account so long ago. Yet it would be good +for the poor child to get away; and if Charles understood how matters +were, he would be indignant enough. Charles had plenty of spirit, +though a baby could hoodwink him. Should he interpose for once, and tell +his wife that---- + +"Margaret!" said a voice behind them. They both started like guilty +conspirators; but Meg recovered herself in a second, and stood upright, +white and defiant. + +Mrs. Russelthorpe was in the doorway dressed for a ball, as she had been +long ago when she and Meg had had their first pitched battle. She had an +open letter in her hand, and a smile on her lips. + +"I have been looking for you. What are you doing in here, I wonder?" +said she. "Here is an answer from your father, Margaret; and now I hope +you are satisfied." + +Meg held out her hand without a word. Mrs. Russelthorpe gave her the +letter over Mr. Russelthorpe's head, who peered up out of his deep +armchair. "'So they two crossed swords without more ado,'" he quoted to +himself. + +Margaret read the letter all through before she spoke. A few months +earlier she would have protested at her aunt's having broken the seal, +and mastered the contents; now, rightly or wrongly, she felt that the +issue of this contest was too serious for her to waste strength in +resenting small grievances. + +Mrs. Russelthorpe noted the change. Margaret was not quite so +contemptible an adversary as she had been: she was growing more womanly. + +Meg turned to her uncle when she had finished reading, as to a supreme +court of appeal. + +"If father had ever got my letter," she said, "he would not have written +like this. Please judge for yourself, uncle." + +"Charles' hand tries my eyes," murmured Mr. Russelthorpe fretfully. + +"Then I will read it aloud," said Meg; and her aunt raised her eyebrows +and laughed, but not very mirthfully. + +"Margaret is determined on having a scene!" + +The first part of the letter was all about the place Mr. Deane was +staying in, and the people he was meeting. It was illustrated with +pen-and-ink sketches, and was charmingly descriptive and good-naturedly +witty. Then came a tender half-playful recommendation to his daughter +not to addle her brains with overmuch thinking. + + "Your aunt actually tells me that she can't persuade my Peg-top to + spin any more!" he wrote. "Of course I only wish you to follow your + own conscience, dearest; but don't, even for heaven's sake, turn + into a severe old maid, or get crow's-feet and wrinkles before I + come home again. I couldn't forgive you! As for that delightful + plan which we concocted last time I was at Ravenshill, I fear, on + thinking it over, that it is impossible to carry it out,--at least, + for the next few years. There are many objections to it, which I + lost sight of before; and I believe, that, after all, you are + better and happier in your uncle's house, than you would be + wandering about with me. Your aunt always writes most kindly of + you. It is a long time since I have heard from you. + + "Your very affectionate father, + + "CHARLES DEANE." + +"That is all," said Meg; "and," looking at her aunt, "I am not in the +least satisfied;" and then, with a sudden impulsive movement, she knelt +down by the old man's chair, and the loose sheets of that rather +unsatisfactory epistle floated aimlessly to the floor. + +"Father is so far away, and nothing I do or say seems to reach him," she +cried; and there were tears in her voice now. "Uncle, I am desperate! +_Do_ help me!" + +Mr. Russelthorpe glanced nervously from her to his wife. + +"Upon my word, Augusta," he began, when Mrs. Russelthorpe interrupted, +her louder voice drowning his, as her quick decision mastered his slow +championship. + +"We've had enough theatricals!" she said. "Get up, Margaret, you are +spoiling your dress and wasting your uncle's time, and mine too," with a +glance at the clock. But Meg's eyes were still fixed on Uncle +Russelthorpe; he had been kind to her when she was a child, and she had +always consequently (though illogically) believed in him. Surely, surely +he would take her part now. + +He fidgeted, shifting his position as if to turn from her eager, +pleading face. It was hard on him to be called so suddenly to espouse a +side,--on him, who liked to smile at the fallibility of all causes. +Prompt action, too, was almost impossible at seventy, when at sixty he +had let the reins drop. Yes! it was hard on him, though Meg in her +passionate youth couldn't see that. + +"I--I don't see what you come to _me_ for," he said feebly. "You are so +violent, Meg. Nothing is probably so bad as you imagine, you know; and, +if you wait long enough, grievances burn themselves out, like everything +else. You may be mistaken too, and fancy--fancy----" + +"Yes--I was mistaken," said Meg slowly. She had risen from her knees +while the old man mumbled on; the eagerness had died out of her face and +left it rather scornful. "I did fancy you would help me, but I shall not +fancy it again. I was foolish to trouble you, uncle. I am sorry. I never +will any more." + +She went out of the library, holding her fair head very high, and +without looking at either uncle or aunt; but when she got to her own +room she threw herself down on her bed and sobbed, all her dignity +vanishing. + +"Oh father, father, I do so want you! I can't be good all alone!" she +cried. "Why aren't you ever here?" + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + + I am too weak to live by half my conscience, + I have no wit to weigh and choose the mean. + Life is too short for logic; what I do, + I must do simply; God alone shall judge, + For God alone shall guide, and God's elect. + + --_The Saint's Tragedy._ + + +The events of that evening followed on each other so quickly that it +seemed to Meg afterwards as if she had been impelled by some power +outside herself, though whether of Heaven or hell she doubted later in +life. + +She heard the crunch of gravel under the carriage wheels, as her aunt +drove away to the ball over which they had had such contention; then she +dried her eyes and drew a breath of relief. + +Meg always felt happier when Mrs. Russelthorpe was out of the house; and +her antipathy was the more painful because she blamed herself for it. It +was wicked to hate any one. Unfortunately, naming the devil doesn't +always exorcise him! + +One thing at least was clear to the girl,--it was impossible to go on +"for the next few years" as they had been going on lately; and that +lightly written sentence of Mr. Deane's stung her almost into despair. + +Then she remembered that at least she had his address now, and could +send the letters that Aunt Russelthorpe had refused to forward, and in +which she had poured out all her difficulties, and asked his decision on +them, as if he had been confessor as well as father. Meg looked upon +that refusal as a piece of gratuitous and incomprehensible cruelty; but +then, in spite of Laura's plain speaking, she never quite understood +Mrs. Russelthorpe. She might have abjured gaieties if she had only +refrained from claiming her father's sympathy and counsel in her +temporary insanity; though even if she had fully recognised that fact, +it is doubtful whether she would have sold her birthright. She threw it +away instead, which, to some temperaments, is easier than selling. + +Balls were early in those days, and it was only eight o'clock, when, +with her letter in her hand, she started for the Dover post-office. + +It was a long lonely walk; and an older woman than Meg might have +thought twice about it, but the girl was too ignorant of evil to be +afraid. + +She had scruples about asking a servant of her aunt's to accompany her, +but she had no doubt that she was justified in her own action. + +Her father had told her to write to him,--that was reason enough, and to +do anything was a relief to her. + +Meg's strength and weakness both rose from the same source: she could be +unhesitatingly daring for the person she loved, but if that support +should fail, would slip into confusion and despair. Even now there was a +leaven of bitterness working in her, a terror that was making her +restless. Were Aunt Russelthorpe and Laura right? Did "father" not +"care" much after all? + +She turned instinctively from that suggestion, and tried to fix her mind +on the topics that had lately filled it. As she took the short cut over +the cliffs, and walked quickly along the footway that skirts their edge, +she thought of that still narrower path which Barnabas Thorpe had +pointed out as the only way of salvation. + +The sky still glowed behind Dover Castle, though the sun had +disappeared; there was hardly a breath of wind to stir the short crisp +grass, the broad downs lay still and peaceful in the gathering dusk: Meg +was the only human being to be seen, but the little brown rabbits +scurried by, and peeped at her from a safe distance, making her smile in +spite of her sadness. She was as easily moved to smiles as she was to +sighs. + +It had been a hot summer, and there were ominous cracks across the +footway, which had been deserted of late. Meg, who was Kentish born, +ought to have known what those fissures and gaps meant. Perhaps the +rabbits would have warned her if they could; for one of them loosened a +morsel of chalk as he leaped, which bounded and rebounded down the side +of the cliff. She watched it idly, not considering the signification. + +Earlier in the day there had been a heavy thunderstorm, which was +growling still in the far distance. Meg lingered a moment, listening to +the echo among the chalk caves below,--smuggling haunts, where many a +keg of brandy had been hidden. + +If she had not paused, her light footsteps would have carried her safely +over the dangerous bit. As it was, the "crack" she had just stepped +carelessly over suddenly widened to a chasm, the earth seemed to give +way under her; she stretched out her arms with a wild cry, and +fell,--fell, with a vision of clouds of white powder and flashing +lights, stopping at last, with a sharp jarring shock, to find herself +grasping desperately at something steady, just above her, in a reeling +tumbling world! She lay on her side on a narrow ledge a quarter of the +way down the cliff, her right shoulder and arm bruised by the fall; but +she was hardly conscious of pain, her mind being set on clinging fast to +the friendly poppy root that was keeping her from death. + +She could hear the sea washing hungrily, with a sullen break, and a +strong backward suck, many feet below; she shuddered, and then screamed +with all her might, again and again, waking the echoes and the seagulls, +who answered her derisively. + +She was in terror lest her fingers should relax their hold, in spite of +her will. She lost count of time, and began to feel as if she had lain +for ages between earth and sky. + +Her left arm was getting numb, and her brain dizzy; she was dreadfully +afraid of losing consciousness, and tried hard to keep possession of +"herself," knowing that if she fainted she would slip down at once, and +the green water would roll her over and draw her back. + +"Like a cat with a mouse," thought Meg. Her reflections were getting +indistinct, and she gathered her strength together to scream once more. +A horror of losing her identity, of being swamped in a "black +nothingness," was strong on her. + +"Help me!" she cried, with an effort to make the words articulate, that +was followed by a vague recollection that she had asked some one to +"help her" once before, but he never did or never could. + +She couldn't quite remember how it was: her past life seemed to have got +far away, to have dropped off her, leaving her soul all alone, face to +face with this black empty space that was trying to engulf it. + +"There isn't any help," she said to herself. "It's all really like the +sea, or cats and mice, and my fingers don't seem to belong to me any +more," and then---- + +"Hold on!" said a voice above her. "Don't move, I'll run for a rope." + +She opened her eyes and tried to collect her wits. + +"I can't hold on more than a minute more," she said a little +indistinctly. "If you go I shall fall." While she spoke the root she was +clinging to "gave" a little, and a light shower of chalk fell on her +face. + +"I'm falling! oh be quick!" she cried; and the next moment something +blue dangled above her face. + +"Let go those leaves, and catch hold of my jersey. I'll pull ye up by +it," shouted the voice, the owner of which had flung himself full length +on the cliff, his face and arms over the edge. + +"Do it at once!" He called, this time as peremptorily as he could, for +he was in momentary terror lest yellow poppy and girl should go together +to the bottom. + +To his relief she obeyed him. + +"Both hands!" he cried encouragingly. "I can't pull you up by one." + +"I can't move my right arm," she answered. "It's twisted somehow;" and +he whistled in dismay. + +Meg was as white as the chalk, but she showed some courage now that help +was at hand, and she managed to pull herself into a sitting posture, +holding tight to his jersey. Further than that he couldn't get her, and +he did not dare to leave her lest she should turn giddy. + +"I tell you what," he said at last. "There is only one way; I can't pull +ye up, an' I doan't risk leaving ye on that narrow bit: ye must e'en +come down to me. If I drop over the face o' the cliff there's a foothold +close beside ye, now that you're sitting up, and a drop below that +again, there's a broader ledge and a cave. Ye'll be safe enough there. +Will 'ee try? but we must, for there's naught else to be done. Can ye +let go my jersey and sit quite still one minute? Doan't 'ee look, lass, +shut your eyes and put your hands down each side." + +Meg nodded and held her breath. She felt him alight at her side, and +then heard him shout from below. + +"All right! There's room enough here," he cried. "Edge along sideways as +far as ye can to the right. Don't be scared, ye won't fall! It's quite +possible." + +He spoke with assurance, and his confident tone gave her courage as he +intended it should; but, nevertheless, his own pulses were beating +rather fast, albeit his nerves were good as a rule. + +Would the girl do it, or would she slip before he could catch her? She +was directly over him at last. "Now," he said, "your foot almost touches +my shoulder. Ay--that's it, put your weight on it and--ah! that's right. +Thank God!" He held her in his arms now, and the next moment she was +safe at his side. + +Meg leant against the entrance of the cave, half laughing and half +crying. + +She was not in the least surprised to see that it was the preacher who +had saved her, but the absurdity of the situation struck her with a +sudden reaction. + +The cave was dark, and very damp and ill-smelling; the ledge was just +wide enough for them to stand quite safely on it. They were perched like +two big birds on the face of the cliff, with a sheer descent that not +even Barnabas could have swarmed down, below them. + +"Yes, yes!" she gasped in answer to his ejaculation of thankfulness. +"But--we shall never, never get up again!" + +The preacher made no reply directly. Possibly the same idea had occurred +to him. + +She sat down in the entrance of the cave, and he tied up her bruised arm +as well as he could, improvising a sling with the lace scarf she wore +round her neck. + +Fortunately, no bones were broken; and she assured him with a smile that +he "hardly hurt her at all," though the muscles had been badly strained +and her arm was still quite useless. He looked at her doubtfully, but +could hardly gather from her face how much or how little she was +suffering. He was not accustomed to women of Meg's class, and was sorely +puzzled as to what he had best do next. + +"Look here!" he said at last. "It's not possible that ye should spend +the night in this wet hole; ye'd be fairly starved wi' cold, and no +one's likely to come by before morning. I'll climb up somehow and run to +the coastguard for help. Ye won't be scared here, eh?" + +He bent down and put his jersey between her and the wall of the cave. + +"It's been an Irish way of helping ye up!" + +Meg looked at him. Her face was very pale, but she had quite recovered +her self-command now. + +"Don't go," she said. "You might so easily be killed trying to climb in +the dark. It is dark. I can hardly see the sea now. It would be my fault +if you were to fall, and really I don't think I am worth it." + +"If I am to die it 'ull happen the same whatever I do, an' if not, I'll +be as safe as if I were in my bed," said Barnabas Thorpe. "But I doan't +fancy ye need be scared, for I believe neither you nor I ha' come to an +end o' things yet. It has been on my mind that I'd see ye again." + +He turned, and began to swarm up the cliff as he spoke; and Meg stopped +her ears, for the sound of the crumbling chalk sickened her, and waited +in the dark. + +The preacher shouted cheerfully when he scrambled to his feet at the +top; and then, without further loss of time, started off towards the +coastguard station. He was barefooted, having taken off his boots in +order to climb; but that troubled him little, as he ran steadily across +the night-curtained sleeping country. + +Some hours later they stood together in the hall at Ravenshill, Mrs. +Russelthorpe facing them. + +It was one o'clock; the short summer's night was nearly spent, but the +big swinging lamp was still burning. To Meg and Barnabas, coming in from +the sweet dark garden, the house seemed in a blaze of light. + +The men were all out, searching far and wide for Meg. Only Mr. +Russelthorpe had not been told of her absence: he had gone early to bed, +and locked the door on himself; giving orders that no one was to disturb +him. + +Mrs. Russelthorpe was white with passion. Meg was quite silent. + +Barnabas Thorpe stood looking from one woman to the other. + +"You are a disgrace to the house! You have no shame left!" said Mrs. +Russelthorpe. Then the man's blue eyes flashed angrily. + +"There's only one of us three has any cause for shame, an' it's not this +maid nor me. It's not fit that any should say such things to her. Have +ye no brother or father, lass? If ye have, I would like to speak wi' +him." + +Meg shook her head. + +"Yes; but he is a very long way off; and I don't quite know where," she +said; "and, perhaps, he'll believe Aunt Russelthorpe." + +Mrs. Russelthorpe's face hardened; the preacher could not have done +worse than appeal from her to Meg's father. She was a hard woman, and +rather a coarse one; but she would scarcely have said what she said that +night, if the jealousy which always smouldered between her and her +brother's child had not been fanned by his words. + +"He will most certainly believe me," she said. "But it is almost a pity +(for his sake) that, having stayed away so long, you ever came back at +all." + +Meg caught her breath with a low cry, as if she had been stabbed; but a +sudden light broke over the preacher's face. + +"Cast thy garments about thee, and follow me," he cried. "I did not +understand before. My eyes were holden; but now it is made clear to us: +it is the message from the Lord." + +He made one stride forward and stretched out both his hands. + +"Come _now_!" he cried. "I will snatch you like a brand from the +burning. Come with me! Let us go out together and preach the Master in +the Highways and Hedges. Your example shall be as a shining light to +guide the feet of those who are snared by riches. Come! The world has +called you on one side and the Master on the other, and you have +hesitated; and now the call has been made clearer. Choose quickly, +before it is too late. Let me take you from the evil that you feel too +strong for you. No one can stay us. You shall go like Peter through the +prison doors at the call of the Lord, an' in His strength I will hold ye +safe." + +Meg looked at him, one long earnest look, then away from him, at the +familiar hall, where she had danced gaily three months ago. She thought +of the portrait of the great-aunt whose eyes always followed her, and +who had done something mysteriously "dreadful". Aunt Russelthorpe would +say she was as bad, but she wasn't, she was following a call. She +thought of her old uncle, who was sleeping through all this commotion; +she thought of Laura and Kate; her aunt's words about her father had +hurt her so much that she tried not to think of him; she saw again the +preacher on the beach, ah! that was the beginning, and to-night only +grew out of it; or was the beginning further back still in the days when +her father had told her of Lazarus waiting "outside"? + +"Choose while ye may," said Barnabas Thorpe. And she put her hand in his +with an odd sense that very little "choice" was left. + +"You say it is a message?" she said. "Very well. Let it be so--I will go +with you." + +Mrs. Russelthorpe had stood with lips compressed, rigidly still, during +the preacher's extraordinary proposal; she made one faint attempt to +stop them now--but it was too late. + +Barnabas Thorpe put her aside as easily as he would have brushed away a +fly. "You ha' said your say. It was a cruel one," he said. "You ha' done +wi' this maid." And they went out together into the night. + + * * * * * + +The men who had been sent out to search for Meg returned in the early +morning. Their mistress met them in the hall; she had evidently taken no +rest, and her face in the pitiless daylight looked haggard and worn. + +It had been known in the household that Mrs. Russelthorpe and Miss +Margaret didn't get on; but the servants whispered to each other now, +that Mrs. Russelthorpe took it harder than might have been expected. + +Later in the day, the coastguard from the station on the downs brought +news of Miss Deane, and told how Barnabas Thorpe had come to his cottage +for ropes, and of how they had gone together to the young lady's +assistance. + +The coastguard would hardly believe that the preacher had not brought +his charge safely home. "I would have trusted my own daughter with him +anywhere," he kept repeating. Of that strange scene in the hall, no one +but the three concerned ever knew. + +Later still they heard of Meg's marriage;--the bare announcement and no +more. Mrs. Russelthorpe handed the missive to her husband. + +"The girl is crazy," she said. "There is no other explanation." + +Mr. Russelthorpe laid down his book--they were in the library--with a +groan. + +"I can't face Charles. I shall go away when he comes back," was the only +comment he made. + +"Why? It wasn't your fault," said his wife impatiently. "You had nothing +to do with the unhappy child." + +"Nothing, nothing!" muttered the old man. "She told me she was +desperate, and I did nothing." + +Mrs. Russelthorpe turned on him sharply; her face was hard and drawn. + +"Margaret told you that? Then hold your tongue about it, Joseph. It is +better she should be mad, than that she should have taken this scamp of +her own free will." + +Mr. Russelthorpe shook his head. + +"You have never liked the girl," he said. "But she is no more mad than +you are. She was in our charge, and we have been bad guardians; and when +your brother comes----" + +"When he comes _I_ will meet him," said Mrs. Russelthorpe; "it is +between him and me." + +The old man gave her a quick furtive glance. + +"You have never wanted any one else to come between you and him," he +said; and Mrs. Russelthorpe winced. + +"We'll talk of it no more," she cried. "Meg is dead to us." + +"Yes," said Uncle Russelthorpe, "but that won't prevent there being the +devil to pay." + + * * * * * + +There is--or rather there was when Margaret Deane was young--a fishing +hamlet on the Kentish coast that consisted of just one line of tarred +wooden huts, and a square-towered chapel. + +The women would put their candles in the windows after the sun had +dipped, that the twinkling friendly eyes of their houses might guide the +fishermen home; but whether it was day or night Sheerhaven had always +the air of a watcher by the sea. + +The glow of dawn was just warming the grey water when a boat grated on +Sheerhaven beach, and a man and a woman climbed slowly up the yellow +shelving bank. When they had gone a few steps the man turned and held +out his hand. "You are over weary, an' it's no wonder," he said. "Best +let me help you." + +A fisherman who was pushing off his boat paused and marvelled, as well +he might. + +"That's Barnabas Thorpe. But who is the girl?" + +They walked along the queer old street, that was bounded on one side by +the shingle, and was often wave- as well as wind-swept, in the high +spring-tides. + +Barnabas knocked at a door. His mind was still running on St. Peter and +the angel. "It 'ull be the mistress not the maid who will open to us +here," he remarked. + +The smell of a clover field was blown to them, and a cock crew lustily +while they waited. + +"The new day has begun," said the girl in a low voice. + +The woman who opened the door, a muscular large-featured fish-wife, +started when she saw them. + +"Dear heart! it's the preacher,--and wet through," she cried. "Now step +in, Barnabas, and I'll have a fire in a minute. Eh! what's this? What do +you say? A maid as wants shelter?" her good-natured face fell. She had +little doubt that it was some "unfortunate" the preacher had rescued. + +"We--el--yes; let her come along, she'll do us no harm." + +She took them into the parlour, and began to lay the sticks. + +"Ran down with the tide from Dover, eh? Well, you've given the lass a +salt baptism; she's not got a dry stitch on her. Come nearer, my woman; +the fire will blaze up in a minute. Why!" with a sudden change of voice +as Meg obeyed her. "The Lord have mercy on us, Barnabas! What have you +been about?" + +"I'll tell ye by-and-by when she is a bit dryer," said the preacher; but +Mrs. Cuxton's eyes did not wait for his telling. She took one more long +stare at her strange visitor, who had taken off the rough coat Barnabas +had wrapped round her in the boat, and who stood shivering a little by +the fire. + +Her glance fell from the delicate refined face to the small nervous +hands, and the dainty shoes soaked in salt water. + +"You belong to gentlefolk, missy?" she said. "Ah, yes! I can see----" + +"I don't belong to them any more," said the girl, speaking for the first +time with a thrill of excitement, but with an intonation and accent +which belied her words; and their hostess shook her head, and looked +again at Barnabas, who was staring thoughtfully at the flames. + +"I'd as lief speak a word to 'ee," he said gravely; and she followed him +out of the room with the liveliest interest depicted on her face. + +When she returned alone she found her guest sleeping from sheer +exhaustion, her head on the seat of the wooden chair, her slim girlish +form on the sanded floor. + +Mrs. Cuxton bent over her, her gratified curiosity giving place to a +protective motherly compunction; Meg's fair hair was wet with the sea, +and shone in the firelight like a halo, her lips were just parted, she +looked less than her twenty-one years. + +"Poor lamb! to think what I thought of her! Eh! but it's a bad enough +business as it is!" muttered the woman; and even while she watched her +heart went out to the girl. + +Meg awake might possibly have aroused criticism or disapproval; Meg +sleeping took her unawares. + +Mrs. Cuxton made up a bed on the settle, and drew it to the fire and +then took off the wet shoes and stockings, warming the cold feet between +her hands. Meg woke up and remonstrated faintly, but was too utterly +worn out to care much what happened. The reaction from the tremendous +excitement of the night was telling on her, and she was almost too weary +to stand, though she felt a sort of comfort in this rough woman's +tenderness. + +"How kind you are, and what a deal of trouble I am giving you!" she +said, as Mrs. Cuxton made her lie down in the improvised bed, and tucked +her in with a motherly admonition to "put sleep betwixt her and her +sorrows". + +"I can't think whatever your people were about to let you do such a +thing, and you only a slip of a girl. Trouble? you're no trouble in the +world, missy; but your mother must be breaking her heart to-night for +you!" cried Mrs. Cuxton; and there were actually tears in her eyes. + +"I haven't got a mother," said Meg. "Nobody's heart will break for me, +so it really doesn't much matter, you know, what happens, and I am too +tired to think; besides, it's done now!" Her eyelids closed again, +almost while she was speaking; and Mrs. Cuxton left her with a muttered +ejaculation, worn out with weariness and excitement, sleeping like a +child over the very threshold of the new life. + +It was in Sheerhaven that Meg was married to Barnabas Thorpe. She took +that last irrevocable step with a curious unflinching determination,--a +sense, half womanly, half childish, that having gone so far, there had +better be no going back; that having trusted him so much, the +responsibility was his altogether. + +"I can't do any other way," he had told her. "I couldn't take ye with me +without that; ye must have the protection o' my name, and give me that +much right i' the eyes o' the world to fend for ye,--that's all I am +wanting. I ha' never thought to marry since I was 'called'." + +The girl, standing in the door of the black hut where he had brought her +the night before, was quite silent for a full minute, her face full of +conflicting emotions. + +"If you say we must do it, then--very well," she said at last. "I may as +well be Margaret Thorpe as Margaret Deane." + +The preacher turned quickly; her quiet assent discomposed him, though in +his heart he believed his own words: for the sake of the maid's good +name there was no other way. + +"Lass!" he said earnestly, "it seemed to me a call o' the Lord's, an' I +had no doubts; but ye are young, an' I'm no natural mate for ye. If ye +choose, I'll find that father ye talk of, wherever he may be, an' make +him understan' the truth. I'll leave ye here this hour and go; but, +having come out o' the city o' destruction, to my mind ye had better +stay out." + +"You will find my father?" Her face brightened and flushed for a second, +and then rather a painful look crossed it, and she shook her head. + +"Aunt Russelthorpe will see him first," she said; "so it is of no use." + +No stranger could ever understand how much despair there was in that +last sentence. + +"Then there's just naught else possible," said the man: and she bent her +head in assent. + +She did not see him again till she saw him in the church, where they +exchanged vows. Mrs. Cuxton gave her away with grim disapproval. + +The guest whom the sea had brought in the early dawn, and who had spent +two whole days under her roof, had charmed the heart out of the woman +like a white witch. + +Meg's fineness and slenderness touched the big fish-wife. Meg's sweet +smile, the manner that was her father's, and her pretty voice, when she +sat singing the whole of one morning to the little cripple lad whose +life Barnabas Thorpe had once saved, were all part of the witchery. +During the whole of her chequered life there were always some people +(and generally people of a very opposite type to her own) who were +inclined to give her that peculiarly warm and instinctive service that +has something of the romance of loyalty in it; her home had been +somewhat over-cold, but more than once the gift of love, unexpected and +unasked, was held out by strange hands as she passed by. + +It was a gusty morning, and the break of the waves sounded all through +the short service when Meg was married. She paused when they stood on +the steps of the church and looked across the sea,--a long +look--(somewhere on the other side of that water was her father); then +they went inside. + +The bride had on a close-fitting plain straw bonnet that Mrs. Cuxton +had bought in the village, and her white dress was simpler than what +might have been worn by a woman of the preacher's own class; but the old +clergyman who was to tie the knot (blind and sleepy though he was) +peered hard at her, then looked at Barnabas Thorpe uncertainly. They +were a strangely matched couple, he thought. If Meg had seemed +frightened he would possibly have spoken; but when her courage was at +the sticking-point she did not hesitate, and nothing would have induced +her to show the white feather then. It was a plainly furnished church, +small and light. The walls were whitewashed, the communion table was +covered with a much-patched cloth. It was so small that the fishermen +seemed almost to fill it. + +They were a deeply interested congregation. All of them knew the +preacher; many of them were bound to him by close ties. + +Meg's fresh sweet voice, with its refined pronunciation, troubled the +clergyman afresh; but it was too late to ask questions, and the service +went on undisturbed to its conclusion. + +The two signatures are still visible in the vestry. "Margaret Deane," in +the fine Italian hand that Mrs. Russelthorpe had inculcated; and +underneath, in laboured characters like a schoolboy's, "Barnabas +Thorpe". + +Meg's pride carried her safely through the meal that waited them on +their return; it was spread in the kitchen, and some of the fishermen +who had been in the church lounged in, and stared silently at her +through the sheltering clouds of tobacco. She made a valiant attempt to +eat, and then escaped to change her dress, for the blue serge skirt and +cotton body, that Mrs. Cuxton had got with the slender stock of money +Meg had had in her pocket. + +Mrs. Cuxton followed her after a minute. + +"Barnabas is writing them word at home that he has married you. He says +have you aught to say?" she said. + +"No," answered the girl; "there will never be anything more said between +them and me." + +Mrs. Cuxton nodded: her manner had changed slightly since the deed had +been done, and the last gleam of doubt as to Meg's "really going on with +it" had disappeared. + +"I don't know what led you to this," she said, putting her hand on Meg's +shoulder; "but you say true--you've done it! And whether the blame was +mostly yours or not, it's you that must take the consequences! But +you've a bit of a spirit of your own, that I fancy may carry you +through; and Barnabas Thorpe is a good man, for all I blame him for this +day's work. You just stick by him now, and don't never look back at what +you've left--it's your only way!" + +Meg made no answer: an odd frightened expression crossed her face; then +she drew herself up. "I am ready," she said; "only just say 'Good Luck' +to me before I go." + +"God help you and bless you," said Mrs. Cuxton earnestly, "and him too!" + +There was a hush when the bride came in, as unlike a fish-wife in her +fish-wife's gear, as well could be. + +Barnabas Thorpe sprang to his feet and cut leave-takings short. A cart +was waiting for them; he threw up a bundle and lifted Meg in, before she +knew what he was about, and they were off at a rather reckless pace down +the uneven street. + +Meg leant back to wave her hand to Mrs. Cuxton; she had not said +good-bye, or thanked her, but she watched her till they were out of +sight. It seemed to the good woman that those grey eyes were saying a +good deal that Meg's tongue had not said; and as the cart dwindled to a +speck in the distance she turned indoors with a heavy heart. + + + + +SECOND PART. + + + + +CHAPTER I. + + +Ravenshill was shut up after its brief season of gaiety, and the Deanes +came back to it no more. + +Margaret's father felt very bitterly the blow that had fallen on him. +Both his affection and his pride were outraged; and he was wanting in +neither quality, though, in the first shock of the news, the latter +seemed to outweigh the former. + +That Meg, his special pet, his favourite daughter, of whose beauty he +had been so proud, whose very failings were so like his own that he had +felt them a subtle form of flattery, that Meg should have done this +thing,--it seemed monstrous and impossible. + +At first he absolutely refused to credit her aunt's letter, throwing it +into the fire with a quick scornful gesture and an angry laugh; but by +the time he had reached England, the reality of what had happened had +entered into his soul. + +Mrs. Russelthorpe was not a sympathetic woman, but she cared for her +brother; and the sight of his face on their first meeting in the +drawing-room made her blench for once, and avert her gaze. + +He uttered no word of reproach, he asked few questions, and made no +comments. + +If Margaret had been dead he would have wept for her; but she was too +far away for tears. She had given the lie to her past; and, had he found +her in her coffin, he felt that she would have been less utterly lost to +him. + +Death might have drawn a veil between them, but it is only life that can +separate utterly. + +Mrs. Russelthorpe made one faint attempt at consolation; but consoling +was not in her line, and she did it awkwardly. + +Mr. Deane lifted his head and looked at her, with a face that seemed to +have grown grey, and eyes that were terribly like Meg's. + +"Don't, please!" he said; "you mean well, sis--but you don't understand. +She was my child, and is my grief." And Mrs. Russelthorpe was silent. If +she had ever felt moved to a revelation of what had led to Meg's flight, +she said to herself now that her brother's own entreaty sealed her lips. + +No one spoke to him of Meg after that, though every one felt sorry for +him. The quiet dignity with which he bore his trouble awoke more +sympathy than any lamentations would have aroused; but he was a man who +always and involuntarily awoke sympathy, whether in his joy or in his +grief. + +It was not till he had been some weeks in the house that he noticed his +brother-in-law's absence. + +"Joseph is quite as well as usual," Mrs. Russelthorpe said coldly, in +reply to his inquiry. "He fancies himself an invalid, and will never +make the slightest exertion now. It's no use for you to try and see him, +Charles;" and Charles did not try. + +Perhaps he rather dreaded the old man's sharp-edged cynicism just then; +though he need not have been afraid: Meg's uncle was quite as sore about +her as was Meg's father, and a good deal more remorseful. + +Very few people saw anything of Mr. Russelthorpe during the last years +of his life. George Sauls declared that the poor old fellow was +scandalously neglected; but then George Sauls was a good hater, and not +likely to take a lenient view of Mrs. Russelthorpe. + +Oddly enough, Mr. Sauls was the only person who guessed how heavily +Meg's last hopeless appeal weighed on her uncle's mind. He was fiercely +angry himself, inclined to quarrel (if they would give him the chance) +with all Meg's relatives, to scoff at the popular sympathy for Mr. +Deane, and to be unamiably sceptical when he was told that Mrs. +Russelthorpe was an altered woman, and felt far more deeply than might +have been supposed. + +People said, indignantly, that Mr. Sauls did not show himself in at all +a pleasing light; and that, considering how kind Mr. Deane had been to +him, he might have exhibited more feeling for his friend's trouble; and, +indeed, the worst side of the man seemed uppermost at that time. + +Yet he called at the house in Bryanston Square when the Russelthorpes +returned to town, showing some boldness in continuing his visits in +spite of Mrs. Russelthorpe's surprised looks when they encountered each +other in the hall. Mr. Russelthorpe had a liking for the young Jew, +whose secret he had guessed; and though George had made his way into the +library, in the first instance, from purely interested motives, being +determined to know all there was to be known about Meg, yet he came +again and again, from an unexpressed friendship for the queer, whimsical +recluse, who was nominally master of that big house, but who was of no +account whatever, and who seemed to grow lonelier and queerer as the +years went by. + +On the occasion of his first visit after hearing of Meg's departure, +George had almost forced an entry, and had found Meg's uncle sitting +almost as Meg herself had found him, save that he was making no pretence +of reading now, and that his little wizened face was surmounted by a +nightcap. + +"Go away, I am ill!" he cried fretfully, when the door opened; but when +he saw who his visitor was, he straightened himself, and held out his +hand. + +"Have you come to look at my Egyptian coins again, Sauls?" he asked. +"You haven't heard the news then, or you would know that the study of +antiquities won't repay you,--won't repay you at all." + +"It is true, then!" said Mr. Sauls, a trifle hoarsely. "Would you mind +telling me what you know about it, sir?" + +"Yes, I should mind," said the old man. Then, when he looked at Mr. +Sauls, he apparently relented. "Sit down; though the story won't take +long. It's short, and not particularly sweet," he remarked; and he told +it in as few words as possible. + +"Put not your trust in women," said George, with rather a futile attempt +at flippancy, when he had heard the end. "What a fool I've been! I +thought I had bought all my experience in that line years ago. Oh well! +it's done now, and the sweetest _ingénue_ in the world won't take me in +again." + +Mr. Russelthorpe looked up sharply. "I suppose when a man's hurt he must +blame some one," he said; "and it's easiest to throw the blame on the +woman; and this, perhaps, is as good a reason for raving against her as +any other. Otherwise, I should say that whoever has cause of complaint, +you've none; but my eyes are old and blind. You talk of being 'taken +in'. Possibly she encouraged you more than I knew." + +George coloured. "I beg your pardon, sir," he said. "I did not mean to +imply that Miss Deane--Mrs. Thorpe, I mean--ever did more than barely +tolerate me at times. She was a cut above me, I fancied. As events have +proved, I was a trifle too modest. It isn't generally my failing; but, +evidently, her taste was not so fastidious as I supposed. Barnabas +Thorpe knew better. D----n him!" he added savagely. + +"Oh certainly!" said Mr. Russelthorpe. "We'll do that, with all my +heart. Not that it will make any difference. But, as to her, you're +wrong. If it's any consolation to you, I don't think that she would have +married you in any case. Not that I don't believe she would have done a +wise thing if she had," he added, holding out his hand with a gleam of +sympathy. "I should have been glad to see it; but--and this is one of +those little arrangements that make one wonder whether there isn't a +devil at the steering wheel after all--the purer minded and more +innocent a girl is, the more likely she is to fling herself away for an +empty idea, and the more faith she'll have in any canting fool who +appeals to her 'higher motives'. It is born with some women, that pining +to sacrifice themselves, and to spend all their energies on other +people. It used to amuse me, when my niece was a child, to see how she +was always throwing pearls before swine. Well! well! she's done it with +a vengeance this time!" + +"Ah! I am glad it amuses you so much," said Mr. Sauls. "It's a very +entertaining story from first to last, isn't it? I don't know which is +funniest, the thought of that girl's lonely girlhood in this house, +where no one seems to have cared twopence about her, or her reckless +marriage with a man who'll probably make her repent every hour of her +life. Do you suppose he'll kick her when he gets sick of the pearls? +That would be most amusing of all, wouldn't it?" + +He spoke almost brutally. Mr. Deane, however angry, could not have used +that tone to an old man; but George had been brought up in a less strict +school of manners, and, perhaps, at that moment had a revulsion of +feeling against these grandees amongst whom he had pushed himself +in,--to his own undoing, as he felt just then. + +At that moment he found it hard to look at things calmly, or to consider +that, after all, a love affair was an episode he would get over; whereas +the advantages he had derived from an intimacy with the Deanes were +solid and lasting, the _entrée_ to Mr. Deane's house having been a +decided step upwards on the social ladder. Mr. Russelthorpe made no +reply, and George took up his hat. + +"I am in too bad a temper to be good company, sir," he said; "though, I +daresay, I amuse you. Good-bye." + +"You are young still, and angry with fate, or Providence, or the +devil,--whichever you like to call it," said the old man. "But as for +me, I am old,--too old to be indignant any more, or to go on knocking my +head against stone walls; but--I am sorry too--I have not outlived +sorrow yet;--unfortunately, that is the last thing we leave behind." + +George twisted his eyeglass rapidly. "There are a good many years before +me, in all probability," he said. "I may meet her again. In fact, I will +try to, sooner or later. One would like to know how it answers, but not +just yet. I don't want to be taken up for assault, and I should find it +hard to keep my hands off that preaching villain. I will wait." + +"Well," said Mr. Russelthorpe drily, "I think you'd better; for I've +heard that Barnabas Thorpe knows how to use his fists too: it would be +undignified, should you get the worst of it. Besides (though you can +hardly be expected to see this), though I've met hypocrites in my time, +I doubt whether they are common. Self-deceived idiots there are in +plenty, who dub their own desires and prejudices the 'Voice of the +Lord'; but villains are scarce. He may be one; of course, it simplifies +matters to believe that he is; one can curse him the more heartily,--but +I doubt it." + +"Do you?" said George shortly; "I don't!" + +"No," said the old man; "I don't suppose you do. You're young and hard, +as I said before, and sure about everything. Well, don't go and make a +fool of yourself about her. What good do you suppose you could do? You +might, of course, do harm--that is always so much easier--harm to her +and yourself too. I don't know that it would amuse me much if harm +should come to you. I should miss you rather--though probably I should +do nothing to prevent it." + +His voice died away sadly, in a rambling sentence, about something he +had said or had not said, and might have prevented and hadn't prevented. + +"But you are in such a hurry, Margaret, and I am too old to think so +quickly--too old, too old!" he mumbled. + +Mr. Sauls, who was just going away, turned back, arrested by that long +weak murmur. He crossed the room again, made up the fire, and pushed the +armchair closer to it. + +"You are not well, sir. Ought you to be alone like this? shall I fetch +any one?" + +"No--no--don't fetch her. I can't stand her. Don't, I say, _don't_!" +cried Mr. Russelthorpe so nervously that George gave up the idea at +once. + +"I'll look in again if you would like it," he said, half wondering at +himself while he spoke. + +"Yes; come again, and, Sauls--come nearer--I've something to say." + +George came nearer, and bent over him. "If ever they tell you that I am +dying, you insist on coming in, and turn her out," he whispered. "You +turn her out! And--and--I want to make my will. Come in and talk it +over. I wish to make you executor--and I'll tell you where I put +it--then you can find it, when I am dead; but don't let her know--she +knows only about the old one. Promise me!" + +"All right!" said George; "I promise." Mr. Russelthorpe broke into a low +chuckle. + +"I wish my spirit could be there to see," he said. "Who knows? it may +be, eh? We really know nothing after all. You won't mind a scene with +her, will you?" + +"With Mrs. Russelthorpe?" said George. "Oh, no; I shall rather like it!" + +"Ah!" said the old man. "So shall I, if I am there, released from this +feeble old body. I hope I may be." Arid he chuckled again. "Well, +good-night, lad." + +As for George, he wended his way to Hill Street to dine with his mother. +He had pulled his rather unpresentable family up with him, and he was +worshipped at home. He always gave Mrs. Sauls the pleasure of his +society on one evening in the week; and, considering how busy he was, +and how manifold were his engagements, his constancy in keeping to this +rule showed some tenacity of purpose. + +Mrs. Sauls most firmly believed that all the grand ladies he met were +simply dying for "her George," and that he might, as she elegantly +expressed it, "'ave 'is pick of them". Perhaps some of "George's" +partners might have been rather appalled at the idea of having her for a +mother-in-law; but then, as she said, "Lord bless you, they won't marry +_me_; and George's wife will be able to afford to put up with my yellow +old face if the Sauls' diamonds set off her young one. I shan't grudge +'em to her, though I won't give them up to any one else; and she'll have +the finest in London." + +While awaiting the arrival of "George's wife," who had been discussed +and speculated on since George had been in petticoats, his mother wore +the diamonds herself, in season and out of season. She had a gay taste +in dress, delighting in crimsons and yellows, and she always put on her +best clothes for her son. Rebecca Sauls had had a bad husband; but +George more than made up, as she never tired of saying. + +He had been a most objectionable little boy, and had sown a too liberal +supply of wild oats as a youth; but his manhood had repaid her: he had +turned out cleverer than his father; for, while old Sauls had known only +how to make and to save, George, in addition, knew how to spend. + +It had required something of an effort on George's part to tear himself +away from the old place in the City; but his ambition was even stronger +than his talent for money-making, and he boldly cut the shop, and went +in for the law. His mother supported him, though all his father's +relations held up their hands in holy horror. + +"And now my son sits down at table in houses where the Benjamin Mosses +and Joseph Saulses wouldn't dream of putting the tips of their long +noses!" said she. "And, what's more, they are glad and thankful to get +him; but he won't give _me_ up, not for the grandest of them; he'll dine +here on a Saturday night, let alone who wants him." And that Saturday +night was Mrs. Sauls' gala day. Then she donned her lowest and gayest +dress, and most fearful and wonderful headgear, and ordered an +aldermanic feast. She would have given George melted pearls to drink, +had he expressed any desire that way. + +She was an odd-looking old lady, with jet black hair and curiously +light-coloured eyes, which were in strong contrast to her very dark +complexion, and gave her rather a strange expression. Her mouth was +coarse, like her son's, and, like him also, she had plenty to say for +herself, and was excellent company. + +Some cousins came to dinner, also loud-voiced and bedizened with +diamonds. The youngest cousin was at the age when Jewesses are +handsomest, being barely seventeen. + +She flirted outrageously with George, and he patronised her in a free +and easy style. He could generally suit his manners to his company, and +_this_ company was rather a rest and relaxation to him. + +They all made a great deal of noise after dinner; it struck George that +seven people in Hill Street were noisier than fourteen in Bryanston +Square, and probably merrier. Mrs. Russelthorpe's hair would have stood +on end if she could have seen that entertainment. + +Mrs. Sauls enjoyed it as much as any one; but when the company had gone +off hilariously, and George, having seen his guests out of the hall +door, returned for a _tête-à-tête_ with her,--then she tasted the +crowning felicity of the evening. + +George always paid his mother the compliment of talking to her about his +professional ambitions and interests. She was his only confidante, and +he never forgot how she had encouraged him at the very outset of his +career. He was not a man who forgot either injuries or benefits. + +He talked a long time. Neither of them minded sitting up half the night; +and the old lady liked the smell of his cigar, and enjoyed mixing his +whisky and water for him, and rejoiced in the sound of his voice. + +"Really!" he exclaimed at last, when two o'clock struck. "I am teaching +you very bad ways, mother! I say, do you suppose that Miriam Moss will +dream of forfeits to-night? She's a very precocious little girl! It's +odd how early Jewesses develop. I've known other women of twenty or one +and twenty not a quarter so 'formed' as she is." + +His mother looked anxiously at him. "You are not thinking of marrying +her, are you?" she asked. "You should do better than that, my son. The +Mosses are rich, certainly; but I should like to see you go in for a +title, myself; and you needn't be afraid that I'll stand in your way +when you want to bring a wife home. Indeed, I'd like to have a grandson +on my knee before I die, George; though I don't deny that it's been luck +for me, in some respects, that you haven't married before. 'A son's a +son till he gets him a wife.' Still, it's time now; and, if I were you, +I'd look not lower than a county family. You've got money enough. And +you may tell the lady from me," and her hard old face softened at the +words, "you may tell her from me, that she'll be a lucky woman, for your +vulgar old mother says so, and she has had reason enough to swear to +it." + +George laughed, and put his arm round her. The caress meant a good deal +more than all the pretty speeches he had made to Miriam. + +"The lucky young woman of title to whom I shall so kindly condescend to +throw the handkerchief hasn't appeared on the horizon yet," he said. +"When she does, she shan't turn up her highly aristocratic little nose +at you, mother! Nobody shall come between you and me." + +Mrs. Sauls nodded till her earrings twinkled again. "So much the better +for me, my son; but wives aren't so amenable as mothers. Don't answer +for her too soon!" + +"One can answer for any woman--just as far as one can see her, eh?" said +George, yawning; and his mother looked hard at him. + +Possibly she guessed that the horizon had not been quite so clear as he +would have had her believe; and had a pretty shrewd suspicion that +something besides work had deepened the lines on his face. But she was +wise in her generation, and kept her counsel. + +He talked on for some time, chiefly on business, after that; bidding her +good-night only when the dawn began to creep through the shutters. + +"Good-night, my dear," said his mother, "and God bless you for a good +son, as I'm sure He ought." + +She had a wistful feeling while she said the words that Providence had +somehow been unduly hard on George lately. Her son laughed profanely: "I +believe you think that the Almighty is rather honoured in having me to +bless!" + +But he was fond of his mother all the same, and her blessing did him no +harm. + +After all, he couldn't go and make an utter fool of himself--or +worse,--while the old woman believed in him so. + +A girl begged of him on his way through the streets, and his sallow +cheek flushed, for the colour of her hair was like Meg's. + +_Her_ innocent face swam before him for a moment, and he put his hand +before his eyes with a sense of sacrilege at the reminder. He believed +himself as little given to sentiment as any man; but he had felt, since +he had known Meg, that his other thoughts were not good enough company +for those of her. Now, with a bitter revulsion, he declared to himself +that the preacher, who had had no scruples, had fared the best. + +He thrust the girl aside, and quickened his steps with compressed lips. + +When he got to his rooms he walked straight up to his writing-table +drawer, and took from it a little water-colour sketch that had been torn +out of Laura's sketch book. + +"I can't afford this nonsense," he said. "I shall murder the preacher, +if I let you stay here now." + +He tore the portrait across, and burnt it in the flame of his lamp. And +this was, perhaps, the most sensible thing he could have done; but +George seldom lost his head, whatever happened to his heart. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + + She has tied a knot with her tongue that she'll not undo with her + teeth. + + +Caulderwell Farm is built on the edge of the "flats". All round it, in +the days of which I write, was unreclaimed land--broad salt marshes, +where the water crept slowly up at high tide, oozing between the rank +grass and the sand banks, where the wild ducks nested and the frogs +croaked. Fresh-water springs there were too, making tender green +splotches in the midst of the redder salt-fed vegetation, and deep black +pools, that only the wind and the rain and the shy water-birds visited +from one year's end to the other. + +From the windows that face south the silver streak of salt water could +be seen five miles as the crow flies across the marshes,--a lonely sea +breaking on no cheerful child-haunted beach, but rolling in in long grey +waves over the soft reed-tufted sand, where the rime clung in crusted +serpentine ridges, and where bits of timber and shells got caught among +the weeds, till the waves carried them back again. + +A lonely country, whose lover's salt kisses left her the more barren. + +The grey walls of the solitary house stood sturdily square to every wind +that blew; the bit of cultivated ground was dyked all round, and the one +road across the marsh led straight to the house door, and there +stopped, for beyond the farm was no man's land. + +The Thorpes had lived here from generation to generation. They boasted +that the marsh ague never touched them, and that their cattle never got +lost in the "mosses". They had always been noted for a particular breed +of horses, for which they got a sale at the annual horse fair at N----; +for the gift of "bone setting," which had appeared in the family again +and again; and for a certain obstinate originality, a "way of their +own," which the first Thorpe had exemplified in his choice of a home. +That good man was popularly supposed to have had a hard tussle with the +marsh devil (who was peculiar to the soil, and was an unclean spirit +with a head like a horse), over the building of the house. Apparently he +had worsted his adversary thoroughly; for Caulderwell Farm still stands, +and was three hundred years old when Margaret--who had been Margaret +Deane--first made its acquaintance. Daughters had been scarce in the +farm. In that respect also the Thorpe family had showed a decided +peculiarity. Of the children born to it by far the larger proportion had +been boys; and the few girls who had had the temerity to open their eyes +in that wind-circled house had generally died before maturity. + +Barnabas Thorpe's father had had no sisters, and his wife had brought +him sons only. + +He had been ambitious as a young man, separated as he was from the +people about him by his new-fangled ideas, his greater education, and +the touch of something that appeared very like genius in his youth, and +like madness in his old age; the "something" that had been always +cropping up afresh in each succeeding generation. + +It seemed likely that his sons might be sent to college, and rise to the +level of gentlefolk; but nothing of the sort happened. On the contrary, +the family fortunes fell back; a sort of melancholy blight seemed to +have infected the man; he lost interest and energy; the tide of his +ambition turned and ebbed, as that quiet creeping sea turned and ebbed +from the pools outside. + +People said that the two calamities of his life had soured him, that he +had never been the same after the death of his wife, and that the +accident that had made his first-born, his favourite son, grow up +deformed in body, had given a morbid twist to the father's mind. + +It may have been so; but it is more probable that the "twist" was there +before,--born with him as surely as the colour of his eyes, and the +shape of his head, and that it was only accentuated by circumstances. + +His wife had died in childbirth; and, out of his passionate and extreme +grief, grew, hardly controllable, an aversion for the innocent cause of +it. + +Tom Thorpe "fathered" his brother to the best of his ability, and kept +him out of his real father's sight. Barnabas grew up sturdy and strong; +a lover of "out-of-door" pursuits; a hater of books; a child possessed +of immense animal spirits, noisy, and rather unruly, who played truant +from school whenever he could, and took the consequent thrashings +carelessly; a lad with a violent temper and a kind heart; who never +puzzled his brains about anything, and was popular in spite of being +slightly overbearing and obstinate, as all his forbears had been; a man +who became a wanderer on the face of the earth, and startled every one +who had known him by the suddenness and power of his "conversion". + +He had been fifteen years in that service, to which he had given heart +and life, when Margaret first saw him. + +During that time he had come back to the farm at intervals, drawn by an +overmastering longing for his native marshes; and, possibly, by a +strong though undemonstrative affection for Tom. He had always returned, +as he had gone, alone; until the night when he had brought home his +wife. + +It was late October. In the south, the trees still clung to their red +and gold glories, and there was mellowness in the air, the afterglow of +departing summer; but here, in the north, winter had already claimed +possession, and had cut short brusquely the tender leave-takings of the +warm weather. + +The few trees that there were, little gnarled stunted specimens, had +been violently bereft of their leaves, and leaned to one side, adapting +themselves to the constant bullying of the gales, that swept through +their thin knotted branches, and dashed against Caulderwell Farm, as if +in hopes of, at last, laying that stern and sturdy old building low. + +The lonely house looked cold and desolate enough from outside; but the +heart of it, the cheerful kitchen where Mr. Thorpe and his son sat, was +warm, even hot, on the coldest of nights. + +The man who planned the farm had made the kitchen the noblest room in +it. The prim "best parlour," and even the dining-room which no one ever +used, but which boasted a curiously blazoned ceiling, were nothing in +comparison. + +The kitchen was oak-panelled, wide and essentially comfortable, with red +brick floor and huge fireplace fitted with corner seats. + +Candles, smoked hams, and rows of onions hung from the rafters. The +china, genuine old willow, was piled on the oak dresser; pewter pots +gleamed cheerfully in the firelight, though they were muddled up with +pipes and fishing tackle in a way that would have made a good +housewife's heart sink; and the rubicund face of an "old toby" beamed +from among them,--a sort of presiding genius. + +Two tallow candles stood on the square wooden table in the middle of the +room. The remains of a meal were shoved together at one corner of the +table, and books littered the other side. The candles cast deep eerie +shadows, but never flickered; though the wind was tossing against the +lozenge-shaped windows in angry gusts. The thick walls of the farm were +quite draught-proof, let the storm shriek as it would. + +Mr. Thorpe was walking with long uneven steps up and down the room. His +hands--thin narrow hands--were clasped behind his back, his head poked +forward a little. + +He was a loose-limbed, gaunt man; big-boned, though he stooped so that +it was difficult to guess his real height; his chest seemed to have sunk +in, and his shoulders to have become permanently rounded. + +His clothes hung on him as if they had been put on with a pitchfork, and +his silky black beard straggled untidily over his old-fashioned flowered +waistcoat. + +His eyes were deep-set, blue, like his younger son's; but here the +resemblance ended, for Mr. Thorpe was olive-complexioned, and his +features were fine and clear cut. His was a more refined face than the +preacher's. Evidently, Barnabas had inherited from his mother's side his +fair skin and curly hair; also, probably, his incapacity for learning +and his splendid health. + +Tom Thorpe sat at the table with a pile of books in front of him; his +shadow danced in the firelight, as if cruelly caricaturing the reality. + +He was deformed, hunchbacked, and slightly crippled as well, one leg +being oddly twisted inwards. + +He had an odd face too, with a very big forehead, and rough jet black +hair. He might have been taken for any age, having the sort of +countenance that looks as if it had never been young, and yet is slow to +grow old. In reality he was nearly forty. + +His eyes were a greenish hazel, with curiously big pupils--very +expressive eyes, that could be as soft as a woman's, though "softness" +was not Tom's ordinary characteristic. + +The mouth showed signs of pain endured silently and frequently; the +lines about it were deep, and the lips closed very tightly when he was +not talking. + +Seated at the other end of the table, engaged in eating her supper, +which she did with a kind of injured air, as if every mouthful were pain +and grief to her, was a prim middle-aged woman, with an appearance of +fretful, would-be gentility. + +When she had finished, she rose with a stifled sob and seemed about to +clear away, but Tom jumped, or rather hopped up, shut his book with a +bang of suppressed irritation, limped round the table with surprising +celerity, and took the plates out of her hands. + +"If you are sartain you don't want more, _I'll_ put 'em by," he said. + +"I couldn't eat! not with you reading all the time, and Cousin Thorpe +walking up and down like a wild beast in a cage," she murmured, with a +quiver in her voice. "It takes all the heart out of one's meal!" + +"But, my good soul, _you_ ain't obliged to read," said Tom, "and I'm +sure you are welcome to be as many hours over your supper as you like. +If you've done, I'll put 'em off the table." + +The corners of her mouth twitched downwards. "It never was cast up at me +before that I take longer than is fitting over my food," she said; "but +to see a person reading the whole of supper, with not a word to throw +at one, and never caring what he's eating, no more than if it was dust +and ashes, does break one's spirit; but if you think I consume more than +I am entitled to, Tom, or if----" + +"Look 'ee here!" cried Tom, "I never said nothing of the sort. Do you +think I count your mouthfuls? If you dare hint such a thing again, I'll +make you finish the ham before you go to bed." He caught it up by the +bone as he spoke, and waved it aloft. Mrs. Tremnell looked terrified; +she was always rather afraid of Tom, and could not have seen a joke to +save her life. She retreated hastily from the combat to a far-off +corner, where she produced a black silk workbag, and solaced her soul +with tatting. + +Tom put away the dishes, unwashed, with wonderful celerity, and buried +himself again in his studies. + +He rightly felt that if a woman were once allowed to have a hand in +their extremely untidy domestic arrangements, she would never rest till +she had revolutionised everything. + +"Dad an' I'd be tidied out o' the kitchen before we knew where we were," +he reflected; and poor Cousin Tremnell's desire after usefulness was +vigorously snubbed whenever it durst show itself. + +She sniffed over her work every now and then, and Tom glanced up +irritably, yet with a suspicion of a smile at the corners of his lips. +He was just opening his mouth to speak, this time with overtures of +peace, when there was a thundering knock at the outer door. + +"Who ever can it be at this time of night?" cried Mrs. Tremnell. And Mr. +Thorpe paused in his restless walk. + +"It's Barnabas!" cried Tom, his face lighting up. And he caught up his +sticks, and was in the hall unbolting the massive door before the others +had recovered from their surprise. + +They heard his joyful, "Why, lad, I thought it was you!" and then a +smothered exclamation of surprise. And then Barnabas came in, bringing a +whiff of icy air with him. + +The moisture was hanging from his beard, and dripping from his hat, +making little pools on the red bricks. But not even Mrs. Tremnell +noticed that; both she and Mr. Thorpe were staring in utter astonishment +at a third figure,--a slight pale woman, with hair cut short, and big +sad eyes, who followed him into the room silently. + +"Father, this is my wife," said Barnabas Thorpe. "I wrote you a letter +about her, but I doubt you never got it. It's a dirty night, and she's a +bit weary." + +There was a moment's silence; then the old farmer drew himself up, and +held out his hand to the stranger with a gentle dignity that would have +done credit to the finest gentleman in the land. + +"You are welcome, ma'am," he said. "Will you come to the fire and rest? +The storm's bad outside." + +He demanded no explanation then. It was his house, and she his guest--on +a night too when he wouldn't have shut out a dog,--that was enough for +the present. All the rest could wait. + +Cousin Tremnell burnt with curiosity; and so did the hunchback, who +looked dismayed as well; but neither of them durst ask anything. + +Cousin Tremnell, indeed, was too much "taken aback," as she would have +expressed it, to move; but Tom hopped across the room with the kettle, +and cast furtive glances at the woman who stood on the hearth slowly +unwinding a heavy shawl, which she let fall at last in a heap at her +feet. She was rather uncanny--like a spirit, or like one of the elves, +with golden hair and no backs to them, who dance on the marsh to the +destruction of the unwary, he thought. + +At the second glance he revised that impression: his shrewd eyes told +him that there was nothing of the temptress about this girl; she did not +look bad; she had never inveigled any one; but, good Lord! what a queer +wife to have! How tiny her hands were, and how still she stood; not +blushing, nor rolling her fingers in her apron, nor doing any of the +things women generally do when they are nervous; but only looking +gravely into the fire, and waiting patiently. He made the tea and cut +thick slices of bread and ham, and then addressed himself directly to +the stranger, being filled with great curiosity to hear her voice. + +"Will 'ee sit down with us?" he said; and looked inquiringly at his +brother, as though to ask whether this strange wife of his ate or drank +like ordinary mortals. + +Barnabas sat down with good appetite; his wife took her place beside +him, and Mr. Thorpe drew his chair to the table as a mark of respect to +his unexpected guest: he had had his own supper long before. + +Mrs. Tremnell brought her sewing up to the light, though she was too +flustered to work; and Tom hopped round the table offering Barnabas' +wife everything he could think of. + +On the whole, and considering the startling way in which Margaret had +been introduced into their midst, it was wonderful how well the Thorpes +behaved. + +Meg's own father could not have shown finer courtesy than did the +preacher's. + +She ate her supper with outward composure, if with some inward tremor. +Meg had seen so many strange scenes, and found herself in so many +strange places, since the day when she had shut the door for ever on the +old life, that she was not now so completely overcome by the position as +she might once have been. + +The preacher was too indifferent to other people's opinions to suffer +from embarrassment; and, though deeply attached to his home, he had, for +many a long year, held himself quite independent in the ordering of his +life. + +Meg noticed that he met his brother's eyes with the reassuring glance +that told of mutual understanding; but that he and his father had +apparently little in common. + +The old man's sharply chiselled and refined features, as well as his +gentler accent, surprised her; and she looked up gratefully when he +asked her about their journey. + +"You clip your words like a Londoner," he remarked smiling; but he +thought to himself that she was a pretty spoken lass anyhow. + +"I have always lived in London part of the year," said Meg. "We went out +of town in July." + +"Why?" asked Tom abruptly. + +Meg looked confused, and silence fell on them. + +"The upper circles vacate town at the close of the opera," said Cousin +Tremnell. She was privately wondering whether the stranger had been in +service, and rather hoped she had. She herself, driven by stress of +circumstances, had been maid in a very "good family" for some months. +She knew that the Thorpes looked down on her for it; and, while she felt +herself their superior in gentility and manners, she was yet not +strong-minded enough for her self-respect to be unruffled by their +opinion. + +"We've naught to do wi' upper circles, and doan't want to have," said +Tom. "I'm going to see about your room. Will 'ee come, lad?" + +He limped off with marvellous quickness. + +Barnabas pushed back his chair, and followed him. + +Mr. Thorpe got up too; and resumed the restless pace up and down that +had been broken into by his new daughter-in-law's advent. She sat +twisting the ring on her thin finger, and wondering whether the preacher +was telling the whole story now, and what his brother thought of it. As +it happened, she was not left long in doubt on that score. + +The tap of Tom's sticks sounded again along the stone passage; he was +talking eagerly; when he almost reached the door, she heard his final +dictum: "E--eh, lad! Now, I doan't know on my soul which was th' biggest +fule, you or she!" + + * * * * * + +So Meg was brought to Barnabas Thorpe's kin; and, sitting alone in her +room, looked over the wide marshes that were to become familiar to her; +and knew herself a stranger in a strange land. + +It was two months since she had become his wife in name; and the two +months' experience had made its mark on her,--a mark so deep that she +believed herself to be hardly recognisable--a different woman +altogether. + +Her face had sharpened in outline, and deepened in expression; the +girlish beauty of colour had faded, and she had cut off her abundant +soft hair. + +They had travelled from village to village, the girl sometimes walking, +sometimes getting a lift in passing carts, never owning to weariness, or +pain, or discomfort; but living, apparently, on the preacher's +preaching. + +Her zeal had outstripped his, burning like a devouring flame. She had +sung at meetings; she had gone with him everywhere unshrinkingly; she +had given away the very food she should have eaten. And the man had +watched her; first with amazement, then with an overgrowing sense of +uneasiness; never quite understanding what revelations of good and evil +he had brought her face to face with, or how desperately she was +clinging to her religious faith, as a child, frightened in the dark, +clings to its father's hand. + +Meg had been not only innocent, but more ignorant of some phases of evil +than would have been possible in a woman of the preacher's own class. +Her brain had nearly reeled with the shock of new experiences; her +horror at much she had seen and heard had often kept her awake when her +body was tired out; and when she slept, her sleep had been haunted with +dreams that exhausted her as much as wakefulness. The supernatural grew +very real to her then; she was happy only when Barnabas was praying or +preaching; she was feverishly eager, growing bigger eyed and thinner day +by day. + +As for her companion, he had made up his mind to do his best for the +lass, who was his wife in name only, and whom he had thought to take +through the world, guarding her as he would have guarded a younger +sister; but, as day followed day, and week succeeded week, the "doing +for her" cost him more--both in heart and mind; and, even in pocket! + +He was a clever workman; and, though nothing would have induced him to +take money for his faith healing, he had fewer scruples where his knack +of bone setting was concerned. + +He gave Margaret every comfort he could think of, but became more and +more uneasily conscious with the flight of time that the physical +hardships of her life were telling on her, and that he did not know how +to prevent it; that there was something unnatural about her fervour, +but that that, too, was beyond him. + +He had got into a habit of watching her, and of taking note of her ways, +silently as a rule, because, being accustomed to solitude, he was a +silent man in ordinary intercourse. + +For any thought he took for her she thanked him, with a gentle +graciousness that was inherited from her father; but which seemed to her +companion to belong only to this girl, and to have the curious quality +of making his heart beat faster. + +He was disconcerted when she cut off her hair; and she was surprised +that he should even notice the loss. She was apt to be surprised in +those days if Barnabas behaved like an ordinary mortal. + +Then a change had come over them both--a strain in their relations, ever +tightening, impossible to break through, impalpable, and, finally, +unbearable. + +The woman was aware of it first, and tried to ignore it. She sang, and +prayed, and worked with even increased ardour. She was over-taxing her +poor body, that was so unequally yoked; and she knew, and rather +rejoiced at the fact. + +Possibly, at the bottom of her heart, she felt that _that_ was one way +of escape from a difficulty that lay in wait for her, unfaced as yet, +and "impossible". + +It had been in the evening, after a long day's walk, that the difficulty +had stalked boldly out of its corner. + +They had arrived late at an inn; and Meg, too tired to eat, had exerted +herself to amuse a fretful child, who was sitting beside her on a bench. + +She seldom spoke to strangers, but, at that moment, she had experienced +a sudden and almost overpowering distaste for her surroundings. The hot, +tobacco-reeking room, the smell of food, the noise every one made in +eating, the way the men spat on the floor, and the way the woman next +her laughed, affected her with a physical loathing. She fought +desperately against the sensation, having a nervous fear that, should +she once stop talking, and let herself go, she might break down +altogether. Her cheeks flushed with the heat of the room, her eyes shone +like stars, and her tongue went faster and faster. The child stared at +her, open-mouthed; the child's mother looked at her rather +inquisitively; but the father, a young mechanic, put down his knife and +fork, and tried to draw the stranger's attention to himself. + +All at once Meg was startled by the preacher's pushing back his chair +noisily, and putting a hand on her shoulder. + +"If ye can't eat, there's no call for 'ee to stop here chattering. Ye'd +better go upstairs," he said. + +His voice sounded a little thick, and his face was flushed, though he +never drank anything but water. + +Meg turned and looked at him in utter astonishment; then rose and left +them without a word. + +It had been nothing to speak of, nothing to make a fuss about, yet when +she had found herself alone in the tiny room upstairs that he had taken +for her, she had hidden her face in her hands with an indescribable +feeling of shame. + +"What right had this man to speak so to her,--to look at her as if he +were jealous? He might, in his capacity of preacher, have reproved her +for breaking any law in the decalogue, and she would not have been +angry; but this was quite different." + +Alas! it did not bear thinking of. She had given him "right" enough! + +She had felt she could not sit still; the restlessness that had been +growing on her had made anything more bearable than the quiet of her +room. She had put on her bonnet, and gone down again almost immediately. + +She had found Barnabas leaning against the porch outside; he had heard +or felt her approach, and turned the moment she had joined him. Voices +from the inn had assailed their ears, in a gust of sound with the +opening of the door; and then they had been alone, wrapped in the sweet +solemn night, and Meg's anger and shame had died. After all, they two +were pilgrims together, through a tumultuous and alien world, and she +had been foolish to have been so disturbed. It had always been +wonderfully easy to Meg to look at things from a purely spiritual point +of view. + +"Are you going out again?" she had asked him; and he had answered, with +some constraint, that he was going to catch the lads coming out of the +factory in the town, pointing to where the lights of Nottingham twinkled +in the distance. + +"Then I'll come too," Meg had said. "I can start the singing if you want +it; and I always like to hear you speak." + +But, for the first time since she had known him, he had refused her +companionship, speaking still with the same constrained tone, and +without looking at her. + +"Ye are just killing yourself, lass; I canna let you do that." + +The girl had evinced much the same half-reproachful wonder that she had +shown when he had objected to the cutting off of her hair. + +"If I am of any service at all," she had said, "you, of all men, should +not try to stop me." And at that, the man had stood upright with a laugh +and a quick passionate gesture, as if he would have stretched out his +arms to her. + +"I, of all men! I, of all men!" he had cried. "Lass, do ye suppose I am +no' of flesh and blood, like the others? The Lord has angels enough; let +_me_ ha' the woman by my side; I of all men shouldna stay ye. Come then +an' ye want to, Margaret!" And Meg, aghast, had stood for one moment +with frightened eyes; then had turned and fled. + +He had wakened her with a rough shock, and had brought her back to an +earth that was no longer only "the road to Heaven". + +It was a natural thing enough that had befallen the strange pair; only +Meg, with her eyes fixed on the stars, had never dreamed of its +possibility, and her heart had sunk. + +The next morning the preacher had met her with recovered self-command. + +"I spoke to ye as I shouldna have," he had said gravely. "An' I am +'shamed to ha' done it; an' yet it was truth, lass, that it isna +possible to go on as we are. I canna stand by an' see ye get thinner an' +weaker afore my eyes. Will ye let me take ye to my own home an' leave ye +for a spell wi' my own people? Happen ye'll grow stronger at th' farm +an' piece on your life again." + +And Meg had acquiesced. She would do as he liked, though he had fallen +from his pinnacle and was no more an inspired prophet; for what else +could she do? + +"To piece on her life" would be a puzzling and difficult thing, far more +confusing than to take the kingdom of Heaven by storm, and die of +over-work and under-feeding, like a saint; but she had no choice. + +While she sat at her window, her thoughts flew back over all that had +happened, till the remembrance of Tom Thorpe's remark came as a sort of +anti-climax to the painful gravity of her thoughts, and Meg laughed +softly in the darkness. + +"Which _was_ the bigger fule?" + +Well! if she had been that, there was no need to be a coward as well. +The girl straightened herself with a touch of pride and determination +that was a good sign. "I cut one knot--I'll untie the next," she said; +"and live it out as best I can!" + + + + +CHAPTER III. + + +But the living out was difficult. + +Meg awoke at the farm. After the strange and wonderful journey by the +side of the preacher; after the days of wandering over hill and dale, +with exhausted body, but with mind so fixed on the vision beautiful, +that she would not have been surprised at any moment had the clouds +parted, and the second coming of the Lord blazed forth; after that +curious "intoxication" of the soul that such natures as hers seem liable +to,--she "came to herself" in the old house among those northern +marshes, and tried, a little desperately, to meet the demands of a lot +she had not been born to. + +The loneliness was all on her side; for to the Thorpes the advent of +Barnabas' wife was, perhaps, on the whole a not unwelcome piece of +excitement. + +In the winter the road across the marshes was all but impassable for +months together. Often from November till February the little stronghold +which the first Thorpe had wrested, and his successors kept, from the +devils of desolation, was left to its own resources. + +The family characteristics had probably been fostered by the +circumstances of their life; they were sufficient to themselves. + +There were Thorpes; there were--but some way behind them--their fellow +country, or rather county-men; and then there was the rest of the world. +Weak-knee'd outsiders, with bad constitutions and "queer ways" and +indifferent morals. The preacher's wife was not even north country; she +was, in fact, almost a "foreigner". + +Poor little "outsider," thrust down in their midst to take root in a +strange soil, if she could; or to shrivel and droop with +starvation!--which would she do? + +"The best thing for the lass 'ud be to pack her in cotton wool, and send +her back to her own kind," Tom Thorpe had declared. But the boats were +burnt, and the going back was impossible! + +On the whole, of all her new relatives, Tom alarmed Meg most; but +"Cousin Tremnell" was the member of the family she liked least. + +The prim little woman, with plaintive voice and sharp curiosity, with +uneasy pretensions to "gentility" and small affectations, seemed more +hopelessly out of touch with her than were her husband's rougher +kinsmen. Cousin Tremnell asked questions with the eagerness of a born +gossip, who had been starving for dearth of any subject more personal +than "crops" and "horses"; and Meg shrank from her inquiries as if they +were so many small stabs. + +"It is not becoming for you to be sitting in the kitchen, ma'am," she +had said on the morning after Meg's arrival, and had forthwith conducted +her into the best parlour, which was the one ugly room in the house, +with its carpet beflowered with magenta roses; its gauze-swathed frames, +and bunches of worsted convolvuli under shades. + +Mrs. Tremnell brought out her work, and settled herself down to see what +she could "get out" of this extraordinary cousin-in-law, towards whom +her feelings were at present rather mixed. It was something to have a +connection who had been one of the Deanes of Kent; but what a degenerate +Deane she must be! Mrs. Russelthorpe herself could not have had a +keener sense of Meg's degradation. + +"How could she ever have done such a thing?" Mrs. Tremnell kept +repeating to herself, with little mental gasps and notes of +interrogation; and the burden of her thoughts was embarrassingly +apparent, even though something in the stranger's manner, a shy dignity +that Mrs. Tremnell durst not quite outrage, prevented her from asking +the question point blank. + +"It must seem very strange to you here, ma'am," she said tentatively. +"Of course, it can't be what you were accustomed to. _I_ find my +cousin's ways rough myself--not meaning no comparison to what _your_ +sensations must be. I understand you was brought up in a different +station altogether." + +"I have been in many rougher places than this," said Meg; "and the past +is quite dead." + +Mrs. Tremnell's eyes fairly twinkled with eagerness. The preacher's wife +was "very peculiar-looking," she said to herself, glancing at Meg's +short curls and shabby dress; but there was no doubt that she was a +lady, and the lady's "past" possessed a wonderful fascination. + +"Is your honoured father still alive?" she ventured; and the colour +rushed to Meg's cheeks. + +"Oh yes--I--I hope so!" the girl cried. But the idea that he might be +dead and buried, for all she knew or would ever know about him, suddenly +made her heart contract with a sharp spasm of fear. + +She made a hasty effort to draw "Cousin Tremnell" away from the subject; +and, asking questions in her turn, elicited a stream of information +about the Thorpes in general, and Barnabas Thorpe in particular, a +stream which was only checked by occasional little flights back to "the +Deanes," whose very name seemed to attract Cousin Tremnell as honey +attracts a bee. + +It was curious to hear Barnabas spoken of familiarly; curious how the +man's individuality was becoming stronger and the prophet's fainter to +his wife's unwilling eyes. + +"The Thorpes are all as sure as sure of everything," said Cousin +Tremnell. "_I_ take after my father's side myself, and he was a +gentle-spoken man, and quite different; it was my mother was a Thorpe. +And my dear husband was south country. I never saw much of Cousin Thorpe +till after I was left a widow. Then, when my daughter was growing up, +Barnabas used to be a deal over at L----, where we lived; but Tom and +Lydia could never abide each other. I shouldn't have believed that I +could ever come and live here then, nor that Tom Thorpe would ask me to; +but blood is thicker than water, and I must allow that Tom's always +kind, if one's in trouble. I was ill this spring, and I was sitting by +myself, for I hadn't cared to have folks about since--since she left me, +when Tom Thorpe walked in quite unexpected. I had got that weak and +nervous--for living alone never suited me--that I fairly screamed when +he opened the door. 'Now, you come along back with me, cousin,' says he; +'for I can't leave you here to think of your own funeral all the day.' +And I hadn't the heart to say no, though I am half sorry now I didn't. I +was that lonesome, you see; and a man does give one a feeling of +support, especially if the man's Tom or Barnabas. Barnabas was the one I +liked best as a lad, and, to be sure, I thought he would never +forget--but there! it's nearly sixteen years ago now, since he was +courting my poor Lydia." + +Her voice dropped to a reverently lowered tone when she spoke of her +daughter. The shadow of her grief momentarily dignified her pinched and +rather fretful face; and Meg, who had been listening listlessly, looked +up with awakened interest. + +"Did she like him?" asked the preacher's wife shyly. Her quick fancy +pictured the pretty girl, whom Barnabas had loved when a boy; and her +sympathy was moved at once by the mother's sorrow. + +Mrs. Tremnell, however, seemed half offended at the question. + +"Oh, as for that, Lydia had plenty to admire her without Barnabas," she +said. + +And Meg could not guess how the little woman's sore heart was hurt, +because the preacher's was healed; no one but her mother mourned for her +pretty Lydia now. + +"When he was a boy he would run the twelve miles from here to the town +to get a talk with her; for all he was sure of a thrashing from Tom for +playing truant when he got back," she went on. "But that's long past, +and forgotten; and, perhaps, I shouldn't even have alluded to it to +_you_, ma'am." + +"Why not to me?" asked the girl; and then coloured, and laughed +nervously when Cousin Tremnell's meaning dawned on her. + +"To be sure, he is another man altogether since his conversion, and I +hear the miracles he does is wonderful; though I do hope you'll persuade +him to lay by and take money for his cures, now that he has got a wife +and may have children," continued the plaintive voice, which was touched +with asperity now. "He might make a very good thing of it, and people +would think a deal more of him if they had to pay. Indeed, with your +connection with the aristocracy, which is far beyond what he might have +expected, I don't see why he shouldn't start a regular business. It was +a sister of yours that married Lord Doran, was it not, ma'am?" + +"Oh, _won't_ you understand?" cried Meg, with sudden energy. "That is +all done with--I--I--don't think about it." + +"I beg your pardon, I am sure, ma'am; I was not aware that I had said +anything amiss," said Cousin Tremnell huffily. And to herself she +remarked that Barnabas had gone far to fare badly. + +Meg went for a solitary walk in the marshes after that, and tried to +sort and adjust her ideas and to "lay" decently several ghosts Cousin +Tremnell had brought out of their graves. They had never, perhaps, been +so entirely buried as she had fancied. + +The incidents of that first day at the farm always remained in her +memory, standing out from the many rather monotonous days that followed; +not that they were remarkable in themselves, but because first +impressions are cut sharp and clear as with a new die. + +She came in after the mid-day meal had begun. The two or three farm +labourers who ate in the same room, though at the other end of the long +wooden table, turned round to stare at her with a stolid and deliberate +stare. Tom Thorpe remarked that she was late, and they had "nigh done," +though more by way of something to say than as a rebuke; and then, in +the middle of the meal, "Foolish Timothy" lounged in, and effectually +robbed her of her appetite. + +The idiot shambled up to the table, and sat down beside her unasked, but +unrebuked; and Meg could not repress a shudder of disgust. + +The man's coarse loose mouth, and cunning shifty eyes, with their +furtive sidelong glances, were unspeakably repulsive to her; and +Timothy, unfortunately, saw the shiver, and hated her on the spot with +the malicious, easily roused hate of a low nature. He was one of those +ill-conditioned fools who have just cunning enough to pretend to be +rather more idiotic than they are, when it suits their convenience; he +lived on the kindness of the countryside, and lived well, occasionally +repaying hospitality by buffoonery of a somewhat profane kind; but, at +the Thorpes, he was generally on his good behaviour. + +"What's wrong wi' ye?" Tom suddenly asked his sister-in-law. "Isn't the +food to your liking, or aren't you hungry?" + +"Yes, thank you, quite--I mean it's very nice," stammered Meg; but some +fascination made her look at the creature by her side, who was +contorting his face into sudden, hideous grimaces whenever he could +catch her eyes unobserved by his host. + +"What's the good o' telling lies?" said Tom. "It's plain ye can't eat +that; and we all know ye've not been used to fare like us. Here, +Timothy, make yourself useful, and fetch an egg from the barn; happen +she'll relish it better." + +"Oh no, please don't!" cried Meg, who felt that she could not for the +life of her taste anything that Timothy had touched. "The pie is very +good, but I have had plenty." + +Tom frowned impatiently. "My good girl, _that_ you've not," he said. "I +am not going to force food down your throat if you don't want it; but +why you persist in saying you like it when you can't swallow half a +mouthful, goodness knows. Lord bless us! I am proud of our cooking, as +Cousin Tremnell 'ull tell you; but I don't make a meal off the people +who don't agree wi' me. Hands off, Timothy! Where are your manners?" For +Timothy had surreptitiously stretched out a long-nailed, dirty hand +towards the food in Meg's plate. She jumped up with a start at the touch +of the idiot, and with a hastily murmured excuse fled from the kitchen. +Tom Thorpe gave vent to a long, low whistle. + +"It's a pretty business," he remarked; "an' the hottest water Barnabas +has ever got into. What had he to do wi' a fine lady, as can't even sit +down to table by us?" + +"I must say the way she has been trapesing about the country half the +morning isn't much like a lady," said Cousin Tremnell. + +"Well, I've done. Ye may tell her I've gone out. So she can come and +pick up a few more crumbs in peace," he said good-naturedly. "An', I +say, cousin, ye might tell her I am not such an ogre as I look, eh? The +fact is, I've got so used to myself living here alone wi' dad, that I +don't think how I scare other people, unless a stranger comes to show +me." + +But Cousin Tremnell was still huffy, and didn't see that she had any +call to "run after Mrs. Thorpe". + +It was not a remarkably good beginning; and the preacher's wife felt +much ashamed when she had recovered from her sudden horror. + +She took herself to task for her disgust, as if it had been a crime, but +could not prevail upon herself to return to the kitchen. Tom's deformity +did not cause her the least repulsion; it was as it were accidental, and +the man himself inspired her with respect; but Timothy seemed to her +like some horrible brute, whose very likeness to humanity made him the +more repulsive. + +She sat down on the wide sill of the staircase window, and tried to +forget the troublesome details of this rough-edged life, the while her +eyes rested on the reed beds bowing in the wind, and the low grey sky, +where a buzzard hung poised. + +Thus seated, she clenched her hands; and, presently, began to sing very +softly to herself, to the tune of an old Roundhead battle hymn. The +inspiration of hard fighting was in it, and it did her good. + +In the middle of a bar, she became aware that some one was listening; +and, turning round, saw Mr. Thorpe standing on the stair above her. + +The old man looked worn and tired; but smiled, and spoke to her with a +rather melancholy gentleness that won her heart. + +"Ye've a very sweet voice, lassie," he said. "Are ye for driving the old +enemy away with it? Ye were singing as if ye were leading a forlorn +hope. Ye had better not stop till ye've routed him." + +The girl looked wonderingly for a moment; and then her heart went out to +him with instinctive womanly sympathy. "I can sing as long as ever you +please," she said; and she sang on with gathering courage, till the dusk +began to creep over the landscape, and the shadows broadened on the +stairs, and her voice failed from weariness. + +She slid down from her place, warmed and cheered by a sense of +comradeship, and stood beside him as he thanked her. The preacher's wife +became wonderfully clever, as time went on, in foreseeing and warding +off the black fits of depression that laid hold on the man; but, on that +first evening, he had helped her, as a stronger and more cheerful spirit +never could have. + +"I am ashamed to go back to the kitchen," she said shyly; "I was so +silly at dinner-time." + +"An' so ye are Barnabas' wife!" he answered irrelevantly. "Well, well, +it's no wonder ye feel a bit strange; but ye have driven the devil back. +Come along wi' me, lass." And they went down together. + +The preacher came home in the evening; he had been out all day. His eyes +turned at once to the chimney corner, where Meg was sitting with her +head bent down, fondling a kitten on the hearth. + +"How is dad?" he asked of Tom, who hopped into the room with a +tablecloth, which was entirely for their guest's benefit, under his arm. + +"All right," said Tom. "Thanks to your wife, she's witched away the +blues this time, and I thought we were in for a spell of 'em. I'll +forgive ye for having the bad taste not to like me, if ye can cheer up +dad;" turning round on Meg. "But what are we to call ye? Ye can't allus +be 'Barnabas' wife!'" + +"My name is Margaret," said Meg slowly. "I suppose that is what you had +better call me." + +"Oh, not if you don't like it," cried Tom, who perceived with wonderful +quickness the "unwilling" inflection in her voice. "I'd not call any +woman by her name against her will. Ye needn't think it. Will 'ee sit +down to supper with us, Barnabas' wife, or would ye liefer stay at a +safe distance till we've quite done, eh?" + +"Doan't ye heed him; he talks a deal o' nonsense by times," said +Barnabas. And Meg was rather thankful for once to have his broad +shoulders between herself and Tom's over sharp-sighted eyes. + +And so the first day at the farm came to an end, and in the course of +the many that followed the stranger settled down among the Thorpes, even +if she didn't take root, and still remained more or less strange. + +She grew fond of Mr. Thorpe, who pitied the "little lady" from his +heart. She was uneasily conscious of Tom's shrewd observation, which was +uncomfortably keen to live with; and she saw very little of the man who +had been her daily companion for the last three months. + +The preacher seldom came in till late, and then exchanged few words with +her. There had been nothing like a quarrel between them, and Meg had the +most absolute trust in him; nevertheless, she breathed more freely when +he was not present, sitting on the bench in the kitchen netting or +carving silently, and looking at her every now and then with a look that +haunted her. + +She had been some weeks at the farm, when, one day, something occurred +to break the surface calm that seemed to have settled on them, and +frightened her with a glimpse of the Thorpe temper that Mrs. Tremnell +had talked about, and of something else as well, which she was unwilling +enough to reckon with. + +Barnabas Thorpe had been away for several days, and was striking home +across the flats. He quickened his pace on nearing the farm. The dull +ache of anxiety he constantly felt when absent, had changed to a sharper +excitement that made his pulses beat fast, when suddenly the faint echo +of a scream caught his ear, and with a shout that rang out over the +snow-covered marsh, he ran at full speed towards the farm. + +Tom, seeing him in the distance, and wondering at the headlong rush, +followed him as fast as his lame foot would allow, and arrived five +minutes after him panting and curious. + +By that time the preacher was standing in the middle of the kitchen with +the fingers of his left hand twisted in "Foolish Timothy's" collar, and +his right arm raised in the act of striking. Timothy was howling like a +wild beast, and livid with mingled rage and fright and pain; the weight +of Barnabas Thorpe's arm was not light, and he did all things with a +superabundant amount of energy. Barnabas' wife was standing in a corner +with a face as white as the snow outside. + +"I say," said Tom, "whatever Tim's been doing, I think ye'd better put +off the rest o' that thrashin' till your wife's out o' the way." + +Meg found her voice at the same instant. "Oh do let him go--I only want +him to go!" she cried. And the preacher let his arm drop at the sound of +her voice. + +"All right, I won't hit him again. You needn't look at me like that. +He's not half so much hurt as he deserves," he said. And then, half +twisting the idiot round with a turn of his strong wrist, he spoke +between his teeth. + +"If I gave you your deservings," he said, "I'd thrash you till you +hadn't a whole bone left. I can't do that now; not that it wouldn't do +you good, but it's against my calling. You'll get off a deal too easy; +but if ever I catch you frightening my wife or any other woman again, +I'll take it it 'ull be my duty to pay ye with interest; and I swear you +shall have enough to last your life. Off wi' ye! and don't let's see +your face under this roof again." + +With that, he loosened his grasp; and Timothy, choking, made for the +door. Before passing through it, he turned and shook his fist at +Barnabas. + +"I'll be even with you and your fine wife yet!" he cried. "Curse you +both! Bad luck is on your scent, Barnabas! She always follows them as +lays hands on me; and you've tempted her before. You've taken to wife a +maid as wasn't born for the likes of you or yours, and every drop of +blood in her body shrinks from you. She's pining after her own people +already, and she'll go back to them and leave you to whistle for her. +She's theirs, not yours! and if ye try to hold her she'll hate you. You +can force man to obey you, but you can't make a woman cleave to you. +She'll leave you, I say, and there'll be worse to follow. I'll live to +see you brought low, and----" + +"Clear out!" said Tom. "Or ye'll sartainly live to see yourself 'brought +low' in half a second." And Timothy fled; but the brothers looked at +each other with foreboding in their faces. Neither of them was above +superstition. + +"It is terrible unlucky," said Tom, "to lay a hand on such as him. I +wish ye hadn't, lad!" + +"He may think himself fortunate. I'd not ha' dealt so gently by him +once," said the preacher grimly. "But," with a sudden change of tone, +"I've scared my poor lass nigh as much as that varmin did!" + +He turned to Meg, who was still standing with a blanched face in the +corner. "How came it ye were alone wi' him?" he asked. + +"Mrs. Tremnell and your father have gone into town to-day," said Meg, +trying rather vainly to steady her voice. "Tom thought I was with them, +but my head ached, and I stayed behind. I didn't come down to dinner +because Timothy was there; but, after dinner, I heard him go out with +Tom, and thought it was quite safe. He crept back when I was alone in +the kitchen." She shuddered, and Barnabas clenched his hand +unconsciously. + +"Do you mean to say ye had ever reason to be scared of him before?" he +asked thickly. + +"It was chiefly my silliness before," said Meg. "He only made faces at +me and tried to pinch me one day when Tom's back was turned; but, of +course, I knew he hadn't all his wits, and I didn't like to make a fuss. +Oh, Barnabas, _please_ don't go on talking about it; let's forget." + +"I am sorry, lad," said Tom, who was watching his brother curiously. +"Aren't you wishin' you were unconverted an' free to wring his neck? +But," with a swift wheel round, "doan't ye think ye really were a little +fool not to ha' told me, Barnabas' wife? Ye might ha' known, by this +time, tha' I'd not ha' let that scamp bother you." + +"I thought you would say I was behaving like a fine lady, and fancying +myself different from the rest of you," said Meg. + +And Tom laughed loudly. "There wouldn't be much fancy needed," said he. + +The episode seemed, by the very fact of its having stirred their +emotions, to have brought the woman's aliency into stronger relief. She +looked longingly at the door, and made a step towards it, when Barnabas +interposed. + +"I'll leave ye in peace in a moment, Margaret," he said; "but afore I +go, will 'ee promise me one thing? Will ye tell Tom next time if aught +troubles ye while I am away? or I'll have no rest for thinking some'ut +may be wrong with 'ee." + +He spoke insistently, and Meg hesitated for an appreciable second; then +shook her head, the colour coming back to her cheek with a rush: she had +already promised this man more than she could perform. + +"I would rather not promise," she said. "I might not want to. If you say +I must, I will, because you have a right, I suppose; but I would rather +not." + +Tom grunted impatiently; Barnabas picked up the stick he had broken +across Timothy's shoulders and turned away. + +"Do as ye choose; it'll be a bad day for us both when I take to saying +ye must do a thing because I've a right," he answered. + +The moment the door had closed upon his brother Tom swore. + +"Do 'ee want him made o' ice?" he said. "Why didn't ye give him a word +or a kiss, lass? Barnabas has no end of patience with ye. If ye were my +wife----" + +"What would you do?" said Meg, looking up with a sudden flash in her +grey eyes. "Beat me? I have seen husbands do that; it generally answers, +I suppose, if they go on long enough." + +"Hullo! we've struck a bit o' fire this time. Thank the Lord for that!" +said Tom. "But ye've a nice opinion of us, haven't ye? Well, there's no +knowing what atrocities I mightn't ha' gone in for, if a merciful +Providence hadn't made it clear impossible for me to marry." + +Nevertheless, when Meg came down the next day looking whiter and shyer +than usual, he held out his hand to her with a kindly twinkle in his +eyes. "Ye'd much better be friends wi' me, Barnabas' wife," he said. +"Happen ye'll improve our manners in time." + +"I oughtn't to have been angry," said Meg quickly; for she was at least +as susceptible to kindness as to unkindness. "I was all wrong, and one +ought to obey one's husband." + +"Oh! ye do plenty o' _that_," cried Tom. "Lord love ye, my dear, if ye +obeyed him a bit less, an' liked him a bit more, Barnabas 'ud not +quarrel wi' the change, and he might bide at home a spell." + +Which last suggestion made Meg feel sick at heart, with a half +self-reproachful, wholly miserable sensation, that fairly frightened her +at times. + +She went with the preacher that afternoon to a tiny hamlet, some miles +off. She had not accompanied him of late, and it was strange to find +herself alone with him again. + +The marshes were still snow-covered in parts; the last vestige of green +was frozen away, the ground lay stretched in drab and grey; save where, +here and there, a salt-water pool showed black against the snow. + +The preacher was on his way to baptise a child that had been born in one +of a cluster of wooden huts, that were planted like brown mushrooms +under the scant shelter of a group of alders. + +His feet and Margaret's made a track all the way from the farm; and the +girl kept glancing back at the double row of footprints, as though they +had a fascination for her. + +It struck Meg that the baptism was regarded as a sort of lucky charm, or +incantation; but, when Barnabas stood outside the huts to preach, there +was no doubt that, as usual, he carried his hearers with him. + +Meg stood a little apart and watched him with new eyes. + +She had thought of the message, not of the messenger, when she had first +fallen under the spell of his enthusiasm. She tried now--and she found +it strangely difficult--to keep possession of her soul; to stand aloof +mentally, as well as actually, and to look on. + +The man's reddish hair and beard and sunburnt face made a spot of colour +in the leaden grey landscape; his vigorous personality was in strong +contrast to the impersonal solemnity of the marsh. And his religion was +personal too; it was the passionate uncalculating loyalty of one who has +seen his God in the Man of Sorrows, and cannot rest for following those +blood-stained footsteps that have drawn so many after them, and have +left so deep a print in the world's history. + +The half-dozen men and women who surrounded Barnabas were of as low a +type as Margaret had ever seen; a wizened, stunted race, dwarfed by +marsh fever and unhealthy living. But more than one of them were moved +to tears, at the words they heard. How much did they really understand +of his discourse? and how much was due to the curiously overpowering +and personal influence that Barnabas possessed? This power "from the +Lord,"--was it indeed from the Lord? or would he have wielded it, +whether "converted" or not, purely by reason of his undoubting decision, +and splendid physical strength? What had turned his life into this +channel? and what--her eyes turned again to the double line across the +snow--O God, what was to come of it all, in the many years before them? + +It was bitterly cold, and the grey mists clung around them on their walk +home. + +Born and bred in the marshes, the preacher knew his way blindfolded, but +the pathless expanse had something awe-inspiring in it. Meg reflected +aloud that strangers might be drowned in a salt pool, and be never heard +of more, if left guideless. + +"The wild ducks would scream over one, and there would be the end of +everything!" she remarked. + +"Dunnot say it, lass! Ye'll not be wandering alone here when I'm not by, +will 'ee?" cried the preacher, with a ring of pain in his voice; and her +reassurances seemed barely to satisfy him. Timothy had filled him with +forebodings, though he had also brought matters to a climax. + +It was partly to turn the subject that Meg asked him one of the +questions that had filled her mind during his preaching. + +The preacher reddened, so that, under all the sunburn, she could see the +flush mount to his forehead. + +"There are things it goes against a man to talk about," he said. "My +Master knows where He found me." But, after a few minutes, he added +wistfully: "But an' ye care to hear, Margaret, I'd tell ye anything". + +The story came out rather jerkily then, while they struggled against the +wind. Meg, seeing the effort the telling caused, was sorry she had +asked; was touched, too, with a painful feeling of compunction at the +eagerness of his desire to more than meet hers. + +Every now and then his speech was blown away from her; and once, when +she lifted her face to listen, he paused a moment and said, with rather +a sad smile: "But ye'll not understand it all, Margaret, any more than +the snowflakes would". The snow was resting on her black hood at the +time. + +"When I was a boy, dad couldn't bear the sight o' me," he continued, +stating the fact with an outspoken simplicity that was characteristic. + +"It made him a bit sour to see me straight and hale, when Tom, as was +worth a dozen o' me, was bent like a crooked stick. That was why I took +to going over to Cousin Tremnell's whenever I could. + +"Tom was keen on my getting schooling, though, and sent me over the +marshes an' back every day, till I was too big a lad for any man to +send. I wasn't fond o' learning, nor ain't now. It seems to me people +stuff their minds too much wi' other men's thoughts. God's truth can't +shine through the tangle, and they doan't give their own souls the room +to stretch in. I cut the books and ran away to sea, when I was sixteen, +wi' a cargo of oranges. + +"It were after I came back fro' my first voyage that I fell in love wi' +Cousin Tremnell's girl." + +"I know," said Meg softly. "Cousin Tremnell told me." + +There was a long pause; then: "She ran away to another man," he said +shortly. "An' I followed, being wistful to kill him, an' mad wi' the +longing for her. He had come fro' London, I knew; so I went there an' +walked about the streets looking for her all the day long; an' times I +would strangle her an' I met her, an' times I would kiss her; but either +way, he shouldna hold her ever again, nor should any other maid be th' +worse for him. I hankered so after the open flats when I was hemmed in +by that cursed town, that I used to wake mysel' o' nights fighting wi' +the wall o' my room thinking an' I could knock it down I'd see God's +world again the other side. I made my knuckles bleed, but the others +thought it war drink, an' didn't interfere. + +"It was like a nightmare, a horrible hell! But I'll go back there yet; +there are souls to save there too; an' the Master is there: ay, even i' +the lowest depth. It's a fearfu' place, Margaret; the very air o' London +is foul wi' their iniquity; I was sick wi' the taste an' smell o' it. +Well, I traced her at last, and found her dead; I saw her coffin. + +"They buried her in a great waste o' graves; I disremember what they +call it. I hid among the stones, being possessed like the man i' the +Bible, and scared lest they should take me away; and after they shut the +gates I crept out an' sat by the side of her. + +"The soft slush o' mud hardened to ice in the night; but I was hot, not +cold, an' I wondered whether she couldna feel me through all the +new-turned-up earth. It seemed as if she must. I bided all through the +darkness, for she were always scared o' being alone at dusk; an' when +the day broke, I saw the Lord. He came in the early morning, walking +over the mounds. + +"At first I didna know Him. He was dim like a shadow, through the orange +fog; but He called me by name, 'Barnabas, Barnabas!' and my soul leaped +up; an' He came nearer an' stood by her grave, an' touched me; and the +devil went out o' me; and I got up to follow Him, and to call all who I +met to follow Him, who is the very God, till the day when I see Him +again." + +The preacher's breath came quickly while he told the story. It was real +to him, as the ground he trod on; no one could listen to it and doubt +that. + +But, after a moment, he recovered himself and looked at her with a +kindly smile. + +"No one knows this but Him and you," he said. "Nor ever will! I told ye, +because ye asked me, my lass; but doan't ye look sad; it war sixteen +years ago, an' it war worth the pain." + +The tears stood in his companion's eyes; she was both touched and +puzzled. + +"But it wasna to tell ye _that_ that I wanted ye to come wi' me to-day," +he went on, after a pause. "I've summat else to say to 'ee, Margaret." + +He looked away from her over the marshes, and his voice took the tone of +dogged resolution that Meg was beginning to recognise. + +"I'm going to leave you here and tramp to Lupcombe, an' happen I shall +be away some months. They've got the black fever there, and I doubt +they'll have a pretty bad bout. There was three houses struck last week, +an' the game's only just beginning. I've fought wi' that fever once +before, an' happen I'll be some help. The doctor was the very first +down, an' the scare's terrible. I'm going to start this evening when +I've seen ye home. I canna bear ye to be out o' earshot since that +rascal----Margaret," and his voice changed, "it's just all I can do to +leave ye!" + +"Shall I come with you?" said Meg in a low voice. "I'm not afraid of any +fever. Would you like me to come?" + +"Are ye glad or sorry I'm going?" said the man suddenly. He put his +hands on her shoulders and looked for a moment into her face. + +"No," he said; "ye shan't come. God forgi'e me! but that 'ud be more nor +I could stand. Look now, I want to give ye what I've saved. Here! I wish +it was more, my girl; but anyhow, ye'll be beholden to no one wi' that; +it 'ull more nor pay dad for your keep. Hold out your hands, lass," and +he held the money out to her. + +"Oh, Barnabas, it's all wrong!" cried the girl sadly. "I wouldn't take +it if I could help it." + +"Ye needn't grudge me the working for 'ee," he said; "I think I'd go mad +if I couldn't do that much. I'll try and save more next year. I never +have before, not thinking as I was one to marry, or to hanker after any +woman." He stood still, they were just in sight of the farm, and held +out his hand as if that were the natural ending of his statement. + +"At least, I'll not fash ye," he said. "I canna bide here unless ye'll +like me better. The best thing I can do for 'ee now is to leave ye; but +take care o' yourself, since I'm no' to take care for 'ee; take double +care, my lass." + +"You need not be afraid," said Meg. "Nothing is in the least likely to +happen to me. It is those whose lives are worth the most who run the +risks; _I_ shall probably live to a ripe old age." + +The perplexed self-reproach that had weighed heavily on her all the way +home prompted the speech. She hardly knew herself how sad it was, until +she saw him wince, as if she had hurt him. + +"Are ye so unhappy?" he said; "an' I'd give my soul for yours! My little +lass, what shall I do? If there's aught i' this world 'll make ye +happier, I'll do it somehow. I'd be glad if the fever took me, if that +'ud be easiest for ye; but it's easy saying I'd die for ye, when it's +the living is the puzzle. Ay, I know I am scaring ye even now; I love ye +a deal more nor ye want me to, but ye are a woman after all. Margaret, +Margaret, have ye _no_ heart for me?" + +Meg covered her face with her hands; the appeal moved her, though not to +love. + +"Don't, don't!" she cried. "It's my fault that it's not in me to +care--like that. I can't help it, Barnabas; but it's all wrong from the +beginning to end; and it's my fault." + +Barnabas drew himself up with a quick gesture. + +"Shame on me!" he said. "I hadn't meant to ha' said that. Ye must forget +it, lass. Ay, it's time I went. See now, I'm going. But doan't 'ee cry +so; gi'e me one look; for I canna leave ye like this. I'm sore ashamed +to ha' made ye cry." + +Meg lifted her head and looked at him, ashamed too, though with a smile +through her tears. + +"It was something in your voice that made me so silly," she said. "But I +am not going to be unhappy, and I wasn't crying for myself." + +"Good-bye," said the preacher steadily. "But I want no pity, my lass. +I'll not have ye waste tears for me. We've not come to the end yet." + +With that he turned away, and set his face in the other direction. He +was glad there was a stiff bit of work before him; after facing the +problem of life, it was somewhat of a relief to turn to a grapple with +death. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + + +The churchyard of Lupcombe joins the vicarage garden, and slopes +downhill to it. First comes the church on the top of the hill, with its +squat square tower, weather-beaten and sturdy; then the churchyard, the +God's acre, in which a large proportion of the graves bear the date of +the terrible fever year; then the parson's house and the doctor's; and +then the irregularly flagged village street which runs to the bottom of +the hill. + +The parson stood by the grave of his first-born, one May afternoon. + +At the time of the boy's birth the churchyard had been white with snow, +and comparatively empty of graves; and when the parson had gone to +church, people had grinned and bobbed to him on each side of the way, +and had asked after his "good lady". The "good lady" slept by her boy +now; and the two little daughters close by; and only the parson was +left, with a heart dry as the turned-up earth. + +He read the service with a steady voice; in the presence of this mighty +visitation, who was he to complain? + +"The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away. Blessed be the name of the +Lord." + +Barnabas Thorpe buried the boy; for the gravedigger was dead. + +The preacher and the parson fulfilled almost every office under the sun; +a pitiless sun that beat down on the parson's uncovered head, which had +whitened during the last month. + +He held out his hand to Barnabas across the grave, when their work was +finished. + +"Thank you. My arms are old," he said. "If it hadn't been for you we +should have had to do as they did in the plague year. That's the fourth +to-day. Come in now, and eat and rest. Our dead can do without us, but +you'll want all your strength for the living." And Barnabas followed him +down the well-worn path to the garden gate. + +In this strange "time of the Lord," no one even gossiped about the +strangeness of the coalition, though it had been well known before that +Mr. Bagshotte hated dissenters as he hated Whigs and liars. + +The parson was short and spare, a clear-eyed, ruddy-complexioned English +gentleman, a bit of a scholar, and a judge of good wine, but neither +epicure nor bookworm. A healthy-minded man with a fund of common-sense, +who had never thought too much about things spiritual, but had preached +the same set of sermons year in and year out, and had christened, +churched, married and buried his parishioners very comfortably for the +last thirty years. + +Now, in this storm of trouble, he had preached the same sermons still, +till no hearers were left; when he locked the church door, and put the +key in his pocket, observing merely that he had "enough to do in reading +the burial service; and the people were right--while God was speaking +there was no need of his comments". + +Barnabas Thorpe preached on the green instead, when he had time. He +prayed by the dying, too, and, as we have seen, he buried the dead. Some +he saved alive. Indeed, the villagers put down every survival to his +agency; and he certainly was a tower of strength, both morally and +physically. Probably his influence really did prevent some deaths; for, +from the evening of his first sermon, the public houses emptied. + +The disorganisation and terror which the parson could not cope with, +gave place to a religious "revival," which he also disapproved at first; +but he had come round to Barnabas now. The preacher might be uneducated +and fanatical, but he was risking his life gladly and hourly; and the +parson knew a brave man when he saw one, and knew, too, the value of the +example. So he and Barnabas Thorpe stood shoulder to shoulder, and +worked in the presence of death, unshrinkingly, and as a matter of +course; and when the parson's wife and children were struck down, the +parson showed what manner of man he was; and the preacher wondered +whether all the sleepy, easy-going clergymen he had rather despised had +the same depths of courage in them. He thought, also, of his own wife; +and reverenced his fellow-worker, as he had seldom reverenced any man +before. + +The parson unlocked the iron gate that opened on his garden from the +churchyard; he paused a moment there and looked back. + +"At this rate the churchyard will soon be fuller than the village," he +remarked. "There are more brown graves than green now. There is a larger +congregation there than I ever drew; but I never was much of a hand at +preaching." + +The roses in the garden were straggling over the path; all the flowers +were suffering because the gardener was down. Mr. Bagshotte +instinctively felt for a knife with which to prune them; he had been +proud of his garden, and it had repaid him well; but he threw the roses +he cut off in a heap behind the shrubs--it was useless now to carry +them indoors. His wife, who had loved roses, needed his no more; though +it crossed the parson's mind that he could barely believe--as perhaps he +ought--that all the flowers of heaven (if they have flowers there) could +"make up" to her for the familiar roses _he_ had always brought--she had +been very fond of them, and him. + +He fetched bread and meat for his guest with his own hands. The cook had +gone home, the old nurse was sobbing in the empty nursery, the housemaid +was dead. + +Barnabas ate without much appetite; the strain was beginning to tell, +even on him. The desolate house oppressed him, and a grief he could not +assuage made him miserable. + +Mr. Bagshotte stood with his back to the fireplace and looked at the +preacher thoughtfully: his scrutiny might have disturbed some men, but +Barnabas had not a grain of self-consciousness in him. + +It was strange to reflect that this tremendous experience, which was the +one startling event of the old man's life, which had robbed him of all +the sweetness in it--he was too manly a man to say even to himself of +all that made it worth living--was probably only one of many experiences +to this younger brother, whose years, shorter than his own by thirty at +least, were yet probably ten times as full of incident. + +"You must have seen some odd things," he remarked. "I suppose that when +we are through this, we shall pick up what remains of us, and steady +back into our ordinary jogtrot as best we can. But you will go away and +come in for fresh upheavals and what you call 'revivals' somewhere else, +and we shan't meet again." + +"No," said the preacher. "Very like we shan't--till the day when +Christ's kingdom comes." + +His blue eyes brightened at the thought of that time,--which thought, +indeed, was always more or less present with him. + +"H'm," said the parson. "It has come to a good many poor souls this +week. I wonder----" It was on the tip of his tongue to say, "I wonder +what they make of it!" It was so difficult to imagine his stolid +L----shire parishioners translated into a purely spiritual atmosphere; +but the observation struck him as unclerical, and he bit it off short. + +"Mind you, I don't like ranting, and never shall," he said. "But there's +no doubt men had better turn in their despair to God than to gin or +begging; and a time like this seems bound to bring out either the beast +or the angel in us." He paused, and took snuff emphatically. + +"I hope _I_ should have stood to my guns," he resumed; "but all the +same, if it hadn't been for you, the beast would have got the best of it +in the village. Go on eating, man! You ought to eat at the rate you +work. I'd offer you beer, only I suppose you won't touch it. I heard you +stigmatising it as 'accursed poison' on the Green last week. You're +wrong, you know, quite wrong." + +Mr. Bagshotte was usually a deliberate and placidly silent man, but +grief made him curiously restless and talkative. + +Barnabas lifted his eyes from his plate and looked at his host, who had +just buried his son. + +"If you'd felt that drink devil tearing inside you, you'd not care about +playing with him; nor about seeing others do it," he said. "But my +preaching isn't to you, nor such as you, sir. I've not felt called to +speak to them above me, except once." He stopped rather abruptly, and +got up. + +"I've done, thank 'ee; an' there's some one coming up the garden. Ay, +it's Polly Taylor, an' she looks as if it was pressing." + +He walked to the window; and the child, seeing him, poured out an urgent +message, interspersed with sobs. + +Perhaps nothing could have more strongly set forth the general +topsy-turvyness than the fact of the revivalist preacher's receiving a +call through the rectory window, with the parson standing by +unsurprised. + +"Her mother's took bad an' her brother's dead," said Barnabas; +"but"--with a moment's hesitation--"will ye no gi'e yourself an hour, +sir? I'll manage." + +The old parson straightened himself, and took up his hat and stick. + +"Not now," he said. "When the bullets have stopped flying, we'll count +our dead." So the two went into the village street together. + +Barnabas Thorpe, with his weather-beaten face and long swinging stride; +Mr. Bagshotte, trotting along by his side in clerical hat and gaitered +legs--these two were the most familiar of sights now; brave men both, +who, whatever their differences, would never duck their heads under +fire, whether visible or invisible. + +A starved dog, whose owner lay in the churchyard, crept after them +whining, and thrust his nose under the preacher's hand. Dogs always +followed Barnabas, who, from his childhood, had been bound by a +specially strong tie to the brute creation. Already he had been adopted +as master by four cats and two mongrel dogs, as he remembered with +rather rueful amusement. + +"Go home!--I've no room for ye," he said; but, on the dog's explaining +that he had no home, that nobody had any room for him, and that he was +sick of being stoned, his legs having got so shaky that he hadn't energy +to get out of the way, Barnabas relented and picked him up. It was +absolutely impossible to the man to pass on on the other side in any +case, whether advisable or not, as his fellow-worker remarked. Mr. +Bagshotte's liking for Barnabas was, sometimes, touched by something +that would have been pity if the preacher had not been too strong a man +to feel sorry for. + +"A bit of a fatalist (though he doesn't know it), a bit of a fanatic, +and a bit of a saint, with an inconveniently big heart," thought the +parson. "The man gives the saint some trouble, I fancy. I wonder what +his wife is like!" + + * * * * * + +Three weeks later the "bullets" began to slacken. + +There was a paragraph in a London paper describing the terrible scourge +that had devastated the little northern village--reducing the population +to less than one half of its original number, and sweeping away whole +families at once. Mr. Bagshotte, the vicar, had lost his wife and three +children, the report said; and several of his contemporaries, who +remembered Bagshotte at the university, wondered whether this was the +same man they used to know, and, if so, why he had buried himself in the +country. + +Mr. Bagshotte himself read the meagre account with rather a sad smile. +It would mean so remarkably little to the people who did not live in the +village; and the village had been his world for so long. + +He had been essentially a domestic man, loving the routine of everyday +life, absolutely happy with his wife and children, whom he had +surrounded with little old-fashioned tender observances. He had lost +touch with the friends of his youth; though, his friendships being of +sturdy growth, he had prided himself on not forgetting them. He was +alone now, so far as companionship went; and, healthy-minded as he was, +he got to dread the emptiness of the rooms, and would cheat the +loneliness that awaited him by hurrying up the back way, avoiding the +drawing-room door, which used always to open at the sound of his +footstep. + +Possibly he came to feel his losses more when the pressure of excitement +was over. + +It would have been unworthy to pray for death. A man has no business to +whine for a speedy release because his duty has become irksome; but he +was conscious of some disappointment. He had believed, when he had +buried his son, that his own turn would come when the shots began to +"thin". He was willing to wait till then, indeed it would never have +done for his wife to have been left alone; but now, when the shops were +opening again, when the world was regaining its balance, and men, +meeting in the street, talked of weather and trade, and discovered that +the "Last Day" was, after all, not so very imminent, the old man was +conscious of a slightly surprised disappointment. "The king can do no +wrong," but he had hoped things might have been otherwise ordered. + +He was just turning in at his own gate one Sunday morning; the usual +Sunday services had begun again, and he was considering how to fill up +the gaps in the church band, when some one called him by his Christian +name. + +He turned, frowning slightly, and a good deal surprised; then his face +changed. + +He knew the stranger at once; the twelve years that lay between this and +their last meeting seemed to come like a haze before his eyes. He rubbed +them vigorously, but he had no doubt as to who it was. + +"Deane! Charles Deane!" he cried. + +"I saw it in the paper, and I came at once. My dear old friend!" cried +the new-comer; and the two men grasped each other silently by the hand. + +It is one of the advantages of riches that good impulses can be carried +out with comparative ease, while they are still hot. + +Mr. Bagshotte threw open the gate with a jerk. + +"Come in, come in. You are more than welcome," he said. "To think that +you should have come like this! It's--it's extraordinarily good of you, +Deane." + +The old man was more touched than he would have cared to show. He had +admired his brilliant friend immensely in the olden days; but he had, +somehow, hardly expected that Charles Deane would have remembered him. + +"I wish she could have welcomed you. We seldom had any visitors, and she +would have enjoyed it so," he said simply. "So you saw it in the paper +and came! I had fancied I was quite forgotten." + +Mr. Deane put his hand for a moment on the parson's shoulder. "But one +doesn't forget one's oldest friends," he said; and the sympathy in his +musical voice was good to hear. + +It certainly _was_ fortunate that he had come on the spur of the moment, +before anything had occurred to prevent him. + +Mr. Bagshotte led the way into his study, with a brighter look on his +face than it had worn for a long time. + +On opening the door, he found Barnabas Thorpe awaiting him. + +"They told me that ye would be out o' church in a minute, so I just +waited for 'ee," the preacher began; then stopped short suddenly. + +Who was this? this stranger who was yet not a stranger? Who was this who +had _stolen Margaret's eyes_? + +Barnabas actually flinched; the likeness hurt him, combined, as it was, +with the utter scorn and distrust that those eyes expressed. + +"You are my wife's father!" he cried abruptly, his thoughts treading on +each other's heels, and tumbling confusedly through his brain while he +spoke. + +Mr. Deane had turned rather white. Like Meg, his colour went when he was +very angry. He flicked the dust off his boots with his riding whip; then +looked up with a fine smile. + +"It is a little late to remember that she had a father," he said. "She +forgot that she was my child when she became your wife. The best that +can happen to her now is that she should continue to forget it--for +ever, if possible. I sincerely hope it may be possible--for her own +sake. No one will disturb your possession." + +He turned away when he had spoken. He could not condescend to quarrel +with this man. + +"God bless my soul!" cried the parson. "Mr. Deane's daughter your wife; +but--but----" + +"But she was never born for the likes o' me, eh?" said the preacher. "Is +that what you'd say, parson? It's her own flesh an' blood she should ha' +clung to, when they miscalled her, an' cast her out? an' I should ha' +shrugged my shoulders an' walked away?" His heart was hot within him. +Mr. Deane's voice and face and manner, the strong indissoluble tie of +blood that made Meg his, even when he denied her, awoke the man's fierce +jealousy, and awoke also a certain sore despondency that he himself +hardly understood. + +"An' so ye'll not disturb me?" he went on slowly. The two men's eyes met +for a second, and Barnabas Thorpe laughed rather grimly. "An' that's a +true word," he said. "I am no' o' your kind, thank God; but happen I +know one thing. I can take care o' the woman who is mine." + + + + +CHAPTER V. + + +"A small piece of good fortune having fallen to Mrs. Thorpe's share, +it's really time that her old acquaintances should ask what has become +of her, isn't it?" said Mr. Sauls. + +He was standing in Laura Ashford's drawing-room, whither he had come to +extract any knowledge she might possess as to her sister's whereabouts. +Unfortunately she knew nothing. + +"I am very glad that my poor old uncle has left Meg that money," said +Laura; "and that you mean to see that she gets it. Her cause is in good +hands." + +"Mr. Russelthorpe was uncommonly kind to me, and one has a foolish +superstition about carrying out a man's last wishes," said George. "It's +for his sake I am doing it. His widow means to dispute the will on the +ground of incompetency; but she won't gain much by that. It is odd what +a tendency women have for going to law. Of course it is fortunate for +the lawyers; quite a 'special dispensation,' as no doubt Barnabas Thorpe +would say." + +There was a suppressed elation in his voice that was not lost on Laura. + +"I wonder why he hates my aunt. How she must have snubbed him! This +clever gentleman would keep a stone in his pocket seven years, and turn +it, and keep it seven more, for the chance of hitting his enemy with it +at last, I fancy. Well, well! we all rather condescended to Mr. Sauls +before I married," she reflected; "but he has the laugh on his side now. +Meg had better have taken him." + +Her thoughts flew back to the evening of the ball at Ravenshill long +ago, and she sighed. + +"How pretty Meg had looked that night, and how set she had been on +living with their father, and how unreasonable, poor child!" + +Laura had grown stout and matronly since then. The philosophy of +half-loaves had answered well enough apparently. If her husband was +somewhat of a fool, why, her own excellent sense served for two. Well +enough! But she would not recommend it to her own child as she had +recommended it to poor Meg. + +Motherhood had softened Laura; and, on glancing at Mr. Sauls seated +under the lamplight, she recognised that he too had altered. + +He had the ball at his feet now. He had always had plenty of +self-assurance, but during this last year he had proved his strength, +and justified his own belief in himself in the eyes of all men; he was +no longer on sufferance anywhere, and his manner showed that he knew it. +He was quieter and less eager than he had been; he looked successful, +but he no longer looked young. + +"Will you take charge of a letter from me to my sister, and give it to +her, if you find her?" she asked. + +"I will, _when_ I find her," said Mr. Sauls. "I do not expect much +difficulty. The preacher ought not to be hard to trace; for he certainly +is not given to hiding his light under bushels; besides, my news will be +to his advantage. We did our best to prevent his reaping inordinate +profits, and he can't actually pocket much. There are a good many +conditions, but, no doubt, he will live on her, and live in clover. Mr. +Russelthorpe was fond of your sister, wasn't he? I do not remember her +very clearly myself; I've a bad memory for faces. She had brown eyes and +a fresh complexion, hadn't she? No? Ah! I must have been thinking of +some one else. Well, if you'll write your letter I will deliver it." + +"Meg's eyes are grey," said Laura shortly; and she turned to the +writing-table with a sigh. + +Poor Meg! who had so often been sinned against, as well as sinning, whom +even her quondam admirer had forgotten! + +Laura wrote her letter and folded it, then felt that it was +unsatisfactory and tore it up, and tried again. + +Mr. Sauls looked at his watch, and she took yet another sheet and +scribbled a hasty postscript. + +Her letter was stiff and rather cold, but in the postscript her heart +showed itself; it was a warmer after-thought, such as had made her long +ago turn back at the door to offer her silly little sister an unexpected +kiss. + +She thrust the loose sheet, which was thinner and of a different colour +from the rest, into the envelope, and put her missive into Mr. Sauls' +hands. + +"Grey eyes and pale! I'll try to recollect. Good-bye," he said. "Oh yes, +I'll give her your love, when I see her again." + +"When I see her again!" His voice betrayed nothing this time; but he +repeated the words to himself on his way down the stairs, not quite so +calmly. + +"When I see her again!" He would see her across a gulf; but, at least, +he would know at last whether Meg on the other side of it was in heaven +or hell. She was sure to be in one or the other; for there had never +been much debatable land for her. + + * * * * * + +A fortnight later he had redeemed his promise. He had found his way to +the preacher's house. It was, to Mr. Sauls' mind, the most God-forsaken +spot he had ever come across. Holding Margaret Thorpe's hand in his, he +tried to discover what had happened to Margaret Deane. + +He was prepared for the meeting, and, even if he had not been, his +natural instinct for the expedient would have led him to behave as if +nothing very remarkable had occurred since he had last talked to her in +her aunt's drawing-room; as if this encounter were the most ordinary +thing in the world. But Meg, who was not prepared, started at sight of +him as though she had seen a ghost. + +Tom Thorpe, whom he had met about a mile from the farm, stood staring at +them both from under his heavy eyebrows. Mrs. Tremnell hurried into the +kitchen, attracted by the sound of a strange voice, and peeped over +Meg's shoulder at the visitor, wondering in her own mind what Barnabas, +who didn't like gentlefolk, would have said to him. But Mr. Sauls talked +on in an even tone about his journey and the weather, to give Meg time +to recover herself. + +"Is my father well?" she said at last. "Oh," with a smile of relief, +when he had reassured her, "then nothing else matters!" For a moment she +had feared that this messenger from the past had come to tell her that +her father was dead. + +Mr. Sauls smiled a trifle bitterly. He had always known that Meg +expended an immense amount of affection on her father, and that she had +never had any sentiment to spare for himself; but familiarity does not +always blunt the sharp edge of a fact, and at that moment he would have +felt himself "less of a fool" if her emotion had been awakened on his +own account. + +He sat down to the mid-day meal with them, Tom inviting him somewhat +unwillingly; and Meg, after the first shock of surprise, lost her +nervousness, and brightened up. + +She had often in old days had reason to be grateful to Mr. Sauls for his +_savoir faire_; now she was once more thankful for it. + +He made no allusion to her former life; looked as if he were accustomed +to dining in a kitchen at twelve o'clock, and discoursed on the breeding +of horses, as if that, of all subjects in the world, interested him +most. Tom talked with a broader accent than usual, and with an +underlying antagonism that puzzled Meg. Mrs. Tremnell's manner became +more superfine and her words longer; but, except for one moment at the +end of the meal, Mr. Sauls was his ordinary and imperturbable self. It +was a pleasure--Meg was ashamed to find how great a pleasure--to be +again with some one who did not drop his _h_'s, or answer with his mouth +full, or put his knife between his lips, and on whose tact she could +rely. + +"What this poor lady must have suffered here passes a man's +understanding, I suspect," George reflected grimly; and, although he was +not a forgiving person, he forgave Margaret a good deal of the pain she +had most unwittingly brought on him, when he saw Tom Thorpe help her to +the dish in front of him with his own fork, and noticed that she tried +to "look as it she liked it". Possibly the things for which he pitied +her were not those which weighed most heavily on her; but even the +warmest sympathy is apt to be undiscriminating. + +Margaret was thinner and paler and gentler than she used to be; he noted +each change with secret indignation. No doubt her short cropped hair and +black dress accentuated the difference, but he fancied that an ordinary +acquaintance would hardly recognise her. + +There had often been a touch of defiance in her manner to Mrs. +Russelthorpe; she was not defiant now, but on the contrary, painfully +anxious to get on with her husband's relatives. + +Meg had once believed that all her troubles were her aunt's fault; but, +since then, she had failed entirely on her own account--an experience +which, I suppose, comes to the majority of us sooner or later, and has a +wonderfully humbling effect. + +George observed also that Tom Thorpe was rather fond of her. He could +not have explained how he knew it, but the fact irritated him. + +"I wish ye'd coax dad to come and take a bite o' some'at," Tom said +presently. And she went at once, leaving Mr. Sauls racking his brains to +remember some remark he had heard about the preacher's father. Was it +that he was melancholy mad? + +Dinner was nearly over when she came back. + +"I have tried and tried," she said rather sadly; "but it is of no use +yet. I think he hardly knew I was there, and I could not get him to +attend to me to-day. He would do nothing but walk up and down, and quote +bits out of the 'Lamentations'. It is dreadful to see him like that. +I'll go and sing presently; sometimes that does it." + +George looked up from his plate with the sudden dilating of his +short-sighted eyes that Meg remembered of old. + +"It must be very bad for Mrs. Thorpe to try and try," he remarked +decidedly. "And you ought not to let her do it." + +There was a moment's silence, then Tom laughed aggressively. + +"Oh we allus bully her when th' husband's away," he said. "We mind +there's noan to look to her then, an' we make the moast on it: but +that's our business; which in this part we stick to, an' let other +foalk's affairs bide. Will 'ee have some more cider, sir?" + +The preacher's wife looked from one man to the other in some anxiety. + +"Why do you say that, Tom? it isn't true!" she cried. "You are all very +kind to me!" And Mr. Sauls, meeting the look, shrugged his shoulders, +and accepted the cider and the snub peaceably. He hadn't followed her in +order to make life harder for her, or even in order to quarrel with her +relatives-in-law. + +She took him to a deserted mill after dinner, for he had hinted that he +had news he preferred giving her alone. And there, under the black walls +of the old ruin, with the marshes round them, he told her of her old +uncle's illness and death--with more feeling than, perhaps, most people +would have given George Sauls credit for. + +"He slipped out of life, much as he used to slip out of a dinner-party, +with no fuss, giving no trouble to any one," George said. "I had been to +see him every day during the last week; for after--well, after you left, +the old fellow seemed to have a sort of liking for me. One afternoon I +found him on the sofa, instead of in his armchair, too feeble to sit up, +and only able to whisper. I insisted on fetching a doctor, but he would +not have his wife disturbed, and I saw no reason to send for her. She +was out driving, and expected back in time for dinner. Mr. Russelthorpe +fell into a doze, as the afternoon wore on. He was quite unable to read, +but he had begged me to take down one volume after another, and he kept +fingering them, and they were all piled round him on the sofa and on the +table by his side. Presently he opened his eyes. 'Plenty of company,' he +said; 'but you are the only bit of flesh and blood, Sauls, among them +all, except Meg, who cries to me--and I didn't help!' And then he slept +again. His hand was in mine (flesh and blood is what one clings to at +the end, I suppose, and books must give rather thin comfort); I felt it +grow cold while I held it; but he was often very cold. I stooped over +him to listen to his breathing, but not a sound was to be heard. He was +gone." + +Mr. Sauls paused for a minute; his liking for Mr. Russelthorpe had been +closely bound up with the love that was--unfortunately, he told +himself--the love of his life. He saw Meg was touched by his story, and +especially by her uncle's self-reproach. Yet the old man _had_ done +nothing; and he, who would have done anything, who would have moved +heaven and earth for her in his youthful energy, had she only appealed +to him, would never touch her at all. + +"That, however, is not the really important part of my news," he went +on, with a slight change of tone. "The point of it is that you have come +in for a fortune--though only on certain conditions." + +He explained the conditions at some length; he generally spoke +concisely, but there was no need to hurry this interview. + +"He was very good to me when I was a little girl," Meg softly said at +last, when every detail had been made clear. "When I grew up I fancied +he did not care what happened to me. I spoke to him unkindly the last +time I saw him. I wish! oh, how I wish I hadn't! So he remembered me +after all!" + +"To some purpose," said George drily. It was like Meg to be more +impressed by the remembrance than by the actual money; and the dryness +of his tone made her smile. + +"I can't help being grateful," she said; "as grateful as if I actually +possessed the fortune, which, of course, I never shall. Aunt +Russelthorpe need have no fears." + +Her smile and the little gesture with which she put aside the notion of +benefiting by the legacy, filled him momentarily with the old +half-tender amusement with which he used to listen to Margaret Deane's +wildly unpractical utterances. Then the amusement was swamped in +bitterness against the man who had taken advantage of her. + +If Margaret had been his wife, she might have been as loftily +unpractical as she chose, and she would have been no whit the worse for +it. + +George saw how the pretty hands, whose delicacy he had admired, were +tanned and roughened; how the silver wedding ring on her finger, that +had taken the place of the pearls she had worn once, was much too loose +for her; how the dimples were gone that he had liked to watch for. + +He had often said something to make his rather serious little lady smile +for the pleasure of seeing them. Now, inwardly, he cursed the preacher +with a vigour that would have startled his companion considerably if she +could have read his heart. + +"The conditions are absurd on the face of them," she was saying. +"Barnabas could not agree to them; nor could I. To fulfil them would +mean going back to----" + +"To your natural position," said George. "Perhaps Mr. Thorpe's scruples +might be overcome. Most men see the iniquity of wealth from a different +point of view if they have a chance of handling it--I mean no disrespect +to the preacher, naturally," he added hastily. + +"I should hope not," said Meg; and her gravely surprised eyes made him +wonder whether Barnabas Thorpe still took the trouble to deceive her. + +"I daresay you know best about most men, but _I_ know that Barnabas +could never see things differently for his own advantage. I will write +to him to-night, and you shall see his answer. I am quite sure of him." + +"Ah! and you are not at all disappointed, and you are quite happy here, +and his relatives are all very kind to you? You look as if you had had a +remarkably easy time of it, don't you?" cried George. "I am glad you are +so fortunate----" he checked himself suddenly. "I ought to be going," he +said, with rather an abrupt pull up. He took out his watch and studied +it, not her, when he took his leave. "I don't know whether you care to +see me again? I had several things to tell you about--about your own +people--your father and----" + +"About father! Come again and tell me all you can think of," she said. +"Come and talk to me about him; come soon." + +"I'll come to-morrow," said George; and so he did, and for many +following morrows. So long as he talked on that subject her interest +never flagged; though it must be owned that he, on his part, +occasionally felt the situation strained. + +"What a fool I am!" he said to himself more fiercely every time he saw +her. And afterwards, when he had left her and was back in London, those +hot days spent at the "other end of nowhere," at the side of the woman +who unconsciously played so large a part in his life, seemed to belong +to a part of himself that he hardly recognised. He was so eminently sane +as a rule, so little given to unprofitable expenditure, either of time +or feeling; and yet, if he had never met Meg, he would have been a +smaller man. + +He wondered sardonically sometimes, between his pretty constant visits +to Meg, how all this would end. It couldn't go on for ever! Would the +climax come in his having the quarrel he was pining for with Margaret's +husband when that saint should see fit to return to his wife? Would Meg +herself wake up, and take fright, and bid him go? He knew perfectly well +that, at a word of love, she would fly horrified from him; and his +reverence for her kept his tongue within bounds. Had she been any one +else, he felt there would have been a third possibility; but Meg's ice +would never melt for him. It was, perhaps, some small consolation to +discover also that it hadn't melted for the preacher; and Mr. Sauls was +shrewd enough to arrive at that fact, even though Margaret Thorpe was +not quite so transparent as Margaret Deane had been. + +They were walking together along the cart road to N----town when she +gave Mr. Sauls her husband's reply to her letter about the legacy. + +The road was perfectly straight, flanked by a ditch on each side, and +beyond the ditch a low mud bank. The croaking of the marsh frogs filled +the pauses in their speech like a chorus. George took the letter +unwillingly. How he loathed the sight of that laboured handwriting! A +longing assailed him to toss it to the frogs; but, unfortunately, he +might not gratify the impulse. + +"I should like you to read it," said Meg, with a touch of dignity; +"because you have imagined that the preacher would want me to take the +money. You have not understood the sort of man he is." + +"No! You see, I am not a saint myself," said Mr. Sauls. He adjusted his +glass carefully. Ah, how he hated that man! "There's always a sort of +mist here. I should fancy these marshes were not healthy," he said +aloud. + +("Don't stay a moment longer; come with me, away from these brutal +farmers and their pestilent country," said the voice in his heart.) + +"My dear lass," he read ("the impudence of the fellow!"), "I was glad to +get a letter. I am glad you are well." ("Oh! curse his gladness!") "It +doesn't seem to me as there can be two minds about the money. It isn't +for us to be having a fine house and servants" ("for us! did he put +himself on a level with her?"); "besides, I wouldn't have you beholden +to any; and I would be 'shamed to have you live on another man's money, +even though he be dead, while I've strength to work. If Mrs. +Russelthorpe is oneasy, you can set her mind at rest. You are in my +heart by day and by night. God bless you, my girl!" + +That last sentence had a pencil mark through it. He ought not to have +read it; he wished he had not; it was worse than all the rest; he wished +he could cram the preacher's "blessing" down the preacher's throat; it +made him feel sick. + +"Have you read it?" said his companion. "I don't think that he 'sees +wealth from a different point of view' now that he has a chance of +possessing it after all, do you?" + +"Apparently not. You have the best of that argument, Mrs. Thorpe," said +George. "And the preacher's reply is a model of disinterestedness, as +one might expect. Allow me to return it to you with many +congratulations." + +"You are angry," said Meg; for the bitterness in his tone was hardly +concealed this time. "I wish you wouldn't be, for I was going to ask you +to do something for me. I remember" (with the pretty smile that was rare +now), "I remember that formerly you were often my friend when I was +always in trouble with my aunt." + +"Was I? I don't think so," said George; and his sallow face flushed. "I +don't much believe in platonic friendships, you know--at least, not on +the man's side. I was never hypocrite enough for that; but (well, never +mind that) what do you want me to do?" + +"It isn't a great thing," said Meg, "but I have no one else to ask." She +hesitated a moment. Mr. Sauls might have been more gracious, she +thought; but then she never quite understood him. + +"It is a very small thing," she repeated deprecatingly. "It is only that +I want you to persuade my father that my husband is a good man and an +honest one. That was why I showed you the preacher's letter; that was +why I tried to prove to you that he is, as you say, disinterested. It +does not in the least matter what the world in general thinks. I don't +care! it's not worth minding," said Meg proudly; "but I do care--I can't +help it--I do care about my father. I shall never see him again, I +suppose, and I cannot even send him my love, because perhaps he may not +want it," she cried, trying to swallow the inconvenient lump in her +throat. "I shall never be able to explain everything to him; but tell +him, you who have seen me, that Barnabas is good to me; don't let him be +unhappy for me; don't let him fancy anything else. You think this isn't +necessary, perhaps, but I know father. He is so tender-hearted even when +people don't deserve it. He will try not to think about me oftener than +can be helped, and he has plenty of other interests. That was always the +difference between us: he had plenty of interests, but I had only him. +But, sometimes, he will suddenly remember, and then he will be sad; +though my aunt will tell him I am not worth it. When father is sad, he +is very sad," said the daughter who was most like him. + +"Tell him, then, what I have told you. Do you understand?" + +"Oh yes," said George slowly. + +"And you will do it?" she entreated. She smiled again, but with eyes +that were full of tears; and the April expression reminded him of the +little girl who was always so easily moved to pleasure or pain. + +"I'll make a bargain with you," said he. "I'll swear anything on earth +to your father, if you will tell _me_ the truth. My curiosity is--is +excessive, I admit; but I was always curious, and you must allow that +you gave your old acquaintance scope for conjecture. Tell me--are you +happy, or not?" He twirled his eyeglass rapidly, and looked hard at her. +"Has the venture been a success?" + +Meg drew her breath quickly, and turned her head away. + +"It is not fair," she said. "If any one had asked _me_ to do for him so +small and natural a service, I should not have bargained." + +It was odd how this man always jarred on her when she felt most friendly +towards him. She had been pleased that he had taken the trouble to seek +her out, and to give her the details about her old uncle; but his +over-eagerness offended her. + +"No," he said; "you wouldn't have condescended so far; but then, you +know, you wouldn't have cared. That's always such an advantage!" He +ended the sentence with a laugh. "Well, I think I have the answer in +your refusal to give it. I'll do my best for you when I see your +father." + +"Don't make a mistake," said Meg. She turned, and faced him with a touch +of dignity, her confusion lost in something else. Meg had faults enough, +heaven knew; but she carried with them all a crystal-clear sincerity +that sometimes impressed him with a sense of awe. "Don't make a mistake. +I have asked you to say nothing but the truth. It is I only who have +failed. I thought I was better than I am. I fancied, for a little while, +that I could live as Barnabas does, always praying and preaching and +rescuing and healing. I was wrong--I am not good enough, or strong +enough. I have found that out, and--yes--it makes me unhappy. It is as +if one had fallen from a height; and I hardly know what to do, or where +to turn." She hesitated for a second; then she went on more firmly, and +an utterance that was on George Sauls' very lips was forced back. "But +this is my fault, not his," she resumed. "And the preacher has been +kinder to me than any one in the world, except--no, without exception. +My failures are my own. You have made me confess them, though I am +ashamed----" + +"It is I who should be ashamed," said George thickly. "Well, I'll do +anything possible for you, Mrs. Thorpe, even to taking myself off, since +that's all I can do. I wanted to meet Barnabas Thorpe once, but--I'll +endeavour to renounce that pleasure, and bid you good-bye here and now. +So this is the end, eh?" + +He held out his hand in a sudden revulsion of feeling, and Meg took it +rather puzzled. + +"Did you want to meet Barnabas? I wish you could!" she said. "For then +you could not help being fairer to him. Good-bye, and good luck to you!" +she added as an after-thought, moved thereto by the suspicion that Mr. +Sauls was rather depressed; and he, lifting his hat, stood still and +watched her out of sight. + +"So that's over!" he remarked. "And I've given up my chance of speaking +my mind to her precious husband. He'll get off scot free in this world, +I suppose. Really I hope there is another, if only for the pleasure of +seeing that astute humbug get his deserts. I think I could stand the +lower regions myself, if only I might find the preacher there. 'Good +luck! I am glad she wished it me. I am glad she is still the best woman +I have known. Pshaw! she'd have lifted me into I don't know what heights +of sentiment, if she had married me; and all one can say now is that +even her husband hasn't dragged _her_ down." + +From which it may be opined that fairness to Margaret's husband was one +of the things not possible to George Sauls. + +After all, however, he had not seen the last of that country. + +The next day, while waiting in no very good humour for the London coach +at the market-place of N----, the landlord of the "Pig and Whistle" came +panting up to him with a letter. To his great surprise it was from Mr. +Deane, and written in a very shaky hand. + +"I am tied to Lupcombe by an attack of hæmorrhage. I can't write long +explanations, but think I am rather bad. I hear you are at N----; if so, +can you come to me? There is business----" + +The letter broke off there, and there was a postscript which George +gathered was from Mr. Bagshotte, the rector at Lupcombe, explaining that +Mr. Deane had been taken suddenly ill at the parsonage. + +Well, if he could do Meg one good turn now, he would, if only for the +sake of having done something besides wasting time in that abominable +country; and afterwards he would go back, and be "sane". + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + + +Mrs. Tremnell sat in her room staring at a bit of a letter that lay +before her, an expression of half horror, half doubt on her face. + +She had never said in her heart that she disliked Margaret; she was not +the kind of person to look at her feelings boldly, or to own to +experiencing either love or hate in undue degree. She had never +consciously gone further than "not thinking much of the preacher's +wife," or "hoping that Barnabas would not have cause to repent"; but +Meg's reserve had chafed her, and so, perhaps, had Mr. Thorpe's +deference to the "little lady," and Tom's kindly partiality. She was a +conscientious woman according to her lights. She believed she was +dismayed at what she had discovered; not exactly surprised, perhaps; of +course, not pleased,--but, "pride cometh before a fall". She had always +known that Margaret was proud, and here was the fall that proved it. + +"My letter sounds cold; but, after all that has happened, it is +difficult to write to you as I feel. Only I want you to know that my +home is always open to you, Margaret." + +That was all. It was the hurriedly scribbled postscript to a letter, the +rest of which was in Meg's pocket still. + +Mrs. Tremnell, looking out of her window, had seen Mr. Sauls give it to +the preacher's wife, on taking leave of her the day before; had seen Meg +colour on receiving it, and read it through more than once after he had +gone. Afterwards Mrs. Tremnell had picked up this stray sheet in the +field where the two had stood. No one but Margaret, surely, would have +been so careless as to let such a document blow away. "'His home open to +her,' and she the wife of a professed preacher! To think that it had +come to that!" + +Should she show it to Barnabas? No; somehow she shrank from such a +course. The consequence might be too serious altogether. He took things +hardly. She didn't want to raise a tragedy. + +Should she speak to Margaret? She had only "done her duty by her"; but +Mrs. Tremnell grew rather red at the thought of how Meg would "look". Of +course, she _ought_ to look guilty; but that, somehow, was impossible to +picture. + +Should she tell Tom? He really made too much of Margaret; it would be a +good thing that he should see she was just like other girls. His temper +was colder than his brother's, and his common-sense more habitually +awake. + +Supper was on the table when she went downstairs. Margaret was still +out. + +"She's walking wi' that gentleman fro' London. Lord bless us! he must +ha' plenty o' time to spare. When's he going home?" said Tom. But when +Mrs. Tremnell, agreeing with him with unusual warmth, also asseverated +that it was "time Mr. Sauls should go," and furthermore suggested that +the way Margaret received visits from him was most "unsuitable," she +might almost say "improper," he twisted round to Meg's defence with +startling rapidity. + +"Oh, she's right enough, an' honest as day; any baby might see that!" he +cried. "I'd be fair ashamed to hint aught else to her. I doan't like +that gentleman, an' I doan't fancy he comes for th' pleasure o' talking +about horses to me; but I doan't believe he's a downright bad un, an' no +man who wasn't a brute 'ud dare say a word he hadn't ought to Barnabas' +wife, no more than to a child. She's homesick for her own kind, poor +lass, tho' she won't own to it, an' that's why she likes to hear that +swell talk. Small blame to her!" + +Mrs. Tremnell shook her head mysteriously. It was all very well to laugh +at her, but she wasn't one to speak without reason. The acidity of her +tone increased in proportion as Tom's grew impatient and indignant. + +"She's a very good lass, an' if she was a little fool to throw up her +own kin for Barnabas, it's not for his folk to make her feel that worse +nor she must. You're a rare hand at making a fuss!" said he; and his +last words brought Mrs. Tremnell to a decision. She held Meg's letter +out to him. + +"Eh, what is it?" said Tom. "'_My letter sounds cold after all that has +happened--my home open to you_'--but your name ain't Margaret! Who gave +this to you?" + +"Who gave it to your brother's wife? you should inquire," said Mrs. +Tremnell. Something in Tom's voice made her nervous, but she tried to +speak with dignity. + +"It is my duty to say as Mr. Sauls gave it to her; and to ask you, +Thomas, whether you consider that the proper way for him to address +her." + +Tom's fingers closed hard on the paper, crushing it into a tight ball. +He turned his back on Mrs. Tremnell and pitched the letter into the +fire, stood a moment watching it blaze, and then turned round with a +look that scared her. + +"An' now where did 'ee steal it?" he said. + +Mrs. Tremnell burst into tears, and covered her face with her apron. She +felt as if Tom's scornful eyes were burning holes through the linen. + +"To be so spoken to! and me a defenceless woman in your father's house," +she sobbed. "Me to be miscalled a thief, who have always been most +respected before, even in the best families! If I _have_ been +unfortunate it's not been my doing, nor was there any one who treated me +in such a manner as you do, who are my own relation, and who I expected +to behave as such." + +"Where did you steal it?" said Tom. + +"I--I picked it up," she cried. She was frightened now, but angry as +well. "I saw him take it out of his pocket, and slip it into her hand, +Tom. And, if you had been there to notice how she changed colour, and +read it over and over after he had gone, and----" + +"Oh, d----n you!" said Tom. "_I_ don't want to hear all that; and," with +an unconscious change of tone, "here is Barnabas' wife to answer for +herself." + +Meg stood in the doorway, looking weary and rather dismayed. She had no +great love for Mrs. Tremnell; but Tom ought not to swear at her, +especially when she was crying. It always made Meg wildly indignant to +hear another woman roughly spoken to; so indignant that she lost her own +nervousness, and became quite bold on such occasions. Indeed, though +Margaret minded rough words a great deal too much, and considered +herself a coward, she was seldom wanting in courage on behalf of +another. + +"What is the matter, Cousin Tremnell? What a shame to speak to her so, +Tom!" cried the preacher's wife in a breath. + +Mrs. Tremnell made hastily for the door, and Tom laughed. + +"Why do 'ee go now ye've got a defender? Ye ought to stop an' hear what +Barnabas' wife has to say, since ye've been doing your duty by her all +this blessed afternoon!" he shouted after her. "Well----" turning to +Margaret, "have ye missed your letter?" + +Meg looked so very far from guilty that he added hastily:-- + +"I doan't believe ye could hinder it, lass, nor that ye'd ha' ta'en it +if ye'd guessed what it was. Cousin Tremnell brought it to me, but I'd +not ha' read it if I'd known it was yours." + +The preacher's wife raised her eyebrows with a touch of haughtiness +which she seldom showed, but which Tom, at that moment, liked her the +better for. + +"Mrs. Tremnell had _certainly_ no business whatever to bring you my +letter; I can't imagine what she was dreaming of," said she. "Where is +it, please?" + +"In the fire," said Tom bluntly; "an', let me tell 'ee, that's th' best +place for such things." + +Meg stared at him in unfeigned astonishment. + +"Why?" she said. "I do really think you've no shadow of right to put my +letters in the fire, Tom. I have only had two since I married, one from +Barnabas about some money, and the other from my sister. His is in my +hand at this moment, so you must have burnt hers; and I am sorry, for it +was good of Laura!" + +Tom flung the book he was holding up to the ceiling with a triumphant +shout, and caught it again with a clap. + +"What a sell for Cousin Tremnell! I allus knew ye were all right; but +I'll tell ye one thing, Barnabas' wife. I doan't fancy she'll be in a +hurry to bring me tales of ye again," he cried. + +Meg wondered a little over this episode in the quietness of her own +room. What had Tom meant? and should she call Mrs. Tremnell to account +for her odd behaviour? But no, she hated a quarrel too much for that to +be worth while. When Meg was excited, she could say what she thought +pretty strongly; but, in cold blood, she had a morbidly strong aversion +to anything approaching a scene. + +It was rather dreadful that any one should be capable of reading private +letters, and passing them on, she thought, rather scornfully. Then she +dismissed the subject altogether. It never even occurred to her that +Mrs. Tremnell's inexplicable suspicions had any connection with Mr. +Sauls; he, indeed, had but small place in her mind, which was over full +just then of that spiritual failure that so weighed on her. + +If she was not good enough to be an Apostle, what was she to be? If she +was not strong enough to live that life of voluntary poverty and intense +effort that has attracted the nobler souls among us in all ages, what +should she do? + +Smaller perplexities seemed hardly worth sifting compared to that. Such +a nature as Margaret's was bound to grow morbid if it were unsatisfied. +Her very virtues tended that way. Indeed, the dividing line, between +virtues run wild and so-called vice, is apt to be elastic; and the very +qualities which might be our salvation become our perdition when they +take the wrong turn--a depressing fact until one remembers that it cuts +two ways. + +Certainly, if the idealists among us are terribly given to missing what +is under their noses in their attempts to strain after the stars, the +majority can be trusted to remind them of earth, with a salutary sharp +shock on occasion, or even without it. + +Some imp of mischief must have haunted the farm on the evening of Mr. +Sauls' departure. He had been baulked once, but was not to be +suppressed. Tom was in a teasing mood, his curious greenish hazel eyes +alight with rather revengeful fun, and he kept harassing Mrs. Tremnell +with a fire of jokes which she could not understand; she had given _him_ +an uncomfortable quarter of an hour after supper, and now she should pay +for it. But his triumph, alas! was short-lived. Meg had coaxed her +father-in-law into coming down, and sat next him, singing song after +song for him, trying to pierce that periodical black cloud which would +wrap him in cold lonely misery. Mrs. Tremnell tatted with a very injured +air, and was on the verge of tears. + +It was in the hope of interesting Mr. Thorpe that Meg began talking +about the fever at Lupcombe. + +"Barnabas does not say much about it. I have his letter here," she said: +and, putting her hand in her pocket, drew out the wrong one. + +"No; that is my sister's. This is his," cried Meg; then stopped short, +aware of something in the air--of two pairs of eyes fixed eagerly on +her. + +"Hallo! How's this?" said Tom. "Why did ye tell me that it was your +sister's letter I burnt, eh? an' that ye'd had no others?" + +"I thought it was hers, but it could not have been, since I still have +it," said Meg. "Why! what _could_ you have burnt then? It wasn't mine at +all. I suppose it must have belonged to some one else." + +She got up quickly, and left the old man, who sat with his head on his +hands quite unmoved by this stir and excitement. + +"Why do you look at me so?" she cried, crossing over to where Tom sat, +still but half understanding. + +Tom put his hand before his eyes. Barnabas' wife had bewitched him into +believing her once, in spite of evidence. He wouldn't be bewitched +again. There was no other "Margaret" at the farm; she could not have +"forgotten". It could not have belonged to some one else! Why did she +say that? Why did she tell him lies? He had been so sure that she was +true, even though that London gentleman might have been trying to "make +hay" in her husband's absence. He had been too sure. + +"It must have been the letter of some one else--not mine at all," she +repeated. "It----" + +"Doan't!" said Tom in an odd husky voice. "'Tain't worth while." + +He looked so unhappy that Meg, still more perplexed, went on hastily: +"After all, it doesn't much matter, does it? Perhaps when Barnabas comes +home, he will be able to find----" + +"Barnabas!" said Tom. + +The indignation in his voice startled her this time, woke her up to a +faint realisation of what he meant. + +"He's over good for 'ee; and he swears by ye; but, an' ye tak' advice, +ye'll not tell lies to him. He thought ye ower heavenly mind to warm to +any man!" cried Tom, with a laugh that ended in something very like a +groan. "Ye may break his heart times, an' he'll not hear aught against +ye, or have ye fashed, cos he holds ye o' finer make than himself, or +all of us. O' finer make! an' ye'll take a love-letter when he's away, +fro' a black-faced Jew." + +"_Tom!_" she cried, shuddering with disgust, "how can you, how dare you, +say such things to me?" And at the warmth in her tone his cooled. + +"Ye see I believed in 'ee too!" he said. "I thought ye weren't the soart +to tell lies to save--I was going to say your skin; but it warn't even +that, for ye couldn't ha' thought I'd harm ye." + +"I told no lies. I never do!" said Meg. + +"No! Happen ye call 'em some'ut else where ye come from; but it ain't my +affair! Ye needn't be feared I want to interfere with 'ee. I never will +again," said Tom. And Meg, too much offended at the time to attempt +further vindication, yet recognised, with a sense of increased +loneliness later, that he kept his word. She might be as late as she +chose, she might eat or fast; Tom's kindly teasing had ceased. She +missed it even while she resented his suspicions with an almost scornful +wonder and disgust. + +Meg had absolutely no instinct for flirtations, her love and hate were +both deep; but when china vessels and iron pots journey together, we +know which gets the worst of a collision; and her moral rectitude wasn't +all the support it should have been. + +"I think," she said one day to Tom, "that, if you think bad things of +me, I ought not to stay here and eat your bread." + +"You eat your husband's," said Tom. "He pays for it--an' where would 'ee +go to, eh?" Then his own words shamed him. Where could she go, poor +lass, if they were hard on her? + +"I doan't want to be unfriendly," he said; "seeing that, happen, ye +didn't mean much harm, an', arter all----" + +"Thank you; but, if you can't believe me, I don't want _that_ kind of +friendship--I must do without," said the preacher's wife. Her gesture +forbade his completing his sentence, and actually made Tom feel rather +small, though her voice was gentle enough. Yet, in spite of those +brave-sounding words, she was _not_ the woman to "do without". She was +by no means cast in a self-sufficing mould; whatever heroism she might +be capable of would always have its roots in the strength of her +affections, and his "where would 'ee go?" made her feel very helpless. + +The preacher came back a few days later. Meg, coming down early one +morning, found him asleep on the wooden settle, with his head on the +table. + +Meg shut the door softly, and stood considering him--this man who had +been her prophet, and was, alas, her husband! + +He had tramped a long way, and he slept heavily. + +Should she tell him the whole inexplicable story when he woke, or not? + +There was a force of character, an uncompromising arbitrariness about +all the Thorpes that she rather shrank from; but Barnabas was always +good to her. + +She had declared to George Sauls that she trusted the preacher +absolutely; and so she did--so she _must_--for what would happen if she +didn't? As the question rose in her mind, Meg's heart answered it with +startling clearness. She could not afford to lose one tittle of her +carefully nourished respect for Barnabas. She was afraid, not of him, +but of herself. She couldn't risk this thing; if he, like Tom, were to +tell her she lied, she knew she should hate him; for she was too much in +his power. + +The sun was beginning to pour into the room. With the tenderness for a +man's physical comfort that is ingrained in most women, Meg drew down +the blind to prevent the light waking him, and left him to have his +sleep out. + +"Are ye surprised to see me?" he asked her later; and longed to add "Are +ye glad?" but forbore. + +He knew, before he had been many minutes with her, that his lass was +more constrained than she had been. He had a horror of pressing her with +questions, lest she should feel bound to answer them; but the unspoken +inquiry that was always in his mind, and that she met in his eyes +whenever she looked at him, oppressed her. Meg longed to escape from the +whole family of Thorpes! + +Barnabas waited all that day and the next in the hope that she would +tell him what was amiss. On the third day something happened. A letter +came for Margaret. She gave a cry of dismay, her colour fading, and her +eyes dilating while she read it. + +"What is it? Who has made ye look so?" said Barnabas. But his wife did +not hear him: the hot kitchen, and the three men all staring at her, and +the hum of bees through the open door, all which she had been conscious +of the moment before, grew dim and very far off. The letter dropped from +her fingers. + +"She's going to faint," said Tom. + +She pulled herself together. "No--I'm not," she said, in rather an +unsteady voice. "I have had bad news. My father is ill; I must go to +him. He is at Lupcombe parsonage. Oh, Barnabas, did you know that? You +never told me! Mr. Sauls writes from Lupcombe. How soon can I get +there?" + +"Ay, I knew!" said the preacher slowly. "Ye can't go, Margaret. Ye might +get the fever. Besides,--are ye sure he wants ye? Has he asked for ye?" + +"No; but I want _him_!" she cried. "It is so long, so long since I have +seen my father, and I have so longed for him! Let me go, Barnabas, let +me go. What does it matter about the fever, if I see him first? I must +go to my father. Let me go!" + +The insistent, reiterated cry rang through the room. + +It roused Mr. Thorpe, who had paid little attention to any one or +anything of late; it filled Tom with illogical compunction. The woman +who cared so for her father couldn't be "light" after all, he said to +himself. But Barnabas drew his fair eyebrows together, frowning as if in +pain. + +"_She's pining after her own people, an' she'll go back to 'em, an' +leave you to whistle for her._" It had come. + +"No, no; ye are mine, not theirs!" he cried. "I'll not let ye go." And +there was in his voice the defiance of a man who strives against a +closing fate. + +"Shame on ye, Barnabas!" said Mr. Thorpe; and with that he put his arm +round Margaret. "She's in th' right. If her father's ill, it's a sin to +keep her back. Ye'll have to let her go." + +"I'll not have any man," said Barnabas, "interfere atwixt me an' her. +Not you or any man. Do 'ee think my maid needs you to stand up for her? +Margaret!" + +Meg drew herself up and put her hands to her eyes, as if their vision +were still a little misty. + +"I am sorry I made such a fuss," she said. "I--I was taken by +surprise--I didn't know that father was ill. I should like to think over +the news by myself. No, don't come, please!" And she went out of the +room, shutting the door softly after her. + +"Well! we all seem to ha' got very put about!" Tom said ruefully; but +Mr. Thorpe looked at his younger son with a fiery indignation that, +somehow, brought out an odd likeness between the two men who were +usually so dissimilar. + +"Ye are just mad wi' jealousy o' the poor little lady's own father," he +said. "Ye did her a cruel wrong by marrying her, an' now ye add to it! +Ye were wrong-headed an' obstinate from a lad, Barnabas! I pity the +lass wi' all my heart. She's like a caged bird here, wi' never a chance +o' being set free." + +"There's only one thing 'ud do that," said Barnabas. "The fever might +ha' led to it--but it didn't; it wasn't my fault it didn't. A man hasn't +leave to open that door himsel', but I ha' never ta'en over much care o' +my life." He turned away heavily; his anger, which, after all, was made +up of pain and love, had died as suddenly as it had risen; but he went +out with a sore heart. + +As for Meg, she never hesitated at all. For the last month she had been +beset by doubts and uncertainties; had been wearying herself in trying +to discover an end by which she might unwind the very tangled skein of +her life, growing a little morbid the while in her endeavours, and more +perplexed day by day. Now her doubts were at an end; her heart spoke a +decided, undeniable _must_. If her father was ill, she would go to him. +All the preachers in the world should not prevent her. + +Meg dipped her face in cold water, and poured out a tumblerful and +drank. Her throat ached with the dull ache that means anxiety and unshed +tears. She could not cry, and there was no time to, but her eyes felt +hot. + +"Your father seems to be seriously ill. If I were in your place I should +come." The words, in Mr. Sauls' thick upright handwriting, kept swimming +before her. + +Should she ask Tom to help her? He was angry with her just now; but, +somehow, that silly, vulgar misunderstanding seemed to fade into +nothing, and she knew instinctively that Tom was to be depended on in an +emergency. + +Barnabas might listen to reason from him. He was fonder of his brother +than of any one in the world, except--(and a sudden hot blush rose to +Meg's cheek)--except herself. No! she wouldn't ask Tom. If she chose to +disobey Barnabas, that was between him and her, and _she_ would tell +him. She owed him that, at least. + +The preacher's letter was in her pocket. She tore the envelope open and +wrote inside it in pencil: "I am going to Lupcombe to see my father. I +shall put Molly in the cart and drive myself to N----town. I know that +you told me not to, and that you will all be very angry with me. I will +come back to-night, I promise." Meg's pencil stood still for a moment; +then she underlined the promise. She had room only to think of her +father now, but she knew that she should dread returning. She would bind +the coward in her to come back. + +"And then you can say anything you like, and be angry all the rest of my +life," she wrote. It sounded a little desperate, but there was not time +to consider overmuch; besides, she never made excuses. + +She folded the scrap of paper, and ran up to the attic her husband slept +in, and put her note on a chair. + +His knapsack lay on the floor; mechanically she picked it up and hung it +on the nail; it brought back to her mind their strange honeymoon--the +extraordinary experiences of her first months with him. + +Barnabas had been very good to her then, and, indeed, always till +to-day; and Meg, at the bottom of her heart, understood a little what +to-day's sudden gust of passion meant. + +"He feels as if he were pulling one way, and father, backed by the world +and the devil, I suppose, the other," she said to herself. Well, after +this she would merge her interests in his entirely; there should be no +more serving two masters. Perhaps, if she saw her father once, only +this once more, he would forgive her, and she would be more at peace. + +This one day she would be her own self, her father's Meg; and Margaret +Thorpe for ever afterwards. "But I hope the 'ever afterwards' won't be +very long," she thought. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + + And who shall inherit treasure, + If the measure with which we measure + Is meted to us again? + + +Tom had taught Meg to drive a little; she managed to harness Molly with +some difficulty, and started on the long, lonely road across the +marshes, without any fears. She was never afraid of bodily danger. + +She was not a good driver, her wrists were too weak; they ached +painfully before she was a quarter of the way to N----town, and Molly +began to feel them "give," and pulled the harder, recognising that the +person at the other end of the reins had not so tight a hand as Tom. + +Another hour passed; Meg bit her lips hard, and grew rather pale with +the effort she was making to remain mistress of the situation. Molly +seemed bent on pulling her arms out. The reins cut her fingers; but what +did that matter, when every minute was a minute nearer her father? The +road was level and unfrequented, which was fortunate, for she could not +possibly have managed the mare downhill. + +This last reflection had just occurred to her, when the pace decreased, +giving her a momentary sense of relief, followed, however, by the +horrible discovery that Molly was going very lame. + +A huge, sharp-pointed flint had lodged in the horse's shoe; and what to +do now the poor driver really didn't know. The cart was high, and Molly +was bad at standing; but Meg pulled up in desperation at last, tied the +reins to the seat, and sprang down from the wheel. + +Molly actually did condescend to stop for a minute, though she eyed Meg +very suspiciously, with her ears well back. Meg picked up an old bit of +iron and advanced cautiously. + +"Good horse! so then--quiet there!" she said, with a keen sense of her +inadequacy, and of Molly's entire and contemptuous consciousness of it. +She knelt on the road, and very softly took hold of Molly's fore-leg. +Molly snorted, and stamped impatiently. "Tom lifts her foot right up +with his left hand, and knocks the stone out with his right," Meg said +to herself; "but if Molly won't move that foot, what is one to do?" She +pulled gently, making what were meant to be encouraging and reassuring +noises, when, at the critical moment, a loud guffaw burst from behind +the low mud bank on her left. Molly, started, made a dash forward; and +Meg found herself sitting in the very middle of the dusty high road, +watching horse and cart disappearing in the distance. + +She rubbed her eyes, which were sore with the dust (it was wonderful +that she had not been hurt), and mechanically straightened her bonnet; +then, becoming aware that one of the farm men, "Long John" by name, was +standing staring at her, the ludicrous side of the situation struck her +forcibly, and she began to laugh, though with a laughter that was +perilously near tears. + +"Eh, ma'am, I be main sorry," said Long John. "I doan't knaw how I came +to be such a darned fool. It was hearin' yo' talkin' to Molly so soft, +like as if she wur a Christian, as set me off smilin'; but I didn't +think as she'd ha' tuk to her heels like that, and Maister Tummas he +wull be in a takin'!" + +"Oh, if you will only catch her!" cried Meg. "Do you think that she has +upset the cart? Let us go after her directly." + +She got up, and began to run, Long John following with huge strides and +muttered ejaculations. + +Luckily, Molly had not gone far. They found her about half a mile on. + +"I wonder whether she will let you take the stone out?" said Meg; +whereat John smiled again, but grew grave when he had examined the foot. + +"You've been and gone and done it! It's a bad job; she'll not be fit to +use for the next month at best. Lord now! to think o' Maister Tummas +trustin' ye wi' Molly!" + +"What had better be done?" said Meg. She leaned against the cart, out of +breath with running, while the sun beat down on them, and Molly munched +contentedly, and John entered into an endless disquisition, in which he +conclusively proved that if they drove Molly the twelve miles back to +the farm now, she would be probably lamed for life, and "Maister Tummas" +would never get over it; and he, John, wouldn't be the one to do it! And +if they took her on the three remaining miles to N----town, and put her +up there for a night's rest, there would be keep and stabling to pay +for, and he would not take the responsibility; and, if they stayed where +they were, they were just losing time, when the "poor crittur" ought to +be looked to at once, and nothing could be "worserer nor that". + +"Then we are sure to be doing wrong anyhow, and there doesn't seem to be +a right way?" said the preacher's wife. + +"I wouldn't say as there wur, but there be two bad ways, an' it's for +yo' to choose, ma'am." + +Long John resented the "we," and was determined not to be implicated. + +"I wouldn't ha' ye take my word, nor I'd not ha' Maister Tummas suppose +as I had aught to do wi' it. It's for yo' to say." + +"I am going on, whatever happens," said she; and on they went. + +John took Molly at a foot's pace, and Meg walked at his side. + +He had begun a long story, to which her ears gave a sort of mechanical +attention, while her heart kept urging her to walk faster towards the +goal. + +"It wur your a-layin' hold of her leg as set the mare off," John was +saying. "You wouldn't go fur to say as it wur anyways my fault, would +'ee, ma'am? for Maister Tummas he be fond o' her, and, if I wur to lose +th' place now, wi' my missus lookin' to be i' th' straw come Michaelmas, +it 'ud go hard wi' us surely." + +"It was no one's fault but mine," said Meg. "Oh, when shall we get +there?--You seem very much afraid of Mr. Thomas, John; I thought he was +supposed to be such a good master." + +"Oh, so he be, so he be," said John. "The Thorpes be good maisters, good +friends, an' good enemies. They stick to a mon, they do; not one +belongin' to 'em has been let die i' th' union without it wur his own +fault; but Maister Tummas he doan't use many words when he's angry, and +he ain't often; but I'd not care to face him if I'd lamed Molly, for +last time I broke th' pony's knees he says to me, 'Next time ye'll go, +John!' And he means what he says. And he did near drown me then! So he +did! and I did think o' havin' the law o' him, but he advised me not, +and Maister Tummas' advice is allus good; he's precious sharp. + +"It wur through bein' a bit overtook at Mary's funeral. I come whoam +late, and I doan't mind rightly just how it wur, but I lost the pony on +the road, and all of a suddent I found mysel' under th' pump i' th' +yard; and Maister Tummas wur turnin' the water on, and another mon wur +holdin' me under. Eh, I thought he _had_ murdered me! afore he let me +go, I can tell thee, I hollered out loud, wheniver my mouth was clear o' +th' watter, and he says, 'Naw, naw, doan't let him off too soon; when +he's swallowed as much water as he did rum, happen he'll remember it'. I +tell 'ee, I walked back whoam straight; he scared me sober, but it wur a +cowd winter's mornin', and I wur wet through and through, as if I'd been +in th' river an hour, an' I think he near drownt me. I'd ha' sworn he +wur within an inch o' it. And th' next mornin' I thinks it ower, and I +goes to him and says I, 'Maister, I wur a bit overtook last neet, but +ye'd no right to do that, if I wur; for I bain't no slave, I be a free +Briton as much as thaesel''. And Maister Tummas looks at me so as I had +to keep tellin' mysel' I wur bigger nor he, fur th' way he looks do mak' +a mon feel growin' small; an' says he, 'So ye be, John! Free to be as +drunk as a lord all th' day long, if 'ee likes!' An' says I, 'I'm +thinkin' I'll ha' th' law on ye, Maister Tummas;' and says he, 'Then +ye'll be a bigger fool nor ye look'. + +"'Yo're cruel hard on a mon as has been buryin' his child,' says I; and +Maister Tummas laughs. 'I suppose ye think she's so well off, ye'll be +sendin' the other to join her?' says he. 'What do 'ee mean?' I asks. 'I +never heard as childer con live on grass,' says he, turnin' round +serious like; 'nor as bread cud be got for naught; it doan't grow i' th' +fields hereabouts, ready baked! If I'd gi'en ye the sack i'ste'd o' the +pump, where 'ud they be, eh? Look 'ee here, if ye be a wise mon, ye'll +go to work wi'out more words; an' if ye be a fool, ye con go an' spout +about free Britons i' the public; but, if 'ee do that, doan't talk to me +about your childer, for I shan't tak' 'ee back, an' your big words won't +fill their empty stomachs.' So I went back, an' Maister Tummas an' I war +quits; for he doan't niver cast a thing up when he's done wi' it. +Clemmin' ain't pleasant, an' I hadn't much hankerin' for it arter all. +Howsumever, I doan't drink when I've got his horses now. Naw, naw; I +saves up for Sunday; an' I bain't sure as it ain't th' best way all +round, to tak' one's fill on th' right day. One gets a more thorough +satisfaction out o' one big drink, than i' sips all th' week; doan't 'ee +think so, ma'am?" + +"I daresay," said Meg absently. A passing wonder as to what Barnabas +would have said to this definition of Sunday as pre-eminently "th' right +day for drink" floated through her mind--with also a faint disgust at +the flavour of brutality in the story about Tom; but they were nearing +N----town by this time. In two more hours she might be at Lupcombe! + +It was market day, and the streets were crowded. Meg accompanied Long +John to the stables of the "Pig and Whistle," and saw Molly comfortably +housed. Having lamed her, it was the least she could do. Then she +proceeded to a pawnbroker's. She had the preacher's savings in her +pocket, but she could not touch them. It might be a straining of gnats; +but she wouldn't use his money in an enterprise he objected to. + +She had something else in her purse as well, and that she would part +with, though the parting cost her a pang. + +The diamond-circled miniature that had been stolen from her when a +child; that the preacher had brought back; that was on her neck, when he +and she walked out of Ravenshill together, long, long ago--ah, how long +ago it seemed now!--she could sell that. + +Meg had worn it under her dress every day, and always since she had +married. She had never told Barnabas that she still had it; she had not +forgotten his violent denunciation of the stones bought "with too high a +price"; but she had kept it for her father's sake, and for her father's +sake she would let it go now. + +The diamonds were valuable. The miniature itself was worth a good deal. +Meg did not know how much she ought to get for it, but had a vague idea +that it would more than pay for a carriage and horse to Lupcombe, and +for the return journey, and Molly's stabling. As a matter of fact, she +received rather less than a sixth part of its real value; but it was a +red-letter day for the pawn-broker. She was on the direct road to +Lupcombe at last. She would see her father--beyond _that_?--well, beyond +that might be the deluge. + + * * * * * + +Mrs. Russelthorpe sat by the window of her brother's room. It was a +pretty room; for the guest-room of the parsonage was emphatically "the +best bedroom" of the house. + +She had come down at once on hearing of his illness, but now the patient +was surprisingly better. That most sadly hopeful of diseases had +loosened its hold, and Mr. Deane was as cheerful as possible; indeed, +his sister found him almost irritatingly contented. She was anxious to +get him away from this dangerous neighbourhood. She knew that the +Thorpes lived somewhere in the county; but he, alas! had not the +faintest desire to move. + +She sat and embroidered, her long fingers moving the faster when she +thought; her lips compressed closely. When she glanced at Charles her +face softened. She loathed a sick room; but she was fond of him, even +when he was ill. + +His features, refined by illness, were more painfully like Meg's than +ever; and that made her impatient. + +Certainly she had enough to bother her! Mrs. Russelthorpe could not bear +accepting favours from any one, and here she was compelled to stay under +the stranger's roof indefinitely! + +Charles took it very lightly. He was grateful to his old friend; but the +obligation did not harass him. He was generous and very hospitable +himself, and would have done as much for his host if the circumstances +had been reversed. Besides, he was one of the people who are born +favourites; and even strangers always gave him willing service. As the +old housekeeper remarked, "Mr. Deane was such a gentleman as it was an +honour and pleasure to do for". + +There had been some coldness between him and his sister of late, for he +had strongly disapproved her threatened action concerning her husband's +will. + +"It is not like any of _us_ to take to airing family grievances in +public," he had said proudly; and his reproof had impressed her. + +Charles seldom played the part of mentor; but on the rare occasions when +he did, his words always stung, though they seldom made her alter her +course. + +Presently he woke up and called her. "Sis, I wish you would put down +that work and come nearer; that is"--with the quick thoughtfulness for +other people which never deserted him--"if you won't go out and get some +fresh air; you hate a sick room, I know. Really, it was very good of you +to come." + +"I can't sit with my hands before me," said Mrs. Russelthorpe; but she +brought her chair up to the bedside. "You mustn't talk too much, +Charles." + +"On the whole," said Mr. Deane smiling, "I should prefer dying of +talking, to dying of dulness." + +"There is no question of dying!" + +"No," he answered. "I feel like Mother Hubbard's dog; 'she went to the +joiner's to buy him a coffin; and, when she came back, the dog was +a-laughin''. I'm getting well with indecent haste! I shall go downstairs +soon; but, all the same, there was a question of it three days ago,--as +we both know well enough!" + +"The danger is past now, and there is no need to dwell on it," said his +sister, with a sharp closing of the subject, and with that accent of +finality in her voice which Charles was generally either too +sweet-tempered or too lazy to resist. + +To-day, however, he persisted, though he stretched out his hand towards +her, with the half-playful tenderness that endeared him especially to +the women of his own family. + +"Poor sis! You hate to be reminded that I am mortal; and, what is more, +a mortal with an even less certain tenure of life than most; but I don't +want to shirk facts myself; indeed, they've presented themselves so very +forcibly lately that it would hardly be possible. Of course, I've known +for the last five years that I am--well, we'll say the cracked pitcher, +that may last the longest; I will put it that way to please you; but may +go with a touch. But it's one thing to know that one may die any day, +and another to know that the day is not possibly, but most probably +within hailing distance. I think I have never been much afraid of Death; +but the sight of him quite close does purge one's vision. It makes +realities clearer, and the things that don't matter dwindle away. It is +good for any man to see in right proportion for once in a way. Don't you +think so?" + +"My dear Charles, if you are talking about your soul, and your sins, and +all that kind of thing, no doubt a serious illness may make you feel +their importance; though I can't say I think you needed it. But if you +are talking about practical affairs, never trust to decisions made when +you are out of health: illness does _not_ make the vision clearer; it +renders one liable to foolish weakness and error of judgment!" + +"Spoken like a Solomon!" said Mr. Deane, laughing. He looked at her with +a gleam of fun from the bed where he lay stretching out a hand to play +with the silks on her lap. "I am sure, by the great vigour with which +you delivered yourself of that maxim, that you are horribly afraid I +have some 'foolish weakness' in view. Well--I've been thinking about my +Meg." + +Mrs. Russelthorpe sat more upright; her needle flew quicker still. + +"She is not yours any more," she said, with a hard ring in her voice. +"And it is an unprofitable subject for meditation. She concerns us no +longer." + +"So I have said," he answered; "but, after all, nothing in this world, +or, I hope, in the next, can do away with the fact of fatherhood. It +goes deeper than one's hurt pride. You see," in a low voice, "it is the +eternal fact that one turns to oneself at the last. It is the root of +all things." + +His face flushed while he spoke, for he was not a man who talked often +of his religious beliefs; his sister had never known him touch on them +before. + +"I wish you wouldn't excite yourself," she answered coldly, after a +minute's silence. "To say nothing can do away with the parent's duty to +his child is nonsense! God Himself doesn't claim to be the Father of the +impenitent and disobedient--though I think it presumption to bring Him +into a discussion. Are you weak enough to want to give the preacher's +wife your blessing and forgiveness unasked? Probably that is what her +husband reckoned on, that you would be very angry for a time, and then +come round, and take it easily." + +She was startled by the sudden passion in her brother's voice. + +"Do you think I take it _easily_?" he said. "Don't you know that I would +rather--yes, ten times rather have seen my child in her coffin, than +have lost her so? No, no, I don't want to send for her; where would be +the use? If she is happy, what have I to say? If she is unhappy--why, as +we sow, so we must reap--both she and I, both father and child. She +knows that too, I expect. My poor Meg! Ah well" (with a sudden change of +tone), "Meg has made a mess of her life; but even you must allow, sis, +that if it hadn't been for me, she wouldn't have had a life to make a +mess of, eh? You can't get over that!" + +"What are all these truisms leading up to?" inquired Mrs. Russelthorpe +drily. She was immensely relieved to hear that he did not meditate +sending for Meg; she felt she could breathe again. Mr. Deane leaned back +on his pillows; his earnestness had tired him, and he was silent for a +few minutes. Then:-- + +"No doubt I have been talking platitudes!" he said. "You mustn't expect +an invalid to be strikingly original! I can't be brilliant in bed; and +old truths impress one with new force when one lies face to face +with--Oh yes, I said that before, didn't I? Well, when one is up and +about, one is impressed by such a variety of things, and I have always +detested business! Do you know that I've never made my will till now, +though I've thought of it often enough! I sent for Mr. Sauls to witness +it for me, and he is coming this evening. He has been staying at +N----town. Our host has asked him to dine by-the-bye; I will finish the +job this time!" + +"Mr. Sauls! You might have spared me that!" + +"Oh, you needn't see him. Say that I like your company, which is quite +true, and have dinner up here with me. I wrote a line to him before you +came, when--well, when I thought there wasn't much time to lose. If one +doesn't strike when the iron is hot, the chances are that one doesn't +strike at all!" + +"I don't see that, Charles." + +"No? It doesn't apply to you," with a smile. "I meant only myself and +Meg. Well, sis, I don't want _my_ will to be a shock to you, for you and +I have always been friends, haven't we?" + +Mrs. Russelthorpe's work fell on her knees; she turned to him with an +expression which no one but her brother ever saw. + +"I've liked you better than any one else _always_," she said +deliberately. + +"Poor old Joseph!" thought Mr. Deane; but aloud he said: "Yes, I know +that; that's why I am telling you about my affairs. Sauls wants me to +leave to _her_ the same amount I shall leave to her sisters. You needn't +exclaim! Sauls isn't a bad fellow, but I don't know why he should +interfere. I've thought it all over. I have left Meg something--very +little--and unconditionally." + +"You are very kind to Barnabas Thorpe. He will benefit." + +"Yes," said her brother gravely. "I have not tried to prevent it; he +must benefit. I think Joseph made a mistake, though he meant kindly to +my daughter, and I think Meg was right to refuse the money under such +conditions. The preacher is her husband, her duty is to him now, +and--well, both she and I have done rash things in plenty; but I hope +that neither of us is mean enough to try to shirk the consequences. What +I have left her will be something to fall back on if she is ill or in +sudden need; not enough to lift her out of his sphere, out of the +position she has chosen. I longed to make it more, but I have not done +so. Laura and Kate will be all the richer; but I will not have Meg think +that I have left off caring for her." + +A wave of anger, hot and strong as ever, made his sister's hand shake +for a moment; even now, she felt that Meg--unworthy, wicked as Meg had +proved--stood between herself and her brother. Meg had always stood +"between" from the time her baby hands had clung to him, and pushed Aunt +Russelthorpe away, seventeen long years before. + +"I have also left to her the things that were her mother's," he +continued. "They are of no worth in themselves, and neither of the +others would value them much. Laura and Kate are not sentimental, and +you were not fond of their mother, sis. Meg will understand why I have +left them to her. Poor little Meg! when I am dead she will understand." + +Mrs. Russelthorpe rose abruptly. "I am glad you have not been so +wickedly weak as to give her an equal share with her sisters, anyhow!" +she remarked. "Mr. Sauls should be taught to mind his own business! As +for caring for her still, that's culpable folly, I consider, and +injustice too. What is the use of being good, if good and bad are to be +loved alike? She ought to be punished, she ought to suffer." + +"Ah!" said Mr. Deane. "No fear that she won't suffer enough! We fools +who make mistakes always pay heavily, even when we make them from pure +motives. Mistakes cost as dearly as crimes, I think; in this world +anyhow! As for badness, who dares say what is sin, and what error? or +divide the blame? I ought to come in for the largest share, I suppose, +seeing that Meg inherited her failings from me! I shall stick to the +'culpable folly' of still loving my poor little daughter. It's a pity +you don't like it. You never liked me to be fond of Meg." + +"It's not that at all," said his sister angrily; "but, thank God, no +amount of affection could ever blind me to the difference between right +and wrong." + +"I think, perhaps," said Mr. Deane, "that one day even you--and I own +you are much more consistent and better than I am--may feel inclined +rather to thank Him that He is more merciful than men--or women. Are you +going?" + +"You've talked more than enough, Charles." + +"I've taken a most mean advantage of my position. What a shame! And +you've had to put up with me because I am in bed. I won't do it any +more. Shall you have your dinner up here?" + +"No," said Mrs. Russelthorpe. "Why should I? That Mr. Sauls is underbred +and self-assertive at times is no reason for my being driven out of the +dining-room, or allowing myself to fail in courtesy to our host. Don't +laugh like that, Charles! You are making yourself cough." + +"I beg your pardon, sis," said he; "but I wish--oh, I wish!--I could be +there to see the encounter! Sauls is a pretty stiff antagonist too! I +wonder which would get the best of a tussle? I think you would; but I am +not sure--really, I am not sure." + +"There will be no 'tussle'. Mr. Sauls is too much a man of the world to +show any awkwardness at meeting me," said she. And she did him justice, +for George betrayed no embarrassment whatever; though the last rather +unpleasant interview she had had with him about Mr. Russelthorpe's will +was forgotten by neither of them. They dined at three at Lupcombe. In +London, six o'clock dinners were the fashion; but fashions took longer +in creeping into the country when they had to travel at eight miles an +hour. + +Mr. Bagshotte's guests were both good talkers. The pleasant tournament +of wit, which was a trifle sharp-edged occasionally, went on briskly all +dinner time, and the old gentleman believed them charmed to see each +other. He got out his favourite Latin quotations,--it was George who +gave him the opportunity; and he promised with great satisfaction to +show Mr. Sauls the ancient brasses in the middle aisle. + +Mrs. Russelthorpe secretly wondered what this very clever lawyer hoped +to gain by playing up to the parson. But, to tell the truth, he expected +to get nothing; he never grudged trouble where either his friends or his +enemies were concerned. + +The two men went into the quiet old church after the meal was over, +where George examined all that was to be seen with great patience and +minuteness. If he had only guessed! If he had had the faintest inkling +of what was happening in the garden not much more than a stone's throw +away, neither brasses nor parson would have held him long. + +There seems an especially unkind irony about the fate that makes us lose +a chance by only a stone's throw. + +Mrs. Russelthorpe took no interest in brasses; she had a horror of +"relics" of any kind. She left Mr. Bagshotte and Mr. Sauls to their own +devices; and, her brother being asleep, planted her chair on the lawn +with its back to the churchyard, so that she faced the front gate, which +stood hospitably open to the village street. + +She had had a hard time of it lately; and hard times often, perhaps in +the majority of cases, have a hardening rather than a softening effect. +Mrs. Russelthorpe always felt that Providence made an unjustifiable +mistake when she was visited with affliction. + +Her morning's talk with her brother had left an unpleasant impression on +her mind, and she reflected impatiently on the way in which, when one +wishes to get rid of a haunting thought, everything combines to recall +it. The reflection was called forth by a pale thin woman in a black +dress who came along the village street, who held her head like a Deane, +like Meg in fact, and walked like her too. Somehow, at the first moment, +it did not strike Mrs. Russelthorpe that it _was_ Meg. + +The woman turned in at the gate; stood still when she saw Mrs. +Russelthorpe, lifted her head, looking straight at her, and: "I have +come to see my father," she said. "Is he better or worse?" + +Mrs. Russelthorpe rose to her feet, her face a little pale; the +antagonism that had never died, and scarcely slept, alert as ever, and a +passionate determination bracing her soul. This woman should _not_ see +Charles! What! after dragging his name in the dust, and after linking it +with that of a preaching vagabond, after setting at defiance all decency +and obedience, she would "go to her father"! And he, he would be weak +enough to forgive her. Illness had unmanned him; though men were always +weaker than women, especially where Meg was concerned. + +"My brother is better," she said slowly. "You have lost the right to +call him father. You cannot go to him. He will not see you." + +Meg shook her head with a faint smile, and walked on up the path to the +front door. Her old fear of 'Aunt Russelthorpe' was dead. She recognised +with a momentary surprise that she had lived past all that. + +Mrs. Russelthorpe made a quick step forward and caught her by the arm. +She too knew instinctively that she could not coerce or overawe this +sad-eyed woman, as she had often coerced the girl long ago; but she +could still win the day, and she would. + +"Margaret," she cried; "do you--do even you want to kill him?" And +Margaret paused. + +The two women looked in each other's eyes; both were unflinching and of +set purpose, but Mrs. Russelthorpe had still the advantage, for she +could "hit below the belt". + +"It may actually and literally be his death warrant, if he should be +awakened suddenly. He is sleeping now," she said. "I do not want to +carry any message from you, Margaret. There need be no pretence of love +between you and me. Yet I will go in and prepare him, if you choose. +When he wakes, I will say to him whatever you wish me, and I will bring +you his answer. Go now, if you like, and force your way in and startle +him. The choice is between your own wilfulness and his safety. It rests +with you." + +She let go her hold on Meg's arm, on completing her sentence. She had +gained her point. + +"I will wait for you," said Meg. "I will sit here on the doorstep till +he sends for me. Only promise that you will take my words as I give +them; that you will add nothing, nor take away anything; that you will +not try to persuade him not to see me. You swear it?" + +She did not move her eyes from her aunt's face; and long after, Mrs. +Russelthorpe could not close her own without seeing them. Ah, how Meg +had altered! + +"I will add nothing to your message, nor take away from it," she +repeated. + +"Then I promise too," said Meg. "If he says he will not see me I will go +away--but he will." Her voice shook. "I know that my father will." + +"Well," said Mrs. Russelthorpe; "I am waiting." + +Meg covered her face with her hands. "Ah, it will sound differently when +you say it," she cried. "Tell him I only beg to see him once more; that +I do so long to! That I have thought of him. That I have wanted him +often. That I _know_ that he has not forgotten me. That, when I heard he +was ill, I could not stay away--I could not! but it is only for a +moment. I must ask him to forgive me. Then I will go back, because I +have promised," said Meg with a sudden choke, "and because I am _his_ +daughter." + +Mrs. Russelthorpe turned silently away; and Meg sat down on the doorstep +and waited, her eyes fixed unseeingly on the grey church, where the +parson and George Sauls were dawdling over inscriptions. + +How long she waited she did not know; it might have been half an hour, +it might have been five minutes; but she had no doubt as to the result +of the message: she could never quite outlive her faith in her father. + +She sprang to her feet on hearing a step behind her. "He is awake!" she +cried. Her aunt looked away from her; past her into the garden. + +"Yes," she said in a dry voice. "He is awake--but he will not see you." + +Meg drew her breath quickly, as if she had been physically hurt. "He--he +did not mean it," she said. "You have not understood--he did not mean +that--he will not. Tell me the words he said." + +"He said," said Mrs. Russelthorpe, "'Where would be the use? If she is +happy, what have I to say? If she is unhappy--why, as we sow, we reap; +both she and I, both father and child.' Those were his very words--and +he was right." + +Meg looked at her with a strange mournful smile. "Oh, yes, he was right. +Tell father he was quite right." And she turned and went. + + * * * * * + +The parson and Mr. Sauls came back to the parsonage five minutes later. +Mrs. Russelthorpe was still standing in the garden; and Mr. Sauls, whose +short-sighted eyes saw rather more than most people's, noticed at once +that she looked worn and tired. + +"Is Mr. Deane worse?" he asked. + +"Oh no; I believe he is still sleeping," she said; "I will go and see." +And this time she really went. + +Her brother was sitting upright, flushed and rather excited. + +"Sis, has any one been here?" he asked, the moment that she entered the +room. "No? Ah well, it was fancy then--but--but I thought I heard my +little daughter call me." The flush faded away; he lay back again +disappointed. The wish was father to the thought! + +"Charles," she cried, with an eagerness that surprised him, "do let us +go away from this place! You will never be yourself till you have left +it behind. If we travel by very easy stages I really think we might +leave to-morrow. It seems a sudden idea on my part," she went on +hurriedly; "but, indeed, the house is not healthy; I am convinced of +it. I have had violent headaches ever since I have been here, and you +are aware that I am not in the least liable to such ailments. I do not +remember ever having felt like this before, and I cannot sleep or eat +properly. Then, too, we are putting our kind host to immense +inconvenience. The position is intensely awkward for me, though I have +refrained from saying so. As for the stories about the fever, they are +simply shocking--half the village died of it. I am not nervous; but it +is really horrible to find every person one meets in mourning for some +near relative." + +Mr. Deane looked at her in undisguised astonishment. + +"Why, my dear, I've never in my life before seen you possessed of a +whim," he cried. "If it were not you, sis, I should say that it was a +feminine attack of 'nerves'." And, to his farther surprise, she actually +accepted the suggestion. + +"I suppose it is," she said. "There, I own it; your illness has shaken +me. I feel as if I could not possibly bear this dismal house any longer. +All the family who used to live here are gone, and are buried just +outside the gates. It is too melancholy; I dream of funerals! Do go, do +go! You will be well as soon as we get away. You shall have no trouble; +I will arrange everything. I will explain to our host, only let us go! +Dear Charles, do let us go to-morrow." + +Her voice trembled with unwonted earnestness, and Charles was much +amazed and rather touched; it was so utterly unlike her to show any +weakness of this kind, to stoop to entreaties. She must, indeed, have +been anxious about him, since anxiety had so unnerved her. He had always +been sure, he said to himself, that, in spite of what some people said, +his sister was very warm-hearted in reality. + +"Well, I daresay it won't hurt me. We'll go, if you want it so much, +sis," he replied gently. "That is the least I can do for you, after all +you've done for me." + +And go they did, in spite of the parson's protestations, and in spite of +a soft rain that fell continuously as if to damp Mrs. Russelthorpe's +ardour, by literally pouring cold water on it. + +Mr. Sauls, when he looked in to inquire after Mr. Deane on the following +morning, was amused at the sudden exodus. + +"Odd that such a hard woman should be such a coward about illness!" he +remarked. "She is horribly afraid of infection,--I've noticed that; and +she is selfish to the core!" + +"Mrs. Russelthorpe's decision is rather overpowering," said the parson +drily. It was the nearest approach he allowed himself to an unfavourable +comment on his late guest. "I am sorry Deane has gone. It is seldom I +get any visitors here; though, by-the-bye, I had an odd one last +night--or, rather, early this morning. Mr. Thorpe, the preacher's +father, walked in about two o'clock and begged to see me. He came to +inquire whether his daughter-in-law was here. The old man must have got +some mad fancy in his head. I have heard he is queer at times. Well, I +persuaded him that she had never been near us, and he drew himself up +and said quite quietly: 'Oh, it's all right, sir; she's sleeping wi' +some friends at N----. She told us, that, maybe, she'd do that; quite +right o' her. I'm glad of it!' And off he went, with an apology for +having troubled me. A gentlemanly old fellow too!" + +"Why!" cried George, with a flash of conviction; "are you certain that +she has not been here? Don't you know that Barnabas Thorpe's wife is Mr. +Deane's daughter?" + +The parson started. They were standing in the garden on the very spot +where Meg had pleaded in vain. + +"Yes, yes, I know; though it seems impossible!" + +"It ought to have been. There I quite agree with you; but, to the elect, +'all things are possible,' you know," said George Sauls bitterly. + +The parson was too intent on his own thoughts to notice the sneer. "No +one was here yesterday; I should have heard of it if she had come. I was +hardly out of the rectory grounds all day. Eh? What? What is it, Brown?" + +The gardener had come up behind them and touched his hat, with the air +of having something to say. + +"I beg your pardon, sir; there was some one as come here yesterday, +while you and the gentleman was in the church," he said. "I come back +into the garden after fetching the key for you, and there was a young +woman a-standing here, just where the gentleman is now. I noticed her +particular, for she wasn't one from the village; and she seemed in great +trouble, and she sort of stretched out her hands, broken-hearted like; +and Mrs. Russelthorpe was sending her away, which seemed queer, seeing +it ain't her house, and----" + +"That will do," said the parson. "Mrs. Russelthorpe's affairs are no +concern of yours, Brown; or mine," he added to George, as soon as the +man had retired somewhat crestfallen. + +"Perhaps Mr. Deane did not wish to see his daughter. God bless me! To +think of _his_ daughter! Deane doesn't look a hard man either. I wonder +whether,--but it's not my business." + +Mr. Sauls smiled, not very pleasantly. "You wonder whether Mr. Deane +knew she had been sent away?" he said. "I don't wonder about it, sir; +but I'll tell you one thing,--if he didn't, he _shall_ know!" + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + + I do not see them here; but after death + God knows I know the faces I shall see, + Each one a murdered self, with low last breath, + I am thyself, what hast thou done to me? + And I--and I--thyself (Lo! each one saith), + And thou thyself to all eternity. + + --_Rossetti._ + + +As for Meg, she turned her face towards the farm again, and of that +journey back she never liked to think so long as she lived. + +There are griefs we outlive, whose dead faces we can bear to look on, +recognising that they are dead; but there are some hours of pain we can +never look at overmuch, even through the merciful veil of many years, as +there are some joys which we know will be ours always, so long as we are +ourselves, those sharpest pains and joys which touch the eternal in us, +and make us realise what is meant by the "doing away of time". + +That her father _would_ not see her, even if she entreated him, had been +the one thing that had not seemed possible to the daughter who loved +him. + +During the long drive back to N----town, his message kept running in her +head: "As we sow, so we must reap;--both she and I; both father and +child". + +It was burnt into her brain and into her heart. She saw it when she shut +her eyes; she heard it when she stopped her ears. + +"It is the hopeless law of all one's life," she thought. "And there is +no going against it. Father does not even try to. He might have tried! +No, no; it was not his fault. He was right." + +And as she had attempted a hundred times before in her girlhood to +justify him to herself when he might have stood up for his daughter and +did not, so her tired brain tried to justify him now. + +She would rather believe that she was too bad for forgiveness, than that +he had not depth of affection enough to be forgiving. + +She was terribly anxious about him too. Mrs. Russelthorpe had said that +he was better; but then she had also declared that it might be his +"death warrant" if he were suddenly awaked. Surely _that_ did not sound +as if he were out of danger. She went over the whole interview again, +and had just got to the climax for the twentieth time, when the stopping +of the carriage brought her with a jerk from the garden at Lupcombe to +the busy street of N----town, and the entrance of the "Pig and +Whistle". + +"Have we arrived?" said Meg, getting out as if she were in a dream. "I +thought we had just started!" + +The landlord, who had bustled to the door at the sound of wheels, looked +at her inquisitively. The preacher's wife, about whom there was a very +romantic story, had always interested him. He had thought her a very +gentle-mannered and sweet-voiced woman, and, for his part, rather +admired her funny accent and "foreign" ways. He was full of wonder just +now. It was only the gentry who ordered carriages in that way. The idea +of Barnabas Thorpe's wife posting to Lupcombe! A fifteen-shilling drive! +But he had seen the gold in her purse; she had evidently enough money to +pay. + +How very sad she looked! The distressed expression in her eyes touched +him. "Come in, ma'am, and have a sup o' some'ut," he said +good-naturedly. "The 'eat's been too much for you! I wouldn't ask a lady +into the bar; an' I know as Barnabas Thorpe's wife won't touch good +liquor; but, if you'll honour me by coming into the parlour, I'll bring +you a cup of tea in a trice. You look fit to drop; and, if I might make +so bold, just one atom of brandy in it would be neither here nor there, +and would do you no harm at all. Now I won't take 'No,' ma'am, though +your husband do try to damage my trade. Just you come in and sit a bit, +while the horse is changed." + +"Thank you," said Meg. "The sun is too hot I suppose, and the bustle +makes one feel giddy." + +The clock in the market-place struck seven while she was speaking; the +sun's rays were certainly not overpowering now, whatever they had been; +and a great bank of thunder-clouds was steadily rising in the east. + +The landlord glanced from her to the sky, and mopped his forehead with +his handkerchief. + +"You're like my wife, ma'am," he said. "She'd feel for you, only she's +been in the cellar this last half-hour,--on account of the storm, I +mean," he added hastily. "Thunder always upsets her. Come along this +way, ma'am. You do look poorly!" + +His visitor followed, still rather as if she were not quite certain +where she was. Meg, indeed, never knew exactly how she got into that +little back parlour; but the tea, which was guilty of more than a drop +of brandy, revived her. Her father's message left off sounding in her +ears, the garden at Lupcombe became less painfully distinct, and she +suddenly remembered that she had fasted since she had started in the +morning; and this, possibly, was why she felt faint. + +Her host nodded approvingly when she ordered something to eat. Meg's +head ached so that she could not calculate how much money she ought to +have left; but she knew that there should be more than enough to pay for +a meal. + +She dived to the bottom of her pocket: her purse must be there; it had +her husband's savings in it, as well as the price of her diamonds. She +could not have done anything so dreadful as to lose his hard-won +earnings! Besides, she had not paid her bill. She pulled out her +handkerchief, and then the pocket itself, inside out. She was staring +blankly at it when the landlord bustled back. + +He guessed at once what had happened. The empty pocket suggested it. He +was good-natured and consolatory, but overflowing with curiosity when he +heard that she had had it last at the pawnbroker's. + +Mrs. Thorpe at the Jew's over the way! What would the Thorpes have said, +had they known? He wondered whether the poor young thing had got herself +into some scrape, and heartily pitied her, if she had; but _his_ money +was safe anyhow; he knew the family well enough to be very sure of that. +He could afford to take it easily. + +"Come, come," he said, on her refusing to eat because she "hadn't a +penny left to pay with," "I'm not so poor, thank goodness, that I can't +afford to wait till next time Tom Thorpe drives his foals to market; +and, if they'd wish you to starve, it's a crying shame, ma'am, and I'd +not have thought it of them. I've never heard that the Thorpes weren't +open-handed." + +"They are all most generous," said Meg quickly, and she ate the slice of +beef. Certainly, whatever her fears were, she did not imagine that any +of her relatives-in-law would have grudged it to her. She could not let +that imputation rest on them. + +The food brought a tinge of colour to her face, and she regained her +usual gentle dignity of manner. She would not allow this good gossip, +who asked a great many questions, to fancy that she was terrified at +going back. It would not be fair to Barnabas! + +How miserable she really was it would be hard to say. The more she +thought of it, the more her shrinking from what was before her grew. + +She pictured Tom's repressed contempt, and Barnabas passionately angry, +as when he had thrashed Timothy. She dreaded the way they would all ask +about her father--whether she had found him, and why not; and then, with +a horror of loneliness, she remembered that she could never even try to +see him again now. "As she had sowed, so she must reap!" Ah, it was +beginning again! Meg rose hastily. + +"I promised that I would go back to-night," she said, "and I must go. I +meant to drive; I had enough money of my own to pay for that--but I have +lost it, and my husband's too, which is worse. He will have to pay a +very long bill for me as it is." And Meg blushed painfully. "I don't +want to run up any more debts. What would be the cheapest possible way +of getting home--if I don't walk?" + +"Walk!" said the landlord, "you don't look fit to walk a quarter of a +mile, let alone fifteen! I'd provide you a trap very reasonable, ma'am, +though it's late to be going all that way now--or--oh! here's Johnny +Dale back; I sent him about the purse--well, have they got it?" + +"Dun knaw nothin' 'bout it, theer," he answered, with a slow stare at +Meg, who, on her part, was filled with a vague recollection of having +seen this boy at the farm. "Granny's got round again. Will 'ee tell the +preacher so?" he said suddenly, breaking into a broad grin. "And will +'ee tell Maister Tummas that I'm doin' well, and gettin' five shillings +a quarter besides my keep, and granny's uncommon obligated to him for +gettin' me th' place, and she's over here to-day marketing?" + +"Ay, so she be; and that's how you can get back, ma'am," cried the +landlord. "Why, Granny Dale 'ull have to pass within a mile of +Caulderwell. She could put you down at the cross path, if you could run +that bit in the dark. I'll be bound she'll do that much for your +husband's sake, though that donkey of hers is precious slow; you won't +be there afore eleven. Here, Johnny, where is that granny o' yours? In +the bar, eh? She doan't hold with the preacher's principles 'cept when +she's by way o' dying, the old sinner! But the donkey'll take you back +safe. Shall I go and find her? Though I don't know," he added +doubtfully; "Granny Dale's a queer sort of company for a lady like you." + +And he went on his mission, the preacher's wife thanking him with the +pretty gratitude that won his liking. He little guessed that, at the +bottom of her heart, Mrs. Thorpe would have rejoiced to know that she, +personally, would never get home again. + +It was very late when the donkey cart at last started. Granny Dale was a +most erratic old dame. She would not be hurried--"Not for twenty Mrs. +Thorpes". + +Her voice sounded suspiciously thick, and she smoked a short clay pipe. +She was horribly dirty, and smelt of gin. Meg hardly noticed her, though +at any other time she would have been disgusted. + +The reins hung loose in the woman's gnarled hands, that were brown and +knotted like the branches of one of the stunted trees of that country. + +The donkey trotted on steadily with a responsible air. On he went +through the street, where the passersby remarked on granny's companion, +and where granny herself took the pipe from her lips to shout facetious +observations in the broadest of dialect to her acquaintances. On into +the open country again, where the view of the sky broadened, and one +could see how the thunder-clouds were piled up, solid and threatening, +like the battlements of a city--great purple masses, divided only in one +place by a narrow red rift. + +Granny pointed towards them with her whip. "Theer be a starm coomin' +oop," she said. "Are yo' fleyed o' the thunder?" + +Meg made no reply; she was thinking of many things past and to come. She +_was_ "fleyed"--but not of the thunder. + +"An' if yo' wur th' queen hersel', yo' moight fash yersel' to answer +when yo're spoke to!" cried granny with a sudden burst of fury. "Eh, I +know what they all says, that ye be quality born, an' ran awa' wi' +Barnabas Thorpe!--an gradely fule he wur that day!--and that yo've pined +ever since. An', if yo' wur all th' quality o' th' land, theer's no call +to be so high as not to hear a body as talks to 'ee--wastin' my good +words, treatin' me loike th' dirt under yo' feet, who am nothin' o' th' +soart! 'specially"--indignantly--"when yo're ridin' i' my donkey cart!" + +"I am very sorry," said Meg, effectually roused this time. "I didn't +know you were speaking to me; I was thinking of something else. +Indeed,"--seeing that the excuse was likely to provoke a fresh +storm,--"I didn't mean to be 'high' in the least; but,"--seizing on the +point in her misfortunes most likely to appeal to granny's +sympathies--"I lost my purse in the town, and it had money of my +husband's in it." + +"Eh!" said granny, twisting round in her seat and taking the pipe out of +her mouth. "Theer's a pretty business! That do gi'e 'ee some'ut to think +abeawt surely. My man 'ud ha' beaten me black and blue if I'd ha' done +that; he wur free wi' his blows, Jacob wur, 'specially in his cups; but +the preacher's noan o' that soart." + +"No," said Meg; "he is not that sort." In a lighter mood she would have +smiled at the statement. She was not afraid of physical violence. Even +in her wildest terrors (and Meg's imagination was apt to become +unreasonable in proportion to the overstrain on her bodily powers) she +knew that _that_ would be as impossible to Barnabas as to her own +father. + +Yet granny's suggestion, like Long John's story of "Maister Tummas," +presented the more brutal side of life to her, and depressed her yet +further. She shrank with increasing nervousness from the thought of that +alien element of roughness at the farm. + +She was fearfully tired; and, in the reaction from the excitement of the +morning, could fight no longer against a melancholy that swept over her, +as the clouds steadily rising from the east swept over the sky. + +She saw the rest of her life in as unnatural and lurid a light as that +which now lay in a streak across the marshes, and in which the polished +stalks of the marsh grass shone red. + +"There is such a glare under the clouds! how it makes one's eyes ache!" +she said; and then she became aware that her charioteer was giving her a +great deal of highly seasoned advice on her behaviour to her husband. + +Granny hated all ladies. She hated them even in their natural place. She +had an old and standing grudge against them. But when they chose to +descend from their unassailable platform--when they were silly enough +to force themselves into the grade of honest workers--then they ought to +be made to mend their ways, and eat humble pie in large mouthfuls--not +to keep up their old airs and insult their betters. + +"Oh, I know," said Meg, speaking more to herself than to granny; "but I +can't help being different from the others; I have tried, but it is of +no use. There are things one can do, and things one can't do; the thing +I have tried I can't!" + +And granny had no more idea what hopelessness lay in that confession +than if Meg had spoken in a foreign language. It even irritated her the +more, as a fresh avowal of a claim to the "fine-ladyism" which to her +was like a red rag to a bull. + +"Can't help!" she cried. "An' let me tell 'ee this, young woman, if I +wur your husband I'd mak' yo' help it. Ah, an' he wull one day. You +think the preacher's made of naught but butter; but yo'll find out +theer's more nor that in him. It's all fine for a while. Oh yes, I've +he'rd o' yo're stand-off ways wi' him; but a mon 'ull ha' some +satisfaction from the woman he feeds and clothes. I suppose you've not +thought o' that? Ye fancy becos ye are young, and ha' got eyes that look +as if they saw through stone walls, that ye can do as ye like wi' a mon! +An' so 'ee con, so 'ee con for a bit; but it's only fur a bit wi' ony of +'em, it don't last. Eh, I knaw. I con tell thee, I wur a greater beauty +than ever yo' wur, my lass; and Jacob wur as big a fule over me afore he +married as ever yo' see'd; an', afore that I'd been his'n a month, he +kicked me so that----" + +"I don't want to hear, please!" said Meg; but granny laughed scornfully, +and proceeded with the recital. Whether because she took a fierce +pleasure in shocking her companion's sensibilities, or because she +thought it would be good for the lady to realise what she might have had +to suffer if Barnabas hadn't been "softer nor some," she spared no +details. + +"It wur no marvel Timothy wur born quare," said granny; "he wur cliverer +than most to live at all, poor lad; tho' ye do look down on 'im." And +there was a kind of fierce affection in that last speech; a defiant love +for the lad she had born in the midst of sore mis-usage, that woke Meg's +pity more than the horrible stories of gross cruelty that had been +poured into her unwilling ears. + +"But all men are not like that, granny," she said at last. + +"Naw; some be too fur th' other way abeaut," said granny. "Barnabas +Thorpe 'ud ha' brought yo' to knaw yo're place by now, ef he'd made ye +feel him maister; but he won't stand yo' for ever, an' so I tell 'ee; +and he'll be i' th' right too. Yo' con go on talking i' that quare +mincing way, as a body can't understan'; yo' con go on lookin' as if ye +weren't made o' th' same stuff as us (just because ye've been fed and +pampered all yo're life), and pretending not to hear what's said to 'ee, +and holdin' him off wi' yo're airs; but he'll be sick o' that one day, +and where 'ull yo're foine ladyship be then?" + +"I don't know," said Meg apathetically. "Perhaps I shall have learned +not to feel any more. People can't go on caring about things always, I +suppose. One will grow old some day, mercifully." + +And she looked at the witch-like old hag beside her, who had been the +country beauty once, and whose husband had kicked her when he was tired +of her (within a month), and who had found consolation in smoking and +drinking. "Or perhaps I may die," she said; "which would be much +better!" + +A flash of lightning almost blinded her, even while she spoke, and the +quickly following crash of thunder drowned her last words. + +Granny leaned forward, shifting the whip in her hand, and struck the +donkey with the butt end. + +"We'll just get to th' miser's hut i' time," she said; "but I'll put ye +out o' the cart if ye talk o' death in a thunder-starm; it's temptin' +the Lard." + +It was quite dark now, except when the lightning opened the sky, and +momentarily lighted up the stretch of marsh land. The donkey's pace +quickened, and Meg held on to the side of the cart, while they jolted +rapidly over the uneven track. What a tiny speck they seemed under that +vast canopy of cloud! + +Every other living thing was in hiding, except a gull, flying inland, +and very close to the ground. + +Meg heard its harsh cry, and saw, with a thrill of envy, the gleam of +the white wings as it swept past. + +"'Oh that I had wings like a dove; for then would I fly away and be at +rest.'" But there was no flying away for her, no escaping the slow +reaping that would follow the hasty sowing, so surely as the thunder +followed the flash. Ah, there it was again, running along the ground +like a fiery serpent; and the thunder, this time, seemed to burst close +to their ears, and fill the whole air, and shake the earth. + +They were at the deserted hut now; and Granny Dale got down and took the +trembling beast out of the shafts, and led him in. + +She had much more sympathy with her donkey than with Meg, who further +tried her temper by standing at the entrance to the hut watching. + +The old woman crouched down on the mud floor by the fireplace, rocking +to and fro, muttering something that was meant for a prayer, and casting +malevolent glances at the figure in the doorway. The donkey rubbed his +head on her shoulder; he too was "fleyed o' the starm," which increased +in fury every minute. + +"Look 'ee here," she cried at last, "I'll ha' no more o' this. It ain't +fittin' to gape at the Lard's judgments, as if they wur a show, and it +'ull bring Him down on us. I won't be struck cos o' yo', and yo'r +uncanny ways. Come in, like a Christian, an' say yo'r prayers, and hide +yo'r eyes; or else be gwon wi' you; an' a good riddance!" + +The lightning lighted up Meg's pale face as she turned round; the +sadness of her expression struck granny afresh. "Theer be some'ut +unlucky about 'ee," she cried. "I'm wishful I'd not brought ye; I doubt +ye'll not bring much good to any one. Timothy said as much. Eh, an' what +are ye after now?" + +"I know my way from here," said Meg. "I am not afraid of the storm. I +won't stay and bring you bad luck, Mrs. Dale." And she slipped out into +the darkness. + +The old woman rose with difficulty and hobbled to the door, which Meg +had shut gently behind her. The wind was rising now, and blew against it +with a shrieking gust. Mrs. Dale battled with it for a minute, then +succeeded in opening it, and looked about. At that moment the heavy +clouds broke, and down came the rain!--dashing down, whistling through +the air, like a solid sheet of water, leaping up again on its fall. + +Blessed rain, that had been needed all these hot weeks; that the farmers +would rejoice to hear while they lay in their beds; that the earth would +greet, with a sweetness which would rise like incense! The earth +spurted up, the willows bent under the onslaught of water. It frightened +the birds in their nests, and made all small animals cower and peep in +their shelters. It was not a night in which any living being should be +out in the open. + +Granny Dale shut the door again, and relighted her pipe; the danger was +over, so there was no further need to pray. She puffed away +philosophically instead: it was lucky she had brought plenty of "'baccy" +with her. The rain was too violent to last. When it should stop, she and +the donkey would jog on again. As for that crazy woman, who couldn't +speak her own mother tongue properly, she must be getting pretty +drenched; but she was the preacher's affair, not Granny Dale's. No; she +was nowhere to be seen; she had vanished like a ghost, or a storm +spirit,--why bother about her? + +Granny swore once or twice; she could not help being bothered; and, when +the storm cleared at last, and she and her donkey started, splashing +through ooze and slush, making deep ruts in their progress, she peered +anxiously to the right and left, seeing Meg in stunted alder trees, and +in clumps of pale reeds, and, even once, in the reflection of the moon +in a pool. It looked to her like the girl's white face, upturned and +floating. + +Meg was not on the high road at all; she had turned sharp to the left +from the hut, and struck into a short cut to the farm. She fancied she +knew her way across these familiar marshes, even in the dark. + +Indeed, she kept on quite steadily at first, only stooping now and then +to make sure with her hands that her feet were still on the track, or to +shut her eyes, that were nearly blinded by the lightning. How small she +felt among the immense resistless powers that were at play round +her!--One tiny atom in the midst of the great plan of nature that whirls +on through the ages, taking no count of the individual births, and +deaths, and pains and joys! She kept on quite steadily till the sluice +gates opened and the water descended with a force that made her stagger, +taking her breath away, pelting her, drenching her through and through +in a minute. Meg was swept half round by it, driven backwards a few +steps in her surprise up against a tree, to which she clung +instinctively. Both her arms were round the trunk, and she felt it sway +and creak. Already her feet were in a puddle, nearly ankle-deep. + +"If this goes on much longer, it will be a second deluge," thought she. +"Were any of the people who were drowned in the Flood rather _glad_ to +be swept away, I wonder?" + +But it did not last. The storm ceased almost as suddenly as it had +begun. The birds lifted their heads again, and began to chirp a feeble +sleepy thanksgiving. The worst was over. Meg loosened her hold of the +willow, and wandered on. + +She was as soaked as if she had fallen into the stream; her clothes were +very heavy, and her steps were more uncertain than they had been. The +track was lost in water; everywhere there seemed nothing but shallow +glistening pools, which reflected the deep dark sky and the stars, when +the clouds parted and rolled off. + +Presently Meg found herself on the verge of a salt-water spring that was +deeper than the others. She discovered that she was going the wrong way +when she got to the "Pixie's Pool". She had all but walked into it, but +had been stopped by the black post with a supposed depth, marked in +rough white figures, put up by one of the Thorpes. + +Meg leaned against the post to rest, and looked down into the black +depths; and, thus looking, a temptation seemed to rise from them, and +lay hold of her soul and body. + +She had so nearly fallen in! Suppose she let herself drop; a step would +do it, and no one would ever know that it had not been an accident! + +Barnabas would be unhappy--for a time; but his work was his real love, +and he never looked on death as a misfortune, and it would set him free. +Tom would be rather sorry, Mr. Thorpe more than "rather"; but, after +all, she had always been a strange element at the farm,--never quite one +of them, even when they were kindest. They would go on as before she +came; there would hardly be a place to fill up; she had never been much +good to any one! She slipped on to her knees and stooped lower over the +water. It seemed drawing her, with a force that was part of the pitiless +power that she had felt in the storm; that she had felt too in her own +life. "As we sow, so we must reap;" "must reap," it was running in her +head again,--but she could escape the "must" so, and so only. + +Terrible relentless law, that she felt she could bow to no more. Should +she break through it once and for ever, so that the reaping should be no +more for her,--in this world, at any rate? + +She could see the moon in the water; she could fancy herself falling +through it, disturbing the reflection for a moment, then it would close +over her again; it would look just as though she had never been; it +would _be_ just the same. One life less; it counted for nothing among +the thousands; and the sky and marsh and water would keep the secret, +and she would have to make no more efforts. She was tired, oh so tired! +Ah, how the water was pulling her--it was like a magnet to a needle! + +She had failed utterly. Life was a perplexity and a terror; and God was +too far away--if, indeed, He "was" at all. Scepticism was unnatural to +Meg; it meant blank despair to her. The horrors "granny" had poured into +her ears, mingled with her own sense of impotence and failure, made her +feel it better to risk anything, to force a verdict of damnation from an +angry God, rather than to stay where He was not, where the heartless +horror of mechanical laws reigned supreme. + +Natural healthy love of life was never so strong as it should be in her: +she would always rather fly to the ills she knew not, than bear the +evils she knew, and face misery she could picture to herself. Her +courage had given way. She shut her eyes and swayed towards the pool. +One plunge and it would be done! + +"Margaret, Margaret!" the shout, loud and insistent, rang across the +marshes and broke the spell. "Margaret!" farther off and fainter. +"Margaret, Margaret!" once more, quite away in the distance. + +It was the preacher's voice. He must be looking for her. Meg had sprung +to her feet at the first call. A choking sensation rose to her throat, +and tears to her eyes. Had he been searching for her all night? _He_ did +not break his bargain, nor fling aside his responsibilities, whatever +she did; and she had promised him she would go back. What a coward she +was! What a mad, dishonourable coward! With a burning sense of shame, +Meg turned her back on the death that had tempted her sorely, with a +yearning, that was deeper than articulate prayer, to the God who alone +knows how hard life is. + +"One _must_ pay one's debts and keep one's promises. I'll go on again +and finish it," she said. She spoke to the invisible, and did not know +she had spoken aloud. Then she began to stumble in the direction of the +farm. + +It was fresher and cooler after the rain; but her feet sank into the +softened ground, making puddles where they trod, and her wet clothes +clung to her. + +She would have run if she could, but that was impossible; and she was +beginning to have a vague impression that she had been several weeks, at +least, struggling over these moonlit boggy tracks. The path was swamped; +but by some wonderful chance she did find herself at last in the +straight cart road to the farm. + +The house stood before her, visible at the end of the road, silhouetted +black and solid against the sky. It was at night that she had seen it +first. + +Then with that recollection came back the wonder as to what they would +all say. How long had she been gone? Her senses were so confused that +she could not think connectedly, much less find words in which to +explain. + +She reached the house and leaned against the rough grey stone, conscious +the while that her limbs would not have carried her any further. The +door was shut, but the light streamed from the windows. Who was up so +late? She could hear voices inside. Some one was saying:-- + +"Gi'e me the lantern; I'll start again." But she heard as if in a dream. +Approaching steps sounded behind the door, but she had not knocked. It +was opened. The light flashed in her eyes. + +"Eh, who is it? my lass!" said Barnabas. She felt his hand on her arm +for a moment, and then he put down the lantern, lifted her up as if she +were a child, and carried her right in. She was in Mr. Thorpe's wooden +chair by the fire, and Barnabas was kneeling beside her; she looked at +him with a vague wonder at seeing him so moved. + +"Barnabas, is it morning?" she said quickly. "I meant--I did try--to +keep my promise to come back the same day--I couldn't help it. +Everything tried to prevent me, but I started meaning to come back; only +the storm came on, and father wouldn't see me, and there seemed no end +to the 'reaping,' and I was so tired; but father was quite right, you +know--and you were right too; only--oh! that isn't what I wanted to say; +I can't--I can't remember the right words!" + +"Never mind," said Barnabas; and he drew her head on to his shoulder. +"Don't talk, little lass. Ye can tell me to-morrow. Bring me that soup, +Cousin Tremnell. Take a pan o' coals and warm her bed. Eh, ye are +soaked!" + +He was feeding her as if she were a baby; and Meg was so utterly +exhausted that she let him do as he liked, with a sense of relief at not +being expected even to lift her hand to her lips. + +But the soup revived her, and after a minute she sat upright and looked +round her. + +"An' where have ye been?" said Tom. He was dripping too, and had another +lantern in his hand. He was more relieved than he cared to express to +see Barnabas' wife safe. + +"A pretty dance ye ha' led us," he cried. "An' what were ye doin'?" But +the preacher saw the scared look come back to Meg's eyes, and +interposed. + +"Never mind," he said again. "It doesna matter! There is only one thing +that matters,--that ye've come home to me; ye've come home to me! Why, +ye can hardly stand, lass!" seeing Meg make the attempt. + +"I have been running miles, I think, and my knees are shaking so," she +explained. And Barnabas lifted her in his arms again, and carried her +up. + +"Good-night!" said Tom good-naturedly, "or good-morning, which is it? +Next time ye go in for these high jinks, Barnabas' wife, do 'ee choose a +finer night! Oh well," stretching himself, "dad needn't ha' been afear'd +lest Barnabas should be too rough on her!" + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + + One enemy is too much. + + --_Herbert._ + + +It was the last day of August. The London plane trees were beginning to +shed their leaves, that were choked with the season's dust; the air was +still and hot, the West End nearly deserted. + +The hatchment, that had been put up on Mr. Russelthorpe's death, still +hung in Bryanston Square, but fresh straw was laid down in the street. +This time, at least, all that the living could do to keep out death was +being done. + +Mr. Deane had had a relapse after the journey to London. Two nurses were +in attendance, and the doctors came night and day. + +"Really, sis, I should be ashamed to get well again after this," he had +said playfully; "and what is the use of having regiments of physicians? +I am sure my case is delightfully simple! I know perfectly well what's +the matter. They vary a little as to 'how long' they will give me, +according to whether they are of the hopeful or the gloomy school; and +some of them have very small respect for my intellect, and pretend I may +live years; and so, perhaps, I might, if I weren't dying; and some of +them have inconvenient consciences, and feel bound to tell the truth; +but it makes no difference. 'Not all the king's horses and all the +king's men will ever set this Humpty Dumpty up again.'" + +"You give way too easily!" Mrs. Russelthorpe cried, with an impatience +born of sharp anxiety. She _would_ not think that that hurried flight +had nearly killed him. + +"You'll get over this fresh chill you caught at that horrible damp +rectory. It was high time you left. I shall write to Dr. Renshawe at +once. These old-fashioned practitioners are of no use; they don't open +their eyes to the new lights!" + +"Poor sis! you must be feeling very hopeless, when you go in for the new +lights. Let it alone, and let's enjoy our last weeks together in peace. +No? Well, as you like. If it comforts you to have all the quacks in +England fighting over me, why shouldn't you?" He smiled while he spoke. +Perhaps he had always given way too easily; though not in the manner she +meant. "But one can't start a new system on one's death-bed," he said to +himself; and his thoughts wandered dreamily off to other subjects. A +huge china bowl, full of late roses, stood on the sofa by his side. He +lay drinking in their beauty. Probably he would not see many more roses; +and, while there was no bitterness in the reflection,--Mr. Deane's was +too sweet a nature to be bitter,--it yet added to his always keen +appreciation of colour. His naturally intense enjoyment of the finer +pleasures of the senses had been apt to be dashed by an almost morbid +recollection of the many "better men than he," who had no chance of +satisfying themselves. Like Meg, he could not enjoy his cream for the +thought of those who needed bread. But now that life was ebbing fast, he +delighted in any small gratification that came in his way, in a manner +that surprised and almost annoyed his sister. + +"My work is done," he told her. "Rather badly, no doubt; +but--anyhow--done. I need only 'play' now. Other people may ride atilt +against all the problems one bruises head and heart over. Good luck go +with them, and more power to their elbows! But I shall bother about +nothing now. Don't put that shade of pink against those crimson roses, +sis; you set my teeth on edge." + +So he lay; outwardly serene at any rate. If at the bottom of his heart +were any regrets for the life cut short, not much past its prime, this +was his own secret. He knew how to die like a gentleman. On that same +principle of "enjoying the last days together," he spoke no more of Meg, +though he thought of her often and tenderly; but there may yet be +changes on the cards when Death is looking over a man's shoulder. He +speaks rashly who predicts "peace" while he is yet in the land of the +living! + +Mrs. Russelthorpe stood on the drawing-room landing, and George Sauls +faced her. He had already twice refused to take "No" for an answer to +his demand--it could scarcely be called request--to see Mr. Deane. + +The bare idea of giving way before his impertinent assurance was +preposterous. Mrs. Russelthorpe assured him at last that she had neither +leisure nor inclination to receive visitors. + +"Naturally!" said Mr. Sauls. "I should not dream of intruding on you, if +it were not that I must see Mr. Deane. There is something I mean to tell +him." He leaned one arm on the banisters; and there was no trace of +nervousness in his expression, though she was doing her best to freeze +him. Something in George Sauls' look made Mrs. Russelthorpe feel that +this was no sham fight. She had no idea of defeat--she had seldom been +defeated. + +"You can write your communication," she said. "Mr. Deane is equal to +reading his letters." + +"Thanks!" He twisted his eyeglass violently, and put his foot on the +stair. "Thanks! but trusting to paper is only a degree less foolish than +trusting a secret to any but number one. I will wait so long as you +like, but I am afraid I must see Mr. Deane." + +It was the third repetition! Mrs. Russelthorpe drew herself up. Who was +this man that he should say "must" to her "shall not"? + +"I imagined that I had made clear to you that you cannot possibly do +that," she answered coldly. + +"Is that what you said to his daughter?" asked George. It was a +declaration of war, a throwing down of the gauntlet. Mr. Sauls did not +take his eyes from her face; as he brought out the words, he knew that +they were insolent, but he was prepared not to stick at a trifle--for +Meg's sake. + +He had thought to take his adversary unawares by that bold stroke; but +Mrs. Russelthorpe moved not a muscle, and George, much as he disliked +her, felt a momentary admiration for her pluck. + +"If you are speaking of Mrs. Thorpe," she said, "she has chosen her own +lot, and must abide by it." + +"Oh, certainly!" said George. For the first time in this curious +interview there was a shade of warmth in his tone. Meg's very name +slightly changed his attitude. + +"If a woman is fool enough to marry beneath her, she chooses a lot that +might satisfy her bitterest enemy," he remarked. "I don't pretend to go +in for Christian charity and wholesale forgiveness; but Mrs. Thorpe +injured herself more than any one else. Can't you hold out a hand to her +now?" + +"We will not discuss that subject. May I remind you that my time is +precious--as I have no doubt yours is?" + +"You mean that it is of no use waiting for your permission? You do not +intend to give it?" + +"I certainly will not." + +"I am sorry," said Mr. Sauls. "My time is precious, as you remark. If +there is no use in waiting, I will wait no longer." And, looking +straight before him, though with perhaps a tinge more colour than usual +in his sallow cheek, George went, not down, but up the stairs. + +For a moment Mrs. Russelthorpe stood aghast; then she put her hand on +his arm, when he would have passed her, and detained him with a grip +which had plenty of strength in it. + +"Mr. Sauls," she said, "you are doing a most unprecedented thing! I +don't know what your private business with my brother may be; but, +whatever it is, you are not justified in behaving so to any woman in her +own house." + +"I will tell you my private business," said George. "Mrs. Thorpe came to +Lupcombe rectory, begging to see her father, and you sent her away, +broken-hearted! Did he ever hear of that? If he did, I will ask your +pardon humbly; but, in any case, he _shall_ know before he dies." + +He felt the grip on his arm tighten at his words; it assured him, had he +needed assurance, that he was right, that Mr. Deane had not known, and, +what was more, that Mrs. Russelthorpe, who feared few things, dreaded +such a revelation. + +"I have an impression that you have some grudge against me; and though, +in ordinary circumstances, that fact could hardly have any weight with +me," she remarked, with a fine touch of contempt in the voice she would +not allow to tremble, "I acknowledge that, just now, you have an +opportunity of annoying me seriously. Even you, however, may remember +that, in gratifying your petty spite, you will probably quicken the end +of the man who has befriended you, and whose friend, I believe, you call +yourself. You must think worse of Mrs. Thorpe than I do, if you imagine +that she will thank you for that." + +"Oh, I shan't ask for thanks," he said, with a short laugh. "Why should +I, if I am gratifying my own petty spite? No; Mrs. Thorpe wouldn't +approve this. I don't imagine that she would; she never did quite +approve me! Please take your hand off my arm; I assure you that I don't +want to hurt you, but I am going upstairs." + +He could not free himself from her grasp, however, without using actual +force; and Mrs. Russelthorpe made one last desperate effort. + +"If there were a man within call besides old Pankhurst," she said, "and +my brother, who is ill, you wouldn't dare do this! You are taking a +cowardly advantage, Mr. Sauls, a cowardly and ungenerous advantage of +power. You have no right to do what I forbid in my house; but--you are +the stronger. If you have a spark of manliness in you, you will be +ashamed!" + +George looked down on her; his near-sighted eyes brightened, the +expression of his imperturbable face changed a little. She had felt that +that must move him; she spoke with genuinely righteous indignation; and +he was moved, though not as she had expected. + +"Might is right, Mrs. Russelthorpe," said he. "Oh, it's not an exalted +theory, I know. Mr. Deane would never allow it for a moment, nor would +his daughter; but you and I--we don't go in for their exalted theories, +do we? Cowardly and ungenerous? When you sent Mrs. Thorpe away, did you +stop to consider the right of the weakest? Did you _ever_ consider that, +where she was concerned? Yes! I am the stronger; and I pay you the +compliment of following your example rather than your precepts, you +see." And he put his hand on her wrist, freed himself with a wrench, and +went on upstairs. + +For a second, Mrs. Russelthorpe still stood where he had left her, +feeling as if heaven and earth were coming to an end. Then she pulled +herself together, and followed him. She would have forfeited some years +of her life, though she loved life dearly, to have prevented this +disclosure. Since prevention was impossible, she would hear the worst. + +She wished she had not made an enemy of Mr. Sauls; but, at least, he +should not be able to say that he had seen her afraid. + +He looked round doubtfully when he reached the second landing. + +It was awkward not to know which was Mr. Deane's room, though he would +have tried each door in succession before he would have been baffled. + +It may be said for George that "petty spite" alone would not have +carried him to these lengths. + +He was very much aware that his conduct was rather indefensible, +although he was certainly a good hater. + +"It is the second door on the right," said Mrs. Russelthorpe behind him. + +She held her head a little higher than usual, and spoke in her ordinary +cold incisive tones. She had protested in vain. She had appealed to any +gentlemanly instinct he might possess; but he had none. There should be +no more undignified scrimmages; whatever was to be, should be quickly. + +Mr. Sauls opened the door, and held it open for her to pass in first. He +would have preferred seeing Mr. Deane alone, but he had some pride too; +she should not suppose that he shrank from saying before her face what +he had to say. + +Meg's champion was not over scrupulous; but he was no coward; and, if +most men would have shrunk from behaving to a woman as he had, on the +score of chivalry, it must also be owned that many would hardly have had +the courage to meet their host's astonished glance and to explain their +presence before a hostile listener. + +Mr. Deane did, indeed, look utterly surprised for a moment; then he held +out his hand with his usual genial courtesy. + +"Sauls! This is uncommonly kind of you. I wasn't expecting a visitor, +but my sister was quite right to bring you up." + +His voice was very weak, and he flushed with the effort of talking. Mr. +Sauls could almost see the light through the hand extended in welcome, +and a momentary compunction seized him. Then he thought of Meg. "He will +die anyhow," reflected George. "But he shall see her first, if I can +compass it." + +"I am afraid I must own that Mrs. Russelthorpe did not bring me up--in +fact, she did not give me her permission to come," he said. + +"Dear me! That sounds as if you had been fighting your way," said Mr. +Deane, with some amusement. He had not the faintest idea of the truth of +the suggestion, till he caught a glimpse of the face of his sister, who +stood behind Mr. Sauls. Then he raised himself on his elbow, and looked +from one to the other. + +"Is anything really the matter?" he asked. + +"No; but there is something I wish to say to you, at the risk of your +possibly considering me an impertinent interferer in your affairs." + +"I am sure," said Mr. Deane, with a touch of hauteur in his voice, "that +you would never impertinently interfere in my affairs;" and George set +his teeth hard. It was difficult to go on after that. He felt as he had +felt in old days, when Meg had sometimes snubbed him gently and even +unconsciously, because he had ventured a little too far. + +"Do you remember this?" he said; and, taking a small parcel from his +breast pocket, he opened it, and disclosed Meg's locket. Mr. Deane held +out his hand instinctively; he did not like to see that precious relic +in Mr. Sauls' possession. + +"Yes, it is--I mean it was--mine. I'll give you anything you like for +it, Sauls." + +"I remembered it too," said George. "Miss Deane once showed it to me. +The diamonds are uncommonly fine. I found it at a pawnbroker's at N----. +Mrs. Thorpe sold it to him. The old rascal made a good thing out of her, +I suspect. He assured me that he saw her cross the road to the 'Pig and +Whistle' with the money in her hand, and order a chaise to take her to +Lupcombe parsonage." + +"To Lupcombe!" said Mr. Deane; he started painfully. + +"You didn't know?" said George. "It was not news to me. The gardener +told us how a woman had come to the parsonage--it was while Mr. +Bagshotte and I were looking at ancient monuments--and begged hard to +see you, but was sent away; he said she seemed broken-hearted." + +George's even voice--he spoke in as matter-of-fact a tone as if he were +commenting on the weather--ceased for a moment. He knew that Mrs. +Russelthorpe had turned white even to her lips; but he had no pity for +her;--that other woman "broken-hearted" was too present with him. + +"How do you know--it was my Meg?" said her father, with a catch of the +breath in the middle of his sentence. + +"I questioned the gardener again," said George. "When Mrs. Russelthorpe +sent her away, the woman said, 'Tell father I know he was right'. +Possibly Mrs. Russelthorpe forgot to give you that message?" He put up +his eyeglass and looked at her, but she stood perfectly still and +straight. An enemy's presence has a finely bracing effect on a woman's +nerves; yet, perhaps, at that moment, Meg's wrongs were avenged, even +better than the avenger knew. + +Mrs. Russelthorpe's love for her brother might be selfish, but at least +it was intense; and to lose his was like losing the very life of her +soul, for it was the only love she knew. She could not look at Charles, +though she felt him look eagerly and questioningly at her, or speak to +him, though her silence was an admission. But she met Mr. Sauls' stare +with haughty composure; if he must guess she suffered, at least he +shouldn't _see_ it. + +Mr. Deane put his hand over his eyes; there was a minute's dead +silence,--the longest minute that Mrs. Russelthorpe had ever known. +Then: "Mr. Sauls, you have made a mistake," he said. "It--it was I who +forgot; my memory is getting misty. You must not fancy that my sister +did not tell me. Of course, I knew--but, no doubt, you meant well." And, +for once in his life, George was taken aback. Then he turned on his +heel, with a short laugh. + +"Thank you; I am glad you credit me with good intentions," he said. "I +am no more fond of interfering than you are of--shall I say, of telling +lies? But there _are_ circumstances--Mrs. Thorpe had no one else to +speak for her. Family pride is a stronger influence than abstract +justice, isn't it?" He walked to the door, then paused. Mr. Deane +fancied that Mr. Sauls was going to make one last cutting remark; but he +did not. After all, it was not for his own hand that he was fighting; +and stinging speeches wouldn't help her much. + +"I daresay I have 'interfered impertinently,'" he said; "but don't +'forget' again. I think if you had seen, as I have, how she looks when +your name is mentioned, how she longs for any crumb of news of you, you +might remember, and even let her in next time. Good-bye; I am sorry we +don't part friends--I am very sorry." And he spoke the truth. Mr. Deane +had befriended him years ago; and then he was Meg's father. + +He was just leaving the room when Mr. Deane called him back. + +"Sauls, come here!" he said. "I can't make you hear across the room; my +voice isn't strong enough. Tell me, do you know where she is? Yes? Bring +me paper and pencil, please." George handed him his own pocket-book, and +took the pencil from his watch-chain. Mr. Deane's hand shook while he +held it. His sister, who had stood still as a statue all through this +interview, stepped forward now in genuine anxiety for him. + +"You are not fit to write," she said. "Let me--or Mr. Sauls." But he +shook his head. "No one else can do it. Meg will understand and come, +when she gets this. Tell her, Sauls, that I will do my best to live till +I have seen her, and give her my love." + +He wrote one line in shaky characters; then folded the leaf in two, and +put it in George's hand. "I can't trust it to the post. Will you take +this to her, for the sake of--'abstract justice'? You understand that +what happened before was my doing. I trust you with this." + +"I understand, and you may trust me," said George. "Thank you." And +there was a warm ring in the thanks that brought a smile to Mr. Deane's +lips. + +"You are very fond of abstract justice!" he murmured. + +"Am I? the more fool I!" said George. "It's not a profitable taste, or +likely to find much gratification. I will take your message safely. I am +glad I reminded you, though you are very tired, I'm afraid." And their +hands met for the last time. + +"There will be time to rest when I have seen her," said Mr. Deane; "but +tell her that she must make haste." + +George went out, shutting the door behind him softly, not even caring to +look again at his enemy. After all, he did not feel triumphant at that +moment, though he was glad that he had won that victory for Meg. + +When he was fairly gone, Mr. Deane turned and looked at his sister. + +"You could not contradict him," he said, in a low voice. "A man can't +see a woman put to shame before another man, but I wonder what injury I +have ever done you that you _could_ do this thing to me. You must hate +us very much!" + +"Not you! Not you!" she cried. And she threw herself at his side, hiding +her face in the bedclothes. "Oh, Charles, I meant no harm to you. But +what right had _she_ to come? She has always been between us, always. +She tried to take my place; she was her mother over again,--her mother, +who robbed me once; whom I had thought buried! Even when she was a child +it was so; and now, having done all the harm she can, having proved her +worthlessness, she will still dare to come and----" + +"God grant she will still come!" he said. + +His thin face worked nervously. The generous, easy life, unstained by +any gross sin, pure as a girl's, seemed to him, at that moment, more +culpable than words could say. + +"Even when she was a child!" he repeated to himself. "My _poor_ little +Meg, even when she was a child! I don't understand how you had the heart +to send my daughter away, but it seems I have never understood. Go, +please, and leave me to wait for her," he said aloud. + +"Charles!" she cried again. And even in her own ears both words and +voice sounded strange and unlike herself. "Oh, Charles, it was because I +cared so much about you! I know that you can't understand; but forgive +me, if you can." + +"Because you cared!" he said. "I would rather you _had_ hated me, then! +It would have been better for us both." Then, seeing her wince as if he +had struck her: "There! I should not have said that; but, for mercy's +sake, do go, Augusta! I don't want to say anything more that I shall +repent. I can't talk about it. Forgive you? If my child comes in time, I +will. That is all I want,--if Meg only comes in time." + +And Mrs. Russelthorpe rose from her knees, and went downstairs, with a +face that seemed to have grown older and greyer. + +"If Mrs. Thorpe comes in time to see Mr. Deane, let her in," she said to +the butler, who nodded gravely. + +"Things must be at a pretty pass when she gives that order," he declared +downstairs; and the cook sat down and cried, for all the servants loved +Mr. Deane. + +That night he was worse, but in the morning there was again a slight +rally. A kind of expectancy pervaded the whole house. The maids would +steal constantly to the area gate, and look down the silent square; even +the nurse, infected by her patient's anxiety, went often to the window, +and peeped out to see whether the daughter was coming. + +Mr. Deane himself did nothing but listen day and night. + +Mrs. Russelthorpe, sitting alone in the big drawing-room, listened too. +Her brother would not see her--he might die, still without seeing her. +She made no sign of distress; but her head ached, and her brain reeled +with listening. All through the weary day she heard every footfall that +sounded on the flagstones, passed the house and died in the distance; +and all through the weary night she wondered whether it would be worse +that Meg should hold him in her arms at the last; or that he should die, +leaving his sister unforgiven. It would be a careless forgiveness--given +because, having his child again, he had "all he wanted". Mrs. +Russelthorpe wondered at herself because she longed for that. + +Well, if her love was selfish, she did not on that account suffer any +the less--but rather more. + +Even George Sauls, who thought she had got off easily, though it was +just like Mr. Deane to interpose and screen her--even he might have been +satisfied, if he had known how much. + +And, indeed, the most vindictive, could they know everything, would +probably have small desire left for the shooting of private arrows at +any enemy. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + + It takes two to speak truth--one to speak and another to hear. + + --_Thoreau._ + + +It was mid-day when Margaret woke; the day after her fruitless +expedition to her father, after the terrible night which had left its +traces on both her soul and body. + +She had slept for twelve hours and woke refreshed, but still aching from +the effects of cold and exposure. She felt as if she had been beaten +violently, and she dressed herself with some difficulty. + +Mrs. Tremnell had brought a cup of tea to her room, and tried to +persuade her to stay there. Meg accepted the attention with gratified +but rather surprised thanks. + +"I must get up," she said, "for I did all sorts of dreadful things +yesterday. I have lamed Tom's mare, and I have lost Barnabas' savings, +and I ought to tell them at once; I can do a thing if I must, but I +can't _wait_ with anything hanging over my head, I never could" (which +was remarkably true). + +"Barnabas is too glad to have you back to care about what you've lost," +said Mrs. Tremnell. "He's so set on you as never was." She looked at Meg +with a rather wistful expression on her face. She had suffered many +qualms of conscience about "Barnabas' wife" in the night. "You must be +fond of your father, Margaret," she said; "and yet parents aren't of +much account generally. My Lyddy never thought much of me--but there! +she was so pretty and clever, it seemed natural she should not." + +Margaret didn't look pretty that morning. She couldn't have compared +with Lydia! The black rings round her eyes were most unbecoming, and she +was tired and sad; yet Mrs. Tremnell felt drawn towards her as she never +had felt before. + +"Ah!" said Meg sadly, "I daresay she _did_ think of you after all, +Cousin Tremnell. One generally thinks too late!" + +She went downstairs then, with some dread of all the questions and all +the explanations before her, but with her mind made up. She had passed a +crisis during the night. She and despair had met at close quarters; and +such a conflict makes its indelible mark. No one can "go down into hell" +and be just the same afterwards. Either he must have found God "there +also,"--a finding which deepens and strengthens;--or have succumbed +utterly, which, I suppose, retards that discovery to which in the end we +humbly believe "all souls come". + +The preacher's wife felt anything but victorious that morning; but she +would never run away from consequences again. + +She met her father-in-law on the stairs. He had been "more than a bit +scared," he said, when he had found that they knew nothing about her at +the parson's. + +"Did you go all that long way?" cried Meg. "I am very sorry!" + +"_You_ went all that long way too, eh? Was your father better?" he +asked. + +"I might not see him," said Meg. And Mr. Thorpe refrained from further +questions, but put his big hand on her head, with a fatherly kindness +that was grateful to her. + +"Well, well; it's a hard world!" said he. "But I am glad to see ye safe; +as glad as if ye were my own daughter." + +And Meg never guessed how indignant he was with her "own father" at that +moment. + +Tom was bustling in and out of the kitchen, and Meg sat down on the long +bench that was always pushed up to the table for meals, and began +playing with the salt, which had been left out. + +She wished that Molly had been Mr. Thorpe's property! + +Tom cast quick glances at her while he went to and fro. Meg knew that he +saw that she was nervous, and this made her worse. + +He came up to the table at last, and put his hand on the salt jar. That +bit of earthenware, out of which each person helped himself with the end +of a fork, was associated in Meg's mind with Tom for ever afterwards. + +"Well," he said, "it seems to gi'e ye some soart o' consolation! If I +put it on th' top o' th' cupboard, which is where Cousin Tremnell says +it ought to be kept between meals, p'r'aps ye'll never get out what ye +are trying to say, eh?" And Meg drew a breath of relief. + +This was the old Tom whom she had got accustomed to,--not the Tom of +last week, who had been unnaturally grave, and exceedingly chary of +words. + +"I have such a fearful thing to confess that I don't know where to +begin." + +"Begin at the end," said he. "The end o' th' matter was that ye left +Molly dead lame at the 'Pig and Whistle's' stable, warn't it? It was the +best ye could do under th' carcumstances. I'm glad ye didn't try to +drive her home again anyhow." + +"Oh, you've heard about it!" cried Meg. + +"Long John told tales! Ye doan't do credit to my driving lessons; ye +tried to do wi'out me too soon, ma'am!" + +"I am dreadfully sorry I lamed Molly." + +"Eh? Well, it's done now--an' I'd sooner by a long sight see ye glad +than sorry. Besides, I doan't suppose ye'd ha' taken her if ye had known +she'd come to grief. _What?_" with a sudden burst of laughter, "ye +_would_ have? 'Pon my soul, Barnabas' wife, ye do go in for th' whole +sheep while you're about it!" + +Tom's laugh was infectious, and brought a smile even to Meg's lips. + +"It is very good of you not to be angry. Long John said you'd never get +over it, Tom." + +"Long John thanked his stars it warn't him, I fancy," said Tom, laughing +again; and then he grew graver. "Come now, he's been telling you tales +too, hasn't he? A pretty little story about me? Ay--I guessed as much. +An' you weren't quite sartain that I wouldn't throw the poker at your +head or swear at 'ee just now! Ye doan't allus understan' our ways, no +more nor we do yours, lass; but, if ye'd believe it, ye ha'n't much need +to be scar' to' us. Lord bless us, if ye only knew the times I've _not_ +said summat as has been on th' tip o' my tongue cos ye've been by, an' I +doan't much enjoy seein' ye miserable an' shocked. Come now--ha'we made +it up?" + +He leaned across the table, and held out his hand to Barnabas' wife. +Meg, who was at least as easily touched by kindness as by unkindness, +looked up eagerly. + +"Oh, Tom--I missed you when you weren't friends with me; I should _like_ +to make it up," she said, a little colour coming into her cheeks. + +Tom shook his head with an odd, half-rueful smile. + +"Ye are a white witch, lass! I didn't mean to believe 'ee against my own +eyes, but I suppose I do. I'll never think aught bad of 'ee again. Will +'ee forgi'e me now?" + +And Meg melted at once, accepting his apology with warmth. + +"But you had better not say you'll never think anything bad of me again, +for you don't know," said she. + +A vision of that salt pool rose before her, and she shuddered. + +Tom whistled. "I say--it's not on Molly's account ye are so down as +this, lass?" + +He walked to the window, and stood with his back to Barnabas' wife. + +"Any fool can make a mull," he said; "but I've fancied ye might get atop +o' _your_ mistakes; some go down under 'em, but not the best soart. I +doan't know, as ye say--an' it's Barnabas ye'd better tell, not me--an' +it's oncommon easy to preach. I've not allus found it easy to practise, +seein' I was 'started wi' a mistake in the making o' me; but I'm sure o' +one thing--Barnabas ain't wantin' in understanding; gi'e him a bit o' a +chance, an', happen, he'll help ye better nor ye suppose. An' doan't 'ee +think too small beer o' yoursel' either," added Tom. "Ye've got a pretty +good share o' pluck, my dear, if ye'd only believe it!" + +But when Barnabas' wife had taken his advice and gone in search of the +preacher, Tom watched her across the yard, with his queer face screwed +into a rather doubtful expression. + +"Lord! I hope he'll say the right thing now; I'd like to gi'e him a +hint," he said. + +The preacher was in the hayloft, hammering at something, with his back +to the entrance. He turned round sharply, hammer in hand, when he heard +Margaret's step on the ladder. + +"I told Cousin Tremnell to keep ye abed, ye were so terribly done last +night," he said. "Why didn't ye stay there?" + +"I wanted to speak to you; at least, there is something I ought to +say----" Meg had got thus far when he interrupted. + +"Doan't 'ee for any sake stand afore me looking scared, lass! as if I +was a judge and ye were at th' bar; for I can't bear it." + +He pulled down a heap of hay while he was speaking, and Meg sat down, +burying her face in it. Her heart was beating fast, and her head +throbbing; but, after all, it was, perhaps, the man who was most to be +pitied. There were few things he would have owned to "not being able to +bear". + +"I've some'ut to say to ye too. Will ye listen to me first, Margaret?" +He spoke low, with an effort to be quiet and cool for her sake; and then +went on, without waiting for an answer: "After ye were gone yesterday, I +came to look for ye; I wanted to say as I took shame to mysel' for +holding ye back when your father was ill, an' I would have taken ye to +Lupcombe; but I was too late. I _do_ take shame for that; I hadn't ought +to ha' tried to stop ye. I am the most bound of all men to be fair to +'ee, an' I wasn't." + +"Oh, Barnabas!" said Meg, looking up with tears in her eyes; this was +not what she had expected. "Would you have let me go to him if I had +asked you again? I wish I had, then; I thought it would be no good; that +you never changed your mind." + +"I've heard foalk say that we're all a bit obstinate," said the +preacher; "an', where a man's had a clear leading fro' th' Lord, he +can't, to my mind, heed other men's talk too little; but I wasna +followin' the Lord yesterday, but the devil; an' I was sorry for it +when I came to my senses." + +"You had a right to object, if you chose." + +"Do you suppose I think I've a right to ill-treat ye? I'm sorry for us +both, if ye do," he answered gravely, and then his voice softened. "Oh, +Margaret! I was sore afeart all th' night. When I was lookin' for 'ee in +the 'marshes,' it came over me that there was some evil comin' nigh to +'ee; I've had the feelin' all the week, but last night it were terrible +close: I stayed an' shouted to 'ee; I felt as if I must save 'ee fro' +summat; an', my little lass, I didn't know how to thank God enough when +I saw ye, though ye were half scared o' me." + +Meg buried her face lower in the hay. "You are thankful for small +mercies," she said, in rather a choked voice. "It's not worth your while +to care like that, Barnabas." + +"The things a man 'ull die for take a grip on him fro' th' outside; an' +he doesna reckon, is it worth 'so much' or 'so much'?" said the +preacher. "Ye are more nor all th' world to me now, whatever happens; +an' it wasna I that set out to love ye, my maid; but the love for ye +that just took a hold o' me." + +"Whatever happens?" said Meg. She looked at him with a curious wonder. +"If I had done something very bad, or if----" + +"Ye need make no 'ifs,'" he cried. "It's not hell--no, nor yet heaven, +that 'ull take ye out o' my heart now!" And Meg's eyes fell before his; +she had her answer! + +She could not hinder this strong love. Barnabas would never count costs +either in the things that pertained to God, or in the things that +pertained to man. + +"Well, lass," he began again, after a minute's silence, "I found this +this morning" (holding out her note). + +"So ye thought we'd take a satisfaction in makin' th' rest o' your life +miserable? Did ye get to your father?" + +"He wouldn't see me," said Meg; and there was a ring of pain in her +voice, that went to the man's heart. "Father could not forgive me, +though I asked him. He said, 'Tell her that as we sow, we must reap;' +and it is very true--truer than anything else in this world, only I did +so want to see him--oh, I _do_ so want to!" + +The preacher walked up and down the loft with quick strides. "I hope," +he began; and then swallowed the rest of that sentence. He hoped in his +righteous indignation--possibly also in his jealousy--that Mr. Deane +might receive a like answer when in need of forgiveness for himself; but +he did refrain from saying that to Meg. + +"There was a king's daughter who forgot her own people an' her father's +house; but there's only one thing as makes a woman do that, I fancy," he +said at last; "an' ye've not got it. See now, lass, I'm asking ye for +naught but th' right to help ye if I can. Let's get to th' bottom o' +things together; doan't 'ee think ye might gi'e me that much?" + +He spoke gently; but there was always an intensity about the preacher +that made Meg, whose more complex nature was swayed by many different +emotions, feel rather as if she were being coerced into self-revelations +against her will. + +"What is the use? There are some things better not talked of. It is +sometimes a sin even--even to regret," she whispered. Her great grey +eyes had a beseeching wistfulness in them. "It's all been unfair to +you," she cried, the conviction that had been growing on her finding +voice. "But I meant, when I came back, to put all that belonged to the +old life quite aside--never to speak of father any more. If you give me +time, I'll do it. Only don't make me tell you too many truths, +Barnabas; they may be better let alone." + +"I'd be loth to _make_ any one do aught," said the preacher. "It's what +I'd never do." + +"What he would never do!" And how many times had she not seen his strong +personal influence making people go his way?--making the drunkard throw +away gin untasted, making crowds fall on their knees as if moved by one +spirit; yet he spoke in all good faith: such compulsion was not his +doing, but "the Lord's," in the preacher's eyes. + +She leaned back against the hay, and watched him pacing up and down the +loft. Her thoughts flew back to a day that had almost been forgotten in +the events that followed it,--the day he had testified in the +drawing-room at Ravenshill. + +It had been very like Barnabas to do that--very characteristic both of +his strength and his limitations. Well! she, at least, had learned much +since then; among other things, perhaps, that the most earnest of +preachers is a man first,--and last. + +"Ye shall never feel forced to aught, an' I can help it; we'll go on as +we did before, if you choose. Only it's not true that any truth is +better not 'faced,'" he said finally; and there was a steady +self-restraint and patience in his tone that woke Meg's confidence. + +The preacher's judgment was not infallible; and she knew that now: his +opinions were mixed with strong class and personal prejudices, his very +goodness was dashed with fanaticism;--and yet, for all that, he was true +to the very core. She had meant to play her part better; but to this +man, of all men, she could not offer pretences. Since this was all he +asked, he should have it. They would face their mistake together; even +that mistake which she had thought it sin against both God and him to +own as one. + +"Ask what you like then," she said. She could no more give half a +confidence than he could give half a heart. "But, as to helping--every +one must do his own reaping, unless he is mean enough to try to escape +it. I used to fancy that, being father's daughter, I could never do a +mean thing, though I've done plenty of rash ones; but one learns." And +the reflection of the night's learning deepened the tragedy in her eyes. +"One learns that one might be tempted to anything." + +What had she been tempted to? The preacher's breath came more quickly +with the quickness of the thoughts that flashed through his brain. + +She was young and had love to give, and a heart that some one else might +have touched, though _he_ could not. If that was the temptation, the +nethermost hell was too good for the man who had tempted her. But _she_ +was blameless, anyhow; he knew that,--knew it with an absolute certainty +he longed to declare. + +He would have defended her against herself, reading self-accusation in +her tone. God helping him, no hot jealousy should scare or scorch her +this time. + +"Margaret," he said slowly, "what was the temptation?" + +"I told you," she cried. "It was to _escape_. Oh, Barnabas, we made a +great mistake. We have both seen it, I suppose, and repented; but what +difference does that make? One may water one's sowing with tears--they +don't prevent the harvest! As we sow, we must reap. Even father said so. +Granny Dale said worse things than that----" She stopped abruptly. + +"Well?" + +"I couldn't tell you all," said Meg, her face flushing. "She said that +men got tired of their fancies, and that, though you were better than +most, you wouldn't stand my ways any more some day. Don't look _so_, +Barnabas; I didn't believe it! I knew you were too good; but some of it +was true. She said you fed and clothed me and got nothing for it; and +that was true. She said I was a fine lady. I have tried not to be, but +it is so difficult to alter the way one has been made. And she told me +horrible stories of--of what her husband did to her when she was young. +I couldn't repeat those--they were too terrible." And Meg shuddered. +"But, when one hears of such things, it makes the whole world dark, and +God seems too far away to care." + +"Do 'ee think so?" said Barnabas. "But it's just the knowledge o' such +cruelties and horrors and black wickedness that drives a man to be a +preacher, lass. They burn at th' bottom o' one's thoughts, an' one has +no rest till one has given one's life to th' fighting o' them." + +"I know, I know," said Meg. "Oh yes, you have taught me that; one has no +rest for thinking of them! But, if one fights and fails? Barnabas, you +will not understand this, because you never despair, and you don't know +what it is to be beaten, and you are never afraid; but I was. Ah, look +the other way, I know it was cowardly, but it tempted me so; and I +wanted to get free of--of everything; of trying and failing, of loving +people who can't bear to see one, of being a weight on strangers; of the +hopeless tangle. The longing came over me quite suddenly, I had not +thought I was so wicked. I knew, all at once, that I was horribly afraid +of living, and death pulled me so hard, as if there were something +stronger than me in the water; and then you called' Margaret, +Margaret!' and I pulled myself back. I was ashamed of being such a +coward. It was as bad as a soldier who deserts, except that I didn't +quite--though even that I did not was more your doing than mine." + +"Neither yours nor mine," said the preacher; "but the Lord's!" + +He leaned his arms on the half-door of the loft, and looked away over +the flat country, glistening with water, sweet and fresh after the +baptism of rain. Had he, in leading the woman he loved from the evil of +the world, brought her to this?--this horror of despair and loneliness, +that temptation which she had only just escaped, whose shadow he had +surely felt! + +He thanked God she was safe, but with an intensity of realisation of her +peril that went through him like the sharpness of steel. + +"I'm sore to think that the devil had power to tempt ye. I'm sore to +think ye met him, wi' me not by, Margaret. How shall I comfort ye? What +shall I say?" cried the man. + +If she had loved him he could have comforted so easily; if he had not +loved her, he would have had no doubt what to say. He made an effort to +put that human love aside, and turned to her at last, his blue eyes very +bright. "Doan't believe him who was a liar fro' th' beginning," he said. +"The good must allus be th' strongest, lass, i' th' end. It's against +lies an' black shadows that we fight. With us is the power an' th' +glory. You an' I, Margaret, will win through our failures and our sins, +and count them dead at our feet one day!" + +Meg shook her head. "I know you think so," she said; "I am not so +sure--I don't think I am sure of anything,--if even father----" the +sentence did not bear finishing. Alas! though human love first teaches +the divine, the failure of "the brother whom we have seen" shakes our +belief in a Divinity we have not seen, as nothing else can. Then a smile +touched her lips. + +"But I daresay _you_ will see all your sins and failures dead at your +feet," she said. "I think you would win through anything; it is the very +sure people who do; and you will be quite triumphant and happy one day!" + +"But I'd have no content," said Barnabas, "nor wish to have, without ye +had it too. No, not in heaven--it 'ud be hell an' I lost ye, Margaret!" + +"Hush!" cried Meg, amazed. "Do you think it is right to say that?" + +"Ay, I do; most right," he said, with the strong conviction in his voice +that Meg always felt overpowered argument. "Shall I think better than my +Master? Was He content in heaven? An' He had been, He'd not ha' drawn +_us_ after Him, lass. I'm not feared o' loving ye too much," he went on +rather sadly. "Happen, if I love ye enough, I'll learn in time not to +scare ye; an' then th' next old wife ye meet won't leave ye fit to drown +yourself wi' her tales o' men's wickedness! So ye think we made a great +mistake, eh? an' ha' both repented? For me, I ha' _not_ repented. It wur +a clear teaching, an' naught's a mistake that's right. An' it seems so +afterwards, that's part o' th' witcheries o' th' devil. Still, ye think +so?" drawing his light-coloured eyebrows together in perplexity, but +with a patient attempt to follow her thought that touched Meg. + +"You were doing what you believed right," she said. "I was very +miserable and Aunt Russelthorpe hated me, and I her, and father was +away, and it was easier to go--anywhere--than to stay. I did really +believe it was 'a call' too; it wasn't only discontent. I must have been +wrong, though, or it would have turned out right," Meg said, with a +simplicity that was always part of her character. "But, when I look +back, I can't disentangle my motives nor even remember exactly what I +felt then; I was so different, and knew so little----" + +"I'd let it be," said Barnabas. "There doesna seem much doubt to me." + +He paused a moment. There was never "much doubt" to him about anything. +It was hardly possible to this man, who was essentially a man of action, +of unhesitating zeal, to comprehend self-torturing uncertainty. + +Then his love for her gave him the sympathy which he could never have +reached intellectually. + +"But, happen, I doan't rightly understand," he said gently. "Well, He +understan's, whose strength is stronger nor our sins, an' His wisdom nor +our mistakes. Say it wur a sin an' a mistake, lass!--tho', mind, it's +not I who'll ever think so--even then, He can bring ye past it. Failure +isn't for us who are on His side. Things hide themsel's an' take queer +shapes i' th' smoke o' th' battle; but in th' end the shadows 'ull roll +away, an' the day be His an' ours!" cried Barnabas. + +Meg, looking at him, knew how he _saw_ that battlefield, where the Man +of Sorrows stood alone triumphant. + +Well, the preacher's arguments might not always convince now; but yet, +so long as she lived, his unswerving devotion would wake an answering +chord in her. It is, after all, what a man is that impresses us; and the +reflection of the Eternal goodness in our neighbour's soul refreshes +ours, be the neighbour broad or narrow, of our creed or of his own! + +"I am glad I have told you," she said. + +Barnabas put his hands on her shoulders and looked down at her, in his +face an anxiety he could not repress. + +"Ye ha' told me all?" + +"No. There is something else; I have lost the money you gave me, +and----" + +He interrupted impatiently. "Eh? that's no matter, and it was yours to +do as you would with; I'd not ha' saved it for mysel'. There's naught +else? I've thought times--happen, when someone came along wi' just all +the ways I'm wanting in--book-larned, perhaps, and clever--so I've +heard--and a gentleman. Doan't fancy that I'm not sartain ye would never +listen to a word ye shouldn't fro' any--I am sure o' that--but meaning +no blame to 'ee, Margaret--only seein' ye are still young, an'--an'----" +He stammered in his eagerness, and Meg felt that his hands were shaking. +It was extraordinary and amazing to her that Barnabas should care like +that. + +"I am not breaking my heart for anybody," she said rather indignantly; +"for Mr. Sauls least of all. Every one is rather silly about him, I +think--even Tom." + +"An' what about Tom?" asked the preacher; and Meg, in some dismay, found +herself let in for even greater revelations than she had intended. + +Barnabas was more indignant on her behalf than she expected or wished. + +He listened to the rather confused story in silence, except that he +interrupted once to ask: "Why didn't ye tell me? Didn't ye know I'd ha' +come fro' anywhere to take your part?" + +"It's all past now, and Tom and I have made it up; and it does not +matter any more," Meg wound up. She was anxious to forget that sore +subject, which had been such a perplexity to her. + +"There would have been no use in telling you when I couldn't prove that +I was speaking the truth. You see, I could not explain about the +letter; I can't understand, even now, what it was that Cousin Tremnell +picked up, but I have thought since that, perhaps----" + +"_I_ doan't want explaining to. Ye needn't fash yoursel'!" cried +Barnabas. There was something more like reproach in his tone than +anything she had heard before. Her explanation died. + +"Maybe I'm jealous! happen I've made ye miserable in ways I doan't know, +though I'd gi'e my blood for ye; but, if I had your word on one hand, +an' all the proofs the devil could bring on th' other, I'd believe ye, +Margaret; ay, an' without a doubt. So ye thought I'd need proofs afore +I'd be sartain ye weren't lying? I thank God I doan't! It takes less +than the eighteen months sin' we were married to find out whether a +person speaks truth or no. Why, I'd swear blindfold to yours; Ye may +mind that!" + +"I thought it was only women who believed like that," said Meg. "But you +would be right--and quite safe--and I will mind it." + +His confidence did her good; he was never likely to repent it. + +"Ye might ha' known wi'out telling," said Barnabas with a sigh; and the +sigh brought back her self-reproach. + +"Indeed," she cried wistfully, "I do trust and like you, Barnabas. I +would try to show it more, only----" + +"No!" said the man; "Doan't _try_." Then, seeing her surprised face: "Ye +just doan't understan'; but on th' day ye love me, my lass, there'll be +no need o' trying, nor yet o' my askin'. I ha' not pressed ye, Margaret, +an' I'll never do that; but I'll _know_ it, whether I'm i' this world or +the next." + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + + Two friends will in a needle's eye repose, + But the whole world is narrow for two foes. + + --_Jacula Prudentum._ + + +After the storm there was a calm. + +Margaret lay on the settle in the farm kitchen recovering slowly from a +sharp attack of marsh fever, and declaring in apparent jest, that had +more than a substratum of truth, that she was in no hurry to get well. + +"Some people hate being waited on and made a fuss over," she said; "but +I really like it; I like it when Tom brings me books, and Mr. Thorpe +flowers, and Cousin Tremnell tats lace caps for me. You are all so nice +when I am ill, that I don't see why I should give up being an invalid. +Why should I sit on a bench and spread my own bread and dripping, when +some one else will make toast for me and bring it over here? I am not at +all sure that I'll even condescend to put it into my own mouth! You must +cut it into three-cornered pieces, or I won't look at it!" + +And in the general laugh over her pretended airs, only one of her +hearers guessed how often the joke, that had become a family joke, about +liking to be waited on, hid real weariness and exhaustion. + +She could hardly have found a shorter cut to the favour of these strange +kinsfolk. They all united in petting her now that she was really ill. + +Mrs. Tremnell certainly liked her better for her delicacy. Meg always +privately believed that the good woman thought ill-health ladylike and +more befitting her birth. Tom and her father-in-law could never do +enough for her. + +She was, like her father, a charming patient, ready with prettiest +thanks for any service, and never complaining. Not one of them but would +have been sorry to miss the very feminine element she had brought into +that rather rough household. + +"A young woman do make it more interestin', if only 'cause you can never +count for sartain on what she'll say next," Tom remarked; and the whole +household had a habit of bringing any piece of news, from the birth of a +calf to the last town gossip, to Meg's settle. + +The 'little lady' saw all life, both her own and other people's, more +vividly and picturesquely than they did; and her sympathy was genuine +and quick. + +"If ye live here always, I believe ye'll become a sort o' little wise +woman to all the foalk hereabouts," her father-in-law said to her one +day. But Meg shook her head. She was doing her best to lie on the bed +she had made for herself; but she did not care to look forward. + +She was recovering morally as well as physically; but she couldn't go +too fast. + +"Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof" is a piece of wisdom that +we recognise at last, when we are tired out with the treble burden of +to-day, yesterday, and to-morrow. + +Barnabas worked on the farm through that August and the first half of +September, and Tom was glad enough to have him. + +The preacher had a wonderful faculty for turning his hands to anything; +and this was, perhaps, a counter-balance to his incapacity for and +dislike of "book-larning". + +He was in request as veterinary surgeon and bone-setter; and Meg used to +wonder that his strong clever fingers should have so delicate a touch. + +She learned to depend on him herself, insensibly, in a way that she +would once hardly have thought possible. + +Barnabas was a born nurse, and could lift her into an easier position +and slip her pillows into the right angle as no one else could. + +Mrs. Tremnell had an aimless manner of fluttering about on tip-toe in a +sick-room,--a habit which set Meg's nerves on edge, and which it taxed +all her self-command to endure without signs of impatience; but the +preacher's heavy tread never jarred on her. He always knew exactly what +he meant to do in small as well as in big things; and both his decision +and his strength were restful. + +Possibly, if she had owed him less, she would have drawn near to loving +him. + +She had fancied when first taken ill that she was going to die. + +The shivering and burning, which left her daily weaker, which wearied +and exhausted her, would, she suspected, very effectually solve all the +difficulties that surrounded Barnabas and herself. But, after all, her +youth asserted itself. A spell of sharp, fresh weather seemed to give +her new life; the attacks of fever became shorter; and, very much to her +own surprise, she recognised that she was--albeit painfully and with +many relapses--getting better! + +She had been kept to the house for weeks; but there was no doubt as to +her convalescence, when, on one fine afternoon in September, Barnabas +carried her into the fields, where she lay under a rick watching the men +at work, the soft pink of returning health in her cheeks, her eyes soft +with pleasure at the wonder of summer growth and sweetness. + +Meg had not much wished to live; but, after all, the world was +beautiful! + +As she sat leaning against the rick, watching the in-gathering of the +scanty crop, listening to the rough voices a little mellowed by +distance, the preacher's wife knew that both place and people had now a +warm corner in her heart. + +Her gaze wandered past the low boundary fence, far away over the flats. +How often she had run out of the house and down to the field to look at +that view! + +She had thought that she should not see it again; and, even now, while +sitting there, a dreamy presentiment, that she could not shake off, came +over her. + +She felt as if she had got to the bottom of a page,--a page on which +such strange things had been written, both good and bad. Efforts, +desperate at times, to adapt herself to circumstances, failures sudden +and overwhelming, courage lost--and found again. + +"They have been very good to the stranger within their gates," she said +to herself. "I wish I could show them how grateful I am now! I wish I +were a saint to call down blessings on their harvest!" + +And she wished it with that fervour which one cannot help hoping is not +entirely wasted, even in the entire absence of saintship. + +She was so full of her own thoughts that she did not hear steps coming +over the stubble behind her. + +George Sauls had been up to the house and found the door set wide open, +and every one out; then, with a shrug of his shoulders at the primitive +confidence that still reigned in these parts, had gone on to the +hay-field, where he descried Mrs. Thorpe sitting under the rick. + +He stood behind her now without speaking. He was shocked to see how ill +she looked. He had always felt that Meg's beauty was of too spiritual a +kind; now, her complexion was more transparent than usual, and the +intent expression in her eyes made her look more spirit-like than ever. + +George felt his hatred of her husband leap up like a flame; it was +dangerously hot. She turned round and saw him. + +"Ah, I beg your pardon!" he cried. "I have frightened you! I ought not +to have appeared on the scene with such startling effect. I am a fool, +Mrs. Thorpe" ("and a greater fool than you guess," he added inwardly), +"and you? You have been ill?" + +"I am sure that you bring me news. Tell me quickly," said Meg. + +"I come from Mr. Deane; he has sent for you," answered George concisely. + +He put her father's note into her hand, and turned his back on her, +staring stolidly in front of him. + +"Has he told her he is dying, or has he left that pleasing piece of +intelligence for me to break to her?" he questioned. + +What a remarkably ugly view it was! He wondered whether the preacher was +among the men down there, or confined himself to preaching and left +working to the sinners. What should he do if Mrs. Thorpe cried? + +"Mr. Sauls!" said Meg; and he turned round and met her glance. She was +quivering with happiness. Her eyes were misty with tears, but her joy +shone through them. He had never seen any face that expressed joy so +vividly as hers. + +"No; he has not told her,--I can't," George decided hastily. He did not +often fail in moral courage, and over-sensitiveness was not among his +faults; but this woman always brought out a side of his character that +was exceedingly unfamiliar to himself. + +"I am so very, very glad that he will see me!" she cried. "You can't +guess what it is to have a word from him again. I don't know how to +thank you enough for bringing it." She looked again at the precious slip +of paper in her hand, and a fresh thought struck her. + +"My father says, 'I would have seen you before if I had known'. Was it +you who found out that I tried to see him? and did you tell him +so?--Yes? Oh, you have been a very good"--"_friend_" was on the tip of +her tongue, but she suddenly remembered his odd disclaimer of +friendship--"have been very kind to me; though I wonder" (thoughtfully) +"that Mrs. Russelthorpe let you tell him." + +"She was a little disinclined to allow an interview at first," said +George smiling; "but--but she felt the force of my arguments." + +"You must be very clever at persuading people." + +"I _was_ very persuasive," he said drily. + +The remembrance of his "persuasion" amused him somewhat; but he did not +care about giving Meg the details of that scene. + +"Look here, Mrs. Thorpe; I've brought you something else which you won't +like quite so much as that scrap of paper; but which I fancied you might +be pleased to have, for I remembered that you once told me that you +valued it." And he held out her locket. + +"Why, it has come back to me _again_!" cried Meg. "The first time it was +stolen; and Barnabas moved to repentance the poor girl who took it; but +this time, I sold it of my own free will, and----" + +"And I moved no one to repentance," said George. "I can't compete with +the preacher; I paid over the counter. His was the more excellent way!" + +Meg drew back a step. Whenever she felt most kindly to Mr. Sauls +something in his tone jarred on her. It had been so in her girlhood; it +was so now. + +"There is no question of competition," she said. "Shall we try to find +Barnabas? Oh! there he is." + +He was coming towards them across the field; but he did not at first see +Mr. Sauls, who was in the shadow. + +George would have preferred to meet Meg's husband when Meg was not by; +but he stood his ground. He was not going to be driven away by the +fellow, much as he disliked him. + +He had often said to himself that it was more than possible that the +canting humbug ill-treated the woman he had stolen. Such a belief would +justify any amount of hatred; but he knew it to be untenable when he saw +the expression of the preacher's eyes as they turned to Meg. + +He ought, logically, to have hated the preacher less in consequence; +but, on the contrary, a tingling sensation assailed his foot; he wanted +to kick the man with a longing the fierceness of which surprised +himself. Mr. Sauls was a highly sophisticated product of a rather +artificial age; but certain primitive instincts have an astonishing way +of asserting themselves at times. + +"Barnabas, this is Mr. Sauls, who has brought me a letter from my +father," said Meg. She felt a slight uneasiness while making the +introduction; the two men were so thoroughly antipathetical. But she had +great trust in the preacher's instinct of hospitality, and in Mr. Sauls' +_savoir faire_. She was not in the least prepared for what followed. The +preacher's countenance changed when he looked at her visitor. + +"I've seen ye afore, sir," he said in a low voice. "It passes me how ye +are not 'shamed to be i' this county again. If I'd been here, I'd not +ha' let my wife sit at th' same table with ye." + +His fingers clenched unconsciously, his face grew stern, his blue eyes +very bright. Meg had seen him look like that only once before--when he +had caught the idiot frightening her. + +Mr. Sauls put up his eyeglass and stared deliberately, and a little +insolently. He always grew outwardly cool when an adversary waxed hot. + +"You have the advantage of me," he said. "I don't know to what +particular cause for shame you are alluding. Mrs. Thorpe has never, I +believe, been the worse for _my_ acquaintance, either from a spiritual +or worldly point of view." + +The innuendo made Meg hot, but the preacher did not notice it. + +"Ye need not tell me that," he said; "but ye are no' fit company for +her, unless ye ha' repented." + +Meg put her hand on his arm. "I don't know what all this is about," she +said; "but Mr. Sauls has come a long way to bring me news of my father. +I am very grateful to him for that." + +A month ago she would not have tried to remonstrate. + +"You need not be afraid, Mrs. Thorpe," said George. "I don't quarrel +before ladies; but, if your husband likes to attempt 'bringing me to +repentance' when you are not by, I shall be delighted, and will promise +to give him every attention." + +He paused; but the preacher kept a tense silence. The appeal in his +wife's voice, and, perhaps, the touch of her fingers, restrained him. + +"Good-afternoon!" said George, and turned on his heel. + +"Good-bye!" said Meg, and then held out her hand. She had been angry at +the sneer at the preacher; but she could not bear, even seemingly, to +desert any one who had done her a service. + +"Please shake hands with me," she said. "And don't go away angry, after +having brought me such good news." + +She felt a little as if she were standing between fire and gunpowder, +but that did not appear in her manner. She would have thought it +"beneath" both herself and Barnabas to allow it to. + +George took the hand, and held it a moment in his. He would have liked +to kiss it, and all the more because that "canting brute" was looking +on; but he did not: he reverenced Meg too much. + +"Give my most humble respects to Mrs. Russelthorpe," he said; and then, +with real kindliness: "I am glad you are going to your father. You will +go soon? That's right! He is waiting for you. He told me to tell you to +make haste. He will do his best to wait till you come." + +"He will!" said Meg. "I think we shall see each other this once more, +because we both want it so." + +"A most illogical 'because,'" said George to himself. "But yet, God +bless her, and give her her heart's desire!" + +He looked back once, and saw the two still standing under the rick. + +"And d----n the preacher!" he added. "By-the-bye, what had that fellow +meant?" George grew angry in thinking of him. + +But in Margaret's heart there was a great peace. + +Her father had not cast her off; it was only she who had been +faithless. + +Oh! it was so much easier to cry, _Mea culpa_! than to allow that he had +forgotten. + +She had tried to offer God resignation, but He had given her joy. The +level rays of the setting sun lit up her happy face, and made her short +hair shine like a halo round her head. She put her hand before her eyes, +and laughed a low, soft laugh like a contented child. + +Mr. Sauls was not a very angelic messenger; but he had brought her peace +and goodwill. With a radiant smile she watched him make his way over the +shining, sun-tinged stubble. That smile, however, was not for him. + +The preacher woke her from her golden reverie. + +"What does he call himself?" he asked. + +"My father?--oh, you mean Mr. Sauls?" + +"Then he lies!" said Barnabas succinctly. "For his name's Cohen, and +he's the man who ruined Lydia. His hand is not clean enough to touch +you, Margaret. It were all I could do not to pull ye back; only," cried +the preacher with sudden bitterness, "I minded he's a gentleman, who +ye'd naturally trust, an' _I_ might ha' scared ye." + +"I am not scared by you," said Meg. "I never am now." + +She brought her thoughts back from London and her father with something +of a jerk. How could this be? Surely it was a mistake. It was impossible +to connect Mr. Sauls' familiar, and, to her, commonplace figure, with +the villain of the preacher's tragedy. Mr. Sauls wasn't a villain, and +he was never tragic. + +Then she looked at Barnabas; and, at the sight of the strong indignation +in his face, her sympathy suddenly turned to him. She had loved neither +of these men; but the preacher's was the type she understood best. The +man who sneered could never appeal to Meg, who was religious to her +finger tips, as did the man who fought and agonised and prayed. Her +loyalty and faith were on the preacher's side; and her loyalty and faith +were strong allies. If the story was true, how durst Mr. Sauls have come +and have met Barnabas unashamed? + +"I don't understand," she said. "I don't want to think him wicked. He +has been very good to me. Have you read my father's message? That was +Mr. Sauls' doing; he told father how I had tried and failed. Oh, yes, +and he brought back my locket too--though that is nothing in comparison +to the message." + +Barnabas turned the locket over in his hand. It was a curious possession +to lie on his brown palm. It reminded him of a good many things. + +"Ye canna keep it!" he said at last. "But ye shall go to your father. +We'll start by to-morrow's coach, an' ye like. I'll be taking you to a +sink of iniquity, but I knew I'd go to London some day. No! doan't thank +me, lass. Do ye suppose I doan't see wi'out tellin' that that's what +ye've wanted more nor ought else, an' that it's new life to 'ee? He +pulls hardest. Ye'll go back to your own people!" He sighed heavily. A +presentiment of parting was on him, and his dread of London amounted to +an absolute and quite unreasoning horror. + +"But for th' locket--I'll not hav' ye touch what that rascal's fingers +ha' dirtied. I'll follow and tell him that." + +"Not that, Barnabas! Promise me you won't quarrel with him! Take the +locket, if you like--but promise." + +"Are ye feared for him?" + +"No. Though, if I were, I shouldn't be ashamed of it! I'm not afraid for +him, but _you'll_ never forgive yourself, if you hurt him. Oh, +Barnabas!" cried Meg, half laughing. "You repent more bitterly over +your sins than he does. I don't want you to go in sackcloth and ashes +all your days for Mr. Sauls, who has never in his life, I suppose, felt +for any one what you have." + +"God forgi'e me! I ha' hated him sorely," said Barnabas; "but, an' it's +for _me_, Margaret--I'll promise." + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + + +"What had the fellow meant?" George puzzled over that point on his way +back to N----town. It had been more than a mere ranting denunciation of +the "rich man" as a "rich man". The indignation had been evidently +personal to himself. + +"If I'd been here, I'd not ha' let my wife sit at table wi' ye! It +passes me that ye are not ashamed to come to this county again." How did +the man know that he had ever been before? + +To tell the truth, Mr. Sauls had once or twice felt in Meg's presence a +little ashamed of a certain old story, though he did not regard the sins +of his youth with the loathing that filled Barnabas Thorpe's soul at the +thought of past backsliding. + +Very few men's lives could be laid entirely open to the inspection of a +good woman, George supposed; and he had never professed to be one of the +"unco guid". + +He grew angrier still with the preacher, at the thought of his ferreting +out and telling Meg that tale, and he pictured the horror with which she +would hear it. + +George used to notice long ago with some amusement (he had often been +privately amused with Miss Deane) that she was apt to be rather sweeping +in her condemnations; seeing, in her extremely youthful innocence, only +black and white, with no shades of grey between; judging with the crude +severity that has not known temptation. It did not "amuse" him now to +think of that. + +That hypocrite would paint his portrait as a profligate, and a seducer +of innocence; and Meg, looking at it all from a woman's point of view, +would feel as if her hand had touched pitch in touching his. + +"For commend me to a preacher for hunting down a scandal, and to a good +woman for a hard sentence," he thought bitterly. Yet, if she could only +know, even then, even in his rowdy, unsatisfactory boyhood, he had not +been so utterly bad. + +"Innocence" had never been the worse for him--never once. It was not +"innocence" that he had flirted with in the hotel in the market town of +Clayton; he and all the rest of the rather fast set he had affected in +those days. There are country girls as far from simplicity as any town +maiden; as there are town maidens as freshly innocent as cowslips in a +field. Lydia Tremnell, the pretty saucy school-friend of the +hotel-keeper's daughter, certainly had not belonged to the latter genus; +and, possibly, Mr. Sauls wouldn't have paid her attention if she had. + +At one and twenty George had had no liking for bread-and-butter misses. +If he had met a girl of Meg's type _then_, he would have found her dull; +but he followed the prevailing fashion and raved about Lydia, who, +indeed, was pretty enough to charm most men's senses, and witty, too, in +a rather pert fashion. + +Now he came to think of it (but it was all so long ago!) he had a faint +recollection of a very irate cousin of Lydia's who came to fetch her +home, very much against her will; could _that_ have been Barnabas +Thorpe? + +He had kept up a half-joking correspondence with her afterwards; but no +one could have been more astonished than he was when the young woman +turned up at his rooms in London one day, and threw herself utterly and +completely on his protection! + +Looking back now across the years that separated his ambitious and +successful manhood from his unpromising youth, Mr. Sauls said to +himself, "what a young idiot he had been!" but it had been no case of +betrayal. + +He had never promised Lydia marriage; he had never lured her up to town; +he would have sent her home, if she had chosen--only he was no Joseph. +Yes! what a fool he had been; Meg would call him by a harder name! + +There had been a very curious end to the vulgar story. Lydia fell ill +with a most malignant form of small-pox when she had been with him a +week. + +She clung desperately to him then, entreating him to hold by her, not to +send her away to die in a hospital; she had an absolute unreasoning fear +of hospitals. She hardly expected him to accede to her agonised prayers; +she would not have stood by him or by any one else in a like case; and, +what there was of good in George Sauls, she had never been the woman to +find out; but he did accede to them, greatly to her wonder. + +George was not in love with her, he had not a shred of respect for her; +but, when she turned to him in direst need, the something not ignoble in +him responded and he _did_ not desert her. To say that that loathsome +disease had no terrors for him would scarcely be true; but he had a +constitutional dislike to running away, and he faced the terrors; which, +perhaps, on the whole, might be counted very much to his credit. + +Lydia died after a week's illness. "I don't want to live with marks on +my face," she had said. "What should I do, grown ugly? but you have been +better than most men would have been." She had no qualms about her +soul, and no longing for her mother. She had no violent affection for +any one or anything, except, perhaps, her own beautiful body, which had +been spoilt by the marks on it. If George Sauls had been a poor man, he +would not have been troubled with her. + +George experienced none of the terrible remorse that the preacher would +have felt in like circumstances; but, nevertheless, while he stood by +Lydia's grave, he made some resolutions which he kept. + +Probably, in any case, the stronger qualities of the man, the intense +ambition, and keen pleasure in work, the sweetening affection for the +mother and sister he pulled up with him, would have asserted themselves, +and kept his coarser qualities in subjection as he grew older; but the +episode of Lydia and the hours spent beside her bedside ripened him +fast. He made an end of the sowing of wild oats. They didn't pay! + +He had lived a clean life since; but Meg would not know that--and it was +fifteen years ago! + +George felt it unfair that so old a sin should rise up now to blacken +his image in the mind of the woman he had the misfortune to love. + +He had been surprised when he had first heard the name of Tremnell +again; but Lydia's mother had never so much as seen him, and _his_ name +bore no association for her. He had changed it, on coming into money, +and was Cohen-Sauls, instead of Cohen, now; and his cool assurance had +carried him safely through the unexpected encounter. The difference +between thirty-six and twenty-one was so wide that he hardly even felt +self-conscious. + +It was odd that the preacher should have recognised him. "The pious +humbug!" said George between his teeth; "at least, my hands are cleaner +than his! I never took advantage of her faith, though certainly I never +had the chance. He'll draw a sweet picture of the wicked man for her; I +shall point a moral to several sermons. If I might meet him this once, +with no woman standing by, perhaps I might deliver a message too. Hallo, +what's this?" + +He had been walking quickly, not looking much at the flat landscape +around him; but his eye was caught by a newly made fence round the +"Pixies' Pool" which lay a little off the regular track. + +Moved by curiosity, he turned towards it, and leaning his arms on the +rail, stared down into the salt depths that had had such fascination for +Meg. + +Mr. Sauls was not in the least imaginative, but while thus engaged he +had rather an odd sensation,--a sensation as if some one behind him were +watching him; and he turned round sharply. + +No one was by his side; it must have been fancy; but, the next minute, +he did descry a man walking along the track he had just left, walking at +full speed, with a long swinging step; and, with the man's approach, Mr. +Sauls recognised the preacher. + +Barnabas came deliberately towards him. + +"Have the pixies granted me my wish?" thought George with a sneer. "Now, +my holy friend, we'll have it out! I wouldn't have gone out of my way to +quarrel with you, for her sake; but if you choose to follow me, why, the +meekest of men could not stand that." + +He lighted a cigar leisurely, and, with his back against the rail, +awaited the preacher's approach; with a satisfaction which, perhaps, the +"meekest of men" would hardly have experienced. + +"I wanted to catch ye up," said Barnabas; and so the two stood face to +face at last, with no one between them. + +"At your service," said George. His tone was lazily insolent, though, as +a rule, he carefully abstained from patronising his inferiors in rank. + +He scanned Barnabas between half-shut eyelids. It was not the least of +this fellow's offences that he looked so honest. + +"I followed to give ye back this. It's not fitting my wife should tak' +aught fro' ye; I'd liefer ye had it again. She's no need o' diamonds, +an' if she had, they shouldna be bought wi' your money. She's obliged to +'ee, sir," with an evident after-thought; "an' here they be." + +"I am sorry to disoblige," said George, lifting his shoulders. "I will +not press a gift on Mrs. Thorpe against her will. When she gives it back +to me herself, I'll take it; till then _I_ had 'liefer' she kept it." + +The preacher put the locket down on the rail that fenced the pond. +"She'll not do that," he said quietly. "Take it or leave it, as you +like; it's yours." And he turned to go. + +"Stop!" said George, standing upright. "You were loud enough in your +denunciations when a lady,"--somehow he hated saying "your wife"--"when +a lady was present. Let's hear the whole matter now. When did you meet +me before, and where? And why, pray, don't you take this opportunity for +a word in season? Do you only preach under shelter of petticoats?" + +"There's been matter enough atwixt you and me," said Barnabas. Good God! +there had been matter enough, indeed! + +He would have answered Mr. Sauls differently in his hot youth; now, +after many seasons of constant labour for a Master who claimed his +fighting powers, his reply came slowly, with no loss of self-command; +but none the less forcibly for that. + +"I've seen ye twice afore. If it were twice fifteen years ago I'd know +ye again. I saw ye once fooling with a maid, teachin' her the devil's +game, that meant play to ye, and death to her. I saw ye a second time +standin' by her grave." + +The veil of those fifteen years seemed lifted for a moment; both men +felt themselves back in that London churchyard thick with fog, with +Lydia's grave between. + +"She paid the price, and you got off scot free," said the preacher. "It +seemed to me then as if it would ha' evened things to ha' laid ye dead +too; but they held me back, and now----" He broke off short, and there +was silence for a moment. + +George broke it with the elaborately nonchalant accent that showed he +was a little stirred. "Ah well! I was shockingly out of training in +those days," said he. "It was lucky that you didn't yield to your desire +to even things; for you'd have swung for it, you know. Let's hear all +you have to say; for you won't get another chance of converting this +reprobate--and _now_!" For all the studied coolness of his tone, his +fingers clenched; it was not Lydia he was thinking of now. + +"And now," said the preacher steadily, "I will let vengeance alone. No, +I've naught to say. I didn't come to preach to ye; I've hated ye too +much for that. Ye asked me where we'd met, and why I said ye are no fit +company for _her_. Now ye know." + +"Thanks!" said George. "Yes--now I know." That stress on the "her," that +reverence and something more than reverence in the preacher's voice, +stung his desire to quarrel. It became uncontrollable; he must. + +"I don't pretend to piety," he said, playing with the chain of the +locket he had picked up, after all; for his common-sense could not +allow him to leave it hanging on a fence. "I am no saint, as you are +very much aware. Perhaps that's why I've an unholy horror of men who +make sermons a vehicle for love-making, and catch good women by trading +on an instinct for self-sacrifice; women who would never dream of +looking at them, if they were approached in any other way. I may have +done things to be ashamed of; most men have. But there are forms of +hypocrisy that make one sick to contemplate. I don't know that I was +ever a hypocrite." He put up his eyeglass, and stared at the preacher +slowly from head to foot. "Nevertheless, I own that your plan has paid +best. I congratulate you on the success of your preaching." + +It was as deliberate an insult as could have been elaborated. Mr. Sauls +felt better when he had said that. The pleasure of telling Meg's husband +what he thought of him was worth a good deal; and his words hit. +Barnabas flushed hotly, and stood crushing his fingers together. + +"I'm sworn not to fight on my own quarrel," he said in a choked voice; +and the reply cost him a hard struggle with the "old Adam". Meekness was +not the preacher's natural characteristic. + +"That was a most convenient oath!" said George. Was the man a coward? he +wondered. "Do you go so far as turning the other cheek?" + +"I'm not meaning to fight with ye; I told her I'd not do it; but," said +the preacher, drawing his breath hard, "it 'ud take more nor a man to do +_that_." + +"Ah! I am glad you draw the line at _that_," said George. Again it was +the pronoun that was more than he could stand. He raised his cane with a +sudden swift movement. + +"Come! you draw it at the 'other cheek,' eh?" + +Barnabas sprang forward and caught the descending blow on the palm of +his hand; his fingers closed on the cane. He jerked it out of his +enemy's grasp, broke it across his knee, and flung it into the pool. God +knew how fierce was the longing in him to send Mr. Sauls after it. He +had forced his assailant backwards in the half-minute's struggle, and +George himself had wondered for a second whether a plunge into the black +water would be the end of it all. + +"Ye can think me a coward if ye choose," said Barnabas. "Happen I'd be +one if I broke an oath for your thinking. I'll not fight with ye, man." + +George, who had felt the preacher's strength, eyed him thoughtfully. +Even he recognised that it was not fear that had flashed into those blue +eyes a few moments ago. + +"Well, you see," he remarked coolly, "men who won't fight usually _are_ +cowards in this wicked world; and poor men who walk off with confiding +young ladies, blest with rich papas, usually have an eye to the main +chance; but I own I--I half believe you honest after all." + +"I'd just as lief ye' didn't," said Barnabas shortly; "I'm not wishful +for your good opinion." + +And Mr. Sauls turned and went his way, a little breathless; for, if +Barnabas hadn't fought, he'd done something rather like it; but George +liked him a shade the better for that last unsaintly speech. + +"I am afraid the preacher would have got the best of it, though I am not +a weakling," he reflected. "He would have liked to put me on my back +too. He didn't enjoy having to refuse that fight and play the peaceful +_rôle_, in spite of 'not being wishful for my good opinion'. Is he, +after all, more fanatic than hypocrite? Can he be----Hallo! where am I +getting to?" + +His reflections were cut short by his foot sinking ankle-deep in a bog. +Mr. Sauls turned to the right and walked a few paces further; then, +becoming aware that some one was following him, was about to turn round, +laughing at the foolish fancy that had attacked him for the second time, +when a sudden shock brought bright flashes of light before his eyes; the +earth seemed to spin round with him, the ground gave way. He was struck +down by a blow from behind, and fell without a cry, lying still and +white amongst the rank grass. + + * * * * * + +The next morning Barnabas and Margaret started for London. + +Meg had packed her few possessions before day-break, and was standing by +her window with her bundle beside her, when Mrs. Tremnell called her +downstairs. + +"There's Granny Dale wanting to see you, Margaret. Tom won't let her in +the house; he's that angry with her for something Barnabas told him +she'd said to you. But she won't go away. She just rampages outside in a +way that is most annoying for a decent person to listen to." + +"I'll come," said Meg, though rather unwillingly; and she ran down into +the paved yard, guided by the sound of Granny Dale's shouts. + +Granny stopped "rampaging" at the sight of her; and burst at once into a +whining torrent of apology for past bad behaviour to the sweet lady who, +she was sure, would "forgive a poor owd body, who hadn't touched bite or +sup since, for thinkin' on it". + +The old woman looked dirtier and more disreputable than ever; and her +eyes had a malicious and rather scornful gleam in them that belied her +words, the while Meg confusedly accepted her repentance. + +"It was all my silliness, granny," cried the preacher's wife. + +"An' it's like the dear to say so! Didn't I knaw as yo'd not be down on +a poor soul as has wark eno' to keep hersel', let alone her son and her +deead darter's son, out o' the house? Yo' as be th' apple o' thy +husband's eye too; for sartain I wur 'mazed to say----" + +"Ask what she's wanting, and cut it short," said Tom, to Meg's relief +appearing behind her. "What a little fool ye were to come down, +Barnabas' wife! I'd ha' made short work of her. Well, granny, what's the +output? What do 'ee want Mrs. Thorpe to do for 'ee that you're so sweet +on her to-day?" + +"If she'd just spake a word for me to the preacher." And this time there +was a genuine anxiety in granny's tone. "He's that angered wi' me that +he's gi'en me ower to the devil." + +"Oh Lord!" said Tom, "but there wasn't much required on the part of +Barnabas. The devil must ha' cried small thanks for givin' him his own." + +"Don't, Tom; she is so unhappy," said Meg. "I am sure the preacher did +not mean that," turning to granny. "No man could give any one to the +devil--even if he wanted to." + +"Couldn't he now?" cried the old woman sharply. "Thee's but out o' th' +egg-shell, my dear; an', happen, ye doan't knaw that as well as I! I +doan't want 'ee to tell me what can an' can't. I want 'ee to spake a +word for me, an' get him to take off his curse an' come an' look to my +pig, as is ta'en wi' sickness, an' to see to my donkey, as has broke +his knees, an' to find Timothy--Timothy, as has never come whoam all +this blessed night." + +Her voice broke into a wail with the recapitulation of her woes. Granny +could not cry; she was too old for tears to be near the surface; but she +covered her face with her ragged skirt, and moaned like a banshee. + +"He allus stood atween me an' them," rocking herself to and fro; and +whether "them" meant heavenly or diabolical powers, or both, Meg could +not tell. + +"He wur allus there when I wur took bad; an' now he's angered wi' me, +and, if ye don't spake a word, my pig 'ull die, and Timothy won't never +be found, an' I'll die wi' no one to say a prayer for me, an' the devil +'ull ha' my soul!" + +Tom laughed hard-heartedly at the climax. "And serve ye right," he said. +"Look 'ee, granny: Mrs. Thorpe's a deal too soft-hearted, but I ain't, +and ye'd best be off now. Hullo! here is the preacher. Come, lad; +granny's wantin' your wife to coax ye to cheat Satan, as she says ye've +made her ower to." + +Barnabas Thorpe's face wore the rather strained look that Meg had +learned to know meant a night's "wrestling with the spirit," probably on +the marshes. + +He found it hard to pray under a roof; and these nightly communings +seemed a sort of necessity to him, giving him fresh power for the work +that had a physical as well as a spiritual side. + +"What are ye doin' here?" he said sternly; and the old woman edged away +from him in such evident fear that Meg's chivalry was aroused; she could +never bear to see any one frightened. + +"What have you said to make her fancy such terrible things?" she cried. + +"Naught but the truth," said Barnabas. "Have me an' mine done anything +but good to 'ee, Granny Dale? For what did ye set to work to hurt my +wife wi' your foul tongue? For love o' wickedness? _I_ never sent ye to +th' devil. Ye are fond o' his service wi'out my sending." + +"Which was what I said," laughed Tom. "No, it ain't no use your lookin' +shocked at us, Barnabas' wife. Granny should ha' minded which side her +bread's buttered, and kep' a civil tongue. She'll get no more fro' me." + +And granny wailed again, as well she might; for no more from Tom meant +short commons in the winter. It was hard to say which oppressed her +most, the spiritual or the temporal look-out. + +Meg looked from one brother to the other. There was something grotesque +in the scene; but the old woman's genuine misery moved her. + +"Oh, _do_ go and help her!" she exclaimed. "Barnabas, do go--for my +sake!" + +She hardly expected her appeal to be successful; but it was, and on the +instant. + +Granny, who had been watching furtively behind her uplifted skirt, +stopped moaning at once. + +"Come along; though ye doan't deserve it," said the preacher. "Ye can +tell me what's wrong as we go. Catch hold of my arm, for we'll ha' to +hurry. I'll be back in time, Margaret; I can run comin' home." + +And granny, clutching his arm hard, poured forth the tale of her +misfortunes while she trotted by his side, with evident relief at being +reconciled to the "powers that be". + +"It is very extraordinary," said Meg. + +Tom laughed gruffly. + +"Ay, it is. I doan't know how ye do it, but ye _do_ twist him round +that little finger o' yours, times; though ye look as if butter wouldn't +melt i' your mouth." + +"It is extraordinary that that old woman should feel safe if the +preacher forgives her, and given over to the devil if he is angry. If he +were a Roman Catholic priest, one could understand it; but Barnabas, who +thinks the pope 'Antichrist,' and a priest a 'messenger of Satan'!" + +"H'm! Natures come out th' same, whether they're Methodies, or +Catholics, or Heathen Chinees. There'll allus be some as like to put a +shelter 'twixt them an' th' Almighty. Happen moast women do; an' whether +it's pope, or kirk, or priest, 'tain't much real odds, I expects. It +saves them trouble. Barnabas is cocksure o' everything, an' it's +cocksureness as takes; an' so long as he's strong, weak foalk 'ull cling +to him. That ain't odd as t'other. Well, it's moast a pity ye are goin', +now ye ha'e got sure we ain't ogres. My word! how scared ye were of us +at first! Do 'ee mind running away i' th' middle o' dinner? An' how ye +looked when I axed your name? I shook i' my shoes then!" + +"You have all been very good to me," cried Meg gratefully. "Oh, let me +say it for once, Tom." + +He grunted impatiently. + +"And I shouldn't 'look' if you called me 'Margaret' now--I should like +it." + +"No," said Tom, puckering up his face into rather an odd expression. "Ye +shall be 'Barnabas' wife' to me till th' end o' th' chapter." + +He went off whistling, and Meg presently went down to the field to wait +for Barnabas. + +Granny Dale's cottage was some way off; but she had no doubt that the +preacher would be back in time; she had implicit faith in his promises, +and there were still a few minutes to spare when she saw him return. + +She noticed again, when he drew near, that he looked worn and harassed; +but his expression softened, as it always did, at sight of her. + +"Ye'll be glad enough to leave th' place," he said. His voice sounded so +dispirited that Meg, with an unusual impulse, put her arm through his as +they stood together, and moved closer to him. + +It had been dawning on her of late that this man's love for her gave her +a power to help or hinder him, such as no one else, not even Tom, +possessed; and that, occasionally, for all his strength, he needed help. +It was an idea slow to take root, an idea she was half afraid of, which, +once accepted, might work strange wonders. + +"What is the matter?" she asked. + +"It's a fearful thing to hate a man!" said the preacher. "One fasts and +prays all night, but in the morning it's still there, and stronger. One +thinks that one has been on the Lord's side, and wakes up to see that in +one's heart one has been on the devil's--and after years. For 'Whoso +hateth his brother'--and after years!" + +The horror in his face was so intense, bringing out a curious likeness +to the father, to whom, in the main, he was so unlike, that Meg's desire +to comfort waxed strong. + +"You _are_ on the Lord's side, Barnabas!" she cried. "He knows that you +are, whatever your heart may say. Your whole will and life are His. +Well," after a pause, "did you find granny's son for her?" + +"Happen we'll find him in London," said Barnabas. "It's nearer hell than +any other place i' God's earth, an' Timothy has a natural hankerin' +after what's foul." + +"You hate going there," said Meg softly; "but I am glad you are coming +with me, Barnabas. Even though I am going to my father--I am glad! As +for Timothy, I don't see how it's possible to find him in London. I +almost think" (with a shudder) "that he is better lost. Even you can't +convert him, for there's nothing in him to convert." + +But the man's face brightened. + +"Glad, are ye?" he said. "There's naught that's impossible, my lass!" + +And so life at the farm came to an end; and they went out together +again. + + + + +THIRD PART. + + + + +CHAPTER I. + + +Barnabas Thorpe stood preaching by the river. He had preached in +northern manufacturing towns, where the struggle for life is hard; he +had preached by the sea shore, and in little outlying hamlets in the +mining districts; but he had spoken nowhere as he spoke to-day in +London. + +This city, of great wealth and great poverty; of idlers and slaves; +these churches, where the rich man sat on cushioned seats, and the poor +man on benches hard as charity; these women, with hoarse voices and +hungry eyes, who followed him in the streets; these children, for whom +the Kingdom of Heaven might indeed be open, but for whom earth had more +kicks than blessings--all these stung him to a passionate eloquence that +almost touched despair. + +Did Luxury never look backwards over her shoulder at the black misery +treading close at her heel? he wondered. Would the men of Sodom and +Gomorrah rise up in judgment on this place? + +Perhaps (though he did not know it, being little given to analysis), a +sharp personal want pointed his realisation of the contrast between the +Dives and the Lazarus of London; for his wife at this moment was with +her father. + +He stood on a barrel by the water's edge--the Thames was neither sweet +nor clean at Stepney--and preached of Heaven in the midst of, what +seemed to him, an uncommonly good imitation of hell. + +It was a close evening; but there was a fine drizzling rain falling, +that damped everything except the preacher's ardour, which always burnt +more fiercely for opposition, either physical or moral. + +Even without his barrel he would have been a head taller than most of +his hearers. His vigorous manhood was in strong contrast to the stunted +specimens of riverside humanity gathered round him--under-sized, +unhealthy youths, who looked as if they had done nothing but "loaf" from +the day they were born; girls with straight fringes, and paper feathers +stuck in their hats, and just a sprinkling of navvies, a burlier and +more hopeful, though brutal, element. + +Barnabas Thorpe's voice rang through the heavy air, and all these faces +were upturned towards him, as if under a spell. To his left stood a +group of swarthy-complexioned foreign sailors; black-haired, with +earrings in their ears. One of them wore a saffron-coloured handkerchief +round his throat, and had a green parrot on his wrist; he made a spot of +brightness in the prevailing dun colour of the crowd. + +Probably these strangers understood hardly one word in ten of that +vehement discourse, delivered with a strong L----shire drawl; but they +also listened, as if something in the man's personality, the something +stronger than words, held their attention. + +With those closely packed squalid houses on the one side of him; with +the slowly flowing river, whose waters had given the quietus to so many +a miserable body (as for the desperate souls, God only knew what had +become of them), on the other, he painted that second coming, when the +glory of the Lord shall flash from East to West, and His judgment shall +tarry no longer. + +There was a mark on the preacher's left shoulder where some one had +playfully thrown a rotten egg at him, and a cut across his forehead, to +which he put his handkerchief once or twice; both were visible signs +that, in spite of the present breathless lull, Barnabas was not likely +to suffer from too much adulation. Indeed, he was a fighter born, and it +was, perhaps, the impress of strenuous effort that made his rugged face +a striking and rather refreshing sight in the midst of men who looked, +for the most part, as if the beast had decidedly got the better of the +angel in them. + +He stood bare-headed, his hand stretched out, his gaunt figure +silhouetted against the leaden sky, pleading with passionate force. He +felt the misery of London too strong for him at times; the atmosphere +oppressed him both mentally and physically; but the very sense of +oppression made preaching a relief. Better wear himself out striving +against this horror, than acquiesce, letting it stifle and choke him. + +There was a stir, a movement; the preacher lost hold of his audience. +Suddenly, as the snapping of the thread of a necklace which has been +strained tight sends each bead a different way, so attention was snapt, +the spell broken. + +The preacher, looking over the heads of the people, saw, first, a +confused mass of jeering, struggling lads, coming towards him, shouting +hoarsely; then, that they had in their midst some poor creature whom +they were baiting mercilessly, some one either drunk or mad; then, that +they scattered a little to the right and left, and the man (he could see +it was a man now) had broken loose and made a dash forward, panting and +stumbling. + +Instinctively, Barnabas shouted encouragingly, and jumping off his +barrel, held out his hands. He could never, for the life of him, keep +clear of a fray--especially if it were a case of overwhelming odds. + +The victim, when he heard the shout, looked up; his face ghastly, his +eyes wide open, with the strained, agonised look of a hunted hare. His +persecutors were closing on him again; when, with an inarticulate cry, +he shook himself free once more, and, running desperately forward, fell +at the preacher's feet, clinging to his knees. "Doan't let them!" he +cried; and Barnabas recognised him as Timothy. + +For one moment the preacher hesitated; he had a horror of the man. + +Then, "They'll shut me up!" cried Timothy; and there was a ring of +mortal terror in his voice. + +Barnabas himself would, any day, have preferred to face death to a long +imprisonment. He freed himself from Timothy's grasp, and stepped between +hunter and hunted. + +"I think ye should be 'shamed!" he said. "Ha' ye nought better to do +than to hound that poor creature to death or to Bedlam? which, happen, +is a deal worse! Let him be; he's past doin' any harm. Any way, ye'll +ha' to do wi' me first." + +There was a pause; the united strength of all this riff-raff would, +probably, have been more than a match for the preacher; but no one quite +cared to be the first to make the rush and "do wi' him". + +A big coalheaver in the background shouted derisively: "A nice, +white-livered set you are! Blessed if the Methody ain't a match for all +of you!" + +And then, all at once, the group broke up and scuttled away, dividing +itself among the labyrinth of squalid streets that sloped down to the +river; and tramp, tramp, with heavy, warning steps, in their tightly +buttoned swallow-tail coats and white trousers, came a detachment of +four City police, who promptly arrested Barnabas for making a +disturbance, and Timothy for being drunk, on the king's highway. + +"_That_ he's not," remarked the preacher. "He's got too little, not too +much, aboard this time." + +But he went to the police station without remonstrance, for he didn't +mean to lose sight of Timothy. + +Certainly Barnabas ought to have had enough of taking uncalled-for +responsibilities on his shoulders; but there were some simple lessons +which Dame Experience never could teach him, though she tried her +hardest, and punished him well for his denseness in learning. He never +could turn a deaf ear to a cry for mercy, nor refrain from burning his +own fingers in attempts to save other people's from fire. If his +doctrines were narrow, his pity was wide. It is a combination of +characteristics that gives an infinity of trouble--especially to the +owner. + +Timothy complicated matters by dropping on the floor of the police +station in an exhausted heap; but the officer in charge, having at last +arrived at the conclusion that the idiot was ill, not drunk, and that +the preacher had protected, not assaulted him, dismissed both with a +warning; and Barnabas found himself saddled with this most +unprepossessing incubus, whose present helplessness was his only +recommendation. + +It was as well, after all, that Margaret was not with him, he reflected; +he could not have borne to have had Timothy under the same roof with +her. The preacher had said many times, in the course of his experiences +in London, that it was "as well"; and said it with a sigh. + +He lodged at this time in one of the streets turning out of Commercial +Road. He always seemed to have an extraordinary knack of getting +employment. His fingers, which never _held_ money long, were seldom at a +loss in making it; and, perhaps, his luck had something to do with the +fact that no one ever forgot him, his personality being so strongly +marked. + +He had made one friend in London during that short visit fifteen years +before, namely Giles Potter, rat catcher, bird fancier, and bird +stuffer; and some people whispered dog stealer as well. Why the tipsy, +jolly, old reprobate was so fond of the preacher, of all men, no one +ever knew. + +The Barnabas Thorpe of the present, with his fanatical and +water-drinking earnestness, who preached in season and out of season, +would seem to have little to do with the desperate and crack-brained +young sailor, whom Giles had held back from murdering the man who had +robbed him of his sweetheart in the winter of 1834; but Giles had +recognised and welcomed him. + +The preacher worked all day in the back room of 33 Walton Street, curing +and stuffing with fingers that were a good deal steadier than his +companion's, and in grave silence for the most part, till the light +faded, when he would go out into the streets to preach; all the +suppressed energy of those long hours in a close atmosphere finding vent +in sermons that attracted larger crowds daily, and were beginning to be +talked about, even in the West End. Giles would go to hear him +sometimes; a disreputable, slouching old figure, in a rough fur cap; a +figure with loose thick lips and stubbled chin and kindly merry black +eyes. + +"Lord bless you, I always knew Barnabas had something queer inside him!" +he would say; "but I didn't reckon it would take this shape. To think of +him turning Methody! But he was bound to be something. If he hadn't +turned saint, he'd have swung from the gallows by now; he's the sort who +serves any master hard, whether it's God, or the devil! Let's drink to +his being made archbishop! He'd wake them all up a bit." + +Giles drank to that end pretty often, and Barnabas did the work +meanwhile: the business had not been so flourishing for years. + +Possibly it was out of consideration for those services, or, possibly, +because, with all his faults, a kinder-hearted old rascal never +breathed, that Giles, after much grumbling, allowed Barnabas to bring +Timothy under his roof. + +"You'll repent it, Barnabas!" he said. "Mark my words, we shall have an +inquest and no end of bother; and you'll wish you had taken good advice, +which is always as much wasted on you as good beer. That's as +evil-looking a sneak as ever I saw, and he's capable of dying on purpose +to spite you. Bring him in, if you're a fool; but you'll live to repent +it!" + +Something in the words made the preacher's careworn face graver still. + +"Happen I may," he said. "He said as bad luck was following me, but I +ain't goin' to be stopped by that." + +"Best turn him out again to make his ill prophecies in the gutter," said +Giles crossly. + +The two men were standing in the doorway now, Barnabas having deposited +Timothy on his own bed upstairs, and come down to breathe the cool night +air. + +In Commercial Road the shops and warehouses were still alight; he could +hear the continual roar of the traffic, but this little off-street was +nearly dark, and the battered figure-head of a ship gleamed ghostly and +white in the yard. The preacher stretched himself wearily and then +smiled. + +"That old _Miranda_ must feel precious queer here," said he. He stepped +into the yard, and put his hand on it. He had been sickened by what he +had been hearing; his patient, in mortal terror of death, had been +pouring forth a crazy confession of iniquities that made the preacher's +brain reel, though he had heard a good many "confessions" before now. + +Was it possible that any human being could really have committed all +these unspeakable horrors, or were they the mad imaginings of a diseased +brain? And was Timothy possessed by an unclean spirit, like the people +in the Bible whom the Christ cured? + +Barnabas at that moment felt that it would be easier to pray for fire +from Heaven to destroy, than for healing power to save. Surely it was +time for that second coming that should purge the world of its sins! How +he hated this place! + +Then the touch of the figure-head under his hand brought him a vision of +nights at sea; the hum of the great vans in Commercial Road changed to +the sound of water, and his soul was refreshed. The everlasting power he +had felt near in the salt strength of the sea, in the solemn wideness of +his native marshes, in the cold stillness of many an early morning among +the hills, was alive still. His heart went out to the strong Maker of +all things, with a cry for strength. + +"What are you thinking of?" said Giles. + +"I was thinking," said the preacher, "that if I was never to see the +country again, still I'd ha' been luckier than most o' the people here, +seein' I've been bred in it. An' that I've been an unprofitable servant, +too easy disgusted and weary in His service; that I've been given much +an' done little. I've had a near sight o' the Maker as town folk miss; +an' yet I ha' been cold an' out o' heart. I've been thinkin' I'll do +more if He'll show me how." + +Giles put his head on one side, like a wise old bird, and peered up at +Barnabas through the gathering gloom. + +"I wouldn't say that if I was you," he remarked. "Don't you be righteous +overmuch; it ain't safe." + +But the preacher went back to his post with fresh zeal. + +Timothy was sitting upright, staring and pointing wildly at a corner of +the room; he shrieked to Barnabas to come and stand between him and +"it". + +It was curious how, in his extremity, with the terror of death before +him, he clung to Barnabas, whom he had always feared and hated, as the +only person capable of exorcising the horrors that surrounded him. +Barnabas lighted a candle and examined the corner. + +"There's naught there!" he said. + +"It's shifted; it wur afeart o' ye; it's behind me now!" cried Timothy. +"It's makin' signs; it's pointin' to its head, and I didn't go to kill +him. I only meant--it's comin' nearer--doan't, doan't! Ah!----" + +There was another agonised shriek. Timothy tried to spring out of bed, +the drops of sweat standing on his forehead. + +Barnabas put his hands on the madman's shoulders and forced him back. +This sort of thing had been going on at intervals for the last three +hours, and the preacher began to feel as if he were the unwilling +spectator of the tortures of the damned. Indeed, he believed, almost as +firmly as the miserable Timothy, that there was a devil in the room. + +"It's no good doing that, man," he said at last, when Timothy made +another frantic attempt to hide. "If it's a spirit ye are scared of, ye +can't escape it so. If ye ha' done it a wrong, confess afore it's too +late; and the Lord will, mayhap, ha' mercy on ye an' lay it." + +"You'll not call in any one to shut me up, and I'll tell ye," said +Timothy. "I'll be glad to get rid of 'em; but you'll not shut me up! The +stones wur burning through my cap into my brain; I see 'em all on fire +now--there! blazin' away. Ye _must_ see 'em. Look inside the cap there +in the corner, where it's standin' again." + +The preacher glanced at Timothy's cloth cap, an ordinary enough article, +such as nearly all the L----shire men of that part wore, himself +included. He picked it up and shook it. Needless to say, no burning +stones fell out. Possibly the whole story was a delusion, but he could +not look on at this agony of terror any longer. + +"Tell me what ye ha' done, an' ease your mind," he said. + +"Ye'll not let me hang: ye'll not tell!" said Timothy. "Swear ye'll +not." + +"There's no need," said the preacher, "for _me_ to swear, who've never +betrayed any man, nor never could. I'll not betray ye." + +"It wur the back o' his skull," said Timothy, in an eager whisper; "just +here," putting his hand up to indicate the place. "He didn't bleed much, +but went down straight; an' I turned him over an' tuk 'em out o' his +pocket. I'd think it wur a dream, only he's followed me ever since. +That's becos they've not buried him. Ye'll find him two stones' throw +from the Pixies' Pond, lyin' very white an' quiet as if there weren't no +more mischief in him; but there be; he b'ain't one to forget, an' he's +tryin' to drag me to hell. He's makin' signs now. Barnabas, Barnabas, +he's----" + +"How long ago did ye kill him?" said the preacher. + +"Eh? how long? I should think it must ha' been a matter o' ninety-nine +years or maybe a hundred. Quite a hundred takin' it all round; what with +the time I was hidin' in the marshes, with him allus creepin' round and +peepin' behind bushes at me--tho' all the time pretendin' to lie quite +stiff, for I kep' goin' back to see--an' the time I was gettin' to town, +where they came hollerin' arter me an' said as I was mad. They allus say +that, if one speaks the truth." + +"So they do," said Barnabas. "So ye knocked a man down in the +Caulderwell marsh and robbed him, and ran away and came to London, eh?" + +"That's it!" cried Timothy. He leaned forward and caught the preacher's +coat, holding him as a drowning man might clutch at an arm stretched out +to save. + +"An' he won't forget; he's been huntin' me ever since, like a cat a +mouse, an' he'll have me this night if ye won't lay him; for I feel him +gettin' stronger every minute, an' I'm growin' weaker. He's a bit scared +o' ye, but if ye leave me a minute--there, there! he's yammerin' for me +from behind that curtain. Oh, doan't let him, for God's sake, Barnabas!" + +The poor wretch was shaking from head to foot. The spirit he feared was +the mad creation of his own brain; yet, none the less, it _was_ hunting +him to death. Barnabas Thorpe stood upright, and lifted up his hands +solemnly. + +"If there is any evil spirit here," he said, and his voice rang with +undoubting conviction, "I bid it begone, in the name of Jesus Christ the +Master." Timothy fell back panting, with a look of utter relief. + +"Ay, it's gone; I seed it go!" he said. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + + +A week had gone by, and Margaret was still at Bryanston Square. + +She had lost count of time; she could not have told how long ago she had +left the preacher on the threshold of the old house in which her +childhood and girlhood had been passed. + +"Ye'll find me when ye want me. Ye'd best stay wi' him till th' end," +Barnabas had said. + +He had caught a glimpse of the grand hall, of the painted walls and +ceilings; then the door had shut between them, and he had turned away +rather grimly. Those heathen gods and goddesses seemed to the preacher +fitting ornaments for the "heathenism" of luxury. But Margaret had gone +up the shallow stairs, looking neither to right nor left, straight to +her father at last! no one hindering. Mr. Deane was propped up on +pillows; his breath was coming short and fast, his eyes were very +bright, his whole soul seemed in them. When Meg crossed the room, the +strained look relaxed; when she knelt by his side, he laughed weakly. + +"Ah, I thought you'd do it, Meg!" he said. "Forgive? why, little +daughter, between you and me that's not the word! but you're--you're +mine again--and home!" + +He shut his eyes then, like a tired child who goes to sleep when its +treasure is put into its hand; and Meg knelt on motionless, with her +head on the pillow by his side. She had neither sight nor hearing for +any one else. + +He dozed, it might be for half an hour; then woke again, and the nurse, +who had been sitting at the foot of the bed, got up and moved softly +about, and brought a cup of arrowroot to him, and Meg fed him in +spoonfuls. + +He was too weak to lift his hand to his lips; but he whispered to her to +turn to the light, and to take off her bonnet, that he might see her +better. She laid it on the floor by her side, uncovering the short waves +of hair, that grew, exactly as her father's grew, low on the forehead. + +"Has he cut off your hair, Meg?" said Mr. Deane. The sight seemed to +distress, even to make him a little angry. "He had no business to do +that!" + +"He didn't," said Meg. "I cut it off myself long ago. Barnabas was sorry +when he noticed that it was gone." + +"Well, I'm glad he had the grace to be sorry. Don't go away." And he +fell asleep again, with his hand on hers. + +It was like a dream to be sitting in that softly carpeted room, with the +scent of roses in the air, and the companions of her girlhood round her. + +Laura came softly in presently, and sat down beside her. The sisters +looked at each other for a moment, not daring to speak, lest they should +wake him. Laura tried to smile a welcome; then her blue eyes filled with +unusual tears. + +"Meg, Meg! Is it you really? Will you vanish, if I kiss you? Is it safe +to try?" she asked under her breath. + +Meg leaned forward, without releasing her hand, and they kissed softly. + +"I shall stay--till the end," she whispered in return. + +So, very quietly and gently, Margaret Thorpe stole back to the place Meg +Deane had left; but knew, even while her heart was filled with +thankfulness, that, though the place might be the same, yet the girl who +had left it would return no more. + +Mr. Deane woke with a contented smile on his lips. "I dreamt of you, my +Meg," he said. And, from that moment, he seemed to have simply put aside +all that had happened since Meg had been his spoilt darling of long ago. + +His mind wandered to her nursery rather than to her girlish days--to +that very far away time, before Mrs. Russelthorpe's reign, when his +little girl had sat on his knee, and ruled him with sweet baby tyranny. + +Margaret tried once to recall his mind to the present; for her heart +ached for a few words that she might treasure--words spoken to her real +and womanly self; but the attempt distressed him, and she gave it up. + +She slept on the sofa in his room; for he became uneasy when she was out +of his sight; but the ebbing away of his life was quiet and gradual as +the ebb of a summer sea. + +Perhaps the faculty he had always possessed of forgetting troublesome +matters helped to make his last days happy. + +Apparently he utterly forgot the existence of the preacher. The grown-up +daughter had given him more pain than pleasure; but the baby girl had +been an unmixed joy. He loved to call her by the old pet names of her +childhood. Laura, who came every day, watched her sister wonderingly. +Once, when Meg playfully answered some allusion to an old family joke, +Laura felt a sudden longing to thrust aside the veil, to ask Meg about +all the strange experiences that were surely in the background, to beg +her to say whether the preacher was kind or cruel to her; but they both +refrained from bringing any subject into that chamber which was already +sanctified by the approach of the great healer. + +Mrs. Russelthorpe came in one day, and stood by the bedside. + +Mr. Deane turned his head away from her, as if her presence reminded him +of something he preferred to forget; then, apparently with some effort, +he recalled his thoughts. + +"You must make friends with your aunt, little Meg. We must bury old +grudges before--what is it?--before the sun goes down. It is going down +fast!" + +Meg held out her hand across the bed--for his sake she would have made +friends with any one; but Mrs. Russelthorpe shook her head. "There is no +need for us to go through that farce; for his thoughts have wandered +again." + +"Aunt Russelthorpe," said Meg, "let us both watch by him now; we both +care for him--there is room for us both." + +"No!" said her aunt. "There is room for only one of us two, Margaret; +and he has chosen. Let us have no pretences. Stay where you are. You +have won!" and Meg stayed. + +She used to read to him by the hour, because he loved the sound of her +voice, going on and on in the low monotonous key that soothed him. It +was doubtful whether he ever followed the sense of what she read, and, +as a matter of fact, Meg, though she would sit half the day with her +hand in his and her head bent over a book, would have been puzzled if +called on to give an account of what her tongue had been mechanically +repeating. + +The atmosphere was so peaceful that it seemed as if Time himself stood +still for a space with folded wings. "You are keeping so close to me, +little Meg," her father said once with a dreamy smile,--"so close, that +if you don't take care, when I go through the great gates, you will slip +in too by mistake." + +Meg pressed closer to him still; and yet, for all her clinging, she knew +that there was a life's experience, even now, between him and her. + +A thick velvet curtain, curiously embroidered in gold silks, hung across +the door. It shut out the whole of the outside world for five days. + +At the end of that time, Laura, pushing it aside, touched Meg's shoulder +as she sat in her usual place. + +"Your husband is outside," she said. "I passed him on my way in. He told +me to tell you that he should like a minute's sight of you, but that you +need not hurry--he could wait." + +Meg made a sign that she would come; and presently, taking a shawl from +Laura, slid gently out of the room, while her father's eyes were closed. + +She opened the front door and stood at the top of the steps, shivering a +little, though the evening was hot, for the flower-scented room upstairs +was hotter. + +A street musician was playing, and some children were shouting and +dancing. After the silence she had left behind that curtain, the merry +tune and the unsubdued voices sounded strangely loud and bold. + +"My lass," said the preacher. "Ye are lookin' liker a bit o' moonlight +than ever! Come down to me." + +And Meg, putting the shawl over her head, ran down, and stood beside him +on the pavement. They walked down the length of the square together. The +street player ceased playing for a moment to stare at the woman who had +stepped out of the front door of No. 35 to keep company with a working +man, and then the tune ground on again. + +"Barnabas," she said in a low voice, "I shall come to you the very +moment that--that he does not need me. I do not think Aunt Russelthorpe +would keep me a second." + +"And you'll not need to ask her!" said the preacher quickly. "Come to me +any time, lass; though ye'll find it a bit uncomfortable, I'm afear'd! +Still, we'll do somehow." + +He frowned, considering the possibilities of Giles' house, then turned +to her with a smile. "Do you feel as if ye'd stepped backwards a year or +so?" + +"No!" said Margaret. "There is no such thing as 'going back,' in +reality. Is that Laura making a sign to me? No! it is only the lace +curtain moving. He is still asleep, then. Tell me why you came, +Barnabas. Had you anything especial to say to me?" + +But her glance still rested anxiously on the window. + +"Ay, I had some'ut to tell ye," he answered; "though I had nigh +forgotten it in seeing ye. I've been a bit fashed about--ye'll be +surprised, Margaret--about Mr. Cohen. Do you know whereabouts he lives? +Happen, it was a delusion; but yet, I'd as lief be sartain that it's +_not_ him who is lyin' murdered i' the marshes." + +He paused; but Margaret was too much surprised to speak. + +"I'd ha' liked," he went on, more to himself than her, "I'd ha' liked to +ha' had it out betwixt him and me, in a fair fight wi' no quarter +asked--only I was sworn, and I'm glad I didn't. But that's one thing; +and to think o' him bein' struck down from behind, lyin' there alone for +days an' nights, helpless i' the sunlight an' the moonlight; cut off +wi'out the chance of givin' a free blow; that's different. Where does +he live? I must make my mind easy." + +Meg was thoroughly roused this time, even to a momentary forgetting of +that room upstairs. + +"Mr. Sauls murdered!" she said. "It can't be true. What makes you fancy +that? It is too horrible; it can't be true!" + +She looked at his troubled face anxiously. Had his violent feeling +against Mr. Sauls, and his equally strong remorse and efforts to subdue +it, given rise to a morbid imagination on the subject? She knew (she +understood the preacher better than of old) how violent both his hate +and his horror of himself for so hating could be. + +"Ay, it's horrible," he answered. "Margaret! when the lust for a man's +blood has been strong, and then one hears of a sudden that, mayhap, the +man's been killed, one feels as if one's own thought had gotten shape +and killed him!" + +There was a thrill in the preacher's voice that made Meg draw closer to +him. They had reached the end of the square, but she turned again. + +"Will you not tell me more?" she asked. + +He hesitated. "If I tell ye, do ye hold that I tell ye as countin' ye +one wi' mysel'? An' will 'ee feel bound, as I hold myself bound, to keep +it secret?" + +"Yes," said Meg. + +"Some one confessed to me that he'd killed a man as was walking alone +across the marshes, an' robbed him. And it came to my mind as it were +Mr. Sauls. There aren't many about us as are worth the robbing, an' very +few but labourers as takes that way to th' farm. The man as told me was +in a sort o' fever; I didn't think he was goin' to live, and no more did +he; he was terrible scared o' dying, or I fancy he'd never ha' let it +out. All one night he was very bad; then he quieted down an' slept, an' +awoke up a bit better, eatin' as if he'd been clemmed, but not takin' +notice o' what I said to him, nor seemingly understandin' a word. I +tried to persuade him to gi'e himsel' up to justice, but it seemed just +waste o' breath. I went down to get him some'ut more to eat, an' when I +came back he were gone! he must ha' got his clothes on and just slipped +through the window; happen, he understood a bit more nor I thought!" + +"Who is the man?" asked Meg, in a horrified whisper. + +"I'd as lief not tell ye that," said Barnabas; "for ye'd better not +know." + +"If--if it is true--what shall you do?" + +"Nothing!" he answered decidedly. "What is told i' that way must be as +safe as if it hadn't been breathed. I'd ha' tried to make the murderer +confess and be hung, for the savin' o' his soul; but I'd not tell on him +mysel', I'd sooner go to the gallows; an', mind, ye ha' sworn it shall +be th' same wi' you, Margaret." + +"Yes," she said; "it shall be the same with me--as if I were yourself." +She spoke solemnly, though little guessing all that that promise would +mean. + +"And after all," she added more lightly, for, indeed, this idea was too +startling to realise, "after all, Mr. Sauls is, probably, perfectly well +and comfortable. I cannot remember his address, but my sister may know +it. I will ask her for it, and send it down to you. Ah, she is waving +her hand to me at the window. Father must be awake." + +"I must e'en let ye go, I suppose," said Barnabas; "for, an' I hold ye, +your soul 'ull slip through my fingers, an' go an' watch by him all the +same. God be with ye, my dear!" + +He released her unwillingly, and Margaret ran back to her father. Mr. +Deane was wide awake and slightly flushed. + +"Meg! Meg! I dreamed I had lost you, that you had leaped over a +precipice," he cried. + +He was excited, and not quite himself. He recognised her on her return +to his room; but, as the day wore on, he became more feverish, and in +the evening he was delirious. + +All through the night he talked eagerly to his dead wife, evidently +believing her to be present; but in the small hours the fever left him, +and, in the collapse that followed it, he died. He died with Meg's hand +clasped in his, with his head on his sister's shoulder; but unconscious +of the presence of either of the women, each of whom had, in her way, +loved him better than all else in the world. + +Laura stood at the foot of the bed during the last terrible hour, with +her arm round Kate, who had come just in time. Kate kept turning her +beautiful head away,--she could hardly bear to see this death struggle. + +Margaret's eyes never moved from her father's face. When Mr. Deane's +head fell forward on his breast, the last sobbing breath drawn, the +awful involuntary fight for life over, Meg's expression relaxed, as if +she, too, were relieved. + +"It is over!" she said. + +Only when some one tried to unclasp the living hand from his she fell on +her knees with a smothered cry--after all, she had not gone with him. + +Laura led Kate away, crying bitterly; if Mr. Deane had been the best and +most dependable father on earth, instead of merely the most charmingly +affectionate when he happened to be at home, they would not have loved +him more, possibly they would have loved him less; for a woman's love +will fill up the measure wherein a man falls short of what he might have +been. + +Mrs. Russelthorpe closed his eyes--eyes that had looked their last on a +world which had generally treated him very well; then went to her room +with lips pressed closely together. + +Meg knelt on till the grey dawn crept in, and some one entering +disturbed her. + +"You can do no more for him now. Come away; indeed, Meg, you _must_ +come," said Laura. + +Laura looked pale, and even a little nervous. She dreaded Meg's grief, +remembering how "hard" the little sister, whom they had rather +neglected, had always taken everything. + +But this Meg was not the "little sister" of old; or rather, perhaps, her +identity was hidden under a new garb. + +She rose from her knees dry-eyed and composed. + +"I am going back to my husband," she said. "Father does not want me now, +as you say. Barnabas has been very good. He has waited all these days. I +should like to stay till after the funeral, but----" + +"Come home with me!" said Laura. + +She put her hand on her sister's arm and grasped her tightly. + +"Don't disappear, Meg! I don't want to lose you; you--you are so like +_him_," she whispered, with a glance at the bed, where that quiet figure +lay in the deep peace that neither grief nor love should ever move +again. + +"I promised Barnabas that I would not stay," said Margaret; but a quiver +passed over her face. Laura drew her gently out of the room and shut the +door. + +"I could not tell you in there," she said, with the sentiment that we +all have against talking of mundane matters in the chamber of death, +"but I have a message for you from your husband. I went down to give him +the address you asked me for yesterday, because I wished to speak to +him, to see for myself what sort of a man he is. While I was speaking to +him he"--Laura hesitated a second--"he was summoned away. He bid me tell +you that he may be absent several days, but that you were not to 'fash' +about him, but just bide quiet; if he were not here when the end came, I +told him I would take you back with me. He said you would know that he +would come for you so soon as ever he could." + +"Yes, I know," said Meg simply. "What was the call?" + +"He said he was called to a place where he could not have you by him." + +Laura coloured, wondering what the next question would be; but Meg was +apparently satisfied. + +The preacher's movements were apt to be erratic, and his decisions were +often arbitrary. The "call" might probably be to some abode of vice and +misery into which he shrank from taking her. + +"Are you sure you want me, Laura?" + +"Quite sure," said Laura emphatically. + +She put her arm round her sister while she spoke, and the two left the +house together. Barnabas Thorpe had been arrested on Mrs. Russelthorpe's +doorstep before Laura's eyes; but there was, she assured herself, no +need to tell Meg that, just now. + +If he were innocent he would be set free again, and would come to claim +his wife quite soon enough; if he were guilty--but no! oddly enough, +Laura found it simply impossible to believe him guilty. The big gaunt +man with the deeply furrowed face and the eager eyes, that had the look +of the enthusiast and potential martyr in them, had impressed her +curiously. Laura had felt no name too bad for the canting rascal who had +stolen Margaret; but the reality and intense personality of the preacher +had at least momentarily pierced through her prejudice. + +Barnabas Thorpe was no hypocrite; her womanly instinct spoke for him, +though her pride and reason were against him. The last-named qualities +woke up only when the spell of his presence was removed. + +"I am glad he has gone; after all, you belong to us, Meg," she said. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + + +While Mr. Deane's life was ebbing slowly away in Bryanston Square, +George Sauls was making a good fight for his at the farm. + +Tom Thorpe had found him on the afternoon of the preacher's departure, +the sun shining down pitilessly on the upturned face, the arms spread +wide. + +Lifting him up, Tom found the wound at the back of the head, made with a +bill-hook or hatchet. Whoever had done that, had also turned his victim +over to rifle the pockets; for a man hit from behind would naturally +fall on his face, and, moreover, the pockets were empty. + +"Dead as a door nail!" said Tom. He had remarkably good nerve, but this +was a ghastly discovery to come on, on a fine summer's day. + +Mr. Sauls was wet with dew; he must have lain there all night. A spider +had spun a thread across his chest; it glittered with diamond drops, +more numerous and less costly than those that had been stolen. Tom, in +lifting him, disturbed also a small brown bird, that had been debating +whether this gentleman was really dead--so dead that she might venture +to pick off that bit of white cotton hanging from the lining of his +pocket, and use it for her household purposes. She had been hopping +gradually nearer, but had had her suspicion that, for all his stillness, +he was not quite harmless yet; her instinct was keener than Tom's. + +Mr. Sauls suddenly opened his eyes and looked at Tom. + +"Not at all!" he said. "I'm not dead yet." And then he relapsed into +unconsciousness; and, for once in his life, Tom was startled. + +"I don't say but what it's queer to ha' one's foot knock up agin a +murdered man when one's mind's runnin' on naught but crops," he +explained afterwards; "but I ain't a maid wi' nerves; I didn't mind +that. It wur his eyes openin' and fixin' me, just as I wur thinkin' +there'd ha' to be an inquest, as did gi'e me a bit of a turn. Besides, +he'd no business to come to life; he had ought to ha' been killed wi' a +mark that deep at the bottom o' his skull." + +The doctor, when at last they got one, was of the same opinion; the +wound would have killed most men, he said; and why Mr. Sauls didn't die, +remained a mystery, except, of course, that he was treated with +exceptional skill. + +George clung to life with that tenacity which he showed in everything. +He was dangerously ill for a fortnight; then began to recover, to the +surprise of every one, except his mother, who had been quite hopeful all +along, and had replied cheerfully to an attempt to warn her of the +probable end. + +"Danger? My dear sir, it will be dangerous for the man who tried to +murder George! but, please God, my son will live to see that villain +hang." + +Mr. Sauls had been carried to the farm, that being the only house near. +Tom had bound up the patient's head as best he could, regretting that +the preacher's more practised and skilful fingers were not available. It +seemed barely possible that Mr. Sauls could live till further aid should +arrive. + +Mr. Thorpe rode into N---- and gave notice to the police of what had +occurred. He went also to the inn, and, assisted by the landlord, +searched for some clue as to the whereabouts of the unfortunate man's +relatives. They found a letter torn in half, and lying in the fireplace +of the room Mr. Sauls had slept in. Piecing it together, they made out +the signature:-- + + "Your affectionate old mother, + + "Rebecca Sauls." + +And the address: "20 Hill Street". + +Mr. Thorpe sat down and wrote a letter to Mrs. Sauls, acquainting her +with the evil chance that had befallen her son. Writing was not the +labour to him that it was to Barnabas, for he had been a scholar in his +day. The letter was clear and well expressed. + +"If you wish to come to the farm to nurse Mr. Sauls," he wrote as an +after-thought, "we shall be honoured in doing our best to make you +comfortable." + +It was kindly done, for he had a nervous dislike to strangers; but the +old fellow was too true a gentleman at heart to be anything but cordial +in the circumstances: and Mrs. Sauls accepted his invitation without a +moment's hesitation. She would have started off for the North Pole, if +George had happened to come to grief there! + +Tom was relieved when he saw her settled in the sick room, taking +possession with an air of assured capability. He would have done his +best for any man thrown on his mercy, and picked up wounded by the way; +but he was glad to be rid of the care of _this_ patient. + +"That chap hates us," he remarked. "Oh, ay--I know, dad; he could be +civil (leastways as a rule) because he wanted to come, and he ain't the +soart to let his temper play maister to his wants; but we're the last +he'll like bein' obligated to--more especial as I fancy he an' Barnabas +have had words." + +"What makes you think that?" said his father. + +"Long John told me that much," said Tom. "He overheard some'ut behind a +hay rick. I wur down on him for eavesdropping, an' I doan't know what +'twas about----Hallo! what are ye wantin'?" The last question was +addressed to a man who had come up behind the Thorpes. + +"I was sent up to make inquiries as to how soon the gentleman will be +fit to give evidence," said the stranger. + +He had been listening with all his ears, and it struck him that he had +collected a not unimportant fact himself. So Mr. Sauls and the preacher +had had words! + +Tom shrugged his shoulders; on the whole, it did not seem probable that +Mr. Sauls' evidence would ever be given on this side of the grave. At +present, he lay babbling the wildest nonsense, while the would-be +murderer was probably escaping comfortably. + +At last, however, there came a day when George woke up with recognition +in his eyes. His mother, who was sitting by him, trembled with pleasure +when she saw it. He looked ghastly enough with his sallow face swathed +in white bandages; but Rebecca Sauls had never heard any sound that so +nearly moved her to happy tears as the sound of her son's voice speaking +sensibly, albeit somewhat crossly again. + +"What _are_ you doing here, mother?" said he. "I suppose I've been ill; +but I'm sure there couldn't have been the least necessity for you to +come. What's been the matter with me?" He put his hand to his head and +tried hard to sit upright, but fell back. "H'm! I must have been rather +bad," he said. "Have I been falling from a five storey window? It feels +like it. I wish I could remember! I say, this isn't my room, and where +the deuce----" + +"You are in Caulderwell Farm," said his mother. "You have been very ill. +Mr. Tom Thorpe picked you up in the marsh, near what they call the +'Pixies' Pool'." + +"Well, go on," he said sharply. A horrible fear that he had lost his +memory came over him. + +"He brought you here because this was the only house near; and his +father wrote to me, thinking that you were dying--I told them they were +wrong, my dear. You are going to get well." + +She was afraid of exciting him; and yet, compelled by the intense +anxiety of his expression, and knowing her son, knew better than to +refuse to satisfy him. + +"What was the matter with me?" he asked. + +"The matter was a blow on the back of your head," she began. + +Then she paused, for George laughed with grim satisfaction. "Ah! I +remember," he said. "I remember now! mother, I was afraid----" + +He left the sentence unfinished, not caring to say what he had feared. + +"I remember," he repeated again; "he hit me from behind in the dusk. +Yes, and his brother thought I was done for, and I sat up and startled +him, and then it got dark again. Upon my word, the saints hit hard! But +he should have made quite sure while he was about it; dead men tell no +tales! I think I am alive enough to give him trouble yet! A half-killed +enemy is a dangerous thing, isn't it?" + +"My dear," said his mother, putting her wrinkled hand on his, "I hope +that whoever attempted to kill you may find that true; but you must get +well before anything. Don't let yourself get excited now, only just +tell me, who was it?" + +"Who? there was only one man within a mile of me!" said George. "It was +the preacher! I didn't see him, naturally, for I've no eyes behind; but +he must have run after me, and taken payment for old debts! He had had +provocation enough. I declare, if he'd given me warning and hit fairly, +I'd have cried 'quits'; but to cant about being 'sworn' and then to hit +in the dark----" + +"If there is any law in England they ought to hang him for it," said +Mrs. Sauls. "I cannot remember ever to have heard of so wicked and +shameful a crime!" + +And George smiled. "No?" he said. "And you've heard of a good many too! +Do you know I doubt whether the judge will see that the fact of its +being _I_ who suffered, so increases the crime as to render it blacker +than any other on the records! Judges are so dense. Why, mother, I +believe you are crying! I shouldn't have thought it of you!" + +"I don't know whatever makes me," she said, hastily drying her eyes. "It +was joy at hearing you laughing at me, like yourself, my boy, I suppose. +If you'd only heard the nonsense you've been chattering all day and +night, and the way you've been calling for some one!" + +"Have I?" he said uneasily. "For whom? for you?" + +The old woman met his glance with a look of such tenderness as +transfigured her harsh features. + +"No; men don't call for their mothers like _that_," she said. "It was +just a sick fancy, and I took care nobody but me heard--though I know +better than to take account of such things. Bless you! I've put it all +out of my head now. I have a bad memory for what's said in fever." + +"Ah," he said, "you're the wisest woman I know! There's no doubt from +whom I got my brains. When I'm Lord Chancellor, I'll own you gave me a +good many shoves uphill." + +He laughed, but there was a meaning under the joke. Mr. Sauls' vulgar +old mother had a large place in the heart which, as well as the brains, +he perhaps inherited from her. He pulled her towards him, and kissed +her. + +"Thanks!" he said. And Rebecca Sauls knew quite well that the thanks +were not so much for the "shoves uphill" as for the "bad memory". + +"I wish I could give you all you want, my son," she said sadly. + +If her own life's blood could have given him his heart's desire, he +should have had it, of course. + +He recovered tolerably steadily after that, bending his endeavours to +that end with a sort of dogged patience, obeying the doctor's orders, +and refusing to allow himself to get excited, because he was so +determined that he would get well. + +He was not a sweet-tempered invalid, like Mr. Deane. He had been strong +all his life, and it exasperated him to feel himself weak and dependent; +but his mother rejoiced rather than otherwise when George was cross: it +was a good sign, she thought, and better for him. + +Only on one point he insisted--whatever might be the risk of moving him, +he would not stay one day longer than was absolutely necessary under the +farm roof. + +Every one remonstrated, even Tom; who, though he had no great liking for +Mr. Sauls, felt it a slur on their hospitality that any guest should +leave them before he was fit to walk across a room. + +"If ye aren't comfortable, ma'am, I'm sorry," said Tom. "But doan't 'ee +let him go fro' this and die on the road! It ain't fair on us; and, +considerin' I picked your son up, ye might listen to me." + +"He wants to see you," said Mrs. Sauls, nodding her head with an +emphatic little gesture. She had tried to dissuade George from this +interview, but he would have it. "I am afraid I must ask you to go to +him, Mr. Thomas; but please remember that he is ill." + +Tom stared, and then laughed good-naturedly; the old lady spoke sharply, +but her hand was shaking as she stood holding up her silk gown in the +middle of the yard. + +"Are ye feared I'll talk too loud?" he said. "I know how to behave in a +sick room, ma'am. Dad and I tuk very good care o' him afore ye came. +I'll leave my boots in the kitchen, and tread as soft as I can." + +She followed him upstairs and stood outside the door. Tom wondered, half +amused, what she imagined he was likely to do to her precious son. Did +she fancy that he would quarrel with a sick man? why should he? He +supposed she distrusted him because he looked so queer. + +"Well, sir; are ye feelin' a bit better?" he asked as he entered. Mr. +Sauls was in an elaborate fur-trimmed dressing-gown (he had a strong +taste for personal luxury), and was sitting in an armchair that his +mother had sent to N----town for, and a screen was arranged to keep out +the draught. + +His face was thin, and so were the brown hands that lay on his knee; he +did not look fit to be out of bed. + +"Oh yes, I'm better," he said. "I've cheated the undertaker and mine +enemy this time!" + +"I'm glad o' that," said Tom heartily. "Do you know who your enemy is, +sir?" + +Mr. Sauls looked at him rather oddly. "I believe so." + +"Come!" said Tom cheerfully; "that's a good thing. Ye'll not gi'e him +the chance o' playin' that game twice, I should think. There's a +policeman downstairs wantin' to speak wi' ye, sir. I was goin' to let +him in, when Mrs. Sauls axed me to go up mysel' first. Do ye want for +aught? We'd liefer ye stayed wi' us till ye can be moved safely. Why, +th' country side 'ull cry shame on us if we let ye be jolted along that +road afore your wound's rightfully healed." + +"Ah," said George, "the country side will understand why I couldn't stay +under your roof, and why you won't want to keep me." + +The real kindliness of Tom Thorpe's hospitality made him flinch a little +from what he meant to say. + +"It's difficult to come to the point," he went on; "because I must own +that I am under a heavy obligation to you. Probably--no, certainly--I +should have died if you had not picked me up; and my mother and I have +been living in your father's house, and have received kindness at his +hands----" + +"Well?" said Tom. + +George Sauls sat upright, his thin face flushing slightly. + +"Well!" he said; "I can't prosecute your brother while I am eating your +father's bread and salt, and I won't insult you by thanking you for your +hospitality in the circumstances. As soon as I am outside your door, of +course I shall give my evidence. No doubt you will agree with me that +the sooner I go the better." + +He watched Tom narrowly while he spoke. He was prepared for a burst of +anger; "these hunchbacks generally have queer tempers," he thought; and +it is a ticklish business to tell a man who has taken you into his house +that you intend to bring an action against his brother for attempted +murder. + +"Do ye mean," said Tom slowly, "that ye are goin' to swear as Barnabas +tried to kill ye?" + +"I am going to swear that, to the best of my belief, he did," said +George. "I didn't, of course, see my assailant; I tried to force a +quarrel on your brother, and he refused to fight with me on religious +grounds." He shrugged his shoulders slightly. For a few seconds the +preacher had imposed even on him; he remembered he had half believed the +man honest; but, in his right mind, George felt that a fellow who +refused to fight "on religious grounds" was capable of any meanness; +and, possibly, as a rule he was right; only his pocket measure couldn't +gauge exceptions. + +"It would have been pleasanter," he continued, "to have left your house +without mentioning my intention of proceeding against your brother; but +I confess I have a prejudice in favour of fair play, and I owe you an +apology for having accepted your hospitality. I don't carry sentiment so +far as to refrain from prosecuting the preacher because you carried me +home; but I will certainly refuse to answer any questions while I am +under this roof. Probably the delay will give the culprit time to +escape; but----" + +"Look 'ee here," said Tom; and he spoke so quietly that Mrs. Sauls, +listening outside, afraid lest George in his weak state should be +injured, could not distinguish the words. "Look 'ee here. Ye are ill; so +I can't answer ye as I would like. Ye say Barnabas meant to murder ye, +an' left ye for dead. Keep your opinion; you're welcome; no one 'ull be +wishful to share it wi' ye, I'm thinking; but, when you come to +'probably,' _I_ know what he'd probably do, if he was here--an', by your +leave, I'll do it for him." + +He opened the door wide, and shouted down the stairs:-- + +"Ask the man from N----town to step up at once, Cousin Tremnell. Mr. +Sauls has important evidence to give, an' it won't keep!" + +Then he turned to that gentleman with a short laugh: + +"If ye mean to throw mud at Barnabas, do it an' welcome," said he. "It +doan't seem to me greatly to your credit, sir; an' I doan't fancy ye'll +find it stick. Ye needn't wait to be clear o' this roof; we're much +obliged, but (I'm speaking for Barnabas) we'd rayther ye _didn't_ +delay." + +"H'm," said George; "he is more fortunate than most prophets--his own +brother swears by him!" + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + + +Meg sat in the nursery in Laura's home, with Laura's child on her lap. + +The child had been ailing, but had finally fallen asleep with his head +on her shoulder. Margaret was fond of children, and little boys +especially generally took to her. + +This year-old baby, who was too young to regard her with wonder or pity, +was a comfort to her, and she felt most at ease in his society. Laura +was kind, but brimming over with unspoken questions; and Laura's husband +obviously patronised the "poor thing" who had made such a "shocking +mistake," and who must, he thought, be truly glad to find herself in +comfortable quarters again! + +She had made mistakes enough, to be sure! She had committed a most +terrible and fatal one in marrying for any reason but that which alone +sanctifies marriage; but, at least, she was not ashamed of her preacher. +Meg's soft grey eyes would brighten dangerously when this portly and +rather self-indulgent gentleman too evidently pitied her. What was he +that he should dare to despise Barnabas Thorpe? + +Nevertheless, her heart warmed to Laura. The tie of blood drew the +sisters together: they mourned the same father, at any rate; though, in +Meg's case, the mourning was tempered by deep thankfulness in having +been allowed to see him once more. + +Laura came into the room presently, and sat down on the low +rocking-chair by the fireplace, letting her busy hands be idle for once, +while she watched the sister who had the fascination of an enigma for +her. + +The semi-darkness, the cosy quietness of the nursery, thawed their +mutual reserve. + +"I expect that Barnabas will come for me to-morrow. I wonder what can +have kept him so long," said Meg. "I am glad that you persuaded me to +stay here with you, Laura. It is good for one to have a breathing space +to bury remembrances in. I don't think that I missed a word or look of +father's while I was with him, now I feel as if I could put that away. +One doesn't forget, but one must lay one's grief decently below the +surface; and you have given me time to do that." + +"I hate to think that you may be spirited away--and to I don't know what +hardships," cried Laura impetuously. + +But Meg shook her head. "I don't want to stay for ever! It is very +pretty and 'soft'; it has been pleasant to sit in easy chairs and tread +on velvety carpets, and, above all, to see you again; but I couldn't +bear to live this life now. Even as it is, I feel as if there were a +sort of disloyalty in the enjoyment of it. You must not fancy that I am +being dragged away against my will, when Barnabas fetches me. I believe +you imagine all sorts of horrors, Laura; but, indeed, I am telling you +the truth! The preacher is very good to me. I don't think there is +another man in the world who would have been so good." + +"He ought to be," said Laura; "seeing that you threw away everything +else for love of him." + +"Oh no, it was not for love!" cried Meg. "And he never supposed that it +was." + +"Then you were madder than I thought." Laura sat bolt upright to give +force to her emphatic whisper. She had grown stout and matronly since +the days when she had advised her sister to "marry any decently rich man +who would be good to her," and her views had ripened. "If people marry +for love, at least they have their cake, even though they may get +through it pretty soon, and go hungry when it's eaten. I've sometimes +thought that I hardly saw that side of the question enough when I was +young. I was terribly afraid of sentiment. But you, Meg--you, who of all +women I ever met were the most high-flown!--if you didn't love him, what +possessed you?" + +"It is an old story now," said Meg, colouring. "Let it be. Barnabas +understands about it. No one else ever will." She was silent for a few +minutes, thinking of that scene at Ravenshill which she had but half +understood at the time. "It is only afterwards that we know what we have +done! I wonder whether all things that have happened to us will be seen +by us in the right colours and the right proportion, as soon as we are +in the next world. Will they all seem to shift into different places, +like the bits of glass in a kaleidoscope?" + +"My dear," said Laura, with the twinkle that Meg remembered of old, "I +am distinctly of the earth, earthy. I don't know, and I don't much care, +about the next world; but I am curious about this one. I should like to +hear what happened to the Meg I used to know. Where did he take you? +Were you tolerably happy, or--or not?" + +"I was happy when he was preaching," said Meg. "What shall I tell you?" +She reflected a moment, and then began drawing word pictures of scenes +by the way--of the tramps they had talked to; of the gipsies over whose +fires they had sat; of meetings on heathery hills, and on village +commons. She dwelt rather on the lighter side of her experiences, and +her stories illustrated the gentler traits of the preacher's +character--his tenderness for very old people and young children, and +his hopefulness. She told how he had given a screw of tobacco to a dirty +old tramp incarcerated in a far-off northern gaol, and how, on the +beadle's rebuking him for his leniency, he had said: "She's ower ninety, +man! ower deaf to hear the preachin' o' goodwill; but the 'baccy 'ull +carry a bit o' th' message, an' she'll understan' that". + +And she laughed a little over the minor perplexities that had beset her +own path when she had struggled along by his side. + +"It is different now, for I am older, and have grown accustomed to so +much; but oh, Laura, I did not laugh then! So many funny things happened +to me, small troubles that I had never reckoned on. For example, my +boots wore out. I remember that we were walking along the bed of a +stream, and every stone I trod on hurt me. You don't know how they hurt, +when one's feet are blistered, and one's boots are in holes. It was only +six weeks since I had left Aunt Russelthorpe's house, and it seemed too +strange and unnatural to go to the preacher about that sort of thing. I +couldn't ask him for money. I thought it would be easier to walk +barefoot than to do that; and, after all, one can get through almost +anything if one determines that one will. So I limped on, and should +have reached the next village all right, if I hadn't trodden on a bit of +broken glass. I was unlucky that day; it went through the hole right +into my heel. I sat down on a stone and clenched my hands together; I +was so afraid of fainting, and the sharp pain made me feel sick. I can +see that valley now, with the purple heather and bracken glowing on each +side, and the big boulders, and the brown stream brawling in the middle +of it, and the preacher tramping steadily along, with his back to me. +Of course, he discovered, after a time, that I was not by him, and +turned back to look for me; and, just when he reached me, a round soft +sheep with curly horns and a broad face jumped up close behind my stone +and scuttled away up the hill. It startled me so that it shook the +tears, which I had been trying to keep back, down my cheeks, and I found +myself sobbing like a baby. Barnabas stood and stared at me; I had never +done that sort of thing before, and he was immensely surprised. Then he +said: 'You poor little soul, ye just doan't knaw what to do for +weariness'. And he sat down and consoled me as if I had been ten instead +of twenty-one; and cut my boot off with his pocket-knife, and took the +splinter of glass out; and finally picked me up and carried me into the +next village. From that day, he took only too much care of me; but he is +always tender to any one who is unhappy." + +Her thoughts had flown to another time when the difficulties of the life +she had chosen had pressed on her more heavily than during those first +experiences of physical discomfort. + +"He thinks," she said in a low voice, "that no mistake and no sin can be +so strong as God is. It is that belief which gives him power over those +who have fallen very low. Of course most people agree with him in +theory, but he is quite sure of it practically, which is different." + +"He has need of his hopefulness," said Laura drily. She had just made up +her mind to tell Meg of the arrest; but the nurse came in at that +moment, and she put off breaking the news a little longer. + +Meg gave up the baby reluctantly, and they went down into the lamp-lit +dining-room; Laura very full of thought. This fanatical preacher, with +his mania for "converting," with his pernicious views about the +intrinsic evil of wealth, had done plenty of harm, she considered; and +yet she allowed to herself that his influence was for good too. Margaret +was morally a stronger woman now than she had been in her variable and +emotional girlhood. Laura remarked also that, though no one could call +her sister "pretty" in these days, yet the distinction which she had +always possessed was hers still and in larger measure. Meg looked like a +queen in disguise in her shabby dress. Alas! alas! and it was all wasted +on a street "tuborator," who, at the best, was a mad enthusiast, and, at +the worst, a shameful rogue! + +Laura's meditations made her unusually silent. Mr. Ashford talked on +somewhat pompously, and pressed Meg to eat with rather patronising +warmth, for "it was not every day that Mrs. Thorpe got such a meal"; and +Meg herself did her best to rise to the occasion and converse pleasantly +with her host. + +The silver, and the cut glass, and the flowers pleased her eye; for +pretty things were to Margaret, as they had been to her father, very +sweet. She had spoken the truth when she had said she could not have +borne to live in luxury now; yet for a breathing space she enjoyed it. + +In nine cases out of ten it is the people with the keenest senses who +take to asceticism. He who has never been intoxicated by the scent of +flowers has never known the necessity of retiring into a wilderness. + +Dinner was half over when Laura saw Meg's colour change. "It is only the +man from the bonnet shop. It cannot be any one for you, Meg," she said +quickly. Indeed, she fancied that she had good reason to know that it +could not possibly be Barnabas Thorpe. Was he not in Newgate? + +"It is not Barnabas. It is--_Tom_!" cried Margaret. + +She rose hastily from her chair; and Laura, following the direction of +her eyes, saw Tom's queer deformed figure through the open door. He had +been standing in the hall; but when Margaret's exclamation reached him, +he walked into the dining-room, thinking she had meant to call him. + +To Laura this extraordinary person seemed a threatening embodiment from +that outside world which claimed her sister. To Mr. Ashford he was a +most impertinent intruder; but Meg made a quick step towards him. "Oh, +Tom, is anything wrong at the farm?" she asked. And then turning to +Laura: "This is my brother-in-law." + +"I should ask your pardon for disturbing you, ma'am," said Tom, looking +at Laura; "but I ha' need of a word with Barnabas' wife." + +The accent, and still more the decided way in which he stated what he +wanted, reminded Laura of the preacher. + +He spoke quite civilly, but the peremptoriness jarred on her. Tom Thorpe +was possessed by a sort of defiant repulsion, and glowered indignantly +on Margaret and her fine relatives. So she was here in this grand room +feasting and amusing herself? but she was "Barnabas' wife" all the same, +and he was in prison! + +"You shall have as many words as you like with me at once," said +Margaret. "May I take him into the library, Laura? Oh, I hope that +_your_ father is not ill?" + +Tom glanced at the bit of crape on her sleeve and answered, softened: +"No, no, lass. Naught o' that kind's happened. Dad's right enough. +There's naught but what ye must know already." + +"But she does not know!" Laura murmured faintly. + +Ten minutes later they heard Meg's visitor go. + +"Dear me! Your poor sister will hardly like to appear again to-night," +Mr. Ashford said compassionately. "She must be terribly ashamed of her +scamp of a husband, though that kind of thing is what she must expect +after having----Oh, here she is!" + +Margaret's head was very erect, and there was a bright spot of colour on +each cheek. + +"My brother-in-law has been telling me that my husband has been arrested +on Mr. Sauls' charge, and taken to gaol," she said. And there was a +prouder ring than usual in her generally low voice. "Mr. Sauls' brain +must have suffered! I am sorry for him." + +"You are angry with him, you mean!" remarked Laura. + +"No," said Mrs. Thorpe. "Any one who is so mad as to think it possible +that Barnabas could have done such a thing is not worth being angry +with. He knows no better, I suppose, poor thing!" + +Laura looked at her husband with a momentary gleam of fun. + +"I must get a room close to Newgate, so that I can go in and out as +often as I am allowed," continued Meg. "Tom is going to take me to the +prison to-morrow. Will you excuse me if I go and put my things together +now?" + +Laura laughed, albeit a little sadly, when the door closed behind her. + +"It has been a queer story from first to last," she said. "But do you +think, after that, that she is ashamed of him?" + +"She doesn't care much for him," said Mr. Ashford. "If she did, she +would be more anxious." + +An hour later Margaret had finished packing her clothes into a small +bundle, and stood considering a leathern box she held in her hands: +should she take it with her or not? + +She opened it with the reverent touch a woman gives to relics. There was +the pearl ring that her mother, another Margaret, had worn; Laura's +first baby socks tenderly treasured; and an unfinished silk purse that +had been in process of making when death took that, as well as all other +tasks, from the pretty hands that had been so prone to give. + +There also was a faded bundle of letters tied with ribbon. The last that +Meg unfolded had been penned two days before the writer's death. No one +had imagined that she was in any danger; but there was an undercurrent +of foreboding, sounding through the overflowing tender happiness which +the letter expressed, a foreboding which, as Meg remembered to have +heard, had wakened Mr. Deane's anxiety and brought him home just in +time. + +"Indeed, sweetheart, an' I were to die to-morrow, I should want you only +to remember that no woman was ever happier than I have been, and I think +none other was ever so happy, seeing that none other was your wife. I +long to make up to those not so fortunate as I; but I cannot. I would +pray for a long life, only not beyond yours; but if it is not given me" +(again that iteration of warning, mingling with her passionate +satisfaction in her married life), "I shall yet have been more blessed +than any other woman. It will have been worth while to have lived only +to have loved you--and----" + +Meg put the letter down--surely this was too sacred for any eyes but his +to whom it was written; a shame came over her that she had read so much. + +Some one else had once said to her: "It is worth while". This dead +voice, that was yet so instinct with life, now, after all these years, +reiterated it. + +She gave Laura the box the next morning, before she left. + +"It wouldn't be safe to carry jewels with me to the part of London I am +going to," she explained. "Will you take care of them for me? They are +best left behind." + +She turned the key in the lock, and put the box in Laura's hands. + +"There are letters there too," she said. "They are so alive, that, I +suppose, father could not bear to burn them. I began to read one; but I +did not finish it--I felt as if I oughtn't to." + +"Ought not? Why, he left them to you especially!" said Laura. "Who has a +better right?" + +"I felt as if _I_ had no right to them," said Meg. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + + Even more than knowledge, pain is power. + + --_Illingworth._ + + And on his brest a bloudie crosse he bore, + The deare remembrance of his dying Lord + For whose sweete sake that glorious badge he wore, + And dead as living ever Him ador'd. + + --_Spenser._ + + +It was on a close breathless day in September that Meg first saw +Newgate. + +Nearly fifty years have wrought many changes for the better (as well as +some few for the worse) in London. + +The Holborn Tom and Meg Thorpe walked down was more unsavoury, noisier, +and far less regulated as to traffic than the Holborn of to-day. + +The immense flow of people, the street cries, the jostling and bustling, +were new to Meg; for, though she had lived in London half her life, she +had never seen this side of it before. + +All at once she understood how it had impressed Barnabas. + +"He thinks London so terrible, and overpowering!" she said. "And I never +knew what he meant! Now, I see----" + +"Mind where ye are walkin'," said Tom. "Good Lord! If either o' ye had +had one quarter o' a grain o' common-sense, ye'd ha' kept clear of a +place where there's a many too many without ye, an' not room to hear +one's own voice in! There! that's where he is!" + +And Meg looked up at the gateway of the great prison, "the worst managed +prison in England,"[1] where the scum and refuse of that human tide +flowed constantly, and where, evil being most rampant, that cross that +was originally raised between outragers of the public safety, was being +raised again now by the hand of the Quaker lady, whom many yet unborn +should call "blessed". + +[Footnote 1: See Report of 1850, made three years later, and just before +the erection of the new prison at Holloway.] + +They passed under the fortress-like entrance, which Meg was to know +well, in rain and snow, as well as in the autumn sunshine, which first +softened its gloom to her, and stood among the crowd of prisoners' +friends, who, on the whole, were a much more cheerful, not to say jovial +set, than might have been expected. + +The gatekeeper was exchanging jokes and winks with a noisy band of +unbonneted girls, who were linked together arm in arm, and had "pals" +inside. + +Meg's soft heart warmed to one of them, who looked little more than a +child, and who demanded permission to see her husband, Bill Jenkins, +convicted of shop-lifting, and under sentence of death. + +"I hope he will be reprieved," Meg said aloud. "She looks so very young +to have a husband," she added apologetically to Tom, who was not +over-pleased at her speaking to the girl. + +There was a shout of laughter when some one who had overheard it +repeated the remark. + +"Bless your innocence, we've _all_ got 'usbands, my dear," said one of +the band. But it was not till later that the preacher's wife understood +the meaning of their merriment. + +The convicted were supposed to see only their wives, and that but once a +week. "So I've never known a single man among 'em," the gatekeeper +remarked with a grin. "Even the boys is all married,--every one on 'em!" + +Meg could hardly have told what she had expected to encounter;--long +stone passages, and a miserable cell, and Barnabas in heavy irons, and +darkness, perhaps! She had been prepared to cheer and encourage him; but +this noisy crew she was not prepared for, and her heart sank when she +found that she was not admitted into the interior of the building; but +could only take her place with the others on one side of a double row of +iron railings, which interposed grimly between the prisoners and their +friends. + +Her strongest earliest impressions of a place she was to become familiar +with during three long months were beer and bad language. The smell of +the former assailed her nostrils; the sound of the latter, her ears; the +place seemed reeking with both combined. She looked rather wistfully at +the vendor of beer, who, coming straight from the public-house, +fortunate enough to have secured Newgate's patronage, was greeted with +acclamations, and allowed instant entrance to the wards. + +"Eh, my lass, how are ye?" said the well-known voice, whose very +familiarity sounded strange behind those bars. Margaret pressed her face +against the iron, she was not able to reach him--the space between was +too wide for that. + +Prison uniform had not been instituted then, and the preacher was still +in his blue jersey, which, however, showed a good many rents,--a fact +which struck Meg at once; for Barnabas kept his clothes carefully mended +as a rule. He looked ill, too, and his hair and beard were untrimmed; +but his hands were unshackled, which was something of a relief to her. + +He devoured her with his eyes hungrily, and asked question after +question as to how she was, and how she had been, with an eagerness and +insistence that left her little time to question _him_. + +"I wish I could see ye better!" he cried impatiently. "Turn your head to +the light, Margaret. I can't half see you in that thing!" + +The straight side of her straw bonnet threw her face into shade, and she +untied the strings, meaning to take it off to please him, remembering, +with a slight tightening of the throat, how her father had proffered the +same request; but Barnabas stopped her hastily. + +"No, no. Not here!" he said. "Ye can't uncover your head for all those +fellows to see. Ye hadn't ought to be here at all, wi' me not free to +take care of ye. Where's Tom?" + +"He is waiting for me, in the outer yard," said Meg. "Oh, Barnabas, I +_ought_ to have been here before; but I never heard till last night; +indeed, if I had known, I would have come." + +"I wasn't blamin' ye," he answered. "But look 'ee here, my lass; time's +nearly up, and I've a deal to say that'll hardly get said now. I'm +thinking this must be my last sight of ye till I'm free, or till----" + +"There is no 'or,'" said Meg cheerfully. "Of course, they must set you +free." + +But she clung tighter to the rails; her knees felt weak with the long +walk. + +The preacher, looking at her, checked the reply that had almost risen to +his lips. + +"Till I am free then," he said. "But it's no place for you. Will 'ee go +home wi' Tom? they'll be glad enough to have ye; or, if ye'd rayther, +ye can stay wi' your sister. It's as ye like." + +Then, with a sudden burst of longing, that seemed to cut through the +heavy atmosphere, making Meg's heart give a bound; "To think that _I_ +can't give ye a roof!" he cried. "It warn't i' the bond that ye should +follow me to Newgate! Ye must forgi'e me this, Margaret!" + +Meg lifted her head and looked straight at him. + +"I'm not going back to Laura," she said. "What should I do there? Nor to +the farm; what business has your wife in L----shire, when you are here? +Father has left me some money; it will be just enough to keep us +together. I will take a room close to the prison, and come as often as +they will let me. There is a great deal to talk of; there is your +defence to be considered; there is a great deal to be done; and you have +told me nothing yet. I will live on very little--as little as possible; +we shall want every penny, but----" + +He shook his head, and her voice changed from would-be cheerful +assurance to entreaty. + +"But let me stay!" she cried. "You will find it worth while. No one will +work so hard for you as I will. If _I_ were in prison should you go +comfortably away with Tom to the farm? It is absurd to ask! You don't +need to answer; for, of course, you wouldn't. Don't you want to see me? +I could come three times a week; on all the visiting days--don't you +think that would be something?" + +"Something!" said the preacher. He put his hand before his eyes to hide +the sight of her, who, he knew, was only too precious to him. + +"The look of ye is more nor meat or drink to me," he said. "An' ye know +it! An' it's just because o' that that there's no reason in comparing +what I'd do wi' what I'd have ye do. Go back wi' Tom, lass. Ay, I knew +ye'd be willin' to bide; I knew ye'd offer to; but I couldn't bear to +see ye standin' here day after day, nor to think o' ye alone in this +hell of a city. I'll do well enough, an' I won't forget ye begged to +stop. Just say 'good-bye' to me, my dear, an' go. Go, my lass!" + +Her hands dropped from the bars and she turned away. She was in the +habit of obeying him, and his stronger will nearly always overpowered +hers; but, as she turned she looked back, and, though she did not +understand how or why, something in his weary attitude made her return +quickly, with a little low cry that brought him close to the bars again. + +"I want to stay," she said. "Barnabas, don't you see that I want to? You +think I am saying this because I ought--for your sake. It is for my own. +Ah, don't send me away; I _want_ to stay." + +He stood a moment silent; then: "Stay then," he said; "and God keep ye +safe. Happen, after all, He knows how to as well as I do." + +There was no time for more; she had to go, but the preacher drew a deep +breath, as one amazed; the bolts and bars that divided them had also +brought Margaret nearer to him. He had had need of some consolation. + +The Gaol Acts laid down many most excellent rules, which the governors +of Newgate seemed to consider were, like dreams, "to be read by +contraries". Barnabas had found himself flung into an assembly where +tried and untried--the boy accused of stealing a loaf, and the hardened +old vagabond in for the tenth time--were all mixed up together, making a +fine forcing bed for crime. + +In the pursuit of his calling the preacher had been oftenest and most +deeply attracted to places where evil was most prevalent; but it was one +thing to attack the foul fiend of his own free will (and it must be +owned Barnabas was seldom backward at assault), and another to be +allowed no escape from the unclean presence by day or by night; no +breathing space alone, even for a moment. + +The unbearable sense of eyes always on him, the longing for fresh air, +and, still more, for solitude, if only for five minutes, grew with a +force that took all his strength to keep in bounds. + +There had always been something gipsy-like in his restless impatience of +walls and roofs. As a boy he had many a time crept out in order to sleep +by preference with nothing between him and the sky. He held his very +thoughts in check now, and durst not let them dwell on downs or sea, +lest a mad passion for these should seize on him; but he ate with +difficulty, forcing himself to swallow, loathing food, like some wild +animal held in captivity; and sleep forsook him. + +It was not till he had been in the gaol for a week that he began to +discover a method in the madness of the prison arrangements; and the +method roused him to protest so vigorous and unpopular as nearly to cost +him his life. + +To run atilt against established privileges, to refuse to let sleeping +dogs lie, had always been main characteristics of the preacher; they +never came out more strongly than in Newgate. + +There are disadvantages in preaching righteousness while under +accusation of attempted murder, and in attempting to right other +people's grievances while a prisoner oneself; but such considerations +never weighed with Barnabas. Where he saw his enemy, there he would "go" +for him, whatever the situation might be. + +On the women's side of the prison, Elizabeth Fry was already bringing +order into disorder, light into the midst of darkness; but, on the +men's side, misrule still ruled supreme. + +The old prisoners levied a kind of blackmail on the others; they sold +food, they winked at evil practices, they passed in tobacco and snuff, +and, as wardsmen, their power was despotic. + +In their hands was the placing of new arrivals, in their hands the +drawing of briefs; they, practically, could feed or starve, bind or +unbind; and one of the first things Barnabas did was to protest against +the orders of a wardsman! + +To do him justice, the preacher, though he had lamentably small sense of +the expedient, was not naturally quarrelsome, and had rubbed shoulders +against too many strange bedfellows to be over fastidious. + +The crowded room in which the men slept together anyhow, under filthy +mats on the floor, shocked him much less than it would shock any +respectable member of society now-a-days. He relinquished his share of +the rug, a third share; and stretched himself on the floor, as near to +the window as he could get. + +Everything was dirty; the men, the floor, and, not least, the +conversation! Barnabas was glad that there was no glass in the windows, +though not much fresh air seemed to make its way in anyhow. He had a +great capability for abstracting himself from what was going on around +him, and had been in bad places before,--though none, he was constrained +to allow to himself, quite so bad as this. But when the key turned in +the lock, shutting in for the night all these offscourings of the London +streets; then, indeed, began a scene of mad drunken riot, of iniquity +and cruelty, that pierced through his abstraction and forced him to +attend. + +He sat up in his corner, looking on with eyes that grew eager with +desire to lift his testimony against the gambling and drinking and +blasphemy that seemed to challenge him; but even he hesitated. + +He was disheartened and sickened; he felt his faith low, his power to +speak wanting. A sense of the certainty of failure, for once, deterred +him; the strong impulse that carried other hearts was not present +(possibly because he was physically tired, though this was a reason +which would never have occurred to him), and he held his peace. + +Of fear, in the sense of dread of personal harm to himself, he had +little by nature and less by practice; but a deep moral depression and +humility that underlay his boldness, and was less paradoxical than it at +first seemed, sometimes closed his lips. + +When the "spirit moved him," he would speak, nothing doubting; but, at +times, he would sit in mental sackcloth, with no consciousness of Divine +inspiration. + +In the daytime, want of employment further depressed him; he had been +accustomed all his life to hard exercise; and the comparative +confinement of his London life had begun to tell on his health and +spirits, even before his imprisonment. He would have been thankful for +any form of labour,--a desire which certainly was not common among his +companions. Not that the wards were devoid of amusement; papers and even +books circulated freely, the last of a kind that increased the +preacher's bigoted distaste for "book larning," and that he was, +perhaps, justified in stigmatising as inventions of the devil! Tobacco +and cards were also plentiful; gaming went on without intermission from +morning till night, and of feasting and fighting there was plenty. + +Barnabas would probably have come in for rough usage, even without any +aggressive act on his part, had it not been for his size and strength, +that made him so obviously an awkward subject to bully. + +The bronzed, fair-bearded man, standing in his corner, "glowering" at a +scene that, certainly, was brutal enough, had an expression in his blue +eyes that looked as if he might be dangerous. + +Possibly he was going mad! There was a large proportion of real lunatics +in Newgate, and there were some sham ones, who feigned madness as the +time of their trial approached; and their presence added to the insanely +reckless character of the revels. + +During the whole of the first week in prison, Barnabas had stood apart, +silent and grave. + +He was anxious about his wife; he was cast down by spiritual depression; +and the sense that he was "forsaken of the Lord" was strong on him. +Moreover,--and this was a thing that had rarely occurred to him,--he was +tormented by uncertainty. It was against his instinct and principle to +betray a confession; he would rather be hanged himself, as he had said +to Margaret, than do that;--but yet, to leave the murderer free to +commit any fresh crime that might be suggested to his depraved nature +might lead to consequences from which even Barnabas, who seldom looked +at consequences, shrank. All these causes, combined with the close +atmosphere and want of sleep, weighed on him; he felt as if unable to +pray, or to command his thoughts; he was "delivered over to Satan". + +It was Margaret's visit that broke the spell. The sight of her, stirring +his heart with most human love, roused him, and chased away the +spiritual melancholy which was overpowering him. He became ashamed of +his downheartedness. + +He should stand at her side free again, and the sound of her last words +nurtured a hope that he had often found it best not to dwell on +overmuch,--would grim Newgate give him his wife's heart? + +Shame on him for his cowardly depression! He deserved no favours, +heavenly or earthly; but he would be depressed no longer. He went back +to the yard after Margaret's visit with fresh spirit. Some of the +prisoners had made a circle round a new-comer, a fair-haired lad of +fifteen, who had the too girlish and refined "prettiness" that some +fair-skinned boys retain so long, and who looked younger than he was. + +The chaff and rough horse-play they were indulging in hardly amounted to +actual ill-usage; but the boy looked frightened to death. He was singing +in a high sweet treble, forced thereto by divers threats. + +He evidently did not know the words of the song, for one of his +self-constituted teachers kept prompting him, amid roars of laughter. It +was a villainous song, and Barnabas hoped the lad didn't understand it. +He had been brought in the day before, protesting his innocence in eager +childish fashion,--as if it mattered to any one there whether he was +innocent or not! At any rate, if he was when he entered, he hadn't much +chance of being so when he should leave. Barnabas looked on in disgust +for a few minutes, and then turned to a wardsman. + +"Surely," he said, "that lad hadn't ought to be here?" + +The middle yard in which they stood was supposed to be occupied by the +most abandoned and worst class of criminals, men charged with the most +revolting crimes; but the wardsmen of Newgate were apparently apt to +consider the incorrigible offence, the offence of poverty (indeed, it is +hard of cure) and an inability to pay ward dues, ranked the offender +with the most depraved. + +"Oh! you're the Lord Chief Justice in disguise, perhaps!" said the man. +"Or his grace the Archbishop!" + +"If I was the judge," said the preacher, "I'd far sooner ha' had that +boy strung up to the nearest lamp post, guilty or no', than ha' +pitchforked him in here, to ruin his body an' soul both! It 'ud ha' been +a deal more merciful." + +"Such a 'ighly moral cove as you 'ad better interfere," said the man. +"The parson don't come in 'ere at present; he give up comin' after +Hopping Jack took to assistin' him in 'is duties." + +The speaker laughed silently over some hidden joke. + +"He comes in just afore the 'angman now to the men as is fixed for +'anging, a sort of last grace before meat," he said. "They ain't so +larky then." + +Barnabas had not attended to the last remark; something he had heard or +seen made his hand clench; and he turned on the wardsman hotly. + +"Can ye do nothing, man?" he said. "_You_ put that child here, because +he couldn't pay th' ward dues (which be unlawful extortion anyway); he's +only up for a matter o' stealin'; it 'ull lay at your door if those +brutes make him----" + +The rest of the sentence remained unfinished. Before he had got to the +end of it, Barnabas had felt the appeal useless: the wardsman was +momentarily staggered by the unprecedented and unbounded impudence of +this new-comer; but, before he had even fully fathomed the whole extent +of it, the preacher sprang into the middle of the ring, and stood by the +boy's side. + +There was a moment's absolute silence. Then Barnabas Thorpe's ringing +voice pealed through the yard in a vigorous denunciation; he took the +throng of reprobates so by surprise that he got through a whole sentence +unmolested. + +The motley crowd all stood and gaped; the boy clung to his arm. + +Some men who were playing at leapfrog stopped, and stared; the dice fell +from Hopping Jack's hand. If a thunder-clap, louder than usual, had +broken out just over their heads, it would have produced just that +effect, stunning and startling them. Then, with a howl of mingled +laughter and anger, they all fell on the preacher at once; and the +wardsman laughed silently again. + +Barnabas fought desperately, first for the boy's sake, then in sheer +self-defence; for his blows had enraged and roused the wild beast in +these men. It was no joke now; they meant to punish him. + +He set his teeth hard, and held his own for a short minute; but one to +sixty is too heavy odds, and the righteous cause that triumphs in the +end has a way of triumphing only through the blood of its upholders. He +was down first on his knees, then on his face, then they all closed over +him; he had not even taken the precaution to put his back against the +yard wall, and his assailants were on all sides. He was down, and to +kick a man on the ground was excellent sport, and this man had certainly +brought it on himself. The wardsman usually interfered before things +came to quite such a pass; but, on this occasion, he discreetly retired; +the preacher had needed a lesson, and no one was in the least inclined +to forbear. + + * * * * * + +The surgeon's report mentioned that one of the prisoners had had his +ribs broken, but no further official notice was taken of this little +episode; and the prisoner himself was rather surprised when he woke to +consciousness (a highly disagreeable experience!), and found himself +still alive, and lying in a corner of the ward, albeit without a square +inch free from bruises, and with an odd sensation of having been kicked +inside as well as out, making breathing a matter of pain. + +He tried to sit upright, but the effort hurt him, turning him dizzy and +sick; and he desisted. + +"He's been shamefully mauled," some one was saying. "His own mother +wouldn't know him. Done in a drunken brawl, I suppose? That's the second +case from the middle yard within a fortnight. I should think you've +about had your fill of fighting, eh? How do you feel?" + +"Oncommon sore," said Barnabas; "but what became of th' lad?" + +"He'll fare the worse for your interference," said the surgeon. "Keep +still, or I can't fasten this bandage. Well, you've tried football from +the ball's point of view. There's no accounting for tastes! Bless me, +there's more bruise than whole skin about you; one might as well patch a +stocking that's all holes!" + +His fingers were not gentler than his words, but it was the latter that +had made Barnabas wince. "What are they doin' wi' that boy? He's not a +lad o' much spirit--I could see that; he'll be like wax in their hands, +if some one don't interfere." + +"They'll make it a point of honour to corrupt him as fast as possible +now; you've gained that by interfering," said the surgeon. "But then the +same result would have been reached in any case, sooner or later. If he +wasn't a young blackguard when he came in, which I doubt, he'll take +his degree in iniquity before the Assizes. It's no good struggling to +get up, you can't! And what the devil are you in such a hurry for? You'd +better digest the lesson they've given you." + +The surgeon had no sympathy for Methodist preachers; the canting +criminal, to which class he supposed Barnabas belonged, was the kind he +liked least. + +He had a cold tolerance for black sheep in general; "they were born bad, +as was clearly proved by the shape of their skulls," he would remark; +and, while he was a great advocate for hanging them for the sake of +society, he neither regarded them with moral indignation, nor +sympathised with the illogical efforts of philanthropists. + +"You'll find it enough to occupy you," he added drily. He was struck, in +spite of himself, at the way this man stood pain. "You'll feel that +kicking worse in an hour. I must say it seems to have taken a good +amount of beating to beat you!" + +"I'd not say--I was beat--while I was alive," said Barnabas in gasps, +for speaking was painful. "Ay, it's a lesson to me--I've been a bit too +backward--ta'en up wi' my own affairs!--I desarved to fail--but I'll try +again--so soon as I can stand. Beaten! I'm _not_ beaten!" + + * * * * * + +Barnabas lay in his corner for three days and nights. He ought to have +been put into the infirmary, but the infirmary was just then given up to +certain political prisoners,--gentlemen who were decidedly out of place +in Newgate, but who were made as comfortable as circumstances and the +easy politeness of the governor allowed. + +No one paid much heed to the preacher. It was a toss up whether he +lived or died; but his hardy constitution, and, perhaps, his innate +obstinacy, pulled him through. On the fourth day after the surgeon's +visit he sat upright, on the fifth he struggled to his feet. The fifth +day happened to be a Sunday, which, by a time-honoured custom, was a day +set apart and sacred to free fights in the middle yard. Barnabas +steadied himself, with one hand against the wall, and looked around him. +He did not remember ever before to have felt physically weak. The +sensation struck him as very curious. + +"You'll not be trying that game again," remarked his enemy, the +wardsman. + +Barnabas Thorpe was a gaunt and ghastly sight, standing on his straw +with the blood-stained bandage across his forehead. His face was +whitened by confinement, and lined and hollowed by pain; but the sneer +brought the light of battle into his blue eyes. + +"Will I not?" he said grimly. "Wait an' see, man! This time we play to +win." + +"We? Who's fool enough to be on your side?" asked the man. + +"I am on His," said Barnabas. "He leads!" He made his way along the ward +while he spoke, stumbling more than once, panting from sheer weakness; +and the wardsman followed, grinning. + +All the men were out in the yard. Two of them were fighting, the rest +were applauding. The preacher walked through the ring, and put his hands +on the combatants' shoulders. + +"Ye'll do that no more," he said. "It is my Master's day, an' He is here +among us; an' to Him shall be the power an' th' glory." + +He was so exhausted by the walk that he involuntarily leaned heavily on +the man whose arm he had touched, and who stood and gaped, with +awe-struck face. + +In his full strength and vigour the preacher had failed--in his weakness +he conquered. + +So long as man is man, he must perforce bow down before the spark of +Divinity that makes him human--when he sees it. + +These gaol birds and outcasts "saw it" that day; saw it in the courage +that had nothing to do with the animal and physical side of our nature; +"saw it" in the command given by one whom they had trampled on, and +well-nigh killed, who, knowing what he risked, yet risked it again, +counting death no defeat. + +"Let 'im be. You can't hurt such as 'im," one of the men whispered. +"He's got them standin' by him." + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + + +Mr. Sauls returned to town, looking a great deal the worse for his +expedition into the wilds of L----shire. + +Had he followed his natural inclination, he would have held his tongue +on the subject of the sensational episode that had led to the preacher's +arrest; but, seeing that the tale must become public property, he took +the initiative himself, spreading the version he wished to be popular. + +Mr. Sauls' deserved success in life had always been largely owing to the +fact that he never hesitated to throw a sprat overboard in order to +catch a mackerel. Many people see all the advantages of this proceeding +clearly enough, but haven't courage to sacrifice the sprat; he had. + +He was determined on two points, apparently a little difficult of +combination: he was determined to punish his assailant, and, at the same +time, to keep Margaret's name out of the affair. He would rather lose +his case than drag her into it--which was saying a great deal. + +He would have preferred, for obvious reasons, that the story about Lydia +Tremnell should remain in merciful obscurity; but, nevertheless, he +brought it to the light of day without flinching; for he knew that, in +laying the stress on that quarrel about the woman who was dead, he +prevented the suspicion that the hot words between himself and Barnabas +Thorpe had had connection with the woman who was alive. + +It cost him some vexation of spirit; but, for Meg's sake, he threw the +sprat, and threw it boldly. + +Mr. Sauls had fallen low in Meg's estimation. She would have been either +more or less than human if she could have, at the same time, sided with +the preacher, and seen the standpoint of the preacher's enemy. And yet, +if "a man's love" is indeed "the measure of his fitness for good company +here or elsewhere," Mr. Sauls was, perhaps, worthy of a better place +than she guessed. + +He had been lunching with the governor of the prison one morning, and +had left that gentleman's house with a bad headache (for he still felt +the effects of the blow), and in no very excellent humour. + +For the last month he had been endeavouring to put the image of the +preacher's wife out of his head; and few things are more trying to both +nerves and temper than the constant struggle to prevent a recurring +thought. The disembodied presence haunts the more when we abstain from +clothing it with words, and it usually has its revenge. George "forgot" +Mrs. Thorpe by a most constant and unrelaxing effort. + +He pulled some papers out of his pocket, meaning to read them while he +walked; he could have sworn he was deeply engrossed in them, and that he +was thinking of anything rather than of Margaret; and yet, among the +thousand voices of that busy street, curiously enough hers reached his +ear. + +He had walked only two yards from the door of the governor's house. He +hesitated for a second, turned round, and retraced his steps. Margaret +was on the threshold, talking to the governor's servant. + +"Did that brute keep her hanging about the prison? If so, he deserved a +worse fate than the gallows," thought George. + +"You should have gone round to the back. What business have you here?" +said the footman. George could not catch her reply, but her manner had +apparently overawed the man, who was evidently wavering between +insolence and respect. + +"Oh, if your business is with the governor--I'll take your card in and +inquire--ma'am." + +The "ma'am" was said rather doubtfully, Meg's clothes being shabby. + +"I've no card," said she. "Please tell the governor that I should be +much obliged if he would kindly see me. I am the wife of one of the +prisoners in the middle yard, and----" + +"Oh, off with you!" cried the footman, his respect vanishing. "The +governor would have enough to do if he saw every blackguard's wife that +came a-begging!" And he slammed the door in her face. + +Margaret put her hand on the bell as if half inclined to make another +attempt; then apparently came to the conclusion that it would be of no +avail, and, with a sigh, turned away. + +She saw Mr. Sauls when she descended the steps, and would have passed +him without a sign, had he not been assailed by a dogged unreasonable +determination to force her to recognise him. + +"You know me, Mrs. Thorpe," he said. His voice sounded a little defiant. + +Meg's eyes rested coldly on him. "I know you," she answered gravely. + +George reddened. It was the first and last time in his life that a snub +had made him blush. + +"But you are too angry to acknowledge me? Well! of course, that is +natural," he said. "Naturally you cannot forgive me for being knocked on +the head by the preacher. I hardly supposed that you would. A woman's +justice is apt to be hard on the sinned against--when the sinner is her +husband. But I--not being a woman--do not quite relish seeing you +refused anything. I'll help you, if I can. The governor is a friend of +mine; I will get you admittance if you like." + +"No, thank you," said Margaret. George laughed rather bitterly. + +"Are you too proud to accept my help? But you should never refuse a good +offer, even from an enemy." Then his tone changed, for the sight of her +tired face softened him. + +"But I am not _your_ enemy, Margaret--Mrs. Thorpe, I mean. You will not +be just to me, that is not to be expected! but you can be generous. Let +me do this thing for you--in all good faith!" + +He held out his hand, but Meg drew back angrily. How durst he repeat +this lie about Barnabas in one breath, and in the next offer to help +her? he help her! + +"Ah, you hate me too much? But you are very foolish. You are making a +mistake," he began; then stopped short, struck dumb by the flash of +indignant scorn in her eyes. + +"I do not hate you, who swear falsehoods about my husband," she said. +"One must have a little respect before one hates! I could not accept any +favour from you. It would be easier," said Meg, determined that he +should press her no more, and clothing her feeling in the most forcible +words she could utter, "it would be easier to take hot burning coals in +my bare hands than to take any help from you now." + +George Sauls bit his lip and drew back a step. He wondered why this +woman's words had such power to hurt him. Then he pulled himself +together, and lifted his hat to her. + +"Thanks--that was quite plain enough," he said. "I must really have been +very dense to have required that, mustn't I? The Psalmist's hot coals +were reserved for his enemies' heads, not for their hands, Mrs. +Thorpe--but that's a trifle, and I won't press the commodity on you. I +most humbly regret having offered my assistance, and can only give you +my word that nothing on earth shall ever induce me to attempt such a +thing again. Apparently you don't think that my oaths are to be trusted, +as a rule; but you may believe in that one." + +And Mrs. Thorpe certainly did believe in it. + +She was surprised at her own anger; she hardly knew herself in these +days. Her indignation was still hot when she reached the tiny room in +which she lived, but by that time it had become tinged with anxiety. She +feared she had made matters worse for Barnabas by still further +embittering his enemy. Yet she could not have let Mr. Sauls help her! + +Fortunately, her hands were full of work; she had little time for +meditation. She had been seized with a sudden inspiration to take up +again one of the few accomplishments of her girlhood, and her efforts +had been crowned with unexpected success. She had been clever at +modelling and colouring wax fruit; and the sight of her old tools, which +had somehow come into Laura's possession, had suggested a possible means +of making money. + +The sum that her father had left her would have paid for her board and +lodging, but she saved every penny she could for the preacher's defence. + +She worked hard, allowing herself little rest, and going out only to the +prison grating, or for actual necessities. Her room was at the very top +of a tall narrow house close to the gaol. Tom had left her there with +many misgivings on his part, but with no apparent sinking of courage on +hers. She wrote occasionally to him and to her father-in-law, and her +letters were always cheerful. "I am taking care of myself beautifully. I +am learning all sorts of things," she wrote. + +The last sentence was very true. Meg learnt many things during those +long months of waiting for the assizes. + +She became a familiar figure in the "prison crowd." Most of the +_habitués_ of the outer yard knew her by sight, and many of them knew +her story as well (though she could not imagine how it had got about), +and they would stare at the "lydy," with amused and generally very +kindly curiosity. + +At first, the rough crowd rather alarmed her. In the midst of this +mighty city, on which she looked from her skylight window, she felt the +sense of isolation more deeply than on any mountain top. + +For some weeks she did not speak to any one when on her way to or from +the gaol; but, by degrees, her sympathy went out to the women who, like +herself, were waiting anxiously. + +On the first occasion when Barnabas failed to come to the grating, she +had, as we have seen, made a fruitless attempt to get into the ward by +an appeal to headquarters; but a second failure increased her +uneasiness. She was turning from the bars disheartened, when a scrap of +paper was thrust into her hand by the girl next her, who remarked by the +way: "You weren't 'alf spry, lydy. You'd never 'ave got it if it 'adn't +been for my Bill and me." + +The scrap had been wrapped round a bone, and dexterously thrown through +the bars. The writing was the preacher's, but so shaky that Meg found it +barely legible. + + "Ye've no call to be scared, my lass. I've had a bit of a fight, + but am all right. Only my face is a sight, and I'd not have you + startled by it, so I've kept away--and don't you come for a week or + two. + + "BARNABAS." + +The note brought relief to Meg, who had feared he must be very ill. It +was like him to be so afraid of "scaring" her by the sight of bruises: +since the day she had come back to him, her husband's fear of +frightening her had always been on the alert. + +She thanked the girl warmly, who, thereupon, confided to the "lydy" that +she was "down on her luck". + +She was the same very young so-called "wife" who had attracted Meg's +attention on the first visit to Newgate. + +She was crying because she had no offering for "Bill". She had never +before failed to bring something with her on visiting day. Bill, indeed, +lived a great deal better than his poor faithful little pal did, and on +the fat of the land. "Sally" kept him supplied in beer, tobacco, and +even meat (though she habitually went hungry herself), and he took his +detention very comfortably. + +Meg offered half the contents of her slender purse for the further +delectation of Bill, thereby making to herself friends of the mammon of +unrighteousness. She gained an immense amount of information, and got +her note "passed in"; but she also heard details of the row in the +prison that made her sick at heart. + +"But Bill says not one of 'em 'ull touch 'im now," the girl declared. +"He says he wouldn't 'imself, not if he was paid for it, and the +preacher bound 'and and foot; he says it give 'im a turn to see the +preacher stand up to 'em agin, when they'd handled him so afore that he +was still as weak as a cat. It seemed as if there must be some one +behind backing 'im, it were so unnatural like; and it turned Bill all of +a tremble, like as if it was something else than a man. His voice wasn't +above a whisper 'cos he were so feeble, but they just 'eld their breath +to listen to 'im--it's queer, ain't it?" + +Meg was trembling too. + +"Whose voice? the preacher's? but he is so strong," she said. "What did +they do to him?" + +"They got 'im down and kicked 'im," said the girl. "You see he'd riled +'em, and there's a good many of 'em in the yard, and it's just the way +men's made," added Sally leniently. "If they feel they've got some one +under, they just _must_ jump on 'em. I b'lieve they can't 'elp it--and +'is ribs got broke. Lor', don't look so! he's up again anyway, and 'as +got the upper 'and of 'em all too! and I'll teach you to make 'im a deal +more comfortable than I 'spect _you've_ known how." + +But, alas! Meg's preacher would have no "extra" comforts, and sternly +forbade the "passing in" of food to himself. The gaol allowance was +enough to live on, he said, and his lass must keep her money. + +Perhaps his abstention added to the awe of him in which he held Newgate, +voluntary poverty having always been a mighty power in the world, and +especially respected by free livers. + +Then came a day when Meg found "Bill's girl" shrieking and stamping with +a wild abandonment of grief that had something terribly inhuman in its +utter absence of control. + +Bill had been put in irons for a playful assault on a fellow-prisoner +with a hot poker, and Sally had bitten the gatekeeper because he +wouldn't let her in. + +"She doesn't know what she's doing; she's quite mad with passion and +trouble," said Meg pitifully. And she put her arms round "Bill's girl," +and pulled her away, and took her home with her and gave her some tea +and buns, and consoled her with startling success; for the access of +grief being past, Sally's spirits swung to the other extreme, with the +wonderful rapidity of her highly emotional class. + +Meg had not been the preacher's companion for months without imbibing +some knowledge of what she had to deal with. Her heart sank rather; but +for his sake who never in his life turned from any possibility of +helping any one, she did her best for the girl. + +It happened after that--she could hardly have told how--that, week by +week, she learned more of the women who haunted Newgate. + +There was nothing in her room worth stealing, and she had little to +give; but "Bill's girl" liked to come late in the evening and sit by +watching Meg model, and listening while she sang, for Meg preferred +singing to talking. + +"Let me stay up here, for I don't want to keep company with any other +while Bill's laid by," she said once. "I ain't as bad as some." + +So she stayed--and she was not the only one. + +The small room would be full sometimes. "But at least there are fewer of +them in the streets," Meg said to herself. + +She was often struck by her visitors' generosity. They were always ready +to give away their last sixpence for the "boys in quod". She pitied them +with a pity that made her heart ache. + +She seldom preached; and yet, to some of them, the thought of her was a +restraining power, a something holy, and not one of them would fight or +even swear in her presence. + +She took pains to keep her room tidy, but generally bought her food +ready cooked, which, if extravagant in one way, saved her time and +strength. If Barnabas would have allowed it, she would have lived on +buns and tea, and supplied him with meat; but, on that point he remained +firm. + +So the weeks went by, and the days grew shorter and colder. Meg was +determined to be very cheerful, since he had let her stay in London, and +would not allow that she felt either cold or depression. She would sit +on her bed with her feet tucked under her to keep them tolerably warm, +and would thaw her fingers at her candle; but she was anxious that +Barnabas should _know_ how happily she was getting on. + +There is so little profit in being cheerful for one's own benefit; and +she begged hard to see him on the next visiting day; when, alas, in +spite of his warnings, she was shocked. + +"My dear! I didn't mean ye to ha' come this week,--only, when ye said ye +wanted to, I couldn't say no to 'ee," he said. "But ye know, though it +ain't at all becoming to ha' one's face divided wi' sticking plaster, +it's not dangerous! Come, little lass, Dr. Merrill told me as I was +enough to scare a child into a fit, but I said as my wife wasn't a +baby." + +"It's not that," said Meg, trying to smile. "I shouldn't care in the +least what your face looked like; but----Oh, Barnabas, how they must +have hurt you!" + +It was his evident weakness, the want of strength even in the sound of +his voice, and the sight of his hand trembling, that shook her. + +"I hope they'll get all they deserve!" cried Meg. + +"Hush! Ye doan't know," said the preacher. "Ye doan't know what's been +against them, Margaret. If only I can make the moast o' this chance. +Why, my lass, ye needn't be so sorry ower a few bruises. I never was +much averse to a fight, an', happen, I gave some too! an' I didn't feel +aught so long as I was fighting neither; it was only 'comin to' was a +bit painful. Now we've had enough o' that, it ain't worth it. Talk to me +about yoursel'!" + +And Meg, with an effort, did as he bid her. It was a short interview, +for he really wasn't fit to stand, and she found it hard work to talk of +herself when she was longing to hear about him. But Barnabas had no +desire to tell his wife too much about the inside of Newgate. Why should +he give her bad dreams? + +Meg told him of her encounter with George Sauls, and about the wonderful +prices she had got for her wax fruit, of which she was rather proud, and +about "Bill's girl". + +"But if you were there, you'd know better what to say to them," she +cried. "I want to ask you constantly." + +"Poor little lass! Ye've not got Tom either, now," said Barnabas. "Nor +dad, who, I believe, allus suited ye best of us all; but I think ye do +finely, Margaret." + +And Meg went back to finish some flowers and take them to the shop that +always received them, and came home with the money in her hand, and sang +with her very odd "class" in the evening, and sat up to write to her +husband's relatives, all the time with the lump in her throat, that the +sight of those "few bruises" had brought. + +She began to tell Tom how ill the preacher looked, then tore the letter +up, and rewrote it. + +"He can do nothing, and it's a shame to make him anxious too," she +reflected. "Why should I? I wish Barnabas were here!" + +She had missed his constant care and protection before; but to-night +she jumped up restlessly, unable to sit still, and walked up and down +the room, filled with horrible visions of the scene in the yard when the +men the preacher had "riled" had pulled him down among them. + +Barnabas had made her promise that she wouldn't think "overmuch" of +that; and she tried to put the thought away again. + +"Ye must forget it! I'm sorry ye were told," he had said. "I'd not have +your thoughts o' me hurt you, my lass. Will 'ee be a bit glad to have me +to do for ye again, eh?" + +Would she? All at once Meg fell on her knees with the rush of a new +longing for him sweeping over her with unbearable strength. + +"Barnabas, it's you I want--at last--I do want you!" she cried aloud. +"Not what you do, but you yourself! Oh, it does hurt one to want like +this! I want your arms round me, and your voice quite close to me. I +want you so!" + +She rose, frightened at the strength of the feeling that had, as it +were, laid hands on her, and went to bed quickly in the dark. + +It had come at last, the love that had been so long in coming! But it +was no sweet boy Cupid wreathed in spring flowers, but rather an armed +warrior who took at last what most maids give blithely in the natural +time for courting. Was Nature, who never forgives nor forgets an insult, +indemnifying herself for the very unnatural way in which Meg and the +preacher had put their "earthly affections" out of the reckoning when +they married? Ah, well, she had her revenge, as she always has. "How it +hurts one!" Meg cried again. But Barnabas had known what _that_ ache +meant for nigh two years. + +Was it too late now? No; God could not be so cruel. Barnabas would call +that blasphemy. He never said, "God is cruel," whatever happened. +Whatever happened? but why was she so terrified to-night? He would be +set free, and nothing would happen. She would go to sleep and forget. + +She did sleep, after a time, and dreamed of a stake with Barnabas tied +to it, like an early "Christian martyr" in Foxe's Book, which she had +studied when a child in Uncle Russelthorpe's library. + +George Sauls was in the guise of an executioner, and kept heaping live +coals on the preacher's head with one hand, while he held her back with +the other, saying: "Apparently you don't think my swearing amounts to +much, Mrs. Thorpe; but I hope you believe in _that_". + +The horror she felt woke her (one has no sense of humour in a dream). +She had slept only five minutes, though it had seemed hours. She could +not bear to shut her eyes, and encounter that nightmare again. She +lighted her candle, and, sitting up in bed, went on with her modelling, +till daylight, which happily costs nothing, began to lighten the room. + +Then she opened her window and looked out. Traffic was already stirring +in the street below, she could see dimly the outline of the gaol through +the London mist. The air was raw, but the horror that had possessed her +fled with the darkness. With the breaking of the day Meg knew that she +had entered into a new kingdom. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + + "See + Or shut your eyes," said Nature peevishly, + "It nothing skills: I cannot help my case: + 'Tis the Last Judgment's fire must cure this place, + Calcine its clods and set my prisoners free." + + --_Browning._ + + +Barnabas Thorpe had been blessed all his life with a physique that was +strong enough to bear the exactions of his spirit. In this respect he +had been remarkably fortunate. But, after all, his body was made of +flesh and blood; and flesh and blood give way at last. + +It was a great source of grief to him that he could no longer heal as he +had once healed; that strange power seemed to have, in a large measure, +left him. + +"May be it's because I am not fit to ha' it," he said sadly. "One who +hates his brother whom he has seen deserves no power to bring down +healing from the God he has not seen." + +The surgeon, who was watching Barnabas dress a wound that had been +inflicted by Bill's poker, laughed impatiently. + +"That's nonsense, you know," he remarked; but he no longer said, "That's +cant". + +The preacher's surgery was gentler than the doctor's, which was +certainly rough. The man's eye was badly damaged, and the lightest +touch caused agony; he turned over on his face with a groan when +Barnabas had finished. + +"I used to be able to lighten pain more," said Barnabas. "I've often +known that, when I've put my hand on one suffering like that, the +torment has been stilled for a bit and he's fallen asleep. But I can't +do it now!" + +"Of course you can't," said the doctor. "You had a sort of mesmeric +faculty that you believed miraculous; but your own nervous energy has +been pretty well kicked out of you now, and you are ill and weak; and, +naturally, you can't play those tricks which, let me tell you, are best +left alone at any time. The failure has nothing whatever to do with your +morals, it has to do with your body. If you had been the greatest rogue +unhung, so long as your iniquities hadn't touched your health, you'd +still have possessed that faculty. There was no need to pray about it; +or, if you'd prayed to the devil, it would have come to the same thing; +except, of course, that people prefer the other arrangement--it's the +pleasanter myth of the two." + +Barnabas frowned, looking straight in front of him from under his fair +eyebrows. + +Scepticism was utterly impossible to him; the doctor's remarks could not +touch the simplicity of his faith; he had rejoiced in his healing power, +but if it had been clearly demonstrated to him a thousand times that his +belief in it was a fallacy, the demonstrator would have left him +practically much where he had been before. + +"The same God as makes souls makes the bodies to 'em, I suppose," he +said. "I can't see as it makes the least bit o' difference which the +power comes through, sir. It's only 'through' arter all. I fancied it +went straight fro' my soul to the sick man's; but you are more larned, +and, happen, you know better; happen, as you say, it went fro' my +body--it's no matter, is it, so long as it went? It wasn't fro' the +devil, I know, because it was good and healed; I never heard as he did +that; he destroys both soul and body. I've never prayed to _him_," said +the preacher, giving the doctor's words a literal interpretation that +half amused, half irritated his companion; "but you're wrong when you +say it 'ud ha' come to the same thing." + +"Oh, you think that the supernatural supply would have dried up, eh?" +said Dr. Merrill. The preacher's reply took him by surprise. + +"No; I'd not say that for sartain," he said, after a moment's +reflection. "If ye mean the power--God doan't stop our breath when we +use it to deny and blaspheme Him. If He did, I'd ha' been dead in my +boyhood, and ye'd not ha' it now. Happen the power would ha' come just +th' same (though I ain't sure about it), like the breath; but it 'ud ha' +made a difference. Ha' ye never seen a man using God's gifts for th' +devil's service? I have. Ay, an' so have ye, an' ye know too, that he'd +_better_ be dead than do it! As for supernatural, I doan't ever +understan' what people mean by that. If it means fro' above--why, +everything is that; I can't see the thing as isn't--unless it's fro' +below," said the preacher, still frowning. "Happen ye can explain it to +me." + +The doctor shook his head. + +"No," he said, "you're right. There's nothing especially supernatural in +your creed, Thorpe; because, as you say, it's _all_ that; nor in mine, +because it's none of it; so we'll leave the term to the great majority, +who are neither fish, fowl, nor good red herring. Anyhow, you've got a +marvellous knack with your fingers, whether it comes from heaven or +hell, and I suppose you'll swear it must be one or t'other! It's pretty +to see how quickly you bandage. It's not every doctor who would let you +try your hand like this," said the surgeon, who was rather proud of his +liberality. "But I like to see uncommon talent, even in a quack. It's a +pity it's mixed with superstition. Now look here; Hopping Jack's sight +is gone, and no amount of praying can possibly bring it back to this +eye, as I can prove to you in a moment." + +The unfortunate Jack swore under his breath, when the surgeon turned his +face to the light again. + +"Let him alone, sir," said the preacher quickly. "There's no need to +touch him again. Oh, ay, I've no sort o' doubt ye know a deal more nor I +do; if ye put your power down to th' same source, happen ye'd be a bit +tenderer in your way o' using it; ye say it 'ud come to the same, but +some o' your patients 'ud feel a difference." + +The doctor shrugged his shoulders; if any one but Barnabas Thorpe had +commented on his want of feeling, and infliction of pain not always +necessary, he would have snubbed him ruthlessly; but, with the evidence +before him of a disregard to personal injury, that had wrung genuine +admiration from him, he couldn't accuse the preacher of undue and +effeminate softness. + +He was not naturally cruel; but a man must be upheld by an uncommonly +high aim if he can work constantly among brutal and debased natures +without either giving way to despair or hardening his heart. + +There was a story current in the prison about his having got a man off +hanging on condition of his being allowed to try a new operation on him. +He was no philanthropist, but he was fond of his profession and a great +experimenter; there was not a rogue in Newgate but had a wholesome awe +of the little red-haired surgeon. + +Hopping Jack was actually grateful to Barnabas. + +"It's a case of 'when the devil was ill,'" Dr. Merrill said. "He won't +listen to you when he can do without your bandaging, Thorpe! He'll be +able to mimic you to the life by the time he's up again--drawl and all." + +"But that won't drive me to hold my tongue," said Barnabas smiling. + +And, as it happened, the doctor was wrong. Hopping Jack refrained from +caricaturing the preacher, even when he got better. + +"It ain't that I couldn't!" he said regretfully to Barnabas. "I _could_ +do you now as you wouldn't know which was yourself! you're easy to take +off; and I could twist 'em all round to listen to me--every man Jack of +'em; but I won't." + +"Ye'd be playing a scurvy trick," said Barnabas; "an' in Satan's +service. He's a bad paymaster." + +Jack winked with the one eye left. + +"Gammon! It ain't for that that I don't do it," he said. "Your Master +lets you go to gaol too, don't He? you ain't a bit better off for Him. +No, it ain't for that, nor for the sake of the stuff you talk. I've +heard all that before. But you had a fine chance to pay me out for the +game I started in the yard; and you didn't take it--quite contrariwise; +and _that_ sticks in my throat, for I tell you I felt pretty sick when +the doctor, d----n him, called _you_ in." + +"Why, man, what did you suppose I'd do?" said Barnabas. "Ye needn't be +grateful to me for not behaving like a devil." + +In his most unregenerate days he could never have revenged himself in +cold blood on a defenceless and suffering creature. The idea was so +utterly abhorrent to him that he felt disgusted at the suggestion, and +even at the gratitude that took for granted that he might have been +tempted in such wise. + +Hopping Jack laughed hoarsely, and said he knew what he'd have done if +he'd got a cove who'd broken his ribs under his thumb. But, apparently, +from that hour he looked upon the preacher as belonging to a different +species, and placed in him an implicit trust that was not without +pathos. + +When the time of the sessions drew near he became alternately wildly +flighty and deeply despondent,--the former being his ordinary condition, +the latter only occasional. + +He was superstitious, and had a deep-seated belief in luck, which had +failed him of late; when the despondent phase was on, he became rather +dangerous both to himself and to others. + +Physical pain added largely to his depression, for he still suffered +from the injury to his eye. Barnabas felt the responsibility, that +always drove him to do his utmost, doubly great, because this waggish +scamp, who was the approved "funny man" of Newgate, evinced at times a +strong, almost dog-like affection for him. But Jack was not the only one +among all that miserable crew who appealed strongly to Barnabas Thorpe's +ruling passion to "save". + +After all, the reckless licence, the apparently brutal callousness, and +shameful blasphemy that reigned in the wards were heightened and +partially excused by the fact that half these men felt the shadow of the +gallows on them; with such a spectre in the corner they drank deep and +laughed loudly, lest it should grow too plain. "Oh, it ain't come to +that _yet_," one of them said, shuddering, in answer to an entreaty of +the preacher to pause and think. "I ain't got to the thinkin' time." + +Yet, on the whole, Barnabas influenced them. The prison chaplain had +given up the press yard as a bad job; but then the chaplain had a good +many interests which were quite as important to him as the "converting" +of sinners. Barnabas was a man of one idea: even where the woman he +loved was concerned, he would have deliberately advised her to lay down +her bodily life, as she had laid down her position and worldly wealth, +if that could, by any possibility, have seemed necessary for the +furtherance of Christ's kingdom; and his extreme singleness of aim told, +as it always must, whether the aim is high or low. It is possible indeed +that his very limitations made him the more effective. The men who see +many sides of a question are chary of spilling their blood. The +liberal-minded philosophers have their place in the world, but they +can't rescue those who are sinking; they can only explain why they +sink--which, no doubt, is equally useful. + +Those Newgate sermons were preached with the intense fervour of one who +believed that the "night was soon coming" for many of his hearers. But +the constant strain on mind and body was growing more evident: the +preacher was no longer the man he had been when he had first entered +Newgate, and protested so vigorously against the iniquities of the press +yard; he had grown quite grey in these three months, and his broad +shoulders were bowed. + +Dr. Merrill was moved to violent indignation on the subject. It was +sheer waste of the most magnificent constitution he had ever come +across, he said; and Barnabas Thorpe was innocent. Barnabas himself was +not indignant; his was not the sort of nature that turns sour in +adversity. He generally took things simply, with few questionings as to +the why and wherefore; but the hopefulness that had characterised him as +to his own prospects rather failed about this time. + +"It's allus afore seemed to me most like that I'd get what I wanted, for +I used to feel somehow that there was such a deal o' pushin' power in +wanting," he said once. "Two months back I hadn't a doubt but what I'd +be proved clear; but I doan't know now. Arter all, when I come to think, +I've never had what I've most set my heart on for my own sake, though +I've been helped in my work. Some people want sunshine, and some are +coarser natured, maybe, and best managed t'other way. Happen I won't be +proved innocent; happen I'm the sort as is best without much +satisfaction. But it seems as if that 'ud be hard on my wife, for she's +quite a different make to me, and a much finer; and I can't somehow +think as _she_ needs sorrow. My poor little lass! she's had enough." + +The very tone of the remark showed how the natural buoyant spirit had +been knocked out of him; though his passion for working in season and +out of season was even stronger than before. + +He was gentler than he had been; and the most miserable turned to him +with an instinctive hope that the mercy of heaven might possibly, after +all, be as deep as the mercy of this man, even if equally +uncompromising. He saw Margaret seldom now. He often was not fit to +stand at the grating; and, moreover, he feared that these unsatisfactory +meetings were almost more pain than pleasure to his darling. + +Early in November, Hopping Jack, together with three accomplices, was +tried, and condemned to death; but while the sentence of hanging was +recorded oftener then than it is at present, there was also a greater +probability of getting off. In nine cases out of ten the sentence was +successfully appealed against; and the tenth man probably suffered the +extreme penalty as an "example," at times when there was a scare about +the especial sin he was condemned for. + +Unfortunately for Jack, the crime in which he had been taken red-handed +was rife just then; and the public hot against that class of evil-doers. + +The agony of suspense was consequently sharp enough; and Barnabas in his +heart hoped that a juster judge than any earthly one would not hold the +poor wretch guilty for the mad outbreaks that characterised this awful +time of waiting for the result of the appeal. Surely no one had the +right to inflict a six weeks' torture of uncertainty! He succeeded with +much difficulty in getting Jack off an imprisonment in the dark cell. He +felt convinced that the dark would drive the man out of his remaining +senses. After that, he held himself accountable for Jack's vagaries, and +very frequently managed to restrain them. The doctor, at the preacher's +earnest entreaty, declared the culprit an "unfit subject" for solitary +confinement in utter darkness. + +"Though, mind you, he's an equally 'unfit subject' for association with +his fellows in the light," he remarked to Barnabas. "They'd much better +put him out of the world as soon and as quickly as possible. He's one of +nature's mistakes, and you had better not have mercy on mistakes, +Thorpe, as you ought to know." A piece of advice that had been given +before, with equal want of effect! + +The wardsman liked Barnabas none the better for this second +interference; but it did not at first occur to the preacher that he was +being purposely ill-treated when his food was scantier than it ought to +have been, when his gruel was handed to him in a pail, instead of a +basin, and when he was carefully excluded from a share of the fire. + +When he did discover that these paltry revenges were constant and +unremitting, and likely to continue, unless he paid the ward dues, he +took no notice of them. There was, certainly, a strong vein of the +family obstinacy in Barnabas, and he wasn't going to "give in" to an +illegal extortion simply because he was rather colder, hungrier, and +more uncomfortable than need be. + +The worst days of Newgate, when a gaoler could actually torture or flog +a rebellious prisoner, were happily past, and he had too much sturdy +pride to complain to the authorities of such mean and petty indignities +as he endured, but they probably affected his broken health; and that +November was bitterly cold. + +He had never in his life before suffered from weather; but he suffered +terribly now, both by day and night. The rugs that covered the men were +never washed, and he had resolved to prefer comparative cleanliness and +cold to unmitigated dirt, and was very angry with his own softness for +feeling the frost, "like a woman". Indeed, in his ordinary health it +would have done him no harm; but, unfortunately, his bones had not +recovered from the violent handling they had received, and he lay awake +pretty constantly with racking rheumatic pains in them, and began to +stoop like a man of sixty. + +At last, towards the end of the month, his turn came. + +The case had roused wide interest, both actors in it having already, in +widely different ways, made a certain amount of sensation in London. The +court was full, and the crowd outside dense. + +More than one glance was directed curiously at the preacher's wife, who +stood among the spectators, and was quite unconscious of criticism or +interest, whether kindly or adverse. Margaret stood between Tom Thorpe +and Dr. Merrill; but her whole attention was concentrated on Barnabas. +This sea of upturned faces was nothing to her. + +George Sauls, looking over the heads of the crowd, caught a glimpse of +her, and bit his lip with a sensation of sharp pain, and of something +very like envy. He would almost have exchanged places with the prisoner, +if by so doing he could make that one woman look at him thus with all +her soul in her eyes. That which he could not have, that which would +never be his, seemed to him at that moment to loom large and clear, to +be the only reality in a world of shadows. He told himself that he was +mad, quite mad, and that it was lucky for him that his madness could +take no effect. He told himself that this woman was only like other +women; that even if her heart could be turned to him by some magic, if +he could give all his ambitions and all his wealth in exchange for her, +he would wake, when his dream should be over, and regret the bargain. He +told himself that he knew what this was made of; that he had been "in +love" before now. But the odd part of it was that he did _not_ know. + +If the wickedness of our own hearts sometimes takes us by surprise, so, +I think, does their goodness. Mr. Sauls had a constitutional dislike to +mysteries, and preferred thinking about what he could understand; but +there were elements in his love for Meg which would astonish him yet. + +Meanwhile, this story that the counsel for the prosecution was telling +was not a particularly pleasant one for Mrs. Thorpe to hear; though it +was absolutely necessary that it should be told. George Sauls' +expression grew stolid and impenetrable as he listened. He was already +low in her estimation. Very well: she should have the satisfaction of +knowing that her estimate was right, and _he_ would have the +satisfaction of seeing Barnabas Thorpe hang. + +The counsel dwelt on the enmity that had existed between the prosecutor +and the prisoner,--an enmity that he described as being, on the +prisoner's side, passionate and unrestrained, and almost bordering on +monomania. He should call two witnesses to the fact of Barnabas Thorpe's +having already attempted Mr. Sauls' life fifteen years before this last +outrage. He spoke of that scene in the churchyard where not even the +presence of death had availed to quell the prisoner's mad passion. + +Neither the futility of such a wild act of vengeance, nor the indecency +of brawling over a newly made grave, had had power to restrain him then: +the same violent impulse had evidently possessed him again in later +life, when no friendly hands were present to hold him back. He went on +to describe how the two men had met again in the hay-field, where the +preacher had denounced Mr. Sauls as "unfit to sit at table with Mrs. +Thorpe," and when Mr. Sauls had suggested that the preacher had better +try to "bring him to repentance" when Mrs. Thorpe was not by. A farm +labourer, who would be called to give evidence, had overheard that +interview. + +Then he told how Mr. Sauls had started on his walk to N----town, +following a track that lay across the marshes. This track led only to +Caulderwell Farm, and was little frequented. He was followed by his +enemy. Mr. Sauls openly acknowledged that he had done his best, on this +occasion, to provoke a quarrel. He had demanded an explanation of the +words that the preacher had used in the hay-field, and had asked +tauntingly whether Barnabas Thorpe only preached "when sheltered by +petticoats". Close on this scene followed the tragic and nearly fatal +crime for which Barnabas Thorpe stood arraigned. The preacher and Mr. +Sauls had parted in anger; Mr. Sauls had gone but a short distance when +he was struck to the ground by a blow on the back of his head. Mr. Sauls +did not see his assailant, but the facts of the case spoke for +themselves. Crimes of violence were rare in that part of the country. +Mr. Sauls was a stranger in N----town. He was not aware that any man, +with the exception of the preacher, bore him, or had reason to bear him, +a grudge. Whoever had struck the blow had meant to kill, and had all but +accomplished the fulfilment of his desire. Tom Thorpe, who had found the +prosecutor unconscious and hurt nigh to death, and the doctor who was in +attendance on him, would be called as witnesses. + +The prisoner listened to the speech for the prosecution with a curiously +composed air. Once only, when the counsel described the meeting on the +marsh, his brows contracted with momentary anxiety. A minute later he +raised his head and looked hard at George Sauls. He was glad that that +gentleman had had the grace to keep Margaret's name out of the affair. +His eyes met his accuser's, and, oddly enough, for a single moment, in +the midst of this trial, which was for the life of one of them, these +two were of the same mind. + +When the witnesses for the prosecution were called, the prisoner's +interest seemed to lapse. He nodded reassuringly to poor old Giles, who +was heartbroken at having to give evidence against him, but otherwise he +paid little heed to what was going on. He was physically exhausted, +which partly accounted for his apathy, and he had made up his mind to +let things take their course. He had absolutely refused to allow +Margaret to employ counsel on his behalf, but he had very little fear as +to the result of the trial. His defence was in "the hands of the Lord"; +he would "bide quiet," and leave it there. Meg had found it vain to +attempt to shake this resolution. Barnabas had a prejudice against +lawyers, and his prejudices were not easily removed, but he had also a +more reasonable ground for refusing their aid. He hated half measures, +and felt that there was little use in telling half a story, while he was +bound in honour not to tell the whole. In the absence of counsel, he +made one short and trenchant remark on his own behalf. + +"If I had meant to kill Mr. Sauls, there'd ha' been no need for me to +come behind an' hit i' th' dark," he said. "I should ha' done it face to +face, for I was a bit th' stronger o' th' two then; an', if ye ask him, +he'll bear me out there. I'm not generally scared o' fair fighting." + +There was a little hastily suppressed murmur in the court at the last +words. + +The story of the middle yard had somehow got about. No one doubted the +truth of that last statement. The man's voice was low and his speech as +short as could well be, but his bowed shoulders and whitened hair spoke +for him. Margaret turned to the red-haired doctor with a proud smile on +her white lips. + +"They'll _have_ to believe him," she said; and the doctor laughed +grimly. "He had better have all Newgate into the witness box!" + +But indeed there was no need for the denizens of Newgate to testify to +the preacher's character. Honest men there were in plenty who were more +than ready with their evidence. Barnabas called three only; but one of +the most distinctive features of the trial was the crowd of would-be +witnesses who clamoured outside the police court, begging, and +sometimes threatening in their eagerness, "to say a word" for the +accused. "I know that the preacher never murdered any one or tried +to--why? 'Cos he cured my baby when it was chokin' with croup; and I've +trudged seven miles to say so," said one draggled, tired-out woman, who +could not be persuaded to see that her baby's life had no possible +connection with the case. + +"Ye've tuk oop th' wrong soart, an' I've summat to say to th' judge +abeawt th' preacher. Thae knows he tented me through the black fever +an'----What? ye won't let me in? The judge is a fule man!" cried a +sturdy and irate countryman, who was convinced that his not being +allowed to storm the witness box was a proof of the gross miscarriage of +justice. Men actually fought to get into the already over-crowded court. +The testimony as to the preacher's character from east and west and +north and south was simply overpowering. + +Margaret lingered to shake hands with more than one friend of the +preacher's when she left the heated court at the end of the first day of +the trial. + +"When my husband is free again, he will thank you himself," she said. +And the men drew back to let her pass, with little murmurs of sympathy. +Tom Thorpe was still on one side of her, and the prison doctor on the +other. + +"Ye'd better get out o' this as quick as ye can," Tom cried; but Meg, +who usually shrank from contact with strangers, was in no hurry now. The +shouts for Barnabas and the groans for Mr. Sauls made her blood tingle. +The sharp anxiety at her heart hurt less when she was in the midst of +those excited partisans. She had smiled bravely whenever Barnabas had +looked at her, but the sight of him had awakened a passion of +indignation that she dreaded being alone with. She wished she could +have stayed in the midst of a crowd till the second day's trial should +begin. Tom was excited too; his deep-set eyes were glowing, and he +hurried her on almost roughly. + +"Look 'ee," he said, "I'm thinking some o' those lads as came wi' me +'ull mayhap gi'e Mr. Sauls a warm welcome when he comes out; an' I'd +like to see it! Just get clear o' th' scrimmage, an' then I'll go back. +Lord bless ye! I've been too kind to that gentleman; but now I've seen +our lad's face----" His voice choked. + +Meg looked first at him, and then at the knot of L----shire men who +stood by the door, and whose "warm welcome" was waiting for George +Sauls. She felt instinctively that it would be of no avail to plead with +Tom. She turned round and caught hold of the doctor; who had, she knew, +been kind to her husband. + +"They mean to catch Mr. Sauls when he comes out of court," she said +rapidly. "He'd better get away by another door, if he can." + +The doctor nodded. "Mr. Sauls can generally be trusted to take care of +number one," he remarked; "but I'll tell him." + +Tom, who heard the words, laughed angrily. For a moment, Dr. Merrill +fancied that the preacher's brother was going forcibly to prevent his +carrying the message. But, indignant as Tom was, he felt responsible to +Barnabas for Margaret, and wouldn't plunge into a row with her hands +clinging to his arm. + +"That woman will catch it for having prevented him!" thought the doctor. +"There's no doubt about it, there is a queer temper in that family." + +When they were clear of the crowd, Meg broke the silence. + +"You are very angry with me," she said. + +Tom's anger would have repelled and frightened her once; but just now +she experienced an odd sort of consolation in the intensity of the wrath +and grief he felt for his brother's sake. Tom "cared" as no one else +did. + +"I'm not such a good Christian as ye are," he said. His voice sounded +gruff, and he spoke in sharp undertones, turning his head away. He was +so angry that he could not trust himself to look at the fair face his +brother loved, though he held his anger with a tight rein. + +"So ye wouldn't ha' the man as has made our lad look like _that_--ay, +and 'ull hang him, if he can,--so much as scratched, eh? Ye sent to warn +him! Good Lord! it's Barnabas' wife as kindly warns Barnabas' murderer! +Ye'll forgi'e the man as 'ud like to kill your husband wi' his lyin' +tongue, till seventy times seven! I've known ye a bit hard on Barnabas +times, but----" He checked himself, and swallowed the rest of that +sentence; but the sharp pull up brought the colour to Meg's pale face. + +"Oh, ye are right!" he said, after a silence. "An' uncommonly forgiving +an' a remarkable good Christian lass, as I said afore; ye are +right--only d----n me, if I wouldn't rayther have a sinner for a wife!" + +"Ah," said Meg; "but you are giving me credit for more Christianity than +I possess." He did look at her then, struck by something strange in her +tone. Barnabas' wife was altered too. With that too vivid consciousness +of what Barnabas had gone through, burning like fire somewhere at the +bottom of her heart, it struck her as almost ludicrous that Tom should +suppose she had pity on the preacher's enemy. + +"I heard Long John swearing that he'd served with you man and boy for +nigh thirty years, and had never in his life seen one of you put out; +that, in fact, your mildness as a family was proverbial!" said +Margaret. She did not speak like herself, she was like another woman +to-day,--older and sterner and less gentle. + +"Of course he did," said Tom. "It 'ud ha' been uncommon queer if one o' +the L----shire lads as I've licked into shape wi' my own hands didn't +swear by us." + +"It would," said Meg gravely. "But if you and those same lads had caught +and half murdered Mr. Sauls as he left the court, it would be an odd +sort of comment on what we've been hearing, wouldn't it? Perhaps, after +that, they'd hardly believe in the great gentleness of the Thorpe +disposition, or see how unlikely it is that one of you should hit a man +with a bill-hook." + +Tom stood still in the middle of the road, and caught her arm with a +grasp which hurt her, though neither of them was the least aware of that +at the moment. + +"Ye doan't tell me ye believe he did that?" he said; and she wondered +for a moment what he would have done, if she _had_ believed it. + +"No--I know the truth," she said. "And, even if he had not told me, I +should still have known that it would have been impossible for him to +hit unfairly. But it's not in the natural mildness of your temper that I +trust, Tom. Barnabas has something more than that." + +Tom gave a despairing grunt. "An' the summat more's just his ruin!" he +said, letting her go again. "There! I hadn't no kind o' business to ha' +spoken rough to 'ee, lass; and Barnabas 'ud not ha' forgi'en me in a +hurry, if he'd heard. I meant to ha' been a help to 'ee; but, I think, +I'm mazed wi' to-day's work. It were seeing him." + +"Yes, yes; I know, Tom," said Meg. "Do you think I don't know how it +breaks one's heart to see him like that? But, when we get him safe home +again, we will take such care of him! All the care he ever gave me he +shall have back with interest. He will be obliged to get strong, for we +will nurse him so well." And again the wistful tenderness in her voice +struck Tom as something fresh. + +"I wish it were Monday!" she said. "There is no doubt that he will be +acquitted. Oh, no doubt at all! Didn't you hear that red-haired doctor +say so? He said that there was no direct evidence against Barnabas, and +that even Mr. Sauls' cleverness could not make an innocent man guilty. +Barnabas looked as if he weren't attending; I think he feels that what +becomes of him personally is not his business; or else he was too worn +out to listen. On Monday it will be over. I wish it were Monday!" + +"Ay! it 'ull be over," said Tom; "but what if it's over the wrong way? +The devil does win sometimes, lass, whatever Barnabas may say." + +"It isn't possible," said Meg. Then the soft curves of her lips +straightened. "If the devil wins," she said, "why, then--you may do what +you like. You may tear Mr. Sauls to pieces, Tom, and I will stand by, +and clap my hands and cry 'well done!'" + +"Amen!" said Tom, holding out his hand. He knew now what had changed +Barnabas' wife. + +They walked on in silence through the darkening street after that, +engrossed by their own thoughts. Tom had got a room in the same house as +his sister-in-law; he nodded "good-night" absently to her when they +reached home. Five minutes later she knocked at his door, and entered +his room with a plate in her hands. + +"I've brought you something to eat. Do take it, Tom. You've had nothing +all day," she said gently. + +"I haven't the heart to feast," said Tom. "An' I hate to see ye waiting +on me!" But he swallowed the food hastily, seeing that she would take no +denial. Meg's sisterly attentions half touched, half irritated him just +then. Anxiety always made Tom cross. + +"Are ye gadding about again?" he asked, glancing at her bonnet. + +"Yes, I am going to Commercial Road," said Meg. "Mr. Potter tells me +that he has got some clothes belonging to Barnabas,--a jersey, and a +shirt and a cloth cap. I am going to fetch them and take them to the +prison to-night. They say the ward is terribly cold." + +"I'll go for 'ee," said Tom, getting up and stretching himself. "What +way is it, eh?" + +"We will both go," said Meg. "I can't sit still." And Tom checked the +remonstrance that was on his lips. + +"Come along, lass," he said. "Though it's a wonder ye want my company +any more! Eh, the wind's blowing wi' ice in it. Come along, if ye will." + +"I think I was glad you were angry," said Meg, laughing a little +unsteadily, as they went out again. + +"It is good to have one of his own people with me. I couldn't have borne +to be with any one but you just now. It is you who belong to him." + +"Eh? Times are changed, lass," said Tom. "Barnabas would ha' gi'en his +ears once to ha' heard ye say that." + +"He wouldn't have let me say that I'd cry 'well done' if you revenged +yourself on his enemy, though. Tom, I was mad. Forget it, please!" + +"Would ye forgive him?" said Tom, looking hard at her. He repeated the +question again presently and more insistingly. "Would ye forgive him--if +he won?" + +"No!" she said. "One may forgive one's own enemies, but I could never +forgive those that injure the people I love. It's not in me to be so +good as that--I meant what I said. I should have no pity left for +_him_--for it would all be given," said Meg. She pressed her hands tight +against her breast as she walked, and her steps quickened so that Tom +could hardly keep pace with her. "But, all the same, I would not cry +'well done', and I would do my best to prevent you--for Barnabas' sake." + +"Would ye? Ye wouldn't find your preventin' answer twice, my good lass!" +said Tom. "Well, I'm glad ye doan't forgive him. It's more natural like. +Ye aren't so much like snow and moonshine as ye were. It made me sick +when I thought ye were sorry for that man. A woman who can be sorry for +her husband's enemy can't care much. I'm glad ye've some flesh and blood +in the way you're made!" + +"Do you think that I care less than you?" said Meg. + +"Than me! ay, it stands to reason----" began Tom, then stopped short. "I +wish I'd left that gentleman in the ditch!" he ended with some +irrelevance. "I'll never pick up any one again; there's a deal to answer +for." + +"Barnabas wouldn't wish that," said Meg. + +"Barnabas!" he cried. "He doesn't know what's good for him! Oh, ay, I +know what ye are going to say. He'll ha' his reward i' the next world; +but what do ye think he'll do wi' it? Why, he'll be miserable in a happy +place. When Barnabas gets to heaven he'll ha' no peace till he's sent to +hell, my dear, nor give the angels peace either. Ay, ye may cry out, +Barnabas' wife, but it's true, an' ye'll see it, if ever ye get to +heaven too." + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + + +Mr. Sauls took the doctor's hint, and risked no broken bones. + +"I might have a remarkable piece of evidence as to the excellence of +that charming family's temper," he remarked; "but it's not worth while +being mobbed for that. I wonder Tom Thorpe is such a fool!" + +"Mrs. Thorpe sent you the warning," said the doctor. + +"Did she?" said George, rather surprised. "Ah! she saw if Mr. Tom broke +my head afresh, he'd help to damn the preacher." + +He opined justly enough. Love and hate had arrived for once at the same +conclusion. + +Mrs. Sauls had been in the court, as well as dozens of other ladies not +so immediately concerned, who had stared through opera glasses at the +preacher, and whispered to each other that the slight woman in black +with the pale face and cropped hair was Mrs. Thorpe, "who _was_ Margaret +Deane, you know". + +George Sauls made his exit in safety, and went to Hill Street to talk +things over with his mother. + +"You won't win, my dear," she said. "He can't prove that he didn't do +it; but you can't prove that he did; and the jury always incline to the +side of poor man _versus_ gentleman. His ragged coat and his rough +accent are decidedly in his favour; he'll get off." + +"I've done my little best," said George, throwing himself on the sofa +full length. "That's always a comfort. As you say, he'll possibly escape +through the holes in his shirt. An English jury have a curiously +sentimental leaning to poverty. May I smoke? Thanks! Well, it is some +small satisfaction to reflect that I've given him three months in +Newgate; and I don't think it has agreed with him." + +The old lady nodded thoughtfully; she and George always thoroughly +understood each other. + +She knew that he liked his cigar, and the warm room, and the soft sofa +the better because Barnabas Thorpe was suffering bodily discomfort; and +it was a very natural source of satisfaction, she considered. + +"And there's a further consolation," he went on, after puffing away in +silence for a few minutes. "You see I am resigning myself to the chance +of his not being hung. There's another consolation. If I win, he'll be a +martyr, as sure as I'm a sinner; he'll have such a glorification as will +disguise the fact that he is being punished for a dastardly attempt at +murder. They'll forget that. He'll be 'injured poverty'; and I, +'oppressing opulence'. But, if he gets off for want of sufficient +evidence, then they won't forget. I fancy his preaching won't go down so +well then--there'll always be whispers." + +"That's true," said Mrs. Sauls. "It's odd that they have never traced +those diamonds since your pockets were rifled." + +"I believe some one must have seen me lying there, before Mr. Tom played +good Samaritan, and must have helped himself. I don't believe the +preacher would have stolen from me, do you?" + +He had great faith in his mother's judgment; this time it took him by +surprise. + +"If you want my private opinion on the subject--but perhaps you don't?" +she began. + +"Oh yes, I do. I always like to hear your private opinions. They are +refreshingly original. Go on." + +"Well, my dear, my private opinion is this: A man who is capable of +hitting behind in the dark, is capable of emptying his victim's pockets; +but _that_ man did neither the one nor the other." + +George took his cigar from between his lips, and sat upright with a +jerk. His mother was sitting by the fire, her rich silk dress tucked up, +her feet on the fender, her light, cat-like eyes gazing into the red +embers. She nodded again, as if in answer to his movement. + +"That is strictly between ourselves, George," she said; "but I am +convinced he didn't do it. He made a shocking poor defence! If he had +been guilty, he might have found more to say. He wasn't attempting to +exonerate himself. My dear, I watched him all the time, and he hardly +took it in when a point was made for and when against him. He knew when +his wife moved, and he was pleased when that fine old clergyman called +him his friend; but he wasn't following the case. He is ill; any one +could see that he could hardly stand. But, if he had been guilty, his +nerves would have been on the rack all the time; and, if he had known +nothing about it, he'd have shown more fight. He knows something, and +has made up his mind that his tongue's tied, and that he will just leave +it to Providence." + +"Ah well," said George, "if nothing short of hanging will teach Barnabas +Thorpe that Providence does not go out of its way to dance attendance on +him, I humbly hope he may learn that lesson with a rope round his neck. +I don't feel called on to baulk it. If he is such a fool as to shelter +criminals, let him." + +"Certainly," said Mrs. Sauls. "But, if he were your client, my son, he'd +be cleared. If you had been acting for him, you'd have found out, before +now, who the real criminal was, whether Barnabas Thorpe tried to shelter +him or not." + +George laughed. "I am too old a bird to be caught by such a bare-faced +compliment, old lady!" said he. "If that rascally saint were my client, +of course I should do my best to whitewash him; but he isn't innocent, +and I shouldn't think him so." + +"Shall I tell you what will happen? The diamonds will be found in the +possession of the real culprit," said Mrs. Sauls. + +"Oh, of course they will be found," said George; "as soon as the thief +tries to pass them. He'll be afraid to, for weeks yet. I never had any +hope that they were in our pious friend's possession. Pooh! he's greedy +of praise, and he likes pretty women, in conjunction with long prayers; +but I'm bound to own that, if it had been diamonds he was hankering +after, he could have had them without the trouble of knocking me on the +head." + +"Oh--could he? that has not come out in court," said Mrs. Sauls, her +sharp old face alight with interest. "You mentioned a locket set with +diamonds among the contents of your pocket; but you, neither of you, +said that you had had any talk about it." + +"It belonged to Mrs. Thorpe originally," said George. "It happened to +come into my hands. In fact, I picked it up in a pawn-shop, and tried to +return it to her. Her husband wouldn't let her accept it, which was like +his insolence; but there was no need for either of us to drag her name +into court, and I wasn't going to give all the sweet women who look on +at trials the joy of serving up a bit of scandal about that poor lady. +They are like French cooks--they can concoct a spicy dish out of next +to nothing. Well! what are you cogitating now?" + +"You say he likes pretty women," said Mrs. Sauls. "It strikes me he +likes _one_ woman uncommonly well. As for his preaching and praying, it +has cost him so dear, by all accounts, that, though it may be done in +the market-place, I fancy it can hardly be for the praise of men. Cant +doesn't court broken bones, as a rule." + +"Ah! women are always taken in by that sort," said George. "I thought +better of you, mother! Even at your age you are not proof against a +preacher." + +"My dear, that's no argument," said his mother. "If you take to +platitudes about the sexes I have done. Yes, yes! Women have a +predilection for parsons and preachers, it's well known. I am seventy +years of age and as ugly as sin; but, no doubt, I am sentimental at +heart as any bread-and-butter miss, eh? and your remark quite applies. A +woman's easily blinded by pious pretences, and a man in love with his +neighbour's wife can't hit straight for squinting at her. There's +another generality to cap yours! Not at all to the point either, of +course. It's a foolish manner of talking." + +The old lady spoke with a spice of temper; and George laughed, but he +was angry too. + +He got up and threw his cigar into the fire. "I am going out for a bit. +I daresay I shan't be in for dinner; don't wait, please," said he. "I am +sick to death of the chatter about this trial. You can talk it over with +Lyddy and the Cohens without my assistance, can't you?" + +And he went out, leaving Mrs. Sauls to repent her indiscretion. She lost +the greatest pleasure of the week when her son didn't dine with her on +Saturday. Her tongue was occasionally a match for his, but she was +heavily handicapped by Nature; for, naturally, even so good a son as +George did not find in his mother, as she found in him, the chief joy +and object of existence! George was not in the least quick-tempered as a +rule, however; and their chaff seldom resulted in anything approaching a +huff. + +Mrs. Sauls sat on the stool of repentance till dinner time, when she +drank her best champagne--which was produced only when George was +expected--without tasting it, and found no savour in her dinner. + +Lyddy, loud and high-coloured, took George's place at the bottom of the +table, and "Uncle Benjamin" was pleased. Benjamin Cohen had snubbed +George in his nephew's youth; now times were changed, and old Benjamin +would have been glad to forget certain by-gones; but, unfortunately, +George had an excellent memory; consequently, the uncle liked Lyddy the +better of the two, though he entertained the greater respect for his +nephew. + +They discussed the trial in all its bearings, but Mrs. Sauls sat silent +and heavy. She was as great a talker as her son as a rule; but to-night +she contributed only one observation during the whole of the dinner. +When Benjamin Cohen remarked that he had heard that the defendant's +health had been quite broken down by the rough treatment he had +received, she observed that she had no opinion of preachers, and that no +doubt it served him right. + +After dinner, they played cards; and she lost heavily, and took no +pleasure in the game. Usually she was keenly interested; though it was +an understood thing, that when she won, the stakes were merely nominal, +and that when Benjamin won, they were _bonâ fide_. Mr. Benjamin swept +them up very comfortably to-night. + +The candles in the heavy gold candlesticks had burnt down pretty low +before the game showed any signs of ending. Lyddy played on the grand +piano at the further end of the big drawing-room; and her aunt, a faded, +gentle, little woman, dozed peacefully in an armchair. + +It was close on eleven o'clock when Mrs. Sauls' face visibly brightened; +she had heard George's step on the stairs. + +He came in and shook hands with his uncle, and kissed his aunt, to whom +he was always genuinely kind, and then came and leaned on the back of +his mother's chair, and overlooked her cards. + +"You are getting shamefully beaten, old lady!" said he. "You can't play +without me to advise you. Uncle Benjamin's more than a match for you." + +"I played before you were born, and even before you were thought of, my +dear," said Mrs. Sauls; but she knew, by the tone of his voice, that +George had forgiven the "generality" about neighbours' wives; and she +was her cheerful self again. + +He continued to stand there, commenting on her play, in a way that +irritated his uncle, but delighted his mother, who always loved to have +her son near her, and who, presently, became aware that he had some +secret cause of elation, and was very unusually excited. + +"Have you been winning to-night?" she asked; and he smiled as he stooped +over her, and touched the card she should play. + +"I've held trumps," he said. "The trumps were diamonds. Ah, you are +making a mistake, mother! You should not play hearts; you will give your +adversary a chance if you do that. Yes, I have been in luck to-night. +I've held all the diamonds, and had the game in my hands. Nothing to do +now but to win." + +"_You_ didn't give your adversary any chance, I'll be bound," said his +uncle. + +"No; I never do, sir," said George. + +Mrs. Sauls went on winning steadily now, with her son to back her. +George's luck seemed to infect her, but Benjamin waxed angry. + +Mrs. Sauls sent George away at last, unwillingly. "You are disturbing +your uncle, which is not fair. And really, you know, I don't require to +be taught how to suck eggs. Go away!" she cried. + +"Does it disturb you to be looked at, Uncle Benjamin? I beg your +pardon," said George politely; and retreated to the other end of the +room to chaff Lyddy, and amuse his gentle little aunt, who never could +understand why any one ever disliked dear George or thought him +sarcastic. + +"There!" said Lyddy yawning, when their guests had departed; "I thought +they were never going. Isn't it comical to see what a fuss George always +makes over poor Aunt Lyddy? I declare I believe he'll end by marrying +_that_ kind of simple, meek woman, though he flirts with the go-ahead +ones." + +"I wish he would!" said George's mother. "Your Aunt Lyddy is a good +woman--a much better woman than I am; though I must own," she added, +with an inflection of voice that was very like her son's, "that I +believe that's partly because she's too stupid to be anything else. But +George would be very kind to a----" + +"To a good little fool!" said Lyddy. "I really think he would. Well, are +you coming to bed?" + +"Presently," said Mrs. Sauls. But when Lyddy had gone, she went down to +the smoking room. + +"Ah! I thought your curiosity wouldn't keep till the morning!" cried +George, when she opened the door. + +"My dear! You've found the diamonds! Where are they?" + +He stretched out his hand, the locket lying on his palm face upwards. +"In my hands," he said. + +"And where were they, George?" + +"In that saint's!" He laughed, and laid it down on the table. "Mother! +you and I were too charitable; we thought he would draw the line at +that." + +He told her the whole story then, walking up and down the room while he +talked. He was very triumphant, and slightly flushed; she could have +fancied he had been drinking just enough to elate him, but that George +never drank; and, in spite of the triumph, the old woman's heart ached +for him. + +"You remember I told you that I had mislaid some papers?" he said. "I +recollected suddenly that I had left them at the governor's house, so I +went back there this evening; I found them. (I shall begin to say I am +led by the Spirit soon.) On leaving the house, I came upon that fine old +parson from Lupcombe. He wanted to cut me; he thought I had trumped up +the whole story about his pet preacher, out of personal spite, I +believe. He implied as much in the witness box, and I was determined to +have it out with him. Upon my word, mother, though I've small liking for +parsons, I like that one; he's a splendid old specimen. Well, the snow +came down hard on us and shortened our colloquy. He went on his way, +having delivered his mind as boldly as if he were safe in the pulpit, +where no man can answer him; and I was just crossing the road, when a +runaway cart came tearing along. I saw a woman, with a bundle in her +arms, slip as she tried to get out of the way. The roads are in a +fearful state; one might skate from here to the gaol; and the drifts of +snow were whirling up into our eyes. I caught the horse's bridle. The +wheels hadn't gone over the woman, but she was knocked down almost under +the brute's hoofs. I had to pick her up. She wasn't much hurt, I fancy; +only a good deal shaken, and a little bruised." + +He paused for a moment. Something in his voice had revealed to his +mother who the woman was. + +"You saved the preacher's wife!" she said. + +"I felt I ought to apologise for my presumption," said George. "But I +really couldn't help it. I--I didn't see who she was till she lay in my +arms." + +He put his head down on his hands for a second as he stood by the +mantelpiece. He could feel her in his arms still in the midst of that +whirling snow, her head on his shoulder for once, her eyes closed. + +"Tom Thorpe was with her; he was just a few steps in front. He turned +round when he heard me shout, and he caught the reins on the other side. +I left him to take her home. She is living close to the prison. I think +she hadn't time to realise that I had saved her, which was fortunate; +for she would possibly have preferred being killed. I had picked up the +bundle she was carrying, and had it still in my hand. I considered +whether I would run after them and give it to Tom Thorpe; but then I +thought I'd send it round by a servant to-night, and not force her to +speak to me. Modesty is always my strong point, you know. Besides, +though I am not thin-skinned, she has made me understand that,--what was +it?--that she'd rather take hot coals in her bare hands, than help from +me. So I took the bundle to my rooms, and--(observe the leading of the +Spirit again! I could preach a sermon on that subject to the preacher +now!)--I called Lucas to do up the things tidily, and take them. There +was a jersey, and a woollen shirt, and a cloth cap. I didn't want to +touch them. It was Lucas--not I--who found out. The cap had been torn, +her bundle had gone under the wheel; it was so torn that the lining was +loose. Lucas, bless his tidiness! took it up to brush off the dirt. In +brushing it, he felt something between the cloth and the lining. He put +in his fingers--he is always curious, but I'll allow that his curiosity +was inspired on this occasion--and he pulled out _this_ plum! It had +been lying safely _perdu_ for some time. If that pious man's leading +spirit hadn't rounded on him and taken to leading me instead, he would +have carried those diamonds on his revered head to all his meetings for +the next six months--supposing he got off, of which he had a good +chance. It would hardly have been safe to get rid of them in England; +but, perhaps, he would have had 'a call' to convert the sinners over the +Channel. He generally uncovers when he prays, doesn't he? otherwise, I +should think the diamonds would have touched him as a very 'direct and +sensible blessing,' and would have given great force to his petitions." + +"Don't, George!" said Mrs. Sauls quickly. "If the man was a hypocrite, +he'll swing for it; but that's no reason why you should blaspheme." + +"I? I am in an unusually religious frame of mind," said George. "Aunt +Lyddy told me to be thankful to Providence for my preservation just now; +and so I am, very. I've got my desire over mine enemy, which is a +Biblical source of congratulation! Barnabas Thorpe always says it's the +'Lord' when he takes what he wants. Let me follow that holy man's +example; if his 'Lord' has given him into my hand, it would be wicked +not to rejoice." + +"Do you suppose his wife knew that he had the diamonds?" interrupted +Mrs. Sauls. + +"No, I don't," said George. "It _would_ be blasphemy to suppose that." + +He was walking up and down again, but that question about the preacher's +wife sobered him a little; and presently he sat down, playing with her +locket in one hand and shading his face with the other. + +"And yet I don't know," he said. "She may have known--God knows--no! I +think it is the devil knows--what may happen when a woman is bound to +_such_ a saint. In any case it's not her fault." + +"But she will suffer if he's hanged," said Mrs. Sauls; and George looked +up. + +"Yes; she will," he said. "That's not my affair. The fool always suffers +with the knave, and the innocent with the guilty. I didn't make that +excellent universal law. But I am not so moonstruck as to let a rogue +off for the sake of a woman who won't touch me with a pair of tongs. +Why, mother, what do you take me for? What do you want? I've never known +you so unreasonable. Why shouldn't I bring a man to justice who has +tried to kill me? Who am I to upset heaven's decrees? Do you want me to +compound a felony? I believe you do! I am ashamed of you, old lady!" + +"I am a foolish old woman, my boy," said Mrs. Sauls. "Perhaps it's +because I am getting feeble and old now, that I can't bear to hear you +talk so." + +And George suddenly dropped the savagely bantering tone, and sat down on +the sofa beside her, and pulled her closer to him. "Nonsense! 'old and +feeble!'" he said. "There's not much feebleness about you, mother. I +say, you make me feel on a par with my uncle! My foot itches to kick him +when I hear him bullying Aunt Lydia. Have I been bullying you?" + +"No, my dear. You are quite the best son in all the world, and not in +the least like your uncle," said Mrs. Sauls. "Besides, you wouldn't find +me so easy to bully as your Aunt Lyddy, though I remember----" + +She did not say what she remembered; but George knew well enough. + +They both remembered some scenes that had probably helped to make George +the man he was, both for good and evil. Isaac Cohen had been a brutal +husband, and a tyrannical father, till the day when George discovered +that he was big enough to defend himself, and strong enough to prevent +his mother from being ill-treated--at any rate, in his presence. + +"Don't remember!" said Isaac's son. "My father is best forgotten. I hope +I don't remind you of him. If I do, I certainly ought to be heartily +ashamed of myself." + +It was a bitter thing to say of a father, but then the facts hadn't been +sweet; and his mother, at least, knew how much besides bitterness had +been developed by them. It was seldom that she referred to those days +that were past, but she had touched on them for a purpose now. Her son's +love for her had deepened with the necessity of protecting her; in +alluding to that, she knew that she was pulling at her strongest hold on +him. Certainly she was, as he called her, a clever old woman. + +"Perhaps I am unreasonable," she said. "Evidence is against the +preacher, and, as you say, he'll be convicted by the jury, not by you. I +should rejoice to see the man who tried to kill you on the gallows; but, +George, I still believe that _that_ man is innocent. Don't laugh again +and talk to me of heaven." + +"Well, I won't," said George; "for, in sober earnest, mother, I must say +that I think heaven has had precious little to do with the affair from +first to last. I am sure the preacher's marriage was concocted in the +other place. I should like to ask him what he thinks of personal +inspiration when he knows what I've found. But I won't quote his jargon +to you if it makes you sick. I allow it was my own luck and promptitude +that put into my hand the rope that will throttle him. After all, I've +always found myself the only safe thing to trust to!" + +"Very well, my son," said Mrs. Sauls. "But, if you respect nothing +beyond yourself, you must be careful not to lose that self-respect." + +George Sauls looked at her in surprise; his mother seldom spoke so to +him; for, with all their apparent frankness to each other, both had a +good deal of reserve, partly born of a horror of cant. She felt nervous +at having said so much, but he didn't laugh this time. + +"My dear mother, you are getting quite miserable; and neither I nor the +preacher, even supposing him to be as good as he looks, is worth that," +he said kindly. "I believe I've been holding forth like a stage villain; +but, after all, I am not meditating any villainies. Some one comes +behind me in the dark and tries to murder me; I have the man, who, I +believe, did it, arrested, and then a fortunate chance puts clinching +proof of his guilt into my hand. Naturally I shall produce it. As it +happens, I hated Barnabas Thorpe before; but I assure you that I should +act in precisely the same way if there had been no former quarrel +between us, and I should be quite right. I am doing nothing unfair; you +needn't be unhappy; I can't imagine why you are. I wish you would go to +bed, and forget the preacher. I can't think what makes you so soft about +him; you've heard of men being hanged before now. Look here, I've got a +lot of writing to do to-night, and don't want to have to sit up till the +small hours. To do that is very bad for my head, which ought to be of a +great deal more importance to you than Barnabas Thorpe's neck. +Good-night." + +He gave her a kiss as he spoke. She had been very foolish and unlike her +ordinary cheerful self to-day; but then he was aware that he too had +been rather excited, and his kiss was all the warmer because he had been +momentarily angry, and because she had called herself old and feeble. +Certainly her tenacity of purpose was not feeble. + +When her son stooped to kiss her, she made up her mind to gain her +point, and she appealed instinctively to the most vulnerable part of +George. He might be hard-headed, like his father, but he possessed +something that his father had lacked. + +"My boy, you are quite within your rights," she said. "But let me be +'unreasonable and soft' for once, and give me this fancy just because I +am your old mother and ask you for it." + +"What do you ask?" said George. "If it is anything on the preacher's +behalf, please don't ask it; for I don't like refusing you, and you +don't at all like being refused." + +This was not encouraging, but Mrs. Sauls persisted. There were few +things George wouldn't do for her, as she very well knew. + +"You are more to me than a hundred preachers," she said. "George, if +this man is hanged, I believe from my soul that you'll be sorry for it +one day. Oh, I know that you are doing nothing unfair; that you've every +right possible to produce those diamonds in court. I tell you, I own I +am unreasonable, and a silly old woman to-night; and yet, oh, my dear, +the idea haunts me that you will feel his blood on your head, because at +the bottom of your heart you hate the man, not because of that blow in +the dark, but because he has married the woman you want. Throw the +diamonds away. Give them back to Mrs. Thorpe. Let him escape. If he is +guilty, he'll suffer in the end, you may be sure. If he is innocent (and +since I have seen him I feel convinced that he is), you will be glad." + +She looked eagerly at him, but there was not a sign of yielding on +George's face. + +"I am not afraid of being haunted," he said; "though the preacher is +always so illogical that I quite allow it would be highly characteristic +of his ghost to try that game on me, if a jury justly convict him. No, +mother! Mrs. Thorpe should have kept the diamonds when she had them. She +won't get them back now. I hope to see him hang first. If he is +innocent, he must be able to explain how the stones got into his +possession; if he can explain and won't, he is a fool--to put it +mildly--I shan't frustrate justice to save him from the fruits of his +folly. I'm not his nurse to prevent the poor dear from cutting his +fingers when he plays with edged tools. Why on earth should I?" + +"Because I beg it of you as a favour," said Mrs. Sauls. "I don't often +try to interfere with you, do I? I do not like begging, even from my +son." + +"You would have had no need to beg in any other case," said George. And +she knew she had failed. + +"That you ask it is a very strong reason. Why, mother, it would be +strong enough to make me let off any other rascal in the world if he +were in my power." + +"But you won't let this man off--for my asking?" she said. + +"No, I won't," said George. "He robbed me of something I liked better +than diamonds--or even than _you_." + +"I'll say no more," said the old woman sadly. "But, my dear, I am +sorry." + +"Ah, well, if one can't get what one wants, one must want what one can +get," said George; and that soothing and virtuous-sounding maxim meant +(just then) that, having been denied the satisfaction of love, he was +making the most of the satisfaction of hate. + +"I generally do make the most of what I can get," he added cheerfully. +"It answers very well. Good-night. Don't be sorry for people, mother; +it's a mistake, and a great waste of power. Go to sleep comfortably, and +don't fret." + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + + Lead me, O Zeus, and thou, Destiny, whithersoever ye have appointed + me to go, and may I follow fearlessly. But, if in an evil mind I be + unwilling, still must I follow. + + --_Epictetus._ + + But honest men's words are Stygian oaths, and promises inviolable. + + --_Sir Thomas Browne._ + + +George Sauls was enjoying himself in Newgate. Not that he had either +fallen foul of the law, or been seized with the prevailing fashionable +craze that made the old prison a sensational sight for fine ladies and +gentlemen just then. He was playing cards in the infirmary, where the +political prisoners, whom justice treated tenderly and with great +respect of person, were making as merry as circumstances and the easy +politeness of the governor allowed. That official's own servants waited +on them, and the governor himself had taken a hand at whist. + +It was Sunday, and George wondered lazily whether Barnabas Thorpe was +preaching on eternal flames to those "unfortunate devils" who had been +sentenced to death during the preceding week. He wondered a good deal +about his enemy, finding it a puzzle, perhaps, to piece together the +preacher's actions, so as to make them form one consistent whole of +hypocrisy. George very naturally preferred to believe the man thoroughly +bad; it "simplified matters," as old Mr. Russelthorpe had remarked to +him years before. But he was not in the habit of letting himself be +hoodwinked by a personal feeling, even in this case; and his reason +gave him some trouble. + +He wondered how Barnabas would look when the diamonds were produced; +and, in spite of himself, failed when he tried to picture shame or guilt +on the preacher's face. He was to have a chance of satisfying his +curiosity sooner than he expected. + +That particular Sunday was marked by an attempted escape, which caused +some amusement to the governor and the prison officials, and the end of +which George witnessed. + +One of the prisoners belonging to the middle yard had mysteriously +disappeared--vanished into thin air, as it seemed; not from the yard, +which would have been comparatively comprehensible, but from the inside +of the ward itself. + +The governor threw down his cards and proceeded to the ward, Mr. Sauls +and another guest accompanying him. The turnkey explained eagerly how +utterly impossible it was for any one not gifted with the power of +sliding through keyholes to get out of the room, and yet how equally +impossible it was to find a hiding-place in it. + +The governor stood stroking his beard, and looking at ceiling, floor and +walls consecutively, till suddenly an idea struck him, and he gave the +order to pile up wood as high as possible, and light a big fire--with +brilliant results. + +The refugee bore being smoked so long that the circle round the fire, +which was blazing merrily, began to think their quarry was not there; +but down he came at last, falling so heavily that they were only just in +time to prevent his being badly burnt. + +The chimneys had just been grated at the top, but he had nearly filed +through the grating, when the smoke, blinding and suffocating him, had +loosened his hold, and brought him to earth, giddy and bruised and half +unconscious, amid a roar of laughter. + +The joke was of a rather brutal order possibly, and entirely one-sided; +but the man's blackened face and cut hands appealed to a sense of humour +which was coarser then than it is in these "softer" days; and even the +governor smiled. + +Only one man, one of the prisoners, remarked: "Jack is more nor a little +hurt; there ain't no need for that" (as they brought out handcuffs). +"He'll no' be able to try again anyway. Eh, take care! his back's +injured and that arm's broke." + +"He is right. The fellow has fainted," said the governor, bending down +to examine him. Every one else was pressing round the sooty figure on +the floor; but George turned at the sound of the voice raised on Jack's +behalf, and his eyes met the preacher's. + +He saw, more clearly than on the Saturday in court, how grey and worn +and bowed Barnabas was. A sort of exasperation came over George. It had +always made him angry, that, used as he was to rogues, this man's direct +glance impressed him against his will. He had not come to Newgate to +triumph over the preacher; for all his bitter words, George would hardly +have descended to that; but, as they stood face to face, the honesty, he +read in spite of himself, acted on him like a challenge. This man had no +_right_ to look so good! + +"I've found the locket!" George Sauls said suddenly, in a tone so low +that, in the general hubbub, only Barnabas heard him; at the same time +he watched narrowly to see whether the mask would drop, even for a +second. He had meant to startle, and he had succeeded so far; Barnabas +started visibly, and was first intensely surprised, then glad. + +That Timothy must have confessed was his first thought; then it occurred +to him that Mr. Sauls would hardly have been the bringer of good news; +and he looked at him searchingly. + +George resented the keen, grave question in those blue eyes, that had +overawed and compelled so many a culprit to confession. _He_ was not +going to be overawed. "They were found where, I conclude, you put them," +he said drily, answering the inquiry that had not been put into words. +"In the lining of your grey cloth cap. No doubt you had excellent +reasons for hiding them there, which you will explain to-morrow." And, +for a second, he saw in the preacher's face that sudden blaze of passion +that he had seen once before, when he had told him that "no doubt it was +convenient to turn the other cheek". + +It died away almost immediately, and Barnabas said sternly, with that +accent of undoubting certainty that was his especial characteristic:-- + +"When you say I put them there, you lie; but, if you've found them +there, that's evidence against me that I'll never be able to disprove. +I'll not explain." + +It was the same tone as that which had said, "I'll not fight with ye"; +and George felt, as he had felt before, when, under the spell of +Barnabas Thorpe's fanatical earnestness, he had half believed him +honest. + +"That, of course, is as you choose," he said. "I've given you fair +warning. Not that I told you in order to do that." + +"No," said Barnabas, with the sharp instinctive intuition of motive, +that combined curiously with the direct simplicity of his own character, +and was sometimes somewhat disconcerting. "Ye told me because ye wanted +to see how I'd take it, sir. I take it that it means I'll be convicted," +he added quietly. And George felt momentarily ashamed. + +"You've 'taken it' very well," he said. "You're no coward. I'd give +something to know, out of pure curiosity, _what_ you are. It is the +judge's business, not mine; but--as man to man--did you do it?" + +He laughed at himself, even while he asked the question; it was a +foolish one enough; but the preacher made no protestations. + +"Do you believe I did?" said he. "Ay--I see you do half believe it. Then +I've done ye a wrong; I thought ye didn't. There's been a deal between +us, and, happen, not much to choose from, i' the way o' hating. It's the +judge's business, as ye say. To his own master a man stands or falls. +It's to Him I'll answer." + +And George turned away. Barnabas was too proud to protest his innocence +to his enemy. If he would condescend to exonerate himself before no +judge but One--so be it. + +The conversation had been short. It had lasted a bare three minutes. It +is odd how much of hope and fear and passion can be crowded into three +minutes! + +The blazing fire the governor had ordered flung flickering lights over +the faces of the men gathered round Hopping Jack, whose slight, usually +agile form lay still enough now. + +It is an ill wind that blows no good; and, this bitter day, the fire was +comfortable. + +Some one had thrown water on Jack, which, trickling over his face, left +livid streaks and channels through the soot. + +Dr. Merrill's red head was bent over him. "He's very seriously hurt; +his back's broken," he said, as he knelt in the middle of the circle. +Jack opened his one eye, and said, "Am I dying?" + +The governor muttered that it was deucedly awkward. How was he to know +that the fellow would fall like that? And no one laughed any more; the +joke had ceased to be funny. + +"Come here, Thorpe," said the doctor. "You can help." And the preacher, +who had also heard a death warrant, came and knelt by the man's side. + +"Ay--I thought as much!" he said. "He's about done for." And the +gentlemen went away rather silently. + +"That big grey-haired chap with the very blue eyes is the one you want +to see hang, isn't he?" said the governor, when they got outside. "I saw +you watching him while he was helping the doctor." + +"I was admiring the steadiness of his hand," said George. "I own mine +might have shaken a little in the circumstances." + + * * * * * + +It was very dark. A black fog wrapt the city in gloom, and the cheerless +cold was intense. Barnabas Thorpe sat on the floor in a corner of the +ward, with Jack's head resting against him. + +The preacher had seen Death often enough in one guise or another. He +believed him to be coming close,--not only to the poor soul he, +Barnabas, was doing his best to support, but to himself. + +Now he knew what his presentiment had meant; his horror of London was +justified. + +He sat facing the situation, with his lips set hard. He had always held +his life lightly, and had risked it oftener than most men; but, all the +same, he had a good healthy love of it, and would have liked to fight +hard for it; and the disgrace touched him. The Thorpes had always held +their heads high. Poor Tom!--and Margaret! A short sharp sound broke +from his lips at that last thought. Could he let Margaret go? + +"I say, do you think I'll cheat the hangman?" said Jack. + +"I do," said Barnabas. "Do you want some water? How dark it is!" + +He could hardly see Jack's face. The man was sinking fast, and the +preacher was glad of it! For once, he had no desire to cure. Better that +the poor fellow should die in comparative peace here, than watched by a +mob outside; and on the gallows. After all, a man can die but once! He +held the cup to Jack's lips; lifted him as tenderly as a woman might +have, then laid him down again. + +After all, a man can only die once! Yes,--and he can live on earth only +once, to hold the woman he has chosen in his arms, and to win the +sweetness of her love. + +In heaven he might, maybe, hear the songs of the just made perfect; but, +sinful man that he was, surely his heart would still ache through all +their celestial music for what he had never heard,--the sound of his +name on her lips with the accent of earthly love in it! Ah, and he had +never once so much as kissed her! + +His life was worth more than that crime-stained idiot's. If he betrayed +him for Margaret's sake! For Margaret's sake! the words shamed him. + +If he sinned for her, then he would give the lie to all his life. He +would prove his enemy right; he would surely show that it had been for +selfish desire, not for the saving of her fair soul, that he had taken +her. For Margaret's sake! how durst the devil tempt him with her name? + +"Good Lord, deliver me!" he cried. But it seemed to him that the very +bitterness of death was upon him. To let her go! before ever he had won +her! never more to have part or lot in anything that might befall her! + +He had trusted in his God, and his God had mocked him; filling his heart +with this unsatisfied love. Other men got their desires and---- + +"Preacher, shall you preach to-day in the yard?" said Jack. + +"No; I've no call to preach to-day. I can't," said Barnabas. + +Perhaps he had never had a call; perhaps everything was a mistake from +beginning to end. If so, then indeed he _had_ been a fool; he might, at +least, have eaten and drunk, for to-morrow---- + +"Then you won't leave me," said Jack. "I say, I can't feel anything +below my waist, ain't that queer? The governor did me a good turn; for I +hadn't much chance of getting clear off, anyhow, even if there 'adn't +been them cursed gratings; and now I've cheated them." And he laughed +weakly. "I'd like you to stick close by me at the end; but don't preach +too much, 'cos I mean to die game. I meant to do _that_ anyhow. If it +'adn't been for you, I'd have finished myself; but I owed you one. How +cold it is!" + +Barnabas slipped off his jersey to wrap round the man. He knew well +enough that no amount of warm clothing would affect that creeping cold; +but, at least, it was a way of expressing human sympathy. + +Then the fight in his own soul went on again. The preacher's face looked +grey in the darkness--the darkness was dark enough. + +Was it all a mistake? The waters were going over him. + +"I wish you'd light a match. There's one hidden under the rug," said +Jack; "and put it between your teeth and lift me a bit; I want to see +you." + +"That 'ull do ye no good," said Barnabas; but he did as he was asked. +The match flickered up between the dying man's face and his own; the +loneliness that pressed on his soul, as the thick darkness on his +eyeballs, seemed momentarily lightened; then the flame went out. + +"Thank 'ee--that will do," said Jack. "It makes a man feel queer to know +he's going out, and lonesome like." + +"Are you in much pain?" asked Barnabas; he had grown fond of Hopping +Jack. + +"No; it's the first time it's held off me for weeks," he said. "I say, +preacher--I ain't going to whine about my sins, they're past praying +for; but I wish I hadn't gone in for that work in the yard when we set +on you. When one's always got a kind of grinding pain going on inside +one, it kind of drives one to play the fool badly. Dr. Merrill says it's +something with a queer name that begins with a 'K' was the matter with +me, and it sarved me right. I wish he'd got it! Preaching always riled +me, and that day it was bad, and you looked so strong. It were partly +that that aggravated me." + +"I see. I was very strong," said the preacher, a good deal touched by +this odd confession. "Happen it made ye envious. Never mind, Jack, +that's past." + +"No, it ain't," said Jack. "You're a different sort to me, and don't +bear malice; but it's made you another man. It hurt you to lift me with +two hands just now; you could have lifted me with one finger before we +did that. If the Lord you're so sure about _is_ there, He oughtn't to +forget; but without that (for it ain't any good thinking of what's +coming), I wish I hadn't had a hand in it." + +He paused for breath, looking up wistfully at the preacher, whose face +he could no longer make out, and finding it difficult to express +penitence without showing the white feather. "Mind you, it ain't nothing +to do with heaven or hell," he said confusedly. "I'm only sorry 'cos it +was _you_." + +"Ye've made it up to me, Jack," said the preacher. "Ye told me just now +ye wouldn't kill yourself for my sake. I ain't much, God knows; but my +preaching would ha' meant just nothing at all, if I didn't hold that +worth some bruises." + +He was feeling his feet again; after all, that was worth something. + +"It's a precious odd making up," said Jack. "And I can't see why the +devil it's any odds to you whether I did or not; but I know it is! I +say, when _you_ get to heaven, you might say that, eh?" + +"Say what?" said Barnabas. + +His brain was confused between the strong love of life, or rather of +Margaret, that he was trying to fight down in his own soul (it was like +fighting an inflowing tide), and the other strong impulse to help, that +had been a ruling habit of years. + +"Why, that I had a try to make up. No one else will speak for me, you +may bet on that! And even you won't be able to make it amount to much, +but--come--say you'll remember me, if there is anything the other side. +Swear you'll not forget. I shouldn't believe any one else, if they swore +till they burst; but you'd stick to anything you'd said. I won't funk. I +won't have that fat parson pray for me. If God's alive, He ain't such a +soft one as to be squared by a few snivellin' prayers at the end; but +I'd like you to remember me. Whatever comes, it seems as if you'd be +something to hold to." + +And the preacher bowed his grey head on his hands. He had been preached +to, to some purpose. + +In the midst of the darkness he saw again the figure of his Master +crucified, with a thief on the right hand and on the left. + +"It's not to _me_ you must say that!" he cried. "Not to me, who am a +most cowardly and unprofitable servant. But, oh, my Lord, remember +_us_--when Thou comest into Thy kingdom!" And, with that, the darkness +in his soul cleared. + +Jack's mind wandered after that; he kept spouting bits out of some play +that Barnabas had never heard of, and aping feebly all sorts of +characters, chiefly kings and princes (the fellow had evidently been a +reader at one time). Then the feeble voice grew fainter, and presently +he slept. During his sleep he effectually escaped, neither grating nor +gaolers having power to stay him this time. + +His _rôle_ was played out, and delivered up to the Author of potentates +and beggars; of the few who succeed, and the many who fail. Barnabas +closed Hopping Jack's eyes gently--having a weak place in his own +composition for failures--then stood upright. + +"I must preach this evening," he said. "I ha' much to say, an' th' time +is short." + +The men were not allowed to go into the yard lest there should be more +attempts to get out under cover of the yellow fog. Barnabas preached in +the ward, therefore; and Dr. Merrill, coming in at five o'clock, found +Jack dead, and the others congregated round the preacher. + +The red-haired surgeon watched the scene, with the half admiring +irritation that Barnabas Thorpe's proceedings were apt to produce in +him. + +He glanced round at the degraded types of humanity that surrounded +Barnabas, and said to himself (as he had often said before) that one +might as well try to make sweet bread with salt water as to make a man +of an habitual gaol bird. Yet, there was something fine, though +irrational, in a faith that saw possibilities even here! + +"I am persuaded that neither death nor life, nor angels, nor +principalities, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor any other +creature can separate us from the love of God," cried the man, whose +intense conviction held this motley throng of rogues. + +And the "life" he had in his mind was the evil life of that hotbed of +crime, and the "death" that most inglorious and miserable death on the +gallows that awaited many of his hearers. While he listened, Dr. Merrill +became convinced that Barnabas believed himself about to die. His keen +eyes watched the preacher narrowly, and he noted the exhaustion that +followed the sermon. Barnabas dropped wearily on to a bench when he had +finished speaking, and rested his head on his hands. The doctor went up +to him, and tapped him sharply on the shoulder. + +"Have you made up your mind to be hanged? If so, you should be ashamed +of yourself!" he said. "You've plenty of pluck when it's a case of +risking your life. Why on earth do you throw up the sponge so +confoundedly easily, when it is a case of saving it?" + +"I've nought to say about it, an' what comes next is out o' my hands," +said Barnabas. "Yesterday the chances seemed on th' side of my being +acquitted; but som'ut's happened since then, an' I know the verdict +'ull be th' other way now. Ay, I've made up my mind. Jack died an hour +ago, sir. I was glad on it." + +"He had a piece of luck at the last," said the doctor. "But what has +happened since yesterday that you should despair?" + +"I doan't despair, nor for Jack, nor for myself," answered the preacher. + +And Dr. Merrill grunted impatiently. Barnabas never had much inclination +to confide in his own sex. + +"You were never in the same boat with Jack. He was guilty, and the +gallows tree was his natural goal. You come of an honest stock, and, if +you're convicted, it will be through your own stupidity," said the +doctor. "Come, Thorpe, of course you have an inalienable right to be a +fool, if you choose; but, does it never strike you that it will be hard +on your friends if you are sentenced?" + +"Do ye suppose I've not thought o' all that?" said Barnabas doggedly. "I +doan't knaw that I want to talk to 'ee about it, sir." + +"No; you are mighty impatient of other people's sermons, but you'll +listen to me before I've done with you," said the doctor. "You made a +precious bad defence! Can you swear to me that you know nothing beyond +what you've said in court? Aha! I thought you couldn't!" + +"Why should I swear aught to 'ee?" said Barnabas. "I'm not asking +advice, nor needing it. All the same," he added, after a moment, "I +ought to thank ye for believing in me." + +"Believe in you! I believe on my soul that you've got some +crack-brained, pernicious notion that will lead you to slip your neck +into a noose that was made for some one else, and that you'll find a bit +too tight; now, for the sake of that unfortunate wife of yours----Hallo, +you are attending to me now!" + +"What ha' ye had to do wi' her? Is she ill? For God's sake, go on an' +tell me about her, an' I'll listen to th' rest after," said the +preacher. And the anxiety in his voice was so sharp that the doctor with +a shrug of his shoulders complied. + +"She had been knocked down by a cart, and she sent her brother-in-law to +fetch me to bind up a scratch on her wrist. At least, that was the +ostensible reason for my visit. As a matter of fact, she wanted to +wheedle me into letting her see the inside of Newgate. No; she wasn't +hurt; but it must be a nice state of things for her when her natural +protector has to ask me whether she's ill or well! If I had a +wife--which, thank Heaven, I have been preserved from--I should not +sacrifice her to any skulking sneak. Poor woman! she nearly went on her +knees to me, to persuade me to smuggle her in." + +Barnabas winced. He hated to think that Margaret had pleaded to any man. +Margaret, who, for all her gentleness, was so proud! It touched him to +the quick too; did she want to see him so much? + +As for the doctor, he was somewhat of the opinion of Meg's old friend, +Sir Thomas Browne, who "cast no true affection on a woman," but "loved +his friend as he loved his virtue or his God". There were plenty of +pretty women in the world; and his indignation on Mrs. Thorpe's behalf +was perhaps not very deep; but he knew what he was about. This fanatic +held his wife ridiculously dear, and her misery might break his +stubbornness. + +"Doctor," said Barnabas hoarsely, "can't ye do it? I'd give moast +anything (but I've naught to give) to ha' my lass once more wi' no bars +between us. I've that to tell her which is hard to say wi'out I have her +close to me! If ye'll do that for us----" + +He stammered, and broke off his sentence, from very powerlessness to +express the full strength of his desire. Dr. Merrill, looking critically +at him, saw that the man's face was working with the earnestness of his +passion--he was not one who could entreat easily. + +"I'll do it somehow," the doctor said slowly, "if--if you'll cease being +such a mad idiot. Who is guilty?" + +"Ye must e'en answer your own riddles; an' if _that's_ the 'if' I must +do wi'out her," said Barnabas; and the doctor shrugged his shoulders +again. + +"I give up! Your obstinacy beats mine, preacher." He got up from the +bench where he had seated himself beside Barnabas, but still lingered a +moment. + +"There's a poor creature in the condemned cell who wants to see you. +It's against rules, but I have got leave to take you there. Will you +come?" + +"Of course," said Barnabas. + +They walked together through the long passages. Barnabas shivered; it +was cold, and Jack was still wrapped in his jersey. + +The doctor eyed him inquiringly. "What on earth shall you find to say to +some one in a condemned cell?" he asked. + +"That God's mercy is greater than man's. That we can kill, but He can +make alive," said Barnabas. The doctor slid something into the gaoler's +hand as the key turned. "Now, good luck to the sermon; but it mustn't be +long," said he. + +But the preacher, with a cry, held out his arms. + +A woman! no terrified criminal driven to a so-called "repentance" by the +approach of death--a woman, with love, not fear, in her eyes, turned +quickly to him! + +"Margaret! Margaret!" he cried. Then he put his hand under her chin, +and lifted her face that had been hidden against his arm. "Margaret!" + +He had told her once that he, who had never taken her liking for love, +would know when he saw the difference. He knew now. Here, in the +condemned cell, in the ante-chamber of death, he saw _that_, at last, +which he believed deathless; that for which his soul had hungered. + +"Have I found ye?" he said. And she, putting her arms around him, lifted +her lips to his, and kissed him,--a kiss solemn as a sacrament. + +"Yes! You have found me!" she said. + +The doctor shut the door gently from the outside. + +"If it's to be done, _she'll_ do it." + + + + +CHAPTER X. + + O lover of my life, O soldier saint, + No work begun shall ever pause for death. + + +"I thought I'd ha' to die without this," said Barnabas. "Now--I am +content." + +He was sitting on the bench under the narrow barred window, which was +high above their heads. The winter sun was setting through a lifting +haze of fog; it threw a faint red gleam on the stone wall, and touched +the heads of the man and woman who were making love in the condemned +cell. Is there any place, short of the grave, where men have never made +love? + +"Hush!" said Meg. "_We_ have met life, not death, to-day." + +The last occupant of this place had been hanged, the next poor wretch +would be waiting execution. The thought struck coldly on her. + +"Oh, Barnabas! I have never feared death before," she cried; "for I did +not understand what life means." And the preacher, looking at her, knew +she spoke truth. This vivifying passion had sent a stronger tide through +her veins. Happiness, new-born, was in her face, and the fresh wonder at +that everlasting miracle which changes our water into wine. + +"All the world seems new!" cried Margaret. "But other people have to +die. And some of them never know what this means; and some, knowing, +leave it all behind. Barnabas, to-morrow you will be free, and I shall +be by your side, and all the happiness that is ours shall make us strong +to help. I will help as I never did before!--Oh, I am so sorry for +them." + +"Ay, sweetheart; ye may well be that," he said. + +The minutes were flying by. He must tell her. Her head was on his +shoulder, her hands were in his,--hands so delicate that one of his held +both. He remembered how their smallness had touched him, long ago. + +"I ha' ta'en ye by rough ways, an' ye'll ha' a hard time; though I meant +to shelter ye all I could." The pain in his voice made her cling closer +to him. + +"It is my turn to say to you, 'It is worth while,'" she whispered. "What +does it matter now how rough the road is? we will tread it together." + +"But, if we are not together? My little lass, if we are not together? +Will ye say that then? It is true! Ay--God help me--I believe it; but +will ye think so too?" + +"Whatever comes now, I will think so too!" said Margaret. She smiled as +she spoke, ominous though his words were. She forgot to be afraid, in +her womanly longing to comfort him. + +"What do you think is coming? Do you fancy that the verdict will go +against you?" she asked steadily. "But that cannot be! Would _He_ desert +you?" + +"No," said Barnabas. "Not though the sky should fall, or I forget ye." +And he put the last as the more impossible marvel of the two. + +"But there's no want o' faith in believing that one may ha' to leave +one's body behind a bit afore the natural time. I've som'ut to tell ye, +Margaret. It's best to face it. I'd liefer ye heard it now, than +to-morrow i' th' court." + +"Go on," said Meg. And with his arms round her he told her. Meg listened +silently when he described his interview with his enemy. "He must ha' +overhauled my things somehow, though I doan't know how he got hold on +'em," he said. "Ye see that must go against me. I can't explain it." He +spoke steadily, and not despairingly,--he had conquered his despair. The +fight had been fought; the "black minute" was at an end for him. It +might be hard,--harder than the actual wrench of parting soul and body +would be,--to part from her; but he could do it now. To relinquish Meg +unwon had indeed taxed severely the fortitude of the man who had once +told her that he desired no peace in heaven, unless she were happy too; +but this love, awake at last, he believed to be his now to all eternity; +and, indeed, with an "all eternity" in view, they might well afford to +lose a few score years. + +"I don't understand," said Meg, in a voice she tried to keep from +trembling. "Mr. Sauls found the diamonds in your cap. Ah, I let that +drop with the other things I was bringing you, and he must have picked +it up. He saved me too. One would rather not be saved by such a--oh +well, it isn't worth while to think of him with you beside me; but how +did the diamonds get there?" + +"They were hidden by the man who knocked Mr. Sauls down and robbed him," +said the preacher. "I _was_ a fool, Margaret! The man told me where they +were, an' I thought it was just a mad fancy. It never came to me to take +my knife and rip up the lining; I just shook it, an' seeing naught, +flung it in a corner where it stayed. Ye see, I didn't wholly credit his +story. It was all so mixed up wi' delusions. One minute he was seein' +Mr. Sauls' double at th' foot o' his bed, beckoning him to hell, an' th' +next he were raving about diamonds bein' on fire an' burning him, an' +the next he were pouring out such sickening confessions as I think the +devil himself must ha' been prompting his tongue to. No man could ha' +committed all the sins he told of. An' the longing to deliver him fro' +Satan was strong on me, an' he kind o' clung to me, as if he was bein' +hunted, an' I promised him I wouldn't betray him. One can't allus be +thinking what 'ull be the consequences to onesel' when a poor soul turns +to one in mortal terror." + +"And you will keep your promise at any cost to yourself--and to me?" +said Meg. + +"Little lass, ye wouldn't ha' me _not_ keep it!" he cried. He turned his +head away for a moment. Was even Meg against him? Dr. Merrill had told +him that he sacrificed his wife to a skulking sneak; did she think so +too? He looked at her with an involuntary sad entreaty that none but Meg +had ever seen in his eyes. + +He was used to being considered rather mad. Truth to tell, being in a +minority troubled him little as a rule; but, for once, the pain of +loneliness touched him very sharply. + +"Dear heart, do 'ee think I doan't care for 'ee?" he said. "I'd give my +soul, if it were only that, for yours. But one must follow where one's +Master calls. Would ye ha' me such a cowardly hypocrite, that having in +His name bid ye give up the world for Him, I should mysel' shrink from a +path where there's only room for one? Would ye ha' me break a promise, +gi'en in this service, because keeping it means shame and death? Shame +for ye too, for ye too! Forgi'e me, if ye can't think me right," he +cried sadly. "Oh, my little lass, I wish I could bear it all! It cuts me +like a knife when I think it means shame for you. It's the sore part." +He caught his breath sharply, and Meg felt his arm tremble for a moment. +Then: "But I'd not say that to any one else," he said. "Ye are like my +own soul, an', even to you, I'll not say it again. It's a bit mean o' me +to cry out so. When I took service I didn't promise to follow the Master +only so long as I could on velvet. I've no need to complain; an' ye +mustn't say He deserts us because He treats us like men, an' takes us at +our word. Yet"--and again his face softened--"if ye _could_ think with +me--but, happen, that's ower much to expect." + +His voice, ringing with the eager loyalty which was so large a factor in +his religion, then breaking into human tenderness, ceased. He could not +see her face, for she sat with it hidden against him. He touched her +fair head gently, with his hand. "Poor little lass!" He could not put +into words the remorseful tenderness he felt. He hoped she would not try +to dissuade him; it could make no difference, but he found Meg's grief +hard to bear. + +"Happen that's ower much to hope for?" he said again softly, but with +more wistfulness than he knew. "But I'd like ye to forgive me, Margaret, +any way. Will ye do that, if ye think me wrong?" His voice sank to a +whisper she barely caught. "The temptation was sore, but if I'd loved ye +less it ha' been stronger; for I'd not ha' felt it so shameful then to +drag that love i' the mud. Margaret, say _something_ to me." + +Then she lifted her head and answered him--such an answer as no human +soul had given his before. + +"You are right!" she said. "Except that you ask me to forgive you. +Forgive what? Shame? I am not ashamed. Do you think I shall not be +prouder of you than if all the world were at your feet? I have never +been ashamed of you. Never once! Even when I didn't love you, I knew +better than that! Ashamed! I will try to be a little sorry for the +blindness of all the people who did not know you innocent, who cannot +tell light from darkness! if you like, dear,--if you like--but there is +no shame for you, or for me, who am yours." + +Ah, had ever the condemned cell echoed to such words before? such +passionate vibrating love, and pride of love? + +"If you had betrayed a man for me, then you might have said, 'forgive +me,'" she cried. "But you couldn't do that; you would not be you, if you +did! The Barnabas I love could never do it! Yes, then I should have been +ashamed--bitterly ashamed, perhaps. Then our love would be in the mud +indeed. Not now!" + +"I allus knew ye a brave woman, my lass," said the preacher. "Happen I +never knew it quite enough!" But Meg clung to him again, choking back a +sudden desire to sob. + +"Ah! but we shan't be parted!" she cried. "It can't be! it can't be! +Barnabas, say to me that it can't be." + +"Ay, wi' all my heart," he said. "Margaret, I believe, as I believe in +my God, that no pain nor death can part us two for ever. It _can't_ be! +Ye are mine now. By the love God has given me for ye, an' by the love ye +bear for me, my sweetheart, I'll swear to ye that I hold the old enemy +not strong enough to part us. It can't be." + +But, for all the hot love in them, his words went through her like a +sword: he was bidding her look to the life everlasting, when she wanted +him here, and now. They both sat silent for a few minutes, precious +minutes! how fast they went! + +"I had so much to say," he said. "I'd a deal to tell ye; but, somehow, I +can't remember it now. I want to hear ye say once more, 'I love ye'. +I've wanted for it so long! Nigh on two years I've hungered for it. An' +I've not pressed ye, have I, Margaret?" + +And there came across Meg as he spoke the remembrance of those two +years. How many times had he crushed back this deep, fierce love for +fear of "scaring" her, cold-hearted as she had been? And now, perhaps, +there might be only minutes left to give in, though there had been +months in which to deny. + +"I love you," she said. "With all my soul and heart and mind and +strength; with all of me there is; with more of me than I ever knew +there was. I didn't know I _could_ love like this. As you love me, I +love you, my dearest. You are more to me than all in heaven and all on +earth besides. I would rather die with you than stay here without you. +Ah, how feeble one's words are, for, _of course_, I would rather! that +would be easy enough. If I have to live without you, I am still yours. +While I am, I--I love you. If this can die, there is no life that lives! +It is the most living part of me. If this grows cold, then I am dead. +Barnabas, I love you, I love you! Do you know it _now_?" + +"Time's up!" said the doctor, putting in his head. "Have you brought him +to his senses at last, ma'am? I hope so." + + * * * * * + +She stood outside again in the snow. The doctor was talking eagerly. + +"I am convinced that your husband is keeping something back," he said. +"He knows more than he will say. I hope you have preached a sermon +to-day to good purpose. He won't listen to mine." + +"I told him he was right," said Meg; and the doctor swore. + +"Then, let me tell you, you've encouraged him in a most immoral course," +he said, "and in one that leads straight to the gallows! It's no time +for picking one's words--and--well, here's the truth. You had a chance +of saving him, if any one had,--which I doubt, for a more pig-headed +saint I've never come across--you had the only chance. You might at +least have tried; and you've lost it!" + +In his heart he was saying angrily, what did she suppose she had been +smuggled in for--to talk sentiment? If Thorpe had married some lusty, +rosy-cheeked barmaid, she'd have been of more good. She would have cried +heartily and scolded; his high-flown nonsense wouldn't have had a +hearing; it might have been swamped in her tears and in his natural +instinct. Mrs. Thorpe's eyes were dry. Pshaw! she was only half a woman! +He hadn't an exalted opinion of the other sex anyhow; but, at least, he +preferred them "womanly". Little fool! if she couldn't cry on occasion, +what _was_ she capable of? He couldn't quite say that aloud, though. Meg +was no barmaid, and not an easy person to be rude to. + +"I am very grateful to you for letting me in," she said. "I think my +husband _is_ right, so what else could I say? But, if I had thought him +wrong, I could have made no difference, practically--only," said Meg +softly, "it would have been rather harder for him." + +"Rather harder! he'll find being choked out of life with a rope rather +harder; but you know your own affairs best, I suppose," said the doctor. +"Good-night, ma'am;" and he turned away, and Meg walked on alone. + +"He'll find being choked out of life rather harder!" Meg felt as if +Doctor Merrill had roughly shaken her awake. When she had been with +Barnabas his unwonted appeal for spiritual sympathy, his faith in the +undying quality of their love, his belief in the impossibility of an +eternal parting had somehow hidden from her the physical horror of such +a death. The doctor had brought it before her, had made her see the rope +and the coffin, and the actual death struggle. She saw it so vividly, +poor woman, with that over-vivid imagination that had always been her +bane, that, as she walked, she held out her hands instinctively. + +"Don't, don't!" she cried. "He has been hurt enough. I can't bear him to +be hurt any more!" She did not know that she had spoken aloud, till some +one passing put a hand on her arm. + +"Mrs. Thorpe! may I see you home? You are ill, or very unhappy." + +It was the parson from Lupcombe, the preacher's friend. Meg, standing +still, recognised him. + +"Did I say something?" she asked. "Yes--I am unhappy; but you can't help +me, thank you. Don't try to, please. Only God can help." + +The parson, looking at her, bared his white head. + +"It is true," he said. "There are times when only He can help." And he +let her go, but went on his own way with a sigh. + +"Poor thing, poor thing!" he said to himself. "Saints are all very well, +but they've no business to marry." + +The interruption made Meg aware that she must have been looking rather +strange. Tom would see at once that she had had bad news, and she could +not tell him yet. She wanted to collect her thoughts, to repeat to +herself what Barnabas had told her, coolly, without his over-strong +influence, that made her see everything just as he saw it. Coolly! but +the time had passed when Meg could think coolly of suffering to him. + +A church door stood open (oddly enough, for the church in those days, +except at stated times of service, was harder to enter than the prison). +The darkness and silence invited Meg. She turned into it, thankful for a +quiet place to hide her troubled face in; and walking up the aisle, took +refuge in the high curtained pew which was used by the Mayor and +Corporation when they honoured St. Matthew's with their presence. + +She drew the curtains close, then sat down on a hassock, and buried her +face in the red bombazine cushions. + +She went over the whole interview again. It was her doing that the +diamonds had been found. If only she had not been knocked down and not +let Mr. Sauls pick up her bundle! It was like him to take prompt +advantage. While she sat in the dark, Meg clenched her hands with the +wild desire to kill George Sauls. If Barnabas were hanged how could _he_ +be allowed to live? Then she crushed that mad anger down again; it was +her fault. She had persuaded her husband to come to London. She had left +him alone while she nursed her father, she--what had the doctor said? +She had lost the last chance of saving him, but _that_ had not been from +want of love. In her soul she knew she had never loved him more than +when she had told him he was right. She knew it; for it was his soul +hers loved,--a disgrace that touched that would be disgrace indeed. + +"And yet--ah, it isn't only that," sobbed Meg. "Barnabas may go on +loving me in heaven; but I want him, spirit and body both, on earth." + +She clenched her hands, and pressed her face down on the cushion, +struggling with the sobs that rose in her throat. Alas! it did not +comfort her to think of a disembodied spirit, however perfect, when she +was longing for her own living husband. She loved his faults as well as +his virtues; she loved him wholly and completely--as he was: the accent +with which he spoke, the very look of the brown hands toil-roughened. In +the mortal agony of that parting, visions of heaven would _not_ support +her womanhood. "God have mercy on us, have mercy on us!" cried Margaret. +"Have mercy, Thou who hast made us what we are! who hast given us souls +and bodies both." + +She must not fail him in any case; _that_ thought braced her again. If +the worst should happen, she must be by him. Could she bear to see it? +Meg asked herself, and found the answer clear enough. Yes, she both +could and would--and she would have no tears then. + +"But oh, if it might be that I might bear it all!" she cried in her +heart, with the cry which is old as love itself. + +"Lord, let the pain be mine--if only my darling may go free!" Deepest, +most fervent prayer of all humanity!--prayer that seems as if it must +pierce the veil and force an answer, that is born of our holiest +instincts, and has in it the sacrifice that is in motherhood;--prayer +that how many women's lips have prayed since the beginning of the world! + +"Mine be the pain! Ay; and the sin and the shame too," we cry, knowing +that the cry is futile; for who shall deliver his brother? Surely love +has been crucified since love first was! + +"Ah, it is no wonder, no wonder that God died upon a cross," thought +Meg; "if He loves as we love, where else could _our_ God be?" + + * * * * * + +"If you ask my opinion, I should say that you had better put up a +triangle," said a decided voice at the far end of the church. The vestry +door slammed, and there was a sound of footsteps on the stairs--quick +brisk footsteps--treading over the "Hic Jacets". + +"Mr. Muller says that a cross is popish; and you think the commandments +Low Church, don't you? or is it old-fashioned? Well, try a triangle. It +won't mean anything. Now, that's an advantage to start with; you can't +quarrel so much over a purely secular symbol." + +"Now, Mr. Sauls!" (a giggle), "if you say such things, I declare we'll +set you to work as a punishment. Isn't Mr. Sauls too bad, Ethel? Oh, +there comes Mr. Simkyns at last. Please light the candles, Mr. Simkyns." + +The speaker was a plump bright-complexioned girl, who, with her sister, +stood, with arms full of holly, looking over the berries at Mr. Sauls, +who, however, had not the least intention of being beguiled into +assisting at Christmas decorations, an amusement not at all in his line. + +"I came to find an entry in the register for 1802 that bears on a case I +am interested in," he said. "I didn't mean to interrupt your good work; +and, since you won't be grateful for my advice, I'll take myself off." + +"Oh, we are only going to sort the ivy and holly, ready to begin +to-morrow. It was all in a heap in the vestry. We hadn't an idea you +were there, had we, Ethel? But we'll forgive you this time; you may +stay, if you like." + +"Ah, thanks; but I won't put your generosity to too severe a test," he +rejoined drily. + +The candles were lighted now; the quiet solemnity of the place was gone. +On one side of the red curtains a woman in bitterest agony had prayed +for her husband's life; on the other, the girls laughingly pricked +their fingers with holly leaves, and tried hard to flirt with Mr. +Sauls. + +"Mr. Sauls doesn't believe much in the generosity of our sex; do you, +Mr. Sauls?" said the second girl, with another giggle and an upward +glance. + +"Pardon me," said George, "I've the most exalted reverence for it; +that's why I refrained from putting it to vulgar proof. It is always +unwise to test one's pet ideals; the results are apt to be disastrous, +particularly to men of a naturally quixotic and sentimental turn, like +myself; I never do it, on principle. That's why I've arrived at mature +age with all my little high-flown illusions so intact. You wouldn't like +to upset any one's principles, would you, Miss Miller? No, I thought +not. Good-evening then." + +Miss Miller, during this speech, had looked as if she were not quite +sure whether she was expected to laugh or not. At the last words her +face fell; she threw the holly down pettishly as Mr. Sauls left the +church. + +"What's the use of going on? I hate Christmas decorations! And I've +pricked myself," she cried. "Oh, what's that?" + +She gave a little shriek, as the red curtain was pushed aside. + +"I beg your pardon. I am afraid I have startled you," said Meg gently. +"I did not know that any one else was in the church when I came in. I +came to--to rest. I am going now." + +"_We_ will go; we have disturbed you; I wish we hadn't come in and +chattered and laughed," cried the girl impulsively. She was very +soft-hearted; and this pale fair woman somehow impressed her, she hardly +knew why, with a sense of tragedy. "I am so sorry, but we'll go. Come, +Ethel, let's go." + +But Meg had already walked quickly down the aisle, and opened the church +door. In the act she looked back at the two bright-faced girls clinging +together, still a little startled, under the candles, with the scarlet +berries at their feet. + +"No, don't be sorry," she said. "I am very glad you came in, for now I +know what to do. You needn't be sorry; but I should put up a cross if I +were you, even though it means a good deal." + +The church clock was striking the half-hour, the lamps were lighted; it +was too cold to snow hard, but a few fine, powdery flakes were falling +from the unbroken yellow-grey sky. Meg was just in time to see Mr. Sauls +turn the corner of the street. She followed him, running at first; then, +when she was within a few yards of him, walking again, keeping the same +distance always between them. She would not speak to him in the street; +she remembered too vividly how she had repulsed his offer of help. She +knew he would remember it too; he was not the person to forget it. She +meant to follow him home, where he must listen to her. She did not +consider what argument she could use; she did not even think how +terrible a thing it was to ask a favour of this man of all men. She only +knew that he could prevent Barnabas from being hanged, and that when she +was pleading for her husband's life she should know what to say. + +Mr. Sauls went straight back to his rooms, Meg following him. Sometimes +people came between them, and she momentarily lost sight of his +high-shouldered, thick-set figure. At those moments a nervous agony of +fear would take possession of her, as if she had indeed lost the "last +chance," and seen him disappear with that same precious life in his +pocket. Her pride was not so much consciously renounced as absolutely +burnt up in the flame of her love. As Tom had remarked long ago, +"Barnabas' wife couldn't do anything by halves". She was one of the +unfortunate people who must give "full measure running over," if they +gave at all. + +They went through miles of streets. George wondered afterwards that he +had not felt her behind him. When he reached his rooms, she waited a +minute to let him get in first; then rang. The servant who opened the +door looked doubtfully at her. His master had the strongest objection to +begging ladies; he had got into trouble only last week because he had +let in a sister of mercy with a pitiful tale. + +"I don't know that my master is at home," he said, "but I'll go and +inquire. What name shall I say, miss?" + +Meg hesitated a moment; it was possible that Mr. Sauls might refuse to +see her. "Mr. Sauls is at home," she said, "and he will know who I am." +And the man, after another prolonged stare, let her in. + +They crossed the hall, and he opened a door on the right. No one was in +the room; but a huge fire was blazing, and a swinging lamp that hung +from the ceiling by silver chains was alight. A great tiger skin was +stretched in front of the hearth, an armchair was drawn up on one side +of it. + +Meg stood leaning against the mantelpiece and waited. + +It was a luxurious room--the room of a rich man, with a good idea of +comfort. All the chairs were delightfully easy, the carpet was thick and +soft, the light arranged with a view to reading and writing comfortably. +Artistic it was not, and there was no bric-à-brac, and there were few +books about. + +Over the mantelpiece was the picture of an undraped nymph, lying on soft +cushions in a bower of roses. A rounded-limbed, sensuous beauty, with +velvety eyes half closed. The petals of the roses rested on her warm +skin. + +George's sister made a great many jokes about that picture, and called +it George's ideal woman. + +Meg, in her shabby black dress, looked whiter than ever as she stood +beneath it tensely waiting. + +There were groups of wax fruit (not remarkably well done) about the room +too. Meg, had she seen them, would have guessed why she had got such +remarkably good prices for her work; but she saw neither the fruit nor +the picture--she saw only Barnabas and Newgate. + +"What an ass you are, Lucas!" said Mr. Sauls, his voice sounding in the +hall. "Go and tell the young woman that you know I am out on the best +authority, for that I have just told you so myself." + +A pause, and a deprecatory murmur from Lucas; then: "Would come in? The +devil she would! These begging ladies deserve a snub. It's another +Quakeress. Oh, very well, I'll tell her myself that I am out; and I +don't think she'll do it again." And Meg heard his footsteps crossing +the hall. + +She pictured the imaginary Quakeress come to beg of George Sauls, and +pitied her, imagination working in a curiously independent and rapid +way, as it does in moments of suspense. Poor Quakeress! How could any +woman stoop to beg from this man? Unless, indeed, it were a woman whose +husband might have the life "choked out of him," and who was past caring +for aught else! + +What would he have said to the Quakeress? Would she have worn a bonnet +like Mrs. Fry? Would Mr. Sauls have made her feel very hot and shy and +ashamed? + +The door opened. Meg stood quite still, keeping her eyes on the fire. +She would let him get over his astonishment, for she knew he hated being +surprised. He held the handle in his hand for a second; he didn't +exclaim, but there was a moment's breathless pause. This woman, standing +sad and pale under his Nymph of the Roses, was quite the last he had +expected to see. Then he shut the door firmly behind him and came +forward. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + + +"Mrs. Thorpe!" he said. "The world must certainly be coming to an end +when you come to me!" + +He did not even pretend not to be astonished; he was too clever a man to +waste time in futile conventionalities. He had always his wits about +him; and he spoke in a tone that expressed neither enmity nor +friendliness; a surprise put George instinctively on guard. + +"It is in danger of it--for me," said Meg. And then he guessed why she +had come; and his face hardened. + +"Nothing but the fear of losing what is more than all the world would +have brought me. You are right." + +"Ah! I won't insult you by sympathy this time," he said. "I remember +that mine offends you; but--and I mean no offence, Mrs. Thorpe--I think +that you had better not have come. A woman should always keep the +refusing on her side; it answers best on the whole." + +She had refused his aid with scorn when he had offered it, and now it +wasn't to be had for the asking; but he preferred to spare her a +fruitless entreaty. Where Margaret was concerned, revenge was not sweet +to George. His words were meant for a fair warning (if she would only be +wise enough to take it), and Meg understood them so. + +"Much the best, when there is any choice," she said. "But there is +none." + +George looked at her for a moment in silence. The people who lead +forlorn hopes never see "any choice". + +"Then please sit down," he said; and came round to her corner of the +fireplace, and pushed up a chair. She shook her head, and he shrugged +his shoulders slightly, and stood facing her again. + +"I have come to ask you for something," said Meg. "You gave my locket to +me once, and I returned it to you." + +"Your husband returned it to me," interpolated George, who stood playing +with the china on the mantelpiece. + +"With my entire consent," said Meg. "It only meant a dear memory to me +then, but I thought it too valuable a gift to take from you. It means my +husband's liberty, and probably his life, now; but----" + +"Don't go on," said George. "It is of no use; it is not for me, of all +men, to hinder natural consequences. You were right before when you told +me that nothing should induce you to accept a favour from me. You were +perfectly right." + +Again it was with an honest desire to save her from a refusal that he +spoke; but he felt as if he had struck her when he saw her white face +flush. + +"Yes, I remember," she said. "I knew that you would remember too. I told +you it would be easier to take hot coals in my hands than help from you +who injured him--so it would." She stretched out her hands to the fire +with an unconsciously dramatic gesture. "So it would! If pain to my body +could save his pain, I would do _that_ first. Shall I prove it?" + +"No, thanks," said George drily. "I quite believe you. I always have +believed you, even when your remarks have not been conducive to my +natural vanity. We both meant what we said, I fancy." + +"Yes," said Meg bravely. "I did mean it. I meant every word. And you +swore that nothing should ever tempt you to try to help me again, and +_you_ meant it. And yet I ask you. Give me the diamonds now, for they +are the price of his life. Nothing that I could say if I begged on my +knees, though I will do that if you like, could be stronger than this. I +do remember, and yet I ask you." + +He turned his head away, not caring to look at her. Was this Margaret? +Ah, yes! No other woman could so have moved him--"I remember--and yet I +ask you--_even_ you," was what she meant; she was proud even in her +self-abasement. + +"You will?" she said. + +"No!" he answered gravely. "I am sorry. I warned you not to ask me. One +can't say such a 'no' so that it does not give pain, or I would. I don't +want to be more of a brute to you than I need. I would say it gently if +I could--but I cannot--I mean I will not--give you that." + +He twisted his eyeglass cord rapidly round his finger, as she remembered +his doing of old, when he was a trifle excited in an argument. Then he +made a mistake. He should have left his refusal there; but he did not; +he began to justify himself; he could not bear that she should think him +worse than he was. + +"I should like to say that it is not because of what passed between us +outside the governor's house that I refuse your request now," he said. +"I am _not_ quite mean enough to revenge myself on you for that--I +should not have given the diamonds up in any case." + +"Why not?" said Meg. + +He shrugged his shoulders again. + +"Because _I_ am not quixotic," he said. "You mustn't expect a man to +belie his nature. Look here, Mrs. Thorpe. You always knew me to be a +fellow with what you and your father called 'low aims,' didn't you? +That was what you didn't like about me years ago. Oh, you never said so; +and you were too good to despise any one; but you thought me on a +different level; and I lost you; and Barnabas Thorpe married you. Very +well! I had no right to complain; but, then, you mustn't expect _me_ to +be high-minded now." + +"If I offended you then----" began Meg in a low voice; but he stopped +her. + +"No, no. I don't mean that. I wasn't offended. Don't think I am saying +this out of spite. I am _not_. I am only explaining. You were perfectly +right, you judged me truly enough. I don't go in for being generous. I +never give something for less than nothing. Naturally we both know that +if I give you your locket I give you the case;--that is what you mean, +isn't it?" He paused a moment, and Meg bowed her head. + +"And some men, your father among them, would have let a man who had +injured them go for the sake of the woman they--who asked them. I +acknowledge that; but I am not of that kind. I have never even pretended +to be. You have always understood that before so well," said George a +little bitterly, "that you ought in fairness to understand it now." + +"But Barnabas never injured you," said Meg, with a feminine begging of +the point that brought an unmirthful smile to George's lips. + +It was a hard fate that would not allow him to strike his enemy without +wounding her. He hated this scene, and he hated his own weakness in +hating it. + +"You told me that you believed me; and indeed you must know that I am +speaking the truth," she cried earnestly, with that instinctive feeling, +that we most of us have, of the overpowering force of any fact that we +thoroughly believe. "Barnabas could never strike a blow from behind. If +you don't know that yourself, believe me for I do know him. Do you think +I should be here now if I thought him guilty?" + +"I have implicit faith in your word, which is more than I'd say of most +men or of any other woman of my acquaintance," said George. "Since you +say so, I am certain that you believe him innocent. I don't think that +you could lie in any circumstances, certainly not well enough to carry +conviction; but--I might say, consequently--you must pardon me if I +can't pretend to equal faith in your judgment." + +"My judgment is often wrong," she cried. "And yet, for that very reason, +you may believe when I say I know him. Who do you think has ever had +such cause to know him as I have had? I, who was his wife in name before +I understood what love and marriage meant; who threw up everything at +his bidding, and lived to recognise that he was not infallible?" + +And George was silent. The boldness of this avowal surprised him. Meg, +from their first acquaintance, had surprised him at times. + +"We made a mistake," she said. "If Barnabas had been one shade less than +utterly honest, it would have been an irretrievable mistake." She was +thinking of a past despair, of which this man knew nothing, of black +depths of water and a wind-swept marsh, and the thought gave her +strength now. "You think that I believe in the preacher because I love +him? It is not so, for I did _not_ love him. I know that he is honest. +What do you suppose would have become of me if he had not been good?" +she cried with a shudder. "Should not _I_ have had cause enough to know +that?" + +And Mr. Sauls felt the force of that shudder. + +"I allow it," he said. "You certainly ought to know. We'll grant the +preacher honest, if you like;--that is honest according to the gospel of +Barnabas Thorpe, which quite passes my humble understanding. Apparently +you comprehend it. I'll take it on trust that he never steals diamonds, +though he stole a wife; and that he could possibly explain everything, +if his very remarkable code of morality did not include the sheltering +of criminals. I'll grant you all that,--but it makes no difference. Let +him carry out his own principles; far be it from me to prevent him this +time. I would have prevented him once, but I was too late." + +His voice lost self-restraint, and sounded momentarily hoarse and +fierce; then he regained his coolness. + +"You are a little illogical," he said. "All that you advance may be +absolutely true, Mrs. Thorpe; but it is no reason at all why I should +suppress evidence, and give you the diamonds. His innocence is his own +affair--not mine." + +"Do you expect a woman to be logical when her husband is in danger of +being hanged?" said Meg. She was trying to speak quietly, but the +terrible strain was telling on her. + +"Well, no--I seldom expect it in any circumstances," he answered; and +then was ashamed of his words; they sounded like a taunt. "It is more +than flesh and blood can stand!" he said suddenly. "You should not have +come, Margaret! Don't you know that no one can bear to hear the woman he +loves beg for the man who has----" + +"Whom she loves!" cried Meg. "Give me his life! If you know what love +means, give it to me! I know that you hate him! I know now that you hate +him because he married me,--but _I_ love him so. For him? No, I am not +begging for him. Do you think that Barnabas would have let me come here +to ask favours of you? I think he would rather have been hanged. He +shall never know this. I am begging nothing for him. Death must mean +gain for him--but for me! Ah, think of it, think of it! for I hardly +dare to. Will you leave me desolate, whom you say you love? I could face +death; but life without him is so terrible. If I must bear it, I must," +said Meg drawing herself up. "Other women have seen their husbands die, +and have lived, and so can I--but----" and her voice broke. "Ah, save me +from it!" she cried; "you who say you love me. This is more than my own +life to me (_that_ I would never beg for). For my sake, for my sake give +me this thing, because _I_ ask it of you." + +"Because you ask it of me!" said George. + +He stared at her, repeating her words almost stupidly. The agony of her +entreaty, the sight of her love, fully awake at last, moved him, he +hardly knew himself whether most strongly to jealousy or love. + +So she was transformed! Well, he had always known it possible, always +felt that there was fire behind her ice! Indeed, it was that possibility +of passion under her cold pure ideality that had attracted George +always. But it was not he, it was Barnabas Thorpe who had awakened it. + +"Do _you_ believe that the preacher hasn't injured me?" he cried, with a +hot bitterness in his heart. "Oh, yes; he has won, all the way round." + +He walked to his desk, unlocked it, and held out the diamonds. "You +shall have what you ask," he said; "because _you_ ask it; but never tell +any one, Mrs. Thorpe, for I am ashamed of being such a fool." + +Then, as she gave a little cry of joy, his fingers closed again on the +locket. + +"Margaret, Margaret! is his life worth a kiss?" he said. "You shall give +me that for it. Ah, God! What a brute I am!" as she shrank back +terrified. "There, take it--and go--go quickly." He threw the locket on +the table, and turned his back on her. "It may as well still be +something for nothing; for, where you are concerned, it always has +been," he said. "No; don't stop to thank me. You'd better not. The +blessedness of giving isn't at all in my line, you know, and if you stay +I shall repent." + +And Meg went quickly, with the diamonds in her hand. + + * * * * * + +The trial ended on the Monday; but the last act of the drama was not so +dramatic as had been expected. A rumour had, somehow, got about as to +the finding of the jewels. It had been whispered that George Sauls was +going to enter the witness box again, and startle every one with a grand +_coup de théâtre_. But nothing of the sort happened. No additional +evidence was forthcoming. The judge, in summing up, pointed to the fact +of the prosecutor's pockets having been rifled, as indicating that +greed, rather than vengeance, had prompted the crime. The prisoner's +character for probity was unimpeachable. The doctor's evidence showed +that the blow had been given by a sharp-edged instrument. The prisoner +had had nothing in his hand when he encountered Mr. Sauls on the marsh +by the pool. It had been said that the accused was of a naturally +passionate disposition, and that a "violent impulse" might have assailed +him, such as had possessed him sixteen years before in the churchyard; +but, apparently, he had shown considerable self-control in the interview +that had been described. If he was guilty, he was guilty of a +deliberate and premeditated assault, and the weapon with which the +assault was committed must have been concealed about his person when he +came up to the prosecutor. It was a crime apparently at variance with +the whole tenor of his life. It was _not_ the sudden yielding to +temptation of a passionate and sorely provoked man, but a cowardly and +cunningly planned attempt at murder. If Barnabas Thorpe was not guilty +the case remained shrouded in mystery. There was absolutely no clue to +guide to the discovery of the offender. + +The jury were absent half an hour, and returned a verdict for the +prisoner. The diamonds that George Sauls had been robbed of were resting +safely on Margaret Thorpe's neck, and she kept pressing her hand over +them during the judge's summing up. She had not dared to leave them +behind her. George Sauls guessed where they were, and laughed rather +sardonically to himself as he reflected that "the clue" was not far off. + +Well! he gave the "case" as well as the diamonds. He had given Meg a +good deal from first to last; and, though he wasn't aware of the fact, +he was no loser, seeing that no man can give of his best and yet receive +nothing. + +Barnabas Thorpe looked immensely surprised when he found himself free. +"Do ye mean to say that that's all?" he said. "That I may go where I +like? Hasn't Mr. Sauls any more to say? But I know he has." + +He did not seem to realise his liberty, even when Tom seized him by the +shoulders. + +"I believe he's disappointed! I never saw a fellow so determined to be +hanged! Never mind, you may come to it yet, Thorpe," said the doctor, +who had fairly shouted over the verdict. + +"I am more heartily glad than I can say," said Mr. Bagshotte, wringing +his hand; "but I should like to see an action for damages brought +against Mr. Sauls." + +"We'll gi'e him what for, if ever he shows his black face in our part +again," said Long John. "The man as tried afore didn't do the job +properly." + +"What did he mean? Was he lying?" said Barnabas. + +"Was he?" said Tom scornfully. "Why, man, ye know he was!" He looked +rather anxiously at his brother, half fearing that the captivity and +hard usage had touched his brain. + +"Where's Margaret?" said Barnabas. + +"Waiting for 'ee by the door." + +"No, I couldn't wait; I'm here," said Meg behind him. "Barnabas, let us +go home." + +"Ye'd no business to come into the court again. She turned faint at th' +end, when there wasn't any more need to," said Tom. "Well, ye'd ha' +gi'en us a pretty time of it, lad! Come along, Margaret, ye are as white +as a sheet still." + +But Barnabas turned quickly to her. "I'll take care of my lass, if I am +really free," he said. + +"Let them go together," said the doctor. "Then he'll take it in." + +"The blackguards! I'd like to throw 'em all into Newgate for three +months wi'out trial," said Tom between his teeth. But whether he meant +judge, jury or Mr. Sauls remained uncertain. + +When the preacher and Meg left the court together, there was a mingled +sound of hissing and cheering. The cheering predominated then, for his +own friends were in force; of the hissing he heard more later. + +The snowy east wind cut like a knife, blowing in their faces as they +came out of the crowded court. Barnabas felt the flakes on his lips, and +smiled and drew a deep breath. "How good the snow tastes!" he said. +"But draw your hood well over your head, lass. Ay, now I know I am +free." + +They supped together in Tom's room later; Tom inveighing against the +dirtiness, darkness, wickedness and manifold horrors of London, and +swearing that he owed his brother "som'ut for dragging him up; he'd +never ha' come without he'd been obliged;" but breaking off occasionally +into bursts of hilarity, tempered again by the sight of the change in +Barnabas;--Barnabas very silent, finding it still somewhat startling to +be met by liberty and love, when he had made up his mind to accept +imprisonment, and probably death--Meg sitting between them, too thankful +for many words. + +"I wonder now how Mr. Sauls is feelin'--pretty small I hope," said Tom. + +"I doan't understand it," said Barnabas. "He told me i' the prison that +he had evidence as would ha' proved me guilty." + +It was a sign of how thoroughly the brothers knew each other that he had +never considered it necessary to assert his innocence to Tom. + +"The deuce he did!" said Tom. "He's found it not so easy as he thought, +then. If ever that gentleman gets his deserts, may I be there! Your wife +'ud look t'other way out o' her sense o' duty,--but she'd _want_ to clap +her hands; she allowed as much as that." + +"Not now," said Meg quickly. "You don't know, Tom. No one ever knows +exactly what another man's deserts are." She coloured, fearing to betray +what she had promised to keep secret; and Tom laughed. + +"Ye may well blush when ye turn devil's advocate," he remarked. "I +wonder ye dare stand up for him; only ye've allus got Barnabas to back +ye now. Ye weren't so charitably disposed on Saturday," pursued Tom, +looking rather hard at her. + +"Eh, my lass!" said Barnabas. "Did Tom bully ye so that ye didn't dare +say what ye liked when I wasn't by?" + +He smiled, and Meg laughed, relieved at the change of subject. "Yes," +she said; "Tom beat me with a poker and threw boots at me--whenever he +had the chance!" + +"That's why she's glad to see ye," said Tom coolly. "She's larnt as a +husband may be useful--she missed ye on occasions." + +"No, I didn't," said Meg. "When one wants any one much, one doesn't want +him 'on occasions'; one wants him every time one draws one's breath." + +"Well, he ain't much to boast on, now ye've got him," said Tom. "I say, +lad, come back wi' me to-morrow, and shake the dust o' this ant-hill off +your feet and pick up your flesh again. Ye'd do to scare the crows at +present!" + +"I'll get all right again. I'm tougher than ye think," said the +preacher. "But I wouldn't be able to do farm work for a bit, and I ain't +goin' to live on dad--no, not for a day. It's natural like that he +shouldn't ha' been sure o' me, for he never did think much o' me. +Happen, if I'd been hanged, he'd ha' thought I desarved it; but I'll not +take help from him." + +"Did not your father believe in you?" cried Meg. "Oh, Barnabas, I can +never understand it--he is so good to me always." + +"So he is," said the preacher. "I'm beholden to dad for that anyway." + +After supper, when the two men sat together, Tom recurred to that +subject. + +"It's a shame, lad!" he said gravely. "Dad's been down on you all your +life; but it's just the queer twist in his mind; I doan't know as he can +rightly help it. Times when ye were a lad, I've thought if I could stand +up for ye more; but ye were allus strong enough to stand by yoursel', +and he ain't. It's odd how he turns the best side to your wife; she's +never even seen him at his worst." + +"Poor old dad!" said Barnabas. The firelight played on the brothers' +faces, both strongly marked, both bearing the impress of hard lives. The +queer strain in the father's character had not turned to weakness in the +sons; but, probably, there were traces of it in them too. + +"Poor old dad! he sartainly couldn't abide me as a boy, but o' late +years I fancied he'd come round quite wonderful. Ye've been right to +stick by him; but I fancy there'll be a good many his way o' thinkin'. +I'm _not_ fairly cleared, Tom." + +"There's more nor I can feel the bottom to," said Tom; "but ye'll live +it down." + +"Ay, I'll do that, an' I'll live it down here," said the preacher. +"Giles 'ull be glad to ha' me back; an' I can keep a roof over +Margaret's head an' to spare at that trade; and do my special work as +well." + +"Do 'ee think your preaching 'ull go down after this?" asked Tom +bluntly. "Happen they'll refuse to listen to ye." + +"Very like," said Barnabas; "but if one won't be silent, one 'ull be +heard--i' th' end. I larnt _that_ in Newgate." + +Tom nodded with rather a grim smile. How far he sympathised with his +brother's religious views he never said; but he had long ago given up +opposing them. + +"An' your wife 'ull bide with ye?" + +"She'll do as she likes," said the preacher; "but I've small doubt which +that 'ull be." And Tom shot a quick glance at his brother, as he +knocked the ashes out of his pipe. + +"Oh, ay, ye've won her at last," he said. "It's ta'en a near sight o' +the gallows to make her like ye, lad; but I fancy it 'ud take a deal +more nor that to kill the liking. She's not the soart as 'ull be any +trouble to keep. She'll hold to 'ee now through thick and thin; but,--ye +might mind, times, that the ways ye walk _are_ rough to a woman's feet; +in especial one as was born i' cambric sheets. She'll never remind ye o' +that; doan't 'ee quite forget it." + +"I doan't," said the preacher. "But the ways must be stiff that lead +uphill;" and Tom, looking at his brother's whitened hair and bowed +shoulders, was silent. + +Barnabas' wife was not likely to have an easy time of it; but, after +all, there are a good many things that are more worth living for than +easy times. He went back to the farm the next day, carrying with him a +small packet, which Meg had charged him to throw unopened into the +bottomless depths of the Pixies' Pond. It was not safe for her to keep +it, for more reasons than one; and she felt no pang at parting with it. +She had flung away more than diamonds for Barnabas! Tom asked no +questions, and accepted and carried out the commission with no comments. +If he guessed anything, he kept a still tongue on the subject. Barnabas' +wife trusted him utterly, and neither he nor the pixies betrayed the +trust. This time the diamonds did _not_ return. + +Timothy never confessed. After a time, he reappeared, limping ragged and +foot-sore over the marshes to his mother's hut, looking over his +shoulder as he shambled along. He was nearly starved and very thin, and +weak and dirty. His mother received him with unbounded joy. He did not +tell her where he had been; only vouchsafed the information that "the +preacher had 'lain' the fellow, else he could never have come back". + +No one connected him with the attempted murder of Mr. Sauls, but he was +less mischievous and less restless than of old. He never understood that +Barnabas Thorpe had nearly been hanged in his stead; but he had +certainly lost his hatred of the preacher, and even, oddly enough, +showed some rudimentary signs of a conscience. Barnabas would possibly +have counted that in itself worth going to prison for; and, that being +so, Barnabas was hardly, perhaps, to be pitied, though the cloud on his +name was never cleared, and though there were always some, generally +those who had not fallen under his personal influence, who considered +him more knave than fool. + +He never betrayed that confession, and the consequences that followed +his hearing it did not make him one whit more cautious; but, to the end +of his days, he felt "'shamed" when he reflected on his own +"cowardliness" in the prison. He believed he might have done more for +his Master, if he had not been weighed down during the whole of one +afternoon by a most despicable and self-seeking weakness. His devotion +to the miserable, his deep sympathy with the fallen, were the greater +for that recollection. + +It must be owned that from the moment he was certain that he possessed +Meg's heart, his hatred of George Sauls ceased to trouble him; that +knowledge exorcised _that_ devil more effectually than all his prayers +and fastings,--a fact which he put down to his want of faith, but which +would rather have amused the doctor; though it is doubtful whether +either Dr. Merrill or Barnabas Thorpe had arrived at an entirely just +conclusion about the universe in general, and themselves in particular. + +Both being honest men in their way, perhaps both had got hold of a +splinter of the truth. Perhaps there will be a general piecing one day, +when each generation and even individual will bring the precious +fragment he has practically believed in, to the "saving of his +soul"--materialist and mystic alike! + +The last chapter of the story necessarily inclines one to end one's +sentences with a query, seeing that an ending must always mean a fresh +beginning somehow and somewhere. + +The preacher and Margaret moved into the rooms over Giles' shop. He +recovered his health to a certain extent; for his constitution, like his +will, took a great deal of breaking. His horror of living in a city was +lost in his growing desire to fight against the evil of it. +Nevertheless, he meant to take a holiday and see the country he loved, +when he should be no longer needed. I do not know when that day +dawned;--possibly when his body was in its coffin; but one would not +like to be sure even of that, for the rest of Heaven must surely mean to +such strenuous souls as his, but "increased service". + +His mistakes, at any rate, we may hope are over now; his battles fought, +his besetting sins burnt away in that fire of the Lord in whom he +believed. He followed the light, when he saw it, to the best of his +ability, and he fell into bogs and ditches! Was the light therefore a +delusion? Was his zeal wasted? I trow not. Our martyrs are troublesome +people, troublesome both to themselves and to their generation. They see +through curiously coloured glasses, they have a huge capability for +tilting at windmills, and tumbling into pitfalls. They spill their own +blood freely, and occasionally their brothers' as well; and yet, +clinging to their ideal at all costs and to the uttermost, they are +still saving salt in the world, witnesses of something that is worth +suffering, worth dying--worth even living for. That noble army is drawn +from every nation, and its members are of every creed. They are +sometimes, alas! persecutors as well as persecuted; but in one point +they are alike: their lives and actions preach the gospel of endurance +and courage. They lift anew symbols of sacrifice, and so draw men's +hearts after them. + +George Sauls never met Meg again after the interview which lost him the +case. She considered herself under an everlasting debt of gratitude to +him; but it was a debt which, unfortunately, could never be cancelled. +Gratitude, like friendship, was "not what he wanted". She never did full +justice to the nature that was so unlike her own; but then "justice" is +a rather rare commodity. + +"I didn't know that I had it in me to be such a soft idiot," he said to +his mother curtly, when he had told her that the preacher had been +acquitted and that she must forget that dream they had had about the +finding of diamonds. + +Mrs. Sauls looked at him, with the rare tears standing in her eyes. "My +dear, the world would have been a worse place for me anyhow, if you had +not had any soft spot in your heart," she said. + +"Oh d----n my heart! One should be made without one," said George. + +And the old lady laughed and shook her head. "It's too good to be +damned, my son." And, to herself she added: "And two women can swear to +that who've good cause to know". + +Of her own blood relations Meg saw little in the years that followed. +Her life and theirs were too wide apart for it to be practicable for her +to hold both to them and to her husband. Some women might, perhaps, have +managed to cling to both; but Meg was not capable of a divided +allegiance. She lived and worked for and with Barnabas, giving her +strength and heart and soul as entirely and ungrudgingly as ever woman +gave, and finding her happiness in the giving. No doubt she found sorrow +too, seeing that increased capabilities of joy mean also increased +capabilities of grief; but, after all, roses are worth their thorns even +in this world. + +On the evening of the day following the trial she stood beside the +preacher at the window of their room in Stepney. The sun was going down +like a red ball, sinking slowly behind the many twisted chimney-pots. +Meg looked out on the murky yellow haze, and the crowded street, and in +her heart was a great thankfulness. + +"I've been thinkin' ower som'ut that Tom said last night. Would ye as +lief bide wi' my father a bit till I ha' got things straighter for ye?" +said Barnabas. + +Meg shook her head. "No, I wouldn't. What has Tom been saying?" + +"That my ways are rough for your feet; for that, when all's said and +done, ye come of a different kind. _Are_ ye quite content now, Margaret? +Ye told me once that we had made a mistake." + +Margaret turned to him with a smile that was answer enough. "Contentment +is hardly the right state of mind for your wife, is it?" she said. The +wistful tenderness in her face deepened. "_You_ will never rest +contented while there is a single 'unawakened' person left. I am more +than contented now; though I am not so hopeful as you are. Only keep me +very close to you, please, if your way is rough." + +"What a sight o' houses, an' full--full to the cellars!" said the +preacher. Meg knew what he was thinking when she saw his nostrils dilate +and his eyes brighten like those of an old war horse when he hears the +sound of a drum. + +"To-morrow," cried Barnabas, "to-morrow I'll begin again. These last +months have gi'en me a lesson. Ay, they've taught me I am too ready by +times to serve two masters; that I've thought a deal too much o' my +bodily life." + +And his wife sighed under cover of her smile. That moral was perhaps +hardly the one that most people would have drawn from late events. But a +man sees what he has eyes to see, and that only! + +"Barnabas," she said, "do you think from the bottom of your heart that +your mistakes in life have generally arisen from a time-serving +backwardness, from over-prudence and cowardliness?" + +After a moment's silence, he answered, with reddening cheek:-- + +"Ay, lass; those ha' been my sins; I'd not call 'em mistakes. Mistakes +one's bound to make, but they doan't matter. So long as a man follows +the light as he sees it, he's bound to near it in time, and naught else +is worth th' counting; but an' he holds back for fear o' mishaps, and is +neither hot nor cold, phew!--the devil himsel' might be 'shamed o' that +soart. Happen it takes all hell to warm some into life! For the rest, of +course one must pay for blunders; it's a child's part to cry over that. +We are apt to make a deal too much fuss about suffering, though we call +ourselves the servants o' Him who chose it." + +He frowned, looking over the housetops with eyes that saw the inside of +Newgate and Jack dying. + +"As a man sows, he reaps," he said. "An' there ain't no such thing as +escaping payment. One sees that payment in the hospitals and the streets +and the prisons. But it's a just law; and a remission of it 'ud mean +death, not life. There is none, I fancy, lass, unless the Lord ceases to +be merciful." + +"Ah," said Meg, "I never know whether I think your creed most stern or +most merciful, Barnabas; but, if there is no such thing as escaping +payment, then what does the Cross mean?" + +"It saves us from our sins!" said the preacher. "The devil tempts us to +be cowards through our lusts, through our love o' ease; His Cross is the +overcoming o' the fear o' suffering, the banner o' Him who chose and +conquered pain." + +And she laid her head on his shoulder as they stood together, hoping in +her heart that her womanly fears for him might be forgiven, seeing that +they could never hold him back. "Ah, you may be right," she said. "At +any rate yours is a brave creed, and one fit for a man who loves +fighting. But I shall never rise to thinking that 'nothing else matters' +so long as one is following the light. Barnabas, that is beyond me! I +could pretend I did not mind being hurt," said Meg; "but at the bottom +of my soul I should know it was a pretence. I can't understand that!" + +"_You_ can't understan' that?" said the man; and he drew her closer to +him. "Sweetheart, who was it that said that if she stood with me on the +scaffold there would be no such thing as shame for her? That she would +find it easy if she might die with me? Was that a pretence?" + +"No, no. It was truer than anything else," cried Meg. "But that was for +you, and any woman would have felt that if she cared for you. Why, there +is not a poor creature who haunts Newgate but would understand _that_. +It is so simple! A sacrifice is no pain when it is for the person one +loves. It ceases to be a sacrifice. One doesn't 'count' it." + +"I see," said the preacher. "So any woman finds that simple, eh?" He +looked at the woman by his side, _his_ truly now, and there crept over +his face that tender reverence which a good man gives so freely, and +which always half shamed, half touched Margaret. + +"Help me, lass," he said; "that _I_ may find it simple too. I am cold at +times. I doan't allus practise what I believe. I am a terrible coward, +Margaret. Help me, that the fire o' th' Lord may be kindled afresh in +me, to the savin' o' many!" + +"I think it will be," said Meg, her own eyes kindling. "Oh, Barnabas, it +is a difficult world; but, at least, you never tell one to be satisfied +with makeshifts, because there is nothing else to be had." + +A recollection of her girlhood was in her mind when she spoke. + +"God forbid!" said Barnabas Thorpe. "Shall we satisfy our souls with +swine's food? Better go hungry than that! That creed is fit for neither +man nor woman. It's born o' despair an' ower-softness, an' it means a +givin' up o' th' fight, which is a shamefu' thing. Isn't it queer to +think o' th' hundreds i' those houses? I'll preach by the river +to-morrow. It's good to be free again! One got kind o' sick with feeling +eyes always on one by night and day, and no place to breathe alone in." + +"Forget Newgate now, dear," said Meg. + +"No, I'll not do that," he answered. "One has no business to 'forget' +till the day when the coming of the Lord shall set the prisoners free. +But we'll begin afresh to-morrow, an' we'll ha' fewer doubts, an' we'll +do more." + + +THE END. + + * * * * * + + A FEW PRESS OPINIONS + + ON + + INTO THE HIGHWAYS and HEDGES + + +Academy. + +"This book is so admirably conceived and written that Mr. Montrésor's +next venture must excite unusual interest." + +Speaker. + +"This book will undoubtedly rank high amongst the notable novels of +1895." + +Athenæum. + +"Whoever wrote 'Into the Highways and Hedges' wrote no common novel. A +touch of idealism, of nobility of thought and purpose, mingled with an +air of reality and well-chosen expression, are the most notable features +of a book that has not the ordinary defects of such qualities. With all +its elevation of utterance and spirituality of outlook and insight it is +wonderfully free from overstrained or exaggerated matter, and it has +glimpses of humour. Most of the characters are vivid, yet there is +restraint and sobriety in their treatment." + +Daily Telegraph. + +"This exceptionally noble and stirring book. Recounted with unflagging +verve and vigour, we unhesitatingly say that it has hardly a dull or +superfluous page." + +New Age. + +"A remarkably strong novel. I often thought of George Eliot when reading +this book, which I advise every one to read." (_Katherine Tynan._) + +Manchester Courier. + +"Mr. Montrésor's next book will be eagerly awaited by all those who make +the acquaintance of his first, for a more strikingly original or a +stronger novel has not appeared for some time." + +World. + +"'Into the Highways and Hedges' would have been a remarkable work of +fiction at any time; it is phenomenal at this, for it is neither +trivial, eccentric, coarse, nor pretentious, but the opposite of all +these, and a very fine and lofty conception. The man is wonderfully +drawn, realised with a masterly completeness, and the woman is worthy of +him. The whole of the story is admirably conceived and sustained. A +wonderful book." + +Glasgow Herald. + +"This is a remarkable and powerful book, which is likely to leave a +strong impression of itself upon every intelligent reader. One of the +most interesting novels that one has seen for some time." + +Manchester Guardian. + +"The characters are conceived strongly. Since the days of Dinah Morris +there has not, perhaps, been quite so successful a portrait of a man or +woman consumed by the passion of humanity. The dialogue throughout the +book is excellent." + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Into the Highways and Hedges, by +F. F. Montrésor (Frances Frederica) + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 40594 *** |