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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/4378-h.zip b/4378-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..41ce720 --- /dev/null +++ b/4378-h.zip diff --git a/4378-h/4378-h.htm b/4378-h/4378-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..2779a1c --- /dev/null +++ b/4378-h/4378-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,6344 @@ +<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN"> +<HTML> +<HEAD> + +<META HTTP-EQUIV="Content-Type" CONTENT="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1"> + +<TITLE> +The Project Gutenberg E-text of In Homespun, by Edith Nesbit +</TITLE> + +<STYLE TYPE="text/css"> +BODY { color: Black; + background: White; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-left: 10%; + font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; + text-align: justify } + +P {text-indent: 4% } + +P.noindent {text-indent: 0% } + +P.poem {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; + font-size: small } + +P.letter {text-indent: 0%; + font-size: small ; + margin-left: 10% ; + margin-right: 10% } + +P.footnote {font-size: small ; + text-indent: 0% ; + margin-left: 0% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +P.transnote {font-size: small ; + text-indent: 0% ; + margin-left: 0% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +P.intro {font-size: medium ; + text-indent: -5% ; + margin-left: 5% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +P.finis { font-size: larger ; + text-align: center ; + text-indent: 0% ; + margin-left: 0% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +</STYLE> + +</HEAD> + +<BODY> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of In Homespun, by Edith Nesbit + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: In Homespun + +Author: Edith Nesbit + +Posting Date: July 26, 2009 [EBook #4378] +Release Date: August, 2003 +First Posted: January 20, 2002 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IN HOMESPUN *** + + + + +Produced by Charles Aldarondo. HTML version by Al Haines. + + + + + +</pre> + + +<BR><BR> + +<H1 ALIGN="center"> +IN HOMESPUN +</H1> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +BY E. NESBIT +</H3> + +<BR> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +LONDON 1896 +</H4> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<P> +THESE tales are written in an English dialect—none the less a +dialect for that it lacks uniformity in the misplacement of +aspirates, and lacks, too, strange words misunderstanded of the +reader. +</P> + +<P> +In South Kent villages with names ending in 'den,' and out away on +the Sussex downs where villages end in 'hurst,' live the plain +people who talk this plain speech—a speech that should be sweeter +in English ears than the implacable consonants of a northern +kail-yard, or the soft one-vowelled talk of western hillsides. +</P> + +<P> +All through the summer nights the market carts creak along the +London road; to London go the wild young man and the steady young +man who 'betters' himself. To London goes the girl seeking a +'place.' The 'beano' comes very near to this land—so near that +across its marches you may hear the sackbut and shawm from the +breaks. Once a year come the hoppers. And so the cup of the hills +holds no untroubled pool of pastoral speech. This book therefore +is of no value to a Middle English scholar, and needs no glossary. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +E. NESBIT. +<BR> +KENT, <I>March</I> 1896. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +CONTENTS +</H2> + +<H4> + <A HREF="#bristol">THE BRISTOL BOWL</A><BR> + <A HREF="#barring">BARRING THE WAY</A><BR> + <A HREF="#grandsire">GRANDSIRE TRIPLES</A><BR> + <A HREF="#confession">A DEATH-BED CONFESSION</A><BR> + <A HREF="#marriage">HER MARRIAGE LINES</A><BR> + <A HREF="#acting">ACTING FOR THE BEST</A><BR> + <A HREF="#guilty">GUILTY</A><BR> + <A HREF="#son">SON AND HEIR</A><BR> + <A HREF="#love">ONE WAY OF LOVE</A><BR> + <A HREF="#coals">COALS OF FIRE</A><BR> +</H4> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="bristol"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE BRISTOL BOWL +</H3> + +<P> +MY cousin Sarah and me had only one aunt between us, and that was my +Aunt Maria, who lived in the little cottage up by the church. +</P> + +<P> +Now my aunt had a tidy little bit of money laid by, which she +couldn't in reason expect to carry with her when her time came to +go, wherever it was she might go to, and a houseful of furniture, +old-fashioned, but strong and good still. So of course Sarah and I +were not behindhand in going up to see the old lady, and taking her +a pot or so of jam in fruiting season, or a turnover, maybe, on a +baking-day, if the oven had been steady and the baking turned out +well. And you couldn't have told from aunt's manner which of us she +liked best; and there were some folks who thought she might leave +half to me and half to Sarah, for she hadn't chick nor child of her +own. +</P> + +<P> +But aunt was of a having nature, and what she had once got together +she couldn't bear to see scattered. Even if it was only what she had +got in her rag-bag, she would give it to one person to make a big +quilt of, rather than give it to two persons to make two little +quilts. +</P> + +<P> +So Sarah and me, we knew that the money might come to either or +neither of us, but go to both it wouldn't. +</P> + +<P> +Now, some people don't believe in special mercies, but I have always +thought there must have been something out of the common way for +things to happen as they did the day Aunt Maria sprained her ankle. +She sent over to the farm where we were living with my mother (who +was a sensible woman, and carried on the farm much better than most +men would have done, though that's neither here nor there) to ask if +Sarah or me could be spared to go and look after her a bit, for the +doctor said she couldn't put her foot to the ground for a week or +more. +</P> + +<P> +Now, the minister I sit under always warns us against superstition, +which, I take it, means believing more than you have any occasion +to. And I'm not more given to it than most folks, but still I always +have said, and I always shall say, that there's a special Providence +above us, and it wasn't for nothing that Sarah was laid up with a +quinsy that very morning. So I put a few things together—in Sarah's +hat-tin, I remember, which was handier to carry than my own—and I +went up to the cottage. +</P> + +<P> +Aunt was in bed, and whether it was the sprained ankle or the hot +weather I don't know, but the old lady was cantankerous past all +believing. +</P> + +<P> +'Good-morning, aunt,' I said, when I went in, 'and however did this +happen?' +</P> + +<P> +'Oh, you've come, have you?' she said, without answering my +question, 'and brought enough luggage to last you a year, I'll be +bound. When I was young, a girl could go to spend a week without +nonsense of boxes or the like. A clean shift and a change of +stockings done up in a cotton handkerchief—that was good enough for +us. But now, you girls must all be young ladies. I've no patience +with you.' +</P> + +<P> +I didn't answer back, for answering back is a poor sort of business +when the other person is able to make you pay for every idle word. +Of course, it's different if you haven't anything to lose by it. So +I just said— +</P> + +<P> +'Never mind, aunt dear. I really haven't brought much; and what +would you like me to do first?' +</P> + +<P> +'I should think you'd see for yourself,' says she, thumping her +pillows, 'that there's not a stick in the house been dusted yet—no, +nor a stair swep'.' +</P> + +<P> +So I set to to clean the house, which was cleaner than most people's +already, and I got a nice bit of dinner and took it up on a tray. +But no, that wasn't right, for I'd put the best instead of the +second-best cloth on the tray. +</P> + +<P> +'The workhouse is where you'll end,' says aunt. +</P> + +<P> +But she ate up all the dinner, and after that she seemed to get a +little easier in her temper, and by-and-by fell off to sleep. +</P> + +<P> +I finished the stairs and tidied up the kitchen, and then I went to +dust the parlour. +</P> + +<P> +Now, my aunt's parlour was a perfect moral. I have never seen its +like before or since. The mantelpiece and the corner cupboard, and +the shelves behind the door, and the top of the chest of drawers and +the bureau were all covered up with a perfect litter and lurry of +old china. Not sets of anything, but different basins and jugs and +cups and plates and china spoons and the bust of John Wesley and +Elijah feeding the ravens in a red gown and standing on a green +crockery grass plot. +</P> + +<P> +There was every kind of china uselessness that you could think of; +and Sarah and I used to think it hard that a girl had no chance of +getting on in life without she dusted all this rubbish once a week +at the least. +</P> + +<P> +'Well, the sooner begun the sooner ended,' says I to myself So I +took the silk handkerchief that aunt kep' a purpose—an old one it +was that had belonged to uncle, and hemmed with aunt's own hair and +marked with his name in the corner. (Folks must have had a deal of +time in those days, I often think.) And I began to dust the things, +beginning with the big bowl on the chest of drawers, for aunt always +would have everything done just one way and no other. +</P> + +<P> +You think, perhaps, that I might as well have sat down in the +arm-chair and had a quiet nap and told aunt afterwards that I had +dusted everything; but you must know she was quite equivalent to +asking any of the neighbours who might drop in whether that dratted +china of hers was dusted properly. +</P> + +<P> +It was a hot afternoon, and I was tired and a bit cross. +</P> + +<P> +'Aunts, and uncles, and grandmothers,' thinks I to myself. 'O what a +stupid old lot they must have been to have set such store by all +this gimcrackery! Oh, if only a bull or something could get in here +for five minutes and smash every precious—oh, my cats alive!' +</P> + +<P> +I don't know how I did it, but just as I was saying that about the +bull, the big bowl slipped from my hands and broke in three pieces +on the floor at my feet, and at the same moment I heard aunt thump, +thump, thumping with the heel of her boot on the floor for me to go +up and tell her what I had broken. I tell you I wished from my heart +at that moment that it was me that had had the quinsy instead of +Sarah. +</P> + +<P> +I was so knocked all of a heap that I couldn't move, and the boot +went on thump, thump, thumping overhead. I had to go, but I was +flustered to that degree that as I went up the stairs I couldn't for +the life of me think what I should say. +</P> + +<P> +Aunt was sitting up in bed, and she shook her fist at me when I went +in. +</P> + +<P> +'Out with it!' she said. 'Speak the truth. Which of them is it? The +yallar china dish, or the big teapot, or the Wedgwood tobaccojar +that belonged to your grandfather?' +</P> + +<P> +And then all in a minute I knew what to say. The words seemed to be +put into my mouth, like they were into the prophets of old. +</P> + +<P> +'Lord, aunt!' I said, 'you give me quite a turn, battering on the +floor that way. What do you want? What is it?' +</P> + +<P> +'What have you broken, you wicked, heartless girl? Out with it, +quick!' +</P> + +<P> +'Broken?' I says. 'Well, I hope you won't mind much, aunt, but I +have had a misfortune with the little cracked pie-dish that the +potatopie was baked in; but I can easy get you another down at +Wilkins.' +</P> + +<P> +Aunt fell back on her pillows with a sort of groan. +</P> + +<P> +'Thank them as be!' she said, and then she sat up again, bolt +upright all in a minute. +</P> + +<P> +'You fetch me the pieces,' she says, short and sharp. +</P> + +<P> +I hope it isn't boastful to say that I don't think many girls would +have had the sense to bring up that dish in their apron and to break +it on their knee as they came up the stairs, and take it in and show +it to her. +</P> + +<P> +'Don't say another word about it,' says my aunt, as kind and hearty +as you please. +</P> + +<P> +Things not being as bad as she expected, it made her quite willing +to put up with things being a bit worse than they had been five +minutes before. I've often noticed it is this way with people. +</P> + +<P> +'You're a good girl, Jane,' she says, 'a very good girl, and I +shan't forget it, my dear. Go on down, now, and make haste with your +washing up, and get to work dusting the china.' +</P> + +<P> +And it was such a weight off my mind to feel that she didn't know, +that I felt as if everything was all right until I got downstairs +and see those three pieces of that red and yellow and green and blue +basin lying on the carpet as I had left them. My heart beat fit to +knock me down, but I kept my wits about me, and I stuck it together +with white of egg, and put it back in its place on the wool mat with +the little teapot on top of it so that no one could have noticed +that there was anything wrong with it unless they took the thing up +in their hands. +</P> + +<P> +The next three days I waited on aunt hand and foot, and did +everything she asked, and she was as pleased as pleased, till I felt +that Sarah hadn't a chance. +</P> + +<P> +On the third day I told aunt that mother would want me, it being +Saturday, and she was quite willing for the Widow Gladish to come in +and do for her while I was away. I chose a Saturday because that and +Sunday were the only days the china wasn't dusted. +</P> + +<P> +I went home as quick as I could, and I told mother all about it. +</P> + +<P> +'And don't you, for any sake, tell Sarah a word about it, or quinsy +or no quinsy, she'll be up at aunt's before we know where we are, to +let the cat out of the bag.' +</P> + +<P> +I took all the money out of my money-box that I had saved up for +starting housekeeping with in case aunt should leave her money to +</P> + +<P> +Sarah, and I put it in my pocket, and I took the first train to +London. +</P> + +<P> +I asked the porter at the station to tell me the way to the best +china-shop in London; and he told me there was one in Queen Victoria +Street. So I went there. +</P> + +<P> +It was a beautiful place, with velvet sofas for people to sit down +on while they looked at the china and glass and chose which pattern +they would have; and there were thousands of basins far more +beautiful than aunt's, but not one like hers, and when I had looked +over some fifty of them, the gentleman who was showing them to me +said— +</P> + +<P> +'Perhaps you could give me some idea of what it is you do want?' +</P> + +<P> +Now, I had brought one of the pieces of the bowl up with me, the +piece at the back where it didn't show, and I pulled it out and +showed it to him. +</P> + +<P> +'I want one like this,' I said. +</P> + +<P> +'Oh!' said he, 'why didn't you say so at first? We don't keep that +sort of thing here, and it's a chance if you get it at all. You +might in Wardour Street, or at Mr. Aked's in Green Street, Leicester +Square.' +</P> + +<P> +Well, time was getting on and I did a thing I had never done before, +though I had often read of it in the novelettes. I waved my umbrella +and I got into a hansom cab. +</P> + +<P> +'Young man,' I said, 'will you please drive to Mr. Aked's in Green +Street, Leicester Square? and drive careful, young man, for I have a +piece of china in my hands that's worth a fortune to me.' +</P> + +<P> +So he grinned and I got in and the cab started. A hansom cab is +better than any carriage you ever rode in, with soft cushions to +lean against and little looking-glasses to look at yourself in, and, +somehow, you don't hear the wheels. I leaned back and looked at +myself and felt like a duchess, for I had my new hat and mantle on, +and I knew I looked nice by the way the young men on the tops of the +omnibuses looked at me and smiled. It was a lovely drive. When we +got to Mr. Aked's, which looked to me more like a rag-and-bone shop +than anything else, and very poor after the beautiful place in Queen +Victoria Street, I got out and went in. +</P> + +<P> +An old gentleman came towards me and asked what he could do for me, +and he looked surprised, as though he wasn't used to see such smart +girls in his pokey old shop. +</P> + +<P> +'Please, sir,' I said, 'I want a bowl like this, if you have got +such a thing among your old odds and ends.' +</P> + +<P> +He took the piece of china and looked at it through his glasses for +a minute. Then he gave it back to me very carefully. +</P> + +<P> +'There's not a piece of this ware in the market. The few specimens +extant are in private collections.' +</P> + +<P> +'Oh dear,' I said; 'and can't I get another like it?' +</P> + +<P> +'Not if you were to offer me a hundred pounds down,' said the old +man. +</P> + +<P> +I couldn't help it. I sat down on the nearest chair and began to +cry, for it seemed as if all my hopes of Aunt Maria's money were +fading away like the 'roseate hues of early dawn' in the hymn. +</P> + +<P> +'Come, come,' said he, 'what's the matter? Cheer up. I suppose +you're in service and you've broken this bowl. Isn't that it? But +never mind—your mistress can't do anything to you. Servants can't +be made to replace valuable bowls like this.' +</P> + +<P> +That dried my eyes pretty quick, I can tell you. +</P> + +<P> +'Me in service!' I said. 'And my grandfather farming his own land +before you were picked out of the gutter, I'll be bound'—God +forgive me that I should say such a thing to an old man—'and my own +aunt with a better lot of fal-lals and trumpery in her parlour than +you've got in all your shop.' +</P> + +<P> +With that he laughed, and I flounced out of the shop, my cheeks +flaming and my heart going like an eight-day clock. I was so +flustered I didn't notice that some one came out of the shop after +me, and I had walked a dozen yards down the street before I saw that +some one was alongside of me and saying something to me. +</P> + +<P> +It was another old gentleman—at least, not so old as Mr. Aked,—and +I remembered now having seen him at the back of the shop. He was +taking off his hat, as polite as you please. +</P> + +<P> +'You're quite overcome,' he said, 'and no wonder. Come and have a +little dinner with me quietly somewhere, and tell me all about it.' +</P> + +<P> +'I don't want any dinner,' I said; 'I want to go and drown myself, +for it's all over, and I've nothing more to look for. My brother +Harry will have the farm, and I shan't get a penny of aunt's money. +Why couldn't they have made plenty of the ugly old basins while they +were about it?' +</P> + +<P> +'Come and have some dinner,' the old gentleman said again, 'and +perhaps I can help you. I have a basin just like that.' +</P> + +<P> +So I did. We went to some place where there were a lot of little +tables and waiters in black clothes; and we had a nice dinner, and I +did feel better for it, and when we had come to the cheese, I told +him exactly what had happened; and he leaned his head on his hands, +and he thought, and thought, and presently he said— +</P> + +<P> +'Do you think your aunt would sell any of her china?' +</P> + +<P> +'That I'm downright sure she wouldn't,' I said; 'so it's no good +your asking.' +</P> + +<P> +'Well, you see, your aunt won't be down for three or four days yet. +You give me your address, and I'll write and tell you if I think of +anything.' +</P> + +<P> +And with that he paid the bill and had a cab called, and put me in +it and paid the driver, and I went along home. +</P> + +<P> +I didn't sleep much that night, and next day I was thinking all +sermon-time of whatever I could do, for it wasn't in nature that my +aunt would not find me out before another two days was over my head; +and she had never been so nice and kind, and had even gone so far as +to say— +</P> + +<P> +'Whoever my money's left to, Jane, will be bound not to part with my +china, nor my old chairs and presses. Don't you forget, my child. +It's all written in black and white, and if the person my money's +left to sells these old things, my money goes along too.' +</P> + +<P> +There was no letter on Monday morning, and I was up to my elbows in +the suds, doing aunt's bit of washing for her, when I heard a step +on the brick path, and there was that old gentleman coming round by +the water-butt to the back-door. +</P> + +<P> +'Well?' says he. 'Anything fresh happened? +</P> + +<P> +'For any sake,' says I in a whisper, 'get out of this. She'll hear +if I say more than two words to you. If you've thought of anything +that's to be of any use, get along to the church porch, and I'll be +with you as soon as I can get these things through the rinse-water +and out on the line.' +</P> + +<P> +'But,' he says in a whisper, 'just let me into the parlour for five +minutes, to have a look round and see what the rest of the bowl is +like.' +</P> + +<P> +Then I thought of all the stories I had heard of pedlars' packs, and +a married lady taken unexpectedly, and tricks like that to get into +the house when no one was about. So I thought— +</P> + +<P> +'Well, if you are to go in, I must go in with you,' and I squeezed +my hands out of the suds, and rolled them into my apron and went in, +and him after me. +</P> + +<P> +You never see a man go on as he did. It's my belief he was hours in +that room, going round and round like a squirrel in a cage, picking +up first one bit of trumpery and then another, with two fingers and +a thumb, as carefully as if it had been a <I>tulle</I> bonnet just home +from the draper's, and setting everything down on the very exact +spot he took them up from. +</P> + +<P> +More than once I thought that I had entertained a loony unawares, +when I saw him turn up the cups and plates and look twice as long at +the bottoms of them as he had at the pretty parts that were meant to +show, and all the time he kept saying—'Unique, by Gad, perfectly +unique!' or 'Bristol, as I'm a sinner,' and when he came to the +large blue dish that stands at the back of the bureau, I thought he +would have gone down on his knees to it and worshipped it. +</P> + +<P> +'Square-marked Worcester!' he said to himself in a whisper, speaking +very slowly, as if the words were pleasant in his mouth, +'Square-marked Worcester—an eighteen-inch dish!' +</P> + +<P> +I had as much trouble getting him out of that parlour as you would +have getting a cow out of a clover-patch, and every minute I was +afraid aunt would hear him, or hear the china rattle or something; +but he never rattled a bit, bless you, but was as quiet as a mouse, +and as for carefulness he was like a woman with her first baby. I +didn't dare ask him anything for fear he should answer too loud, and +by-and-by he went up to the church porch and waited for me. +</P> + +<P> +He had a brown-paper parcel with him, a big one, and I thought to +myself, 'Suppose he's brought his bowl and is wishful to sell it.' I +got those things through the blue-water pretty quick, I can tell +you. I often wish I could get a maid who would work as fast as I +used to when I was a girl. Then I ran up and asked aunt if she could +spare me to run down to the shop for some sago, and I put on my +sunbonnet and ran up, just as I was, to the church porch. The old +gentleman was skipping with impatience. I've heard of people +skipping with impatience, but I never saw any one do it before. +</P> + +<P> +'Now, look here,' he said, 'I want you—I must—oh, I don't know +which way to begin, I have so many things to say. I want to see your +aunt, and ask her to let me buy her china.' +</P> + +<P> +'You may save your trouble,' I said, 'for she'll never do it. She's +left her china to me in her will,' I said. +</P> + +<P> +Not that I was quite sure of it, but still I was sure enough to say +so. The old gentleman put down his brown-paper parcel on the porch +seat as careful as if it had been a sick child, and said— +</P> + +<P> +'But your aunt won't leave you anything if she knows you have broken +the bowl, will she?' +</P> + +<P> +'No,' I said, 'she won't, that's true, and you can tell her if you +like.' For I knew very well he wouldn't. +</P> + +<P> +'Well,' says he, speaking very slowly, 'if I lent you my bowl, you +could pretend it's hers and she'll never know the difference, for +they are as like as two peas. I can tell the difference, of course, +but then I'm a collector. If I lend you the bowl, will you promise +and vow in writing, and sign it with your name, to sell all that +china to me directly it comes into your possession? Good gracious, +girl, it will be hundreds of pounds in your pocket.' +</P> + +<P> +That was a sad moment for me. I might have taken the bowl and +promised and vowed, and then when the china came to me I might have +told him I hadn't the power to sell it; but that wouldn't have +looked well if any one had come to know of it. So I just said +straight out— +</P> + +<P> +'The only condition of my having my aunt's money is, that I never +part with the china.' +</P> + +<P> +He was silent a minute, looking out of the porch at the green trees +waving about in the sunshine over the gravestones, and then he +says— +</P> + +<P> +'Look here, you seem an honourable girl. I am a collector. I buy +china and keep it in cases and look at it, and it's more to me than +meat, or drink, or wife, or child, or fire—do you understand? And I +can no more bear to think of that china being lost to the world in a +cottage instead of being in my collection than you can bear to think +of your aunt's finding out about the bowl, and leaving the money to +your cousin Sarah.' +</P> + +<P> +Of course, I knew by that that he had been gossiping in the village. +</P> + +<P> +'Well?' I said, for I saw that he had something more on his mind. +</P> + +<P> +'I'm an old man,' he went on, 'but that need not stand in the way. +Rather the contrary, for I shall be less trouble to you than a young +husband. Will you marry me out of hand? And then when your aunt dies +the china will be mine, and you will be well provided for.' +</P> + +<P> +No one but a madman would have made such an offer, but that wasn't a +reason for me to refuse it. I pretended to think a bit, but my mind +was made up. +</P> + +<P> +'And the bowl?' I said. +</P> + +<P> +'Of course I'll lend you my bowl, and you shall give me the pieces +of the old one. Lord Worsley's specimen has twenty-five rivets in +it.' +</P> + +<P> +'Well, sir,' I said, 'it seems to be a way out of it that might suit +both of us. So, if you'll speak to mother, and if your circumstances +is as you represent, I'll accept your offer, and I'll be your good +lady.' +</P> + +<P> +And then I went back to aunt and told her Wilkinses was out of sago, +but they would have some in on Wednesday. +</P> + +<P> +It was all right about the bowl. She never noticed the difference. I +was married to the old gentleman, whose name was Fytche, the next +week by special licence at St. Nicholas Cole Abbey, Queen Victoria +Street, which is very near that beautiful glass and china shop where +I had tried to match the bowl; and my aunt died three months later +and left me everything. Sarah married in quite a poor way. That +quinsy of hers cost her dear. +</P> + +<P> +Mr. Fytche was very well off, and I should have liked living at his +house well enough if it hadn't been for the china. The house was +cram full of it, and he could think of nothing else. No more going +out to dinner; no amusements; nothing as a girl like me had a right +to look for. So one day I told him straight out I thought he had +better give up collecting and sell aunt's things, and we would buy a +nice little place in the country with the money. +</P> + +<P> +'But, my dear,' he said, 'you can't sell your aunt's china. She left +it stated expressly in her will.' +</P> + +<P> +And he rubbed his hands and chuckled, for he thought he had got me +there. +</P> + +<P> +'No, but you can,' I said, 'the china is yours now. I know enough +about law to know that; and you can sell it, and you shall.' +</P> + +<P> +And so he did, whether it was law or not, for you can make a man do +anything if you only give your mind to it and take your time and +keep all on. It was called the great Fytche sale, and I made him pay +the money he got for it into the bank; and when he died I bought a +snug little farm with it, and married a young man that I had had in +my eye long before I had heard of Mr. Fytche. +</P> + +<P> +And we are very comfortably off, and not a bit of china in the house +that's more than twenty years old, so that whatever's broke can be +easy replaced. +</P> + +<P> +As for his collection, which would have brought me in thousands of +pounds, they say, I have to own he had the better of me there, for +he left it by will to the South Kensington Museum. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="barring"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +BARRING THE WAY +</H3> + +<P> +I DON'T know how she could have done it. I couldn't have done it +myself. At least, I don't think so. But being lame and small, and +not noticeable anyhow, I had never any temptation, so I can't judge +those that have. +</P> + +<P> +Ellen was tall and a slight figure, and as pretty as a picture in +her Sunday clothes, and prettier than any picture on a working day, +with her sleeves rolled up to her shoulder and the colour in her +face like a rose, and her brown, hair all twisted up rough anyhow; +and, of course, she was much sought after and flattered. But I +couldn't have done it myself, I think, even if I had been sought +after twice as much and twice as handsome. No, I couldn't, not after +the doctor had said that father's heart was weak, and any sudden +shock might bring an end to him. +</P> + +<P> +But, oh! poor dear, she was my sister—my own only sister—and it's +not the time now to be hard on her, and she where she is. +</P> + +<P> +She was walking regular with a steady young man, who worked through +the week at Hastings, and come home here on a Sunday, and she would +have married him and been as happy as a queen, I know; and all her +looking in the glass, and dressing herself pretty, would have come +to being proud of her babies and spending what bits she could get +together in making them look smart; but it was not to be. +</P> + +<P> +Young Barber, the grocer's son, who had a situation in London, he +come down for his summer holiday, and then it was 'No, thank you +kindly,' to poor Arthur Simmons, that had loved her faithful and +true them two years, and she was all for walking with young Mr. +Barber, besides running into the shop twenty times a day when no +occasion was, just for a word across the counter. +</P> + +<P> +And father wasn't the best pleased, but he was always a silent man, +very pious, and not saying much as he sat at his bench, for he had +been brought up to the shoemaking and was very respected among +Pevensey folks. He would hum a hymn or two at his work sometimes, +but he was never a man of words. When young Barber went back to +London, Ellen, she began to lose her pretty looks. I had never +thought much of young Barber. There was something common about +him—not like the labouring men, but a kind of town commonness, +which is twenty times worse to my thinking; and if I didn't like him +before, you may guess I didn't waste much love on him when I see +poor Ellen's looks. +</P> + +<P> +Now, if I am to tell you this story at all, I must tell it very +steady and quiet, and not run on about what I thought or what I +felt, or I shan't never have the heart to go through it. The long +and short of it was that a month hadn't passed over our heads after +young Barber leaving, when one morning our Ellen wasn't there. And +she left a note, nailed to father's bench, to say she had gone off +with her true love, and father wasn't to mind, for she was going to +be married. +</P> + +<P> +Father, he didn't say a word, but he turned a dreadful white, and +blue his lips were, and for one dreadful moment I thought that I had +lost him too. But he come round presently. I ran across to the Three +Swans to get a drop of brandy for him; and I looked at her letter +again, and I looked at him, and we both see that neither of us +believed that she was going to be married. There was something about +the very way of the words as she had written them which showed they +weren't true. +</P> + +<P> +Father, he said nothing, only when next Sunday had come, and I had +laid out his Sunday things and his hat, all brushed as usual, he +says— +</P> + +<P> +'Put 'em away, my girl. I don't believe in Sunday. How can I believe +in all that, and my Ellen gone to shame?' +</P> + +<P> +And, after that, Sundays was the same to him as weekdays, and the +folks looked shy at us, and I think they thought that, what with +Ellen's running away and father's working on Sundays, we was on the +high-road to the pit of destruction. +</P> + +<P> +And so the time went on, and it was Christmas. The bells was ringing +for Christmas Eve, and I says to father: 'O father! come to church. +Happen it's all true, and Ellen's an honest woman, after all.' +</P> + +<P> +And he lifted his head and looked at me, and at that moment there +come a soft little knock at the door. I knew who it was afore I had +time to stir a foot to go across the kitchen and open the door to +her. She blinked her eyes at the light as I opened the door to her. +Oh, pale and thin her face was that used to be so rosy-red, and— +</P> + +<P> +'May I come in?' she said, as if it wasn't her own home. And father, +he looked at her like a man that sees nothing, and I was frightened +what he might do, like the fool I was, that ought to have known +better. +</P> + +<P> +'I'm very tired,' says Ellen, leaning against the door-post; 'I have +come from a very long way.' +</P> + +<P> +And the next minute father makes two long steps to the door, and his +arms is round her, and she a-hanging on his neck, and they two +holding each other as if they would never let go. And so she come +home, and I shut the door. +</P> + +<P> +And in all that time father and me, we couldn't make too much of +her, me being that thankful to the Lord that He had let our dear +come back to us; and never a word did she say to me of him that had +been her ruin. But one night when I asked her, silly-like, and +hardly thinking what I was doing, some question about him, father +down with his fist on the table, and says he— +</P> + +<P> +'When you name that name, my girl, you light hell in me, and if ever +I see his damned face again, God help him and me too.' +</P> + +<P> +And so I held my stupid tongue, and sat sewing with Ellen long days, +and it was a happy, sad time, if a time can be sad and happy both. +</P> + +<P> +And it was about primrose-time that her time come, and we had kept +it quiet, and nobody knew but us and Mrs. Jarvis, that lived in the +cottage next to ours, and was Ellen's godmother, and loved her like +her own daughter; and when the baby come, Ellen says, 'Is it a boy +or a girl?' And we told her it was a boy. +</P> + +<P> +Then, says she, 'Thank God for that! My baby won't live to know such +shame as mine.' +</P> + +<P> +And there wasn't one of us dared tell her that God meant no shame or +pain or grief at all should come to her little baby, because it was +dead. But by-and-by she would have it to lie by her, and we said No: +it was asleep; and for all we said she guessed the truth somehow. +And she began to cry, the tears running down her cheeks and wetting +the linen about her, and she began to moan, 'I want my baby—oh, +bring me my little baby that I have never seen yet. I want to say +"good-bye" to it, for I shall never go where it is going.' +</P> + +<P> +And father said, 'Bring her the child.' +</P> + +<P> +I had dressed the poor little thing—a pretty boy, and would have +been a fine man—in one of the gowns I had taken a pleasure in +sewing for it to wear, and the little cap with the crimped border +that had been Ellen's own when she was a baby and her mother's +pride, and I brought it and put it in her arms, and it was clay-cold +in my hands as I carried it. And she laid its head on her breast as +well as she could for her weakness; and father, who was leaning over +her, nigh mad with love and being so anxious about her, he says— +</P> + +<P> +'Let Lucy take the poor little thing away, Ellen,' he says, 'for you +must try to get well and strong for the sake of those that love +you.' +</P> + +<P> +Then she says, turning her eyes on him, shining like stars out of +her pale face, and still holding her baby tight to her breast, 'I +know what's the best thing I can do for them as love me, and I'm +doing it fast. Kiss me, father, and kiss the baby too. Perhaps if I +hold it tight we'll go out into the dark together, and God won't +have the heart to part us.' And so she died. +</P> + +<P> +And there was no one but me that touched her after she died, for all +I am a cripple, and I laid her out, my pretty, with my own hands, +and the baby in the hollow of her arm; and I put primroses all round +them, and I took father to look at them when all was done, and we +stood there, holding hands and looking at her lying there so sweet +and peaceful, and looking so good too, whatever you may think, with +all the trouble wiped off her face as if the Lord had washed it +already in His heavenly light. +</P> + +<P> +Now, Ellen was buried in the churchyard, and Parson, who was always +a hard man, he would have her laid away to the north side, where no +sun gets to for the trees and the church, and where few folks like +to be buried. But father, he said, 'No; lay her beside her mother, +in the bit of ground I bought twenty years ago, where I mean to lie +myself, and Lucy too, when her time comes, so that if the talk of +rising again is true we shall be all together at the last, as +kinsfolk should.' +</P> + +<P> +So they laid her there, and her name was cut under mother's on the +headstone. +</P> + +<P> +Father didn't grieve and take on as some men do, but he was quieter +than he used to be, and didn't seem to have that heart in his work +that he always had even after she had left us. It seemed as if the +spring of him was broken, somehow. Not but what he was goodness +itself to me then and always. But I wasn't his favourite child, nor +could I have looked to be, me being what I am and she so sweet and +pretty, and such a way with her. +</P> + +<P> +And father went to church to the burying, but he wouldn't go to +service. 'I think maybe there's a God, and if there is, I have that +in my heart that's quite enough keeping in my own poor house, +without my daring to take it into His.' +</P> + +<P> +And so I gave up going too. I wouldn't seem to be judging father, +not though I might be judged myself by all the village. But when I +heard the church-bells ringing, ringing, it was like as if some one +that loved me was calling to me and me not answering; and sometimes +when all the folk was in church, I used to hobble up on my crutches +to the gate and stand there and sometimes hear a bit of the singing +come through the open door. +</P> + +<P> +It was the end of August that Mr. Barber at the shop fell off a +ladder leading to his wareroom, and was killed on the spot; and Mrs. +Jarvis, she says to me, 'If that young Barber comes home, as I +suppose he will, to take what's his by right in the eyes of the law, +he might as well go and put his head into an oven on a baking-day, +and get his worst friend to shove his legs in after him and shut the +door to.' +</P> + +<P> +'He won't come back,' says I. 'How could he face it, when every one +in the village knows it?' +</P> + +<P> +For when Ellen died it could not be kept secret any longer, and a +heap of folks that would have drawn their skirts aside rather than +brush against her if she had been there alive and well, with her +baby at her breast, had a tear and a kind word for her now that she +was gone where no tears and no words could get at her for good or +evil. +</P> + +<P> +I see once a bit of poetry in a book, and it said when a woman had +done what she had done, the only way to get forgiven is to die, and +I believe that's true. But it isn't true of fathers and sisters. +</P> + +<P> +It was Sunday morning, and father, he was working away at his +bench—not that it ever seemed to make him any happier to work, only +he was more miserable if he didn't,—and I had crept up to the +churchyard to lean against the wall and listen to the psalms being +sung inside, when, looking down the village street, I saw Barber's +shop open, and out came young Barber himself. Oh, if God forgets any +one in His mercy, it will be him and his like! +</P> + +<P> +He come out all smart and neat in his new black, and he was +whistling a hymn tune softly. Our house was betwixt Barber's shop +and the church, not a stone's-throw off, anyway; and I prayed to God +that Barber would turn the other way and not come by our house, +where father he was sitting at his bench with the door open. +</P> + +<P> +But he did turn, and come walking towards me; and I had laid my +crutches on the ground, and I stooped to pick them up to go home—to +stop words; for what were words, and she in her grave?—when I heard +young Barber's voice, and I looked over the wall, and see he had +stopped, in his madness and folly and the wickedness of his heart, +right opposite the house he had brought shame to, and he was +speaking to father through the door. +</P> + +<P> +I couldn't hear what he said, but he seemed to expect an answer, +and, when none came, he called out a little louder, 'Oh, well, +you've no call to hold your head so high, anyhow!' And for the way +he said it I could have killed him myself, but for having been +brought up to know that two wrongs don't make a right, and +'Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord; I will repay.' +</P> + +<P> +They was at prayers in the church, and there was no sound in the +street but the cooing of the pigeons on the roofs, and young Barber, +he stood there looking in at our door with that little sneering +smile on his face, and the next minute he was running for his life +for the church, where all the folks were, and father after him like +a madman, with his long knife in his hand that he used to cut the +leather with. It all happened in a flash. +</P> + +<P> +Barber come running up the dusty road in his black, and passed me as +I stood by the churchyard gate, and up towards the church; but +sudden in the path he stopped short, his eyes seeming starting out +of his head as he looked at Ellen's grave—not that he could see her +name, the headstone being turned the other way,—and he put his +hands before his eyes and stood still a-trembling, like a rabbit +when the dogs are on it, and it can't find no way out. Then he cried +out, 'No, no, cover her face, for God's sake!' and crouched down +against the footstone, and father, coming swift behind him, passed +me at the gate, and he ran his knife through Barber's back twice as +he crouched, and they rolled on the path together. +</P> + +<P> +Then all the folks in church that had heard the scream, they come +out like ants when you walk through an ant-heap. Young Barber was +holding on to the headstone, the blood running out through his new +broadcloth, and death written on his face in big letters. +</P> + +<P> +I ran to lift up father, who had fallen with his face on the grave, +and as I stooped over him, young Barber he turned his head towards +me, and he says in a voice I could hardly catch, such a whisper it +was, 'Was there a child? I didn't know there was a child—a little +child in her arm, and flowers all round.' +</P> + +<P> +'Your child,' says I; 'and may God forgive you!' +</P> + +<P> +And I knew that he had seen her as I see her when my hands had +dressed her for her sleep through the long night. +</P> + +<P> +I never have believed in ghosts, but there is no knowing what the +good Lord will allow. +</P> + +<P> +So vengeance overtook him, and they carried him away to die with the +blood dropping on the gravel; and he never spoke a word again. +</P> + +<P> +And when they lifted father up with the red knife still fast in his +hand, they found that he was dead, and his face was white and his +lips were blue, like as I had seen them before. And they all said +father must have been mad; and so he lies where he wished to lie, +and there's a place there where I shall lie some day, where father +lies, and mother, and my dear with her little baby in the hollow of +her arm. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="grandsire"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +GRANDSIRE TRIPLES +</H3> + +<P> +I WAS promised to William, in a manner of speaking, close upon seven +year. What I mean to say is, when he was nigh upon fourteen, and was +to go away to his uncle in Somerset to learn farming, he gave me a +kiss and half of a broken sixpence, and said— +</P> + +<P> +'Kate, I shall never think of any girl but you, and you must never +think of any chap but me.' +</P> + +<P> +And the Lord in His goodness knows that I never did. +</P> + +<P> +Father and mother laughed a bit, and called it child's nonsense; but +they was willing enough for all that, for William was a likely chap, +and would be well-to-do when his good father died, which I am sure I +never wished nor prayed for. All the trouble come from his going to +Somerset to learn farming, for his uncle that was there was a Roman, +and he taught William a good deal more than he set out to learn, so +that presently nothing would do but William must turn Roman Catholic +himself. I didn't mind, bless you. I never could see what there was +to make such a fuss about betwixt the two lots of them. Lord love +us! we're all Christians, I should hope. But father and mother was +dreadful put out when the letter come saying William had been +'received' (like as if he was a parcel come by carrier). Father, he +says— +</P> + +<P> +'Well, Kate, least said soonest mended. But I had rather see you +laid out on the best bed upstairs than I'd see you married to +William, a son of the Scarlet Woman.' +</P> + +<P> +In my silly innocence I couldn't think what he meant, for William's +mother was a decent body, who wore a lilac print on week-days and a +plain black gown on Sunday for all she was a well-to-do farmer's +wife, and might have gone smart as a cock pheasant. +</P> + +<P> +It was at tea-time, and I was a-crying on to my bread-and-butter, +and mother sniffing a little for company behind the tea-tray, and +father, he bangs down his fist in a way to make the cups rattle +again, and he says— +</P> + +<P> +'You've got to give him up, my girl. You write and tell him so, and +I'll take the letter as I go down to the church to-night to +practice. I've been a good father to you, and you must be a good +girl to me; and if you was to marry him, him being what he is, I'd +never speak to you again in this world or the next.' +</P> + +<P> +'You wouldn't have any chance in the next, I'm afraid, James,' said +my mother gently, 'for her poor soul, it couldn't hope to go to the +blessed place after that.' +</P> + +<P> +'I should hope not,' said my father, and with that he got up and +went out, half his tea not drunk left in the mug. +</P> + +<P> +Well, I wrote that letter, and I told William right enough that him +and me could never be anything but friends, and that he must think +of me as a sister, and that was what father told me to say. But I +hope it wasn't very wrong of me to put in a little bit of my own, +and this is what I said after I had told him about the friend and +sister— +</P> + +<P> +'But, dear William,' says I, 'I shall never love anybody but you, +that you may rely, and I will live an old maid to the end of my days +rather than take up with any other chap; and I should like to see +you once, if convenient, before we part for ever, to tell you all +this, and to say "Good-bye" and "God bless you." So you must find +out a way to let me know quiet when you come home from learning the +farming in Somerset.' +</P> + +<P> +And may I be forgiven the deceitfulness, and what I may call the +impudence of it! I really did give father that same letter to post, +and him believing me to be a better girl than I was, to my shame, +posted it, not doubting that I had only wrote what he told me. +</P> + +<P> +That was the saddest summer ever I had. The roses was nothing to me, +nor the lavender neither, that I had always been so fond of; and as +for the raspberries, I don't believe I should have cared if there +hadn't been one on the canes; and even the little chickens, I +thought them a bother, and—it goes to my heart to say it—a whole +sitting was eaten by the rats in consequence. Everything seemed to +go wrong. The butter was twice as long a-coming as ever I knowed it, +and the broad beans got black fly, and father lost half his hay with +the weather. If it had been me that had done something unkind, +father would have said it was a Providence on me. But, of course, I +knew better than to speak up to my own father, with his hay lying +rotting and smoking in the ten-acre, and telling him he was a-being +judged. +</P> + +<P> +Well, the harvest was got in. It was neither here nor there. I have +seen better years and I have seen worse. And October come. I was +getting to bed one night; at least, I hadn't begun to undress, for I +was sitting there with William's letters, as he had wrote me from +time to time while he was in Somerset, and I was reading them over +and thinking of William, silly fashion, as a young girl will, and +wishing it had been me was a Roman Catholic and him a Protestant, +because then I could have gone into a convent like the wicked people +in father's story-books. I was in that state of silliness, you see, +that I would have liked to do something for William, even if it was +only going into a convent—to be bricked up alive, perhaps. And then +I hears a scratch, scratch, scratching, and 'Drat the mice,' says I; +but I didn't take any notice, and then there was a little tap, +tapping, like a bird would make with its beak on the window-pane, +and I went and opened it, thinking it was a bird that had lost its +way and was coming foolish-like, as they will, to the light. So I +drew the curtain and opened the window, and it was—William! +</P> + +<P> +'Oh, go away, do,' says I; 'father will hear you.' +</P> + +<P> +He had climbed up by the pear-tree that grew right and left up the +wall, and— +</P> + +<P> +'I ask your pardon,' says he, 'my pretty sweetheart, for making so +free as to come to your window this time of night, but there didn't +seem any other way.' +</P> + +<P> +'Oh, go, dear William, do go,' says I. I expected every moment to +see the door open and father put his head in. +</P> + +<P> +'I'm not going,' said William, 'till you tell me where you'll meet +me to say "Good-bye" and "God bless you," like you said in the +letter.' +</P> + +<P> +Though I knew the whole parish better than I know the palm of my +hand, if you'll believe me, I couldn't for the life of me for the +moment think of any place where I could meet William, and I stood +like a fool, trembling. Oh, what a jump I gave when I heard a noise +like a heavy foot in the garden outside! +</P> + +<P> +'Oh! it's father got round. Oh! he'll kill you, William. Oh! +whatever shall we do?' +</P> + +<P> +'Nonsense!' said William, and he caught hold of my shoulder and gave +me a gentle little shake. 'It was only one of these pears as I +kicked off. They must be as hard as iron to fall like that.' +</P> + +<P> +Then he gave me a kiss, and I said: 'Then I'll meet you by the +Parson's Shave to-morrow at half-past five, and do go. My heart's +a-beating so I can hardly hear myself speak.' +</P> + +<P> +'Poor little bird!' says William. Then he kissed me again and off he +went; and considering how quiet he came, so that even I couldn't +hear him, you would not believe the noise he made getting down that +pear-tree. I thought every minute some one would be coming in to see +what was happening. +</P> + +<P> +Well, the next day I went about my work as frightened as a rabbit, +and my heart beating fit to choke me, trying not to think of what I +had promised to do. At tea-time father says, looking straight before +him— +</P> + +<P> +'William Birt has come home, Kate. You remember I've got your +promise not to pass no words with him, him being where he is, +without the fold, among the dogs and things.' +</P> + +<P> +And I didn't answer back, though I knew well enough it wasn't +honest; but he hadn't got my word. Father had brought me up careful +and kind, and I knew my duty to my parents, and I meant to do it, +too. But I couldn't help thinking I owed a little bit of a duty to +William, and I meant doing that, so far as keeping my promise to +meet him that afternoon went. So after tea I says, and I do think it +is almost the only lie I ever told— +</P> + +<P> +'Mother,' I says, 'I've got the jumping toothache, and it's that bad +I can hardly see to thread my needle.' +</P> + +<P> +Then she says, as I knew she would, her being as kind an old soul as +ever trod: 'Go and lie down a bit and put the old sheepskin coat +over your head, and I'll get on with the darning.' +</P> + +<P> +So I went upstairs trembling all over. I took the bolster and pillow +and put them under the covers, to look as like me as I could, and I +put the old sheepskin coat at the top of all; and as you come into +the room any one would have thought it was me lying there with the +toothache. Then I took my hat and shawl and I went out, quiet as a +mouse, through the dairy. When I got to the Parson's Shave there was +William, and I was so glad to see him, I didn't think of nothing +else for full half a minute. Then William said— +</P> + +<P> +'It's only one field to the church. Why not go up there and sit in +the porch? See, it's coming on to rain.' +</P> + +<P> +So he took my arm, and we started across the field, where all the +days of the year but one you would not meet a soul. We went up +through the churchyard. It was 'most dark, but I wasn't a bit afraid +with William's arm round me. But when we got to the porch and had +sat down, I was sorry I'd come, for I heard feet on the road below, +and they stopped outside the lychgate. +</P> + +<P> +'Come, quick,' says I, 'or we're caught like rats in a trap. If I am +going to give you up to please father, I may as well please him all +round. There's no reason why he should know I've seen you.' +</P> + +<P> +'So we stole on our tiptoes round to the little door that is hardly +ever fastened, and so through to the tower. Father being one of the +bellringers, I knew every step. There's a stone seat cut out of the +wall in the bellringers' loft, and there we sat down again, and I +was just going to tell him again what I had said in the letter about +being his sister and a friend, which seemed to comfort me somehow, +though William has told me since it never would have him, when +William, he gripped my hand like iron, and ''S-sh!' says he, +'listen.' And I listened, and oh! what I felt when I heard footsteps +coming up the tower. I didn't dare speak a word to him, and only +kept tight hold of his hand, and pulled him along till we got to the +tower steps, and went on up. But I says to myself, 'Oh, what's my +head made of, to forget that it's practising night? and Him the +church was built for only knows how long they won't be here +practising!' We went on up the twisted cobwebby stairs, with bits of +broken birds' nests that crackled under our feet that loud I thought +for sure the folks below must hear us; and we got into the belfry, +and there William was for staying, but I whispered to him— +</P> + +<P> +'If you hear them bells when they're all a-going, you won't never +hear much else. We must get on up out of it unless we want to be +deaf the rest of our lives.' +</P> + +<P> +And it was pitch dark in the belfry, except for the little grey +slits where the shuttered windows are. The owls and starlings were +frightened, I suppose, at hearing us, though why they should have +been, I don't know, being used to the bells; and they flew about +round us liker ghosts than anything feathered, and one great owl +flopped out right into my face, till I nearly screamed again. It was +all very, very dusty, and not being able to see, and being afraid to +strike a light, we had to feel along the big beams for our way +between the bells, I going first, because I knew the way, and +reaching back a hand every now and then to see that William was +coming after me safe and sound. On hands and knees we had to go for +safety, and all the while I was dreading they would start the bells +a-going and, maybe, shake William, who wasn't as used to it as I +was, off the beams, and him perhaps be smashed to pieces by the +bells as they swung. +</P> + +<P> +I don't know how long it took us to get across the belfry to the +corner where the ladder is that leads up to the tower-top. William +says it must have been about a couple of minutes, but I think it was +much more like half an hour. I thought we should never get there, +and oh! what it was to me when I came to the end of the last beam, +and got my foot down on the firm floor again, and the ladder in my +hand, and William behind me! So up we went, me first again, because +I knew the way and the fastenings of the door. And that part of it +wasn't so bad, for I will say, if you've got to go up a long ladder, +it's better to go up in the dark, when you can't see what's below +you if you happen to slip; and I got up and opened the door, and it +was light out of doors and fresh with the rain—though that had +stopped now. +</P> + +<P> +Then William would take his coat off, and put it round me, for all I +begged him not, and presently the tower began to shake and the bells +began, and directly they began I knew what they was up to. +</P> + +<P> +'O William,' I says, 'it's Grandsire Triples, and there's five +thousand and fifty changes to 'em, and it's a matter of three +hours!' +</P> + +<P> +But he couldn't hear a word I said for the bells. So then I took his +coat and my shawl, and we wrapped them round both our heads to shut +the bells out, and then we could hear each other speak inside. +</P> + +<P> +I'm not going to write down all I said nor all he said, which was +only foolishness—and besides, it come to nothing after all. But +somehow the time wasn't long; and it's a funny thing, but unhappy +and happy you can be at the same time when you are with one you love +and are going to leave. William, he begged and prayed of me not to +give him up. But I said I knew my duty, and he said he hoped I would +think better of it, and I said, 'No, never,' and then we kissed each +other again, and the bells went on, and on, and on, clingle, +clangle, clingle, chim, chime, chim, chime, till I was 'most dazed, +and felt as if I had lived up there all my life, and was going to +live up there twenty lives longer. +</P> + +<P> +'I'll wait for you all my life long,' says William. 'Not that I wish +the old man any harm, but it's not in the nature of things your +father can live for ever, and then—' +</P> + +<P> +'It ain't no use thinking of that, William,' said I. 'Father is sure +to make me promise never to have you—when he's dying, and I can't +refuse him anything. It's just the kind of thing he'd think of.' +</P> + +<P> +Perhaps you will think William ought to have made more stand, for +everybody likes a masterful man; but what stand can you make when +you are up in a belfry with the bells shouting and yelling at you, +and when the girl you are with won't listen to reason? And you have +no idea what them bells were. Often and often since then I have +started up in the bed thinking I heard them again. It was enough to +drive one distracted. +</P> + +<P> +'Well,' says William, 'you'll give me up, but I'll never give you +up; and you mark my words, you and me will be man and wife some +day.' +</P> + +<P> +And as he said it, the bells stopped sudden in the middle of a +change. The rain had come on again. It was very chill up there. My +teeth was chattering, and so was William's, though he pretended he +did it for the joke. +</P> + +<P> +'Let's get inside again,' says he. 'Perhaps they are going home, and +if they are not, we can stay there till they begin it again.' +</P> + +<P> +So we opened the door and crept down the ladder. There was light now +coming up from the bellringers' loft through the holes in the floor, +and we got down to the belfry easy, and as we got to the bottom of +the ladder I heard my father's voice in the loft below— +</P> + +<P> +'I don't believe it,' he was shouting. 'It can't be true. She's a +God-fearing girl.' +</P> + +<P> +And then I heard my mother. 'Come home, James,' she said, 'come +home—it's true. I told you you was too hard on them. Young folks +will be young folks, and now, perhaps, our little girl has come to +shame instead of being married decent, as she might have been, +though Roman.' +</P> + +<P> +Then there was silence for a bit, and then my father says, speaking +softer, 'Tell me again. I can't think but what I'm dreaming.' +</P> + +<P> +Then mother says—'Don't I tell you she said she'd got the +toothache, and she was going to lie down a bit, and I went to take +her up some camomiles I'd been hotting, and she wasn't there, and +her bolsters and pillows, poor lamb, made up to pretend she was, and +Johnson's Ben, he see her along of William Birt by the Parson's +Shave with his arm round her—God forgive them both!' +</P> + +<P> +Then says my father, 'Here's an end on't. She's no daughter o' mine. +If she was to come back to me, I'd turn her out of doors. Don't let +any one name her name to me never no more. I hain't got no +daughter,' he said, 'and may the Lord—' +</P> + +<P> +I think my mother put her hands afore his mouth, for he stopped +short, and mother, she said— +</P> + +<P> +'Don't curse them, James. You'll be sorry for it, and they'll have +trouble enough without that.' +</P> + +<P> +And with that father and mother must have gone away, and the other +ringers stood talking a bit. +</P> + +<P> +'She'd best not come back,' said the leader, John Evans. 'Out +a-gallivanting with a young chap from five to eight as I understand! +What's the good of coming back? She's lost her character, and a gal +without a character, she's like—like—' +</P> + +<P> +'Like a public-house without a licence,' said the second ringer. +</P> + +<P> +'Or a cart without a horse,' said the treble. +</P> + +<P> +There was only one man spoke up for me—that was Jim Piper at the +general shop. 'I don't believe no harm of that gal,' says he, 'no +more nor I would of my own missus, nor yet of him.' +</P> + +<P> +'Well, let's hope for the best,' said the others. But I had a sort +of feeling they was hoping for the worst, because when things goes +wrong, it's always more amusing for the lookers-on than when +everything goes right. Presently they went clattering down the +steps, and all was dark, and there was me and William among the +cobwebs and the owls, holding each other's hands, and as cold as +stone, both of us. +</P> + +<P> +'Well?' says William, when everything was quiet again. +</P> + +<P> +'Well!' says I. 'Good-bye, William. He won't be as hard as his word, +and if I couldn't give you all my life to be a good wife to you, I +have given you my character, it seems; not willing, it's true; but +there's nothing I should grudge you, William, and I don't regret it, +and good-bye.' +</P> + +<P> +But he held my hands tight. +</P> + +<P> +'Good-bye, William,' I says again. 'I'm going. I'm going home.' +</P> + +<P> +'Yes, my girl,' says he, 'you are going home; you're going home with +me to my mother.' And he was masterful enough then, I can tell you. +'If your father would throw you off without knowing the rights or +wrongs of the story, it's not for him you should be giving up your +happiness and mine, my girl. Come home to my mother, and let me see +the man who dares to say anything against my wife.' +</P> + +<P> +And whether it was father's being so hard and saying what he did +about me before all those men, or whether it was me knowing that +mother had stood up for us secret all the time, or whether it was +because I loved William so much, or because he loved me so much, I +don't know. But I didn't say another word, only began to cry, and we +got downstairs and straight home to William's mother, and we told +her all about it; and we was cried in church next Sunday, and I +stayed with the old lady until we was married, and many a year +after; and a good mother she was to me, though only in law, and a +good granny to our children when they come. And I wasn't so unhappy +as you may think, because mother come to see me directly, and she +was at our wedding; and father, he didn't say anything to prevent +her going. +</P> + +<P> +When I was churched after my first, and the boy was christened—in +our own church, for I had made William promise it should be so if +ever we had any—mother was there, and she said to me: 'Take the +child,' she said, 'and go to your father at home; and when he sees +the child, he'll come round, I'll lay a crown; for his bark,' she +says, 'was allus worse than his bite.' +</P> + +<P> +And I did so, and the pears was hard and red on the wall as they was +the night William climbed up to my window, and I went into the +kitchen, and there was father sitting in his big chair, and the +Bible on the table in front of him, with his spectacles; but he +wasn't reading, and if it had been any one else but father, I should +have said he had been crying. And so I went in, and I showed him the +baby, and I said— +</P> + +<P> +'Look, father, here's our little baby; and he's named James, for +you, father, and christened in church the same as I was. And now I +have got a child of my own,' says I, for he didn't speak, 'dear +father, I know what it is to have a child of your own go against +your wishes, and please God mine never will—or against yours +either. But I couldn't help it, and O father, do forgive me!' +</P> + +<P> +And he didn't say anything, but he kissed the boy, and he kissed him +again. And presently he says— +</P> + +<P> +'It's 'most time your mother was home from church. Won't you be +setting the tea, Kate?' +</P> + +<P> +So I give him the baby to hold, for I knew everything was all right +betwixt us. +</P> + +<P> +And all the children have been christened in the church. But I think +when father is taken from us—which in the nature of things he must +be, though long may it be first!—I think I shall be a Roman +Catholic too; for it doesn't seem to me to matter much one way or +the other, and it would please William very much, and I am sure it +wouldn't hurt me. And what's the good of being married to the best +man in the world if you can't do a little thing like that to please +him? +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="confession"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +A DEATH-BED CONFESSION +</H3> + +<P> +AND so you think I shall go to heaven when I die, sir! And why? +Because I have spent my time and what bits of money I've had in +looking after the poor in this parish! And I would do it again if I +had my time to come over again; but it will take more than that to +wipe out my sins, and God forgive me if I can't always believe that +even His mercy will be equal to it. You're a clergyman, and you +ought to know. I think sometimes the black heart in me, that started +me on that deed, must have come from the devil, and that I am his +child after all, and shall go back to him at the last. Don't look so +shocked, sir. That's not what I really believe; it's only what I +sometimes fear I ought to believe, when I wake up in the chill night +and think things over, lying here alone. +</P> + +<P> +To see me old and prim, with my cap and little checked shawl, you'd +never think that I was once one of the two prettiest girls on all +the South Downs. But I was, and my cousin Lilian was the other. We +lived at Whitecroft together at our uncle's. He was a well-to-do +farmer, as well-to-do as a farmer could be in such times as those, +and on such land as that. +</P> + +<P> +Whenever I hear people say 'home,' it's Whitecroft I think of, with +its narrow windows and thatch roof and the farm-buildings about it, +and the bits of trees all bent one way with the wind from the sea. +</P> + +<P> +Whitecroft stands on a shoulder of the Downs, and on a clear day you +can see right out to sea and over the hollow where Felscombe lies +cuddled down close and warm, with its elms and its church, and its +bright bits of gardens. They are sheltered from the sea wind down +there, but there's nothing to break the wing of it as it rolls +across the Downs on to Whitecroft; and of a night Lilian and I used +to lie and listen to the wind banging the windows, and know that the +chimneys were rocking over our heads, and feel the house move to and +fro with the strength of the wind like as if it was the swing of a +cradle. +</P> + +<P> +Lilian and I had come there, little things, and uncle had brought us +up together, and we loved each other like sisters until that +happened, and this is the first time I have told a human soul about +it; and if being sorry can pay for things—well, but I'm afraid +there are some things nothing can pay for. +</P> + +<P> +It was one wild windy night, when, if you should open the door an +inch, everything in the house jarred and rattled. We were sitting +round the fire, uncle and Lilian and me, us with our knitting and +him asleep in his newspaper, and nobody could have gone to sleep +with a wind like that but a man who has been bred and born at sea, +or on the South Downs. +</P> + +<P> +Lilian and I were talking over our new winter dresses, when there +come a knock at the side door, not nigh so loud as some of the +noises the wind made, but not being used to it, uncle sat up, wide +awake, and said, 'Hark!' In a minute it come again, and then I went +to the door and opened it a bit. There was some one outside who +began to speak as soon as he saw the light, but I could not hear +what he said for the roaring of the wind, and the cracking of the +trees outside. +</P> + +<P> +'Shut that door!' uncle shouted from the parlour. 'Let the dog in, +whatever he is, and let him tell his tale this side the oak.' +</P> + +<P> +So I let him in and shut the door after him, and I had better have +shut to the lid of my own coffin after me. +</P> + +<P> +Him that I let in was dripping wet, and all spent with fighting the +wind on these Downs, where it is like a lion roaring for its prey, +and will go nigh to kill you, if you fight it long enough. He leaned +against the wall and said— +</P> + +<P> +'I have lost my way, and I have had a nasty fall. I think there is +something wrong with my arm—hollow—slip—light—hospitality beg +your pardon, I'm sure,' and with that he fainted dead off on the +cocoanut matting at my feet. +</P> + +<P> +Uncle came out when I screamed, and we got the stranger in and put +him on the big couch by the fire. Uncle was nursing up with one of +his bad attacks of bronchitis, the same thing that carried him off +in the end, and the first thing he said when he'd felt the poor +chap's arm down was— +</P> + +<P> +'This is a bad break. Which of you girls will go and wake one of the +waggoners to fetch Doctor from Felscombe?' +</P> + +<P> +'I will,' I said. +</P> + +<P> +But before I went I got out the port wine and the brandy, and bade +Lilian rub his hands a bit, and be sure she didn't let him see her +looking frightened when he come to. +</P> + +<P> +Why did I do that? Because the Lord made me to be a fool—giving him +her pretty face to be the first thing he looked at when he come to +after that long, dreary spell on the Downs, and that black journey +into the strange place where people go to when they faint. +</P> + +<P> +But everything that there was of me ached to be of some use to him. +So I went, and once outside the door it seemed easier to take Brown +Bess and go myself to Felscombe than to rouse the waggoners, who +were but sleepy and slow-headed at the best of times. So I saddled +Brown Bess myself and started. +</P> + +<P> +It was but a small way across the Downs that I had to lead her, it +being almost as much as both of us could do to keep our feet in the +fury of the wind. Then you go down the steep hill into the village, +and as soon as we had passed the brow, it was easy and I mounted. I +was down there in less time than it would have taken to rouse one of +those heavy-headed carters; and Doctor, he come back with me, +walking beside Brown Bess with his hand on her bridle, he not being +by any means loth to come out such a night, because, forsooth, it +was me that fetched him. Oh yes! I might have married him if I had +wanted to, and more than one better man than him; but that's neither +here nor there. +</P> + +<P> +When we got in, we found Lilian kneeling by the sofa rubbing the +young man's hands as I had told her to, and his eyes were open, and +there was a bit of colour in his cheek, and he was looking at her +like as any one but a fool might have known he would look; and the +Doctor, he saw it too, and looked at me and grinned; and if I had +been God, that grin should have been his last. No, I don't mean to +be irreverent, but it's true, all the same. +</P> + +<P> +Well, the arm was set, and when he was a bit easier we settled round +the fire, and he told us that his name was Edgar Linley, and he was +an artist, and had been painting the angry sunset that had come +before that night's storm, and got caught in the dusk and so lost +his way, as many do on our Downs at home, some not so lucky as him +to see a light and get to it. +</P> + +<P> +This Mr. Linley had a way with him like no other man I ever see; not +only a way to please women with, but men too. I never saw my uncle +so taken up with anybody; and the long and the short of it was that +he stayed there a month, and we nursed him; and at the end of the +month I knew no more than I had known that evening when I had seen +him looking at Lilian; but he and Lilian, they had learned a deal in +that time. +</P> + +<P> +And one evening I was at my bedroom window, and I see them coming up +the path in the red light of the evening, walking very close +together, and I went down very quick to the parlour, where uncle was +just come in to his tea and taking his big boots off, and I sat down +there, for I wanted to hear how they'd say it, though I knew well +enough what they had got to say. And they came in and he says, very +frank and cheery— +</P> + +<P> +'Mr. Verinder,' he says, 'Lilian and I have made up our minds to +take each other, with your consent, for better, for worse.' +</P> + +<P> +And uncle was as pleased as Punch; and as for me, I didn't believe +in God then, or I should have prayed Him to strike them both down +dead as they stood. +</P> + +<P> +Why did I hate them so? And you call yourself a man and a parson, +and one that knows the heart of man! Why did I hate them? Because I +loved him as no woman will ever love you, sir, if you'll pardon me +being so bold, if you live to be a thousand. +</P> + +<P> +He would have understood all about everything with half what I have +been telling you. As it is, I sometimes think that he understood, +for he was very gentle with me and kind, not making too much of +Lilian when I was by, yet never with a look or a word that wasn't +the look and the word of her good, true lover; and she was very +happy, for she loved him as much as that blue-and-white teacup kind +of woman can love; and that's more than I thought for at the time. +</P> + +<P> +He was an orphan, and well off, and there was nothing to wait for, +so the wedding was fixed for early in the new year; and I sewed at +her new clothes with a marrow of lead in every bone of my fingers. +</P> + +<P> +A truly understanding person might get some meaning out of my words +when I say that I loved her in my heart all the time that I was +hating her; and the devil himself must have sent out my soul and +made use of the rest of me on that night I shall tell you about +presently. +</P> + +<P> +It was in the sharp, short, frosty days that brought in Christmas +that uncle came home one day from Lewes, looking thunder black, with +an eye like fire and a mouth like stone. And he walked straight into +the kitchen where we three were making toast for tea, for Edgar was +one of us by this time, and lent a hand at all such little things as +young folks can be merry over together. And uncle says— +</P> + +<P> +'Leave my house, young man; it's an honest house and a clean, and no +fit place for a sinful swine. Get out,' he says, '"For without are +dogs—"' +</P> + +<P> +With that he went on with a long text of Revelation that I won't +repeat to you, sir, for I know your ears are nice, and it's out of +one of the plainest-spoken parts of the Bible. Edgar turned as white +as a sheet. +</P> + +<P> +'I swear to God,' he said, 'I wasn't to blame. I know what you have +heard, but if I can't whiten myself without blacking a woman +</P> + +<P> +I'll live and die as black as hell,' he says. 'But I don't need +whitening with those that love me,' he says, looking at Lilian and +then at me—oh! yes, he looked at me then. +</P> + +<P> +I said, 'No, indeed,' and so did Lilian; but she began to cry, and +before we had time to think what it was all about, he had taken his +hat and kissed Lilian and was gone. But he turned back at the door +again. +</P> + +<P> +'I'll write to you,' he says to Lilian, 'but I don't cross this door +again till those words are unsaid,' and so he was gone. +</P> + +<P> +Him being gone, uncle told us what he had heard in Lewes, and what +all folks there believed to be the truth; how young Edgar had +carried on, as men may not, with a young married woman, the grocer's +wife where he lodged, the end of it being that she drowned herself +in a pond near by, leaving as her last word that he was the cause of +it; and so he may have been, but not the way my uncle and the folk +at Lewes thought, I'll stake my soul. God makes His troubles in +dozens; He don't make a new patterned one for every back. I wasn't +the only woman who ever loved Edgar Linley without encouragement and +without hope, and risked her soul because she was mad with loving +him. +</P> + +<P> +But when uncle had told us all this with a black look on his face I +never had seen before, he said— +</P> + +<P> +'Girls, I have always been a clean liver, and I have brought you up +in the fear of the Lord. I don't want to judge any man, and Lilian +is of age and her own mistress. It's not for me to say what she +shall or shan't do, but if she marries that scoundrel, she has my +curse here and hereafter, and not one penny of my money, if it was +to save her from the workhouse.' +</P> + +<P> +After that we were sad enough at Whitecroft. But in two days come a +letter from Edgar to Lilian; and when she had read it, she looked at +me and said, 'O Isabel, whatever shall I do? I never can marry +without dear uncle's consent,' and I turned and went from her +without a word, because I couldn't bear to see her arguing and +considering what to do, when the best thing in the world was to her +hand for the taking. +</P> + +<P> +All the next week she cried all day and most of the night. Then +uncle went to London, my belief being it was to alter his will, so +that if Lilian married Edgar, she should feel it in her pocket, +anyhow, and he was to stay all night, and the farm servants slept +out of the house, and we were without a maid at the time. So Lilian +and me were left alone at Whitecroft. +</P> + +<P> +Lilian and I didn't sleep in one room now. I had made some excuse to +sleep on the other side of the house, because I couldn't bear to +wake up of mornings and see her lying there so pretty, looking like +a lily in her white nightgown and her fair hair all tumbled about +her face. It was more than any woman could have borne to see her +lying there, and think that early in the new year it was him that +would see her lying like that of a morning. +</P> + +<P> +And that night the place seemed very quiet and empty, as if there +was more room in it for being unhappy in. When Lilian had taken her +candle and gone up to bed, I walked through all the rooms below, as +uncle's habit was, to see that all was fast for the night. It was as +I set the bolt on the door of the little lean-to shed, where the +faggots were kept, that the devil entered into me all in a breath; +and I thought of Lilian upstairs in her white bed, and of how the +day must come, when he would see how pretty she looked and white, +and I said to myself, 'No, it never shall, not if I burn for it +too.' +</P> + +<P> +I hope you are understanding me. I sometimes think there is +something done to folks when they are learning to be parsons as +takes out of them a part of a natural person's understandingness; +and I would rather have told the doctor, but then he couldn't have +told me whether these are the kind of things Christ died to make His +Father forgive, and I suppose you can. +</P> + +<P> +What I did was this. I clean forgot all about uncle and how fond I +was of Whitecroft, and how much I had always loved Lilian (and I +loved her then, though I know you can't understand me when I say +so), and I took all them faggots, dragging them across the sanded +floor of the kitchen, and I put them in the parlour in the little +wing to the left, and just under Lilian's bedroom, and I laid them +under the wooden corner cupboard where the best china is, and then I +poured oil and brandy all over, and set it alight. +</P> + +<P> +Then I put on my hat and jacket, buttoning it all the way down, as +quiet as if I was going down to the village for a pound of candles. +And I made sure all was burning free, and out of the front door I +went and up on to the Downs, and there I set me down under the wall +where I could see Whitecroft. +</P> + +<P> +And I watched to see the old place burn down; and at first there was +no light to be seen. +</P> + +<P> +But presently I see the parlour windows get redder and redder, and +soon I knew the curtains had caught, and then there was a light in +Lilian's bedroom. I see the bars of the window as you do in the +ruined mill when the sun is setting behind it; and the light got +more and more, till I see the stone above the front door that tells +how it was builded by one of our name this long time since; and at +that, as sudden as he had come, the devil left me, and I knew all in +a minute that I was crouched against a wall, very cold, and my hands +hooked into my hair over my ears, and my knees drawn up under my +chin; and there was the old house on fire, the dear old house, with +Lilian inside it in her little white bed, being burnt to death, and +me her murderer! And with that I got up, and I remember I was stiff, +as if I had been screwing myself all close together to keep from +knowing what it was I had been a-doing. I ran down the meadow to our +house faster than I ever ran in my life, in at the door, and up the +stairs, all blue and black, and hidden up with coppery-coloured +smoke. +</P> + +<P> +I don't know how I got up them stairs, for they were beginning to +burn too. I opened her door—all red and glowing it was inside! like +an oven when you open it to rake out the ashes on a baking-day. And +I tried to get in, because all I wanted then was to save her—to get +her out safe and sound, if I had to roast myself for it, because we +had been brought up together from little things, and I loved her +like a sister. And while I was trying to get my jacket off and round +my head, something gave way right under my feet, and I seemed to +fall straight into hell! +</P> + +<P> +I was badly burnt, and what handsomeness there was about my face was +pretty well scorched out of it by that night's work; and I didn't +know anything for a bit. +</P> + +<P> +When I come to myself, they had got me into bed bound up with +cotton-wool and oil and things. And the first thing I did was to sit +up and try to tear them off. +</P> + +<P> +'You'll kill yourself,' says the nurse. +</P> + +<P> +'Thank you,' says I, 'that's the best thing I can do, now Lilian is +dead.' +</P> + +<P> +And with that the nurse gives a laugh. 'Oh, that's what's on your +mind, is it?' says she. 'Doctor said there was something. Miss +Lilian had run away that night to her young man. Lucky for her! +She's luckier than you, poor thing! And they're married and living +in lodgings at Brighton, and she's been over to see you every day.' +</P> + +<P> +That day she came again. I lay still and let her thank me for having +tried to save her; for the farm men had seen the fire, and had come +up in time to see me go up the staircase to her room, and they had +pulled me out. She believes to this day the fire was an accident, +and that I would have sacrificed my life for her. And so I would; +she's right there. +</P> + +<P> +I wasn't going to make her unhappy by telling her the real truth, +because she was as fond of me as I was of her; and she has been as +happy as the day is long, all her life long, and so she deserves. +</P> + +<P> +And as for me, I stayed on with uncle at the farm until he died of +that bronchitis I told you of, and the little wing was built up +again, and the lichen has grown on it, so that now you could hardly +tell it is only forty years old; and he left me all his money, and +when he died, and Whitecroft went to a distant relation, I came here +to do what bits of good I could. +</P> + +<P> +And I have never told the truth about this to any one but you. I +couldn't have told it to any one as cared, but I know you don't. So +that makes it easy. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="marriage"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +HER MARRIAGE LINES +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +I +</H4> + +<P> +I HAD never been out to service before, and I thought it a grand +thing when I got a place at Charleston Farm. Old Mr. Alderton was +close-fisted enough, and while he had the management of the farm it +was a place no girl need have wished to come to; but now Mr. +Alderton had given up farming this year or two, and young Master +Harry, he had the management of everything. Mr. Alderton, he stuck +in one room with his books, which he was always fond of above a bit, +and must needs be waited on hand and foot, only driving over to +Lewes every now and then. +</P> + +<P> +Six pounds a year I was to have, and a little something extra at +Christmas, according as I behaved myself. It was Master Harry who +engaged me. He rode up to our cottage one fine May morning, looking +as grand on his big grey horse, and says he, through the stamping +clatter of his horse's hoofs on the paved causeway— +</P> + +<P> +'Are you Deresby's Poll?' says he. +</P> + +<P> +And I says, 'Yes; what might you be wanting?' +</P> + +<P> +'We want a good maid up at the farm,' says he, patting his horse's +neck—'Steady, old boy—and they tell me you're a good girl that +wants a good place, and ours is a good place that wants a good girl. +So if our wages suit you, when can you come?' +</P> + +<P> +And I said, 'Tuesday, if that would be convenient.' +</P> + +<P> +And he took off his hat to me as if I was a queen, though I was +floury up to the elbows, being baking-day, and rode off down the +lane between the green trees, and no king could have looked +handsomer. +</P> + +<P> +Charleston is a lonesome kind of house. It's bare and white, with +the farm buildings all round it, except on one side where the big +pond is; and lying as it does, in the cup of the hill, it seems to +shut loneliness in and good company out. +</P> + +<P> +I was to be under Mrs. Blake, who had been housekeeper there since +the old mistress died. No one knew where she came from, or what had +become of Mr. Blake, if ever there had been one. For my part I never +thought she was a widow, and always expected some day to see Mr. +Blake walk in and ask for his wife. But as a widow she came, and as +a widow she passed. +</P> + +<P> +She had just that kind of handsome, black, scowling looks that +always seem to need a lot of black jet and crape to set them +off—the kind of complexion that seems to be playing up for the +widow's weeds from the very cradle. I have heard it said she was +handsome, and so she may have been; and she took a deal of care of +her face, always wearing a veil when there was a wind, and her hands +to have gloves, if you please, for every bit of dirty work. +</P> + +<P> +But she was a capable woman, and she soon put me in the way of my +work; and me and Betty, who was a little girl of fourteen from +Alfreston, had most of the housework to do, for Mrs. Blake would let +none of us do a hand's-turn for the old master. It was she must do +everything, and as he got more and more took up with his books there +come to be more and more waiting on him in his own room; and after a +bit Mrs. Blake used even to sit and write for him by the hour +together. +</P> + +<P> +I have heard tell old Mr. Alderton wasn't brought up to be a farmer, +but was a scholar when he was young, and had to go into farming when +he married Hakes's daughter as brought the farm with her; and now he +had gone back to his books he was more than ever took up with the +idea of finding something out—making something new that no one had +ever made before—his invention, he called it, but I never +understood what it was all about—and indeed Mrs. Blake took very +good care I shouldn't. +</P> + +<P> +She wanted no one to know anything about the master except +herself—at least that was my opinion—and if that was her wish she +certainly got it. +</P> + +<P> +It was hard work, but I'm not one to grudge a hand's-turn here or a +hand's-turn there, and I was happy enough; and when the men came in +for their meals I always had everything smoking hot, and just as I +should wish to sit down to it myself: And when the men come in, +Master Harry always come in with them, and he'd say, 'Bacon and +greens again, Polly, and done to a turn, I'll wager. You're the girl +for my money!' and sit down laughing to a smoking plateful. +</P> + +<P> +And so I was quite happy, and with my first six months' money I got +father a new pipe and a comforter agin the winter, and as pretty a +shepherd's plaid shawl as ever you see for mother, and a knitted +waistcoat for my brother Jim, as had wanted one this two year, and +had enough left to buy myself a bonnet and gown that I didn't feel +ashamed to sit in church in under Master Harry's own blue eye. Mrs. +Blake looked very sour when she saw my new things. +</P> + +<P> +'You think to catch a young man with those,' says she. 'You gells is +all alike. But it isn't fine feathers as catches a husband, as they +say. Don't you believe it.' +</P> + +<P> +And I said, 'No; a husband as was caught so easy might be as easy +got rid of, which was convenient sometimes.' +</P> + +<P> +And we come nigh to having words about it. +</P> + +<P> +That was the day before old master went off to London unexpected. +When Mrs. Blake heard he was going, she said she would take the +opportunity of his being away to make so bold as to ask him for a +day's holiday to go and visit her friends in Ashford. So she and +master went in the trap to the station together, and off by the same +train; and curious enough, it was by the same train in the evening +they come back, and I thought to myself, 'That's like your +artfulness, Mrs. Blake, getting a lift both ways.' +</P> + +<P> +And I wondered to myself whether her friends in Ashford, supposing +she had any, was as glad to see her as we was glad to get rid of +her. +</P> + +<P> +That's a day I shall always remember, for other things than her and +master going away. +</P> + +<P> +That was the day Betty and I got done early, and she wanted to run +home to her mother to see about her clean changes for Sunday, which +hadn't come according to expectations. +</P> + +<P> +So I said, 'Off you go, child, and mind you're back by tea,' and I +sat down in the clean kitchen to do up my old Sunday bonnet and make +it fit for everyday. +</P> + +<P> +And as I was sitting there, with the bits of ribbons and things in +my lap, unpicking the lining of the bonnet, I heard the back door +open, and thinking it was one of the men bringing in wood, maybe, I +didn't turn my head, and next minute there was Master Harry had got +his hand under my chin and holding my head back, and was kissing me +as if he never meant to stop. +</P> + +<P> +'Lor bless you, Master Harry,' says I, as soon as I could push him +away, dropping all the ribbons and scissors and things in my flurry, +'how could you fashion to behave so? And me alone in the house! I +thought you had better sense.' +</P> + +<P> +'Don't be cross, Polly,' says he, smiling at me till I could have +forgiven him much more than that, and going down on his knees to +pick up my bits of rubbish. 'You know well enough who my choice is. +I haven't lived in the house with you six months without finding out +there's only one girl as I should like to keep my house to the end +of the chapter.' +</P> + +<P> +He had that took me by surprise that I give you my word that for a +minute or two I couldn't say anything, but sat looking like a fool +and taking the ribbons and things from his hands as he picked them +up. +</P> + +<P> +When I come to my senses I said, 'I don't know what maggot has bit +you, sir, to think of such nonsense. What would the master say, and +Mrs. Blake and all?' +</P> + +<P> +Well, he got up off his knees and walked up and down the kitchen +twice in a pretty fume, and he said a bad word about what Mrs. Blake +might say that I'm not going to write down here. +</P> + +<P> +'And as for my father,' says he, 'I know he's ideas above what's +fitting for farmer folk, but I know best what's the right choice for +me, and if you won't mind me not telling him, and will wait for me +patient, and will give me a kind word and a kiss on a Sunday, so to +say, you and me will be happy together, and you shall be mistress of +the farm when the poor old dad's time comes to go. Not that I wish +his time nearer by an hour, for all I love you so dear, Polly.' +</P> + +<P> +And I hope I did what was right, though it was with a sore heart, +for I said— +</P> + +<P> +'I couldn't stay on in your folks' house to have secret +understandings with you, Master Harry. That ain't to be thought of. +But I do say this—'tain't likely that I shall marry any other chap; +and if, when you come to be master of Charleston, you are in the +same mind, why you can speak your mind to me again, and I'll listen +to you then with a freer heart, maybe, than I can to-day.' +</P> + +<P> +And with that I bundled all my odds and ends into the dresser +drawer, and took the kettle off, which was a-boiling over. +</P> + +<P> +'And now,' I says, 'no more of this talk, if you and me is to keep +friends.' +</P> + +<P> +'Shake hands on it,' says he; 'you're a good girl, Polly, and I see +more than ever what a lucky man I shall be the day I go to church +with you; and I'll not say another word till I can say it afore all +the world, with you to answer "Yes" for all the world to hear.' +</P> + +<P> +So that was settled, and, of course, from that time I kept myself +more than ever to myself, not even passing the time of day with a +young man if I could help it, because I wanted to keep all my +thoughts and all my words for Master Harry, if he should ever want +me again. +</P> + +<BR> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +II +</H4> + +<P> +Well, as I said, old Master and Mrs. Blake come back together from +the station, and from that day forward Mrs. Blake was unbearabler +than ever. And one day when Mr. Sigglesfield, the lawyer from Lewes, +was in the parlour, she a-talking to him after he'd been up to see +master (about his will, no doubt), she opened the parlour door sharp +and sudden just as I was bringing the tea for her to have it with +him like a lady—she opened the door sudden, as I say, and boxed my +ears as I stood, and I should have dropped the tea-tray but for me +being brought up a careful girl, and taught always to hold on to the +tea-tray with all my fingers. +</P> + +<P> +I'm proud to say I didn't say a word, but I put down that tea-tray +and walked into the kitchen with my ear as hot as fire and my temper +to match, which was no wonder and no disgrace. Then she come into +the kitchen. +</P> + +<P> +'You go this day month, Miss,' she says, 'a-listening at doors when +your betters is a-talking. I'll teach you!' says she, and back she +goes into the parlour. +</P> + +<P> +But I took no notice of what she said, for Master Harry, he hired +me, and I would take no notice from any one but him. +</P> + +<P> +Mr. Sigglesfield was a-coming pretty often just then, and Harry he +come to me one day, and he says— +</P> + +<P> +'It's all right, Polly, and I must tell you because you're the same +as myself, though I don't like to talk as if we was waiting for dead +men's shoes. Long may he wear them! But father's told me he has left +everything to me, right and safe, though I am the second son. My +brother John never did get on with father, but when all's mine, +we'll see that John don't starve.' +</P> + +<P> +And that day week old master was a corpse. +</P> + +<P> +He was found dead in his bed, and the doctor said it was old age and +a sudden breaking up. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Blake she cried and took on fearful, more than was right or +natural, and when the will was to be read in the parlour after the +funeral she come into the kitchen where I was sitting crying +too—not that I was fond of old master, but the kind of crying there +is at funerals is catching, I think, and besides, I was sorry for +Master Harry, who was a good son, and quite broken down. +</P> + +<P> +'You can come and hear the will read,' she says, 'for all your +impudence, you hussy!' +</P> + +<P> +And I don't know why I went in after her impudence, but I did. Mr. +Sigglesfield was there, and some of the relations, who had come a +long way to hear if they was to pull anything out of the fire; and +Master Harry was there, looking very pale through all his +sun-brownness. And says he, 'I suppose the will's got to be read, +but my father, he told me what I was to expect. It's all to me, and +one hundred to Mrs. Blake, and five pounds apiece to the servants.' +</P> + +<P> +And Mr. Sigglesfield looks at him out of his ferret eyes, and says +very quietly, 'I think the will had better be read, Mr. Alderton.' +</P> + +<P> +'So I think,' says Mrs. Blake, tossing her head and rubbing her red +eyes with her handkerchief at the same minute almost. +</P> + +<P> +And read it was, and all us people sat still as mice, listening to +the wonderful tale of it. For wonderful it was, though folded up +very curious and careful in a pack of lawyer's talk. And when it was +finished, Master Harry stood up on his feet, and he said— +</P> + +<P> +'I don't understand your cursed lawyer's lingo. Does this mean that +my father has left me fifty pounds, and has left the rest, stock, +lock and barrel, to his wife Martha. Who in hell,' he says, 'is his +wife Martha?' +</P> + +<P> +And at that Mrs. Blake stood up and fetched a curtsy to the company. +</P> + +<P> +'That's me,' she said, 'by your leave; married two months come +Tuesday, and here's my lines.' +</P> + +<P> +And there they were. There was no getting over them. Married at St. +Mary Woolnoth, in London, by special licence. +</P> + +<P> +'O you wicked old Jezebel!' says Master Harry, shaking his fist at +her; 'here's a fine end for a young man's hopes! Is it true?' says +he, turning to the lawyer. And Mr. Sigglesfield shakes his head and +says— +</P> + +<P> +'I am afraid so, my poor fellow.' +</P> + +<P> +'Jezebel, indeed!' cries Mrs. Blake. 'Out of my house, my young +gamecock! Get out and crow on your own dunghill, if you can find +one.' +</P> + +<P> +And Harry turned and went without a word. Then I slipped out too, +and I snatched my old bonnet and shawl off their peg in the kitchen, +and I ran down the lane after him. +</P> + +<P> +'Harry,' says I, and he turned and looked at me like something +that's hunted looks when it gets in a corner and turns on you. Then +I got up with him and caught hold of his arm with both my hands. +'Never mind the dirty money,' says I. 'What's a bit of money,' I +says—'what is it, my dear, compared with true love? I'll work my +fingers to the bone for you,' says I, 'and we're better off than her +when all's said and done.' +</P> + +<P> +'So we are, my girl,' says he; and the savage look went out of his +face, and he kissed me for the second time. +</P> + +<P> +Then we went home, arm-under-arm, to my mother's, and we told father +and mother all about it; and mother made Harry up a bit of a bed on +the settle, and he stayed with us till he could pull himself +together and see what was best to be done. +</P> + +<BR> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +III +</H4> + +<P> +Of course, our first thought was, 'Was she really married?' And it +was settled betwixt us that Harry should go up to London to the +church named in her marriage lines and see if it was a real marriage +or a make-up, like what you read of in the weekly papers. And Harry +went up, I settling to go the same day to fetch my clothes from +Charleston. +</P> + +<P> +So as soon as I had seen him off by the train, I walked up to +Charleston, and father with me, to fetch my things. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Blake—for Mrs. Alderton I can't and won't call her—was out, +and I was able to get my bits of things together comfortable without +her fussing and interfering. But there was a pair of scissors of +mine I couldn't find, and I looked for them high and low till I +remembered that I had lent them to Mrs. Blake the week before. So I +went to her room to look for them, thinking no harm; and there, +looking in her corner cupboard for my scissors, as I had a right to +do, I found something else that I hadn't been looking for; and, +right or wrong, I put that in my pocket and said nothing to father, +and so we went home and sat down to wait for Harry. +</P> + +<P> +He came in by the last train, looking tired and gloomy. +</P> + +<P> +'They were married right enough,' he said. 'I've seen the register, +and I've seen the clerk, and he remembers them being married.' +</P> + +<P> +'Then you'd better have a bit of supper, my boy,' says mother, and +takes it smoking hot out of the oven. +</P> + +<P> +The next day when I had cleared away breakfast, I stood looking into +the street. It was a cold day, and a day when nobody would be out of +doors that could anyways be in. I shouldn't have had my nose out of +the door myself, except that I wanted to turn my back on other folks +now, and think of what I had found at Charleston, for I hadn't even +told Harry of it yet. +</P> + +<P> +And as I sat there, who should come along but the postman, as is my +second cousin by the mother's side, and, 'Well, Polly,' says he, +'times do change. They tell me young Alderton is biding with your +folks now.' +</P> + +<P> +'They tell you true for once,' says I. +</P> + +<P> +'Then 'tain't worth my while to be trapesing that mile and a quarter +to leave a letter at the farm, I take it, especially as it's a +registered letter, and him not there to sign for it.' +</P> + +<P> +So I calls Harry out, who was smoking a pipe in the chimney-corner, +as humped and gloomy as a fowl on a wet day, and he was as surprised +as me at getting a letter with a London postmark, and registered +too; and he was that surprised that he kept turning it over and +over, and wondering who it could have come from, till we thought it +would be the best way to open and see, and we did. +</P> + +<P> +'Well, I'm blowed!' says Harry; and then he read it out to me. It +was— +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +'MY DEAR BROTHER,—I have seen in the papers the melancholy account +of our poor father's decease, and the disastrous circumstances of +his second marriage; and the more I have thought of it, the more it +seems to me that there was a screw loose somewhere. I had the +misfortune, as you know, to offend him by my choice of a profession; +but you will be glad to hear that I have risen from P.C. to +detective-sergeant, and am doing well. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +'I have made a few inquiries about the movements of our lamented +father and Mrs. Blake on the day when they were united, and if the +same will be agreeable to you, I will come down Sunday morning and +talk matters over with you.—I remain, my dear brother, your +affectionate brother, +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +JOHN. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +'<I>P.S.</I> I shall register the letter to make sure. Telegraph if +you would like me to come.' +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Well, we telegraphed, though mother doesn't hold with such things, +looking on it as flying in the face of Providence and what's +natural. But we got it all in, with the address, for sixpence, and +Harry was as pleased as Punch to think of seeing his brother again. +But mother said she doubted if it would bring a blessing. And on the +Sunday morning John came. +</P> + +<P> +He was a very agreeable, gentlemanly man, with such manners as you +don't see in Littlington—no, nor in Polegate neither,—and very +changed from the boy with the red cheeks as used to come past our +house on his way to school when he was very little. +</P> + +<P> +Harry met him at the station and brought him home, and when he come +in he kissed me like a brother, and mother too, and he said— +</P> + +<P> +'The best good of trouble, ma'am, is to show you who your friends +really are.' +</P> + +<P> +'Ah,' says mother, 'I doubt if all the detectives in London, asking +your pardon, Master John, can set Master Harry up in his own again. +But he's got a pair of hands, and so has my Polly, and he might have +chosen worse, though I says it.' +</P> + +<P> +Now, after dinner, when I'd cleared away, nothing would serve but I +must go out with the two of them. So we went out, and walked up on +to the Downs for quietness' sake, and it was a warm day and soft, +though November, and we leaned against a grey gate and talked it all +over. +</P> + +<P> +Then says Master John, 'Look here, Polly, we aren't to have any +secrets from you. There's no doubt they were married, but doesn't it +seem to you rather strange that my poor old father should have been +taken off so suddenly after the wedding?' +</P> + +<P> +'Yes,' I said, 'but the doctors seemed to understand all about it.' +</P> + +<P> +Then he said something about the doctors that it was just as well +they weren't there to hear, and he went on— +</P> + +<P> +'Of course I thought at first they weren't married, so I set about +finding out what they did when they came to London; and I haven't +found out what my father did, but I did pounce on a bit of news, and +that's that she wasn't with him the whole day. They came to Charing +Cross by the same train, but he wasn't with her when she went to get +that arsenic from the chemist's.' +</P> + +<P> +'What!' says I, 'arsenic?' +</P> + +<P> +'Yes,' says John, 'don't you get excited, my dear. I found that out +by a piece of luck once as doesn't come to a man every day of the +week. A woman answering to her description went into a chemist's +shop, and the assistant gave the arsenic, a shilling's-worth it was, +to kill rats with.' +</P> + +<P> +'And God above only knows why they put such bits of fools into a +shop to sell sixpenny-worths of death over the counter,' says Harry. +</P> + +<P> +'Now the question is: Was this woman answering to her description +really Mrs. Blake or not?' +</P> + +<P> +'It was Mrs. Blake,' says I, very short and sharp. +</P> + +<P> +'How do you know?' says John, shorter and sharper. +</P> + +<P> +Then I put my hand in my pocket and pulled out what I had found in +Mrs. Blake's corner cupboard, and John took it in his hand and +looked at it, and whistled long and low. It was a little white +packet, and had been opened and the label torn across, but you could +read what was on it plain enough—'Arsenic—Poison,' and the name of +the chemist in London. +</P> + +<P> +John's face was red as fire, like some men's is when they're going +in fighting, and my Harry's as white as milk, as some other men's is +at such times. But as for me, I fell a-crying to think that any +woman could be so wicked, and him such a good master and so kind to +her, and she having the sole care of him, helpless in her hands as +the new-born babe. +</P> + +<P> +And Harry, he patted me on the back, and told me to cheer up and not +to cry, and to be a good girl; and presently, my handkerchief being +wet through, I stopped, and then John, he said— +</P> + +<P> +'We'll bring it home to her yet, Harry, my boy. I'll get an order to +have poor old father exhumed, and the doctors shall tell us how much +of the arsenic that cursed old hag gave him.' +</P> + +<P> +IV I don't know what you have to do to get an order to open up a +grave and look at the poor dead person after it is once put away, +but, whatever it was, John knew and did it. +</P> + +<P> +We didn't tell any one except our dear old parson who buried the old +man; and he listened to all we had to say, and shook his head and +said, 'I think you are wrong—I think you are wrong,' but that was +only natural, him not liking to see his good work disturbed. But he +said he would be there. +</P> + +<P> +Now, no one was told of it, and yet it seemed as if every one for +miles round knew more than we did about it. +</P> + +<P> +Afore the day come, old Mrs. Jezebel up at the farm, she met me one +day, and she says, 'You're a pretty puss, aren't you, howking up my +poor dear deceased husband's remains before they're hardly cold? +Much good you'll do yourself. You'll end in the workhouse, my fine +miss, and I shall come to see you as a lady visitor when you're +dying.' +</P> + +<P> +I tried to get past her, but she wouldn't let me. 'I wish you joy o' +that Harry, cursed young brute!' says she. 'It serves him right, it +does, to marry a girl out of the gutter!' +</P> + +<P> +And with that—I couldn't help it—I fetched her a smack on the side +of the face with the flat of my hand as hard as I could, and bolted +off, her after me, and me being young and she stout she couldn't +keep up with me. Gutter, indeed! and my father a respectable +labourer, and known far and wide. +</P> + +<P> +There were several strangers come the day the coffin was got up. It +was a dreadful thing to me to see them digging, not to make a grave +to be filled up, but to empty one. And there were a lot of people +there I didn't know; and the parson, and another parson, seemingly a +friend of his, and every one as could get near looking on. +</P> + +<P> +They got the coffin up, and they took it to the room at the Star, at +Alfreston, where inquests are held, and the doctors were there, and +we were all shut out. And Harry and John and I stood on the stairs. +But parson, being a friend of the doctor's, he was let in, him and +his friend. And we heard voices and the squeak of the screws as they +was drawn out; and we heard the coffin lid being laid down, and then +there was a hush, and some one spoke up very sharp inside, and we +couldn't hear what he said for the noise and confusion that came +from every one speaking at once, and nineteen to the dozen it +seemed. +</P> + +<P> +'What is it?' says Harry, trembling like a leaf: 'O my God! what is +it? If they don't open the door afore long, by God, I shall burst it +open! He was murdered, he was! And if they wait much longer, that +woman will have time to get away.' +</P> + +<P> +As he spoke, the door opened and parson came out, and his friend +with him. +</P> + +<P> +'These are the young men,' says our parson. +</P> + +<P> +'Well, then,' says parson number two, 'it's a good thing I heard of +this, and came down—out of mere curiosity, I am ashamed to say—for +the man who is buried there is not the man whom I united in holy +matrimony to Martha Blake two months ago last Tuesday.' +</P> + +<P> +We didn't understand. +</P> + +<P> +'But the poison?' says Harry. +</P> + +<P> +'She may have poisoned him,' said our parson, 'though I don't think +it. But from what my friend here, the rector of St Mary Woolnoth, +tells me, it is quite certain she never married him.' +</P> + +<P> +'Then she's no right to anything?' said Harry. +</P> + +<P> +'But what about the will?' says I. But no one harkened to me. +</P> + +<P> +And then Harry says, 'If she poisoned him she will be off by now. +Parson, will you come with me to keep my hands from violence, and my +tongue from evil-speaking and slandering? for I must go home and see +if that woman is there yet.' +</P> + +<P> +And parson said he would; and it ended in us, all five of us, going +up together, the new parson walking by me and talking to me like +somebody out of the Bible, as it might be one of the disciples. +</P> + +<P> +I got to know him well afterwards, and he was the best man that ever +trod shoe-leather. +</P> + +<P> +We all went up together to Charleston Farm, and in through the back, +without knocking, and so to the parlour door. We knew she was +sitting in the parlour, because the red firelight fell out through +the window, and made a bright patch that we see before we see the +house itself properly; and we went, as I say, quietly in through the +back; and in the kitchen I said, 'Oh, let me tell her, for what she +said to me.' +</P> + +<P> +And I was sorry the minute I'd said it, when I see the way that +clergyman from London looked at me; and we all went up to the +parlour door, and Harry opened it as was his right. +</P> + +<P> +There was Mrs. Blake sitting in front of the fire. She had got on +her widow's mourning, very smart and complete, with black crape, and +her white cap; and she'd got the front of her dress folded back very +neat on her lap, and was toasting her legs, in her black-and-red +checked petticoat, and her feet in cashmere house-boots, very warm +and cosy, on the brass fender; and she had got port wine and sherry +wine in the two decanters that was never out of the glass-fronted +chiffonier when master was alive; and there was something else in a +black bottle; and opposite her, in the best arm-chair that old +master had sat in to the last, was that lawyer, Sigglesfield from +Lewes. And when we all came in, one after another, rather slow, and +bringing the cold air with us, they sat in their chairs as if they +had been struck, and looked at us. +</P> + +<P> +Harry and John was in front, as was right; and in the dusk they +could hardly see who was behind. +</P> + +<P> +'And what do you want, young men?' says Mrs. Blake, standing up in +her crape, and her white cap, and looking very handsome, Harry said +afterwards, though, for my part, I never could see it; and, as she +stood up, she caught sight of the clergyman from London, and she +shrank back into her chair and covered her face with her hands; and +the clergyman stepped into the room, none of us having the least +idea of what he was going to say, and said he— +</P> + +<P> +'That's the woman that I married on the 7th; and that's the man I +married her to!' said he, pointing to Sigglesfield, who seemed to +turn twice as small, and his ferret eyes no better than button-hole +slits. +</P> + +<P> +'That!' said our parson; 'why, that's Mr. Sigglesfield, the +solicitor from Lewes.' +</P> + +<P> +'Then the lady opposite is Mrs. Sigglesfield, that's all,' said the +parson from London. +</P> + +<P> +'What I want to know,' says Harry, 'is—is this my house or hers? +It's plain she wasn't my father's wife. But yet he left it to her in +the will.' +</P> + +<P> +'Slowly, old boy!' said John; 'gently does it. How could he have +left anything in a will to his wife when he hadn't got any wife? +Why, that fellow there—-' +</P> + +<P> +But here Mrs. Blake got on her feet, and I must say for the woman, +if she hadn't got anything else she had got pluck. +</P> + +<P> +'The game's up!' she says. 'It was well played, too, though I says +it. And you, you old fool!' she says to the parson, 'you have often +drunk tea with me, and gone away thinking how well-mannered I was, +and what a nice woman Mrs. Blake was, and how well she knew her +place, after you had chatted over half your parish with me. I know +you are the curiousest man in it, and as you and me is old friends, +I don't mind owning up just to please you. It'll save a lot of time +and a lot of money.' +</P> + +<P> +'It's my duty to warn you,' said John, 'that anything you say may be +used against you.' +</P> + +<P> +'Used against a fiddlestick end!' said Mrs. Blake. 'I married Robert +Sigglesfield in the name of William Alderton, and he sitting +trembling there, like a shrimp half boiled! He got ready the kind of +will we wanted instead of the one the old man meant, and gave it to +the old man to sign, and he signed it right enough.' +</P> + +<P> +'And what about that arsenic,' says I,—'that arsenic I found in +your corner cupboard?' +</P> + +<P> +'Oh, it was you took it, was it? You little silly, my neck's too +handsome for me to do anything to put a rope round it. Do you +suppose I've kept my complexion to my age with nothing but cold +water, you little cat?' +</P> + +<P> +'And the other will,' says Harry, 'that my father meant to sign?' +</P> + +<P> +'I'll get you that,' says Mrs. Blake. 'It's no use bearing malice +now all's said and done.' +</P> + +<P> +And she goes upstairs to get it, and, if you'll believe me, we were +fools enough to let her go; and we waited like lambs for her to come +back, which being a woman with her wits about her, and no fool, she +naturally never did; and by the time we had woke up to our seven +senses, she was far enough away, and we never saw her again. We +didn't try too much. But we had the law of that Sigglesfield, and it +was fourteen years' penal. +</P> + +<P> +And the will was never found—I expect Mrs. Blake had burnt it,—so +the farm came to John, and what else there was to Harry, according +to the terms of the will the old man had made when his wife was +alive, afore John had joined the force. And Harry and John was that +pleased to be together again that they couldn't make up their minds +to part; so they farm the place together to this day. +</P> + +<P> +And if Harry has prospered, and John too, it's no more than they +deserve, and a blessing on brotherly love, as mother says. And if my +dear children are the finest anywhere on the South Downs, that's by +the blessing of God too, I suppose, and it doesn't become me to say +so. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="acting"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +ACTING FOR THE BEST +</H3> + +<P> +I HAVE no patience with people who talk that kind of nonsense about +marrying for love and the like. For my part I don't know what they +mean, and I don't believe they know it themselves. It's only a sort +of fashion of talking. I never could see what there was to like in +one young man more than another, only, of course, you might favour +some more than others if they was better to do. +</P> + +<P> +My cousin Mattie was different. She must set up to be in love, and +walk home from church with Jack Halibut Sunday after Sunday, the +long way round, if you please, through the meadows; and he used to +buy her scent and ribbons at the fair, and send her a big valentine +of lacepaper, and satin ribbons and things, though Lord knows where +he got the money from—honest, I hope—for he hadn't a penny to +bless himself with. +</P> + +<P> +When my uncle found out all this nonsense, being a man of proper +spirit, he put his foot down, and says he— +</P> + +<P> +'Mattie, my girl, I would be the last to say anything against any +young man you fancied, especially a decent chap like young Halibut, +if his prospects was anything like as good as could be expected, but +you can't pretend poor Jack's are, him being but a blacksmith's man, +and not in regular work even. Now, let's have no waterworks,' he +went on, for Mattie had got the corner of her apron up and her mouth +screwed down at the corners. 'I've known what poverty is, my girl, +and you shan't never have a taste of it with my consent.' +</P> + +<P> +'I don't care how poor I be, father,' said Mattie, 'it's Jack I care +about.' +</P> + +<P> +'There's a girl all over,' says uncle, for he was a sensible man in +those days. 'The bit I've put by for you, lass, it's enough for one, +but it's not enough for two. And when young Halibut can show as +much, you shall be cried in church the very next Sunday. But, +meantime, there must be no kisses, no more letters, and no more +walking home from churches. Now, you give me your word—and keep it +I know you will—like an honest girl.' +</P> + +<P> +So Mattie she gave him her word, though much against her will; and +as for Jack, I suppose, man-like, he didn't care much about staying +in the village after there was a stop put to his philandering and +kissing and scent and so on. So what does he do, but he ups and offs +to America (assisted emigration) 'to make his fortune,' says he. +</P> + +<P> +And never word nor sign did we hear of him for three blessed years. +Mattie was getting quite an old maid, nigh on two-and-twenty, and I +was past nineteen, when one morning there come a letter from Jack. +</P> + +<P> +My father and mother were dead this long time, so I lived with uncle +and Mattie at the farm. What offers I had had is neither here nor +there. At any rate, whatever they were, they weren't good enough. +</P> + +<P> +But Mattie might have been married twice over if she had liked, and +to folks that would have been quite a catch to a girl like her +getting on in years. She might have had young Bath for one, the +strawberry grower; and what if he did drink a bit of a Saturday? He +was taking his hundreds of pounds to the Bank every week in canvas +bags, as all the world knew. +</P> + +<P> +But no, she must needs hanker after Jack, and that's why I say it's +such nonsense. +</P> + +<P> +Well, when the letter come, I was up to my elbows in the +jam-making—raspberry and currant it was,—and Mattie, she was down +in the garden getting the last berries off the canes. My hands were +stained up above the wrist with the currant juice, so I took the +letter up by the corner of my apron and I went down the garden with +it. +</P> + +<P> +'Mattie,' I calls out, 'here's a letter from that good-for-nothing +fellow of yours.' +</P> + +<P> +She couldn't see me, and she thought I was chaffing her about him, +which I often did, to keep things pleasant. +</P> + +<P> +'Don't tease me, Jane,' she says, 'for I do feel this morning as if +I could hardly bear myself as it is.' +</P> + +<P> +And as she said it I came out through the canes close to her with +the letter in my hand. But when she see the letter she dropped the +basket with the raspberries in it (they rolled all about on the +ground right under the peony bush, for that was a silly, +old-fashioned garden, with the flowers and fruit about it anyhow), +and I had a nice business picking them up, and she threw her arms +round my neck and kissed me, and cried like the silly little thing +she was, and thanked me for bringing the letter, just as if I had +anything to do with it, or any wish or will one way or another; and +then she opened the letter, and seemed to forget all about me while +she read it. +</P> + +<P> +I remember the sun was so bright on the white paper that I could +scarce see to read it over her shoulder, she not noticing me, nor +anything else, any more. It was like this— +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +'DEAR MATTIE,—This comes hoping to find you well, as it leaves me +at present. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +'I don't bear no malice over what your father said and done, but I'm +not coming to his house. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +'Now Mattie, if you have forgot me, or think more of some other +chap, don't let anything stand in the way of your letting me know it +straight and plain. But if you do remember how we used to walk from +church, and the valentine, and the piece of poetry about Cupid's +dart that I copied for you out of the poetry-book, you will come and +meet me in the little ash copse, you know where. I may be prevented +coming, for I've a lot of things to see to, and I am going to +Liverpool on Thursday, and if we are to be married you will have to +come to me there, for my business won't bear being left, and I must +get back to it. But if so I will put a note in your prayer-book in +the church. So you had best look in there on your way up on +Wednesday evening. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +'I am taking this way of seeing you because I don't want there to be +any unpleasantness for you if you are tired of me or like some other +chap better. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +'I mean to take a wife back with me, Mattie, for I have done well, +and can afford to keep one in better style than ever your father +kept his. Will you be her, dear? So no more at present from your +affectionate friend and lover, +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +JACK HALIBUT.' +</P> + +<P> +I am quicker at reading writing than Mattie, and I had finished the +letter and was picking up the raspberries before she come to the +end, where his name was signed with all the little crosses round it. +</P> + +<P> +'Well?' says I, as she folded it up and unbuttoned two buttons of +her dress to push it inside. 'Well,' says I, 'what's the best news?' +</P> + +<P> +'He's come home again,' she says. And I give you my word she did +look like a rose as she said it. 'He's come home again, Jane, and +it's all right, and he likes me just as much as ever he did, God +bless him.' +</P> + +<P> +Not a word, you see, about his having made his fortune, which I +might never have known if I hadn't read the letter which I did, +acting for the best. Not that I think it was deceitfulness in the +girl, but a sort of fondness that always kept her from noticing +really important things. +</P> + +<P> +'And does he ask you to have him?' says I. +</P> + +<P> +'Of course he does,' she says; 'I never thought any different. I +never thought but what he would come back for me, just as he said he +would—just as he has.' +</P> + +<P> +By that I knew well enough that she had often had her doubts. +</P> + +<P> +'Oh, well!' says I, 'all's well that ends well. +</P> + +<P> +I hope he's made enough to satisfy uncle—that's all.' +</P> + +<P> +'Oh yes, I think so,' says Mattie, hardly understanding what I was +saying. 'I didn't notice particular. But I suppose that's all +right.' +</P> + +<P> +She didn't notice particular! Now, I put it to you, Was that the +sort of girl to be the wife of a man who had got on like Jack had? I +for one didn't think so. If she didn't care for money why should she +have it, when there was plenty that did? And if love in a cottage +was what she wanted, and kisses and foolishness out of poetry-books, +I suppose one man's pretty much as good as another for that sort of +thing. +</P> + +<P> +So I said, 'Come along in, dear, and we will get along with the +jam-making, and talk it all over nicely. I'm so glad he's come back. +I always say he would, if you remember.' +</P> + +<P> +Not that I ever had, but she didn't seem to know any different, +anyhow. +</P> + +<P> +The next few days Mattie was like a different girl. I will say for +her that she always did her fair share of the work, but she did it +with a face as long as a fiddle. Only now her face was all round and +dimply, and like a child's that has got a prize at school. +</P> + +<P> +On Wednesday afternoon she said to me, 'I'm going to meet Jack, and +don't you say a word to the others about it, Jane. I'll tell father +myself when I come back, if you'll get the tea like a good girl, and +just tell them I've gone up to the village.' +</P> + +<P> +'I don't tell lies as a rule, especially for other people,' I says; +'but I don't mind doing it for you this once.' +</P> + +<P> +And she kissed me (she had got mighty fond of kissing these last few +days), and ran upstairs to get ready. When she come down, if you'll +believe me, she wasn't in her best dress as any other girl would +have been, but she had gone and put on a dowdy old green and white +delaine that had been her Sunday dress, trimmed with green satin +piping, three years before, and the old hat she had with all the +flowers faded and the ribbons crumpled up, that was three year old +too, and the very one she used to walk home from church with him on +Sundays in. And her with a really good blue poplin laid by and a new +bonnet with red roses in it, only come home the week before from +Maidstone. +</P> + +<P> +She come through the kitchen where I was setting the tea, and she +took the key of the church off the nail in the wall. Our farm was +full a mile from the village, and half way between it and the +church. So we kept one key, and Jack's uncle, who was the sexton, he +had the other. +</P> + +<P> +'What time was you to meet Jack?' I says. +</P> + +<P> +'He didn't say,' said she; 'but it used to be half-past six.' +</P> + +<P> +'You're full early,' says I. +</P> + +<P> +'Yes,' she says, 'but I've got to take the butter down to Weller's, +and to call in for something first.' +</P> + +<P> +And, of course, I knew that she meant that she had to call in for +that note at the church. +</P> + +<P> +Minute she was out of the way, I runs into the kitchen, and says to +our maid— +</P> + +<P> +'Poor Mrs. Tibson's not so well, Polly. I'm going over to see her. +Give the men their tea, will you? there's a good girl.' +</P> + +<P> +And she said she would. And in ten minutes I was dressed, and nicely +dressed too, for I had on my white frock and the things I had had at +a girl's wedding the summer before, and a pair of new gloves I had +got out of my butter-money. +</P> + +<P> +Then I went off up the hill to the church after Mattie, even then +not making up my mind what I was going to do, but with an idea that +all things somehow might work together for good to me if I only had +the sense to see how, and turn things that way. +</P> + +<P> +As I come up to the church I was just in time to see her old green +gown going in at the porch, and when I come up the key was in the +door, and she hadn't come out. Quick as thought, the idea come to me +to have a joke with her and lock her in, so she shouldn't meet him, +and next minute I had turned the key in the lock softly, and stole +off through the church porch, and up to the ash copse, which I +couldn't make a mistake about, for there's only one within a mile of +the church. +</P> + +<P> +Jack was there, though it was before the time. I could see his blue +tie and white shirt-front shining through the trees. +</P> + +<P> +When I locked her in I only meant to have a sort of joke—at least, +I think so,—but when I come close up to him and saw how well off he +looked, and the diamond ring on his fingers, and his pin and his +gold chain, I thought to myself— +</P> + +<P> +'Well, you go to Liverpool to-morrow, young man! And she ain't got +your address, and, likely as not, if you go away vexed with her, you +won't leave it with your aunt, and one wife is as good as another, +if not better, and as for her caring for you, that's all affectation +and silliness—so here goes.' +</P> + +<P> +He stepped forward, with his hands held out to me, but when he saw +it was me he stopped short. +</P> + +<P> +'Why, Miss Jane,' he said, 'I beg your pardon. I was expecting quite +a different person.' +</P> + +<P> +'Yes, I know,' I says, 'you was expecting my cousin Mattie.' +</P> + +<P> +'And isn't she coming?' he asks very quick, looking at me full, with +his blue eyes. +</P> + +<P> +'I hope you won't take it hard, Mr. Halibut,' says I, 'but she said +she'd rather not come.' +</P> + +<P> +'Confound it!' says he. +</P> + +<P> +'You see,' I went on, 'it's a long time since you was at home, and +you not writing or anything, and some girls are very flighty and +changeable; and she told me to tell you she was sorry if you were +mistaken in her feelings about you, and she's had time to think +things over since three years ago; and now you're so well off, she +says she's sure you'll find no difficulty in getting a girl suited +to your mind.' +</P> + +<P> +'Did she say that?' he said, looking at me very straight. 'It's not +like her.' +</P> + +<P> +'I don't mean she said so in those words, or that she told me to +tell you so; but that's what I made out to be her mind from what she +said between us two like.' +</P> + +<P> +'But what message did she send to me? For I suppose she sent you to +meet me to-day.' +</P> + +<P> +Then I saw that I should have to be very careful. So to get a little +time I says, 'I don't quite like to tell you, Mr. Halibut, what she +said.' +</P> + +<P> +'Out with it,' says he. 'Don't be a fool, girl!' +</P> + +<P> +'Well, then,' I says, 'if it must be so, her words were these: "Tell +Jack," she says, "that I shall ever wish him well for the sake of +what's past, but all's over betwixt him and me, and—"' +</P> + +<P> +'And what,' says he. +</P> + +<P> +'There wasn't much besides,' says I. +</P> + +<P> +'Good God, don't be such an idiot!' and he looked as if he could +have shaken me. +</P> + +<P> +'Well, then, if you must have it,' says I, 'she says, "Tell Jack +there's at least one girl I know of as would make him a better wife +than I should, and has been thinking of him steady and faithful +these three years, while I've been giving my mind to far other +things."' +</P> + +<P> +'Confound her!' says he, 'little witch. And who is this other girl +that she's so gracious to hand me over to?' +</P> + +<P> +'I don't want to say no more,' says I. 'I'm going now, Mr. Halibut. +Good-bye.' +</P> + +<P> +For well I knew he wouldn't let me go at that. +</P> + +<P> +'Tell me who it is,' says he. 'What! she's not content with giving +me the mitten herself, but she must insult me and this poor girl +too, who's got more sense than she has. Good Heavens, it would serve +her right if I took her at her word, and took the other girl back +with me.' +</P> + +<P> +He was walking up and down with his hands in his pockets, frowning +like a July thunderstorm. +</P> + +<P> +'Wicked, heartless little—but there, thank God! all women aren't +like her. Who's this girl that she's tried to set me against?' +</P> + +<P> +'I can't tell you,' says I. +</P> + +<P> +'Oh! can't you, my girl? But you shall.' +</P> + +<P> +And he catches hold of both my wrists in his hands. +</P> + +<P> +'Leave me go!' I cried, 'you're hurting me.' +</P> + +<P> +'Who is it?' +</P> + +<P> +I was looking down my nose very straight, but when he said that, I +just lifted my eyes up and looked at him, and dropped them. +</P> + +<P> +I've always practised looking like what I meant, or what I wanted +people to think I meant—sort of matching your looks and words, like +you match ribbon and a bit of stuff. +</P> + +<P> +'So you're the girl, are you?' he cries. 'And she thought to put you +to shame before me with her messages? Look here, I'm well off. I'm +going to Liverpool to-night, and back to America next week. I want +to take a wife with me, and she says you have thought of me while +I've been away. Will you marry me, Jane?' +</P> + +<P> +I just looked at him again, and he put his arm round me and gave me +a good kiss. I had to put up with it, though I never could see any +sense in that sort of stuff. Then we walked home together, very +slow, his arm round me. +</P> + +<P> +I daresay some people will think I oughtn't to have acted so, taking +away another girl's fellow. But I was quite sure she would get +plenty that would play love in a cottage with her, and she did not +seem to appreciate her blessings in getting a man that was well off, +and I didn't see how it could be found out, as he was going away +next day. +</P> + +<P> +Now, it would all have gone as well as well if I had had the sense +to offer to see him off at the station, and I ought to have had the +sense to see him well out of the place. But we all make mistakes +sometimes. Mine was in saying 'Good-bye' to him at the corner of the +four-acre and going home by myself, leaving him with three-quarters +of an hour for 'Satan to find some mischief still for idle hands to +do' in. +</P> + +<P> +I said 'Good-bye' to him, and he kissed me, and gave me the address +where to write, and told me what to do. +</P> + +<P> +'For I shan't have no truck with your uncle,' says he. 'I marries my +wife, and I takes her right away.' +</P> + +<P> +It wasn't till I was going up the stairs, untying my bonnet-strings +as I went, and smoothing out the ribbons with my finger and thumb, +for it was my best, that it come to me all in a minute that I had +left Mattie locked up in that church. It was very tiresome, and how +to get her out I didn't know. But I thought maybe she would be +trying some of the other doors, and I might turn the key gently and +away again before she could find out it was unlocked. +</P> + +<P> +So up to the church I went, very hot, and a setting sun, and having +had no tea or anything, and as I began to climb the hill my heart +stood still in my veins, for I heard a sound from the church as I +never expected to hear at that time of the day and week. +</P> + +<P> +'O Lord!' I thought, 'she's tried every other way, and now she's +ringing the bell, and she'll fetch up the whole village, and what +will become of me?' +</P> + +<P> +I made the best haste I could, but I could see more than one black +dot moving up the hill before me that showed me folks on their way +home had heard the bell and was going to see what it meant. And when +I got up there they were trying the big door of the church, not +knowing it was the little side one where the key was, and Jack, he +come up almost the same moment I did, and I knew well enough he had +come to get that note out of her prayer-book for fear some one else +should see it. +</P> + +<P> +'Here, I've got the key in my pocket,' says he, and with that he +opened the door, the bell clang, clang, clanging from the tower all +the time like as if the bellringer was drunk and had got a wager on +to get more beats out of the bell in half an hour than the next man. +</P> + +<P> +Whoever it was that was ringing the bell—and I could give a pretty +good guess who it was—didn't seem to hear us coming, and they went +up the aisle and pulled back the red baize curtain that hides the +bottom of the tower where the ringers stand on Sundays, and there +was Mattie with her old green gown on, and her hair all loose and +down her back with the hard work of bellringing, I suppose, and her +face as white as the bald-faced stag as is painted on the sign down +at the inn in the village. And directly she saw Jack, I knew it was +all over, for she let go the rope and it swung up like a live thing +over our heads, and she made two steps to Jack and had him round the +neck before them all. +</P> + +<P> +'O Jack!' she cried, 'don't look like that. +</P> + +<P> +I came to fetch your letter, and somebody locked me in.' +</P> + +<P> +Jack, he turned to me, and his face was so that I should have been +afraid to have been along of him in a lonely place. +</P> + +<P> +'This is your doings,' says he, 'and all that pack of lies you told +me was out of your own wicked head.' +</P> + +<P> +He had got his arm round her, and was holding on as if she was +something worth having, instead of a silly girl in a frock three +year old. +</P> + +<P> +'I don't know what you mean, I'm sure,' I said; 'it was only a +joke.' +</P> + +<P> +'A joke!' says he. 'Lies, I call it, and I know they're lies by the +very touch of her in my arm here.' +</P> + +<P> +'Oh, well!' I said, 'if you can't take joking better than this, it's +the last time I'll ever try joking with you.' +</P> + +<P> +And I walked out of the church, and the other folks who had run up +to see what was the matter come out with me. And they two was left +alone. +</P> + +<P> +I suppose it was only human nature that, as I come round the church, +I should get on the top of a tombstone and look in to see what they +was doing. It was the little window where a pane was broken by a +stone last summer, and so I heard what they was saying. He was +trying to tell her what I had told him—quite as much for her own +good as for mine, as you have seen; but she didn't seem to want to +listen. +</P> + +<P> +'Oh, never mind all that now, Jack,' she says, with arms round his +neck. 'What does it matter about a silly joke now that I have got +you, and it's all right betwixt us?' +</P> + +<P> +I thought it my duty to go straight home and tell uncle she was up +in the church, kissing and cuddling with Jack Halibut; and he took +his stick and started off after her. +</P> + +<P> +But he met them at the garden gate, and Jack, he came forward, and +he says— +</P> + +<P> +'Mr. Kenworthy, I have had hard thoughts of you this three year, but +I see you was right, for if I had never gone away, I should never +have been able to keep my little girl as she should be kept, and as +I can now, thanks be! and I should never have known how dear she has +loved me this three year.' +</P> + +<P> +And uncle, like the soft-hearted old thing he is, he holds out his +hands, and he says, 'God bless you, my boy, it was for your own good +and hers.' +</P> + +<P> +And they went in to supper. +</P> + +<P> +As for me, I went to bed. I had had all the supper I wanted. And +uncle has never been the same to me since, though I'm sure I tried +to act for the best. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="guilty"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +GUILTY +</H3> + +<P> +IT was my first place and my last, and I don't think we should have +got on in business as we have if it hadn't been for me being for six +or seven years with one of the first families in the county. Though +only a housemaid, you can't help learning something of their ways. +At any rate, you learn what gentlefolks like, and what they can't +abide. But the worst of being housemaid where there's a lot of +servants kept is, that one or other or all of the men-servants is +sure to be wanting to keep company with you. They have nothing else +to do in their spare time, and I suppose it's handy having your +sweetheart living in the house. It doesn't give you so much trouble +with going out in the evening, if not fine. +</P> + +<P> +The coachman was promised to the cook, which, I believe, often takes +place. Tim, the head groom, was a very nice, genteel fellow, and I +daresay I might have taken up with him, if I hadn't met with my +James, though never with John, who was the plague of my life. To +begin with, he had a black whisker, that I couldn't bear to look at, +let alone putting one's face against it, as I should have had to +have done when married, no doubt. And he had a roving black eye, +very yellowy in the white of it, and hair that looked all black and +bear's-greasy, though he always said he never put anything on it +except a little bay rum in moderation. +</P> + +<P> +They tell me I was a pretty girl enough in those days, though looks +is less important than you might think to a housemaid, if only she +dresses neat and has a small waist. And I suppose I must think that +John really did love me in his scowling, black whiskery way. He was +a good footman, I will say that, and had been with the master three +years, and the best of characters; but whatever he might have +thought, I never would have had anything to do with him, even if +James and me had had seas between us broad a-rolling for ever and +ever Amen. He asked me once and he asked me twice, and it was 'no' +and 'no' again. And I had even gone so far as to think that perhaps +I should have to give up a good place to get out of his way, when +master's uncle, old Mr. Oliver, and his good lady, came to stay at +the Court, and with them came James, who was own man to Mr. Oliver. +</P> + +<P> +Mr. Oliver was the funniest-looking old gent I ever see, if I may +say so respectfully. He was as bald as an egg, with a sort of frill +of brown hair going from ear to ear behind; and as if that wasn't +enough, he was shaved as clean as a whistle, as though he had made +up his mind that people shouldn't say that it had all gone to beard +and whiskers, anyway. He wrote books, a great many of them, and you +may often see his name in the papers, and he was for ever poking +about into what didn't concern him, and my Lady, she said to me when +she found me a little put out at him asking about how things went on +in the servants' hall, she said to me— +</P> + +<P> +'You mustn't mind him, Mary,' she said; 'you know he likes to find +out all that he can about everything, so as to put it in his books.' +</P> + +<P> +And he certainly talked to every one he came across—even the +stable-boys—in a way that you could hardly think becoming from a +gentleman to servants, if he wasn't an author, and so to have +allowances made for him, poor man! He talked to the housemaids, and +he talked to the groom, and he talked to the footman that waited on +him at lunch when he had it late, as he did sometimes, owing to him +having been kept past the proper time by his story-writing, for he +wrote a good part of the day most days, and often went up to London +while he was staying with us—to sell his goods, I suppose. He wore +curious clothes, not like most gentlemen, but all wool things, even +to his collars and his boots, which were soft and soppy like felt; +and he took snuff to that degree I wouldn't have believed any human +nose could have borne it, and he must have been a great trial to +Mrs. Oliver until she got used to him and his pottering about all +over the house in his soft-soled shoes; and the mess he made of his +pocket-handkerchieves and his linen! +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Oliver was a round little fat bunch of a woman, if I may say so +in speaking of master's own aunt by marriage, and him a baronet. She +had the most lovely jewellery, and was very fond of wearing it of an +evening, more than most people do when they are staying with +relations and there's no company. She never spoke much except to +say, 'Yes, Dick dear,' and 'No, Dick dear,' when they spoke to each +other; but they were as fond of each other as pigeons on a roof, and +always very pleasant-spoken and nice to wait on. +</P> + +<P> +As for James, he was the jolliest man I ever met, and cook said the +same. He was like Sam Weller in the book, or would have been if he +had lived in those far-off times; but footmen are more genteel now +than they were then. +</P> + +<P> +Anyway, he hadn't been at the Court twenty-four hours before he was +first favourite with every one, and cook made him a Welsh rabbit +with her own hands, 'cause he hadn't been able to get his dinner +comfortable with the rest of us—a thing she wouldn't have done for +Sir William himself at that time of night. As for me, the first time +he looked at me with his jolly blue eyes—it was when he met me +carrying a tray the first morning after he came—my heart gave a +jump inside my print gown, and I said to it as I went downstairs— +</P> + +<P> +'You've met your master, I'm thinking'; and if I did go to church +with him the very first Sunday, which was more than ever I had done +with any of the others, it was after he had asked me plain and +straight to go to church with him some day for good and all. +</P> + +<P> +Now, the next morning, quite early, I was dusting the library, when +John come in with his black face like a thundercloud. +</P> + +<P> +'Look here, Mary,' he says; 'what do you mean by going to church +with that stuck-up London trumpery?' +</P> + +<P> +'Mind your own business,' says I, sharp as you please. +</P> + +<P> +'I am,' he says. 'You are my business—the only business I care a +damn about, or am ever likely to. You don't know how I love you, +Mary,' he says. And I was sorry for him as he spoke. 'I would lie +down in the dirt for you to walk on if it would do you any good, so +long as you didn't walk over me to get to some other chap.' +</P> + +<P> +'I am very sorry for you, John,' says I, 'but I've told you, not +once or twice, but fifty times, that it can never be. And there are +plenty of other girls that would be only too glad to walk out with a +young man like you without your troubling yourself about me.' +</P> + +<P> +He was walking up and down the room like a cat in a cage. Presently +he began to laugh in a nasty, sly, disagreeable way. +</P> + +<P> +'Oh! you think he'll marry you, do you?' says he. 'But he's just +amusing himself with you till he gets back to London to his own +girl. You let him see you was only amusing yourself with him, and +you come out with me when you get your evening.' +</P> + +<P> +And he took the dusting-brush out of my hand, and caught hold of my +wrists. +</P> + +<P> +'It's all a lie!' I cried; 'and I wonder you can look me in the face +and tell it. Him and me are going to be married as soon as he has +saved enough for a little public, and I never want to speak to you +again; and if you don't let go of my hands, I'll scream till I fetch +the house down, master and all, and then where will you be?' +</P> + +<P> +He scowled at that, but he let my hands go directly. +</P> + +<P> +'Have it your own way,' he said. 'But I tell you, you won't marry +him, and you'll find he won't want to marry you, and you'll marry +me, my girl. And when you have married me, you shall cry your eyes +out for every word you have said now.' +</P> + +<P> +'Oh, shall I, Mr. Liar?' says I, for my blood was up; 'before that +happens, you'll have to change him into a liar and me into a fool +and yourself into an honest man, and you'll find that the hardest of +all.' And with that I threw the dusting-brush at him—which was a +piece of wicked temper I oughtn't to have given way to—and ran out +of the door, and I heard him cursing to himself something fearful as +I went down the passage. +</P> + +<P> +'Good thing the gentlefolks are abed still,' I said to myself; and I +didn't tell a soul about it, even cook, the truth being I was +ashamed to. +</P> + +<P> +Well, everything went on pretty much the same as usual for two or +three weeks, and I thought John was getting the better of his +silliness, because he made a show of being friendly to James and was +respectful to me, even when we was alone. Then came that dreadful +day that I shall never forget if I live to be a hundred years old. +Dinner was half an hour later than usual on account of Mr. Oliver +having gone up to town on his business; but he didn't get home when +expected, and they sat down without him after all. I was about my +work, turning down beds and so forth, and I had done Mrs. Oliver's +about ten minutes, and was in my lady's room, when Mrs. Oliver's own +maid came running in with a face like paper. +</P> + +<P> +'Oh, what ever shall I do?' she cried, wringing her hands, as they +say in books, and I always thought it nonsense, but she certainly +did, though I never saw any one do it before or since. +</P> + +<P> +'What is it?' I asked her. +</P> + +<P> +'It's my mistress's diamond necklace,' she said. 'She was going to +wear it to-night. And then she said, No, she wouldn't; she'd have +the emeralds, and I left it on the dressing-table instead of locking +it up, and now it's gone!' +</P> + +<P> +I went into Mrs. Oliver's room with her, and there was the jewel-box +with the pretty shining things turned out on the dressing-table, for +Mrs. Oliver had a heap of jewellery that had come to her from her +own people, and she as fond of wearing it as if she was slim and +twenty, instead of being fifty, and as round as an orange. We looked +on the dressing-table and we looked on the floor, and we looked in +the curtains to see if it had got in any of them. But look high, +look low, no diamond necklace could we find. So at last Scott—that +was Mrs. Oliver's maid—said there was nothing for it but to go and +tell her mistress. The ladies were in the drawing-room by this time. +So she went down all of a tremble, and in the hall there was Mrs. +Oliver looking anxious out of the front door, which was open, it +being summer and the house standing in its own park. +</P> + +<P> +'Mr. Oliver is very late, Scott,' she says. 'I am getting anxious +about him.' +</P> + +<P> +And as she spoke, and before Scott could answer, there was his step +on the gravel, and he came in at the front door with his little +black bag in his hand that I suppose he carried his stories in to +see if people would like to buy them. +</P> + +<P> +'Hullo! Scott,' he says, 'have you seen a ghost?' And, indeed, she +looked more dead than alive. She gulped in her throat, but she could +not speak. +</P> + +<P> +'Here, young woman,' says Mr. Oliver to me, 'you haven't lost your +head altogether. What's it all about?' +</P> + +<P> +So I told him as well as I could, and by this time master had come +out and my Lady, and you never saw any one so upset as they were. +All the house was turned out of window, hunting for the necklace; +though, of course, not having legs, it couldn't have walked by +itself out of Mrs. Oliver's room. All the servants was called up, +even to the kitchen-maid; and those who were not angry, were +frightened, and, what with fright and anger, there wasn't one of us, +I do believe, as didn't look as they had got the necklace on under +their clothes that very minute. John was very angry indeed. 'Do they +think we'd take their dirty necklace?' he said, as we were going up. +'It's enough to ruin all of us, this kind of thing happening, and +leaving the doors open so that any one could get in and walk clear +off with it without a stain on their character, and us left with +none to speak of.' +</P> + +<P> +So when master had asked us all a lot of questions, and we were told +we could go, John stepped out and said— +</P> + +<P> +'I am sure I am only expressing the feelings of my fellow-servants +when I say that we should wish our boxes searched and our rooms, so +that there shall be no chance for any one to say afterwards that it +lays at any of our doors.' +</P> + +<P> +And Mrs. Oliver began to cry, and she said 'No, no, she wouldn't put +that insult on any one.' But Mr. Oliver, who hadn't been saying +much, though so talkative generally, but kept taking snuff at a rate +that was dreadful to see, he said— +</P> + +<P> +'The young man is quite right, my dear; and if you don't mind,' he +says to master, 'I think it had better be done.' +</P> + +<P> +And so it was done, and I don't know how to write about it now, +though it was never true. They came to my room and they looked into +all my drawers and boxes except my little hat-tin, and when they +wanted the key of that, I said, silly-like, not having any idea that +they could think that I could do such a thing, 'I'd rather you +didn't look into that. It's only some things I don't want any one to +see.' +</P> + +<P> +And the reason was that I'd got some bits of things in it that I'd +got the week before in the town towards getting my things for the +wedding ready, and I felt somehow I didn't want any one to see them +till James did. And they all looked very queer at me when I said +that, and my Lady said— +</P> + +<P> +'Mary, give me the key at once.' +</P> + +<P> +So I did, and oh! I shall never forget it. They took out the +flannel, and the longcloth and things, and the roll of embroidery +that I was going to trim them with, and rolled inside that, if +you'll believe me, there was the necklace like a shining snake +coiled up. I never said a word, being struck silly. I didn't cry or +even say anything as people do in books when these things happen to +them; but Mrs. Oliver burst out crying, God bless her for it! and my +Lady said, 'O Mary, I'd never have believed it of you any more than +I would of myself!' +</P> + +<P> +And Mr. Oliver he said to master, 'Have all the servants into the +library, William. Perhaps some one else is in it too.' +</P> + +<P> +But nobody said a word to say that it wasn't me, and indeed how +could they? +</P> + +<P> +I should think it's like being had up for murder, standing there in +the library with all the servants holding off from me as if I had +got something catching, and master and my Lady and Mr. and Mrs. +Oliver in leather armchairs, all of a row, looking like a bench of +magistrates. I could not think, though I tried hard—I could only +feel as if I was drowning and fighting for breath. +</P> + +<P> +'Now, Mary,' says Master, 'what have you got to say?' +</P> + +<P> +'I never touched it, sir,' I said; 'I never put it there; I don't +know who did; and may God forgive them, for I never could.' +</P> + +<P> +Then my Lady said, 'Mary, I can hardly believe it of you even now, +but why wouldn't you let us have the key of your box?' +</P> + +<P> +Then I turned hot and cold all of a minute, and I looked round, and +there wasn't a face that looked kind at me except Mr. Oliver's, and +he nodded at me, taking snuff all over his fat white waistcoat. +</P> + +<P> +'Speak up, girl,' he said, 'speak up.' +</P> + +<P> +So then I said, 'I'm a-going to be married, my Lady, and it was bits +of things I'd got towards my wedding clothes.' +</P> + +<P> +I looked at James to see if he believed it, and his face was like +lead, and his eyes wild that used to be so jolly, and to see him +look like that made my heart stand still, and I cried out— +</P> + +<P> +'O my God, strike me down dead, for live I can't after this!' +</P> + +<P> +And at that, James spoke up, and he said, speaking very quick and +steady, 'I wish to confess that I took it, and I put it in her box, +thinking to take it away again after. We were to have been married, +and I wanted the money to start in a little pub.' +</P> + +<P> +And everybody stood still, and you could have heard a pin drop, and +Mr. Oliver went on nodding his head and taking snuff till I could +have killed him for it; and I looked at James, and I could have +fallen at his feet and worshipped him, for I saw in a minute why he +said it. He believed it was me, and he wanted to save me. So then I +said to master— +</P> + +<P> +'The thing was found in my box, sir, and I'll take the consequences +if I have to be hanged for it. But don't you believe a word James +says. He never touched it. It wasn't him.' +</P> + +<P> +'How do you know it wasn't him,' says master very sharp. 'If you +didn't take it, how do you know who did?' +</P> + +<P> +'How do I know?' I cried, forgetting for a moment who I was speaking +to. 'Why, if you'd half a grain of sense among the lot of you, you'd +know why I know it's not him. If you felt to a young man like I feel +to James, you'd know in your heart that he could not have done such +a thing, not if there was fifty diamond necklaces found in fifty +pockets on him at the same time.' +</P> + +<P> +They said nothing, but Mr. Oliver chuckled in his collar till I'd +have liked to strangle him with my two hands round his fat throat. +And I went on— +</P> + +<P> +'I'm as sure he didn't do it as I am that I didn't do it myself, and +as he would have been that I didn't if he had really loved me, as he +said, instead of believing that I could do such a thing, and trying +to save me with a black lie—God bless him for it.' +</P> + +<P> +And James he never looked at me, but he said again, 'Don't mind +her—she's off her head with fright about me. You send me off to +prison as soon as you like, sir.' +</P> + +<P> +And still none of the others spoke, but Mr. Oliver leaned back in +his chair, and he clapped his hands softly as though he was at a +play. 'Bravo!' he says, 'bravo!' +</P> + +<P> +And the others looked at him as if they thought he had gone out of +his mind. +</P> + +<P> +'It's a very pretty drama, very nicely played, but now it's time to +put an end to it. Do you want to see the villain?' he says to +master, and master never answering him, only staring, he turned +quite sharp and sudden and pointed to John as he stood near the door +with his black eyes burning like coals. 'You took it,' said Mr. +Oliver, 'and you put it in Mary's box. Oh! you needn't start. I know +it's true without that.' +</P> + +<P> +John had started, but he pulled himself together in a minute. The +man had pluck, I will say that. He spoke quite firm and respectful. +'And why should I have done that, sir, if you please, when all the +house knows that I have been courting Mary fair and honest this two +year?' +</P> + +<P> +Mr. Oliver tapped his snuff-box and grinned all over his big smooth +face. 'When you do your courting fair and honest, young man, you +should be careful not to do it in the library with the window open. +I was in the verandah, and I heard you threaten that she should +never marry James, and that she should marry you; and that you would +be revenged on her for her bad taste in preferring him to you.' +</P> + +<P> +John drew a deep breath. 'That's nothing, sir, is it?' he says to +master. 'Every one in the house knows I have been sorry for a hasty +word, and have been the best friends with both of them for these +three weeks.' +</P> + +<P> +Mr. Oliver got up and put his snuff-box on the table, and his hands +in his trouser pockets. 'You can send for the police, William,' he +said to master, 'because as a matter of fact, I saw the +black-whiskered gentleman with the necklace in his hand. I did get +home late to-night, but not so late as you thought, and I came in +through the open door and was up in my dressing-room when that +scoundrel sneaked into my wife's room and took the necklace to ruin +an innocent girl with. What a thorough scoundrel you are, though, +aren't you?' he said to John. +</P> + +<P> +Then John, he shrugged his shoulders as much as to say, 'It's all up +now,' and he said to Mr. Oliver very politely, 'You are always fond +of poking your nose into other people's business, sir, and I daresay +you'd like to know why I did it. Oh yes. You know everything, you +do,' says John, growing very white, and speaking angry and quick, +'with your writing, and your snuff, and your gossiping with the +servants, which no gentleman would do, and your nasty, sneaking, +Jaeger-felt boots, and your silly old tub of a wife. I knew that +smooth-spoken man of yours would believe anything against her, and I +knew he would never marry her after a set-out like this, and I knew +I should get her when she found I stuck to her through it all, as I +should have done, and as I would have done too, if she had taken +fifty diamond necklaces.' +</P> + +<P> +'Send for the police,' said master, but nobody moved. For Mrs. +Oliver, who had been crying like a waterworks ever since we came +down into the library, said quite sudden, 'O Dick dear! let him go. +Don't prosecute him. See, he's lost everything, and he's lost her, +and he must have been mad with love for her or he wouldn't have done +such a thing.' +</P> + +<P> +Now, wasn't that a true lady to speak up like that for him after +what he'd said of her? Mr. Oliver looked surprised at her speaking +up like that, her that hardly ever said a word except 'Yes, Dick +dear,' and 'No, Dick dear,' and then he shrugs his shoulders and he +says, 'You are right, my dear, he's punished enough.' +</P> + +<P> +And John turned to go like a dog that has been whipped; but at the +door he faced round, and he said to Mrs. Oliver, 'You're a good +woman, and I'm sorry I said what I did about you. But for the other +I'm not sorry, not if it was my last word.' +</P> + +<P> +And with that he went out of the room, and out of the house through +the front door. He had no relations and he had no friends, and I +suppose he had nowhere to go with his character gone, and so it +happened that was truly his last word as far as any one knows. For +he was found next morning on the level-crossing after the down +express had passed. +</P> + +<P> +You never saw such a fuss as every one made of me and James +afterwards. I might have been a queen and him a king. But when it +was all over it stuck in my mind that he oughtn't to have doubted +me, and so I wouldn't name the day for over a year, though Mrs. +Oliver had bought him a nice little hotel and given it to him +herself; but when the year was up, Mr. and Mrs. Oliver came down to +stay again, and seeing them brought it all back, and his having +tried to save me as he had seemed more than his having doubted me. +And so I married him, and I don't think any one ever made a better +match. James says he made a better match, and if I don't agree with +him, it's only right and proper that he should think so, and I thank +God that he does every hour of my life. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="son"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +SON AND HEIR +</H3> + +<P> +SIR JASPER was always the best of masters to me and to all of us; +and he had that kind of way with him, masterful and gentle at the +same time, like as if he was kind to you for his own pleasure, and +ordering you about for your own good, that I believe any of us would +have cut our hand off at the wrist if he had told us to. +</P> + +<P> +Lady Breynton had been dead this many a year. She hadn't come to her +husband with her hands empty. They say that Sir Jasper had been very +wild in his youth, and that my Lady's money had come in very handy +to pull the old place together again. She worshipped the ground Sir +Jasper walked on, as most women did that he ever said a kind word +to. But it never seemed to me that he took to her as much as you +might have expected a warm-hearted gentleman like him to do. But he +took to her baby wonderful. I was nurse to that baby from the first, +and a fine handsome little chap he was, and when my Lady died he was +wholly given over to my care. And I loved the child; indeed, I did +love him, and should have loved him to the end but for one thing, +and that comes in its own place in my story. But even those who +loved young Jasper best couldn't help seeing he hadn't his father's +winning ways. And when he grew up to man's estate, he was as wild as +his father had been before him. But his wild ways were the ways that +make young men enemies, not friends, and out of all that came to the +house, for the hunting, or the shooting, or what not, I used to +think there wasn't one would have held out a hand to my young master +if he had been in want of it. And yet I loved him because I had +brought him up, and I never had a child of my own. I never wished to +be married, but I used to wish that little Jasper had been my own +child. I could have had an authority over him then that I hadn't as +his nurse, and perhaps it might have all turned out differently. +</P> + +<P> +There were many tales about Sir Jasper, but I didn't think it was my +place to listen to them. +</P> + +<P> +Only, when it's your own eyes, it's different, and I couldn't help +seeing how like young Robert, the under-gamekeeper, was to the +Family. He had their black, curly hair, and merry Irish eyes, and +he, if you please, had just Sir Jasper's winning ways. +</P> + +<P> +Why he was taken on as gamekeeper no one could make out, for when he +first came up to the Hall to ask the master for a job, they tell me +he knew no more of gamekeeping than I do of Latin. Young Robert was +a steady chap, and used to read and write of an evening instead of +spending a jolly hour or two at the Dove and Branch, as most young +fellows do, and as, indeed, my young master did too often. And Sir +Jasper, he gave him books without end and good advice, and would +have him so often about him he set everybody's tongue wagging to a +tune more merry than wise. And young Robert loved the master, of +course. Who didn't? +</P> + +<P> +Well, there came a day when the Lord above saw fit to put out the +sunshine like as if it had been a bedroom candle; for Sir Jasper, he +was brought back from the hunting-field with his back broke. +</P> + +<P> +I always take a pleasure in remembering that I was with him to the +last, and did everything that could be done for him with my own +hands. He lingered two days, and then he died. +</P> + +<P> +It was the hour before the dawn, when there is always a wind, no +matter how still the night, a chilly wind that seems to find out the +marrow of your bones, and if you are nursing sick folk, you bank up +the fire high and watch them extra careful till the sun gets up. +</P> + +<P> +Sir Jasper opened his eyes and looked at me—oh! so kindly. It +brings tears into my eyes when I think of it. 'Nelly,' he says, 'I +know I can trust you.' +</P> + +<P> +And I said, 'Yes, sir.' And so he could, whatever it might have +been. What happened afterwards wasn't my fault, and couldn't have +been guarded against. +</P> + +<P> +'Then go,' he said, 'to my old secretaire and open it.' +</P> + +<P> +And I did. There was rows of pigeon-holes inside, and little drawers +with brass knobs. +</P> + +<P> +'You take hold of the third knob from the right, Nelly,' said he. +'Don't pull it; give it a twist round.' I did, and lo and behold! a +little drawer jumped out at me from quite another part of the +secretaire. +</P> + +<P> +'You see what's in it, Nelly?' says he. +</P> + +<P> +It was a green leather case tied round with a bit of faded ribbon. +</P> + +<P> +'Now, what I want you to do,' he says, 'is to lay that beside me +when it's all over. I have always had my doubts about the dead +sleeping so quiet as some folks say. But I think I shall sleep if +you lay that beside me, for I am very tired, Nelly,' he said, 'very +tired.' +</P> + +<P> +Then I went back to his bed, where he lay looking quite calm and +comfortable. +</P> + +<P> +'The end has come very suddenly,' says he; 'but it is best this +way.' +</P> + +<P> +Then we was both quiet a bit. +</P> + +<P> +'I may be wrong,' he went on presently, his face quite straight, but +a laugh in his blue eye. 'I may be wrong, Nelly, but I think you +would like to kiss me before I die—I know well enough you'll do it +after.' +</P> + +<P> +And when he said that, I was glad I had never kissed another man. +And soon after that, it being the coldest hour of all the night, he +moved his head on his pillow and said— +</P> + +<P> +'I'm off now, Nelly, but you needn't wake the doctors. It's very +dark outside. Hand me out, my girl, hand me out.' So I gave him my +hand, and he died holding it. Whether I grieved much or little over +my old master is no one's business but my own. I went about the +house, and I did my duty—ever since Master Jasper had been grown up +I had been housekeeper. I did my duty, I say, and before the coffin +lid was screwed down I laid that green leather case under the shroud +by my master's side; and just as I had done it I turned round +feeling that some one was in the room, and there stood young Master +Jasper at the door looking at me. +</P> + +<P> +'All's ready now,' I said to the undertaker's men, and called them +in, and young Master Jasper, he followed me along the passage. 'What +were you doing?' +</P> + +<P> +'I was putting something in the master's coffin he told me to put +there.' +</P> + +<P> +'What was it?' he asked, very sharp and sudden. +</P> + +<P> +'How should I know?' says I. 'It's in a case. It may be some old +letter or a lock of hair as belonged to your mother.' +</P> + +<P> +'Come into my room,' he said, and I followed him in. He looked very +pale and anxious, and when he'd shut the door he spoke— +</P> + +<P> +'Look here, Nelly, I'm going to trust you. My father was very angry +with me about some little follies of mine, and he told me the other +night he had left a good slice of the estate away from me. Do you +think that packet you put in the coffin had anything to do with it?' +</P> + +<P> +'Good Lord, bless your soul, sir, no,' I said. 'That was no will or +lawyer's letters, it was but some little token of remembrance he set +store by.' +</P> + +<P> +'Thanks, Nelly, that was all I wanted to know.' +</P> + +<P> +No one ever knows who tells these things, but it had leaked out +somehow that that slice of the estate was to belong to young Robert +the gamekeeper, and you may be sure the tongues went wagging above a +bit. But it seemed to me, if it was so, my master was right to make +a proper provision for Robert as well as for Jasper. However, nobody +could be sure of anything until after the funeral. +</P> + +<P> +The doctor was staying in the house, and master's younger brother, +besides the lawyer and young Master Jasper; so I had many things to +see to, and ought to have been tired enough to get to sleep easy the +night before he was buried. But somehow I couldn't sleep. I couldn't +help thinking of my master as I had known him all these years. Him +being always so gentle and so kind, and so light-hearted, it didn't +seem likely he could have had young Robert on his conscience all the +time; and yet what was I to think? And then my poor Jasper—I say +'poor,' but I never loved and pitied him less than I did that night. +He had lost such a father, and he could go troubling about whether +he had got the whole estate or not. So I lay awake, and I thought of +the coffin lying between its burning tapers in the great bedroom, +and I wished they had not screwed him down, for then I could have +gone, late as it was, and had another look at my master's face. And +as I lay it seemed to me that I heard a door opened, and then a +step, and then a key turned. Now, the master never locked his door, +so the key of that room turned rusty in the lock, and before I had +time to think more than that I was out of bed and in my +dressing-gown, creeping along the passage. Sure enough, my master's +door was open, as I saw by the streak of light across the corridor. +I walked softly on my bare feet, and no one could have heard me go +along the thick carpet. When I got to the door, I saw that what I +had been trying not to think of was really true. Master Jasper was +there taking the screws out of his father's coffin to see what was +in that green leather case. +</P> + +<P> +I stood there and looked. I could not have moved, not for the +Queen's crown, if it had been offered me then and there. One after +another he took the screws out and laid them on the little bedside +table, where the master used to keep his pistols of a night. When +all the screws was out he lifted the lid in both his arms and set it +on the bed, where it lay looking like another coffin. Then he began +to search for what I had put in beside his father. +</P> + +<P> +Now, I may be a heartless woman, and I suppose I am, or how account +for it? But when I saw my young master go to his father's coffin +like that, and begin to serve his own interest and his own +curiosity, every spark of love I had ever had for the boy died out, +and I cared no more for him than if he had been the first comer. +</P> + +<P> +If he had kissed his father, or so much as looked kindly at the dead +face in the coffin, it would have been different. But he hadn't a +look or a thought to spare for him as gave him life, and had +humoured and spoiled and petted and made much of him all his twenty +years. Not a thought for his father; all his thoughts was to find +out what his father hadn't wished him to know. +</P> + +<P> +Now I was feeling set that Master Jasper should never know what was +in that green leather case, and I cared no more for what he thought +or what he felt than I should have done if he had been a common +thief as, God forgive me, he was in my eyes at that hour. So I crept +behind him softly, softly, an inch at a time, till I got to where I +could see the coffin; and if you'll believe a foolish old woman, I +kept looking at that dead face till I nigh forgot what I was there +for. And while I was standing mazed like and stupid, young Master +Jasper had got out the green case, and was turning over what was in +it in his hands. +</P> + +<P> +I got him by the two elbows behind, and he started like a horse that +has never felt even the whip will do at the spur's touch. Almost at +the same time my heart came leaping into my mouth, and if ever a +woman nearly died of fright, I was that woman, for some one behind +me put a hand on my shoulder and said, 'What's all this?' +</P> + +<P> +Young Sir Jasper and I both turned sharp. It was the doctor. His +ears were as quick as mine, and he had heard the key too, I suppose. +Anyhow, there he was, and he picked up the papers young Sir Jasper +had let fall, and says he, 'I will deal with these, young gentleman. +Go you to your room.' And Sir Jasper, like a kicked hound, went. +Then I began to tell my share in that night's work. But the doctor +stopped me, for he had seen me and watched me all along. Then he +stood by the coffin, and went through what was in the little leather +case. +</P> + +<P> +'I must keep these now,' he said, 'but you shall keep your promise +and put them beside him before he is buried.' +</P> + +<P> +And the next day, before the funeral, I went alone and saw my master +again, and gave him his little case back, and I thought I should +have liked him to know that I had done my best for him, but he could +not have known that without knowing of what young Sir Jasper had +done, and that would have broken his heart; so when all's said and +done, perhaps it's as well the dead know nothing. +</P> + +<P> +And after the funeral we was all in the library to hear the will +read, and the lawyer he read out that the personal property went to +Robert the gamekeeper, and the entailed property would of course be +young Sir Jasper's. +</P> + +<P> +And young Sir Jasper, oh that ever I should have called him my +boy!—he rose up in his place and said that his father was a doting +old fool and out of his mind, and he would have the law of them, +anyhow, and my late dear master not yet turned of fifty! And then +the doctor got up and he said— +</P> + +<P> +'Stop a bit, young man; I have a word or two to say here.' +</P> + +<P> +And he up and told before all the folks there straight out what had +passed last night, and how young Sir Jasper had willed to rob his +father's coffin. +</P> + +<P> +'Now, you'll want to know what was in the little green leather +case,' he says at the end. 'And it was this,—a lock of hair and a +wedding ring, and a marriage certificate, and a baptism certificate; +and you, Jasper, are but the son by a second marriage; and Sir +Robert, I congratulate you, for you are come to your own.' +</P> + +<P> +'Do I get nothing, then?' shrieked young Sir Jasper, trembling like +a woman, and with the devil looking out of his eyes. +</P> + +<P> +'Your father intended you to have the entailed estates, right or +wrong; that was his choice. But you chose to know what he wished to +hide from you, and now you know that the entailed estates belong to +your brother.' +</P> + +<P> +'But the personalty?' +</P> + +<P> +'You forget,' said the doctor, rubbing his hands, with a sour smile, +'that your father provided for that in the will to which you so much +objected.' +</P> + +<P> +'Then, curse his memory and curse you,' cried Jasper, and flung out +of the house; nor have I ever seen him again, though he did set +lawyer folk to work in London to drive Sir Robert out of his own +place. But to no purpose. +</P> + +<P> +And Sir Robert, he lives in the old house, and is loved as his +father was before him by all he says a kind word to, and his kind +words are many. +</P> + +<P> +And to me he is all that I used to wish the boy Jasper might be, and +he has a reason for loving me which Jasper never had. +</P> + +<P> +For he said to me when he first spoke to me after his father's +funeral— +</P> + +<P> +'My mother was a farmer's girl,' he said, 'and your father was a +farmer, so I feel we come, as it were, of one blood; and besides +that, I know who my father's friends were. I never forget those +things.' +</P> + +<P> +I still live on as a housekeeper at the Hall. My master left me no +money, but he bade his heir keep me on in my old place. I am glad to +think that he did not choose to leave me money, but instead the +great picture of himself that hung in the Hall. It hangs in my room +now, and looks down on me as I write. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="love"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +ONE WAY OF LOVE +</H3> + +<P> +YOU don't believe in coincidences, which is only another way of +saying that all things work together for good to them that love +God—or them that don't, for that matter, if they are honestly +trying to do what they think right. Now I do. +</P> + +<P> +I had as good a time as most young fellows when I was young. My +father farmed a bit of land down Malling way, and I walked out with +the prettiest girl in our parts. Jenny was her name, Jenny Teesdale; +her people come from the North. Pretty as a pink Jenny was, and neat +in her ways, and would make me a good wife, every one said, even my +own mother; and when a man's mother owns that about a girl he may +know he's got hold of a treasure. Now Jenny—her name was Jane, but +we called her Jenny for short—she had a cousin Amelia, who was +apprenticed to the millinery and dress-making in Maidstone; the two +had been brought up together from little things, and they was that +fond of each other it was a pleasure to see them together. I was +fond of Amelia, too, like as a brother might be; and when Jenny and +me walked out of a Sunday, as often as not Amelia would come with +us, and all went on happy enough for a while. Then I began to notice +Jenny didn't seem to care so much about walking out, and one Sunday +afternoon she said she had a headache and would rather stay at home +by the fire; for it was early spring, and the days chilly. Amelia +and me took a turn by ourselves, and when we got back to Teesdale's +farm, there was Jenny, wonderfully brisked up, talking and laughing +away with young Wheeler, whose father keeps the post-office. I was +not best pleased, I can tell you, but I kept a still tongue in my +head; only, as time went on, I couldn't help seeing Jenny didn't +seem to be at all the same to me, and Amelia seemed sad, too. +</P> + +<P> +I was in the hairdressing then, and serving my time, so it was only +on Sundays or an evening that I could get out. But at last I said to +myself, 'This can't go on; us three that used to be so jolly, we're +as flat as half a pint of four ale; and I'll know the reason why,' +says I, 'before I'm twenty-four hours older.' So I went to +Teesdale's with that clear fixed in my head. +</P> + +<P> +Jenny was not in the house, but Amelia was. The old folks had gone +to a Magic Lantern in the schoolroom, and Amelia was alone in the +house. +</P> + +<P> +'I'll have it out with her,' thinks I; so as soon as we had passed +the time of day and asked after each other's relations, I says, +'Look here, Amelia, what is it that's making mischief between you +and me and Jenny, as used to be so jolly along of each other?' +</P> + +<P> +She went red, and she went white and red again. +</P> + +<P> +'Don't 'e ask me, Tom—don't 'e now, there's a good fellow.' +</P> + +<P> +And, of course, I asked her all the more. +</P> + +<P> +Then says she, 'Jenny'll never forgive me if I tell you.' +</P> + +<P> +'Jenny shan't never know,' says I; and I swore it, too. +</P> + +<P> +Then says Amelia, 'I can't abear to tell you, Tom, for I know it +will break your 'eart. But Jenny, she don't care for you no more; +it's Joe Wheeler as she fancies now, and she's out with him this +very minute, as here we stand. +</P> + +<P> +'I'll wring her neck for her,' says I. Then when I had taken time to +think a bit, 'I can't believe this, Amelia,' says I, 'not even from +you. I must ask Jenny.' +</P> + +<P> +'But that's just what you've swore not to do,' says she. 'She'll +never forgive me if you do, Tom; and what need of asking when for +the trouble of walking the length of the road you can see them +together? But if I tell you where to find them, you swear you won't +speak or make a fuss, because she'd know I'd told you?' +</P> + +<P> +'I swear I won't,' says I. +</P> + +<P> +'Well, then,' says Amelia, 'I don't seem to be acting fair to her; +but, take it the other way, I can't abear to stand by and see you +deceived, Tom. If you go by the churchyard an hour from now, you'll +see them in the porch; but don't you say a word to them, and never +say I told you. Now, be off, Tom,' says she. +</P> + +<P> +It was early summer by this time, and the evenings long. I don't +think any man need envy me what I felt as I walked about the lanes +waiting till it was time to walk up to the church and find out for +certain that I'd been made a fool of. +</P> + +<P> +It was dusk when I opened the churchyard gate and walked up the +path. +</P> + +<P> +There she was, sure enough, in her Sunday muslin with the violet +sprig, and her black silk jacket with the bugles, and her arm was +round Joe Wheeler's neck—confound him!—and his arms were round her +waist, both of them. They didn't see me, and I stood for a minute +and looked at them, and but for what I'd swore to Amelia I believe I +should have taken Wheeler by the throat and shaken the life out of +him then and there. But I had swore, and I turned sharp and walked +away, and I never went up to Teesdale's nor to my father's farm, but +I went straight back to Pound's, the man I was bound to, and I wrote +a letter to Jenny and one to Amelia, and in Amelia's I only said— +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +'DEAR AMELIA,—Thank you very much; you were quite right. +<BR><BR> +TOM.' +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +And in the other I said— +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +Jenny, I've had pretty well enough of you; you can go to the devil +your own way. So no more at present from your sincere well-wisher +TOM. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +'P.S.—I'm going for a soldier.' +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +And I left everything: my master that I was bound to, and my trade +and my father. And I went straight off to London. And I should have +been a soldier right enough but that I fell in with a fireman, and +he persuaded me to go in for that business, which is just as +exciting as a soldier's, and a great deal more dangerous, most +times. And a fireman I was for six or eight years, but I never cared +to walk out with another girl when I thought of Jenny. I didn't tell +my folks where I'd gone, and for years I heard nothing from them. +</P> + +<P> +And one night there was a fire in a street off the Borough—a high +house it was,—and I went up the ladder to a window where there was +a woman screaming, and directly I see her face I see it was Jenny. +</P> + +<P> +I fetched her down the ladder right enough, and she clung round my +neck (she didn't know me from Adam), and said: 'Oh, go back and +fetch my husband.' And I knew it was Wheeler I'd got to go and find. +</P> + +<P> +Then I went back and I looked for Wheeler. +</P> + +<P> +There he was, lying on the bed, drunk. +</P> + +<P> +Then the devil says to me, 'What call have you to go and find him, +the drunken swine? Leave him be, and you can marry Jenny, and let +bygones be bygones'; and I stood there half a minute, quite still, +with the smoke getting thick round me. Then, the next thing I knew, +there was a cracking under my feet and the boards giving way, and I +sprang across to Wheeler all in a minute, as anxious to save him as +if he'd been my own twin brother. There was no waking him, it was +lift him or leave him, and somehow or other I got him out; but that +minute I'd given to listening to Satan had very nearly chucked us +both to our death, and we only just come off by the skin of our +teeth. The crowd cheered like mad when I dragged him out. +</P> + +<P> +I was burned awfully bad, and such good looks as I'd had burnt off +me, and I didn't know nothing plainly for many a long day. +</P> + +<P> +And when I come to myself I was in a hospital, and there was a +sweet-faced charity sister sitting looking at me, and, by the Lord, +if it wasn't Amelia! And she fell on her knees beside me, and she +says, 'Tom, I must tell you. +</P> + +<P> +Ever since I found religion I've known what a wicked girl I was. O +Tom, to see you lying there, so ill! O Tom, forgive me, or I shall +go mad, I know I shall!' +</P> + +<P> +And, with that, she told me straight out, holding nothing back, that +what she'd said to me that night eight years ago was a lie, no +better; and that who I'd seen in the church porch with young Wheeler +was not Jenny at all, but Amelia herself, dressed in Jenny's things. +</P> + +<P> +'Oh, forgive me, Tom!' says Amelia, the tears runnin' over her nun's +dress. 'Forgive me, Tom, for I can never forgive myself! I knew +Jenny didn't rightly care about you, Tom, and I loved you so dear. +And Wheeler wanted Jenny, and so I was tempted to play off that +trick on you; I thought you would come round to me after.' +</P> + +<P> +I was weak still with my illness, but I put my hand on hers, and I +says, 'I do forgive you, Amelia, for, after all, you done it for +love of me. And are you a nun, my dear?' says I. +</P> + +<P> +'No,' says she, 'I'm only on liking as it were; if I don't like them +or they don't like me, I can leave any minute.' +</P> + +<P> +'Then leave, for God's sake,' says I, 'if you've got a bit of love +for me left. Let bygones be bygones, and marry me as soon as I come +out of this, for it's worth something to be loved as you've loved +me, Amelia, and I was always fond of you.' +</P> + +<P> +'What?' says she. 'Me marry you, and be happy after all the harm +I've done? You run away from your articles and turned fireman, and +Jenny married to a drunken brute—no, Tom, no! I don't deserve to be +happy; but, if you forgive me, I shan't be as miserable as I was.' +</P> + +<P> +'Well,' says I, 'if ever you think better of it let me know.' +</P> + +<P> +And the curious thing is that, within two years, she did think +better of it—for why? That fire had sobered Wheeler more than +twenty thousand temperance tracts, and all the Sons of the Phoenix +and Bands of Hope rolled into one. He never touched a drop of drink +since that day, and Jenny's as happy as her kind ever is. I hear she +didn't fret over me more than a month, though perhaps that's only +what I deserved, writing to her as I did. And then Amelia she +said—'No such harm done then after all.' So she married me. +</P> + +<P> +Now, you see, if I'd listened to Satan and hadn't pulled Wheeler +out, I shouldn't have got burned, and I shouldn't have got into the +hospital, and I shouldn't have found Amelia again, and then where +should I have been? Whereas now, we're farming the same bit of land +that my father farmed before us. And if this was a made-up story, +Amelia would have had to drowned herself or something, and I should +have gone a-weeping and a-wailing for Jenny all my born days; but as +it's true and really happened, Amelia and me have been punished +enough, I think; for eight years of unhappiness is only a few words +of print in a story-book, but when you've got to live them, every +day of them, eight years is eight years, as Amelia and I shall +remember till our dying day; and eight years unhappiness is enough +punishment for most of the wrong things a man can do, or a woman +either for that matter. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="coals"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +COALS OF FIRE +</H3> + +<P> +ALL my life I've lived on a barge. My father, he worked a barge from +London to Tonbridge, and 'twas on a barge I first see the light when +my mother's time come. I used to wish sometimes as I could 'ave +lived in a cottage with a few bits of flowers in the front, but I +think if I'd been put to it I should have chose the barge rather +than the finest cottage ever I see. When I come to be grown up and +took a husband of my own it was a bargeman I took, of course. He was +a good sort always, was my Tom, though not particular about Sundays +and churchgoings and such like, as my father always was. It used to +be a sorrow to me in my young married days to think as Tom was so +far from the Lord, and I used to pray that 'is eyes might be opened +and that 'e might be led to know the truth like me, which was vanity +on my part, for I've come to see since that like as not 'e was +nearer the Lord nor ever I was. +</P> + +<P> +We worked the William and Mary, did Tom and me, and I used to think +no one could be 'appier than we was them first two years. Tom was as +kind as kind, and never said a hard word to me except when he was in +liquor; and as to liftin' his 'and to me, no, never in his life. But +after two years we got a little baby of our own, and then I knew as +I hadn't known what 'appiness was before. She was such a pretty +little thing, with yellow hair, soft and fluffy all over her head, +the colour of a new-hatched duck, and blue eyes and dear little +hands that I used to kiss a thousand times a day. +</P> + +<P> +My mother had married beneath her, they said, for she'd been to +school and been in service in a good family, and she taught me to +read and write and cipher in the old days, when I was a little kid +along of 'er in the barge. So we named our little kid Mary to be +like our boat, and as soon as she was big enough, I taught 'er all +my mother had taught me, and when she was about eight year old my +Tom's great-uncle James, who was a tinsmith by trade, left us a bit +of money—over L 200 it were. +</P> + +<P> +'Not a penny of it shall I spend,' says my Tom when he heard of it; +'we'll send our Mary to school with that, we will; and happen she'll +be a lady's-maid and get on in the world.' +</P> + +<P> +So we put her to boarding-school in Maidstone, and it was like +tearing the heart out of my body. And she'd been away from us a +fortnight, and the barge was like hell without her, Tom said, and I +felt it too though I couldn't say it, being a Christian woman; and +one night we'd got the barge fast till morning in Stoneham Lock, and +we were a-settin' talking about her. +</P> + +<P> +'Don't you fret, old woman,' says Tom, with the tears standin' in +his eyes, 'she's better off where she is, and she'll thank us for it +some day. She's 'appier where she is,' says 'e, 'nor she would be in +this dirty old barge along of us.' +</P> + +<P> +And just as he said it, I says, ''Ark! what's that?' And we both +listened, and if it wasn't that precious child standing on the bank +callin' 'Daddy,' and she'd run all the way from Maidstone in 'er +little nightgown, and a waterproof over it. +</P> + +<P> +P'raps if we'd been sensible parents, we should 'ave smacked 'er and +put 'er back next day; but as it was we hugged 'er, and we hugged +each other till we was all out o' breath, and then she set up on 'er +daddy's knee, and 'ad a bit o' cold pork and a glass of ale for 'er +supper along of us, and there was no more talk of sendin' 'er back +to school. But we put by the bit of money to set 'er up if she +should marry or want to go into business some day. +</P> + +<P> +And she lived with us on the barge, and though I ses it there wasn't +a sweeter girl nor a better girl atwixt London and Tonbridge. +</P> + +<P> +When she was risin' seventeen, I looked for the young men to be +comin' after 'er; and come after 'er they did, and more than one and +more than two, but there was only one as she ever give so much as a +kind look to, and that was Bill Jarvis, the blacksmith's son at +Farleigh. Whenever our barge was lyin' in the river of a Sunday, he +would walk down in 'is best in the afternoon to pass the time of day +with us, and presently it got to our Mary walking out with 'im +regular. +</P> + +<P> +'Blest if it ain't going to be "William and Mary" after all,' says +my old man. +</P> + +<P> +'He was pleased, I could see, for Bill Jarvis, he'd been put to his +father's trade, and 'e might look to come into his father's business +in good time, and barrin' a bit of poaching, which is neither here +nor there, in my opinion there wasn't a word to be said against 'im. +</P> + +<P> +And so things went along, and they was all jolly except me, but I +had it tugging at my heart day and night, that the little gell as +'ad been my very own these seventeen years wouldn't be mine no +longer soon, and, God forgive me, I hated Bill Jarvis, and I +wouldn't 'ave been sorry if I'd 'eard as 'arm 'ad come to him. +</P> + +<P> +The wedding was fixed for the Saturday; we was to 'ave a nice little +spread at the Rose and Crown, and the young folks was to go 'ome and +stay at old Jarvis's at Farleigh, and I was to lose my Pretty. And +on the Friday night, my old man, 'e went up to the Rose and Crown to +see about things and to get a drink along of 'is mates, and when 'e +come back I looked to see 'im a little bit on maybe, as was only +natural, the night before the weddin' and all. But 'e come back +early, and 'e come back sober, but with a face as white as my apron. +</P> + +<P> +'Bess,' says 'e to me, 'where's the girl?' +</P> + +<P> +'She's in 'er bunk asleep,' says I, 'lookin' as pretty as a picture. +She's been out with 'er sweet'eart,' says I. 'O Tom, this is the +last night she'll lay in that little bunk as she's laid in every +night of 'er life, except that wicked fortnight we sent 'er to +school.' +</P> + +<P> +'Look 'ere,' says 'e, speaking in a whisper, 'I've 'eard summat up +at the Rose and Crown: Bank's broke, and all our money's gone. I see +it in the paper, so it must be true.' +</P> + +<P> +'You don't mean it, Tom,' says I; 'it can't be true.' +</P> + +<P> +''Tis true, though, by God,' says 'e, ''ere, don't take on so, old +girl,' for I'd begun to cry. 'More's been lost on market-days, as +they say: our little girl's well provided for, for old Jarvis, 'e's +a warm man.' +</P> + +<P> +'She won't 'ave a day's peace all 'er life,' says I, 'goin' +empty-'anded into that 'ouse. I know old Mother Jarvis—a cat: we'd +best tell the child, p'raps she won't marry 'im if she knows she's +nothing to take to 'im,' and, God forgive me, my 'eart jumped up at +the thought. +</P> + +<P> +'No, best leave it be,' says my old man, 'they're fair sweet on each +other.' +</P> + +<P> +And so the next morning we all went up to the church, me cryin' all +the way as if it was 'er buryin' we was a-goin' to and not 'er +marryin'. The parson was at the church and a lot of folks as knew +us, us 'avin' bin in those parts so long; but none of the +bridegroom's people was there, nor yet the bridegroom. +</P> + +<P> +And we waited and we waited, my Pretty as pale as a snowdrop in her +white bonnet. And when it was a hour past the time, Tom, 'e ups and +says out loud in the church, for all the parson and me said ''Ush!' +'I'm goin' back 'ome,' says 'e; 'there won't be no weddin' to-day; +'e shan't 'ave 'er now,' says my old man, 'not if 'e comes to fetch +'er in a coach and six cram full of bank-notes,' says 'e. +</P> + +<P> +And with that 'e catches 'old of Mary in one and and me in the +other, and turns to go out of church, and at the door, who should we +meet but old Mother Jarvis, 'er that I'd called a cat in my wicked +spite only the day before. The tears was runnin' down her fat +cheeks, and as soon as she saw my Pretty, she caught 'er in 'er arms +and 'ugged 'er like as if she'd been 'er own. 'God forgive 'im,' +says she, 'I never could, for all he's my own son. He's gone off for +a soldier, and 'e left a letter sayin' you wasn't to think any more +of 'im, for 'e wasn't a marryin' man.' +</P> + +<P> +'It's that dam money,' says my goodman, forgettin' 'e was in church; +'that was all 'e wanted, but it ain't what he'll get,' says 'e. 'You +keep 'im out of my way, for it 'ull be the worse for 'im if 'e comes +within the reach of my fisties.' +</P> + +<P> +And with that we went along 'ome, the three of us. And the sun kept +a-shinin' just as if there was nothin' wrong, and the skylarks +a-singin' up in the blue sky till I would a-liked to wring their +necks for them. +</P> + +<P> +And we 'ad to go on up and down the river as usual, for it was our +livin', you see, and we couldn't get away from the place where +everybody knew the slight that had been put upon my Pretty. You'd +think p'raps that was as bad as might be, but it wasn't the worst. +</P> + +<P> +We was beginnin' June then, and by the end of August I knew that +what my Pretty 'ad gone through at the church was nothin' to what +she'd got to go through. Her face got pale and thin, and she didn't +fancy 'er food. +</P> + +<P> +I suppose I ought to 'ave bin angry with her, for we'd always kept +ourselves respectable; and I know if you spare the rod you spoil the +child, and I felt I ought to tell her I didn't 'old with such +wickedness; so one night when 'er father, 'e was up at the Rose and +Crown, and she, a-settin' on the bank with 'er elbows on 'er knees +and 'er chin in 'er 'ands, I says to 'er, 'You can't 'ide it no +longer, my girl: I know all about it, you wicked, bad girl, you.' +</P> + +<P> +And then she turned and looked at me like a dog does when you 'it +it. 'O mother,' says she, 'O mother!' And with that I forgot +everything about bein' angry with 'er, and I 'ad 'er in my arms in a +minute, and we was 'oldin' each other as hard as hard. +</P> + +<P> +'It was the night before the weddin',' says she, in a whisper. 'O +mother, I didn't think there was any harm in it, and us so nearly +man and wife.' +</P> + +<P> +'My Pretty,' says I, for she was cryin' pitiful, 'don't 'e take on +so, don't: there'll be the little baby by-and-by, and us 'ull love +it as dear as if you'd been married in church twenty times over.' +</P> + +<P> +'Ah, but father,' says she; 'he'll kill me when 'e knows.' +</P> + +<P> +Well, I put 'er to bed and I made 'er a cup of strong tea, and I +kissed 'er and covered 'er up with my heart like lead, and nobody as +ain't a mother can know what a merry-go-round of misery I'd got in +my head that night. And when my old man come 'ome I told 'im, and +'Don't be 'ard on the girl, for God's sake,' says I, 'for she's our +own child and our only child, and it was the night before the +weddin' as should 'ave bin.' +</P> + +<P> +''Ard on 'er?' says 'e, and I'd never 'eard 'is voice so soft, not +even when 'e was courtin' me, or when my Pretty was a little un, and +'e hushin' her to sleep. ''Ard on 'er? 'Ard on my precious lamb? It +ain't us men who is 'ard on them things, it's you wimmen-folk; the +day before 'er weddin', too!' +</P> + +<P> +Then 'e was quiet for a bit—then 'e takes 'is shoes off so as not +to make a clatter on the steps near where she slept, and 'e comes +out in a minute with my Bible in 'is 'and. +</P> + +<P> +'Now,' says 'e, very quiet, 'you needn't be afraid of my bein' 'ard +on 'er, but if ever I meet 'im, I'll 'ave 'is blood, if I swing for +it, and I'm goin' to swear it on this 'ere Bible—so help me God!' +</P> + +<P> +He looked like a mad thing; his eyes was a-shinin' like lanterns, +and 'is face all pulled out of its proper shape; and 'e plumps down +on 'is knees there, on the deck, with the Bible in 'is 'ands. And +before I knew what I was doin', I'd caught the book out of 'is +'ands, and chucked it into the river, my own Bible, that my own +mother had given me when I was a little kid, and I threw my arms +round his neck, and held his head against my bosom, so that his +mouth was shut, and 'e couldn't speak. +</P> + +<P> +'No, no, no, Tom,' says I, 'you mustn't swear it, and you shan't. +Think of the girl, think of your poor old woman, think of the poor +little kid that's comin', what ud us all do without you? And you +hanged for the sake of such trash as that! Why, 'e ain't worth it,' +says I, tryin' to laugh. +</P> + +<P> +Then 'e got 'is 'ead out of my arms and stood lookin' about 'im, +like a man that's 'ad a bad dream and 'as just waked up. Then 'e +smacks me on the back, 'All right, old woman,' says 'e, 'we won't +swear nothin', but it'll be a bad day for him when 'e comes a-nigh +the William and Mary.' +</P> + +<P> +So no more was said. And we got through the winter somehow, and the +baby was born, as fine a gell as ever you see; and what I said come +true, for we couldn't none of us 'ave loved the baby more if its +father and mother 'ad been married by an archbishop in Westminster +Abbey. And the folks we knew along the banks would have been kind to +my Pretty, but she wouldn't never show her face to any of them. +'I've got you, mother, and I've got father and the baby, and I don't +want no one else,' says she. +</P> + +<P> +My Tom, he wasn't never the same man after that night 'e 'd got out +the Bible to swear. He give up the drink, but it didn't make 'im no +cheerfuller, and 'e went to church now and then, a thing I'd never +known 'im do since we was married. And time went on, and it was +August again, with a big yellow moon in the sky. +</P> + +<P> +My Pretty and the baby was in bed, and the old man and me, we was +just a-turnin' in, when we 'eard some one a-runnin' along the +tow-path. My old man puts 'is 'ead out to see who's there, and as 'e +looked a man come runnin' along close by where we was moored, and 'e +jumped on to our barge, not stoppin' to look at the name, and, 'For +God's sake, hide me!' says 'e, and it was a soldier in a red coat +with a scared face, as I see by the light of the moon. And it was +Bill Jarvis what 'ad brought our girl to shame and run away and left +'er on 'er weddin' morn; and I looked to see my old man take 'im by +the shoulder and chuck 'im into the water. And Jarvis didn't see +whose barge he'd come aboard of. +</P> + +<P> +'I've got in a row,' says 'e; 'I knocked a man down and he's dead. +Oh, for God's sake, hide me! I've run all the way from Chatham.' +</P> + +<P> +Then my old man, he steps out on the deck, and Jarvis, 'e see who it +was, and—'O my God!' says 'e, and 'e almost fell back in the water +in 'is fright. +</P> + +<P> +Then my old man, 'e took that soldier by the arm, and 'e open the +door of the little cabin where my Pretty and 'er baby were. Then 'e +slammed it to again. 'No, I can't,' says 'e, 'by God, I can't.' And +before the soldier could speak, he'd dragged him down our cabin +stairs, and shoved 'im into 'is own bunk and chucked the covers over +'im. Then 'e come up to where I was standin' in the moonlight. +</P> + +<P> +'What ever you done that for?' says I. 'Why not 'a give 'im up to +serve 'im out for what 'e done to our Pretty?' +</P> + +<P> +He looked at me stupid-like. 'I don't know why,' says 'e, 'but I +can't'; and we stood there in the quiet night, me a-holding on to +'is arm, for I was shivering, so I could hardly stand. +</P> + +<P> +And presently half a dozen soldiers come by with a sergeant. +</P> + +<P> +'Hullo!' cries the sergeant, 'see any redcoat go this way?' +</P> + +<P> +'He's gone up over the bridge,' says Tom, not turnin' a 'air, 'im +that I'd never 'eard tell a lie in his life before,—'You'll catch +'im if you look slippy; what's 'e done?' +</P> + +<P> +'Only murder and desertion,' says the sergeant, as cheerful as you +please. +</P> + +<P> +'Oh, is that all?' says my old man; 'good-night to you.' +</P> + +<P> +'Good-night,' says the sergeant, and off they went. +</P> + +<P> +They didn't come back our way. We was a-goin' down stream, and we +passed Chatham next mornin'. +</P> + +<P> +Bill Jarvis, 'e lay close in the bunk, and my Pretty, she wouldn't +come out of 'er cabin; and at Chatham, my old man, 'e says, 'I'm +goin' ashore for a bit, old woman; you lay-to and wait for me.' And +he went. +</P> + +<P> +Then I went in to my Pretty and I told her all about it, for she +knew nothin' but that Jarvis was aboard; and when I'd told 'er, she +said, 'I couldn't 'a' done it, no, not for a kingdom.' +</P> + +<P> +'No more couldn't I,' ses I. 'Father's a better chap nor you and me, +my Pretty.' +</P> + +<P> +Presently my old man come back from the town, and he goes down to +the bunk where Bill Jarvis is lying, and 'e says, 'Look 'ere, Bill,' +says 'e, 'you didn't kill your man last night, and after all, it was +in a fair rough-and-tumble. The man's doing well. You take my tip +and go back and give yourself up; they won't be 'ard on you.' +</P> + +<P> +And Bill 'e looked at 'im all of a tremble. 'By God,' says 'e, +'you're a good man!' +</P> + +<P> +'It's more than you are, then, you devil,' says Tom. 'Get along, out +of my sight,' says 'e, 'before I think better of it.' +</P> + +<P> +And that soldier was off that barge before you could say 'knife,' +and we didn't see no more of 'im. +</P> + +<P> +But we was up at Hamsted Lock the next summer. The baby was +beginnin' to toddle about now; we'd called her Bessie for me. She +and her mother was a-settin' in the meadow pickin' the daisies, when +I see a soldier a-comin' along the meadow-path, and if it wasn't +that Bill Jarvis again. He stopped short when he saw my Pretty. +</P> + +<P> +'Well, Mary?' says 'e. +</P> + +<P> +'Well, Bill?' says she. +</P> + +<P> +'Is that my kid?' says 'e. +</P> + +<P> +'Whose else's would it be?' says she, flashing up at him; 'ain't it +enough to deceive a girl, and desert her, without throwing mud in +her face on the top of it all? Whose else's should the child be but +yours?' +</P> + +<P> +'Go easy,' says Bill, 'I didn't mean that, my girl. Look 'ere, says +'e, 'I got out of that scrape, thanks to your father, and I want to +let bygones be bygones, and I'll marry you to-morrow, if you like, +and be a father to the kid.' +</P> + +<P> +Then Mary, she stood up on her feet, with the little one in 'er +arms. +</P> + +<P> +'Marry you!' says she, 'I wouldn't marry you if you was the only man +in the world. Me marry a man as could serve a girl as you served me? +Not if it was to save me from hanging? Me give the kid a father like +you? Thank God, the child's my own, and you can't touch it. I tell +you,' says she, 'shame and all, I'd rather have things as they are, +than have married you in church and 'ave found out afterwards what a +cowardly beast you are.' +</P> + +<P> +And with that she walks past 'im, looking like a queen, and down +into her cabin; and 'e was left a-standin' there sucking the end of +his stick and looking like a fool. +</P> + +<P> +'I think, perhaps,' says I afterwards, 'you ought to 'ave let 'im +make an honest woman of you.' +</P> + +<P> +'I'm as honest as I want to be,' says she, 'and the child is all my +own now.' So no more was said. +</P> + +<P> +And things went on the same old sleepy way, like they always do on +the river, and we forgot the shame almost, in the pleasure of having +the little thing about us. And so the time went on, till one day at +Maidstone a Sister of Charity with one of those white caps and a big +cross round her neck, come down to the water's side inquiring for +Tom Allbutt. +</P> + +<P> +'That's me,' says my old man. +</P> + +<P> +'There's a young man ill in hospital,' says she. 'He's dying, I'm +afraid, and he wants to see you before he goes. It's typhoid fever, +but that's over now; he's dying of weakness, they say.' +</P> + +<P> +And when we asked the young man's name, of course it was Bill +Jarvis. So we left my Pretty in charge of the barge, and my old man +and me, we went up to the hospital. +</P> + +<P> +Bill was so changed you wouldn't 'ardly 'ave known 'im. From being a +fleshy, red-cheeked young fellow, he'd come to be as thin as a +skeleton, and 'is eyes seemed to fill half 'is face. +</P> + +<P> +'I want to marry Mary,' says 'e. 'I'm dying, I can't do her and the +kid no 'arm now, and I should die easier if she'd marry me here; the +chaplain would do it—he said so.' +</P> + +<P> +My old man didn't say nothin', but says I, 'I would dearly like her +to be made an honest woman of.' +</P> + +<P> +'It's me that wants to be made an honest man of,' says Bill. And +with that my old man, he took his hand and shook it. Then says Bill +with the tears runnin' down his cheeks,—partly from weakness, I +suppose, for 'e wasn't the crying sort—'So help me God, I never +knew what a beast I was till that day I come to you in your barge +and you showed me what a man was, Tom Allbutt; you did, so, and I've +been trying to be a man ever since, and I've given up the drink, and +I've lived steady, and I've never so much as looked at another girl +since that night. Oh, get her to be my wife,' says 'e, 'and let me +die easy.' +</P> + +<P> +And I went and fetched 'er, and she came along with me with the +child in her arms; and the chaplain married them then and there. I +don't know how it was the banns didn't have to be put up, but it was +managed somehow. +</P> + +<P> +'And you'll stay with me till I die,' says 'e, 'won't you, Mary, you +and the kid?' +</P> + +<P> +But he didn't die, he got better, and there isn't a couple happier +than him and Mary, for all they've gone through. +</P> + +<P> +And the doctor says it was Mary saved his life, for it was after he +had had a little talk with her that he took a turn for the better. +</P> + +<P> +'Mary,' says 'e, 'I've been a bad lot, and you was in the right when +you called me a coward and a beast; but your father showed me what a +man was, and I've tried to be a man. You was fond of me once, Mary; +you'll love me a little when I'm gone, and don't let the kid think +unkind of her daddy.' +</P> + +<P> +'Love you when you're gone?' says she, cryin' all over 'er face, and +kissin' 'im as if it was for a wager; 'you ain't a-goin' to die, +you're goin' to live along of me and baby. Love you when you're +gone?' says she, 'why, I've loved you all the time!' she says. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR><BR> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of In Homespun, by Edith Nesbit + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IN HOMESPUN *** + +***** This file should be named 4378-h.htm or 4378-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/4/3/7/4378/ + +Produced by Charles Aldarondo. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: In Homespun + +Author: Edith Nesbit + +Posting Date: July 26, 2009 [EBook #4378] +Release Date: August, 2003 +First Posted: January 20, 2002 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IN HOMESPUN *** + + + + +Produced by Charles Aldarondo. HTML version by Al Haines. + + + + + + + + + +IN HOMESPUN + +BY E. NESBIT + + +LONDON 1896 + + + + + +THESE tales are written in an English dialect--none the less a +dialect for that it lacks uniformity in the misplacement of +aspirates, and lacks, too, strange words misunderstanded of the +reader. + +In South Kent villages with names ending in 'den,' and out away on +the Sussex downs where villages end in 'hurst,' live the plain +people who talk this plain speech--a speech that should be sweeter +in English ears than the implacable consonants of a northern +kail-yard, or the soft one-vowelled talk of western hillsides. + +All through the summer nights the market carts creak along the +London road; to London go the wild young man and the steady young +man who 'betters' himself. To London goes the girl seeking a +'place.' The 'beano' comes very near to this land--so near that +across its marches you may hear the sackbut and shawm from the +breaks. Once a year come the hoppers. And so the cup of the hills +holds no untroubled pool of pastoral speech. This book therefore +is of no value to a Middle English scholar, and needs no glossary. + +E. NESBIT. + +KENT, _March_ 1896. + + + + +CONTENTS + + + THE BRISTOL BOWL + BARRING THE WAY + GRANDSIRE TRIPLES + A DEATH-BED CONFESSION + HER MARRIAGE LINES + ACTING FOR THE BEST + GUILTY + SON AND HEIR + ONE WAY OF LOVE + COALS OF FIRE + + + + +THE BRISTOL BOWL + + +MY cousin Sarah and me had only one aunt between us, and that was my +Aunt Maria, who lived in the little cottage up by the church. + +Now my aunt had a tidy little bit of money laid by, which she +couldn't in reason expect to carry with her when her time came to +go, wherever it was she might go to, and a houseful of furniture, +old-fashioned, but strong and good still. So of course Sarah and I +were not behindhand in going up to see the old lady, and taking her +a pot or so of jam in fruiting season, or a turnover, maybe, on a +baking-day, if the oven had been steady and the baking turned out +well. And you couldn't have told from aunt's manner which of us she +liked best; and there were some folks who thought she might leave +half to me and half to Sarah, for she hadn't chick nor child of her +own. + +But aunt was of a having nature, and what she had once got together +she couldn't bear to see scattered. Even if it was only what she had +got in her rag-bag, she would give it to one person to make a big +quilt of, rather than give it to two persons to make two little +quilts. + +So Sarah and me, we knew that the money might come to either or +neither of us, but go to both it wouldn't. + +Now, some people don't believe in special mercies, but I have always +thought there must have been something out of the common way for +things to happen as they did the day Aunt Maria sprained her ankle. +She sent over to the farm where we were living with my mother (who +was a sensible woman, and carried on the farm much better than most +men would have done, though that's neither here nor there) to ask if +Sarah or me could be spared to go and look after her a bit, for the +doctor said she couldn't put her foot to the ground for a week or +more. + +Now, the minister I sit under always warns us against superstition, +which, I take it, means believing more than you have any occasion +to. And I'm not more given to it than most folks, but still I always +have said, and I always shall say, that there's a special Providence +above us, and it wasn't for nothing that Sarah was laid up with a +quinsy that very morning. So I put a few things together--in Sarah's +hat-tin, I remember, which was handier to carry than my own--and I +went up to the cottage. + +Aunt was in bed, and whether it was the sprained ankle or the hot +weather I don't know, but the old lady was cantankerous past all +believing. + +'Good-morning, aunt,' I said, when I went in, 'and however did this +happen?' + +'Oh, you've come, have you?' she said, without answering my +question, 'and brought enough luggage to last you a year, I'll be +bound. When I was young, a girl could go to spend a week without +nonsense of boxes or the like. A clean shift and a change of +stockings done up in a cotton handkerchief--that was good enough for +us. But now, you girls must all be young ladies. I've no patience +with you.' + +I didn't answer back, for answering back is a poor sort of business +when the other person is able to make you pay for every idle word. +Of course, it's different if you haven't anything to lose by it. So +I just said-- + +'Never mind, aunt dear. I really haven't brought much; and what +would you like me to do first?' + +'I should think you'd see for yourself,' says she, thumping her +pillows, 'that there's not a stick in the house been dusted yet--no, +nor a stair swep'.' + +So I set to to clean the house, which was cleaner than most people's +already, and I got a nice bit of dinner and took it up on a tray. +But no, that wasn't right, for I'd put the best instead of the +second-best cloth on the tray. + +'The workhouse is where you'll end,' says aunt. + +But she ate up all the dinner, and after that she seemed to get a +little easier in her temper, and by-and-by fell off to sleep. + +I finished the stairs and tidied up the kitchen, and then I went to +dust the parlour. + +Now, my aunt's parlour was a perfect moral. I have never seen its +like before or since. The mantelpiece and the corner cupboard, and +the shelves behind the door, and the top of the chest of drawers and +the bureau were all covered up with a perfect litter and lurry of +old china. Not sets of anything, but different basins and jugs and +cups and plates and china spoons and the bust of John Wesley and +Elijah feeding the ravens in a red gown and standing on a green +crockery grass plot. + +There was every kind of china uselessness that you could think of; +and Sarah and I used to think it hard that a girl had no chance of +getting on in life without she dusted all this rubbish once a week +at the least. + +'Well, the sooner begun the sooner ended,' says I to myself So I +took the silk handkerchief that aunt kep' a purpose--an old one it +was that had belonged to uncle, and hemmed with aunt's own hair and +marked with his name in the corner. (Folks must have had a deal of +time in those days, I often think.) And I began to dust the things, +beginning with the big bowl on the chest of drawers, for aunt always +would have everything done just one way and no other. + +You think, perhaps, that I might as well have sat down in the +arm-chair and had a quiet nap and told aunt afterwards that I had +dusted everything; but you must know she was quite equivalent to +asking any of the neighbours who might drop in whether that dratted +china of hers was dusted properly. + +It was a hot afternoon, and I was tired and a bit cross. + +'Aunts, and uncles, and grandmothers,' thinks I to myself. 'O what a +stupid old lot they must have been to have set such store by all +this gimcrackery! Oh, if only a bull or something could get in here +for five minutes and smash every precious--oh, my cats alive!' + +I don't know how I did it, but just as I was saying that about the +bull, the big bowl slipped from my hands and broke in three pieces +on the floor at my feet, and at the same moment I heard aunt thump, +thump, thumping with the heel of her boot on the floor for me to go +up and tell her what I had broken. I tell you I wished from my heart +at that moment that it was me that had had the quinsy instead of +Sarah. + +I was so knocked all of a heap that I couldn't move, and the boot +went on thump, thump, thumping overhead. I had to go, but I was +flustered to that degree that as I went up the stairs I couldn't for +the life of me think what I should say. + +Aunt was sitting up in bed, and she shook her fist at me when I went +in. + +'Out with it!' she said. 'Speak the truth. Which of them is it? The +yallar china dish, or the big teapot, or the Wedgwood tobaccojar +that belonged to your grandfather?' + +And then all in a minute I knew what to say. The words seemed to be +put into my mouth, like they were into the prophets of old. + +'Lord, aunt!' I said, 'you give me quite a turn, battering on the +floor that way. What do you want? What is it?' + +'What have you broken, you wicked, heartless girl? Out with it, +quick!' + +'Broken?' I says. 'Well, I hope you won't mind much, aunt, but I +have had a misfortune with the little cracked pie-dish that the +potatopie was baked in; but I can easy get you another down at +Wilkins.' + +Aunt fell back on her pillows with a sort of groan. + +'Thank them as be!' she said, and then she sat up again, bolt +upright all in a minute. + +'You fetch me the pieces,' she says, short and sharp. + +I hope it isn't boastful to say that I don't think many girls would +have had the sense to bring up that dish in their apron and to break +it on their knee as they came up the stairs, and take it in and show +it to her. + +'Don't say another word about it,' says my aunt, as kind and hearty +as you please. + +Things not being as bad as she expected, it made her quite willing +to put up with things being a bit worse than they had been five +minutes before. I've often noticed it is this way with people. + +'You're a good girl, Jane,' she says, 'a very good girl, and I +shan't forget it, my dear. Go on down, now, and make haste with your +washing up, and get to work dusting the china.' + +And it was such a weight off my mind to feel that she didn't know, +that I felt as if everything was all right until I got downstairs +and see those three pieces of that red and yellow and green and blue +basin lying on the carpet as I had left them. My heart beat fit to +knock me down, but I kept my wits about me, and I stuck it together +with white of egg, and put it back in its place on the wool mat with +the little teapot on top of it so that no one could have noticed +that there was anything wrong with it unless they took the thing up +in their hands. + +The next three days I waited on aunt hand and foot, and did +everything she asked, and she was as pleased as pleased, till I felt +that Sarah hadn't a chance. + +On the third day I told aunt that mother would want me, it being +Saturday, and she was quite willing for the Widow Gladish to come in +and do for her while I was away. I chose a Saturday because that and +Sunday were the only days the china wasn't dusted. + +I went home as quick as I could, and I told mother all about it. + +'And don't you, for any sake, tell Sarah a word about it, or quinsy +or no quinsy, she'll be up at aunt's before we know where we are, to +let the cat out of the bag.' + +I took all the money out of my money-box that I had saved up for +starting housekeeping with in case aunt should leave her money to + +Sarah, and I put it in my pocket, and I took the first train to +London. + +I asked the porter at the station to tell me the way to the best +china-shop in London; and he told me there was one in Queen Victoria +Street. So I went there. + +It was a beautiful place, with velvet sofas for people to sit down +on while they looked at the china and glass and chose which pattern +they would have; and there were thousands of basins far more +beautiful than aunt's, but not one like hers, and when I had looked +over some fifty of them, the gentleman who was showing them to me +said-- + +'Perhaps you could give me some idea of what it is you do want?' + +Now, I had brought one of the pieces of the bowl up with me, the +piece at the back where it didn't show, and I pulled it out and +showed it to him. + +'I want one like this,' I said. + +'Oh!' said he, 'why didn't you say so at first? We don't keep that +sort of thing here, and it's a chance if you get it at all. You +might in Wardour Street, or at Mr. Aked's in Green Street, Leicester +Square.' + +Well, time was getting on and I did a thing I had never done before, +though I had often read of it in the novelettes. I waved my umbrella +and I got into a hansom cab. + +'Young man,' I said, 'will you please drive to Mr. Aked's in Green +Street, Leicester Square? and drive careful, young man, for I have a +piece of china in my hands that's worth a fortune to me.' + +So he grinned and I got in and the cab started. A hansom cab is +better than any carriage you ever rode in, with soft cushions to +lean against and little looking-glasses to look at yourself in, and, +somehow, you don't hear the wheels. I leaned back and looked at +myself and felt like a duchess, for I had my new hat and mantle on, +and I knew I looked nice by the way the young men on the tops of the +omnibuses looked at me and smiled. It was a lovely drive. When we +got to Mr. Aked's, which looked to me more like a rag-and-bone shop +than anything else, and very poor after the beautiful place in Queen +Victoria Street, I got out and went in. + +An old gentleman came towards me and asked what he could do for me, +and he looked surprised, as though he wasn't used to see such smart +girls in his pokey old shop. + +'Please, sir,' I said, 'I want a bowl like this, if you have got +such a thing among your old odds and ends.' + +He took the piece of china and looked at it through his glasses for +a minute. Then he gave it back to me very carefully. + +'There's not a piece of this ware in the market. The few specimens +extant are in private collections.' + +'Oh dear,' I said; 'and can't I get another like it?' + +'Not if you were to offer me a hundred pounds down,' said the old +man. + +I couldn't help it. I sat down on the nearest chair and began to +cry, for it seemed as if all my hopes of Aunt Maria's money were +fading away like the 'roseate hues of early dawn' in the hymn. + +'Come, come,' said he, 'what's the matter? Cheer up. I suppose +you're in service and you've broken this bowl. Isn't that it? But +never mind--your mistress can't do anything to you. Servants can't +be made to replace valuable bowls like this.' + +That dried my eyes pretty quick, I can tell you. + +'Me in service!' I said. 'And my grandfather farming his own land +before you were picked out of the gutter, I'll be bound'--God +forgive me that I should say such a thing to an old man--'and my own +aunt with a better lot of fal-lals and trumpery in her parlour than +you've got in all your shop.' + +With that he laughed, and I flounced out of the shop, my cheeks +flaming and my heart going like an eight-day clock. I was so +flustered I didn't notice that some one came out of the shop after +me, and I had walked a dozen yards down the street before I saw that +some one was alongside of me and saying something to me. + +It was another old gentleman--at least, not so old as Mr. Aked,--and +I remembered now having seen him at the back of the shop. He was +taking off his hat, as polite as you please. + +'You're quite overcome,' he said, 'and no wonder. Come and have a +little dinner with me quietly somewhere, and tell me all about it.' + +'I don't want any dinner,' I said; 'I want to go and drown myself, +for it's all over, and I've nothing more to look for. My brother +Harry will have the farm, and I shan't get a penny of aunt's money. +Why couldn't they have made plenty of the ugly old basins while they +were about it?' + +'Come and have some dinner,' the old gentleman said again, 'and +perhaps I can help you. I have a basin just like that.' + +So I did. We went to some place where there were a lot of little +tables and waiters in black clothes; and we had a nice dinner, and I +did feel better for it, and when we had come to the cheese, I told +him exactly what had happened; and he leaned his head on his hands, +and he thought, and thought, and presently he said-- + +'Do you think your aunt would sell any of her china?' + +'That I'm downright sure she wouldn't,' I said; 'so it's no good +your asking.' + +'Well, you see, your aunt won't be down for three or four days yet. +You give me your address, and I'll write and tell you if I think of +anything.' + +And with that he paid the bill and had a cab called, and put me in +it and paid the driver, and I went along home. + +I didn't sleep much that night, and next day I was thinking all +sermon-time of whatever I could do, for it wasn't in nature that my +aunt would not find me out before another two days was over my head; +and she had never been so nice and kind, and had even gone so far as +to say-- + +'Whoever my money's left to, Jane, will be bound not to part with my +china, nor my old chairs and presses. Don't you forget, my child. +It's all written in black and white, and if the person my money's +left to sells these old things, my money goes along too.' + +There was no letter on Monday morning, and I was up to my elbows in +the suds, doing aunt's bit of washing for her, when I heard a step +on the brick path, and there was that old gentleman coming round by +the water-butt to the back-door. + +'Well?' says he. 'Anything fresh happened? + +'For any sake,' says I in a whisper, 'get out of this. She'll hear +if I say more than two words to you. If you've thought of anything +that's to be of any use, get along to the church porch, and I'll be +with you as soon as I can get these things through the rinse-water +and out on the line.' + +'But,' he says in a whisper, 'just let me into the parlour for five +minutes, to have a look round and see what the rest of the bowl is +like.' + +Then I thought of all the stories I had heard of pedlars' packs, and +a married lady taken unexpectedly, and tricks like that to get into +the house when no one was about. So I thought-- + +'Well, if you are to go in, I must go in with you,' and I squeezed +my hands out of the suds, and rolled them into my apron and went in, +and him after me. + +You never see a man go on as he did. It's my belief he was hours in +that room, going round and round like a squirrel in a cage, picking +up first one bit of trumpery and then another, with two fingers and +a thumb, as carefully as if it had been a _tulle_ bonnet just home +from the draper's, and setting everything down on the very exact +spot he took them up from. + +More than once I thought that I had entertained a loony unawares, +when I saw him turn up the cups and plates and look twice as long at +the bottoms of them as he had at the pretty parts that were meant to +show, and all the time he kept saying--'Unique, by Gad, perfectly +unique!' or 'Bristol, as I'm a sinner,' and when he came to the +large blue dish that stands at the back of the bureau, I thought he +would have gone down on his knees to it and worshipped it. + +'Square-marked Worcester!' he said to himself in a whisper, speaking +very slowly, as if the words were pleasant in his mouth, +'Square-marked Worcester--an eighteen-inch dish!' + +I had as much trouble getting him out of that parlour as you would +have getting a cow out of a clover-patch, and every minute I was +afraid aunt would hear him, or hear the china rattle or something; +but he never rattled a bit, bless you, but was as quiet as a mouse, +and as for carefulness he was like a woman with her first baby. I +didn't dare ask him anything for fear he should answer too loud, and +by-and-by he went up to the church porch and waited for me. + +He had a brown-paper parcel with him, a big one, and I thought to +myself, 'Suppose he's brought his bowl and is wishful to sell it.' I +got those things through the blue-water pretty quick, I can tell +you. I often wish I could get a maid who would work as fast as I +used to when I was a girl. Then I ran up and asked aunt if she could +spare me to run down to the shop for some sago, and I put on my +sunbonnet and ran up, just as I was, to the church porch. The old +gentleman was skipping with impatience. I've heard of people +skipping with impatience, but I never saw any one do it before. + +'Now, look here,' he said, 'I want you--I must--oh, I don't know +which way to begin, I have so many things to say. I want to see your +aunt, and ask her to let me buy her china.' + +'You may save your trouble,' I said, 'for she'll never do it. She's +left her china to me in her will,' I said. + +Not that I was quite sure of it, but still I was sure enough to say +so. The old gentleman put down his brown-paper parcel on the porch +seat as careful as if it had been a sick child, and said-- + +'But your aunt won't leave you anything if she knows you have broken +the bowl, will she?' + +'No,' I said, 'she won't, that's true, and you can tell her if you +like.' For I knew very well he wouldn't. + +'Well,' says he, speaking very slowly, 'if I lent you my bowl, you +could pretend it's hers and she'll never know the difference, for +they are as like as two peas. I can tell the difference, of course, +but then I'm a collector. If I lend you the bowl, will you promise +and vow in writing, and sign it with your name, to sell all that +china to me directly it comes into your possession? Good gracious, +girl, it will be hundreds of pounds in your pocket.' + +That was a sad moment for me. I might have taken the bowl and +promised and vowed, and then when the china came to me I might have +told him I hadn't the power to sell it; but that wouldn't have +looked well if any one had come to know of it. So I just said +straight out-- + +'The only condition of my having my aunt's money is, that I never +part with the china.' + +He was silent a minute, looking out of the porch at the green trees +waving about in the sunshine over the gravestones, and then he +says-- + +'Look here, you seem an honourable girl. I am a collector. I buy +china and keep it in cases and look at it, and it's more to me than +meat, or drink, or wife, or child, or fire--do you understand? And I +can no more bear to think of that china being lost to the world in a +cottage instead of being in my collection than you can bear to think +of your aunt's finding out about the bowl, and leaving the money to +your cousin Sarah.' + +Of course, I knew by that that he had been gossiping in the village. + +'Well?' I said, for I saw that he had something more on his mind. + +'I'm an old man,' he went on, 'but that need not stand in the way. +Rather the contrary, for I shall be less trouble to you than a young +husband. Will you marry me out of hand? And then when your aunt dies +the china will be mine, and you will be well provided for.' + +No one but a madman would have made such an offer, but that wasn't a +reason for me to refuse it. I pretended to think a bit, but my mind +was made up. + +'And the bowl?' I said. + +'Of course I'll lend you my bowl, and you shall give me the pieces +of the old one. Lord Worsley's specimen has twenty-five rivets in +it.' + +'Well, sir,' I said, 'it seems to be a way out of it that might suit +both of us. So, if you'll speak to mother, and if your circumstances +is as you represent, I'll accept your offer, and I'll be your good +lady.' + +And then I went back to aunt and told her Wilkinses was out of sago, +but they would have some in on Wednesday. + +It was all right about the bowl. She never noticed the difference. I +was married to the old gentleman, whose name was Fytche, the next +week by special licence at St. Nicholas Cole Abbey, Queen Victoria +Street, which is very near that beautiful glass and china shop where +I had tried to match the bowl; and my aunt died three months later +and left me everything. Sarah married in quite a poor way. That +quinsy of hers cost her dear. + +Mr. Fytche was very well off, and I should have liked living at his +house well enough if it hadn't been for the china. The house was +cram full of it, and he could think of nothing else. No more going +out to dinner; no amusements; nothing as a girl like me had a right +to look for. So one day I told him straight out I thought he had +better give up collecting and sell aunt's things, and we would buy a +nice little place in the country with the money. + +'But, my dear,' he said, 'you can't sell your aunt's china. She left +it stated expressly in her will.' + +And he rubbed his hands and chuckled, for he thought he had got me +there. + +'No, but you can,' I said, 'the china is yours now. I know enough +about law to know that; and you can sell it, and you shall.' + +And so he did, whether it was law or not, for you can make a man do +anything if you only give your mind to it and take your time and +keep all on. It was called the great Fytche sale, and I made him pay +the money he got for it into the bank; and when he died I bought a +snug little farm with it, and married a young man that I had had in +my eye long before I had heard of Mr. Fytche. + +And we are very comfortably off, and not a bit of china in the house +that's more than twenty years old, so that whatever's broke can be +easy replaced. + +As for his collection, which would have brought me in thousands of +pounds, they say, I have to own he had the better of me there, for +he left it by will to the South Kensington Museum. + + + + +BARRING THE WAY + + +I DON'T know how she could have done it. I couldn't have done it +myself. At least, I don't think so. But being lame and small, and +not noticeable anyhow, I had never any temptation, so I can't judge +those that have. + +Ellen was tall and a slight figure, and as pretty as a picture in +her Sunday clothes, and prettier than any picture on a working day, +with her sleeves rolled up to her shoulder and the colour in her +face like a rose, and her brown, hair all twisted up rough anyhow; +and, of course, she was much sought after and flattered. But I +couldn't have done it myself, I think, even if I had been sought +after twice as much and twice as handsome. No, I couldn't, not after +the doctor had said that father's heart was weak, and any sudden +shock might bring an end to him. + +But, oh! poor dear, she was my sister--my own only sister--and it's +not the time now to be hard on her, and she where she is. + +She was walking regular with a steady young man, who worked through +the week at Hastings, and come home here on a Sunday, and she would +have married him and been as happy as a queen, I know; and all her +looking in the glass, and dressing herself pretty, would have come +to being proud of her babies and spending what bits she could get +together in making them look smart; but it was not to be. + +Young Barber, the grocer's son, who had a situation in London, he +come down for his summer holiday, and then it was 'No, thank you +kindly,' to poor Arthur Simmons, that had loved her faithful and +true them two years, and she was all for walking with young Mr. +Barber, besides running into the shop twenty times a day when no +occasion was, just for a word across the counter. + +And father wasn't the best pleased, but he was always a silent man, +very pious, and not saying much as he sat at his bench, for he had +been brought up to the shoemaking and was very respected among +Pevensey folks. He would hum a hymn or two at his work sometimes, +but he was never a man of words. When young Barber went back to +London, Ellen, she began to lose her pretty looks. I had never +thought much of young Barber. There was something common about +him--not like the labouring men, but a kind of town commonness, +which is twenty times worse to my thinking; and if I didn't like him +before, you may guess I didn't waste much love on him when I see +poor Ellen's looks. + +Now, if I am to tell you this story at all, I must tell it very +steady and quiet, and not run on about what I thought or what I +felt, or I shan't never have the heart to go through it. The long +and short of it was that a month hadn't passed over our heads after +young Barber leaving, when one morning our Ellen wasn't there. And +she left a note, nailed to father's bench, to say she had gone off +with her true love, and father wasn't to mind, for she was going to +be married. + +Father, he didn't say a word, but he turned a dreadful white, and +blue his lips were, and for one dreadful moment I thought that I had +lost him too. But he come round presently. I ran across to the Three +Swans to get a drop of brandy for him; and I looked at her letter +again, and I looked at him, and we both see that neither of us +believed that she was going to be married. There was something about +the very way of the words as she had written them which showed they +weren't true. + +Father, he said nothing, only when next Sunday had come, and I had +laid out his Sunday things and his hat, all brushed as usual, he +says-- + +'Put 'em away, my girl. I don't believe in Sunday. How can I believe +in all that, and my Ellen gone to shame?' + +And, after that, Sundays was the same to him as weekdays, and the +folks looked shy at us, and I think they thought that, what with +Ellen's running away and father's working on Sundays, we was on the +high-road to the pit of destruction. + +And so the time went on, and it was Christmas. The bells was ringing +for Christmas Eve, and I says to father: 'O father! come to church. +Happen it's all true, and Ellen's an honest woman, after all.' + +And he lifted his head and looked at me, and at that moment there +come a soft little knock at the door. I knew who it was afore I had +time to stir a foot to go across the kitchen and open the door to +her. She blinked her eyes at the light as I opened the door to her. +Oh, pale and thin her face was that used to be so rosy-red, and-- + +'May I come in?' she said, as if it wasn't her own home. And father, +he looked at her like a man that sees nothing, and I was frightened +what he might do, like the fool I was, that ought to have known +better. + +'I'm very tired,' says Ellen, leaning against the door-post; 'I have +come from a very long way.' + +And the next minute father makes two long steps to the door, and his +arms is round her, and she a-hanging on his neck, and they two +holding each other as if they would never let go. And so she come +home, and I shut the door. + +And in all that time father and me, we couldn't make too much of +her, me being that thankful to the Lord that He had let our dear +come back to us; and never a word did she say to me of him that had +been her ruin. But one night when I asked her, silly-like, and +hardly thinking what I was doing, some question about him, father +down with his fist on the table, and says he-- + +'When you name that name, my girl, you light hell in me, and if ever +I see his damned face again, God help him and me too.' + +And so I held my stupid tongue, and sat sewing with Ellen long days, +and it was a happy, sad time, if a time can be sad and happy both. + +And it was about primrose-time that her time come, and we had kept +it quiet, and nobody knew but us and Mrs. Jarvis, that lived in the +cottage next to ours, and was Ellen's godmother, and loved her like +her own daughter; and when the baby come, Ellen says, 'Is it a boy +or a girl?' And we told her it was a boy. + +Then, says she, 'Thank God for that! My baby won't live to know such +shame as mine.' + +And there wasn't one of us dared tell her that God meant no shame or +pain or grief at all should come to her little baby, because it was +dead. But by-and-by she would have it to lie by her, and we said No: +it was asleep; and for all we said she guessed the truth somehow. +And she began to cry, the tears running down her cheeks and wetting +the linen about her, and she began to moan, 'I want my baby--oh, +bring me my little baby that I have never seen yet. I want to say +"good-bye" to it, for I shall never go where it is going.' + +And father said, 'Bring her the child.' + +I had dressed the poor little thing--a pretty boy, and would have +been a fine man--in one of the gowns I had taken a pleasure in +sewing for it to wear, and the little cap with the crimped border +that had been Ellen's own when she was a baby and her mother's +pride, and I brought it and put it in her arms, and it was clay-cold +in my hands as I carried it. And she laid its head on her breast as +well as she could for her weakness; and father, who was leaning over +her, nigh mad with love and being so anxious about her, he says-- + +'Let Lucy take the poor little thing away, Ellen,' he says, 'for you +must try to get well and strong for the sake of those that love +you.' + +Then she says, turning her eyes on him, shining like stars out of +her pale face, and still holding her baby tight to her breast, 'I +know what's the best thing I can do for them as love me, and I'm +doing it fast. Kiss me, father, and kiss the baby too. Perhaps if I +hold it tight we'll go out into the dark together, and God won't +have the heart to part us.' And so she died. + +And there was no one but me that touched her after she died, for all +I am a cripple, and I laid her out, my pretty, with my own hands, +and the baby in the hollow of her arm; and I put primroses all round +them, and I took father to look at them when all was done, and we +stood there, holding hands and looking at her lying there so sweet +and peaceful, and looking so good too, whatever you may think, with +all the trouble wiped off her face as if the Lord had washed it +already in His heavenly light. + +Now, Ellen was buried in the churchyard, and Parson, who was always +a hard man, he would have her laid away to the north side, where no +sun gets to for the trees and the church, and where few folks like +to be buried. But father, he said, 'No; lay her beside her mother, +in the bit of ground I bought twenty years ago, where I mean to lie +myself, and Lucy too, when her time comes, so that if the talk of +rising again is true we shall be all together at the last, as +kinsfolk should.' + +So they laid her there, and her name was cut under mother's on the +headstone. + +Father didn't grieve and take on as some men do, but he was quieter +than he used to be, and didn't seem to have that heart in his work +that he always had even after she had left us. It seemed as if the +spring of him was broken, somehow. Not but what he was goodness +itself to me then and always. But I wasn't his favourite child, nor +could I have looked to be, me being what I am and she so sweet and +pretty, and such a way with her. + +And father went to church to the burying, but he wouldn't go to +service. 'I think maybe there's a God, and if there is, I have that +in my heart that's quite enough keeping in my own poor house, +without my daring to take it into His.' + +And so I gave up going too. I wouldn't seem to be judging father, +not though I might be judged myself by all the village. But when I +heard the church-bells ringing, ringing, it was like as if some one +that loved me was calling to me and me not answering; and sometimes +when all the folk was in church, I used to hobble up on my crutches +to the gate and stand there and sometimes hear a bit of the singing +come through the open door. + +It was the end of August that Mr. Barber at the shop fell off a +ladder leading to his wareroom, and was killed on the spot; and Mrs. +Jarvis, she says to me, 'If that young Barber comes home, as I +suppose he will, to take what's his by right in the eyes of the law, +he might as well go and put his head into an oven on a baking-day, +and get his worst friend to shove his legs in after him and shut the +door to.' + +'He won't come back,' says I. 'How could he face it, when every one +in the village knows it?' + +For when Ellen died it could not be kept secret any longer, and a +heap of folks that would have drawn their skirts aside rather than +brush against her if she had been there alive and well, with her +baby at her breast, had a tear and a kind word for her now that she +was gone where no tears and no words could get at her for good or +evil. + +I see once a bit of poetry in a book, and it said when a woman had +done what she had done, the only way to get forgiven is to die, and +I believe that's true. But it isn't true of fathers and sisters. + +It was Sunday morning, and father, he was working away at his +bench--not that it ever seemed to make him any happier to work, only +he was more miserable if he didn't,--and I had crept up to the +churchyard to lean against the wall and listen to the psalms being +sung inside, when, looking down the village street, I saw Barber's +shop open, and out came young Barber himself. Oh, if God forgets any +one in His mercy, it will be him and his like! + +He come out all smart and neat in his new black, and he was +whistling a hymn tune softly. Our house was betwixt Barber's shop +and the church, not a stone's-throw off, anyway; and I prayed to God +that Barber would turn the other way and not come by our house, +where father he was sitting at his bench with the door open. + +But he did turn, and come walking towards me; and I had laid my +crutches on the ground, and I stooped to pick them up to go home--to +stop words; for what were words, and she in her grave?--when I heard +young Barber's voice, and I looked over the wall, and see he had +stopped, in his madness and folly and the wickedness of his heart, +right opposite the house he had brought shame to, and he was +speaking to father through the door. + +I couldn't hear what he said, but he seemed to expect an answer, +and, when none came, he called out a little louder, 'Oh, well, +you've no call to hold your head so high, anyhow!' And for the way +he said it I could have killed him myself, but for having been +brought up to know that two wrongs don't make a right, and +'Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord; I will repay.' + +They was at prayers in the church, and there was no sound in the +street but the cooing of the pigeons on the roofs, and young Barber, +he stood there looking in at our door with that little sneering +smile on his face, and the next minute he was running for his life +for the church, where all the folks were, and father after him like +a madman, with his long knife in his hand that he used to cut the +leather with. It all happened in a flash. + +Barber come running up the dusty road in his black, and passed me as +I stood by the churchyard gate, and up towards the church; but +sudden in the path he stopped short, his eyes seeming starting out +of his head as he looked at Ellen's grave--not that he could see her +name, the headstone being turned the other way,--and he put his +hands before his eyes and stood still a-trembling, like a rabbit +when the dogs are on it, and it can't find no way out. Then he cried +out, 'No, no, cover her face, for God's sake!' and crouched down +against the footstone, and father, coming swift behind him, passed +me at the gate, and he ran his knife through Barber's back twice as +he crouched, and they rolled on the path together. + +Then all the folks in church that had heard the scream, they come +out like ants when you walk through an ant-heap. Young Barber was +holding on to the headstone, the blood running out through his new +broadcloth, and death written on his face in big letters. + +I ran to lift up father, who had fallen with his face on the grave, +and as I stooped over him, young Barber he turned his head towards +me, and he says in a voice I could hardly catch, such a whisper it +was, 'Was there a child? I didn't know there was a child--a little +child in her arm, and flowers all round.' + +'Your child,' says I; 'and may God forgive you!' + +And I knew that he had seen her as I see her when my hands had +dressed her for her sleep through the long night. + +I never have believed in ghosts, but there is no knowing what the +good Lord will allow. + +So vengeance overtook him, and they carried him away to die with the +blood dropping on the gravel; and he never spoke a word again. + +And when they lifted father up with the red knife still fast in his +hand, they found that he was dead, and his face was white and his +lips were blue, like as I had seen them before. And they all said +father must have been mad; and so he lies where he wished to lie, +and there's a place there where I shall lie some day, where father +lies, and mother, and my dear with her little baby in the hollow of +her arm. + + + + +GRANDSIRE TRIPLES + + +I WAS promised to William, in a manner of speaking, close upon seven +year. What I mean to say is, when he was nigh upon fourteen, and was +to go away to his uncle in Somerset to learn farming, he gave me a +kiss and half of a broken sixpence, and said-- + +'Kate, I shall never think of any girl but you, and you must never +think of any chap but me.' + +And the Lord in His goodness knows that I never did. + +Father and mother laughed a bit, and called it child's nonsense; but +they was willing enough for all that, for William was a likely chap, +and would be well-to-do when his good father died, which I am sure I +never wished nor prayed for. All the trouble come from his going to +Somerset to learn farming, for his uncle that was there was a Roman, +and he taught William a good deal more than he set out to learn, so +that presently nothing would do but William must turn Roman Catholic +himself. I didn't mind, bless you. I never could see what there was +to make such a fuss about betwixt the two lots of them. Lord love +us! we're all Christians, I should hope. But father and mother was +dreadful put out when the letter come saying William had been +'received' (like as if he was a parcel come by carrier). Father, he +says-- + +'Well, Kate, least said soonest mended. But I had rather see you +laid out on the best bed upstairs than I'd see you married to +William, a son of the Scarlet Woman.' + +In my silly innocence I couldn't think what he meant, for William's +mother was a decent body, who wore a lilac print on week-days and a +plain black gown on Sunday for all she was a well-to-do farmer's +wife, and might have gone smart as a cock pheasant. + +It was at tea-time, and I was a-crying on to my bread-and-butter, +and mother sniffing a little for company behind the tea-tray, and +father, he bangs down his fist in a way to make the cups rattle +again, and he says-- + +'You've got to give him up, my girl. You write and tell him so, and +I'll take the letter as I go down to the church to-night to +practice. I've been a good father to you, and you must be a good +girl to me; and if you was to marry him, him being what he is, I'd +never speak to you again in this world or the next.' + +'You wouldn't have any chance in the next, I'm afraid, James,' said +my mother gently, 'for her poor soul, it couldn't hope to go to the +blessed place after that.' + +'I should hope not,' said my father, and with that he got up and +went out, half his tea not drunk left in the mug. + +Well, I wrote that letter, and I told William right enough that him +and me could never be anything but friends, and that he must think +of me as a sister, and that was what father told me to say. But I +hope it wasn't very wrong of me to put in a little bit of my own, +and this is what I said after I had told him about the friend and +sister-- + +'But, dear William,' says I, 'I shall never love anybody but you, +that you may rely, and I will live an old maid to the end of my days +rather than take up with any other chap; and I should like to see +you once, if convenient, before we part for ever, to tell you all +this, and to say "Good-bye" and "God bless you." So you must find +out a way to let me know quiet when you come home from learning the +farming in Somerset.' + +And may I be forgiven the deceitfulness, and what I may call the +impudence of it! I really did give father that same letter to post, +and him believing me to be a better girl than I was, to my shame, +posted it, not doubting that I had only wrote what he told me. + +That was the saddest summer ever I had. The roses was nothing to me, +nor the lavender neither, that I had always been so fond of; and as +for the raspberries, I don't believe I should have cared if there +hadn't been one on the canes; and even the little chickens, I +thought them a bother, and--it goes to my heart to say it--a whole +sitting was eaten by the rats in consequence. Everything seemed to +go wrong. The butter was twice as long a-coming as ever I knowed it, +and the broad beans got black fly, and father lost half his hay with +the weather. If it had been me that had done something unkind, +father would have said it was a Providence on me. But, of course, I +knew better than to speak up to my own father, with his hay lying +rotting and smoking in the ten-acre, and telling him he was a-being +judged. + +Well, the harvest was got in. It was neither here nor there. I have +seen better years and I have seen worse. And October come. I was +getting to bed one night; at least, I hadn't begun to undress, for I +was sitting there with William's letters, as he had wrote me from +time to time while he was in Somerset, and I was reading them over +and thinking of William, silly fashion, as a young girl will, and +wishing it had been me was a Roman Catholic and him a Protestant, +because then I could have gone into a convent like the wicked people +in father's story-books. I was in that state of silliness, you see, +that I would have liked to do something for William, even if it was +only going into a convent--to be bricked up alive, perhaps. And then +I hears a scratch, scratch, scratching, and 'Drat the mice,' says I; +but I didn't take any notice, and then there was a little tap, +tapping, like a bird would make with its beak on the window-pane, +and I went and opened it, thinking it was a bird that had lost its +way and was coming foolish-like, as they will, to the light. So I +drew the curtain and opened the window, and it was--William! + +'Oh, go away, do,' says I; 'father will hear you.' + +He had climbed up by the pear-tree that grew right and left up the +wall, and-- + +'I ask your pardon,' says he, 'my pretty sweetheart, for making so +free as to come to your window this time of night, but there didn't +seem any other way.' + +'Oh, go, dear William, do go,' says I. I expected every moment to +see the door open and father put his head in. + +'I'm not going,' said William, 'till you tell me where you'll meet +me to say "Good-bye" and "God bless you," like you said in the +letter.' + +Though I knew the whole parish better than I know the palm of my +hand, if you'll believe me, I couldn't for the life of me for the +moment think of any place where I could meet William, and I stood +like a fool, trembling. Oh, what a jump I gave when I heard a noise +like a heavy foot in the garden outside! + +'Oh! it's father got round. Oh! he'll kill you, William. Oh! +whatever shall we do?' + +'Nonsense!' said William, and he caught hold of my shoulder and gave +me a gentle little shake. 'It was only one of these pears as I +kicked off. They must be as hard as iron to fall like that.' + +Then he gave me a kiss, and I said: 'Then I'll meet you by the +Parson's Shave to-morrow at half-past five, and do go. My heart's +a-beating so I can hardly hear myself speak.' + +'Poor little bird!' says William. Then he kissed me again and off he +went; and considering how quiet he came, so that even I couldn't +hear him, you would not believe the noise he made getting down that +pear-tree. I thought every minute some one would be coming in to see +what was happening. + +Well, the next day I went about my work as frightened as a rabbit, +and my heart beating fit to choke me, trying not to think of what I +had promised to do. At tea-time father says, looking straight before +him-- + +'William Birt has come home, Kate. You remember I've got your +promise not to pass no words with him, him being where he is, +without the fold, among the dogs and things.' + +And I didn't answer back, though I knew well enough it wasn't +honest; but he hadn't got my word. Father had brought me up careful +and kind, and I knew my duty to my parents, and I meant to do it, +too. But I couldn't help thinking I owed a little bit of a duty to +William, and I meant doing that, so far as keeping my promise to +meet him that afternoon went. So after tea I says, and I do think it +is almost the only lie I ever told-- + +'Mother,' I says, 'I've got the jumping toothache, and it's that bad +I can hardly see to thread my needle.' + +Then she says, as I knew she would, her being as kind an old soul as +ever trod: 'Go and lie down a bit and put the old sheepskin coat +over your head, and I'll get on with the darning.' + +So I went upstairs trembling all over. I took the bolster and pillow +and put them under the covers, to look as like me as I could, and I +put the old sheepskin coat at the top of all; and as you come into +the room any one would have thought it was me lying there with the +toothache. Then I took my hat and shawl and I went out, quiet as a +mouse, through the dairy. When I got to the Parson's Shave there was +William, and I was so glad to see him, I didn't think of nothing +else for full half a minute. Then William said-- + +'It's only one field to the church. Why not go up there and sit in +the porch? See, it's coming on to rain.' + +So he took my arm, and we started across the field, where all the +days of the year but one you would not meet a soul. We went up +through the churchyard. It was 'most dark, but I wasn't a bit afraid +with William's arm round me. But when we got to the porch and had +sat down, I was sorry I'd come, for I heard feet on the road below, +and they stopped outside the lychgate. + +'Come, quick,' says I, 'or we're caught like rats in a trap. If I am +going to give you up to please father, I may as well please him all +round. There's no reason why he should know I've seen you.' + +'So we stole on our tiptoes round to the little door that is hardly +ever fastened, and so through to the tower. Father being one of the +bellringers, I knew every step. There's a stone seat cut out of the +wall in the bellringers' loft, and there we sat down again, and I +was just going to tell him again what I had said in the letter about +being his sister and a friend, which seemed to comfort me somehow, +though William has told me since it never would have him, when +William, he gripped my hand like iron, and ''S-sh!' says he, +'listen.' And I listened, and oh! what I felt when I heard footsteps +coming up the tower. I didn't dare speak a word to him, and only +kept tight hold of his hand, and pulled him along till we got to the +tower steps, and went on up. But I says to myself, 'Oh, what's my +head made of, to forget that it's practising night? and Him the +church was built for only knows how long they won't be here +practising!' We went on up the twisted cobwebby stairs, with bits of +broken birds' nests that crackled under our feet that loud I thought +for sure the folks below must hear us; and we got into the belfry, +and there William was for staying, but I whispered to him-- + +'If you hear them bells when they're all a-going, you won't never +hear much else. We must get on up out of it unless we want to be +deaf the rest of our lives.' + +And it was pitch dark in the belfry, except for the little grey +slits where the shuttered windows are. The owls and starlings were +frightened, I suppose, at hearing us, though why they should have +been, I don't know, being used to the bells; and they flew about +round us liker ghosts than anything feathered, and one great owl +flopped out right into my face, till I nearly screamed again. It was +all very, very dusty, and not being able to see, and being afraid to +strike a light, we had to feel along the big beams for our way +between the bells, I going first, because I knew the way, and +reaching back a hand every now and then to see that William was +coming after me safe and sound. On hands and knees we had to go for +safety, and all the while I was dreading they would start the bells +a-going and, maybe, shake William, who wasn't as used to it as I +was, off the beams, and him perhaps be smashed to pieces by the +bells as they swung. + +I don't know how long it took us to get across the belfry to the +corner where the ladder is that leads up to the tower-top. William +says it must have been about a couple of minutes, but I think it was +much more like half an hour. I thought we should never get there, +and oh! what it was to me when I came to the end of the last beam, +and got my foot down on the firm floor again, and the ladder in my +hand, and William behind me! So up we went, me first again, because +I knew the way and the fastenings of the door. And that part of it +wasn't so bad, for I will say, if you've got to go up a long ladder, +it's better to go up in the dark, when you can't see what's below +you if you happen to slip; and I got up and opened the door, and it +was light out of doors and fresh with the rain--though that had +stopped now. + +Then William would take his coat off, and put it round me, for all I +begged him not, and presently the tower began to shake and the bells +began, and directly they began I knew what they was up to. + +'O William,' I says, 'it's Grandsire Triples, and there's five +thousand and fifty changes to 'em, and it's a matter of three +hours!' + +But he couldn't hear a word I said for the bells. So then I took his +coat and my shawl, and we wrapped them round both our heads to shut +the bells out, and then we could hear each other speak inside. + +I'm not going to write down all I said nor all he said, which was +only foolishness--and besides, it come to nothing after all. But +somehow the time wasn't long; and it's a funny thing, but unhappy +and happy you can be at the same time when you are with one you love +and are going to leave. William, he begged and prayed of me not to +give him up. But I said I knew my duty, and he said he hoped I would +think better of it, and I said, 'No, never,' and then we kissed each +other again, and the bells went on, and on, and on, clingle, +clangle, clingle, chim, chime, chim, chime, till I was 'most dazed, +and felt as if I had lived up there all my life, and was going to +live up there twenty lives longer. + +'I'll wait for you all my life long,' says William. 'Not that I wish +the old man any harm, but it's not in the nature of things your +father can live for ever, and then--' + +'It ain't no use thinking of that, William,' said I. 'Father is sure +to make me promise never to have you--when he's dying, and I can't +refuse him anything. It's just the kind of thing he'd think of.' + +Perhaps you will think William ought to have made more stand, for +everybody likes a masterful man; but what stand can you make when +you are up in a belfry with the bells shouting and yelling at you, +and when the girl you are with won't listen to reason? And you have +no idea what them bells were. Often and often since then I have +started up in the bed thinking I heard them again. It was enough to +drive one distracted. + +'Well,' says William, 'you'll give me up, but I'll never give you +up; and you mark my words, you and me will be man and wife some +day.' + +And as he said it, the bells stopped sudden in the middle of a +change. The rain had come on again. It was very chill up there. My +teeth was chattering, and so was William's, though he pretended he +did it for the joke. + +'Let's get inside again,' says he. 'Perhaps they are going home, and +if they are not, we can stay there till they begin it again.' + +So we opened the door and crept down the ladder. There was light now +coming up from the bellringers' loft through the holes in the floor, +and we got down to the belfry easy, and as we got to the bottom of +the ladder I heard my father's voice in the loft below-- + +'I don't believe it,' he was shouting. 'It can't be true. She's a +God-fearing girl.' + +And then I heard my mother. 'Come home, James,' she said, 'come +home--it's true. I told you you was too hard on them. Young folks +will be young folks, and now, perhaps, our little girl has come to +shame instead of being married decent, as she might have been, +though Roman.' + +Then there was silence for a bit, and then my father says, speaking +softer, 'Tell me again. I can't think but what I'm dreaming.' + +Then mother says--'Don't I tell you she said she'd got the +toothache, and she was going to lie down a bit, and I went to take +her up some camomiles I'd been hotting, and she wasn't there, and +her bolsters and pillows, poor lamb, made up to pretend she was, and +Johnson's Ben, he see her along of William Birt by the Parson's +Shave with his arm round her--God forgive them both!' + +Then says my father, 'Here's an end on't. She's no daughter o' mine. +If she was to come back to me, I'd turn her out of doors. Don't let +any one name her name to me never no more. I hain't got no +daughter,' he said, 'and may the Lord--' + +I think my mother put her hands afore his mouth, for he stopped +short, and mother, she said-- + +'Don't curse them, James. You'll be sorry for it, and they'll have +trouble enough without that.' + +And with that father and mother must have gone away, and the other +ringers stood talking a bit. + +'She'd best not come back,' said the leader, John Evans. 'Out +a-gallivanting with a young chap from five to eight as I understand! +What's the good of coming back? She's lost her character, and a gal +without a character, she's like--like--' + +'Like a public-house without a licence,' said the second ringer. + +'Or a cart without a horse,' said the treble. + +There was only one man spoke up for me--that was Jim Piper at the +general shop. 'I don't believe no harm of that gal,' says he, 'no +more nor I would of my own missus, nor yet of him.' + +'Well, let's hope for the best,' said the others. But I had a sort +of feeling they was hoping for the worst, because when things goes +wrong, it's always more amusing for the lookers-on than when +everything goes right. Presently they went clattering down the +steps, and all was dark, and there was me and William among the +cobwebs and the owls, holding each other's hands, and as cold as +stone, both of us. + +'Well?' says William, when everything was quiet again. + +'Well!' says I. 'Good-bye, William. He won't be as hard as his word, +and if I couldn't give you all my life to be a good wife to you, I +have given you my character, it seems; not willing, it's true; but +there's nothing I should grudge you, William, and I don't regret it, +and good-bye.' + +But he held my hands tight. + +'Good-bye, William,' I says again. 'I'm going. I'm going home.' + +'Yes, my girl,' says he, 'you are going home; you're going home with +me to my mother.' And he was masterful enough then, I can tell you. +'If your father would throw you off without knowing the rights or +wrongs of the story, it's not for him you should be giving up your +happiness and mine, my girl. Come home to my mother, and let me see +the man who dares to say anything against my wife.' + +And whether it was father's being so hard and saying what he did +about me before all those men, or whether it was me knowing that +mother had stood up for us secret all the time, or whether it was +because I loved William so much, or because he loved me so much, I +don't know. But I didn't say another word, only began to cry, and we +got downstairs and straight home to William's mother, and we told +her all about it; and we was cried in church next Sunday, and I +stayed with the old lady until we was married, and many a year +after; and a good mother she was to me, though only in law, and a +good granny to our children when they come. And I wasn't so unhappy +as you may think, because mother come to see me directly, and she +was at our wedding; and father, he didn't say anything to prevent +her going. + +When I was churched after my first, and the boy was christened--in +our own church, for I had made William promise it should be so if +ever we had any--mother was there, and she said to me: 'Take the +child,' she said, 'and go to your father at home; and when he sees +the child, he'll come round, I'll lay a crown; for his bark,' she +says, 'was allus worse than his bite.' + +And I did so, and the pears was hard and red on the wall as they was +the night William climbed up to my window, and I went into the +kitchen, and there was father sitting in his big chair, and the +Bible on the table in front of him, with his spectacles; but he +wasn't reading, and if it had been any one else but father, I should +have said he had been crying. And so I went in, and I showed him the +baby, and I said-- + +'Look, father, here's our little baby; and he's named James, for +you, father, and christened in church the same as I was. And now I +have got a child of my own,' says I, for he didn't speak, 'dear +father, I know what it is to have a child of your own go against +your wishes, and please God mine never will--or against yours +either. But I couldn't help it, and O father, do forgive me!' + +And he didn't say anything, but he kissed the boy, and he kissed him +again. And presently he says-- + +'It's 'most time your mother was home from church. Won't you be +setting the tea, Kate?' + +So I give him the baby to hold, for I knew everything was all right +betwixt us. + +And all the children have been christened in the church. But I think +when father is taken from us--which in the nature of things he must +be, though long may it be first!--I think I shall be a Roman +Catholic too; for it doesn't seem to me to matter much one way or +the other, and it would please William very much, and I am sure it +wouldn't hurt me. And what's the good of being married to the best +man in the world if you can't do a little thing like that to please +him? + + + + +A DEATH-BED CONFESSION + + +AND so you think I shall go to heaven when I die, sir! And why? +Because I have spent my time and what bits of money I've had in +looking after the poor in this parish! And I would do it again if I +had my time to come over again; but it will take more than that to +wipe out my sins, and God forgive me if I can't always believe that +even His mercy will be equal to it. You're a clergyman, and you +ought to know. I think sometimes the black heart in me, that started +me on that deed, must have come from the devil, and that I am his +child after all, and shall go back to him at the last. Don't look so +shocked, sir. That's not what I really believe; it's only what I +sometimes fear I ought to believe, when I wake up in the chill night +and think things over, lying here alone. + +To see me old and prim, with my cap and little checked shawl, you'd +never think that I was once one of the two prettiest girls on all +the South Downs. But I was, and my cousin Lilian was the other. We +lived at Whitecroft together at our uncle's. He was a well-to-do +farmer, as well-to-do as a farmer could be in such times as those, +and on such land as that. + +Whenever I hear people say 'home,' it's Whitecroft I think of, with +its narrow windows and thatch roof and the farm-buildings about it, +and the bits of trees all bent one way with the wind from the sea. + +Whitecroft stands on a shoulder of the Downs, and on a clear day you +can see right out to sea and over the hollow where Felscombe lies +cuddled down close and warm, with its elms and its church, and its +bright bits of gardens. They are sheltered from the sea wind down +there, but there's nothing to break the wing of it as it rolls +across the Downs on to Whitecroft; and of a night Lilian and I used +to lie and listen to the wind banging the windows, and know that the +chimneys were rocking over our heads, and feel the house move to and +fro with the strength of the wind like as if it was the swing of a +cradle. + +Lilian and I had come there, little things, and uncle had brought us +up together, and we loved each other like sisters until that +happened, and this is the first time I have told a human soul about +it; and if being sorry can pay for things--well, but I'm afraid +there are some things nothing can pay for. + +It was one wild windy night, when, if you should open the door an +inch, everything in the house jarred and rattled. We were sitting +round the fire, uncle and Lilian and me, us with our knitting and +him asleep in his newspaper, and nobody could have gone to sleep +with a wind like that but a man who has been bred and born at sea, +or on the South Downs. + +Lilian and I were talking over our new winter dresses, when there +come a knock at the side door, not nigh so loud as some of the +noises the wind made, but not being used to it, uncle sat up, wide +awake, and said, 'Hark!' In a minute it come again, and then I went +to the door and opened it a bit. There was some one outside who +began to speak as soon as he saw the light, but I could not hear +what he said for the roaring of the wind, and the cracking of the +trees outside. + +'Shut that door!' uncle shouted from the parlour. 'Let the dog in, +whatever he is, and let him tell his tale this side the oak.' + +So I let him in and shut the door after him, and I had better have +shut to the lid of my own coffin after me. + +Him that I let in was dripping wet, and all spent with fighting the +wind on these Downs, where it is like a lion roaring for its prey, +and will go nigh to kill you, if you fight it long enough. He leaned +against the wall and said-- + +'I have lost my way, and I have had a nasty fall. I think there is +something wrong with my arm--hollow--slip--light--hospitality beg +your pardon, I'm sure,' and with that he fainted dead off on the +cocoanut matting at my feet. + +Uncle came out when I screamed, and we got the stranger in and put +him on the big couch by the fire. Uncle was nursing up with one of +his bad attacks of bronchitis, the same thing that carried him off +in the end, and the first thing he said when he'd felt the poor +chap's arm down was-- + +'This is a bad break. Which of you girls will go and wake one of the +waggoners to fetch Doctor from Felscombe?' + +'I will,' I said. + +But before I went I got out the port wine and the brandy, and bade +Lilian rub his hands a bit, and be sure she didn't let him see her +looking frightened when he come to. + +Why did I do that? Because the Lord made me to be a fool--giving him +her pretty face to be the first thing he looked at when he come to +after that long, dreary spell on the Downs, and that black journey +into the strange place where people go to when they faint. + +But everything that there was of me ached to be of some use to him. +So I went, and once outside the door it seemed easier to take Brown +Bess and go myself to Felscombe than to rouse the waggoners, who +were but sleepy and slow-headed at the best of times. So I saddled +Brown Bess myself and started. + +It was but a small way across the Downs that I had to lead her, it +being almost as much as both of us could do to keep our feet in the +fury of the wind. Then you go down the steep hill into the village, +and as soon as we had passed the brow, it was easy and I mounted. I +was down there in less time than it would have taken to rouse one of +those heavy-headed carters; and Doctor, he come back with me, +walking beside Brown Bess with his hand on her bridle, he not being +by any means loth to come out such a night, because, forsooth, it +was me that fetched him. Oh yes! I might have married him if I had +wanted to, and more than one better man than him; but that's neither +here nor there. + +When we got in, we found Lilian kneeling by the sofa rubbing the +young man's hands as I had told her to, and his eyes were open, and +there was a bit of colour in his cheek, and he was looking at her +like as any one but a fool might have known he would look; and the +Doctor, he saw it too, and looked at me and grinned; and if I had +been God, that grin should have been his last. No, I don't mean to +be irreverent, but it's true, all the same. + +Well, the arm was set, and when he was a bit easier we settled round +the fire, and he told us that his name was Edgar Linley, and he was +an artist, and had been painting the angry sunset that had come +before that night's storm, and got caught in the dusk and so lost +his way, as many do on our Downs at home, some not so lucky as him +to see a light and get to it. + +This Mr. Linley had a way with him like no other man I ever see; not +only a way to please women with, but men too. I never saw my uncle +so taken up with anybody; and the long and the short of it was that +he stayed there a month, and we nursed him; and at the end of the +month I knew no more than I had known that evening when I had seen +him looking at Lilian; but he and Lilian, they had learned a deal in +that time. + +And one evening I was at my bedroom window, and I see them coming up +the path in the red light of the evening, walking very close +together, and I went down very quick to the parlour, where uncle was +just come in to his tea and taking his big boots off, and I sat down +there, for I wanted to hear how they'd say it, though I knew well +enough what they had got to say. And they came in and he says, very +frank and cheery-- + +'Mr. Verinder,' he says, 'Lilian and I have made up our minds to +take each other, with your consent, for better, for worse.' + +And uncle was as pleased as Punch; and as for me, I didn't believe +in God then, or I should have prayed Him to strike them both down +dead as they stood. + +Why did I hate them so? And you call yourself a man and a parson, +and one that knows the heart of man! Why did I hate them? Because I +loved him as no woman will ever love you, sir, if you'll pardon me +being so bold, if you live to be a thousand. + +He would have understood all about everything with half what I have +been telling you. As it is, I sometimes think that he understood, +for he was very gentle with me and kind, not making too much of +Lilian when I was by, yet never with a look or a word that wasn't +the look and the word of her good, true lover; and she was very +happy, for she loved him as much as that blue-and-white teacup kind +of woman can love; and that's more than I thought for at the time. + +He was an orphan, and well off, and there was nothing to wait for, +so the wedding was fixed for early in the new year; and I sewed at +her new clothes with a marrow of lead in every bone of my fingers. + +A truly understanding person might get some meaning out of my words +when I say that I loved her in my heart all the time that I was +hating her; and the devil himself must have sent out my soul and +made use of the rest of me on that night I shall tell you about +presently. + +It was in the sharp, short, frosty days that brought in Christmas +that uncle came home one day from Lewes, looking thunder black, with +an eye like fire and a mouth like stone. And he walked straight into +the kitchen where we three were making toast for tea, for Edgar was +one of us by this time, and lent a hand at all such little things as +young folks can be merry over together. And uncle says-- + +'Leave my house, young man; it's an honest house and a clean, and no +fit place for a sinful swine. Get out,' he says, '"For without are +dogs--"' + +With that he went on with a long text of Revelation that I won't +repeat to you, sir, for I know your ears are nice, and it's out of +one of the plainest-spoken parts of the Bible. Edgar turned as white +as a sheet. + +'I swear to God,' he said, 'I wasn't to blame. I know what you have +heard, but if I can't whiten myself without blacking a woman + +I'll live and die as black as hell,' he says. 'But I don't need +whitening with those that love me,' he says, looking at Lilian and +then at me--oh! yes, he looked at me then. + +I said, 'No, indeed,' and so did Lilian; but she began to cry, and +before we had time to think what it was all about, he had taken his +hat and kissed Lilian and was gone. But he turned back at the door +again. + +'I'll write to you,' he says to Lilian, 'but I don't cross this door +again till those words are unsaid,' and so he was gone. + +Him being gone, uncle told us what he had heard in Lewes, and what +all folks there believed to be the truth; how young Edgar had +carried on, as men may not, with a young married woman, the grocer's +wife where he lodged, the end of it being that she drowned herself +in a pond near by, leaving as her last word that he was the cause of +it; and so he may have been, but not the way my uncle and the folk +at Lewes thought, I'll stake my soul. God makes His troubles in +dozens; He don't make a new patterned one for every back. I wasn't +the only woman who ever loved Edgar Linley without encouragement and +without hope, and risked her soul because she was mad with loving +him. + +But when uncle had told us all this with a black look on his face I +never had seen before, he said-- + +'Girls, I have always been a clean liver, and I have brought you up +in the fear of the Lord. I don't want to judge any man, and Lilian +is of age and her own mistress. It's not for me to say what she +shall or shan't do, but if she marries that scoundrel, she has my +curse here and hereafter, and not one penny of my money, if it was +to save her from the workhouse.' + +After that we were sad enough at Whitecroft. But in two days come a +letter from Edgar to Lilian; and when she had read it, she looked at +me and said, 'O Isabel, whatever shall I do? I never can marry +without dear uncle's consent,' and I turned and went from her +without a word, because I couldn't bear to see her arguing and +considering what to do, when the best thing in the world was to her +hand for the taking. + +All the next week she cried all day and most of the night. Then +uncle went to London, my belief being it was to alter his will, so +that if Lilian married Edgar, she should feel it in her pocket, +anyhow, and he was to stay all night, and the farm servants slept +out of the house, and we were without a maid at the time. So Lilian +and me were left alone at Whitecroft. + +Lilian and I didn't sleep in one room now. I had made some excuse to +sleep on the other side of the house, because I couldn't bear to +wake up of mornings and see her lying there so pretty, looking like +a lily in her white nightgown and her fair hair all tumbled about +her face. It was more than any woman could have borne to see her +lying there, and think that early in the new year it was him that +would see her lying like that of a morning. + +And that night the place seemed very quiet and empty, as if there +was more room in it for being unhappy in. When Lilian had taken her +candle and gone up to bed, I walked through all the rooms below, as +uncle's habit was, to see that all was fast for the night. It was as +I set the bolt on the door of the little lean-to shed, where the +faggots were kept, that the devil entered into me all in a breath; +and I thought of Lilian upstairs in her white bed, and of how the +day must come, when he would see how pretty she looked and white, +and I said to myself, 'No, it never shall, not if I burn for it +too.' + +I hope you are understanding me. I sometimes think there is +something done to folks when they are learning to be parsons as +takes out of them a part of a natural person's understandingness; +and I would rather have told the doctor, but then he couldn't have +told me whether these are the kind of things Christ died to make His +Father forgive, and I suppose you can. + +What I did was this. I clean forgot all about uncle and how fond I +was of Whitecroft, and how much I had always loved Lilian (and I +loved her then, though I know you can't understand me when I say +so), and I took all them faggots, dragging them across the sanded +floor of the kitchen, and I put them in the parlour in the little +wing to the left, and just under Lilian's bedroom, and I laid them +under the wooden corner cupboard where the best china is, and then I +poured oil and brandy all over, and set it alight. + +Then I put on my hat and jacket, buttoning it all the way down, as +quiet as if I was going down to the village for a pound of candles. +And I made sure all was burning free, and out of the front door I +went and up on to the Downs, and there I set me down under the wall +where I could see Whitecroft. + +And I watched to see the old place burn down; and at first there was +no light to be seen. + +But presently I see the parlour windows get redder and redder, and +soon I knew the curtains had caught, and then there was a light in +Lilian's bedroom. I see the bars of the window as you do in the +ruined mill when the sun is setting behind it; and the light got +more and more, till I see the stone above the front door that tells +how it was builded by one of our name this long time since; and at +that, as sudden as he had come, the devil left me, and I knew all in +a minute that I was crouched against a wall, very cold, and my hands +hooked into my hair over my ears, and my knees drawn up under my +chin; and there was the old house on fire, the dear old house, with +Lilian inside it in her little white bed, being burnt to death, and +me her murderer! And with that I got up, and I remember I was stiff, +as if I had been screwing myself all close together to keep from +knowing what it was I had been a-doing. I ran down the meadow to our +house faster than I ever ran in my life, in at the door, and up the +stairs, all blue and black, and hidden up with coppery-coloured +smoke. + +I don't know how I got up them stairs, for they were beginning to +burn too. I opened her door--all red and glowing it was inside! like +an oven when you open it to rake out the ashes on a baking-day. And +I tried to get in, because all I wanted then was to save her--to get +her out safe and sound, if I had to roast myself for it, because we +had been brought up together from little things, and I loved her +like a sister. And while I was trying to get my jacket off and round +my head, something gave way right under my feet, and I seemed to +fall straight into hell! + +I was badly burnt, and what handsomeness there was about my face was +pretty well scorched out of it by that night's work; and I didn't +know anything for a bit. + +When I come to myself, they had got me into bed bound up with +cotton-wool and oil and things. And the first thing I did was to sit +up and try to tear them off. + +'You'll kill yourself,' says the nurse. + +'Thank you,' says I, 'that's the best thing I can do, now Lilian is +dead.' + +And with that the nurse gives a laugh. 'Oh, that's what's on your +mind, is it?' says she. 'Doctor said there was something. Miss +Lilian had run away that night to her young man. Lucky for her! +She's luckier than you, poor thing! And they're married and living +in lodgings at Brighton, and she's been over to see you every day.' + +That day she came again. I lay still and let her thank me for having +tried to save her; for the farm men had seen the fire, and had come +up in time to see me go up the staircase to her room, and they had +pulled me out. She believes to this day the fire was an accident, +and that I would have sacrificed my life for her. And so I would; +she's right there. + +I wasn't going to make her unhappy by telling her the real truth, +because she was as fond of me as I was of her; and she has been as +happy as the day is long, all her life long, and so she deserves. + +And as for me, I stayed on with uncle at the farm until he died of +that bronchitis I told you of, and the little wing was built up +again, and the lichen has grown on it, so that now you could hardly +tell it is only forty years old; and he left me all his money, and +when he died, and Whitecroft went to a distant relation, I came here +to do what bits of good I could. + +And I have never told the truth about this to any one but you. I +couldn't have told it to any one as cared, but I know you don't. So +that makes it easy. + + + + +HER MARRIAGE LINES + + +I + +I HAD never been out to service before, and I thought it a grand +thing when I got a place at Charleston Farm. Old Mr. Alderton was +close-fisted enough, and while he had the management of the farm it +was a place no girl need have wished to come to; but now Mr. +Alderton had given up farming this year or two, and young Master +Harry, he had the management of everything. Mr. Alderton, he stuck +in one room with his books, which he was always fond of above a bit, +and must needs be waited on hand and foot, only driving over to +Lewes every now and then. + +Six pounds a year I was to have, and a little something extra at +Christmas, according as I behaved myself. It was Master Harry who +engaged me. He rode up to our cottage one fine May morning, looking +as grand on his big grey horse, and says he, through the stamping +clatter of his horse's hoofs on the paved causeway-- + +'Are you Deresby's Poll?' says he. + +And I says, 'Yes; what might you be wanting?' + +'We want a good maid up at the farm,' says he, patting his horse's +neck--'Steady, old boy--and they tell me you're a good girl that +wants a good place, and ours is a good place that wants a good girl. +So if our wages suit you, when can you come?' + +And I said, 'Tuesday, if that would be convenient.' + +And he took off his hat to me as if I was a queen, though I was +floury up to the elbows, being baking-day, and rode off down the +lane between the green trees, and no king could have looked +handsomer. + +Charleston is a lonesome kind of house. It's bare and white, with +the farm buildings all round it, except on one side where the big +pond is; and lying as it does, in the cup of the hill, it seems to +shut loneliness in and good company out. + +I was to be under Mrs. Blake, who had been housekeeper there since +the old mistress died. No one knew where she came from, or what had +become of Mr. Blake, if ever there had been one. For my part I never +thought she was a widow, and always expected some day to see Mr. +Blake walk in and ask for his wife. But as a widow she came, and as +a widow she passed. + +She had just that kind of handsome, black, scowling looks that +always seem to need a lot of black jet and crape to set them +off--the kind of complexion that seems to be playing up for the +widow's weeds from the very cradle. I have heard it said she was +handsome, and so she may have been; and she took a deal of care of +her face, always wearing a veil when there was a wind, and her hands +to have gloves, if you please, for every bit of dirty work. + +But she was a capable woman, and she soon put me in the way of my +work; and me and Betty, who was a little girl of fourteen from +Alfreston, had most of the housework to do, for Mrs. Blake would let +none of us do a hand's-turn for the old master. It was she must do +everything, and as he got more and more took up with his books there +come to be more and more waiting on him in his own room; and after a +bit Mrs. Blake used even to sit and write for him by the hour +together. + +I have heard tell old Mr. Alderton wasn't brought up to be a farmer, +but was a scholar when he was young, and had to go into farming when +he married Hakes's daughter as brought the farm with her; and now he +had gone back to his books he was more than ever took up with the +idea of finding something out--making something new that no one had +ever made before--his invention, he called it, but I never +understood what it was all about--and indeed Mrs. Blake took very +good care I shouldn't. + +She wanted no one to know anything about the master except +herself--at least that was my opinion--and if that was her wish she +certainly got it. + +It was hard work, but I'm not one to grudge a hand's-turn here or a +hand's-turn there, and I was happy enough; and when the men came in +for their meals I always had everything smoking hot, and just as I +should wish to sit down to it myself: And when the men come in, +Master Harry always come in with them, and he'd say, 'Bacon and +greens again, Polly, and done to a turn, I'll wager. You're the girl +for my money!' and sit down laughing to a smoking plateful. + +And so I was quite happy, and with my first six months' money I got +father a new pipe and a comforter agin the winter, and as pretty a +shepherd's plaid shawl as ever you see for mother, and a knitted +waistcoat for my brother Jim, as had wanted one this two year, and +had enough left to buy myself a bonnet and gown that I didn't feel +ashamed to sit in church in under Master Harry's own blue eye. Mrs. +Blake looked very sour when she saw my new things. + +'You think to catch a young man with those,' says she. 'You gells is +all alike. But it isn't fine feathers as catches a husband, as they +say. Don't you believe it.' + +And I said, 'No; a husband as was caught so easy might be as easy +got rid of, which was convenient sometimes.' + +And we come nigh to having words about it. + +That was the day before old master went off to London unexpected. +When Mrs. Blake heard he was going, she said she would take the +opportunity of his being away to make so bold as to ask him for a +day's holiday to go and visit her friends in Ashford. So she and +master went in the trap to the station together, and off by the same +train; and curious enough, it was by the same train in the evening +they come back, and I thought to myself, 'That's like your +artfulness, Mrs. Blake, getting a lift both ways.' + +And I wondered to myself whether her friends in Ashford, supposing +she had any, was as glad to see her as we was glad to get rid of +her. + +That's a day I shall always remember, for other things than her and +master going away. + +That was the day Betty and I got done early, and she wanted to run +home to her mother to see about her clean changes for Sunday, which +hadn't come according to expectations. + +So I said, 'Off you go, child, and mind you're back by tea,' and I +sat down in the clean kitchen to do up my old Sunday bonnet and make +it fit for everyday. + +And as I was sitting there, with the bits of ribbons and things in +my lap, unpicking the lining of the bonnet, I heard the back door +open, and thinking it was one of the men bringing in wood, maybe, I +didn't turn my head, and next minute there was Master Harry had got +his hand under my chin and holding my head back, and was kissing me +as if he never meant to stop. + +'Lor bless you, Master Harry,' says I, as soon as I could push him +away, dropping all the ribbons and scissors and things in my flurry, +'how could you fashion to behave so? And me alone in the house! I +thought you had better sense.' + +'Don't be cross, Polly,' says he, smiling at me till I could have +forgiven him much more than that, and going down on his knees to +pick up my bits of rubbish. 'You know well enough who my choice is. +I haven't lived in the house with you six months without finding out +there's only one girl as I should like to keep my house to the end +of the chapter.' + +He had that took me by surprise that I give you my word that for a +minute or two I couldn't say anything, but sat looking like a fool +and taking the ribbons and things from his hands as he picked them +up. + +When I come to my senses I said, 'I don't know what maggot has bit +you, sir, to think of such nonsense. What would the master say, and +Mrs. Blake and all?' + +Well, he got up off his knees and walked up and down the kitchen +twice in a pretty fume, and he said a bad word about what Mrs. Blake +might say that I'm not going to write down here. + +'And as for my father,' says he, 'I know he's ideas above what's +fitting for farmer folk, but I know best what's the right choice for +me, and if you won't mind me not telling him, and will wait for me +patient, and will give me a kind word and a kiss on a Sunday, so to +say, you and me will be happy together, and you shall be mistress of +the farm when the poor old dad's time comes to go. Not that I wish +his time nearer by an hour, for all I love you so dear, Polly.' + +And I hope I did what was right, though it was with a sore heart, +for I said-- + +'I couldn't stay on in your folks' house to have secret +understandings with you, Master Harry. That ain't to be thought of. +But I do say this--'tain't likely that I shall marry any other chap; +and if, when you come to be master of Charleston, you are in the +same mind, why you can speak your mind to me again, and I'll listen +to you then with a freer heart, maybe, than I can to-day.' + +And with that I bundled all my odds and ends into the dresser +drawer, and took the kettle off, which was a-boiling over. + +'And now,' I says, 'no more of this talk, if you and me is to keep +friends.' + +'Shake hands on it,' says he; 'you're a good girl, Polly, and I see +more than ever what a lucky man I shall be the day I go to church +with you; and I'll not say another word till I can say it afore all +the world, with you to answer "Yes" for all the world to hear.' + +So that was settled, and, of course, from that time I kept myself +more than ever to myself, not even passing the time of day with a +young man if I could help it, because I wanted to keep all my +thoughts and all my words for Master Harry, if he should ever want +me again. + + +II + +Well, as I said, old Master and Mrs. Blake come back together from +the station, and from that day forward Mrs. Blake was unbearabler +than ever. And one day when Mr. Sigglesfield, the lawyer from Lewes, +was in the parlour, she a-talking to him after he'd been up to see +master (about his will, no doubt), she opened the parlour door sharp +and sudden just as I was bringing the tea for her to have it with +him like a lady--she opened the door sudden, as I say, and boxed my +ears as I stood, and I should have dropped the tea-tray but for me +being brought up a careful girl, and taught always to hold on to the +tea-tray with all my fingers. + +I'm proud to say I didn't say a word, but I put down that tea-tray +and walked into the kitchen with my ear as hot as fire and my temper +to match, which was no wonder and no disgrace. Then she come into +the kitchen. + +'You go this day month, Miss,' she says, 'a-listening at doors when +your betters is a-talking. I'll teach you!' says she, and back she +goes into the parlour. + +But I took no notice of what she said, for Master Harry, he hired +me, and I would take no notice from any one but him. + +Mr. Sigglesfield was a-coming pretty often just then, and Harry he +come to me one day, and he says-- + +'It's all right, Polly, and I must tell you because you're the same +as myself, though I don't like to talk as if we was waiting for dead +men's shoes. Long may he wear them! But father's told me he has left +everything to me, right and safe, though I am the second son. My +brother John never did get on with father, but when all's mine, +we'll see that John don't starve.' + +And that day week old master was a corpse. + +He was found dead in his bed, and the doctor said it was old age and +a sudden breaking up. + +Mrs. Blake she cried and took on fearful, more than was right or +natural, and when the will was to be read in the parlour after the +funeral she come into the kitchen where I was sitting crying +too--not that I was fond of old master, but the kind of crying there +is at funerals is catching, I think, and besides, I was sorry for +Master Harry, who was a good son, and quite broken down. + +'You can come and hear the will read,' she says, 'for all your +impudence, you hussy!' + +And I don't know why I went in after her impudence, but I did. Mr. +Sigglesfield was there, and some of the relations, who had come a +long way to hear if they was to pull anything out of the fire; and +Master Harry was there, looking very pale through all his +sun-brownness. And says he, 'I suppose the will's got to be read, +but my father, he told me what I was to expect. It's all to me, and +one hundred to Mrs. Blake, and five pounds apiece to the servants.' + +And Mr. Sigglesfield looks at him out of his ferret eyes, and says +very quietly, 'I think the will had better be read, Mr. Alderton.' + +'So I think,' says Mrs. Blake, tossing her head and rubbing her red +eyes with her handkerchief at the same minute almost. + +And read it was, and all us people sat still as mice, listening to +the wonderful tale of it. For wonderful it was, though folded up +very curious and careful in a pack of lawyer's talk. And when it was +finished, Master Harry stood up on his feet, and he said-- + +'I don't understand your cursed lawyer's lingo. Does this mean that +my father has left me fifty pounds, and has left the rest, stock, +lock and barrel, to his wife Martha. Who in hell,' he says, 'is his +wife Martha?' + +And at that Mrs. Blake stood up and fetched a curtsy to the company. + +'That's me,' she said, 'by your leave; married two months come +Tuesday, and here's my lines.' + +And there they were. There was no getting over them. Married at St. +Mary Woolnoth, in London, by special licence. + +'O you wicked old Jezebel!' says Master Harry, shaking his fist at +her; 'here's a fine end for a young man's hopes! Is it true?' says +he, turning to the lawyer. And Mr. Sigglesfield shakes his head and +says-- + +'I am afraid so, my poor fellow.' + +'Jezebel, indeed!' cries Mrs. Blake. 'Out of my house, my young +gamecock! Get out and crow on your own dunghill, if you can find +one.' + +And Harry turned and went without a word. Then I slipped out too, +and I snatched my old bonnet and shawl off their peg in the kitchen, +and I ran down the lane after him. + +'Harry,' says I, and he turned and looked at me like something +that's hunted looks when it gets in a corner and turns on you. Then +I got up with him and caught hold of his arm with both my hands. +'Never mind the dirty money,' says I. 'What's a bit of money,' I +says--'what is it, my dear, compared with true love? I'll work my +fingers to the bone for you,' says I, 'and we're better off than her +when all's said and done.' + +'So we are, my girl,' says he; and the savage look went out of his +face, and he kissed me for the second time. + +Then we went home, arm-under-arm, to my mother's, and we told father +and mother all about it; and mother made Harry up a bit of a bed on +the settle, and he stayed with us till he could pull himself +together and see what was best to be done. + + +III + +Of course, our first thought was, 'Was she really married?' And it +was settled betwixt us that Harry should go up to London to the +church named in her marriage lines and see if it was a real marriage +or a make-up, like what you read of in the weekly papers. And Harry +went up, I settling to go the same day to fetch my clothes from +Charleston. + +So as soon as I had seen him off by the train, I walked up to +Charleston, and father with me, to fetch my things. + +Mrs. Blake--for Mrs. Alderton I can't and won't call her--was out, +and I was able to get my bits of things together comfortable without +her fussing and interfering. But there was a pair of scissors of +mine I couldn't find, and I looked for them high and low till I +remembered that I had lent them to Mrs. Blake the week before. So I +went to her room to look for them, thinking no harm; and there, +looking in her corner cupboard for my scissors, as I had a right to +do, I found something else that I hadn't been looking for; and, +right or wrong, I put that in my pocket and said nothing to father, +and so we went home and sat down to wait for Harry. + +He came in by the last train, looking tired and gloomy. + +'They were married right enough,' he said. 'I've seen the register, +and I've seen the clerk, and he remembers them being married.' + +'Then you'd better have a bit of supper, my boy,' says mother, and +takes it smoking hot out of the oven. + +The next day when I had cleared away breakfast, I stood looking into +the street. It was a cold day, and a day when nobody would be out of +doors that could anyways be in. I shouldn't have had my nose out of +the door myself, except that I wanted to turn my back on other folks +now, and think of what I had found at Charleston, for I hadn't even +told Harry of it yet. + +And as I sat there, who should come along but the postman, as is my +second cousin by the mother's side, and, 'Well, Polly,' says he, +'times do change. They tell me young Alderton is biding with your +folks now.' + +'They tell you true for once,' says I. + +'Then 'tain't worth my while to be trapesing that mile and a quarter +to leave a letter at the farm, I take it, especially as it's a +registered letter, and him not there to sign for it.' + +So I calls Harry out, who was smoking a pipe in the chimney-corner, +as humped and gloomy as a fowl on a wet day, and he was as surprised +as me at getting a letter with a London postmark, and registered +too; and he was that surprised that he kept turning it over and +over, and wondering who it could have come from, till we thought it +would be the best way to open and see, and we did. + +'Well, I'm blowed!' says Harry; and then he read it out to me. It +was-- + + +'MY DEAR BROTHER,--I have seen in the papers the melancholy account +of our poor father's decease, and the disastrous circumstances of +his second marriage; and the more I have thought of it, the more it +seems to me that there was a screw loose somewhere. I had the +misfortune, as you know, to offend him by my choice of a profession; +but you will be glad to hear that I have risen from P.C. to +detective-sergeant, and am doing well. + +'I have made a few inquiries about the movements of our lamented +father and Mrs. Blake on the day when they were united, and if the +same will be agreeable to you, I will come down Sunday morning and +talk matters over with you.--I remain, my dear brother, your +affectionate brother, + +JOHN. + +'_P.S._ I shall register the letter to make sure. Telegraph if +you would like me to come.' + + +Well, we telegraphed, though mother doesn't hold with such things, +looking on it as flying in the face of Providence and what's +natural. But we got it all in, with the address, for sixpence, and +Harry was as pleased as Punch to think of seeing his brother again. +But mother said she doubted if it would bring a blessing. And on the +Sunday morning John came. + +He was a very agreeable, gentlemanly man, with such manners as you +don't see in Littlington--no, nor in Polegate neither,--and very +changed from the boy with the red cheeks as used to come past our +house on his way to school when he was very little. + +Harry met him at the station and brought him home, and when he come +in he kissed me like a brother, and mother too, and he said-- + +'The best good of trouble, ma'am, is to show you who your friends +really are.' + +'Ah,' says mother, 'I doubt if all the detectives in London, asking +your pardon, Master John, can set Master Harry up in his own again. +But he's got a pair of hands, and so has my Polly, and he might have +chosen worse, though I says it.' + +Now, after dinner, when I'd cleared away, nothing would serve but I +must go out with the two of them. So we went out, and walked up on +to the Downs for quietness' sake, and it was a warm day and soft, +though November, and we leaned against a grey gate and talked it all +over. + +Then says Master John, 'Look here, Polly, we aren't to have any +secrets from you. There's no doubt they were married, but doesn't it +seem to you rather strange that my poor old father should have been +taken off so suddenly after the wedding?' + +'Yes,' I said, 'but the doctors seemed to understand all about it.' + +Then he said something about the doctors that it was just as well +they weren't there to hear, and he went on-- + +'Of course I thought at first they weren't married, so I set about +finding out what they did when they came to London; and I haven't +found out what my father did, but I did pounce on a bit of news, and +that's that she wasn't with him the whole day. They came to Charing +Cross by the same train, but he wasn't with her when she went to get +that arsenic from the chemist's.' + +'What!' says I, 'arsenic?' + +'Yes,' says John, 'don't you get excited, my dear. I found that out +by a piece of luck once as doesn't come to a man every day of the +week. A woman answering to her description went into a chemist's +shop, and the assistant gave the arsenic, a shilling's-worth it was, +to kill rats with.' + +'And God above only knows why they put such bits of fools into a +shop to sell sixpenny-worths of death over the counter,' says Harry. + +'Now the question is: Was this woman answering to her description +really Mrs. Blake or not?' + +'It was Mrs. Blake,' says I, very short and sharp. + +'How do you know?' says John, shorter and sharper. + +Then I put my hand in my pocket and pulled out what I had found in +Mrs. Blake's corner cupboard, and John took it in his hand and +looked at it, and whistled long and low. It was a little white +packet, and had been opened and the label torn across, but you could +read what was on it plain enough--'Arsenic--Poison,' and the name of +the chemist in London. + +John's face was red as fire, like some men's is when they're going +in fighting, and my Harry's as white as milk, as some other men's is +at such times. But as for me, I fell a-crying to think that any +woman could be so wicked, and him such a good master and so kind to +her, and she having the sole care of him, helpless in her hands as +the new-born babe. + +And Harry, he patted me on the back, and told me to cheer up and not +to cry, and to be a good girl; and presently, my handkerchief being +wet through, I stopped, and then John, he said-- + +'We'll bring it home to her yet, Harry, my boy. I'll get an order to +have poor old father exhumed, and the doctors shall tell us how much +of the arsenic that cursed old hag gave him.' + +IV I don't know what you have to do to get an order to open up a +grave and look at the poor dead person after it is once put away, +but, whatever it was, John knew and did it. + +We didn't tell any one except our dear old parson who buried the old +man; and he listened to all we had to say, and shook his head and +said, 'I think you are wrong--I think you are wrong,' but that was +only natural, him not liking to see his good work disturbed. But he +said he would be there. + +Now, no one was told of it, and yet it seemed as if every one for +miles round knew more than we did about it. + +Afore the day come, old Mrs. Jezebel up at the farm, she met me one +day, and she says, 'You're a pretty puss, aren't you, howking up my +poor dear deceased husband's remains before they're hardly cold? +Much good you'll do yourself. You'll end in the workhouse, my fine +miss, and I shall come to see you as a lady visitor when you're +dying.' + +I tried to get past her, but she wouldn't let me. 'I wish you joy o' +that Harry, cursed young brute!' says she. 'It serves him right, it +does, to marry a girl out of the gutter!' + +And with that--I couldn't help it--I fetched her a smack on the side +of the face with the flat of my hand as hard as I could, and bolted +off, her after me, and me being young and she stout she couldn't +keep up with me. Gutter, indeed! and my father a respectable +labourer, and known far and wide. + +There were several strangers come the day the coffin was got up. It +was a dreadful thing to me to see them digging, not to make a grave +to be filled up, but to empty one. And there were a lot of people +there I didn't know; and the parson, and another parson, seemingly a +friend of his, and every one as could get near looking on. + +They got the coffin up, and they took it to the room at the Star, at +Alfreston, where inquests are held, and the doctors were there, and +we were all shut out. And Harry and John and I stood on the stairs. +But parson, being a friend of the doctor's, he was let in, him and +his friend. And we heard voices and the squeak of the screws as they +was drawn out; and we heard the coffin lid being laid down, and then +there was a hush, and some one spoke up very sharp inside, and we +couldn't hear what he said for the noise and confusion that came +from every one speaking at once, and nineteen to the dozen it +seemed. + +'What is it?' says Harry, trembling like a leaf: 'O my God! what is +it? If they don't open the door afore long, by God, I shall burst it +open! He was murdered, he was! And if they wait much longer, that +woman will have time to get away.' + +As he spoke, the door opened and parson came out, and his friend +with him. + +'These are the young men,' says our parson. + +'Well, then,' says parson number two, 'it's a good thing I heard of +this, and came down--out of mere curiosity, I am ashamed to say--for +the man who is buried there is not the man whom I united in holy +matrimony to Martha Blake two months ago last Tuesday.' + +We didn't understand. + +'But the poison?' says Harry. + +'She may have poisoned him,' said our parson, 'though I don't think +it. But from what my friend here, the rector of St Mary Woolnoth, +tells me, it is quite certain she never married him.' + +'Then she's no right to anything?' said Harry. + +'But what about the will?' says I. But no one harkened to me. + +And then Harry says, 'If she poisoned him she will be off by now. +Parson, will you come with me to keep my hands from violence, and my +tongue from evil-speaking and slandering? for I must go home and see +if that woman is there yet.' + +And parson said he would; and it ended in us, all five of us, going +up together, the new parson walking by me and talking to me like +somebody out of the Bible, as it might be one of the disciples. + +I got to know him well afterwards, and he was the best man that ever +trod shoe-leather. + +We all went up together to Charleston Farm, and in through the back, +without knocking, and so to the parlour door. We knew she was +sitting in the parlour, because the red firelight fell out through +the window, and made a bright patch that we see before we see the +house itself properly; and we went, as I say, quietly in through the +back; and in the kitchen I said, 'Oh, let me tell her, for what she +said to me.' + +And I was sorry the minute I'd said it, when I see the way that +clergyman from London looked at me; and we all went up to the +parlour door, and Harry opened it as was his right. + +There was Mrs. Blake sitting in front of the fire. She had got on +her widow's mourning, very smart and complete, with black crape, and +her white cap; and she'd got the front of her dress folded back very +neat on her lap, and was toasting her legs, in her black-and-red +checked petticoat, and her feet in cashmere house-boots, very warm +and cosy, on the brass fender; and she had got port wine and sherry +wine in the two decanters that was never out of the glass-fronted +chiffonier when master was alive; and there was something else in a +black bottle; and opposite her, in the best arm-chair that old +master had sat in to the last, was that lawyer, Sigglesfield from +Lewes. And when we all came in, one after another, rather slow, and +bringing the cold air with us, they sat in their chairs as if they +had been struck, and looked at us. + +Harry and John was in front, as was right; and in the dusk they +could hardly see who was behind. + +'And what do you want, young men?' says Mrs. Blake, standing up in +her crape, and her white cap, and looking very handsome, Harry said +afterwards, though, for my part, I never could see it; and, as she +stood up, she caught sight of the clergyman from London, and she +shrank back into her chair and covered her face with her hands; and +the clergyman stepped into the room, none of us having the least +idea of what he was going to say, and said he-- + +'That's the woman that I married on the 7th; and that's the man I +married her to!' said he, pointing to Sigglesfield, who seemed to +turn twice as small, and his ferret eyes no better than button-hole +slits. + +'That!' said our parson; 'why, that's Mr. Sigglesfield, the +solicitor from Lewes.' + +'Then the lady opposite is Mrs. Sigglesfield, that's all,' said the +parson from London. + +'What I want to know,' says Harry, 'is--is this my house or hers? +It's plain she wasn't my father's wife. But yet he left it to her in +the will.' + +'Slowly, old boy!' said John; 'gently does it. How could he have +left anything in a will to his wife when he hadn't got any wife? +Why, that fellow there---' + +But here Mrs. Blake got on her feet, and I must say for the woman, +if she hadn't got anything else she had got pluck. + +'The game's up!' she says. 'It was well played, too, though I says +it. And you, you old fool!' she says to the parson, 'you have often +drunk tea with me, and gone away thinking how well-mannered I was, +and what a nice woman Mrs. Blake was, and how well she knew her +place, after you had chatted over half your parish with me. I know +you are the curiousest man in it, and as you and me is old friends, +I don't mind owning up just to please you. It'll save a lot of time +and a lot of money.' + +'It's my duty to warn you,' said John, 'that anything you say may be +used against you.' + +'Used against a fiddlestick end!' said Mrs. Blake. 'I married Robert +Sigglesfield in the name of William Alderton, and he sitting +trembling there, like a shrimp half boiled! He got ready the kind of +will we wanted instead of the one the old man meant, and gave it to +the old man to sign, and he signed it right enough.' + +'And what about that arsenic,' says I,--'that arsenic I found in +your corner cupboard?' + +'Oh, it was you took it, was it? You little silly, my neck's too +handsome for me to do anything to put a rope round it. Do you +suppose I've kept my complexion to my age with nothing but cold +water, you little cat?' + +'And the other will,' says Harry, 'that my father meant to sign?' + +'I'll get you that,' says Mrs. Blake. 'It's no use bearing malice +now all's said and done.' + +And she goes upstairs to get it, and, if you'll believe me, we were +fools enough to let her go; and we waited like lambs for her to come +back, which being a woman with her wits about her, and no fool, she +naturally never did; and by the time we had woke up to our seven +senses, she was far enough away, and we never saw her again. We +didn't try too much. But we had the law of that Sigglesfield, and it +was fourteen years' penal. + +And the will was never found--I expect Mrs. Blake had burnt it,--so +the farm came to John, and what else there was to Harry, according +to the terms of the will the old man had made when his wife was +alive, afore John had joined the force. And Harry and John was that +pleased to be together again that they couldn't make up their minds +to part; so they farm the place together to this day. + +And if Harry has prospered, and John too, it's no more than they +deserve, and a blessing on brotherly love, as mother says. And if my +dear children are the finest anywhere on the South Downs, that's by +the blessing of God too, I suppose, and it doesn't become me to say +so. + + + + +ACTING FOR THE BEST + + +I HAVE no patience with people who talk that kind of nonsense about +marrying for love and the like. For my part I don't know what they +mean, and I don't believe they know it themselves. It's only a sort +of fashion of talking. I never could see what there was to like in +one young man more than another, only, of course, you might favour +some more than others if they was better to do. + +My cousin Mattie was different. She must set up to be in love, and +walk home from church with Jack Halibut Sunday after Sunday, the +long way round, if you please, through the meadows; and he used to +buy her scent and ribbons at the fair, and send her a big valentine +of lacepaper, and satin ribbons and things, though Lord knows where +he got the money from--honest, I hope--for he hadn't a penny to +bless himself with. + +When my uncle found out all this nonsense, being a man of proper +spirit, he put his foot down, and says he-- + +'Mattie, my girl, I would be the last to say anything against any +young man you fancied, especially a decent chap like young Halibut, +if his prospects was anything like as good as could be expected, but +you can't pretend poor Jack's are, him being but a blacksmith's man, +and not in regular work even. Now, let's have no waterworks,' he +went on, for Mattie had got the corner of her apron up and her mouth +screwed down at the corners. 'I've known what poverty is, my girl, +and you shan't never have a taste of it with my consent.' + +'I don't care how poor I be, father,' said Mattie, 'it's Jack I care +about.' + +'There's a girl all over,' says uncle, for he was a sensible man in +those days. 'The bit I've put by for you, lass, it's enough for one, +but it's not enough for two. And when young Halibut can show as +much, you shall be cried in church the very next Sunday. But, +meantime, there must be no kisses, no more letters, and no more +walking home from churches. Now, you give me your word--and keep it +I know you will--like an honest girl.' + +So Mattie she gave him her word, though much against her will; and +as for Jack, I suppose, man-like, he didn't care much about staying +in the village after there was a stop put to his philandering and +kissing and scent and so on. So what does he do, but he ups and offs +to America (assisted emigration) 'to make his fortune,' says he. + +And never word nor sign did we hear of him for three blessed years. +Mattie was getting quite an old maid, nigh on two-and-twenty, and I +was past nineteen, when one morning there come a letter from Jack. + +My father and mother were dead this long time, so I lived with uncle +and Mattie at the farm. What offers I had had is neither here nor +there. At any rate, whatever they were, they weren't good enough. + +But Mattie might have been married twice over if she had liked, and +to folks that would have been quite a catch to a girl like her +getting on in years. She might have had young Bath for one, the +strawberry grower; and what if he did drink a bit of a Saturday? He +was taking his hundreds of pounds to the Bank every week in canvas +bags, as all the world knew. + +But no, she must needs hanker after Jack, and that's why I say it's +such nonsense. + +Well, when the letter come, I was up to my elbows in the +jam-making--raspberry and currant it was,--and Mattie, she was down +in the garden getting the last berries off the canes. My hands were +stained up above the wrist with the currant juice, so I took the +letter up by the corner of my apron and I went down the garden with +it. + +'Mattie,' I calls out, 'here's a letter from that good-for-nothing +fellow of yours.' + +She couldn't see me, and she thought I was chaffing her about him, +which I often did, to keep things pleasant. + +'Don't tease me, Jane,' she says, 'for I do feel this morning as if +I could hardly bear myself as it is.' + +And as she said it I came out through the canes close to her with +the letter in my hand. But when she see the letter she dropped the +basket with the raspberries in it (they rolled all about on the +ground right under the peony bush, for that was a silly, +old-fashioned garden, with the flowers and fruit about it anyhow), +and I had a nice business picking them up, and she threw her arms +round my neck and kissed me, and cried like the silly little thing +she was, and thanked me for bringing the letter, just as if I had +anything to do with it, or any wish or will one way or another; and +then she opened the letter, and seemed to forget all about me while +she read it. + +I remember the sun was so bright on the white paper that I could +scarce see to read it over her shoulder, she not noticing me, nor +anything else, any more. It was like this-- + +'DEAR MATTIE,--This comes hoping to find you well, as it leaves me +at present. + +'I don't bear no malice over what your father said and done, but I'm +not coming to his house. + +'Now Mattie, if you have forgot me, or think more of some other +chap, don't let anything stand in the way of your letting me know it +straight and plain. But if you do remember how we used to walk from +church, and the valentine, and the piece of poetry about Cupid's +dart that I copied for you out of the poetry-book, you will come and +meet me in the little ash copse, you know where. I may be prevented +coming, for I've a lot of things to see to, and I am going to +Liverpool on Thursday, and if we are to be married you will have to +come to me there, for my business won't bear being left, and I must +get back to it. But if so I will put a note in your prayer-book in +the church. So you had best look in there on your way up on +Wednesday evening. + +'I am taking this way of seeing you because I don't want there to be +any unpleasantness for you if you are tired of me or like some other +chap better. + +'I mean to take a wife back with me, Mattie, for I have done well, +and can afford to keep one in better style than ever your father +kept his. Will you be her, dear? So no more at present from your +affectionate friend and lover, + +JACK HALIBUT.' + +I am quicker at reading writing than Mattie, and I had finished the +letter and was picking up the raspberries before she come to the +end, where his name was signed with all the little crosses round it. + +'Well?' says I, as she folded it up and unbuttoned two buttons of +her dress to push it inside. 'Well,' says I, 'what's the best news?' + +'He's come home again,' she says. And I give you my word she did +look like a rose as she said it. 'He's come home again, Jane, and +it's all right, and he likes me just as much as ever he did, God +bless him.' + +Not a word, you see, about his having made his fortune, which I +might never have known if I hadn't read the letter which I did, +acting for the best. Not that I think it was deceitfulness in the +girl, but a sort of fondness that always kept her from noticing +really important things. + +'And does he ask you to have him?' says I. + +'Of course he does,' she says; 'I never thought any different. I +never thought but what he would come back for me, just as he said he +would--just as he has.' + +By that I knew well enough that she had often had her doubts. + +'Oh, well!' says I, 'all's well that ends well. + +I hope he's made enough to satisfy uncle--that's all.' + +'Oh yes, I think so,' says Mattie, hardly understanding what I was +saying. 'I didn't notice particular. But I suppose that's all +right.' + +She didn't notice particular! Now, I put it to you, Was that the +sort of girl to be the wife of a man who had got on like Jack had? I +for one didn't think so. If she didn't care for money why should she +have it, when there was plenty that did? And if love in a cottage +was what she wanted, and kisses and foolishness out of poetry-books, +I suppose one man's pretty much as good as another for that sort of +thing. + +So I said, 'Come along in, dear, and we will get along with the +jam-making, and talk it all over nicely. I'm so glad he's come back. +I always say he would, if you remember.' + +Not that I ever had, but she didn't seem to know any different, +anyhow. + +The next few days Mattie was like a different girl. I will say for +her that she always did her fair share of the work, but she did it +with a face as long as a fiddle. Only now her face was all round and +dimply, and like a child's that has got a prize at school. + +On Wednesday afternoon she said to me, 'I'm going to meet Jack, and +don't you say a word to the others about it, Jane. I'll tell father +myself when I come back, if you'll get the tea like a good girl, and +just tell them I've gone up to the village.' + +'I don't tell lies as a rule, especially for other people,' I says; +'but I don't mind doing it for you this once.' + +And she kissed me (she had got mighty fond of kissing these last few +days), and ran upstairs to get ready. When she come down, if you'll +believe me, she wasn't in her best dress as any other girl would +have been, but she had gone and put on a dowdy old green and white +delaine that had been her Sunday dress, trimmed with green satin +piping, three years before, and the old hat she had with all the +flowers faded and the ribbons crumpled up, that was three year old +too, and the very one she used to walk home from church with him on +Sundays in. And her with a really good blue poplin laid by and a new +bonnet with red roses in it, only come home the week before from +Maidstone. + +She come through the kitchen where I was setting the tea, and she +took the key of the church off the nail in the wall. Our farm was +full a mile from the village, and half way between it and the +church. So we kept one key, and Jack's uncle, who was the sexton, he +had the other. + +'What time was you to meet Jack?' I says. + +'He didn't say,' said she; 'but it used to be half-past six.' + +'You're full early,' says I. + +'Yes,' she says, 'but I've got to take the butter down to Weller's, +and to call in for something first.' + +And, of course, I knew that she meant that she had to call in for +that note at the church. + +Minute she was out of the way, I runs into the kitchen, and says to +our maid-- + +'Poor Mrs. Tibson's not so well, Polly. I'm going over to see her. +Give the men their tea, will you? there's a good girl.' + +And she said she would. And in ten minutes I was dressed, and nicely +dressed too, for I had on my white frock and the things I had had at +a girl's wedding the summer before, and a pair of new gloves I had +got out of my butter-money. + +Then I went off up the hill to the church after Mattie, even then +not making up my mind what I was going to do, but with an idea that +all things somehow might work together for good to me if I only had +the sense to see how, and turn things that way. + +As I come up to the church I was just in time to see her old green +gown going in at the porch, and when I come up the key was in the +door, and she hadn't come out. Quick as thought, the idea come to me +to have a joke with her and lock her in, so she shouldn't meet him, +and next minute I had turned the key in the lock softly, and stole +off through the church porch, and up to the ash copse, which I +couldn't make a mistake about, for there's only one within a mile of +the church. + +Jack was there, though it was before the time. I could see his blue +tie and white shirt-front shining through the trees. + +When I locked her in I only meant to have a sort of joke--at least, +I think so,--but when I come close up to him and saw how well off he +looked, and the diamond ring on his fingers, and his pin and his +gold chain, I thought to myself-- + +'Well, you go to Liverpool to-morrow, young man! And she ain't got +your address, and, likely as not, if you go away vexed with her, you +won't leave it with your aunt, and one wife is as good as another, +if not better, and as for her caring for you, that's all affectation +and silliness--so here goes.' + +He stepped forward, with his hands held out to me, but when he saw +it was me he stopped short. + +'Why, Miss Jane,' he said, 'I beg your pardon. I was expecting quite +a different person.' + +'Yes, I know,' I says, 'you was expecting my cousin Mattie.' + +'And isn't she coming?' he asks very quick, looking at me full, with +his blue eyes. + +'I hope you won't take it hard, Mr. Halibut,' says I, 'but she said +she'd rather not come.' + +'Confound it!' says he. + +'You see,' I went on, 'it's a long time since you was at home, and +you not writing or anything, and some girls are very flighty and +changeable; and she told me to tell you she was sorry if you were +mistaken in her feelings about you, and she's had time to think +things over since three years ago; and now you're so well off, she +says she's sure you'll find no difficulty in getting a girl suited +to your mind.' + +'Did she say that?' he said, looking at me very straight. 'It's not +like her.' + +'I don't mean she said so in those words, or that she told me to +tell you so; but that's what I made out to be her mind from what she +said between us two like.' + +'But what message did she send to me? For I suppose she sent you to +meet me to-day.' + +Then I saw that I should have to be very careful. So to get a little +time I says, 'I don't quite like to tell you, Mr. Halibut, what she +said.' + +'Out with it,' says he. 'Don't be a fool, girl!' + +'Well, then,' I says, 'if it must be so, her words were these: "Tell +Jack," she says, "that I shall ever wish him well for the sake of +what's past, but all's over betwixt him and me, and--"' + +'And what,' says he. + +'There wasn't much besides,' says I. + +'Good God, don't be such an idiot!' and he looked as if he could +have shaken me. + +'Well, then, if you must have it,' says I, 'she says, "Tell Jack +there's at least one girl I know of as would make him a better wife +than I should, and has been thinking of him steady and faithful +these three years, while I've been giving my mind to far other +things."' + +'Confound her!' says he, 'little witch. And who is this other girl +that she's so gracious to hand me over to?' + +'I don't want to say no more,' says I. 'I'm going now, Mr. Halibut. +Good-bye.' + +For well I knew he wouldn't let me go at that. + +'Tell me who it is,' says he. 'What! she's not content with giving +me the mitten herself, but she must insult me and this poor girl +too, who's got more sense than she has. Good Heavens, it would serve +her right if I took her at her word, and took the other girl back +with me.' + +He was walking up and down with his hands in his pockets, frowning +like a July thunderstorm. + +'Wicked, heartless little--but there, thank God! all women aren't +like her. Who's this girl that she's tried to set me against?' + +'I can't tell you,' says I. + +'Oh! can't you, my girl? But you shall.' + +And he catches hold of both my wrists in his hands. + +'Leave me go!' I cried, 'you're hurting me.' + +'Who is it?' + +I was looking down my nose very straight, but when he said that, I +just lifted my eyes up and looked at him, and dropped them. + +I've always practised looking like what I meant, or what I wanted +people to think I meant--sort of matching your looks and words, like +you match ribbon and a bit of stuff. + +'So you're the girl, are you?' he cries. 'And she thought to put you +to shame before me with her messages? Look here, I'm well off. I'm +going to Liverpool to-night, and back to America next week. I want +to take a wife with me, and she says you have thought of me while +I've been away. Will you marry me, Jane?' + +I just looked at him again, and he put his arm round me and gave me +a good kiss. I had to put up with it, though I never could see any +sense in that sort of stuff. Then we walked home together, very +slow, his arm round me. + +I daresay some people will think I oughtn't to have acted so, taking +away another girl's fellow. But I was quite sure she would get +plenty that would play love in a cottage with her, and she did not +seem to appreciate her blessings in getting a man that was well off, +and I didn't see how it could be found out, as he was going away +next day. + +Now, it would all have gone as well as well if I had had the sense +to offer to see him off at the station, and I ought to have had the +sense to see him well out of the place. But we all make mistakes +sometimes. Mine was in saying 'Good-bye' to him at the corner of the +four-acre and going home by myself, leaving him with three-quarters +of an hour for 'Satan to find some mischief still for idle hands to +do' in. + +I said 'Good-bye' to him, and he kissed me, and gave me the address +where to write, and told me what to do. + +'For I shan't have no truck with your uncle,' says he. 'I marries my +wife, and I takes her right away.' + +It wasn't till I was going up the stairs, untying my bonnet-strings +as I went, and smoothing out the ribbons with my finger and thumb, +for it was my best, that it come to me all in a minute that I had +left Mattie locked up in that church. It was very tiresome, and how +to get her out I didn't know. But I thought maybe she would be +trying some of the other doors, and I might turn the key gently and +away again before she could find out it was unlocked. + +So up to the church I went, very hot, and a setting sun, and having +had no tea or anything, and as I began to climb the hill my heart +stood still in my veins, for I heard a sound from the church as I +never expected to hear at that time of the day and week. + +'O Lord!' I thought, 'she's tried every other way, and now she's +ringing the bell, and she'll fetch up the whole village, and what +will become of me?' + +I made the best haste I could, but I could see more than one black +dot moving up the hill before me that showed me folks on their way +home had heard the bell and was going to see what it meant. And when +I got up there they were trying the big door of the church, not +knowing it was the little side one where the key was, and Jack, he +come up almost the same moment I did, and I knew well enough he had +come to get that note out of her prayer-book for fear some one else +should see it. + +'Here, I've got the key in my pocket,' says he, and with that he +opened the door, the bell clang, clang, clanging from the tower all +the time like as if the bellringer was drunk and had got a wager on +to get more beats out of the bell in half an hour than the next man. + +Whoever it was that was ringing the bell--and I could give a pretty +good guess who it was--didn't seem to hear us coming, and they went +up the aisle and pulled back the red baize curtain that hides the +bottom of the tower where the ringers stand on Sundays, and there +was Mattie with her old green gown on, and her hair all loose and +down her back with the hard work of bellringing, I suppose, and her +face as white as the bald-faced stag as is painted on the sign down +at the inn in the village. And directly she saw Jack, I knew it was +all over, for she let go the rope and it swung up like a live thing +over our heads, and she made two steps to Jack and had him round the +neck before them all. + +'O Jack!' she cried, 'don't look like that. + +I came to fetch your letter, and somebody locked me in.' + +Jack, he turned to me, and his face was so that I should have been +afraid to have been along of him in a lonely place. + +'This is your doings,' says he, 'and all that pack of lies you told +me was out of your own wicked head.' + +He had got his arm round her, and was holding on as if she was +something worth having, instead of a silly girl in a frock three +year old. + +'I don't know what you mean, I'm sure,' I said; 'it was only a +joke.' + +'A joke!' says he. 'Lies, I call it, and I know they're lies by the +very touch of her in my arm here.' + +'Oh, well!' I said, 'if you can't take joking better than this, it's +the last time I'll ever try joking with you.' + +And I walked out of the church, and the other folks who had run up +to see what was the matter come out with me. And they two was left +alone. + +I suppose it was only human nature that, as I come round the church, +I should get on the top of a tombstone and look in to see what they +was doing. It was the little window where a pane was broken by a +stone last summer, and so I heard what they was saying. He was +trying to tell her what I had told him--quite as much for her own +good as for mine, as you have seen; but she didn't seem to want to +listen. + +'Oh, never mind all that now, Jack,' she says, with arms round his +neck. 'What does it matter about a silly joke now that I have got +you, and it's all right betwixt us?' + +I thought it my duty to go straight home and tell uncle she was up +in the church, kissing and cuddling with Jack Halibut; and he took +his stick and started off after her. + +But he met them at the garden gate, and Jack, he came forward, and +he says-- + +'Mr. Kenworthy, I have had hard thoughts of you this three year, but +I see you was right, for if I had never gone away, I should never +have been able to keep my little girl as she should be kept, and as +I can now, thanks be! and I should never have known how dear she has +loved me this three year.' + +And uncle, like the soft-hearted old thing he is, he holds out his +hands, and he says, 'God bless you, my boy, it was for your own good +and hers.' + +And they went in to supper. + +As for me, I went to bed. I had had all the supper I wanted. And +uncle has never been the same to me since, though I'm sure I tried +to act for the best. + + + + +GUILTY + + +IT was my first place and my last, and I don't think we should have +got on in business as we have if it hadn't been for me being for six +or seven years with one of the first families in the county. Though +only a housemaid, you can't help learning something of their ways. +At any rate, you learn what gentlefolks like, and what they can't +abide. But the worst of being housemaid where there's a lot of +servants kept is, that one or other or all of the men-servants is +sure to be wanting to keep company with you. They have nothing else +to do in their spare time, and I suppose it's handy having your +sweetheart living in the house. It doesn't give you so much trouble +with going out in the evening, if not fine. + +The coachman was promised to the cook, which, I believe, often takes +place. Tim, the head groom, was a very nice, genteel fellow, and I +daresay I might have taken up with him, if I hadn't met with my +James, though never with John, who was the plague of my life. To +begin with, he had a black whisker, that I couldn't bear to look at, +let alone putting one's face against it, as I should have had to +have done when married, no doubt. And he had a roving black eye, +very yellowy in the white of it, and hair that looked all black and +bear's-greasy, though he always said he never put anything on it +except a little bay rum in moderation. + +They tell me I was a pretty girl enough in those days, though looks +is less important than you might think to a housemaid, if only she +dresses neat and has a small waist. And I suppose I must think that +John really did love me in his scowling, black whiskery way. He was +a good footman, I will say that, and had been with the master three +years, and the best of characters; but whatever he might have +thought, I never would have had anything to do with him, even if +James and me had had seas between us broad a-rolling for ever and +ever Amen. He asked me once and he asked me twice, and it was 'no' +and 'no' again. And I had even gone so far as to think that perhaps +I should have to give up a good place to get out of his way, when +master's uncle, old Mr. Oliver, and his good lady, came to stay at +the Court, and with them came James, who was own man to Mr. Oliver. + +Mr. Oliver was the funniest-looking old gent I ever see, if I may +say so respectfully. He was as bald as an egg, with a sort of frill +of brown hair going from ear to ear behind; and as if that wasn't +enough, he was shaved as clean as a whistle, as though he had made +up his mind that people shouldn't say that it had all gone to beard +and whiskers, anyway. He wrote books, a great many of them, and you +may often see his name in the papers, and he was for ever poking +about into what didn't concern him, and my Lady, she said to me when +she found me a little put out at him asking about how things went on +in the servants' hall, she said to me-- + +'You mustn't mind him, Mary,' she said; 'you know he likes to find +out all that he can about everything, so as to put it in his books.' + +And he certainly talked to every one he came across--even the +stable-boys--in a way that you could hardly think becoming from a +gentleman to servants, if he wasn't an author, and so to have +allowances made for him, poor man! He talked to the housemaids, and +he talked to the groom, and he talked to the footman that waited on +him at lunch when he had it late, as he did sometimes, owing to him +having been kept past the proper time by his story-writing, for he +wrote a good part of the day most days, and often went up to London +while he was staying with us--to sell his goods, I suppose. He wore +curious clothes, not like most gentlemen, but all wool things, even +to his collars and his boots, which were soft and soppy like felt; +and he took snuff to that degree I wouldn't have believed any human +nose could have borne it, and he must have been a great trial to +Mrs. Oliver until she got used to him and his pottering about all +over the house in his soft-soled shoes; and the mess he made of his +pocket-handkerchieves and his linen! + +Mrs. Oliver was a round little fat bunch of a woman, if I may say so +in speaking of master's own aunt by marriage, and him a baronet. She +had the most lovely jewellery, and was very fond of wearing it of an +evening, more than most people do when they are staying with +relations and there's no company. She never spoke much except to +say, 'Yes, Dick dear,' and 'No, Dick dear,' when they spoke to each +other; but they were as fond of each other as pigeons on a roof, and +always very pleasant-spoken and nice to wait on. + +As for James, he was the jolliest man I ever met, and cook said the +same. He was like Sam Weller in the book, or would have been if he +had lived in those far-off times; but footmen are more genteel now +than they were then. + +Anyway, he hadn't been at the Court twenty-four hours before he was +first favourite with every one, and cook made him a Welsh rabbit +with her own hands, 'cause he hadn't been able to get his dinner +comfortable with the rest of us--a thing she wouldn't have done for +Sir William himself at that time of night. As for me, the first time +he looked at me with his jolly blue eyes--it was when he met me +carrying a tray the first morning after he came--my heart gave a +jump inside my print gown, and I said to it as I went downstairs-- + +'You've met your master, I'm thinking'; and if I did go to church +with him the very first Sunday, which was more than ever I had done +with any of the others, it was after he had asked me plain and +straight to go to church with him some day for good and all. + +Now, the next morning, quite early, I was dusting the library, when +John come in with his black face like a thundercloud. + +'Look here, Mary,' he says; 'what do you mean by going to church +with that stuck-up London trumpery?' + +'Mind your own business,' says I, sharp as you please. + +'I am,' he says. 'You are my business--the only business I care a +damn about, or am ever likely to. You don't know how I love you, +Mary,' he says. And I was sorry for him as he spoke. 'I would lie +down in the dirt for you to walk on if it would do you any good, so +long as you didn't walk over me to get to some other chap.' + +'I am very sorry for you, John,' says I, 'but I've told you, not +once or twice, but fifty times, that it can never be. And there are +plenty of other girls that would be only too glad to walk out with a +young man like you without your troubling yourself about me.' + +He was walking up and down the room like a cat in a cage. Presently +he began to laugh in a nasty, sly, disagreeable way. + +'Oh! you think he'll marry you, do you?' says he. 'But he's just +amusing himself with you till he gets back to London to his own +girl. You let him see you was only amusing yourself with him, and +you come out with me when you get your evening.' + +And he took the dusting-brush out of my hand, and caught hold of my +wrists. + +'It's all a lie!' I cried; 'and I wonder you can look me in the face +and tell it. Him and me are going to be married as soon as he has +saved enough for a little public, and I never want to speak to you +again; and if you don't let go of my hands, I'll scream till I fetch +the house down, master and all, and then where will you be?' + +He scowled at that, but he let my hands go directly. + +'Have it your own way,' he said. 'But I tell you, you won't marry +him, and you'll find he won't want to marry you, and you'll marry +me, my girl. And when you have married me, you shall cry your eyes +out for every word you have said now.' + +'Oh, shall I, Mr. Liar?' says I, for my blood was up; 'before that +happens, you'll have to change him into a liar and me into a fool +and yourself into an honest man, and you'll find that the hardest of +all.' And with that I threw the dusting-brush at him--which was a +piece of wicked temper I oughtn't to have given way to--and ran out +of the door, and I heard him cursing to himself something fearful as +I went down the passage. + +'Good thing the gentlefolks are abed still,' I said to myself; and I +didn't tell a soul about it, even cook, the truth being I was +ashamed to. + +Well, everything went on pretty much the same as usual for two or +three weeks, and I thought John was getting the better of his +silliness, because he made a show of being friendly to James and was +respectful to me, even when we was alone. Then came that dreadful +day that I shall never forget if I live to be a hundred years old. +Dinner was half an hour later than usual on account of Mr. Oliver +having gone up to town on his business; but he didn't get home when +expected, and they sat down without him after all. I was about my +work, turning down beds and so forth, and I had done Mrs. Oliver's +about ten minutes, and was in my lady's room, when Mrs. Oliver's own +maid came running in with a face like paper. + +'Oh, what ever shall I do?' she cried, wringing her hands, as they +say in books, and I always thought it nonsense, but she certainly +did, though I never saw any one do it before or since. + +'What is it?' I asked her. + +'It's my mistress's diamond necklace,' she said. 'She was going to +wear it to-night. And then she said, No, she wouldn't; she'd have +the emeralds, and I left it on the dressing-table instead of locking +it up, and now it's gone!' + +I went into Mrs. Oliver's room with her, and there was the jewel-box +with the pretty shining things turned out on the dressing-table, for +Mrs. Oliver had a heap of jewellery that had come to her from her +own people, and she as fond of wearing it as if she was slim and +twenty, instead of being fifty, and as round as an orange. We looked +on the dressing-table and we looked on the floor, and we looked in +the curtains to see if it had got in any of them. But look high, +look low, no diamond necklace could we find. So at last Scott--that +was Mrs. Oliver's maid--said there was nothing for it but to go and +tell her mistress. The ladies were in the drawing-room by this time. +So she went down all of a tremble, and in the hall there was Mrs. +Oliver looking anxious out of the front door, which was open, it +being summer and the house standing in its own park. + +'Mr. Oliver is very late, Scott,' she says. 'I am getting anxious +about him.' + +And as she spoke, and before Scott could answer, there was his step +on the gravel, and he came in at the front door with his little +black bag in his hand that I suppose he carried his stories in to +see if people would like to buy them. + +'Hullo! Scott,' he says, 'have you seen a ghost?' And, indeed, she +looked more dead than alive. She gulped in her throat, but she could +not speak. + +'Here, young woman,' says Mr. Oliver to me, 'you haven't lost your +head altogether. What's it all about?' + +So I told him as well as I could, and by this time master had come +out and my Lady, and you never saw any one so upset as they were. +All the house was turned out of window, hunting for the necklace; +though, of course, not having legs, it couldn't have walked by +itself out of Mrs. Oliver's room. All the servants was called up, +even to the kitchen-maid; and those who were not angry, were +frightened, and, what with fright and anger, there wasn't one of us, +I do believe, as didn't look as they had got the necklace on under +their clothes that very minute. John was very angry indeed. 'Do they +think we'd take their dirty necklace?' he said, as we were going up. +'It's enough to ruin all of us, this kind of thing happening, and +leaving the doors open so that any one could get in and walk clear +off with it without a stain on their character, and us left with +none to speak of.' + +So when master had asked us all a lot of questions, and we were told +we could go, John stepped out and said-- + +'I am sure I am only expressing the feelings of my fellow-servants +when I say that we should wish our boxes searched and our rooms, so +that there shall be no chance for any one to say afterwards that it +lays at any of our doors.' + +And Mrs. Oliver began to cry, and she said 'No, no, she wouldn't put +that insult on any one.' But Mr. Oliver, who hadn't been saying +much, though so talkative generally, but kept taking snuff at a rate +that was dreadful to see, he said-- + +'The young man is quite right, my dear; and if you don't mind,' he +says to master, 'I think it had better be done.' + +And so it was done, and I don't know how to write about it now, +though it was never true. They came to my room and they looked into +all my drawers and boxes except my little hat-tin, and when they +wanted the key of that, I said, silly-like, not having any idea that +they could think that I could do such a thing, 'I'd rather you +didn't look into that. It's only some things I don't want any one to +see.' + +And the reason was that I'd got some bits of things in it that I'd +got the week before in the town towards getting my things for the +wedding ready, and I felt somehow I didn't want any one to see them +till James did. And they all looked very queer at me when I said +that, and my Lady said-- + +'Mary, give me the key at once.' + +So I did, and oh! I shall never forget it. They took out the +flannel, and the longcloth and things, and the roll of embroidery +that I was going to trim them with, and rolled inside that, if +you'll believe me, there was the necklace like a shining snake +coiled up. I never said a word, being struck silly. I didn't cry or +even say anything as people do in books when these things happen to +them; but Mrs. Oliver burst out crying, God bless her for it! and my +Lady said, 'O Mary, I'd never have believed it of you any more than +I would of myself!' + +And Mr. Oliver he said to master, 'Have all the servants into the +library, William. Perhaps some one else is in it too.' + +But nobody said a word to say that it wasn't me, and indeed how +could they? + +I should think it's like being had up for murder, standing there in +the library with all the servants holding off from me as if I had +got something catching, and master and my Lady and Mr. and Mrs. +Oliver in leather armchairs, all of a row, looking like a bench of +magistrates. I could not think, though I tried hard--I could only +feel as if I was drowning and fighting for breath. + +'Now, Mary,' says Master, 'what have you got to say?' + +'I never touched it, sir,' I said; 'I never put it there; I don't +know who did; and may God forgive them, for I never could.' + +Then my Lady said, 'Mary, I can hardly believe it of you even now, +but why wouldn't you let us have the key of your box?' + +Then I turned hot and cold all of a minute, and I looked round, and +there wasn't a face that looked kind at me except Mr. Oliver's, and +he nodded at me, taking snuff all over his fat white waistcoat. + +'Speak up, girl,' he said, 'speak up.' + +So then I said, 'I'm a-going to be married, my Lady, and it was bits +of things I'd got towards my wedding clothes.' + +I looked at James to see if he believed it, and his face was like +lead, and his eyes wild that used to be so jolly, and to see him +look like that made my heart stand still, and I cried out-- + +'O my God, strike me down dead, for live I can't after this!' + +And at that, James spoke up, and he said, speaking very quick and +steady, 'I wish to confess that I took it, and I put it in her box, +thinking to take it away again after. We were to have been married, +and I wanted the money to start in a little pub.' + +And everybody stood still, and you could have heard a pin drop, and +Mr. Oliver went on nodding his head and taking snuff till I could +have killed him for it; and I looked at James, and I could have +fallen at his feet and worshipped him, for I saw in a minute why he +said it. He believed it was me, and he wanted to save me. So then I +said to master-- + +'The thing was found in my box, sir, and I'll take the consequences +if I have to be hanged for it. But don't you believe a word James +says. He never touched it. It wasn't him.' + +'How do you know it wasn't him,' says master very sharp. 'If you +didn't take it, how do you know who did?' + +'How do I know?' I cried, forgetting for a moment who I was speaking +to. 'Why, if you'd half a grain of sense among the lot of you, you'd +know why I know it's not him. If you felt to a young man like I feel +to James, you'd know in your heart that he could not have done such +a thing, not if there was fifty diamond necklaces found in fifty +pockets on him at the same time.' + +They said nothing, but Mr. Oliver chuckled in his collar till I'd +have liked to strangle him with my two hands round his fat throat. +And I went on-- + +'I'm as sure he didn't do it as I am that I didn't do it myself, and +as he would have been that I didn't if he had really loved me, as he +said, instead of believing that I could do such a thing, and trying +to save me with a black lie--God bless him for it.' + +And James he never looked at me, but he said again, 'Don't mind +her--she's off her head with fright about me. You send me off to +prison as soon as you like, sir.' + +And still none of the others spoke, but Mr. Oliver leaned back in +his chair, and he clapped his hands softly as though he was at a +play. 'Bravo!' he says, 'bravo!' + +And the others looked at him as if they thought he had gone out of +his mind. + +'It's a very pretty drama, very nicely played, but now it's time to +put an end to it. Do you want to see the villain?' he says to +master, and master never answering him, only staring, he turned +quite sharp and sudden and pointed to John as he stood near the door +with his black eyes burning like coals. 'You took it,' said Mr. +Oliver, 'and you put it in Mary's box. Oh! you needn't start. I know +it's true without that.' + +John had started, but he pulled himself together in a minute. The +man had pluck, I will say that. He spoke quite firm and respectful. +'And why should I have done that, sir, if you please, when all the +house knows that I have been courting Mary fair and honest this two +year?' + +Mr. Oliver tapped his snuff-box and grinned all over his big smooth +face. 'When you do your courting fair and honest, young man, you +should be careful not to do it in the library with the window open. +I was in the verandah, and I heard you threaten that she should +never marry James, and that she should marry you; and that you would +be revenged on her for her bad taste in preferring him to you.' + +John drew a deep breath. 'That's nothing, sir, is it?' he says to +master. 'Every one in the house knows I have been sorry for a hasty +word, and have been the best friends with both of them for these +three weeks.' + +Mr. Oliver got up and put his snuff-box on the table, and his hands +in his trouser pockets. 'You can send for the police, William,' he +said to master, 'because as a matter of fact, I saw the +black-whiskered gentleman with the necklace in his hand. I did get +home late to-night, but not so late as you thought, and I came in +through the open door and was up in my dressing-room when that +scoundrel sneaked into my wife's room and took the necklace to ruin +an innocent girl with. What a thorough scoundrel you are, though, +aren't you?' he said to John. + +Then John, he shrugged his shoulders as much as to say, 'It's all up +now,' and he said to Mr. Oliver very politely, 'You are always fond +of poking your nose into other people's business, sir, and I daresay +you'd like to know why I did it. Oh yes. You know everything, you +do,' says John, growing very white, and speaking angry and quick, +'with your writing, and your snuff, and your gossiping with the +servants, which no gentleman would do, and your nasty, sneaking, +Jaeger-felt boots, and your silly old tub of a wife. I knew that +smooth-spoken man of yours would believe anything against her, and I +knew he would never marry her after a set-out like this, and I knew +I should get her when she found I stuck to her through it all, as I +should have done, and as I would have done too, if she had taken +fifty diamond necklaces.' + +'Send for the police,' said master, but nobody moved. For Mrs. +Oliver, who had been crying like a waterworks ever since we came +down into the library, said quite sudden, 'O Dick dear! let him go. +Don't prosecute him. See, he's lost everything, and he's lost her, +and he must have been mad with love for her or he wouldn't have done +such a thing.' + +Now, wasn't that a true lady to speak up like that for him after +what he'd said of her? Mr. Oliver looked surprised at her speaking +up like that, her that hardly ever said a word except 'Yes, Dick +dear,' and 'No, Dick dear,' and then he shrugs his shoulders and he +says, 'You are right, my dear, he's punished enough.' + +And John turned to go like a dog that has been whipped; but at the +door he faced round, and he said to Mrs. Oliver, 'You're a good +woman, and I'm sorry I said what I did about you. But for the other +I'm not sorry, not if it was my last word.' + +And with that he went out of the room, and out of the house through +the front door. He had no relations and he had no friends, and I +suppose he had nowhere to go with his character gone, and so it +happened that was truly his last word as far as any one knows. For +he was found next morning on the level-crossing after the down +express had passed. + +You never saw such a fuss as every one made of me and James +afterwards. I might have been a queen and him a king. But when it +was all over it stuck in my mind that he oughtn't to have doubted +me, and so I wouldn't name the day for over a year, though Mrs. +Oliver had bought him a nice little hotel and given it to him +herself; but when the year was up, Mr. and Mrs. Oliver came down to +stay again, and seeing them brought it all back, and his having +tried to save me as he had seemed more than his having doubted me. +And so I married him, and I don't think any one ever made a better +match. James says he made a better match, and if I don't agree with +him, it's only right and proper that he should think so, and I thank +God that he does every hour of my life. + + + + +SON AND HEIR + + +SIR JASPER was always the best of masters to me and to all of us; +and he had that kind of way with him, masterful and gentle at the +same time, like as if he was kind to you for his own pleasure, and +ordering you about for your own good, that I believe any of us would +have cut our hand off at the wrist if he had told us to. + +Lady Breynton had been dead this many a year. She hadn't come to her +husband with her hands empty. They say that Sir Jasper had been very +wild in his youth, and that my Lady's money had come in very handy +to pull the old place together again. She worshipped the ground Sir +Jasper walked on, as most women did that he ever said a kind word +to. But it never seemed to me that he took to her as much as you +might have expected a warm-hearted gentleman like him to do. But he +took to her baby wonderful. I was nurse to that baby from the first, +and a fine handsome little chap he was, and when my Lady died he was +wholly given over to my care. And I loved the child; indeed, I did +love him, and should have loved him to the end but for one thing, +and that comes in its own place in my story. But even those who +loved young Jasper best couldn't help seeing he hadn't his father's +winning ways. And when he grew up to man's estate, he was as wild as +his father had been before him. But his wild ways were the ways that +make young men enemies, not friends, and out of all that came to the +house, for the hunting, or the shooting, or what not, I used to +think there wasn't one would have held out a hand to my young master +if he had been in want of it. And yet I loved him because I had +brought him up, and I never had a child of my own. I never wished to +be married, but I used to wish that little Jasper had been my own +child. I could have had an authority over him then that I hadn't as +his nurse, and perhaps it might have all turned out differently. + +There were many tales about Sir Jasper, but I didn't think it was my +place to listen to them. + +Only, when it's your own eyes, it's different, and I couldn't help +seeing how like young Robert, the under-gamekeeper, was to the +Family. He had their black, curly hair, and merry Irish eyes, and +he, if you please, had just Sir Jasper's winning ways. + +Why he was taken on as gamekeeper no one could make out, for when he +first came up to the Hall to ask the master for a job, they tell me +he knew no more of gamekeeping than I do of Latin. Young Robert was +a steady chap, and used to read and write of an evening instead of +spending a jolly hour or two at the Dove and Branch, as most young +fellows do, and as, indeed, my young master did too often. And Sir +Jasper, he gave him books without end and good advice, and would +have him so often about him he set everybody's tongue wagging to a +tune more merry than wise. And young Robert loved the master, of +course. Who didn't? + +Well, there came a day when the Lord above saw fit to put out the +sunshine like as if it had been a bedroom candle; for Sir Jasper, he +was brought back from the hunting-field with his back broke. + +I always take a pleasure in remembering that I was with him to the +last, and did everything that could be done for him with my own +hands. He lingered two days, and then he died. + +It was the hour before the dawn, when there is always a wind, no +matter how still the night, a chilly wind that seems to find out the +marrow of your bones, and if you are nursing sick folk, you bank up +the fire high and watch them extra careful till the sun gets up. + +Sir Jasper opened his eyes and looked at me--oh! so kindly. It +brings tears into my eyes when I think of it. 'Nelly,' he says, 'I +know I can trust you.' + +And I said, 'Yes, sir.' And so he could, whatever it might have +been. What happened afterwards wasn't my fault, and couldn't have +been guarded against. + +'Then go,' he said, 'to my old secretaire and open it.' + +And I did. There was rows of pigeon-holes inside, and little drawers +with brass knobs. + +'You take hold of the third knob from the right, Nelly,' said he. +'Don't pull it; give it a twist round.' I did, and lo and behold! a +little drawer jumped out at me from quite another part of the +secretaire. + +'You see what's in it, Nelly?' says he. + +It was a green leather case tied round with a bit of faded ribbon. + +'Now, what I want you to do,' he says, 'is to lay that beside me +when it's all over. I have always had my doubts about the dead +sleeping so quiet as some folks say. But I think I shall sleep if +you lay that beside me, for I am very tired, Nelly,' he said, 'very +tired.' + +Then I went back to his bed, where he lay looking quite calm and +comfortable. + +'The end has come very suddenly,' says he; 'but it is best this +way.' + +Then we was both quiet a bit. + +'I may be wrong,' he went on presently, his face quite straight, but +a laugh in his blue eye. 'I may be wrong, Nelly, but I think you +would like to kiss me before I die--I know well enough you'll do it +after.' + +And when he said that, I was glad I had never kissed another man. +And soon after that, it being the coldest hour of all the night, he +moved his head on his pillow and said-- + +'I'm off now, Nelly, but you needn't wake the doctors. It's very +dark outside. Hand me out, my girl, hand me out.' So I gave him my +hand, and he died holding it. Whether I grieved much or little over +my old master is no one's business but my own. I went about the +house, and I did my duty--ever since Master Jasper had been grown up +I had been housekeeper. I did my duty, I say, and before the coffin +lid was screwed down I laid that green leather case under the shroud +by my master's side; and just as I had done it I turned round +feeling that some one was in the room, and there stood young Master +Jasper at the door looking at me. + +'All's ready now,' I said to the undertaker's men, and called them +in, and young Master Jasper, he followed me along the passage. 'What +were you doing?' + +'I was putting something in the master's coffin he told me to put +there.' + +'What was it?' he asked, very sharp and sudden. + +'How should I know?' says I. 'It's in a case. It may be some old +letter or a lock of hair as belonged to your mother.' + +'Come into my room,' he said, and I followed him in. He looked very +pale and anxious, and when he'd shut the door he spoke-- + +'Look here, Nelly, I'm going to trust you. My father was very angry +with me about some little follies of mine, and he told me the other +night he had left a good slice of the estate away from me. Do you +think that packet you put in the coffin had anything to do with it?' + +'Good Lord, bless your soul, sir, no,' I said. 'That was no will or +lawyer's letters, it was but some little token of remembrance he set +store by.' + +'Thanks, Nelly, that was all I wanted to know.' + +No one ever knows who tells these things, but it had leaked out +somehow that that slice of the estate was to belong to young Robert +the gamekeeper, and you may be sure the tongues went wagging above a +bit. But it seemed to me, if it was so, my master was right to make +a proper provision for Robert as well as for Jasper. However, nobody +could be sure of anything until after the funeral. + +The doctor was staying in the house, and master's younger brother, +besides the lawyer and young Master Jasper; so I had many things to +see to, and ought to have been tired enough to get to sleep easy the +night before he was buried. But somehow I couldn't sleep. I couldn't +help thinking of my master as I had known him all these years. Him +being always so gentle and so kind, and so light-hearted, it didn't +seem likely he could have had young Robert on his conscience all the +time; and yet what was I to think? And then my poor Jasper--I say +'poor,' but I never loved and pitied him less than I did that night. +He had lost such a father, and he could go troubling about whether +he had got the whole estate or not. So I lay awake, and I thought of +the coffin lying between its burning tapers in the great bedroom, +and I wished they had not screwed him down, for then I could have +gone, late as it was, and had another look at my master's face. And +as I lay it seemed to me that I heard a door opened, and then a +step, and then a key turned. Now, the master never locked his door, +so the key of that room turned rusty in the lock, and before I had +time to think more than that I was out of bed and in my +dressing-gown, creeping along the passage. Sure enough, my master's +door was open, as I saw by the streak of light across the corridor. +I walked softly on my bare feet, and no one could have heard me go +along the thick carpet. When I got to the door, I saw that what I +had been trying not to think of was really true. Master Jasper was +there taking the screws out of his father's coffin to see what was +in that green leather case. + +I stood there and looked. I could not have moved, not for the +Queen's crown, if it had been offered me then and there. One after +another he took the screws out and laid them on the little bedside +table, where the master used to keep his pistols of a night. When +all the screws was out he lifted the lid in both his arms and set it +on the bed, where it lay looking like another coffin. Then he began +to search for what I had put in beside his father. + +Now, I may be a heartless woman, and I suppose I am, or how account +for it? But when I saw my young master go to his father's coffin +like that, and begin to serve his own interest and his own +curiosity, every spark of love I had ever had for the boy died out, +and I cared no more for him than if he had been the first comer. + +If he had kissed his father, or so much as looked kindly at the dead +face in the coffin, it would have been different. But he hadn't a +look or a thought to spare for him as gave him life, and had +humoured and spoiled and petted and made much of him all his twenty +years. Not a thought for his father; all his thoughts was to find +out what his father hadn't wished him to know. + +Now I was feeling set that Master Jasper should never know what was +in that green leather case, and I cared no more for what he thought +or what he felt than I should have done if he had been a common +thief as, God forgive me, he was in my eyes at that hour. So I crept +behind him softly, softly, an inch at a time, till I got to where I +could see the coffin; and if you'll believe a foolish old woman, I +kept looking at that dead face till I nigh forgot what I was there +for. And while I was standing mazed like and stupid, young Master +Jasper had got out the green case, and was turning over what was in +it in his hands. + +I got him by the two elbows behind, and he started like a horse that +has never felt even the whip will do at the spur's touch. Almost at +the same time my heart came leaping into my mouth, and if ever a +woman nearly died of fright, I was that woman, for some one behind +me put a hand on my shoulder and said, 'What's all this?' + +Young Sir Jasper and I both turned sharp. It was the doctor. His +ears were as quick as mine, and he had heard the key too, I suppose. +Anyhow, there he was, and he picked up the papers young Sir Jasper +had let fall, and says he, 'I will deal with these, young gentleman. +Go you to your room.' And Sir Jasper, like a kicked hound, went. +Then I began to tell my share in that night's work. But the doctor +stopped me, for he had seen me and watched me all along. Then he +stood by the coffin, and went through what was in the little leather +case. + +'I must keep these now,' he said, 'but you shall keep your promise +and put them beside him before he is buried.' + +And the next day, before the funeral, I went alone and saw my master +again, and gave him his little case back, and I thought I should +have liked him to know that I had done my best for him, but he could +not have known that without knowing of what young Sir Jasper had +done, and that would have broken his heart; so when all's said and +done, perhaps it's as well the dead know nothing. + +And after the funeral we was all in the library to hear the will +read, and the lawyer he read out that the personal property went to +Robert the gamekeeper, and the entailed property would of course be +young Sir Jasper's. + +And young Sir Jasper, oh that ever I should have called him my +boy!--he rose up in his place and said that his father was a doting +old fool and out of his mind, and he would have the law of them, +anyhow, and my late dear master not yet turned of fifty! And then +the doctor got up and he said-- + +'Stop a bit, young man; I have a word or two to say here.' + +And he up and told before all the folks there straight out what had +passed last night, and how young Sir Jasper had willed to rob his +father's coffin. + +'Now, you'll want to know what was in the little green leather +case,' he says at the end. 'And it was this,--a lock of hair and a +wedding ring, and a marriage certificate, and a baptism certificate; +and you, Jasper, are but the son by a second marriage; and Sir +Robert, I congratulate you, for you are come to your own.' + +'Do I get nothing, then?' shrieked young Sir Jasper, trembling like +a woman, and with the devil looking out of his eyes. + +'Your father intended you to have the entailed estates, right or +wrong; that was his choice. But you chose to know what he wished to +hide from you, and now you know that the entailed estates belong to +your brother.' + +'But the personalty?' + +'You forget,' said the doctor, rubbing his hands, with a sour smile, +'that your father provided for that in the will to which you so much +objected.' + +'Then, curse his memory and curse you,' cried Jasper, and flung out +of the house; nor have I ever seen him again, though he did set +lawyer folk to work in London to drive Sir Robert out of his own +place. But to no purpose. + +And Sir Robert, he lives in the old house, and is loved as his +father was before him by all he says a kind word to, and his kind +words are many. + +And to me he is all that I used to wish the boy Jasper might be, and +he has a reason for loving me which Jasper never had. + +For he said to me when he first spoke to me after his father's +funeral-- + +'My mother was a farmer's girl,' he said, 'and your father was a +farmer, so I feel we come, as it were, of one blood; and besides +that, I know who my father's friends were. I never forget those +things.' + +I still live on as a housekeeper at the Hall. My master left me no +money, but he bade his heir keep me on in my old place. I am glad to +think that he did not choose to leave me money, but instead the +great picture of himself that hung in the Hall. It hangs in my room +now, and looks down on me as I write. + + + + +ONE WAY OF LOVE + + +YOU don't believe in coincidences, which is only another way of +saying that all things work together for good to them that love +God--or them that don't, for that matter, if they are honestly +trying to do what they think right. Now I do. + +I had as good a time as most young fellows when I was young. My +father farmed a bit of land down Malling way, and I walked out with +the prettiest girl in our parts. Jenny was her name, Jenny Teesdale; +her people come from the North. Pretty as a pink Jenny was, and neat +in her ways, and would make me a good wife, every one said, even my +own mother; and when a man's mother owns that about a girl he may +know he's got hold of a treasure. Now Jenny--her name was Jane, but +we called her Jenny for short--she had a cousin Amelia, who was +apprenticed to the millinery and dress-making in Maidstone; the two +had been brought up together from little things, and they was that +fond of each other it was a pleasure to see them together. I was +fond of Amelia, too, like as a brother might be; and when Jenny and +me walked out of a Sunday, as often as not Amelia would come with +us, and all went on happy enough for a while. Then I began to notice +Jenny didn't seem to care so much about walking out, and one Sunday +afternoon she said she had a headache and would rather stay at home +by the fire; for it was early spring, and the days chilly. Amelia +and me took a turn by ourselves, and when we got back to Teesdale's +farm, there was Jenny, wonderfully brisked up, talking and laughing +away with young Wheeler, whose father keeps the post-office. I was +not best pleased, I can tell you, but I kept a still tongue in my +head; only, as time went on, I couldn't help seeing Jenny didn't +seem to be at all the same to me, and Amelia seemed sad, too. + +I was in the hairdressing then, and serving my time, so it was only +on Sundays or an evening that I could get out. But at last I said to +myself, 'This can't go on; us three that used to be so jolly, we're +as flat as half a pint of four ale; and I'll know the reason why,' +says I, 'before I'm twenty-four hours older.' So I went to +Teesdale's with that clear fixed in my head. + +Jenny was not in the house, but Amelia was. The old folks had gone +to a Magic Lantern in the schoolroom, and Amelia was alone in the +house. + +'I'll have it out with her,' thinks I; so as soon as we had passed +the time of day and asked after each other's relations, I says, +'Look here, Amelia, what is it that's making mischief between you +and me and Jenny, as used to be so jolly along of each other?' + +She went red, and she went white and red again. + +'Don't 'e ask me, Tom--don't 'e now, there's a good fellow.' + +And, of course, I asked her all the more. + +Then says she, 'Jenny'll never forgive me if I tell you.' + +'Jenny shan't never know,' says I; and I swore it, too. + +Then says Amelia, 'I can't abear to tell you, Tom, for I know it +will break your 'eart. But Jenny, she don't care for you no more; +it's Joe Wheeler as she fancies now, and she's out with him this +very minute, as here we stand. + +'I'll wring her neck for her,' says I. Then when I had taken time to +think a bit, 'I can't believe this, Amelia,' says I, 'not even from +you. I must ask Jenny.' + +'But that's just what you've swore not to do,' says she. 'She'll +never forgive me if you do, Tom; and what need of asking when for +the trouble of walking the length of the road you can see them +together? But if I tell you where to find them, you swear you won't +speak or make a fuss, because she'd know I'd told you?' + +'I swear I won't,' says I. + +'Well, then,' says Amelia, 'I don't seem to be acting fair to her; +but, take it the other way, I can't abear to stand by and see you +deceived, Tom. If you go by the churchyard an hour from now, you'll +see them in the porch; but don't you say a word to them, and never +say I told you. Now, be off, Tom,' says she. + +It was early summer by this time, and the evenings long. I don't +think any man need envy me what I felt as I walked about the lanes +waiting till it was time to walk up to the church and find out for +certain that I'd been made a fool of. + +It was dusk when I opened the churchyard gate and walked up the +path. + +There she was, sure enough, in her Sunday muslin with the violet +sprig, and her black silk jacket with the bugles, and her arm was +round Joe Wheeler's neck--confound him!--and his arms were round her +waist, both of them. They didn't see me, and I stood for a minute +and looked at them, and but for what I'd swore to Amelia I believe I +should have taken Wheeler by the throat and shaken the life out of +him then and there. But I had swore, and I turned sharp and walked +away, and I never went up to Teesdale's nor to my father's farm, but +I went straight back to Pound's, the man I was bound to, and I wrote +a letter to Jenny and one to Amelia, and in Amelia's I only said-- + + +'DEAR AMELIA,--Thank you very much; you were quite right. + +TOM.' + + +And in the other I said-- + + +Jenny, I've had pretty well enough of you; you can go to the devil +your own way. So no more at present from your sincere well-wisher +TOM. + +'P.S.--I'm going for a soldier.' + + +And I left everything: my master that I was bound to, and my trade +and my father. And I went straight off to London. And I should have +been a soldier right enough but that I fell in with a fireman, and +he persuaded me to go in for that business, which is just as +exciting as a soldier's, and a great deal more dangerous, most +times. And a fireman I was for six or eight years, but I never cared +to walk out with another girl when I thought of Jenny. I didn't tell +my folks where I'd gone, and for years I heard nothing from them. + +And one night there was a fire in a street off the Borough--a high +house it was,--and I went up the ladder to a window where there was +a woman screaming, and directly I see her face I see it was Jenny. + +I fetched her down the ladder right enough, and she clung round my +neck (she didn't know me from Adam), and said: 'Oh, go back and +fetch my husband.' And I knew it was Wheeler I'd got to go and find. + +Then I went back and I looked for Wheeler. + +There he was, lying on the bed, drunk. + +Then the devil says to me, 'What call have you to go and find him, +the drunken swine? Leave him be, and you can marry Jenny, and let +bygones be bygones'; and I stood there half a minute, quite still, +with the smoke getting thick round me. Then, the next thing I knew, +there was a cracking under my feet and the boards giving way, and I +sprang across to Wheeler all in a minute, as anxious to save him as +if he'd been my own twin brother. There was no waking him, it was +lift him or leave him, and somehow or other I got him out; but that +minute I'd given to listening to Satan had very nearly chucked us +both to our death, and we only just come off by the skin of our +teeth. The crowd cheered like mad when I dragged him out. + +I was burned awfully bad, and such good looks as I'd had burnt off +me, and I didn't know nothing plainly for many a long day. + +And when I come to myself I was in a hospital, and there was a +sweet-faced charity sister sitting looking at me, and, by the Lord, +if it wasn't Amelia! And she fell on her knees beside me, and she +says, 'Tom, I must tell you. + +Ever since I found religion I've known what a wicked girl I was. O +Tom, to see you lying there, so ill! O Tom, forgive me, or I shall +go mad, I know I shall!' + +And, with that, she told me straight out, holding nothing back, that +what she'd said to me that night eight years ago was a lie, no +better; and that who I'd seen in the church porch with young Wheeler +was not Jenny at all, but Amelia herself, dressed in Jenny's things. + +'Oh, forgive me, Tom!' says Amelia, the tears runnin' over her nun's +dress. 'Forgive me, Tom, for I can never forgive myself! I knew +Jenny didn't rightly care about you, Tom, and I loved you so dear. +And Wheeler wanted Jenny, and so I was tempted to play off that +trick on you; I thought you would come round to me after.' + +I was weak still with my illness, but I put my hand on hers, and I +says, 'I do forgive you, Amelia, for, after all, you done it for +love of me. And are you a nun, my dear?' says I. + +'No,' says she, 'I'm only on liking as it were; if I don't like them +or they don't like me, I can leave any minute.' + +'Then leave, for God's sake,' says I, 'if you've got a bit of love +for me left. Let bygones be bygones, and marry me as soon as I come +out of this, for it's worth something to be loved as you've loved +me, Amelia, and I was always fond of you.' + +'What?' says she. 'Me marry you, and be happy after all the harm +I've done? You run away from your articles and turned fireman, and +Jenny married to a drunken brute--no, Tom, no! I don't deserve to be +happy; but, if you forgive me, I shan't be as miserable as I was.' + +'Well,' says I, 'if ever you think better of it let me know.' + +And the curious thing is that, within two years, she did think +better of it--for why? That fire had sobered Wheeler more than +twenty thousand temperance tracts, and all the Sons of the Phoenix +and Bands of Hope rolled into one. He never touched a drop of drink +since that day, and Jenny's as happy as her kind ever is. I hear she +didn't fret over me more than a month, though perhaps that's only +what I deserved, writing to her as I did. And then Amelia she +said--'No such harm done then after all.' So she married me. + +Now, you see, if I'd listened to Satan and hadn't pulled Wheeler +out, I shouldn't have got burned, and I shouldn't have got into the +hospital, and I shouldn't have found Amelia again, and then where +should I have been? Whereas now, we're farming the same bit of land +that my father farmed before us. And if this was a made-up story, +Amelia would have had to drowned herself or something, and I should +have gone a-weeping and a-wailing for Jenny all my born days; but as +it's true and really happened, Amelia and me have been punished +enough, I think; for eight years of unhappiness is only a few words +of print in a story-book, but when you've got to live them, every +day of them, eight years is eight years, as Amelia and I shall +remember till our dying day; and eight years unhappiness is enough +punishment for most of the wrong things a man can do, or a woman +either for that matter. + + + + +COALS OF FIRE + + +ALL my life I've lived on a barge. My father, he worked a barge from +London to Tonbridge, and 'twas on a barge I first see the light when +my mother's time come. I used to wish sometimes as I could 'ave +lived in a cottage with a few bits of flowers in the front, but I +think if I'd been put to it I should have chose the barge rather +than the finest cottage ever I see. When I come to be grown up and +took a husband of my own it was a bargeman I took, of course. He was +a good sort always, was my Tom, though not particular about Sundays +and churchgoings and such like, as my father always was. It used to +be a sorrow to me in my young married days to think as Tom was so +far from the Lord, and I used to pray that 'is eyes might be opened +and that 'e might be led to know the truth like me, which was vanity +on my part, for I've come to see since that like as not 'e was +nearer the Lord nor ever I was. + +We worked the William and Mary, did Tom and me, and I used to think +no one could be 'appier than we was them first two years. Tom was as +kind as kind, and never said a hard word to me except when he was in +liquor; and as to liftin' his 'and to me, no, never in his life. But +after two years we got a little baby of our own, and then I knew as +I hadn't known what 'appiness was before. She was such a pretty +little thing, with yellow hair, soft and fluffy all over her head, +the colour of a new-hatched duck, and blue eyes and dear little +hands that I used to kiss a thousand times a day. + +My mother had married beneath her, they said, for she'd been to +school and been in service in a good family, and she taught me to +read and write and cipher in the old days, when I was a little kid +along of 'er in the barge. So we named our little kid Mary to be +like our boat, and as soon as she was big enough, I taught 'er all +my mother had taught me, and when she was about eight year old my +Tom's great-uncle James, who was a tinsmith by trade, left us a bit +of money--over L 200 it were. + +'Not a penny of it shall I spend,' says my Tom when he heard of it; +'we'll send our Mary to school with that, we will; and happen she'll +be a lady's-maid and get on in the world.' + +So we put her to boarding-school in Maidstone, and it was like +tearing the heart out of my body. And she'd been away from us a +fortnight, and the barge was like hell without her, Tom said, and I +felt it too though I couldn't say it, being a Christian woman; and +one night we'd got the barge fast till morning in Stoneham Lock, and +we were a-settin' talking about her. + +'Don't you fret, old woman,' says Tom, with the tears standin' in +his eyes, 'she's better off where she is, and she'll thank us for it +some day. She's 'appier where she is,' says 'e, 'nor she would be in +this dirty old barge along of us.' + +And just as he said it, I says, ''Ark! what's that?' And we both +listened, and if it wasn't that precious child standing on the bank +callin' 'Daddy,' and she'd run all the way from Maidstone in 'er +little nightgown, and a waterproof over it. + +P'raps if we'd been sensible parents, we should 'ave smacked 'er and +put 'er back next day; but as it was we hugged 'er, and we hugged +each other till we was all out o' breath, and then she set up on 'er +daddy's knee, and 'ad a bit o' cold pork and a glass of ale for 'er +supper along of us, and there was no more talk of sendin' 'er back +to school. But we put by the bit of money to set 'er up if she +should marry or want to go into business some day. + +And she lived with us on the barge, and though I ses it there wasn't +a sweeter girl nor a better girl atwixt London and Tonbridge. + +When she was risin' seventeen, I looked for the young men to be +comin' after 'er; and come after 'er they did, and more than one and +more than two, but there was only one as she ever give so much as a +kind look to, and that was Bill Jarvis, the blacksmith's son at +Farleigh. Whenever our barge was lyin' in the river of a Sunday, he +would walk down in 'is best in the afternoon to pass the time of day +with us, and presently it got to our Mary walking out with 'im +regular. + +'Blest if it ain't going to be "William and Mary" after all,' says +my old man. + +'He was pleased, I could see, for Bill Jarvis, he'd been put to his +father's trade, and 'e might look to come into his father's business +in good time, and barrin' a bit of poaching, which is neither here +nor there, in my opinion there wasn't a word to be said against 'im. + +And so things went along, and they was all jolly except me, but I +had it tugging at my heart day and night, that the little gell as +'ad been my very own these seventeen years wouldn't be mine no +longer soon, and, God forgive me, I hated Bill Jarvis, and I +wouldn't 'ave been sorry if I'd 'eard as 'arm 'ad come to him. + +The wedding was fixed for the Saturday; we was to 'ave a nice little +spread at the Rose and Crown, and the young folks was to go 'ome and +stay at old Jarvis's at Farleigh, and I was to lose my Pretty. And +on the Friday night, my old man, 'e went up to the Rose and Crown to +see about things and to get a drink along of 'is mates, and when 'e +come back I looked to see 'im a little bit on maybe, as was only +natural, the night before the weddin' and all. But 'e come back +early, and 'e come back sober, but with a face as white as my apron. + +'Bess,' says 'e to me, 'where's the girl?' + +'She's in 'er bunk asleep,' says I, 'lookin' as pretty as a picture. +She's been out with 'er sweet'eart,' says I. 'O Tom, this is the +last night she'll lay in that little bunk as she's laid in every +night of 'er life, except that wicked fortnight we sent 'er to +school.' + +'Look 'ere,' says 'e, speaking in a whisper, 'I've 'eard summat up +at the Rose and Crown: Bank's broke, and all our money's gone. I see +it in the paper, so it must be true.' + +'You don't mean it, Tom,' says I; 'it can't be true.' + +''Tis true, though, by God,' says 'e, ''ere, don't take on so, old +girl,' for I'd begun to cry. 'More's been lost on market-days, as +they say: our little girl's well provided for, for old Jarvis, 'e's +a warm man.' + +'She won't 'ave a day's peace all 'er life,' says I, 'goin' +empty-'anded into that 'ouse. I know old Mother Jarvis--a cat: we'd +best tell the child, p'raps she won't marry 'im if she knows she's +nothing to take to 'im,' and, God forgive me, my 'eart jumped up at +the thought. + +'No, best leave it be,' says my old man, 'they're fair sweet on each +other.' + +And so the next morning we all went up to the church, me cryin' all +the way as if it was 'er buryin' we was a-goin' to and not 'er +marryin'. The parson was at the church and a lot of folks as knew +us, us 'avin' bin in those parts so long; but none of the +bridegroom's people was there, nor yet the bridegroom. + +And we waited and we waited, my Pretty as pale as a snowdrop in her +white bonnet. And when it was a hour past the time, Tom, 'e ups and +says out loud in the church, for all the parson and me said ''Ush!' +'I'm goin' back 'ome,' says 'e; 'there won't be no weddin' to-day; +'e shan't 'ave 'er now,' says my old man, 'not if 'e comes to fetch +'er in a coach and six cram full of bank-notes,' says 'e. + +And with that 'e catches 'old of Mary in one and and me in the +other, and turns to go out of church, and at the door, who should we +meet but old Mother Jarvis, 'er that I'd called a cat in my wicked +spite only the day before. The tears was runnin' down her fat +cheeks, and as soon as she saw my Pretty, she caught 'er in 'er arms +and 'ugged 'er like as if she'd been 'er own. 'God forgive 'im,' +says she, 'I never could, for all he's my own son. He's gone off for +a soldier, and 'e left a letter sayin' you wasn't to think any more +of 'im, for 'e wasn't a marryin' man.' + +'It's that dam money,' says my goodman, forgettin' 'e was in church; +'that was all 'e wanted, but it ain't what he'll get,' says 'e. 'You +keep 'im out of my way, for it 'ull be the worse for 'im if 'e comes +within the reach of my fisties.' + +And with that we went along 'ome, the three of us. And the sun kept +a-shinin' just as if there was nothin' wrong, and the skylarks +a-singin' up in the blue sky till I would a-liked to wring their +necks for them. + +And we 'ad to go on up and down the river as usual, for it was our +livin', you see, and we couldn't get away from the place where +everybody knew the slight that had been put upon my Pretty. You'd +think p'raps that was as bad as might be, but it wasn't the worst. + +We was beginnin' June then, and by the end of August I knew that +what my Pretty 'ad gone through at the church was nothin' to what +she'd got to go through. Her face got pale and thin, and she didn't +fancy 'er food. + +I suppose I ought to 'ave bin angry with her, for we'd always kept +ourselves respectable; and I know if you spare the rod you spoil the +child, and I felt I ought to tell her I didn't 'old with such +wickedness; so one night when 'er father, 'e was up at the Rose and +Crown, and she, a-settin' on the bank with 'er elbows on 'er knees +and 'er chin in 'er 'ands, I says to 'er, 'You can't 'ide it no +longer, my girl: I know all about it, you wicked, bad girl, you.' + +And then she turned and looked at me like a dog does when you 'it +it. 'O mother,' says she, 'O mother!' And with that I forgot +everything about bein' angry with 'er, and I 'ad 'er in my arms in a +minute, and we was 'oldin' each other as hard as hard. + +'It was the night before the weddin',' says she, in a whisper. 'O +mother, I didn't think there was any harm in it, and us so nearly +man and wife.' + +'My Pretty,' says I, for she was cryin' pitiful, 'don't 'e take on +so, don't: there'll be the little baby by-and-by, and us 'ull love +it as dear as if you'd been married in church twenty times over.' + +'Ah, but father,' says she; 'he'll kill me when 'e knows.' + +Well, I put 'er to bed and I made 'er a cup of strong tea, and I +kissed 'er and covered 'er up with my heart like lead, and nobody as +ain't a mother can know what a merry-go-round of misery I'd got in +my head that night. And when my old man come 'ome I told 'im, and +'Don't be 'ard on the girl, for God's sake,' says I, 'for she's our +own child and our only child, and it was the night before the +weddin' as should 'ave bin.' + +''Ard on 'er?' says 'e, and I'd never 'eard 'is voice so soft, not +even when 'e was courtin' me, or when my Pretty was a little un, and +'e hushin' her to sleep. ''Ard on 'er? 'Ard on my precious lamb? It +ain't us men who is 'ard on them things, it's you wimmen-folk; the +day before 'er weddin', too!' + +Then 'e was quiet for a bit--then 'e takes 'is shoes off so as not +to make a clatter on the steps near where she slept, and 'e comes +out in a minute with my Bible in 'is 'and. + +'Now,' says 'e, very quiet, 'you needn't be afraid of my bein' 'ard +on 'er, but if ever I meet 'im, I'll 'ave 'is blood, if I swing for +it, and I'm goin' to swear it on this 'ere Bible--so help me God!' + +He looked like a mad thing; his eyes was a-shinin' like lanterns, +and 'is face all pulled out of its proper shape; and 'e plumps down +on 'is knees there, on the deck, with the Bible in 'is 'ands. And +before I knew what I was doin', I'd caught the book out of 'is +'ands, and chucked it into the river, my own Bible, that my own +mother had given me when I was a little kid, and I threw my arms +round his neck, and held his head against my bosom, so that his +mouth was shut, and 'e couldn't speak. + +'No, no, no, Tom,' says I, 'you mustn't swear it, and you shan't. +Think of the girl, think of your poor old woman, think of the poor +little kid that's comin', what ud us all do without you? And you +hanged for the sake of such trash as that! Why, 'e ain't worth it,' +says I, tryin' to laugh. + +Then 'e got 'is 'ead out of my arms and stood lookin' about 'im, +like a man that's 'ad a bad dream and 'as just waked up. Then 'e +smacks me on the back, 'All right, old woman,' says 'e, 'we won't +swear nothin', but it'll be a bad day for him when 'e comes a-nigh +the William and Mary.' + +So no more was said. And we got through the winter somehow, and the +baby was born, as fine a gell as ever you see; and what I said come +true, for we couldn't none of us 'ave loved the baby more if its +father and mother 'ad been married by an archbishop in Westminster +Abbey. And the folks we knew along the banks would have been kind to +my Pretty, but she wouldn't never show her face to any of them. +'I've got you, mother, and I've got father and the baby, and I don't +want no one else,' says she. + +My Tom, he wasn't never the same man after that night 'e 'd got out +the Bible to swear. He give up the drink, but it didn't make 'im no +cheerfuller, and 'e went to church now and then, a thing I'd never +known 'im do since we was married. And time went on, and it was +August again, with a big yellow moon in the sky. + +My Pretty and the baby was in bed, and the old man and me, we was +just a-turnin' in, when we 'eard some one a-runnin' along the +tow-path. My old man puts 'is 'ead out to see who's there, and as 'e +looked a man come runnin' along close by where we was moored, and 'e +jumped on to our barge, not stoppin' to look at the name, and, 'For +God's sake, hide me!' says 'e, and it was a soldier in a red coat +with a scared face, as I see by the light of the moon. And it was +Bill Jarvis what 'ad brought our girl to shame and run away and left +'er on 'er weddin' morn; and I looked to see my old man take 'im by +the shoulder and chuck 'im into the water. And Jarvis didn't see +whose barge he'd come aboard of. + +'I've got in a row,' says 'e; 'I knocked a man down and he's dead. +Oh, for God's sake, hide me! I've run all the way from Chatham.' + +Then my old man, he steps out on the deck, and Jarvis, 'e see who it +was, and--'O my God!' says 'e, and 'e almost fell back in the water +in 'is fright. + +Then my old man, 'e took that soldier by the arm, and 'e open the +door of the little cabin where my Pretty and 'er baby were. Then 'e +slammed it to again. 'No, I can't,' says 'e, 'by God, I can't.' And +before the soldier could speak, he'd dragged him down our cabin +stairs, and shoved 'im into 'is own bunk and chucked the covers over +'im. Then 'e come up to where I was standin' in the moonlight. + +'What ever you done that for?' says I. 'Why not 'a give 'im up to +serve 'im out for what 'e done to our Pretty?' + +He looked at me stupid-like. 'I don't know why,' says 'e, 'but I +can't'; and we stood there in the quiet night, me a-holding on to +'is arm, for I was shivering, so I could hardly stand. + +And presently half a dozen soldiers come by with a sergeant. + +'Hullo!' cries the sergeant, 'see any redcoat go this way?' + +'He's gone up over the bridge,' says Tom, not turnin' a 'air, 'im +that I'd never 'eard tell a lie in his life before,--'You'll catch +'im if you look slippy; what's 'e done?' + +'Only murder and desertion,' says the sergeant, as cheerful as you +please. + +'Oh, is that all?' says my old man; 'good-night to you.' + +'Good-night,' says the sergeant, and off they went. + +They didn't come back our way. We was a-goin' down stream, and we +passed Chatham next mornin'. + +Bill Jarvis, 'e lay close in the bunk, and my Pretty, she wouldn't +come out of 'er cabin; and at Chatham, my old man, 'e says, 'I'm +goin' ashore for a bit, old woman; you lay-to and wait for me.' And +he went. + +Then I went in to my Pretty and I told her all about it, for she +knew nothin' but that Jarvis was aboard; and when I'd told 'er, she +said, 'I couldn't 'a' done it, no, not for a kingdom.' + +'No more couldn't I,' ses I. 'Father's a better chap nor you and me, +my Pretty.' + +Presently my old man come back from the town, and he goes down to +the bunk where Bill Jarvis is lying, and 'e says, 'Look 'ere, Bill,' +says 'e, 'you didn't kill your man last night, and after all, it was +in a fair rough-and-tumble. The man's doing well. You take my tip +and go back and give yourself up; they won't be 'ard on you.' + +And Bill 'e looked at 'im all of a tremble. 'By God,' says 'e, +'you're a good man!' + +'It's more than you are, then, you devil,' says Tom. 'Get along, out +of my sight,' says 'e, 'before I think better of it.' + +And that soldier was off that barge before you could say 'knife,' +and we didn't see no more of 'im. + +But we was up at Hamsted Lock the next summer. The baby was +beginnin' to toddle about now; we'd called her Bessie for me. She +and her mother was a-settin' in the meadow pickin' the daisies, when +I see a soldier a-comin' along the meadow-path, and if it wasn't +that Bill Jarvis again. He stopped short when he saw my Pretty. + +'Well, Mary?' says 'e. + +'Well, Bill?' says she. + +'Is that my kid?' says 'e. + +'Whose else's would it be?' says she, flashing up at him; 'ain't it +enough to deceive a girl, and desert her, without throwing mud in +her face on the top of it all? Whose else's should the child be but +yours?' + +'Go easy,' says Bill, 'I didn't mean that, my girl. Look 'ere, says +'e, 'I got out of that scrape, thanks to your father, and I want to +let bygones be bygones, and I'll marry you to-morrow, if you like, +and be a father to the kid.' + +Then Mary, she stood up on her feet, with the little one in 'er +arms. + +'Marry you!' says she, 'I wouldn't marry you if you was the only man +in the world. Me marry a man as could serve a girl as you served me? +Not if it was to save me from hanging? Me give the kid a father like +you? Thank God, the child's my own, and you can't touch it. I tell +you,' says she, 'shame and all, I'd rather have things as they are, +than have married you in church and 'ave found out afterwards what a +cowardly beast you are.' + +And with that she walks past 'im, looking like a queen, and down +into her cabin; and 'e was left a-standin' there sucking the end of +his stick and looking like a fool. + +'I think, perhaps,' says I afterwards, 'you ought to 'ave let 'im +make an honest woman of you.' + +'I'm as honest as I want to be,' says she, 'and the child is all my +own now.' So no more was said. + +And things went on the same old sleepy way, like they always do on +the river, and we forgot the shame almost, in the pleasure of having +the little thing about us. And so the time went on, till one day at +Maidstone a Sister of Charity with one of those white caps and a big +cross round her neck, come down to the water's side inquiring for +Tom Allbutt. + +'That's me,' says my old man. + +'There's a young man ill in hospital,' says she. 'He's dying, I'm +afraid, and he wants to see you before he goes. It's typhoid fever, +but that's over now; he's dying of weakness, they say.' + +And when we asked the young man's name, of course it was Bill +Jarvis. So we left my Pretty in charge of the barge, and my old man +and me, we went up to the hospital. + +Bill was so changed you wouldn't 'ardly 'ave known 'im. From being a +fleshy, red-cheeked young fellow, he'd come to be as thin as a +skeleton, and 'is eyes seemed to fill half 'is face. + +'I want to marry Mary,' says 'e. 'I'm dying, I can't do her and the +kid no 'arm now, and I should die easier if she'd marry me here; the +chaplain would do it--he said so.' + +My old man didn't say nothin', but says I, 'I would dearly like her +to be made an honest woman of.' + +'It's me that wants to be made an honest man of,' says Bill. And +with that my old man, he took his hand and shook it. Then says Bill +with the tears runnin' down his cheeks,--partly from weakness, I +suppose, for 'e wasn't the crying sort--'So help me God, I never +knew what a beast I was till that day I come to you in your barge +and you showed me what a man was, Tom Allbutt; you did, so, and I've +been trying to be a man ever since, and I've given up the drink, and +I've lived steady, and I've never so much as looked at another girl +since that night. Oh, get her to be my wife,' says 'e, 'and let me +die easy.' + +And I went and fetched 'er, and she came along with me with the +child in her arms; and the chaplain married them then and there. I +don't know how it was the banns didn't have to be put up, but it was +managed somehow. + +'And you'll stay with me till I die,' says 'e, 'won't you, Mary, you +and the kid?' + +But he didn't die, he got better, and there isn't a couple happier +than him and Mary, for all they've gone through. + +And the doctor says it was Mary saved his life, for it was after he +had had a little talk with her that he took a turn for the better. + +'Mary,' says 'e, 'I've been a bad lot, and you was in the right when +you called me a coward and a beast; but your father showed me what a +man was, and I've tried to be a man. You was fond of me once, Mary; +you'll love me a little when I'm gone, and don't let the kid think +unkind of her daddy.' + +'Love you when you're gone?' says she, cryin' all over 'er face, and +kissin' 'im as if it was for a wager; 'you ain't a-goin' to die, +you're goin' to live along of me and baby. Love you when you're +gone?' says she, 'why, I've loved you all the time!' she says. + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of In Homespun, by Edith Nesbit + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IN HOMESPUN *** + +***** This file should be named 4378.txt or 4378.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/4/3/7/4378/ + +Produced by Charles Aldarondo. 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If you + don't derive profits, no royalty is due. Royalties are + payable to "Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation" + the 60 days following each date you prepare (or were + legally required to prepare) your annual (or equivalent + periodic) tax return. Please contact us beforehand to + let us know your plans and to work out the details. + +WHAT IF YOU *WANT* TO SEND MONEY EVEN IF YOU DON'T HAVE TO? +Project Gutenberg is dedicated to increasing the number of +public domain and licensed works that can be freely distributed +in machine readable form. + +The Project gratefully accepts contributions of money, time, +public domain materials, or royalty free copyright licenses. +Money should be paid to the: +"Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +If you are interested in contributing scanning equipment or +software or other items, please contact Michael Hart at: +hart@pobox.com + +[Portions of this header are copyright (C) 2001 by Michael S. Hart +and may be reprinted only when these Etexts are free of all fees.] +[Project Gutenberg is a TradeMark and may not be used in any sales +of Project Gutenberg Etexts or other materials be they hardware or +software or any other related product without express permission.] + +*END THE SMALL PRINT! FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.10/04/01*END* + + + + + + +Edited by Charles Aldarondo Aldarondo@yahoo.com + + + + +IN HOMESPUN + +BY E. NESBIT + + +LONDON 1896 + + + + + + + + +THESE tales are written in an English dialect--none the less a +dialect for that it lacks uniformity in the misplacement of +aspirates, and lacks, too, strange words misunderstanded of the +reader. + +In South Kent villages with names ending in 'den,' and out away on +the Sussex downs where villages end in 'hurst,' live the plain +people who talk this plain speech--a speech that should be sweeter +in English ears than the implacable consonants of a northern +kail-yard, or the soft one-vowelled talk of western hillsides. + +All through the summer nights the market carts creak along the +London road; to London go the wild young man and the steady young +man who 'betters' himself. To London goes the girl seeking a +'place.' The 'beano' comes very near to this land--so near that +across its marches you may hear the sackbut and shawm from the +breaks. Once a year come the hoppers. And so the cup of the hills +holds no untroubled pool of pastoral speech. This book therefore +is of no value to a Middle English scholar, and needs no glossary. + +E. NESBIT. + +KENT, _March_ 1896. + + + + + + +CONTENTS + + + + + +THE BRISTOL BOWL 1 +BARRING THE WAY 24 +GRANDSIRE TRIPLES 38 +A DEATH-BED CONFESSION 58 +HER MARRIAGE LINES 75 +ACTING FOR THE BEST 104 +GUILTY 125 +SON AND HEIR 146 +ONE WAY OF LOVE 160 +COALS OF FIRE 170 + + + + + + +THE BRISTOL BOWL + + + + + +MY cousin Sarah and me had only one aunt between us, and that was my +Aunt Maria, who lived in the little cottage up by the church. + +Now my aunt had a tidy little bit of money laid by, which she +couldn't in reason expect to carry with her when her time came to +go, wherever it was she might go to, and a houseful of furniture, +old-fashioned, but strong and good still. So of course Sarah and I +were not behindhand in going up to see the old lady, and taking her +a pot or so of jam in fruiting season, or a turnover, maybe, on a +baking-day, if the oven had been steady and the baking turned out +well. And you couldn't have told from aunt's manner which of us she +liked best; and there were some folks who thought she might leave +half to me and half to Sarah, for she hadn't chick nor child of her +own. + +But aunt was of a having nature, and what she had once got together +she couldn't bear to see scattered. Even if it was only what she had +got in her rag-bag, she would give it to one person to make a big +quilt of, rather than give it to two persons to make two little +quilts. + +So Sarah and me, we knew that the money might come to either or +neither of us, but go to both it wouldn't. + +Now, some people don't believe in special mercies, but I have always +thought there must have been something out of the common way for +things to happen as they did the day Aunt Maria sprained her ankle. +She sent over to the farm where we were living with my mother (who +was a sensible woman, and carried on the farm much better than most +men would have done, though that's neither here nor there) to ask if +Sarah or me could be spared to go and look after her a bit, for the +doctor said she couldn't put her foot to the ground for a week or +more. + +Now, the minister I sit under always warns us against superstition, +which, I take it, means believing more than you have any occasion +to. And I'm not more given to it than most folks, but still I always +have said, and I always shall say, that there's a special Providence +above us, and it wasn't for nothing that Sarah was laid up with a +quinsy that very morning. So I put a few things together--in Sarah's +hat-tin, I remember, which was handier to carry than my own--and I +went up to the cottage. + +Aunt was in bed, and whether it was the sprained ankle or the hot +weather I don't know, but the old lady was cantankerous past all +believing. + +'Good-morning, aunt,' I said, when I went in, 'and however did this +happen?' + +'Oh, you've come, have you?' she said, without answering my +question, 'and brought enough luggage to last you a year, I'll be +bound. When I was young, a girl could go to spend a week without +nonsense of boxes or the like. A clean shift and a change of +stockings done up in a cotton handkerchief--that was good enough for +us. But now, you girls must all be young ladies. I've no patience +with you.' + +I didn't answer back, for answering back is a poor sort of business +when the other person is able to make you pay for every idle word. +Of course, it's different if you haven't anything to lose by it. So +I just said-- + +'Never mind, aunt dear. I really haven't brought much; and what +would you like me to do first?' + +'I should think you'd see for yourself,' says she, thumping her +pillows, 'that there's not a stick in the house been dusted yet--no, +nor a stair swep'.' + +So I set to to clean the house, which was cleaner than most people's +already, and I got a nice bit of dinner and took it up on a tray. +But no, that wasn't right, for I'd put the best instead of the +second-best cloth on the tray. + +'The workhouse is where you'll end,' says aunt. + +But she ate up all the dinner, and after that she seemed to get a +little easier in her temper, and by-and-by fell off to sleep. + +I finished the stairs and tidied up the kitchen, and then I went to +dust the parlour. + +Now, my aunt's parlour was a perfect moral. I have never seen its +like before or since. The mantelpiece and the corner cupboard, and +the shelves behind the door, and the top of the chest of drawers and +the bureau were all covered up with a perfect litter and lurry of +old china. Not sets of anything, but different basins and jugs and +cups and plates and china spoons and the bust of John Wesley and +Elijah feeding the ravens in a red gown and standing on a green +crockery grass plot. + +There was every kind of china uselessness that you could think of; +and Sarah and I used to think it hard that a girl had no chance of +getting on in life without she dusted all this rubbish once a week +at the least. + +'Well, the sooner begun the sooner ended,' says I to myself So I +took the silk handkerchief that aunt kep' a purpose--an old one it +was that had belonged to uncle, and hemmed with aunt's own hair and +marked with his name in the corner. (Folks must have had a deal of +time in those days, I often think.) And I began to dust the things, +beginning with the big bowl on the chest of drawers, for aunt always +would have everything done just one way and no other. + +You think, perhaps, that I might as well have sat down in the +arm-chair and had a quiet nap and told aunt afterwards that I had +dusted everything; but you must know she was quite equivalent to +asking any of the neighbours who might drop in whether that dratted +china of hers was dusted properly. + +It was a hot afternoon, and I was tired and a bit cross. + +'Aunts, and uncles, and grandmothers,' thinks I to myself. 'O what a +stupid old lot they must have been to have set such store by all +this gimcrackery! Oh, if only a bull or something could get in here +for five minutes and smash every precious--oh, my cats alive!' + +I don't know how I did it, but just as I was saying that about the +bull, the big bowl slipped from my hands and broke in three pieces +on the floor at my feet, and at the same moment I heard aunt thump, +thump, thumping with the heel of her boot on the floor for me to go +up and tell her what I had broken. I tell you I wished from my heart +at that moment that it was me that had had the quinsy instead of +Sarah. + +I was so knocked all of a heap that I couldn't move, and the boot +went on thump, thump, thumping overhead. I had to go, but I was +flustered to that degree that as I went up the stairs I couldn't for +the life of me think what I should say. + +Aunt was sitting up in bed, and she shook her fist at me when I went +in. + +'Out with it!' she said. 'Speak the truth. Which of them is it? The +yallar china dish, or the big teapot, or the Wedgwood tobaccojar +that belonged to your grandfather?' + +And then all in a minute I knew what to say. The words seemed to be +put into my mouth, like they were into the prophets of old. + +'Lord, aunt!' I said, 'you give me quite a turn, battering on the +floor that way. What do you want? What is it?' + +'What have you broken, you wicked, heartless girl? Out with it, +quick!' + +'Broken?' I says. 'Well, I hope you won't mind much, aunt, but I +have had a misfortune with the little cracked pie-dish that the +potatopie was baked in; but I can easy get you another down at +Wilkins.' + +Aunt fell back on her pillows with a sort of groan. + +'Thank them as be!' she said, and then she sat up again, bolt +upright all in a minute. + +'You fetch me the pieces,' she says, short and sharp. + +I hope it isn't boastful to say that I don't think many girls would +have had the sense to bring up that dish in their apron and to break +it on their knee as they came up the stairs, and take it in and show +it to her. + +'Don't say another word about it,' says my aunt, as kind and hearty +as you please. + +Things not being as bad as she expected, it made her quite willing +to put up with things being a bit worse than they had been five +minutes before. I've often noticed it is this way with people. + +'You're a good girl, Jane,' she says, 'a very good girl, and I +shan't forget it, my dear. Go on down, now, and make haste with your +washing up, and get to work dusting the china.' + +And it was such a weight off my mind to feel that she didn't know, +that I felt as if everything was all right until I got downstairs +and see those three pieces of that red and yellow and green and blue +basin lying on the carpet as I had left them. My heart beat fit to +knock me down, but I kept my wits about me, and I stuck it together +with white of egg, and put it back in its place on the wool mat with +the little teapot on top of it so that no one could have noticed +that there was anything wrong with it unless they took the thing up +in their hands. + +The next three days I waited on aunt hand and foot, and did +everything she asked, and she was as pleased as pleased, till I felt +that Sarah hadn't a chance. + +On the third day I told aunt that mother would want me, it being +Saturday, and she was quite willing for the Widow Gladish to come in +and do for her while I was away. I chose a Saturday because that and +Sunday were the only days the china wasn't dusted. + +I went home as quick as I could, and I told mother all about it. + +'And don't you, for any sake, tell Sarah a word about it, or quinsy +or no quinsy, she'll be up at aunt's before we know where we are, to +let the cat out of the bag.' + +I took all the money out of my money-box that I had saved up for +starting housekeeping with in case aunt should leave her money to + +Sarah, and I put it in my pocket, and I took the first train to +London. + +I asked the porter at the station to tell me the way to the best +china-shop in London; and he told me there was one in Queen Victoria +Street. So I went there. + +It was a beautiful place, with velvet sofas for people to sit down +on while they looked at the china and glass and chose which pattern +they would have; and there were thousands of basins far more +beautiful than aunt's, but not one like hers, and when I had looked +over some fifty of them, the gentleman who was showing them to me +said-- + +'Perhaps you could give me some idea of what it is you do want?' + +Now, I had brought one of the pieces of the bowl up with me, the +piece at the back where it didn't show, and I pulled it out and +showed it to him. + +'I want one like this,' I said. + +'Oh!' said he, 'why didn't you say so at first? We don't keep that +sort of thing here, and it's a chance if you get it at all. You +might in Wardour Street, or at Mr. Aked's in Green Street, Leicester +Square.' + +Well, time was getting on and I did a thing I had never done before, +though I had often read of it in the novelettes. I waved my umbrella +and I got into a hansom cab. + +'Young man,' I said, 'will you please drive to Mr. Aked's in Green +Street, Leicester Square? and drive careful, young man, for I have a +piece of china in my hands that's worth a fortune to me.' + +So he grinned and I got in and the cab started. A hansom cab is +better than any carriage you ever rode in, with soft cushions to +lean against and little looking-glasses to look at yourself in, and, +somehow, you don't hear the wheels. I leaned back and looked at +myself and felt like a duchess, for I had my new hat and mantle on, +and I knew I looked nice by the way the young men on the tops of the +omnibuses looked at me and smiled. It was a lovely drive. When we +got to Mr. Aked's, which looked to me more like a rag-and-bone shop +than anything else, and very poor after the beautiful place in Queen +Victoria Street, I got out and went in. + +An old gentleman came towards me and asked what he could do for me, +and he looked surprised, as though he wasn't used to see such smart +girls in his pokey old shop. + +'Please, sir,' I said, 'I want a bowl like this, if you have got +such a thing among your old odds and ends.' + +He took the piece of china and looked at it through his glasses for +a minute. Then he gave it back to me very carefully. + +'There's not a piece of this ware in the market. The few specimens +extant are in private collections.' + +'Oh dear,' I said; 'and can't I get another like it?' + +'Not if you were to offer me a hundred pounds down,' said the old +man. + +I couldn't help it. I sat down on the nearest chair and began to +cry, for it seemed as if all my hopes of Aunt Maria's money were +fading away like the 'roseate hues of early dawn' in the hymn. + +'Come, come,' said he, 'what's the matter? Cheer up. I suppose +you're in service and you've broken this bowl. Isn't that it? But +never mind--your mistress can't do anything to you. Servants can't +be made to replace valuable bowls like this.' + +That dried my eyes pretty quick, I can tell you. + +'Me in service!' I said. 'And my grandfather farming his own land +before you were picked out of the gutter, I'll be bound'--God +forgive me that I should say such a thing to an old man--'and my own +aunt with a better lot of fal-lals and trumpery in her parlour than +you've got in all your shop.' + +With that he laughed, and I flounced out of the shop, my cheeks +flaming and my heart going like an eight-day clock. I was so +flustered I didn't notice that some one came out of the shop after +me, and I had walked a dozen yards down the street before I saw that +some one was alongside of me and saying something to me. + +It was another old gentleman--at least, not so old as Mr. Aked,--and +I remembered now having seen him at the back of the shop. He was +taking off his hat, as polite as you please. + +'You're quite overcome,' he said, 'and no wonder. Come and have a +little dinner with me quietly somewhere, and tell me all about it.' + +'I don't want any dinner,' I said; 'I want to go and drown myself, +for it's all over, and I've nothing more to look for. My brother +Harry will have the farm, and I shan't get a penny of aunt's money. +Why couldn't they have made plenty of the ugly old basins while they +were about it?' + +'Come and have some dinner,' the old gentleman said again, 'and +perhaps I can help you. I have a basin just like that.' + +So I did. We went to some place where there were a lot of little +tables and waiters in black clothes; and we had a nice dinner, and I +did feel better for it, and when we had come to the cheese, I told +him exactly what had happened; and he leaned his head on his hands, +and he thought, and thought, and presently he said-- + +'Do you think your aunt would sell any of her china?' + +'That I'm downright sure she wouldn't,' I said; 'so it's no good +your asking.' + +'Well, you see, your aunt won't be down for three or four days yet. +You give me your address, and I'll write and tell you if I think of +anything.' + +And with that he paid the bill and had a cab called, and put me in +it and paid the driver, and I went along home. + +I didn't sleep much that night, and next day I was thinking all +sermon-time of whatever I could do, for it wasn't in nature that my +aunt would not find me out before another two days was over my head; +and she had never been so nice and kind, and had even gone so far as +to say-- + +'Whoever my money's left to, Jane, will be bound not to part with my +china, nor my old chairs and presses. Don't you forget, my child. +It's all written in black and white, and if the person my money's +left to sells these old things, my money goes along too.' + +There was no letter on Monday morning, and I was up to my elbows in +the suds, doing aunt's bit of washing for her, when I heard a step +on the brick path, and there was that old gentleman coming round by +the water-butt to the back-door. + +'Well?' says he. 'Anything fresh happened? + +'For any sake,' says I in a whisper, 'get out of this. She'll hear +if I say more than two words to you. If you've thought of anything +that's to be of any use, get along to the church porch, and I'll be +with you as soon as I can get these things through the rinse-water +and out on the line.' + +'But,' he says in a whisper, 'just let me into the parlour for five +minutes, to have a look round and see what the rest of the bowl is +like.' + +Then I thought of all the stories I had heard of pedlars' packs, and +a married lady taken unexpectedly, and tricks like that to get into +the house when no one was about. So I thought-- + +'Well, if you are to go in, I must go in with you,' and I squeezed +my hands out of the suds, and rolled them into my apron and went in, +and him after me. + +You never see a man go on as he did. It's my belief he was hours in +that room, going round and round like a squirrel in a cage, picking +up first one bit of trumpery and then another, with two fingers and +a thumb, as carefully as if it had been a _tulle_ bonnet just home +from the draper's, and setting everything down on the very exact +spot he took them up from. + +More than once I thought that I had entertained a loony unawares, +when I saw him turn up the cups and plates and look twice as long at +the bottoms of them as he had at the pretty parts that were meant to +show, and all the time he kept saying--'Unique, by Gad, perfectly +unique!' or 'Bristol, as I'm a sinner,' and when he came to the +large blue dish that stands at the back of the bureau, I thought he +would have gone down on his knees to it and worshipped it. + +'Square-marked Worcester!' he said to himself in a whisper, speaking +very slowly, as if the words were pleasant in his mouth, +'Square-marked Worcester--an eighteen-inch dish!' + +I had as much trouble getting him out of that parlour as you would +have getting a cow out of a clover-patch, and every minute I was +afraid aunt would hear him, or hear the china rattle or something; +but he never rattled a bit, bless you, but was as quiet as a mouse, +and as for carefulness he was like a woman with her first baby. I +didn't dare ask him anything for fear he should answer too loud, and +by-and-by he went up to the church porch and waited for me. + +He had a brown-paper parcel with him, a big one, and I thought to +myself, 'Suppose he's brought his bowl and is wishful to sell it.' I +got those things through the blue-water pretty quick, I can tell +you. I often wish I could get a maid who would work as fast as I +used to when I was a girl. Then I ran up and asked aunt if she could +spare me to run down to the shop for some sago, and I put on my +sunbonnet and ran up, just as I was, to the church porch. The old +gentleman was skipping with impatience. I've heard of people +skipping with impatience, but I never saw any one do it before. + +'Now, look here,' he said, 'I want you--I must--oh, I don't know +which way to begin, I have so many things to say. I want to see your +aunt, and ask her to let me buy her china.' + +'You may save your trouble,' I said, 'for she'll never do it. She's +left her china to me in her will,' I said. + +Not that I was quite sure of it, but still I was sure enough to say +so. The old gentleman put down his brown-paper parcel on the porch +seat as careful as if it had been a sick child, and said-- + +'But your aunt won't leave you anything if she knows you have broken +the bowl, will she?' + +'No,' I said, 'she won't, that's true, and you can tell her if you +like.' For I knew very well he wouldn't. + +'Well,' says he, speaking very slowly, 'if I lent you my bowl, you +could pretend it's hers and she'll never know the difference, for +they are as like as two peas. I can tell the difference, of course, +but then I'm a collector. If I lend you the bowl, will you promise +and vow in writing, and sign it with your name, to sell all that +china to me directly it comes into your possession? Good gracious, +girl, it will be hundreds of pounds in your pocket.' + +That was a sad moment for me. I might have taken the bowl and +promised and vowed, and then when the china came to me I might have +told him I hadn't the power to sell it; but that wouldn't have +looked well if any one had come to know of it. So I just said +straight out-- + +'The only condition of my having my aunt's money is, that I never +part with the china.' + +He was silent a minute, looking out of the porch at the green trees +waving about in the sunshine over the gravestones, and then he +says-- + +'Look here, you seem an honourable girl. I am a collector. I buy +china and keep it in cases and look at it, and it's more to me than +meat, or drink, or wife, or child, or fire--do you understand? And I +can no more bear to think of that china being lost to the world in a +cottage instead of being in my collection than you can bear to think +of your aunt's finding out about the bowl, and leaving the money to +your cousin Sarah.' + +Of course, I knew by that that he had been gossiping in the village. + +'Well?' I said, for I saw that he had something more on his mind. + +'I'm an old man,' he went on, 'but that need not stand in the way. +Rather the contrary, for I shall be less trouble to you than a young +husband. Will you marry me out of hand? And then when your aunt dies +the china will be mine, and you will be well provided for.' + +No one but a madman would have made such an offer, but that wasn't a +reason for me to refuse it. I pretended to think a bit, but my mind +was made up. + +'And the bowl?' I said. + +'Of course I'll lend you my bowl, and you shall give me the pieces +of the old one. Lord Worsley's specimen has twenty-five rivets in +it.' + +'Well, sir,' I said, 'it seems to be a way out of it that might suit +both of us. So, if you'll speak to mother, and if your circumstances +is as you represent, I'll accept your offer, and I'll be your good +lady.' + +And then I went back to aunt and told her Wilkinses was out of sago, +but they would have some in on Wednesday. + +It was all right about the bowl. She never noticed the difference. I +was married to the old gentleman, whose name was Fytche, the next +week by special licence at St. Nicholas Cole Abbey, Queen Victoria +Street, which is very near that beautiful glass and china shop where +I had tried to match the bowl; and my aunt died three months later +and left me everything. Sarah married in quite a poor way. That +quinsy of hers cost her dear. + +Mr. Fytche was very well off, and I should have liked living at his +house well enough if it hadn't been for the china. The house was +cram full of it, and he could think of nothing else. No more going +out to dinner; no amusements; nothing as a girl like me had a right +to look for. So one day I told him straight out I thought he had +better give up collecting and sell aunt's things, and we would buy a +nice little place in the country with the money. + +'But, my dear,' he said, 'you can't sell your aunt's china. She left +it stated expressly in her will.' + +And he rubbed his hands and chuckled, for he thought he had got me +there. + +'No, but you can,' I said, 'the china is yours now. I know enough +about law to know that; and you can sell it, and you shall.' + +And so he did, whether it was law or not, for you can make a man do +anything if you only give your mind to it and take your time and +keep all on. It was called the great Fytche sale, and I made him pay +the money he got for it into the bank; and when he died I bought a +snug little farm with it, and married a young man that I had had in +my eye long before I had heard of Mr. Fytche. + +And we are very comfortably off, and not a bit of china in the house +that's more than twenty years old, so that whatever's broke can be +easy replaced. + +As for his collection, which would have brought me in thousands of +pounds, they say, I have to own he had the better of me there, for +he left it by will to the South Kensington Museum. + + + + + + +BARRING THE WAY + + + + + +I DON'T know how she could have done it. I couldn't have done it +myself. At least, I don't think so. But being lame and small, and +not noticeable anyhow, I had never any temptation, so I can't judge +those that have. + +Ellen was tall and a slight figure, and as pretty as a picture in +her Sunday clothes, and prettier than any picture on a working day, +with her sleeves rolled up to her shoulder and the colour in her +face like a rose, and her brown, hair all twisted up rough anyhow; +and, of course, she was much sought after and flattered. But I +couldn't have done it myself, I think, even if I had been sought +after twice as much and twice as handsome. No, I couldn't, not after +the doctor had said that father's heart was weak, and any sudden +shock might bring an end to him. + +But, oh! poor dear, she was my sister--my own only sister--and it's +not the time now to be hard on her, and she where she is. + +She was walking regular with a steady young man, who worked through +the week at Hastings, and come home here on a Sunday, and she would +have married him and been as happy as a queen, I know; and all her +looking in the glass, and dressing herself pretty, would have come +to being proud of her babies and spending what bits she could get +together in making them look smart; but it was not to be. + +Young Barber, the grocer's son, who had a situation in London, he +come down for his summer holiday, and then it was 'No, thank you +kindly,' to poor Arthur Simmons, that had loved her faithful and +true them two years, and she was all for walking with young Mr. +Barber, besides running into the shop twenty times a day when no +occasion was, just for a word across the counter. + +And father wasn't the best pleased, but he was always a silent man, +very pious, and not saying much as he sat at his bench, for he had +been brought up to the shoemaking and was very respected among +Pevensey folks. He would hum a hymn or two at his work sometimes, +but he was never a man of words. When young Barber went back to +London, Ellen, she began to lose her pretty looks. I had never +thought much of young Barber. There was something common about +him--not like the labouring men, but a kind of town commonness, +which is twenty times worse to my thinking; and if I didn't like him +before, you may guess I didn't waste much love on him when I see +poor Ellen's looks. + +Now, if I am to tell you this story at all, I must tell it very +steady and quiet, and not run on about what I thought or what I +felt, or I shan't never have the heart to go through it. The long +and short of it was that a month hadn't passed over our heads after +young Barber leaving, when one morning our Ellen wasn't there. And +she left a note, nailed to father's bench, to say she had gone off +with her true love, and father wasn't to mind, for she was going to +be married. + +Father, he didn't say a word, but he turned a dreadful white, and +blue his lips were, and for one dreadful moment I thought that I had +lost him too. But he come round presently. I ran across to the Three +Swans to get a drop of brandy for him; and I looked at her letter +again, and I looked at him, and we both see that neither of us +believed that she was going to be married. There was something about +the very way of the words as she had written them which showed they +weren't true. + +Father, he said nothing, only when next Sunday had come, and I had +laid out his Sunday things and his hat, all brushed as usual, he +says-- + +'Put 'em away, my girl. I don't believe in Sunday. How can I believe +in all that, and my Ellen gone to shame?' + +And, after that, Sundays was the same to him as weekdays, and the +folks looked shy at us, and I think they thought that, what with +Ellen's running away and father's working on Sundays, we was on the +high-road to the pit of destruction. + +And so the time went on, and it was Christmas. The bells was ringing +for Christmas Eve, and I says to father: 'O father! come to church. +Happen it's all true, and Ellen's an honest woman, after all.' + +And he lifted his head and looked at me, and at that moment there +come a soft little knock at the door. I knew who it was afore I had +time to stir a foot to go across the kitchen and open the door to +her. She blinked her eyes at the light as I opened the door to her. +Oh, pale and thin her face was that used to be so rosy-red, and-- + +'May I come in?' she said, as if it wasn't her own home. And father, +he looked at her like a man that sees nothing, and I was frightened +what he might do, like the fool I was, that ought to have known +better. + +'I'm very tired,' says Ellen, leaning against the door-post; 'I have +come from a very long way.' + +And the next minute father makes two long steps to the door, and his +arms is round her, and she a-hanging on his neck, and they two +holding each other as if they would never let go. And so she come +home, and I shut the door. + +And in all that time father and me, we couldn't make too much of +her, me being that thankful to the Lord that He had let our dear +come back to us; and never a word did she say to me of him that had +been her ruin. But one night when I asked her, silly-like, and +hardly thinking what I was doing, some question about him, father +down with his fist on the table, and says he-- + +'When you name that name, my girl, you light hell in me, and if ever +I see his damned face again, God help him and me too.' + +And so I held my stupid tongue, and sat sewing with Ellen long days, +and it was a happy, sad time, if a time can be sad and happy both. + +And it was about primrose-time that her time come, and we had kept +it quiet, and nobody knew but us and Mrs. Jarvis, that lived in the +cottage next to ours, and was Ellen's godmother, and loved her like +her own daughter; and when the baby come, Ellen says, 'Is it a boy +or a girl?' And we told her it was a boy. + +Then, says she, 'Thank God for that! My baby won't live to know such +shame as mine.' + +And there wasn't one of us dared tell her that God meant no shame or +pain or grief at all should come to her little baby, because it was +dead. But by-and-by she would have it to lie by her, and we said No: +it was asleep; and for all we said she guessed the truth somehow. +And she began to cry, the tears running down her cheeks and wetting +the linen about her, and she began to moan, 'I want my baby--oh, +bring me my little baby that I have never seen yet. I want to say +"good-bye" to it, for I shall never go where it is going.' + +And father said, 'Bring her the child.' + +I had dressed the poor little thing--a pretty boy, and would have +been a fine man--in one of the gowns I had taken a pleasure in +sewing for it to wear, and the little cap with the crimped border +that had been Ellen's own when she was a baby and her mother's +pride, and I brought it and put it in her arms, and it was clay-cold +in my hands as I carried it. And she laid its head on her breast as +well as she could for her weakness; and father, who was leaning over +her, nigh mad with love and being so anxious about her, he says-- + +'Let Lucy take the poor little thing away, Ellen,' he says, 'for you +must try to get well and strong for the sake of those that love +you.' + +Then she says, turning her eyes on him, shining like stars out of +her pale face, and still holding her baby tight to her breast, 'I +know what's the best thing I can do for them as love me, and I'm +doing it fast. Kiss me, father, and kiss the baby too. Perhaps if I +hold it tight we'll go out into the dark together, and God won't +have the heart to part us.' And so she died. + +And there was no one but me that touched her after she died, for all +I am a cripple, and I laid her out, my pretty, with my own hands, +and the baby in the hollow of her arm; and I put primroses all round +them, and I took father to look at them when all was done, and we +stood there, holding hands and looking at her lying there so sweet +and peaceful, and looking so good too, whatever you may think, with +all the trouble wiped off her face as if the Lord had washed it +already in His heavenly light. + +Now, Ellen was buried in the churchyard, and Parson, who was always +a hard man, he would have her laid away to the north side, where no +sun gets to for the trees and the church, and where few folks like +to be buried. But father, he said, 'No; lay her beside her mother, +in the bit of ground I bought twenty years ago, where I mean to lie +myself, and Lucy too, when her time comes, so that if the talk of +rising again is true we shall be all together at the last, as +kinsfolk should.' + +So they laid her there, and her name was cut under mother's on the +headstone. + +Father didn't grieve and take on as some men do, but he was quieter +than he used to be, and didn't seem to have that heart in his work +that he always had even after she had left us. It seemed as if the +spring of him was broken, somehow. Not but what he was goodness +itself to me then and always. But I wasn't his favourite child, nor +could I have looked to be, me being what I am and she so sweet and +pretty, and such a way with her. + +And father went to church to the burying, but he wouldn't go to +service. 'I think maybe there's a God, and if there is, I have that +in my heart that's quite enough keeping in my own poor house, +without my daring to take it into His.' + +And so I gave up going too. I wouldn't seem to be judging father, +not though I might be judged myself by all the village. But when I +heard the church-bells ringing, ringing, it was like as if some one +that loved me was calling to me and me not answering; and sometimes +when all the folk was in church, I used to hobble up on my crutches +to the gate and stand there and sometimes hear a bit of the singing +come through the open door. + +It was the end of August that Mr. Barber at the shop fell off a +ladder leading to his wareroom, and was killed on the spot; and Mrs. +Jarvis, she says to me, 'If that young Barber comes home, as I +suppose he will, to take what's his by right in the eyes of the law, +he might as well go and put his head into an oven on a baking-day, +and get his worst friend to shove his legs in after him and shut the +door to.' + +'He won't come back,' says I. 'How could he face it, when every one +in the village knows it?' + +For when Ellen died it could not be kept secret any longer, and a +heap of folks that would have drawn their skirts aside rather than +brush against her if she had been there alive and well, with her +baby at her breast, had a tear and a kind word for her now that she +was gone where no tears and no words could get at her for good or +evil. + +I see once a bit of poetry in a book, and it said when a woman had +done what she had done, the only way to get forgiven is to die, and +I believe that's true. But it isn't true of fathers and sisters. + +It was Sunday morning, and father, he was working away at his +bench--not that it ever seemed to make him any happier to work, only +he was more miserable if he didn't,--and I had crept up to the +churchyard to lean against the wall and listen to the psalms being +sung inside, when, looking down the village street, I saw Barber's +shop open, and out came young Barber himself. Oh, if God forgets any +one in His mercy, it will be him and his like! + +He come out all smart and neat in his new black, and he was +whistling a hymn tune softly. Our house was betwixt Barber's shop +and the church, not a stone's-throw off, anyway; and I prayed to God +that Barber would turn the other way and not come by our house, +where father he was sitting at his bench with the door open. + +But he did turn, and come walking towards me; and I had laid my +crutches on the ground, and I stooped to pick them up to go home--to +stop words; for what were words, and she in her grave?--when I heard +young Barber's voice, and I looked over the wall, and see he had +stopped, in his madness and folly and the wickedness of his heart, +right opposite the house he had brought shame to, and he was +speaking to father through the door. + +I couldn't hear what he said, but he seemed to expect an answer, +and, when none came, he called out a little louder, 'Oh, well, +you've no call to hold your head so high, anyhow!' And for the way +he said it I could have killed him myself, but for having been +brought up to know that two wrongs don't make a right, and +'Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord; I will repay.' + +They was at prayers in the church, and there was no sound in the +street but the cooing of the pigeons on the roofs, and young Barber, +he stood there looking in at our door with that little sneering +smile on his face, and the next minute he was running for his life +for the church, where all the folks were, and father after him like +a madman, with his long knife in his hand that he used to cut the +leather with. It all happened in a flash. + +Barber come running up the dusty road in his black, and passed me as +I stood by the churchyard gate, and up towards the church; but +sudden in the path he stopped short, his eyes seeming starting out +of his head as he looked at Ellen's grave--not that he could see her +name, the headstone being turned the other way,--and he put his +hands before his eyes and stood still a-trembling, like a rabbit +when the dogs are on it, and it can't find no way out. Then he cried +out, 'No, no, cover her face, for God's sake!' and crouched down +against the footstone, and father, coming swift behind him, passed +me at the gate, and he ran his knife through Barber's back twice as +he crouched, and they rolled on the path together. + +Then all the folks in church that had heard the scream, they come +out like ants when you walk through an ant-heap. Young Barber was +holding on to the headstone, the blood running out through his new +broadcloth, and death written on his face in big letters. + +I ran to lift up father, who had fallen with his face on the grave, +and as I stooped over him, young Barber he turned his head towards +me, and he says in a voice I could hardly catch, such a whisper it +was, 'Was there a child? I didn't know there was a child--a little +child in her arm, and flowers all round.' + +'Your child,' says I; 'and may God forgive you!' + +And I knew that he had seen her as I see her when my hands had +dressed her for her sleep through the long night. + +I never have believed in ghosts, but there is no knowing what the +good Lord will allow. + +So vengeance overtook him, and they carried him away to die with the +blood dropping on the gravel; and he never spoke a word again. + +And when they lifted father up with the red knife still fast in his +hand, they found that he was dead, and his face was white and his +lips were blue, like as I had seen them before. And they all said +father must have been mad; and so he lies where he wished to lie, +and there's a place there where I shall lie some day, where father +lies, and mother, and my dear with her little baby in the hollow of +her arm. + + + + + + +GRANDSIRE TRIPLES + + + + + +I WAS promised to William, in a manner of speaking, close upon seven +year. What I mean to say is, when he was nigh upon fourteen, and was +to go away to his uncle in Somerset to learn farming, he gave me a +kiss and half of a broken sixpence, and said-- + +'Kate, I shall never think of any girl but you, and you must never +think of any chap but me.' + +And the Lord in His goodness knows that I never did. + +Father and mother laughed a bit, and called it child's nonsense; but +they was willing enough for all that, for William was a likely chap, +and would be well-to-do when his good father died, which I am sure I +never wished nor prayed for. All the trouble come from his going to +Somerset to learn farming, for his uncle that was there was a Roman, +and he taught William a good deal more than he set out to learn, so +that presently nothing would do but William must turn Roman Catholic +himself. I didn't mind, bless you. I never could see what there was +to make such a fuss about betwixt the two lots of them. Lord love +us! we're all Christians, I should hope. But father and mother was +dreadful put out when the letter come saying William had been +'received' (like as if he was a parcel come by carrier). Father, he +says-- + +'Well, Kate, least said soonest mended. But I had rather see you +laid out on the best bed upstairs than I'd see you married to +William, a son of the Scarlet Woman.' + +In my silly innocence I couldn't think what he meant, for William's +mother was a decent body, who wore a lilac print on week-days and a +plain black gown on Sunday for all she was a well-to-do farmer's +wife, and might have gone smart as a cock pheasant. + +It was at tea-time, and I was a-crying on to my bread-and-butter, +and mother sniffing a little for company behind the tea-tray, and +father, he bangs down his fist in a way to make the cups rattle +again, and he says-- + +'You've got to give him up, my girl. You write and tell him so, and +I'll take the letter as I go down to the church to-night to +practice. I've been a good father to you, and you must be a good +girl to me; and if you was to marry him, him being what he is, I'd +never speak to you again in this world or the next.' + +'You wouldn't have any chance in the next, I'm afraid, James,' said +my mother gently, 'for her poor soul, it couldn't hope to go to the +blessed place after that.' + +'I should hope not,' said my father, and with that he got up and +went out, half his tea not drunk left in the mug. + +Well, I wrote that letter, and I told William right enough that him +and me could never be anything but friends, and that he must think +of me as a sister, and that was what father told me to say. But I +hope it wasn't very wrong of me to put in a little bit of my own, +and this is what I said after I had told him about the friend and +sister-- + +'But, dear William,' says I, 'I shall never love anybody but you, +that you may rely, and I will live an old maid to the end of my days +rather than take up with any other chap; and I should like to see +you once, if convenient, before we part for ever, to tell you all +this, and to say "Good-bye" and "God bless you." So you must find +out a way to let me know quiet when you come home from learning the +farming in Somerset.' + +And may I be forgiven the deceitfulness, and what I may call the +impudence of it! I really did give father that same letter to post, +and him believing me to be a better girl than I was, to my shame, +posted it, not doubting that I had only wrote what he told me. + +That was the saddest summer ever I had. The roses was nothing to me, +nor the lavender neither, that I had always been so fond of; and as +for the raspberries, I don't believe I should have cared if there +hadn't been one on the canes; and even the little chickens, I +thought them a bother, and--it goes to my heart to say it--a whole +sitting was eaten by the rats in consequence. Everything seemed to +go wrong. The butter was twice as long a-coming as ever I knowed it, +and the broad beans got black fly, and father lost half his hay with +the weather. If it had been me that had done something unkind, +father would have said it was a Providence on me. But, of course, I +knew better than to speak up to my own father, with his hay lying +rotting and smoking in the ten-acre, and telling him he was a-being +judged. + +Well, the harvest was got in. It was neither here nor there. I have +seen better years and I have seen worse. And October come. I was +getting to bed one night; at least, I hadn't begun to undress, for I +was sitting there with William's letters, as he had wrote me from +time to time while he was in Somerset, and I was reading them over +and thinking of William, silly fashion, as a young girl will, and +wishing it had been me was a Roman Catholic and him a Protestant, +because then I could have gone into a convent like the wicked people +in father's story-books. I was in that state of silliness, you see, +that I would have liked to do something for William, even if it was +only going into a convent--to be bricked up alive, perhaps. And then +I hears a scratch, scratch, scratching, and 'Drat the mice,' says I; +but I didn't take any notice, and then there was a little tap, +tapping, like a bird would make with its beak on the window-pane, +and I went and opened it, thinking it was a bird that had lost its +way and was coming foolish-like, as they will, to the light. So I +drew the curtain and opened the window, and it was--William! + +'Oh, go away, do,' says I; 'father will hear you.' + +He had climbed up by the pear-tree that grew right and left up the +wall, and-- + +'I ask your pardon,' says he, 'my pretty sweetheart, for making so +free as to come to your window this time of night, but there didn't +seem any other way.' + +'Oh, go, dear William, do go,' says I. I expected every moment to +see the door open and father put his head in. + +'I'm not going,' said William, 'till you tell me where you'll meet +me to say "Good-bye" and "God bless you," like you said in the +letter.' + +Though I knew the whole parish better than I know the palm of my +hand, if you'll believe me, I couldn't for the life of me for the +moment think of any place where I could meet William, and I stood +like a fool, trembling. Oh, what a jump I gave when I heard a noise +like a heavy foot in the garden outside! + +'Oh! it's father got round. Oh! he'll kill you, William. Oh! +whatever shall we do?' + +'Nonsense!' said William, and he caught hold of my shoulder and gave +me a gentle little shake. 'It was only one of these pears as I +kicked off. They must be as hard as iron to fall like that.' + +Then he gave me a kiss, and I said: 'Then I'll meet you by the +Parson's Shave to-morrow at half-past five, and do go. My heart's +a-beating so I can hardly hear myself speak.' + +'Poor little bird!' says William. Then he kissed me again and off he +went; and considering how quiet he came, so that even I couldn't +hear him, you would not believe the noise he made getting down that +pear-tree. I thought every minute some one would be coming in to see +what was happening. + +Well, the next day I went about my work as frightened as a rabbit, +and my heart beating fit to choke me, trying not to think of what I +had promised to do. At tea-time father says, looking straight before +him-- + +'William Birt has come home, Kate. You remember I've got your +promise not to pass no words with him, him being where he is, +without the fold, among the dogs and things.' + +And I didn't answer back, though I knew well enough it wasn't +honest; but he hadn't got my word. Father had brought me up careful +and kind, and I knew my duty to my parents, and I meant to do it, +too. But I couldn't help thinking I owed a little bit of a duty to +William, and I meant doing that, so far as keeping my promise to +meet him that afternoon went. So after tea I says, and I do think it +is almost the only lie I ever told-- + +'Mother,' I says, 'I've got the jumping toothache, and it's that bad +I can hardly see to thread my needle.' + +Then she says, as I knew she would, her being as kind an old soul as +ever trod: 'Go and lie down a bit and put the old sheepskin coat +over your head, and I'll get on with the darning.' + +So I went upstairs trembling all over. I took the bolster and pillow +and put them under the covers, to look as like me as I could, and I +put the old sheepskin coat at the top of all; and as you come into +the room any one would have thought it was me lying there with the +toothache. Then I took my hat and shawl and I went out, quiet as a +mouse, through the dairy. When I got to the Parson's Shave there was +William, and I was so glad to see him, I didn't think of nothing +else for full half a minute. Then William said-- + +'It's only one field to the church. Why not go up there and sit in +the porch? See, it's coming on to rain.' + +So he took my arm, and we started across the field, where all the +days of the year but one you would not meet a soul. We went up +through the churchyard. It was 'most dark, but I wasn't a bit afraid +with William's arm round me. But when we got to the porch and had +sat down, I was sorry I'd come, for I heard feet on the road below, +and they stopped outside the lychgate. + +'Come, quick,' says I, 'or we're caught like rats in a trap. If I am +going to give you up to please father, I may as well please him all +round. There's no reason why he should know I've seen you.' + +'So we stole on our tiptoes round to the little door that is hardly +ever fastened, and so through to the tower. Father being one of the +bellringers, I knew every step. There's a stone seat cut out of the +wall in the bellringers' loft, and there we sat down again, and I +was just going to tell him again what I had said in the letter about +being his sister and a friend, which seemed to comfort me somehow, +though William has told me since it never would have him, when +William, he gripped my hand like iron, and ''S-sh!' says he, +'listen.' And I listened, and oh! what I felt when I heard footsteps +coming up the tower. I didn't dare speak a word to him, and only +kept tight hold of his hand, and pulled him along till we got to the +tower steps, and went on up. But I says to myself, 'Oh, what's my +head made of, to forget that it's practising night? and Him the +church was built for only knows how long they won't be here +practising!' We went on up the twisted cobwebby stairs, with bits of +broken birds' nests that crackled under our feet that loud I thought +for sure the folks below must hear us; and we got into the belfry, +and there William was for staying, but I whispered to him-- + +'If you hear them bells when they're all a-going, you won't never +hear much else. We must get on up out of it unless we want to be +deaf the rest of our lives.' + +And it was pitch dark in the belfry, except for the little grey +slits where the shuttered windows are. The owls and starlings were +frightened, I suppose, at hearing us, though why they should have +been, I don't know, being used to the bells; and they flew about +round us liker ghosts than anything feathered, and one great owl +flopped out right into my face, till I nearly screamed again. It was +all very, very dusty, and not being able to see, and being afraid to +strike a light, we had to feel along the big beams for our way +between the bells, I going first, because I knew the way, and +reaching back a hand every now and then to see that William was +coming after me safe and sound. On hands and knees we had to go for +safety, and all the while I was dreading they would start the bells +a-going and, maybe, shake William, who wasn't as used to it as I +was, off the beams, and him perhaps be smashed to pieces by the +bells as they swung. + +I don't know how long it took us to get across the belfry to the +corner where the ladder is that leads up to the tower-top. William +says it must have been about a couple of minutes, but I think it was +much more like half an hour. I thought we should never get there, +and oh! what it was to me when I came to the end of the last beam, +and got my foot down on the firm floor again, and the ladder in my +hand, and William behind me! So up we went, me first again, because +I knew the way and the fastenings of the door. And that part of it +wasn't so bad, for I will say, if you've got to go up a long ladder, +it's better to go up in the dark, when you can't see what's below +you if you happen to slip; and I got up and opened the door, and it +was light out of doors and fresh with the rain--though that had +stopped now. + +Then William would take his coat off, and put it round me, for all I +begged him not, and presently the tower began to shake and the bells +began, and directly they began I knew what they was up to. + +'O William,' I says, 'it's Grandsire Triples, and there's five +thousand and fifty changes to 'em, and it's a matter of three +hours!' + +But he couldn't hear a word I said for the bells. So then I took his +coat and my shawl, and we wrapped them round both our heads to shut +the bells out, and then we could hear each other speak inside. + +I'm not going to write down all I said nor all he said, which was +only foolishness--and besides, it come to nothing after all. But +somehow the time wasn't long; and it's a funny thing, but unhappy +and happy you can be at the same time when you are with one you love +and are going to leave. William, he begged and prayed of me not to +give him up. But I said I knew my duty, and he said he hoped I would +think better of it, and I said, 'No, never,' and then we kissed each +other again, and the bells went on, and on, and on, clingle, +clangle, clingle, chim, chime, chim, chime, till I was 'most dazed, +and felt as if I had lived up there all my life, and was going to +live up there twenty lives longer. + +'I'll wait for you all my life long,' says William. 'Not that I wish +the old man any harm, but it's not in the nature of things your +father can live for ever, and then--' + +'It ain't no use thinking of that, William,' said I. 'Father is sure +to make me promise never to have you--when he's dying, and I can't +refuse him anything. It's just the kind of thing he'd think of.' + +Perhaps you will think William ought to have made more stand, for +everybody likes a masterful man; but what stand can you make when +you are up in a belfry with the bells shouting and yelling at you, +and when the girl you are with won't listen to reason? And you have +no idea what them bells were. Often and often since then I have +started up in the bed thinking I heard them again. It was enough to +drive one distracted. + +'Well,' says William, 'you'll give me up, but I'll never give you +up; and you mark my words, you and me will be man and wife some +day.' + +And as he said it, the bells stopped sudden in the middle of a +change. The rain had come on again. It was very chill up there. My +teeth was chattering, and so was William's, though he pretended he +did it for the joke. + +'Let's get inside again,' says he. 'Perhaps they are going home, and +if they are not, we can stay there till they begin it again.' + +So we opened the door and crept down the ladder. There was light now +coming up from the bellringers' loft through the holes in the floor, +and we got down to the belfry easy, and as we got to the bottom of +the ladder I heard my father's voice in the loft below-- + +'I don't believe it,' he was shouting. 'It can't be true. She's a +God-fearing girl.' + +And then I heard my mother. 'Come home, James,' she said, 'come +home--it's true. I told you you was too hard on them. Young folks +will be young folks, and now, perhaps, our little girl has come to +shame instead of being married decent, as she might have been, +though Roman.' + +Then there was silence for a bit, and then my father says, speaking +softer, 'Tell me again. I can't think but what I'm dreaming.' + +Then mother says--'Don't I tell you she said she'd got the +toothache, and she was going to lie down a bit, and I went to take +her up some camomiles I'd been hotting, and she wasn't there, and +her bolsters and pillows, poor lamb, made up to pretend she was, and +Johnson's Ben, he see her along of William Birt by the Parson's +Shave with his arm round her--God forgive them both!' + +Then says my father, 'Here's an end on't. She's no daughter o' mine. +If she was to come back to me, I'd turn her out of doors. Don't let +any one name her name to me never no more. I hain't got no +daughter,' he said, 'and may the Lord--' + +I think my mother put her hands afore his mouth, for he stopped +short, and mother, she said-- + +'Don't curse them, James. You'll be sorry for it, and they'll have +trouble enough without that.' + +And with that father and mother must have gone away, and the other +ringers stood talking a bit. + +'She'd best not come back,' said the leader, John Evans. 'Out +a-gallivanting with a young chap from five to eight as I understand! +What's the good of coming back? She's lost her character, and a gal +without a character, she's like--like--' + +'Like a public-house without a licence,' said the second ringer. + +'Or a cart without a horse,' said the treble. + +There was only one man spoke up for me--that was Jim Piper at the +general shop. 'I don't believe no harm of that gal,' says he, 'no +more nor I would of my own missus, nor yet of him.' + +'Well, let's hope for the best,' said the others. But I had a sort +of feeling they was hoping for the worst, because when things goes +wrong, it's always more amusing for the lookers-on than when +everything goes right. Presently they went clattering down the +steps, and all was dark, and there was me and William among the +cobwebs and the owls, holding each other's hands, and as cold as +stone, both of us. + +'Well?' says William, when everything was quiet again. + +'Well!' says I. 'Good-bye, William. He won't be as hard as his word, +and if I couldn't give you all my life to be a good wife to you, I +have given you my character, it seems; not willing, it's true; but +there's nothing I should grudge you, William, and I don't regret it, +and good-bye.' + +But he held my hands tight. + +'Good-bye, William,' I says again. 'I'm going. I'm going home.' + +'Yes, my girl,' says he, 'you are going home; you're going home with +me to my mother.' And he was masterful enough then, I can tell you. +'If your father would throw you off without knowing the rights or +wrongs of the story, it's not for him you should be giving up your +happiness and mine, my girl. Come home to my mother, and let me see +the man who dares to say anything against my wife.' + +And whether it was father's being so hard and saying what he did +about me before all those men, or whether it was me knowing that +mother had stood up for us secret all the time, or whether it was +because I loved William so much, or because he loved me so much, I +don't know. But I didn't say another word, only began to cry, and we +got downstairs and straight home to William's mother, and we told +her all about it; and we was cried in church next Sunday, and I +stayed with the old lady until we was married, and many a year +after; and a good mother she was to me, though only in law, and a +good granny to our children when they come. And I wasn't so unhappy +as you may think, because mother come to see me directly, and she +was at our wedding; and father, he didn't say anything to prevent +her going. + +When I was churched after my first, and the boy was christened--in +our own church, for I had made William promise it should be so if +ever we had any--mother was there, and she said to me: 'Take the +child,' she said, 'and go to your father at home; and when he sees +the child, he'll come round, I'll lay a crown; for his bark,' she +says, 'was allus worse than his bite.' + +And I did so, and the pears was hard and red on the wall as they was +the night William climbed up to my window, and I went into the +kitchen, and there was father sitting in his big chair, and the +Bible on the table in front of him, with his spectacles; but he +wasn't reading, and if it had been any one else but father, I should +have said he had been crying. And so I went in, and I showed him the +baby, and I said-- + +'Look, father, here's our little baby; and he's named James, for +you, father, and christened in church the same as I was. And now I +have got a child of my own,' says I, for he didn't speak, 'dear +father, I know what it is to have a child of your own go against +your wishes, and please God mine never will--or against yours +either. But I couldn't help it, and O father, do forgive me!' + +And he didn't say anything, but he kissed the boy, and he kissed him +again. And presently he says-- + +'It's 'most time your mother was home from church. Won't you be +setting the tea, Kate?' + +So I give him the baby to hold, for I knew everything was all right +betwixt us. + +And all the children have been christened in the church. But I think +when father is taken from us--which in the nature of things he must +be, though long may it be first!--I think I shall be a Roman +Catholic too; for it doesn't seem to me to matter much one way or +the other, and it would please William very much, and I am sure it +wouldn't hurt me. And what's the good of being married to the best +man in the world if you can't do a little thing like that to please +him? + + + + + + +A DEATH-BED CONFESSION + + + + + +AND so you think I shall go to heaven when I die, sir! And why? +Because I have spent my time and what bits of money I've had in +looking after the poor in this parish! And I would do it again if I +had my time to come over again; but it will take more than that to +wipe out my sins, and God forgive me if I can't always believe that +even His mercy will be equal to it. You're a clergyman, and you +ought to know. I think sometimes the black heart in me, that started +me on that deed, must have come from the devil, and that I am his +child after all, and shall go back to him at the last. Don't look so +shocked, sir. That's not what I really believe; it's only what I +sometimes fear I ought to believe, when I wake up in the chill night +and think things over, lying here alone. + +To see me old and prim, with my cap and little checked shawl, you'd +never think that I was once one of the two prettiest girls on all +the South Downs. But I was, and my cousin Lilian was the other. We +lived at Whitecroft together at our uncle's. He was a well-to-do +farmer, as well-to-do as a farmer could be in such times as those, +and on such land as that. + +Whenever I hear people say 'home,' it's Whitecroft I think of, with +its narrow windows and thatch roof and the farm-buildings about it, +and the bits of trees all bent one way with the wind from the sea. + +Whitecroft stands on a shoulder of the Downs, and on a clear day you +can see right out to sea and over the hollow where Felscombe lies +cuddled down close and warm, with its elms and its church, and its +bright bits of gardens. They are sheltered from the sea wind down +there, but there's nothing to break the wing of it as it rolls +across the Downs on to Whitecroft; and of a night Lilian and I used +to lie and listen to the wind banging the windows, and know that the +chimneys were rocking over our heads, and feel the house move to and +fro with the strength of the wind like as if it was the swing of a +cradle. + +Lilian and I had come there, little things, and uncle had brought us +up together, and we loved each other like sisters until that +happened, and this is the first time I have told a human soul about +it; and if being sorry can pay for things--well, but I'm afraid +there are some things nothing can pay for. + +It was one wild windy night, when, if you should open the door an +inch, everything in the house jarred and rattled. We were sitting +round the fire, uncle and Lilian and me, us with our knitting and +him asleep in his newspaper, and nobody could have gone to sleep +with a wind like that but a man who has been bred and born at sea, +or on the South Downs. + +Lilian and I were talking over our new winter dresses, when there +come a knock at the side door, not nigh so loud as some of the +noises the wind made, but not being used to it, uncle sat up, wide +awake, and said, 'Hark!' In a minute it come again, and then I went +to the door and opened it a bit. There was some one outside who +began to speak as soon as he saw the light, but I could not hear +what he said for the roaring of the wind, and the cracking of the +trees outside. + +'Shut that door!' uncle shouted from the parlour. 'Let the dog in, +whatever he is, and let him tell his tale this side the oak.' + +So I let him in and shut the door after him, and I had better have +shut to the lid of my own coffin after me. + +Him that I let in was dripping wet, and all spent with fighting the +wind on these Downs, where it is like a lion roaring for its prey, +and will go nigh to kill you, if you fight it long enough. He leaned +against the wall and said-- + +'I have lost my way, and I have had a nasty fall. I think there is +something wrong with my arm--hollow--slip--light--hospitality beg +your pardon, I'm sure,' and with that he fainted dead off on the +cocoanut matting at my feet. + +Uncle came out when I screamed, and we got the stranger in and put +him on the big couch by the fire. Uncle was nursing up with one of +his bad attacks of bronchitis, the same thing that carried him off +in the end, and the first thing he said when he'd felt the poor +chap's arm down was-- + +'This is a bad break. Which of you girls will go and wake one of the +waggoners to fetch Doctor from Felscombe?' + +'I will,' I said. + +But before I went I got out the port wine and the brandy, and bade +Lilian rub his hands a bit, and be sure she didn't let him see her +looking frightened when he come to. + +Why did I do that? Because the Lord made me to be a fool--giving him +her pretty face to be the first thing he looked at when he come to +after that long, dreary spell on the Downs, and that black journey +into the strange place where people go to when they faint. + +But everything that there was of me ached to be of some use to him. +So I went, and once outside the door it seemed easier to take Brown +Bess and go myself to Felscombe than to rouse the waggoners, who +were but sleepy and slow-headed at the best of times. So I saddled +Brown Bess myself and started. + +It was but a small way across the Downs that I had to lead her, it +being almost as much as both of us could do to keep our feet in the +fury of the wind. Then you go down the steep hill into the village, +and as soon as we had passed the brow, it was easy and I mounted. I +was down there in less time than it would have taken to rouse one of +those heavy-headed carters; and Doctor, he come back with me, +walking beside Brown Bess with his hand on her bridle, he not being +by any means loth to come out such a night, because, forsooth, it +was me that fetched him. Oh yes! I might have married him if I had +wanted to, and more than one better man than him; but that's neither +here nor there. + +When we got in, we found Lilian kneeling by the sofa rubbing the +young man's hands as I had told her to, and his eyes were open, and +there was a bit of colour in his cheek, and he was looking at her +like as any one but a fool might have known he would look; and the +Doctor, he saw it too, and looked at me and grinned; and if I had +been God, that grin should have been his last. No, I don't mean to +be irreverent, but it's true, all the same. + +Well, the arm was set, and when he was a bit easier we settled round +the fire, and he told us that his name was Edgar Linley, and he was +an artist, and had been painting the angry sunset that had come +before that night's storm, and got caught in the dusk and so lost +his way, as many do on our Downs at home, some not so lucky as him +to see a light and get to it. + +This Mr. Linley had a way with him like no other man I ever see; not +only a way to please women with, but men too. I never saw my uncle +so taken up with anybody; and the long and the short of it was that +he stayed there a month, and we nursed him; and at the end of the +month I knew no more than I had known that evening when I had seen +him looking at Lilian; but he and Lilian, they had learned a deal in +that time. + +And one evening I was at my bedroom window, and I see them coming up +the path in the red light of the evening, walking very close +together, and I went down very quick to the parlour, where uncle was +just come in to his tea and taking his big boots off, and I sat down +there, for I wanted to hear how they'd say it, though I knew well +enough what they had got to say. And they came in and he says, very +frank and cheery-- + +'Mr. Verinder,' he says, 'Lilian and I have made up our minds to +take each other, with your consent, for better, for worse.' + +And uncle was as pleased as Punch; and as for me, I didn't believe +in God then, or I should have prayed Him to strike them both down +dead as they stood. + +Why did I hate them so? And you call yourself a man and a parson, +and one that knows the heart of man! Why did I hate them? Because I +loved him as no woman will ever love you, sir, if you'll pardon me +being so bold, if you live to be a thousand. + +He would have understood all about everything with half what I have +been telling you. As it is, I sometimes think that he understood, +for he was very gentle with me and kind, not making too much of +Lilian when I was by, yet never with a look or a word that wasn't +the look and the word of her good, true lover; and she was very +happy, for she loved him as much as that blue-and-white teacup kind +of woman can love; and that's more than I thought for at the time. + +He was an orphan, and well off, and there was nothing to wait for, +so the wedding was fixed for early in the new year; and I sewed at +her new clothes with a marrow of lead in every bone of my fingers. + +A truly understanding person might get some meaning out of my words +when I say that I loved her in my heart all the time that I was +hating her; and the devil himself must have sent out my soul and +made use of the rest of me on that night I shall tell you about +presently. + +It was in the sharp, short, frosty days that brought in Christmas +that uncle came home one day from Lewes, looking thunder black, with +an eye like fire and a mouth like stone. And he walked straight into +the kitchen where we three were making toast for tea, for Edgar was +one of us by this time, and lent a hand at all such little things as +young folks can be merry over together. And uncle says-- + +'Leave my house, young man; it's an honest house and a clean, and no +fit place for a sinful swine. Get out,' he says, '"For without are +dogs--"' + +With that he went on with a long text of Revelation that I won't +repeat to you, sir, for I know your ears are nice, and it's out of +one of the plainest-spoken parts of the Bible. Edgar turned as white +as a sheet. + +'I swear to God,' he said, 'I wasn't to blame. I know what you have +heard, but if I can't whiten myself without blacking a woman + +I'll live and die as black as hell,' he says. 'But I don't need +whitening with those that love me,' he says, looking at Lilian and +then at me--oh! yes, he looked at me then. + +I said, 'No, indeed,' and so did Lilian; but she began to cry, and +before we had time to think what it was all about, he had taken his +hat and kissed Lilian and was gone. But he turned back at the door +again. + +'I'll write to you,' he says to Lilian, 'but I don't cross this door +again till those words are unsaid,' and so he was gone. + +Him being gone, uncle told us what he had heard in Lewes, and what +all folks there believed to be the truth; how young Edgar had +carried on, as men may not, with a young married woman, the grocer's +wife where he lodged, the end of it being that she drowned herself +in a pond near by, leaving as her last word that he was the cause of +it; and so he may have been, but not the way my uncle and the folk +at Lewes thought, I'll stake my soul. God makes His troubles in +dozens; He don't make a new patterned one for every back. I wasn't +the only woman who ever loved Edgar Linley without encouragement and +without hope, and risked her soul because she was mad with loving +him. + +But when uncle had told us all this with a black look on his face I +never had seen before, he said-- + +'Girls, I have always been a clean liver, and I have brought you up +in the fear of the Lord. I don't want to judge any man, and Lilian +is of age and her own mistress. It's not for me to say what she +shall or shan't do, but if she marries that scoundrel, she has my +curse here and hereafter, and not one penny of my money, if it was +to save her from the workhouse.' + +After that we were sad enough at Whitecroft. But in two days come a +letter from Edgar to Lilian; and when she had read it, she looked at +me and said, 'O Isabel, whatever shall I do? I never can marry +without dear uncle's consent,' and I turned and went from her +without a word, because I couldn't bear to see her arguing and +considering what to do, when the best thing in the world was to her +hand for the taking. + +All the next week she cried all day and most of the night. Then +uncle went to London, my belief being it was to alter his will, so +that if Lilian married Edgar, she should feel it in her pocket, +anyhow, and he was to stay all night, and the farm servants slept +out of the house, and we were without a maid at the time. So Lilian +and me were left alone at Whitecroft. + +Lilian and I didn't sleep in one room now. I had made some excuse to +sleep on the other side of the house, because I couldn't bear to +wake up of mornings and see her lying there so pretty, looking like +a lily in her white nightgown and her fair hair all tumbled about +her face. It was more than any woman could have borne to see her +lying there, and think that early in the new year it was him that +would see her lying like that of a morning. + +And that night the place seemed very quiet and empty, as if there +was more room in it for being unhappy in. When Lilian had taken her +candle and gone up to bed, I walked through all the rooms below, as +uncle's habit was, to see that all was fast for the night. It was as +I set the bolt on the door of the little lean-to shed, where the +faggots were kept, that the devil entered into me all in a breath; +and I thought of Lilian upstairs in her white bed, and of how the +day must come, when he would see how pretty she looked and white, +and I said to myself, 'No, it never shall, not if I burn for it +too.' + +I hope you are understanding me. I sometimes think there is +something done to folks when they are learning to be parsons as +takes out of them a part of a natural person's understandingness; +and I would rather have told the doctor, but then he couldn't have +told me whether these are the kind of things Christ died to make His +Father forgive, and I suppose you can. + +What I did was this. I clean forgot all about uncle and how fond I +was of Whitecroft, and how much I had always loved Lilian (and I +loved her then, though I know you can't understand me when I say +so), and I took all them faggots, dragging them across the sanded +floor of the kitchen, and I put them in the parlour in the little +wing to the left, and just under Lilian's bedroom, and I laid them +under the wooden corner cupboard where the best china is, and then I +poured oil and brandy all over, and set it alight. + +Then I put on my hat and jacket, buttoning it all the way down, as +quiet as if I was going down to the village for a pound of candles. +And I made sure all was burning free, and out of the front door I +went and up on to the Downs, and there I set me down under the wall +where I could see Whitecroft. + +And I watched to see the old place burn down; and at first there was +no light to be seen. + +But presently I see the parlour windows get redder and redder, and +soon I knew the curtains had caught, and then there was a light in +Lilian's bedroom. I see the bars of the window as you do in the +ruined mill when the sun is setting behind it; and the light got +more and more, till I see the stone above the front door that tells +how it was builded by one of our name this long time since; and at +that, as sudden as he had come, the devil left me, and I knew all in +a minute that I was crouched against a wall, very cold, and my hands +hooked into my hair over my ears, and my knees drawn up under my +chin; and there was the old house on fire, the dear old house, with +Lilian inside it in her little white bed, being burnt to death, and +me her murderer! And with that I got up, and I remember I was stiff, +as if I had been screwing myself all close together to keep from +knowing what it was I had been a-doing. I ran down the meadow to our +house faster than I ever ran in my life, in at the door, and up the +stairs, all blue and black, and hidden up with coppery-coloured +smoke. + +I don't know how I got up them stairs, for they were beginning to +burn too. I opened her door--all red and glowing it was inside! like +an oven when you open it to rake out the ashes on a baking-day. And +I tried to get in, because all I wanted then was to save her--to get +her out safe and sound, if I had to roast myself for it, because we +had been brought up together from little things, and I loved her +like a sister. And while I was trying to get my jacket off and round +my head, something gave way right under my feet, and I seemed to +fall straight into hell! + +I was badly burnt, and what handsomeness there was about my face was +pretty well scorched out of it by that night's work; and I didn't +know anything for a bit. + +When I come to myself, they had got me into bed bound up with +cotton-wool and oil and things. And the first thing I did was to sit +up and try to tear them off. + +'You'll kill yourself,' says the nurse. + +'Thank you,' says I, 'that's the best thing I can do, now Lilian is +dead.' + +And with that the nurse gives a laugh. 'Oh, that's what's on your +mind, is it?' says she. 'Doctor said there was something. Miss +Lilian had run away that night to her young man. Lucky for her! +She's luckier than you, poor thing! And they're married and living +in lodgings at Brighton, and she's been over to see you every day.' + +That day she came again. I lay still and let her thank me for having +tried to save her; for the farm men had seen the fire, and had come +up in time to see me go up the staircase to her room, and they had +pulled me out. She believes to this day the fire was an accident, +and that I would have sacrificed my life for her. And so I would; +she's right there. + +I wasn't going to make her unhappy by telling her the real truth, +because she was as fond of me as I was of her; and she has been as +happy as the day is long, all her life long, and so she deserves. + +And as for me, I stayed on with uncle at the farm until he died of +that bronchitis I told you of, and the little wing was built up +again, and the lichen has grown on it, so that now you could hardly +tell it is only forty years old; and he left me all his money, and +when he died, and Whitecroft went to a distant relation, I came here +to do what bits of good I could. + +And I have never told the truth about this to any one but you. I +couldn't have told it to any one as cared, but I know you don't. So +that makes it easy. + + + + + + +HER MARRIAGE LINES + +I + + + + + +I HAD never been out to service before, and I thought it a grand +thing when I got a place at Charleston Farm. Old Mr. Alderton was +close-fisted enough, and while he had the management of the farm it +was a place no girl need have wished to come to; but now Mr. +Alderton had given up farming this year or two, and young Master +Harry, he had the management of everything. Mr. Alderton, he stuck +in one room with his books, which he was always fond of above a bit, +and must needs be waited on hand and foot, only driving over to +Lewes every now and then. + +Six pounds a year I was to have, and a little something extra at +Christmas, according as I behaved myself. It was Master Harry who +engaged me. He rode up to our cottage one fine May morning, looking +as grand on his big grey horse, and says he, through the stamping +clatter of his horse's hoofs on the paved causeway-- + +'Are you Deresby's Poll?' says he. + +And I says, 'Yes; what might you be wanting?' + +'We want a good maid up at the farm,' says he, patting his horse's +neck--'Steady, old boy--and they tell me you're a good girl that +wants a good place, and ours is a good place that wants a good girl. +So if our wages suit you, when can you come?' + +And I said, 'Tuesday, if that would be convenient.' + +And he took off his hat to me as if I was a queen, though I was +floury up to the elbows, being baking-day, and rode off down the +lane between the green trees, and no king could have looked +handsomer. + +Charleston is a lonesome kind of house. It's bare and white, with +the farm buildings all round it, except on one side where the big +pond is; and lying as it does, in the cup of the hill, it seems to +shut loneliness in and good company out. + +I was to be under Mrs. Blake, who had been housekeeper there since +the old mistress died. No one knew where she came from, or what had +become of Mr. Blake, if ever there had been one. For my part I never +thought she was a widow, and always expected some day to see Mr. +Blake walk in and ask for his wife. But as a widow she came, and as +a widow she passed. + +She had just that kind of handsome, black, scowling looks that +always seem to need a lot of black jet and crape to set them +off--the kind of complexion that seems to be playing up for the +widow's weeds from the very cradle. I have heard it said she was +handsome, and so she may have been; and she took a deal of care of +her face, always wearing a veil when there was a wind, and her hands +to have gloves, if you please, for every bit of dirty work. + +But she was a capable woman, and she soon put me in the way of my +work; and me and Betty, who was a little girl of fourteen from +Alfreston, had most of the housework to do, for Mrs. Blake would let +none of us do a hand's-turn for the old master. It was she must do +everything, and as he got more and more took up with his books there +come to be more and more waiting on him in his own room; and after a +bit Mrs. Blake used even to sit and write for him by the hour +together. + +I have heard tell old Mr. Alderton wasn't brought up to be a farmer, +but was a scholar when he was young, and had to go into farming when +he married Hakes's daughter as brought the farm with her; and now he +had gone back to his books he was more than ever took up with the +idea of finding something out--making something new that no one had +ever made before--his invention, he called it, but I never +understood what it was all about--and indeed Mrs. Blake took very +good care I shouldn't. + +She wanted no one to know anything about the master except +herself--at least that was my opinion--and if that was her wish she +certainly got it. + +It was hard work, but I'm not one to grudge a hand's-turn here or a +hand's-turn there, and I was happy enough; and when the men came in +for their meals I always had everything smoking hot, and just as I +should wish to sit down to it myself: And when the men come in, +Master Harry always come in with them, and he'd say, 'Bacon and +greens again, Polly, and done to a turn, I'll wager. You're the girl +for my money!' and sit down laughing to a smoking plateful. + +And so I was quite happy, and with my first six months' money I got +father a new pipe and a comforter agin the winter, and as pretty a +shepherd's plaid shawl as ever you see for mother, and a knitted +waistcoat for my brother Jim, as had wanted one this two year, and +had enough left to buy myself a bonnet and gown that I didn't feel +ashamed to sit in church in under Master Harry's own blue eye. Mrs. +Blake looked very sour when she saw my new things. + +'You think to catch a young man with those,' says she. 'You gells is +all alike. But it isn't fine feathers as catches a husband, as they +say. Don't you believe it.' + +And I said, 'No; a husband as was caught so easy might be as easy +got rid of, which was convenient sometimes.' + +And we come nigh to having words about it. + +That was the day before old master went off to London unexpected. +When Mrs. Blake heard he was going, she said she would take the +opportunity of his being away to make so bold as to ask him for a +day's holiday to go and visit her friends in Ashford. So she and +master went in the trap to the station together, and off by the same +train; and curious enough, it was by the same train in the evening +they come back, and I thought to myself, 'That's like your +artfulness, Mrs. Blake, getting a lift both ways.' + +And I wondered to myself whether her friends in Ashford, supposing +she had any, was as glad to see her as we was glad to get rid of +her. + +That's a day I shall always remember, for other things than her and +master going away. + +That was the day Betty and I got done early, and she wanted to run +home to her mother to see about her clean changes for Sunday, which +hadn't come according to expectations. + +So I said, 'Off you go, child, and mind you're back by tea,' and I +sat down in the clean kitchen to do up my old Sunday bonnet and make +it fit for everyday. + +And as I was sitting there, with the bits of ribbons and things in +my lap, unpicking the lining of the bonnet, I heard the back door +open, and thinking it was one of the men bringing in wood, maybe, I +didn't turn my head, and next minute there was Master Harry had got +his hand under my chin and holding my head back, and was kissing me +as if he never meant to stop. + +'Lor bless you, Master Harry,' says I, as soon as I could push him +away, dropping all the ribbons and scissors and things in my flurry, +'how could you fashion to behave so? And me alone in the house! I +thought you had better sense.' + +'Don't be cross, Polly,' says he, smiling at me till I could have +forgiven him much more than that, and going down on his knees to +pick up my bits of rubbish. 'You know well enough who my choice is. +I haven't lived in the house with you six months without finding out +there's only one girl as I should like to keep my house to the end +of the chapter.' + +He had that took me by surprise that I give you my word that for a +minute or two I couldn't say anything, but sat looking like a fool +and taking the ribbons and things from his hands as he picked them +up. + +When I come to my senses I said, 'I don't know what maggot has bit +you, sir, to think of such nonsense. What would the master say, and +Mrs. Blake and all?' + +Well, he got up off his knees and walked up and down the kitchen +twice in a pretty fume, and he said a bad word about what Mrs. Blake +might say that I'm not going to write down here. + +'And as for my father,' says he, 'I know he's ideas above what's +fitting for farmer folk, but I know best what's the right choice for +me, and if you won't mind me not telling him, and will wait for me +patient, and will give me a kind word and a kiss on a Sunday, so to +say, you and me will be happy together, and you shall be mistress of +the farm when the poor old dad's time comes to go. Not that I wish +his time nearer by an hour, for all I love you so dear, Polly.' + +And I hope I did what was right, though it was with a sore heart, +for I said-- + +'I couldn't stay on in your folks' house to have secret +understandings with you, Master Harry. That ain't to be thought of. +But I do say this--'tain't likely that I shall marry any other chap; +and if, when you come to be master of Charleston, you are in the +same mind, why you can speak your mind to me again, and I'll listen +to you then with a freer heart, maybe, than I can to-day.' + +And with that I bundled all my odds and ends into the dresser +drawer, and took the kettle off, which was a-boiling over. + +'And now,' I says, 'no more of this talk, if you and me is to keep +friends.' + +'Shake hands on it,' says he; 'you're a good girl, Polly, and I see +more than ever what a lucky man I shall be the day I go to church +with you; and I'll not say another word till I can say it afore all +the world, with you to answer "Yes" for all the world to hear.' + +So that was settled, and, of course, from that time I kept myself +more than ever to myself, not even passing the time of day with a +young man if I could help it, because I wanted to keep all my +thoughts and all my words for Master Harry, if he should ever want +me again. + +II + +Well, as I said, old Master and Mrs. Blake come back together from +the station, and from that day forward Mrs. Blake was unbearabler +than ever. And one day when Mr. Sigglesfield, the lawyer from Lewes, +was in the parlour, she a-talking to him after he'd been up to see +master (about his will, no doubt), she opened the parlour door sharp +and sudden just as I was bringing the tea for her to have it with +him like a lady--she opened the door sudden, as I say, and boxed my +ears as I stood, and I should have dropped the tea-tray but for me +being brought up a careful girl, and taught always to hold on to the +tea-tray with all my fingers. + +I'm proud to say I didn't say a word, but I put down that tea-tray +and walked into the kitchen with my ear as hot as fire and my temper +to match, which was no wonder and no disgrace. Then she come into +the kitchen. + +'You go this day month, Miss,' she says, 'a-listening at doors when +your betters is a-talking. I'll teach you!' says she, and back she +goes into the parlour. + +But I took no notice of what she said, for Master Harry, he hired +me, and I would take no notice from any one but him. + +Mr. Sigglesfield was a-coming pretty often just then, and Harry he +come to me one day, and he says-- + +'It's all right, Polly, and I must tell you because you're the same +as myself, though I don't like to talk as if we was waiting for dead +men's shoes. Long may he wear them! But father's told me he has left +everything to me, right and safe, though I am the second son. My +brother John never did get on with father, but when all's mine, +we'll see that John don't starve.' + +And that day week old master was a corpse. + +He was found dead in his bed, and the doctor said it was old age and +a sudden breaking up. + +Mrs. Blake she cried and took on fearful, more than was right or +natural, and when the will was to be read in the parlour after the +funeral she come into the kitchen where I was sitting crying +too--not that I was fond of old master, but the kind of crying there +is at funerals is catching, I think, and besides, I was sorry for +Master Harry, who was a good son, and quite broken down. + +'You can come and hear the will read,' she says, 'for all your +impudence, you hussy!' + +And I don't know why I went in after her impudence, but I did. Mr. +Sigglesfield was there, and some of the relations, who had come a +long way to hear if they was to pull anything out of the fire; and +Master Harry was there, looking very pale through all his +sun-brownness. And says he, 'I suppose the will's got to be read, +but my father, he told me what I was to expect. It's all to me, and +one hundred to Mrs. Blake, and five pounds apiece to the servants.' + +And Mr. Sigglesfield looks at him out of his ferret eyes, and says +very quietly, 'I think the will had better be read, Mr. Alderton.' + +'So I think,' says Mrs. Blake, tossing her head and rubbing her red +eyes with her handkerchief at the same minute almost. + +And read it was, and all us people sat still as mice, listening to +the wonderful tale of it. For wonderful it was, though folded up +very curious and careful in a pack of lawyer's talk. And when it was +finished, Master Harry stood up on his feet, and he said-- + +'I don't understand your cursed lawyer's lingo. Does this mean that +my father has left me fifty pounds, and has left the rest, stock, +lock and barrel, to his wife Martha. Who in hell,' he says, 'is his +wife Martha?' + +And at that Mrs. Blake stood up and fetched a curtsy to the company. + +'That's me,' she said, 'by your leave; married two months come +Tuesday, and here's my lines.' + +And there they were. There was no getting over them. Married at St. +Mary Woolnoth, in London, by special licence. + +'O you wicked old Jezebel!' says Master Harry, shaking his fist at +her; 'here's a fine end for a young man's hopes! Is it true?' says +he, turning to the lawyer. And Mr. Sigglesfield shakes his head and +says-- + +'I am afraid so, my poor fellow.' + +'Jezebel, indeed!' cries Mrs. Blake. 'Out of my house, my young +gamecock! Get out and crow on your own dunghill, if you can find +one.' + +And Harry turned and went without a word. Then I slipped out too, +and I snatched my old bonnet and shawl off their peg in the kitchen, +and I ran down the lane after him. + +'Harry,' says I, and he turned and looked at me like something +that's hunted looks when it gets in a corner and turns on you. Then +I got up with him and caught hold of his arm with both my hands. +'Never mind the dirty money,' says I. 'What's a bit of money,' I +says--'what is it, my dear, compared with true love? I'll work my +fingers to the bone for you,' says I, 'and we're better off than her +when all's said and done.' + +'So we are, my girl,' says he; and the savage look went out of his +face, and he kissed me for the second time. + +Then we went home, arm-under-arm, to my mother's, and we told father +and mother all about it; and mother made Harry up a bit of a bed on +the settle, and he stayed with us till he could pull himself +together and see what was best to be done. + +III + +Of course, our first thought was, 'Was she really married?' And it +was settled betwixt us that Harry should go up to London to the +church named in her marriage lines and see if it was a real marriage +or a make-up, like what you read of in the weekly papers. And Harry +went up, I settling to go the same day to fetch my clothes from +Charleston. + +So as soon as I had seen him off by the train, I walked up to +Charleston, and father with me, to fetch my things. + +Mrs. Blake--for Mrs. Alderton I can't and won't call her--was out, +and I was able to get my bits of things together comfortable without +her fussing and interfering. But there was a pair of scissors of +mine I couldn't find, and I looked for them high and low till I +remembered that I had lent them to Mrs. Blake the week before. So I +went to her room to look for them, thinking no harm; and there, +looking in her corner cupboard for my scissors, as I had a right to +do, I found something else that I hadn't been looking for; and, +right or wrong, I put that in my pocket and said nothing to father, +and so we went home and sat down to wait for Harry. + +He came in by the last train, looking tired and gloomy. + +'They were married right enough,' he said. 'I've seen the register, +and I've seen the clerk, and he remembers them being married.' + +'Then you'd better have a bit of supper, my boy,' says mother, and +takes it smoking hot out of the oven. + +The next day when I had cleared away breakfast, I stood looking into +the street. It was a cold day, and a day when nobody would be out of +doors that could anyways be in. I shouldn't have had my nose out of +the door myself, except that I wanted to turn my back on other folks +now, and think of what I had found at Charleston, for I hadn't even +told Harry of it yet. + +And as I sat there, who should come along but the postman, as is my +second cousin by the mother's side, and, 'Well, Polly,' says he, +'times do change. They tell me young Alderton is biding with your +folks now.' + +'They tell you true for once,' says I. + +'Then 'tain't worth my while to be trapesing that mile and a quarter +to leave a letter at the farm, I take it, especially as it's a +registered letter, and him not there to sign for it.' + +So I calls Harry out, who was smoking a pipe in the chimney-corner, +as humped and gloomy as a fowl on a wet day, and he was as surprised +as me at getting a letter with a London postmark, and registered +too; and he was that surprised that he kept turning it over and +over, and wondering who it could have come from, till we thought it +would be the best way to open and see, and we did. + +'Well, I'm blowed!' says Harry; and then he read it out to me. It +was-- + +'MY DEAR BROTHER,--I have seen in the papers the melancholy account +of our poor father's decease, and the disastrous circumstances of +his second marriage; and the more I have thought of it, the more it +seems to me that there was a screw loose somewhere. I had the +misfortune, as you know, to offend him by my choice of a profession; +but you will be glad to hear that I have risen from P.C. to +detective-sergeant, and am doing well. + +'I have made a few inquiries about the movements of our lamented +father and Mrs. Blake on the day when they were united, and if the +same will be agreeable to you, I will come down Sunday morning and +talk matters over with you.--I remain, my dear brother, your +affectionate brother, + +JOHN. '_P.S._ I shall register the letter to make sure. Telegraph if +you would like me to come.' + +Well, we telegraphed, though mother doesn't hold with such things, +looking on it as flying in the face of Providence and what's +natural. But we got it all in, with the address, for sixpence, and +Harry was as pleased as Punch to think of seeing his brother again. +But mother said she doubted if it would bring a blessing. And on the +Sunday morning John came. + +He was a very agreeable, gentlemanly man, with such manners as you +don't see in Littlington--no, nor in Polegate neither,--and very +changed from the boy with the red cheeks as used to come past our +house on his way to school when he was very little. + +Harry met him at the station and brought him home, and when he come +in he kissed me like a brother, and mother too, and he said-- + +'The best good of trouble, ma'am, is to show you who your friends +really are.' + +'Ah,' says mother, 'I doubt if all the detectives in London, asking +your pardon, Master John, can set Master Harry up in his own again. +But he's got a pair of hands, and so has my Polly, and he might have +chosen worse, though I says it.' + +Now, after dinner, when I'd cleared away, nothing would serve but I +must go out with the two of them. So we went out, and walked up on +to the Downs for quietness' sake, and it was a warm day and soft, +though November, and we leaned against a grey gate and talked it all +over. + +Then says Master John, 'Look here, Polly, we aren't to have any +secrets from you. There's no doubt they were married, but doesn't it +seem to you rather strange that my poor old father should have been +taken off so suddenly after the wedding?' + +'Yes,' I said, 'but the doctors seemed to understand all about it.' + +Then he said something about the doctors that it was just as well +they weren't there to hear, and he went on-- + +'Of course I thought at first they weren't married, so I set about +finding out what they did when they came to London; and I haven't +found out what my father did, but I did pounce on a bit of news, and +that's that she wasn't with him the whole day. They came to Charing +Cross by the same train, but he wasn't with her when she went to get +that arsenic from the chemist's.' + +'What!' says I, 'arsenic?' + +'Yes,' says John, 'don't you get excited, my dear. I found that out +by a piece of luck once as doesn't come to a man every day of the +week. A woman answering to her description went into a chemist's +shop, and the assistant gave the arsenic, a shilling's-worth it was, +to kill rats with.' + +'And God above only knows why they put such bits of fools into a +shop to sell sixpenny-worths of death over the counter,' says Harry. + +'Now the question is: Was this woman answering to her description +really Mrs. Blake or not?' + +'It was Mrs. Blake,' says I, very short and sharp. + +'How do you know?' says John, shorter and sharper. + +Then I put my hand in my pocket and pulled out what I had found in +Mrs. Blake's corner cupboard, and John took it in his hand and +looked at it, and whistled long and low. It was a little white +packet, and had been opened and the label torn across, but you could +read what was on it plain enough--'Arsenic--Poison,' and the name of +the chemist in London. + +John's face was red as fire, like some men's is when they're going +in fighting, and my Harry's as white as milk, as some other men's is +at such times. But as for me, I fell a-crying to think that any +woman could be so wicked, and him such a good master and so kind to +her, and she having the sole care of him, helpless in her hands as +the new-born babe. + +And Harry, he patted me on the back, and told me to cheer up and not +to cry, and to be a good girl; and presently, my handkerchief being +wet through, I stopped, and then John, he said-- + +'We'll bring it home to her yet, Harry, my boy. I'll get an order to +have poor old father exhumed, and the doctors shall tell us how much +of the arsenic that cursed old hag gave him.' + +IV I don't know what you have to do to get an order to open up a +grave and look at the poor dead person after it is once put away, +but, whatever it was, John knew and did it. + +We didn't tell any one except our dear old parson who buried the old +man; and he listened to all we had to say, and shook his head and +said, 'I think you are wrong--I think you are wrong,' but that was +only natural, him not liking to see his good work disturbed. But he +said he would be there. + +Now, no one was told of it, and yet it seemed as if every one for +miles round knew more than we did about it. + +Afore the day come, old Mrs. Jezebel up at the farm, she met me one +day, and she says, 'You're a pretty puss, aren't you, howking up my +poor dear deceased husband's remains before they're hardly cold? +Much good you'll do yourself. You'll end in the workhouse, my fine +miss, and I shall come to see you as a lady visitor when you're +dying.' + +I tried to get past her, but she wouldn't let me. 'I wish you joy o' +that Harry, cursed young brute!' says she. 'It serves him right, it +does, to marry a girl out of the gutter!' + +And with that--I couldn't help it--I fetched her a smack on the side +of the face with the flat of my hand as hard as I could, and bolted +off, her after me, and me being young and she stout she couldn't +keep up with me. Gutter, indeed! and my father a respectable +labourer, and known far and wide. + +There were several strangers come the day the coffin was got up. It +was a dreadful thing to me to see them digging, not to make a grave +to be filled up, but to empty one. And there were a lot of people +there I didn't know; and the parson, and another parson, seemingly a +friend of his, and every one as could get near looking on. + +They got the coffin up, and they took it to the room at the Star, at +Alfreston, where inquests are held, and the doctors were there, and +we were all shut out. And Harry and John and I stood on the stairs. +But parson, being a friend of the doctor's, he was let in, him and +his friend. And we heard voices and the squeak of the screws as they +was drawn out; and we heard the coffin lid being laid down, and then +there was a hush, and some one spoke up very sharp inside, and we +couldn't hear what he said for the noise and confusion that came +from every one speaking at once, and nineteen to the dozen it +seemed. + +'What is it?' says Harry, trembling like a leaf: 'O my God! what is +it? If they don't open the door afore long, by God, I shall burst it +open! He was murdered, he was! And if they wait much longer, that +woman will have time to get away.' + +As he spoke, the door opened and parson came out, and his friend +with him. + +'These are the young men,' says our parson. + +'Well, then,' says parson number two, 'it's a good thing I heard of +this, and came down--out of mere curiosity, I am ashamed to say--for +the man who is buried there is not the man whom I united in holy +matrimony to Martha Blake two months ago last Tuesday.' + +We didn't understand. + +'But the poison?' says Harry. + +'She may have poisoned him,' said our parson, 'though I don't think +it. But from what my friend here, the rector of St Mary Woolnoth, +tells me, it is quite certain she never married him.' + +'Then she's no right to anything?' said Harry. + +'But what about the will?' says I. But no one harkened to me. + +And then Harry says, 'If she poisoned him she will be off by now. +Parson, will you come with me to keep my hands from violence, and my +tongue from evil-speaking and slandering? for I must go home and see +if that woman is there yet.' + +And parson said he would; and it ended in us, all five of us, going +up together, the new parson walking by me and talking to me like +somebody out of the Bible, as it might be one of the disciples. + +I got to know him well afterwards, and he was the best man that ever +trod shoe-leather. + +We all went up together to Charleston Farm, and in through the back, +without knocking, and so to the parlour door. We knew she was +sitting in the parlour, because the red firelight fell out through +the window, and made a bright patch that we see before we see the +house itself properly; and we went, as I say, quietly in through the +back; and in the kitchen I said, 'Oh, let me tell her, for what she +said to me.' + +And I was sorry the minute I'd said it, when I see the way that +clergyman from London looked at me; and we all went up to the +parlour door, and Harry opened it as was his right. + +There was Mrs. Blake sitting in front of the fire. She had got on +her widow's mourning, very smart and complete, with black crape, and +her white cap; and she'd got the front of her dress folded back very +neat on her lap, and was toasting her legs, in her black-and-red +checked petticoat, and her feet in cashmere house-boots, very warm +and cosy, on the brass fender; and she had got port wine and sherry +wine in the two decanters that was never out of the glass-fronted +chiffonier when master was alive; and there was something else in a +black bottle; and opposite her, in the best arm-chair that old +master had sat in to the last, was that lawyer, Sigglesfield from +Lewes. And when we all came in, one after another, rather slow, and +bringing the cold air with us, they sat in their chairs as if they +had been struck, and looked at us. + +Harry and John was in front, as was right; and in the dusk they +could hardly see who was behind. + +'And what do you want, young men?' says Mrs. Blake, standing up in +her crape, and her white cap, and looking very handsome, Harry said +afterwards, though, for my part, I never could see it; and, as she +stood up, she caught sight of the clergyman from London, and she +shrank back into her chair and covered her face with her hands; and +the clergyman stepped into the room, none of us having the least +idea of what he was going to say, and said he-- + +'That's the woman that I married on the 7th; and that's the man I +married her to!' said he, pointing to Sigglesfield, who seemed to +turn twice as small, and his ferret eyes no better than button-hole +slits. + +'That!' said our parson; 'why, that's Mr. Sigglesfield, the +solicitor from Lewes.' + +'Then the lady opposite is Mrs. Sigglesfield, that's all,' said the +parson from London. + +'What I want to know,' says Harry, 'is--is this my house or hers? +It's plain she wasn't my father's wife. But yet he left it to her in +the will.' + +'Slowly, old boy!' said John; 'gently does it. How could he have +left anything in a will to his wife when he hadn't got any wife? +Why, that fellow there---' + +But here Mrs. Blake got on her feet, and I must say for the woman, +if she hadn't got anything else she had got pluck. + +'The game's up!' she says. 'It was well played, too, though I says +it. And you, you old fool!' she says to the parson, 'you have often +drunk tea with me, and gone away thinking how well-mannered I was, +and what a nice woman Mrs. Blake was, and how well she knew her +place, after you had chatted over half your parish with me. I know +you are the curiousest man in it, and as you and me is old friends, +I don't mind owning up just to please you. It'll save a lot of time +and a lot of money.' + +'It's my duty to warn you,' said John, 'that anything you say may be +used against you.' + +'Used against a fiddlestick end!' said Mrs. Blake. 'I married Robert +Sigglesfield in the name of William Alderton, and he sitting +trembling there, like a shrimp half boiled! He got ready the kind of +will we wanted instead of the one the old man meant, and gave it to +the old man to sign, and he signed it right enough.' + +'And what about that arsenic,' says I,--'that arsenic I found in +your corner cupboard?' + +'Oh, it was you took it, was it? You little silly, my neck's too +handsome for me to do anything to put a rope round it. Do you +suppose I've kept my complexion to my age with nothing but cold +water, you little cat?' + +'And the other will,' says Harry, 'that my father meant to sign?' + +'I'll get you that,' says Mrs. Blake. 'It's no use bearing malice +now all's said and done.' + +And she goes upstairs to get it, and, if you'll believe me, we were +fools enough to let her go; and we waited like lambs for her to come +back, which being a woman with her wits about her, and no fool, she +naturally never did; and by the time we had woke up to our seven +senses, she was far enough away, and we never saw her again. We +didn't try too much. But we had the law of that Sigglesfield, and it +was fourteen years' penal. + +And the will was never found--I expect Mrs. Blake had burnt it,--so +the farm came to John, and what else there was to Harry, according +to the terms of the will the old man had made when his wife was +alive, afore John had joined the force. And Harry and John was that +pleased to be together again that they couldn't make up their minds +to part; so they farm the place together to this day. + +And if Harry has prospered, and John too, it's no more than they +deserve, and a blessing on brotherly love, as mother says. And if my +dear children are the finest anywhere on the South Downs, that's by +the blessing of God too, I suppose, and it doesn't become me to say +so. + + + + + + +ACTING FOR THE BEST + + + + + +I HAVE no patience with people who talk that kind of nonsense about +marrying for love and the like. For my part I don't know what they +mean, and I don't believe they know it themselves. It's only a sort +of fashion of talking. I never could see what there was to like in +one young man more than another, only, of course, you might favour +some more than others if they was better to do. + +My cousin Mattie was different. She must set up to be in love, and +walk home from church with Jack Halibut Sunday after Sunday, the +long way round, if you please, through the meadows; and he used to +buy her scent and ribbons at the fair, and send her a big valentine +of lacepaper, and satin ribbons and things, though Lord knows where +he got the money from--honest, I hope--for he hadn't a penny to +bless himself with. + +When my uncle found out all this nonsense, being a man of proper +spirit, he put his foot down, and says he-- + +'Mattie, my girl, I would be the last to say anything against any +young man you fancied, especially a decent chap like young Halibut, +if his prospects was anything like as good as could be expected, but +you can't pretend poor Jack's are, him being but a blacksmith's man, +and not in regular work even. Now, let's have no waterworks,' he +went on, for Mattie had got the corner of her apron up and her mouth +screwed down at the corners. 'I've known what poverty is, my girl, +and you shan't never have a taste of it with my consent.' + +'I don't care how poor I be, father,' said Mattie, 'it's Jack I care +about.' + +'There's a girl all over,' says uncle, for he was a sensible man in +those days. 'The bit I've put by for you, lass, it's enough for one, +but it's not enough for two. And when young Halibut can show as +much, you shall be cried in church the very next Sunday. But, +meantime, there must be no kisses, no more letters, and no more +walking home from churches. Now, you give me your word--and keep it +I know you will--like an honest girl.' + +So Mattie she gave him her word, though much against her will; and +as for Jack, I suppose, man-like, he didn't care much about staying +in the village after there was a stop put to his philandering and +kissing and scent and so on. So what does he do, but he ups and offs +to America (assisted emigration) 'to make his fortune,' says he. + +And never word nor sign did we hear of him for three blessed years. +Mattie was getting quite an old maid, nigh on two-and-twenty, and I +was past nineteen, when one morning there come a letter from Jack. + +My father and mother were dead this long time, so I lived with uncle +and Mattie at the farm. What offers I had had is neither here nor +there. At any rate, whatever they were, they weren't good enough. + +But Mattie might have been married twice over if she had liked, and +to folks that would have been quite a catch to a girl like her +getting on in years. She might have had young Bath for one, the +strawberry grower; and what if he did drink a bit of a Saturday? He +was taking his hundreds of pounds to the Bank every week in canvas +bags, as all the world knew. + +But no, she must needs hanker after Jack, and that's why I say it's +such nonsense. + +Well, when the letter come, I was up to my elbows in the +jam-making--raspberry and currant it was,--and Mattie, she was down +in the garden getting the last berries off the canes. My hands were +stained up above the wrist with the currant juice, so I took the +letter up by the corner of my apron and I went down the garden with +it. + +'Mattie,' I calls out, 'here's a letter from that good-for-nothing +fellow of yours.' + +She couldn't see me, and she thought I was chaffing her about him, +which I often did, to keep things pleasant. + +'Don't tease me, Jane,' she says, 'for I do feel this morning as if +I could hardly bear myself as it is.' + +And as she said it I came out through the canes close to her with +the letter in my hand. But when she see the letter she dropped the +basket with the raspberries in it (they rolled all about on the +ground right under the peony bush, for that was a silly, +old-fashioned garden, with the flowers and fruit about it anyhow), +and I had a nice business picking them up, and she threw her arms +round my neck and kissed me, and cried like the silly little thing +she was, and thanked me for bringing the letter, just as if I had +anything to do with it, or any wish or will one way or another; and +then she opened the letter, and seemed to forget all about me while +she read it. + +I remember the sun was so bright on the white paper that I could +scarce see to read it over her shoulder, she not noticing me, nor +anything else, any more. It was like this-- + +'DEAR MATTIE,--This comes hoping to find you well, as it leaves me +at present. + +'I don't bear no malice over what your father said and done, but I'm +not coming to his house. + +'Now Mattie, if you have forgot me, or think more of some other +chap, don't let anything stand in the way of your letting me know it +straight and plain. But if you do remember how we used to walk from +church, and the valentine, and the piece of poetry about Cupid's +dart that I copied for you out of the poetry-book, you will come and +meet me in the little ash copse, you know where. I may be prevented +coming, for I've a lot of things to see to, and I am going to +Liverpool on Thursday, and if we are to be married you will have to +come to me there, for my business won't bear being left, and I must +get back to it. But if so I will put a note in your prayer-book in +the church. So you had best look in there on your way up on +Wednesday evening. + +'I am taking this way of seeing you because I don't want there to be +any unpleasantness for you if you are tired of me or like some other +chap better. + +'I mean to take a wife back with me, Mattie, for I have done well, +and can afford to keep one in better style than ever your father +kept his. Will you be her, dear? So no more at present from your +affectionate friend and lover, + +JACK HALIBUT.' + +I am quicker at reading writing than Mattie, and I had finished the +letter and was picking up the raspberries before she come to the +end, where his name was signed with all the little crosses round it. + +'Well?' says I, as she folded it up and unbuttoned two buttons of +her dress to push it inside. 'Well,' says I, 'what's the best news?' + +'He's come home again,' she says. And I give you my word she did +look like a rose as she said it. 'He's come home again, Jane, and +it's all right, and he likes me just as much as ever he did, God +bless him.' + +Not a word, you see, about his having made his fortune, which I +might never have known if I hadn't read the letter which I did, +acting for the best. Not that I think it was deceitfulness in the +girl, but a sort of fondness that always kept her from noticing +really important things. + +'And does he ask you to have him?' says I. + +'Of course he does,' she says; 'I never thought any different. I +never thought but what he would come back for me, just as he said he +would--just as he has.' + +By that I knew well enough that she had often had her doubts. + +'Oh, well!' says I, 'all's well that ends well. + +I hope he's made enough to satisfy uncle--that's all.' + +'Oh yes, I think so,' says Mattie, hardly understanding what I was +saying. 'I didn't notice particular. But I suppose that's all +right.' + +She didn't notice particular! Now, I put it to you, Was that the +sort of girl to be the wife of a man who had got on like Jack had? I +for one didn't think so. If she didn't care for money why should she +have it, when there was plenty that did? And if love in a cottage +was what she wanted, and kisses and foolishness out of poetry-books, +I suppose one man's pretty much as good as another for that sort of +thing. + +So I said, 'Come along in, dear, and we will get along with the +jam-making, and talk it all over nicely. I'm so glad he's come back. +I always say he would, if you remember.' + +Not that I ever had, but she didn't seem to know any different, +anyhow. + +The next few days Mattie was like a different girl. I will say for +her that she always did her fair share of the work, but she did it +with a face as long as a fiddle. Only now her face was all round and +dimply, and like a child's that has got a prize at school. + +On Wednesday afternoon she said to me, 'I'm going to meet Jack, and +don't you say a word to the others about it, Jane. I'll tell father +myself when I come back, if you'll get the tea like a good girl, and +just tell them I've gone up to the village.' + +'I don't tell lies as a rule, especially for other people,' I says; +'but I don't mind doing it for you this once.' + +And she kissed me (she had got mighty fond of kissing these last few +days), and ran upstairs to get ready. When she come down, if you'll +believe me, she wasn't in her best dress as any other girl would +have been, but she had gone and put on a dowdy old green and white +delaine that had been her Sunday dress, trimmed with green satin +piping, three years before, and the old hat she had with all the +flowers faded and the ribbons crumpled up, that was three year old +too, and the very one she used to walk home from church with him on +Sundays in. And her with a really good blue poplin laid by and a new +bonnet with red roses in it, only come home the week before from +Maidstone. + +She come through the kitchen where I was setting the tea, and she +took the key of the church off the nail in the wall. Our farm was +full a mile from the village, and half way between it and the +church. So we kept one key, and Jack's uncle, who was the sexton, he +had the other. + +'What time was you to meet Jack?' I says. + +'He didn't say,' said she; 'but it used to be half-past six.' + +'You're full early,' says I. + +'Yes,' she says, 'but I've got to take the butter down to Weller's, +and to call in for something first.' + +And, of course, I knew that she meant that she had to call in for +that note at the church. + +Minute she was out of the way, I runs into the kitchen, and says to +our maid-- + +'Poor Mrs. Tibson's not so well, Polly. I'm going over to see her. +Give the men their tea, will you? there's a good girl.' + +And she said she would. And in ten minutes I was dressed, and nicely +dressed too, for I had on my white frock and the things I had had at +a girl's wedding the summer before, and a pair of new gloves I had +got out of my butter-money. + +Then I went off up the hill to the church after Mattie, even then +not making up my mind what I was going to do, but with an idea that +all things somehow might work together for good to me if I only had +the sense to see how, and turn things that way. + +As I come up to the church I was just in time to see her old green +gown going in at the porch, and when I come up the key was in the +door, and she hadn't come out. Quick as thought, the idea come to me +to have a joke with her and lock her in, so she shouldn't meet him, +and next minute I had turned the key in the lock softly, and stole +off through the church porch, and up to the ash copse, which I +couldn't make a mistake about, for there's only one within a mile of +the church. + +Jack was there, though it was before the time. I could see his blue +tie and white shirt-front shining through the trees. + +When I locked her in I only meant to have a sort of joke--at least, +I think so,--but when I come close up to him and saw how well off he +looked, and the diamond ring on his fingers, and his pin and his +gold chain, I thought to myself-- + +'Well, you go to Liverpool to-morrow, young man! And she ain't got +your address, and, likely as not, if you go away vexed with her, you +won't leave it with your aunt, and one wife is as good as another, +if not better, and as for her caring for you, that's all affectation +and silliness--so here goes.' + +He stepped forward, with his hands held out to me, but when he saw +it was me he stopped short. + +'Why, Miss Jane,' he said, 'I beg your pardon. I was expecting quite +a different person.' + +'Yes, I know,' I says, 'you was expecting my cousin Mattie.' + +'And isn't she coming?' he asks very quick, looking at me full, with +his blue eyes. + +'I hope you won't take it hard, Mr. Halibut,' says I, 'but she said +she'd rather not come.' + +'Confound it!' says he. + +'You see,' I went on, 'it's a long time since you was at home, and +you not writing or anything, and some girls are very flighty and +changeable; and she told me to tell you she was sorry if you were +mistaken in her feelings about you, and she's had time to think +things over since three years ago; and now you're so well off, she +says she's sure you'll find no difficulty in getting a girl suited +to your mind.' + +'Did she say that?' he said, looking at me very straight. 'It's not +like her.' + +'I don't mean she said so in those words, or that she told me to +tell you so; but that's what I made out to be her mind from what she +said between us two like.' + +'But what message did she send to me? For I suppose she sent you to +meet me to-day.' + +Then I saw that I should have to be very careful. So to get a little +time I says, 'I don't quite like to tell you, Mr. Halibut, what she +said.' + +'Out with it,' says he. 'Don't be a fool, girl!' + +'Well, then,' I says, 'if it must be so, her words were these: "Tell +Jack," she says, "that I shall ever wish him well for the sake of +what's past, but all's over betwixt him and me, and--"' + +'And what,' says he. + +'There wasn't much besides,' says I. + +'Good God, don't be such an idiot!' and he looked as if he could +have shaken me. + +'Well, then, if you must have it,' says I, 'she says, "Tell Jack +there's at least one girl I know of as would make him a better wife +than I should, and has been thinking of him steady and faithful +these three years, while I've been giving my mind to far other +things."' + +'Confound her!' says he, 'little witch. And who is this other girl +that she's so gracious to hand me over to?' + +'I don't want to say no more,' says I. 'I'm going now, Mr. Halibut. +Good-bye.' + +For well I knew he wouldn't let me go at that. + +'Tell me who it is,' says he. 'What! she's not content with giving +me the mitten herself, but she must insult me and this poor girl +too, who's got more sense than she has. Good Heavens, it would serve +her right if I took her at her word, and took the other girl back +with me.' + +He was walking up and down with his hands in his pockets, frowning +like a July thunderstorm. + +'Wicked, heartless little--but there, thank God! all women aren't +like her. Who's this girl that she's tried to set me against?' + +'I can't tell you,' says I. + +'Oh! can't you, my girl? But you shall.' + +And he catches hold of both my wrists in his hands. + +'Leave me go!' I cried, 'you're hurting me.' + +'Who is it?' + +I was looking down my nose very straight, but when he said that, I +just lifted my eyes up and looked at him, and dropped them. + +I've always practised looking like what I meant, or what I wanted +people to think I meant--sort of matching your looks and words, like +you match ribbon and a bit of stuff. + +'So you're the girl, are you?' he cries. 'And she thought to put you +to shame before me with her messages? Look here, I'm well off. I'm +going to Liverpool to-night, and back to America next week. I want +to take a wife with me, and she says you have thought of me while +I've been away. Will you marry me, Jane?' + +I just looked at him again, and he put his arm round me and gave me +a good kiss. I had to put up with it, though I never could see any +sense in that sort of stuff. Then we walked home together, very +slow, his arm round me. + +I daresay some people will think I oughtn't to have acted so, taking +away another girl's fellow. But I was quite sure she would get +plenty that would play love in a cottage with her, and she did not +seem to appreciate her blessings in getting a man that was well off, +and I didn't see how it could be found out, as he was going away +next day. + +Now, it would all have gone as well as well if I had had the sense +to offer to see him off at the station, and I ought to have had the +sense to see him well out of the place. But we all make mistakes +sometimes. Mine was in saying 'Good-bye' to him at the corner of the +four-acre and going home by myself, leaving him with three-quarters +of an hour for 'Satan to find some mischief still for idle hands to +do' in. + +I said 'Good-bye' to him, and he kissed me, and gave me the address +where to write, and told me what to do. + +'For I shan't have no truck with your uncle,' says he. 'I marries my +wife, and I takes her right away.' + +It wasn't till I was going up the stairs, untying my bonnet-strings +as I went, and smoothing out the ribbons with my finger and thumb, +for it was my best, that it come to me all in a minute that I had +left Mattie locked up in that church. It was very tiresome, and how +to get her out I didn't know. But I thought maybe she would be +trying some of the other doors, and I might turn the key gently and +away again before she could find out it was unlocked. + +So up to the church I went, very hot, and a setting sun, and having +had no tea or anything, and as I began to climb the hill my heart +stood still in my veins, for I heard a sound from the church as I +never expected to hear at that time of the day and week. + +'O Lord!' I thought, 'she's tried every other way, and now she's +ringing the bell, and she'll fetch up the whole village, and what +will become of me?' + +I made the best haste I could, but I could see more than one black +dot moving up the hill before me that showed me folks on their way +home had heard the bell and was going to see what it meant. And when +I got up there they were trying the big door of the church, not +knowing it was the little side one where the key was, and Jack, he +come up almost the same moment I did, and I knew well enough he had +come to get that note out of her prayer-book for fear some one else +should see it. + +'Here, I've got the key in my pocket,' says he, and with that he +opened the door, the bell clang, clang, clanging from the tower all +the time like as if the bellringer was drunk and had got a wager on +to get more beats out of the bell in half an hour than the next man. + +Whoever it was that was ringing the bell--and I could give a pretty +good guess who it was--didn't seem to hear us coming, and they went +up the aisle and pulled back the red baize curtain that hides the +bottom of the tower where the ringers stand on Sundays, and there +was Mattie with her old green gown on, and her hair all loose and +down her back with the hard work of bellringing, I suppose, and her +face as white as the bald-faced stag as is painted on the sign down +at the inn in the village. And directly she saw Jack, I knew it was +all over, for she let go the rope and it swung up like a live thing +over our heads, and she made two steps to Jack and had him round the +neck before them all. + +'O Jack!' she cried, 'don't look like that. + +I came to fetch your letter, and somebody locked me in.' + +Jack, he turned to me, and his face was so that I should have been +afraid to have been along of him in a lonely place. + +'This is your doings,' says he, 'and all that pack of lies you told +me was out of your own wicked head.' + +He had got his arm round her, and was holding on as if she was +something worth having, instead of a silly girl in a frock three +year old. + +'I don't know what you mean, I'm sure,' I said; 'it was only a +joke.' + +'A joke!' says he. 'Lies, I call it, and I know they're lies by the +very touch of her in my arm here.' + +'Oh, well!' I said, 'if you can't take joking better than this, it's +the last time I'll ever try joking with you.' + +And I walked out of the church, and the other folks who had run up +to see what was the matter come out with me. And they two was left +alone. + +I suppose it was only human nature that, as I come round the church, +I should get on the top of a tombstone and look in to see what they +was doing. It was the little window where a pane was broken by a +stone last summer, and so I heard what they was saying. He was +trying to tell her what I had told him--quite as much for her own +good as for mine, as you have seen; but she didn't seem to want to +listen. + +'Oh, never mind all that now, Jack,' she says, with arms round his +neck. 'What does it matter about a silly joke now that I have got +you, and it's all right betwixt us?' + +I thought it my duty to go straight home and tell uncle she was up +in the church, kissing and cuddling with Jack Halibut; and he took +his stick and started off after her. + +But he met them at the garden gate, and Jack, he came forward, and +he says-- + +'Mr. Kenworthy, I have had hard thoughts of you this three year, but +I see you was right, for if I had never gone away, I should never +have been able to keep my little girl as she should be kept, and as +I can now, thanks be! and I should never have known how dear she has +loved me this three year.' + +And uncle, like the soft-hearted old thing he is, he holds out his +hands, and he says, 'God bless you, my boy, it was for your own good +and hers.' + +And they went in to supper. + +As for me, I went to bed. I had had all the supper I wanted. And +uncle has never been the same to me since, though I'm sure I tried +to act for the best. + + + + + + +GUILTY + + + + + +IT was my first place and my last, and I don't think we should have +got on in business as we have if it hadn't been for me being for six +or seven years with one of the first families in the county. Though +only a housemaid, you can't help learning something of their ways. +At any rate, you learn what gentlefolks like, and what they can't +abide. But the worst of being housemaid where there's a lot of +servants kept is, that one or other or all of the men-servants is +sure to be wanting to keep company with you. They have nothing else +to do in their spare time, and I suppose it's handy having your +sweetheart living in the house. It doesn't give you so much trouble +with going out in the evening, if not fine. + +The coachman was promised to the cook, which, I believe, often takes +place. Tim, the head groom, was a very nice, genteel fellow, and I +daresay I might have taken up with him, if I hadn't met with my +James, though never with John, who was the plague of my life. To +begin with, he had a black whisker, that I couldn't bear to look at, +let alone putting one's face against it, as I should have had to +have done when married, no doubt. And he had a roving black eye, +very yellowy in the white of it, and hair that looked all black and +bear's-greasy, though he always said he never put anything on it +except a little bay rum in moderation. + +They tell me I was a pretty girl enough in those days, though looks +is less important than you might think to a housemaid, if only she +dresses neat and has a small waist. And I suppose I must think that +John really did love me in his scowling, black whiskery way. He was +a good footman, I will say that, and had been with the master three +years, and the best of characters; but whatever he might have +thought, I never would have had anything to do with him, even if +James and me had had seas between us broad a-rolling for ever and +ever Amen. He asked me once and he asked me twice, and it was 'no' +and 'no' again. And I had even gone so far as to think that perhaps +I should have to give up a good place to get out of his way, when +master's uncle, old Mr. Oliver, and his good lady, came to stay at +the Court, and with them came James, who was own man to Mr. Oliver. + +Mr. Oliver was the funniest-looking old gent I ever see, if I may +say so respectfully. He was as bald as an egg, with a sort of frill +of brown hair going from ear to ear behind; and as if that wasn't +enough, he was shaved as clean as a whistle, as though he had made +up his mind that people shouldn't say that it had all gone to beard +and whiskers, anyway. He wrote books, a great many of them, and you +may often see his name in the papers, and he was for ever poking +about into what didn't concern him, and my Lady, she said to me when +she found me a little put out at him asking about how things went on +in the servants' hall, she said to me-- + +'You mustn't mind him, Mary,' she said; 'you know he likes to find +out all that he can about everything, so as to put it in his books.' + +And he certainly talked to every one he came across--even the +stable-boys--in a way that you could hardly think becoming from a +gentleman to servants, if he wasn't an author, and so to have +allowances made for him, poor man! He talked to the housemaids, and +he talked to the groom, and he talked to the footman that waited on +him at lunch when he had it late, as he did sometimes, owing to him +having been kept past the proper time by his story-writing, for he +wrote a good part of the day most days, and often went up to London +while he was staying with us--to sell his goods, I suppose. He wore +curious clothes, not like most gentlemen, but all wool things, even +to his collars and his boots, which were soft and soppy like felt; +and he took snuff to that degree I wouldn't have believed any human +nose could have borne it, and he must have been a great trial to +Mrs. Oliver until she got used to him and his pottering about all +over the house in his soft-soled shoes; and the mess he made of his +pocket-handkerchieves and his linen! + +Mrs. Oliver was a round little fat bunch of a woman, if I may say so +in speaking of master's own aunt by marriage, and him a baronet. She +had the most lovely jewellery, and was very fond of wearing it of an +evening, more than most people do when they are staying with +relations and there's no company. She never spoke much except to +say, 'Yes, Dick dear,' and 'No, Dick dear,' when they spoke to each +other; but they were as fond of each other as pigeons on a roof, and +always very pleasant-spoken and nice to wait on. + +As for James, he was the jolliest man I ever met, and cook said the +same. He was like Sam Weller in the book, or would have been if he +had lived in those far-off times; but footmen are more genteel now +than they were then. + +Anyway, he hadn't been at the Court twenty-four hours before he was +first favourite with every one, and cook made him a Welsh rabbit +with her own hands, 'cause he hadn't been able to get his dinner +comfortable with the rest of us--a thing she wouldn't have done for +Sir William himself at that time of night. As for me, the first time +he looked at me with his jolly blue eyes--it was when he met me +carrying a tray the first morning after he came--my heart gave a +jump inside my print gown, and I said to it as I went downstairs-- +'You've met your master, I'm thinking'; and if I did go to church +with him the very first Sunday, which was more than ever I had done +with any of the others, it was after he had asked me plain and +straight to go to church with him some day for good and all. + +Now, the next morning, quite early, I was dusting the library, when +John come in with his black face like a thundercloud. + +'Look here, Mary,' he says; 'what do you mean by going to church +with that stuck-up London trumpery?' + +'Mind your own business,' says I, sharp as you please. + +'I am,' he says. 'You are my business--the only business I care a +damn about, or am ever likely to. You don't know how I love you, +Mary,' he says. And I was sorry for him as he spoke. 'I would lie +down in the dirt for you to walk on if it would do you any good, so +long as you didn't walk over me to get to some other chap.' + +'I am very sorry for you, John,' says I, 'but I've told you, not +once or twice, but fifty times, that it can never be. And there are +plenty of other girls that would be only too glad to walk out with a +young man like you without your troubling yourself about me.' + +He was walking up and down the room like a cat in a cage. Presently +he began to laugh in a nasty, sly, disagreeable way. + +'Oh! you think he'll marry you, do you?' says he. 'But he's just +amusing himself with you till he gets back to London to his own +girl. You let him see you was only amusing yourself with him, and +you come out with me when you get your evening.' + +And he took the dusting-brush out of my hand, and caught hold of my +wrists. + +'It's all a lie!' I cried; 'and I wonder you can look me in the face +and tell it. Him and me are going to be married as soon as he has +saved enough for a little public, and I never want to speak to you +again; and if you don't let go of my hands, I'll scream till I fetch +the house down, master and all, and then where will you be?' + +He scowled at that, but he let my hands go directly. + +'Have it your own way,' he said. 'But I tell you, you won't marry +him, and you'll find he won't want to marry you, and you'll marry +me, my girl. And when you have married me, you shall cry your eyes +out for every word you have said now.' + +'Oh, shall I, Mr. Liar?' says I, for my blood was up; 'before that +happens, you'll have to change him into a liar and me into a fool +and yourself into an honest man, and you'll find that the hardest of +all.' And with that I threw the dusting-brush at him--which was a +piece of wicked temper I oughtn't to have given way to--and ran out +of the door, and I heard him cursing to himself something fearful as +I went down the passage. + +'Good thing the gentlefolks are abed still,' I said to myself; and I +didn't tell a soul about it, even cook, the truth being I was +ashamed to. + +Well, everything went on pretty much the same as usual for two or +three weeks, and I thought John was getting the better of his +silliness, because he made a show of being friendly to James and was +respectful to me, even when we was alone. Then came that dreadful +day that I shall never forget if I live to be a hundred years old. +Dinner was half an hour later than usual on account of Mr. Oliver +having gone up to town on his business; but he didn't get home when +expected, and they sat down without him after all. I was about my +work, turning down beds and so forth, and I had done Mrs. Oliver's +about ten minutes, and was in my lady's room, when Mrs. Oliver's own +maid came running in with a face like paper. + +'Oh, what ever shall I do?' she cried, wringing her hands, as they +say in books, and I always thought it nonsense, but she certainly +did, though I never saw any one do it before or since. + +'What is it?' I asked her. + +'It's my mistress's diamond necklace,' she said. 'She was going to +wear it to-night. And then she said, No, she wouldn't; she'd have +the emeralds, and I left it on the dressing-table instead of locking +it up, and now it's gone!' + +I went into Mrs. Oliver's room with her, and there was the jewel-box +with the pretty shining things turned out on the dressing-table, for +Mrs. Oliver had a heap of jewellery that had come to her from her +own people, and she as fond of wearing it as if she was slim and +twenty, instead of being fifty, and as round as an orange. We looked +on the dressing-table and we looked on the floor, and we looked in +the curtains to see if it had got in any of them. But look high, +look low, no diamond necklace could we find. So at last Scott--that +was Mrs. Oliver's maid--said there was nothing for it but to go and +tell her mistress. The ladies were in the drawing-room by this time. +So she went down all of a tremble, and in the hall there was Mrs. +Oliver looking anxious out of the front door, which was open, it +being summer and the house standing in its own park. + +'Mr. Oliver is very late, Scott,' she says. 'I am getting anxious +about him.' + +And as she spoke, and before Scott could answer, there was his step +on the gravel, and he came in at the front door with his little +black bag in his hand that I suppose he carried his stories in to +see if people would like to buy them. + +'Hullo! Scott,' he says, 'have you seen a ghost?' And, indeed, she +looked more dead than alive. She gulped in her throat, but she could +not speak. + +'Here, young woman,' says Mr. Oliver to me, 'you haven't lost your +head altogether. What's it all about?' + +So I told him as well as I could, and by this time master had come +out and my Lady, and you never saw any one so upset as they were. +All the house was turned out of window, hunting for the necklace; +though, of course, not having legs, it couldn't have walked by +itself out of Mrs. Oliver's room. All the servants was called up, +even to the kitchen-maid; and those who were not angry, were +frightened, and, what with fright and anger, there wasn't one of us, +I do believe, as didn't look as they had got the necklace on under +their clothes that very minute. John was very angry indeed. 'Do they +think we'd take their dirty necklace?' he said, as we were going up. +'It's enough to ruin all of us, this kind of thing happening, and +leaving the doors open so that any one could get in and walk clear +off with it without a stain on their character, and us left with +none to speak of' + +So when master had asked us all a lot of questions, and we were told +we could go, John stepped out and said-- + +'I am sure I am only expressing the feelings of my fellow-servants +when I say that we should wish our boxes searched and our rooms, so +that there shall be no chance for any one to say afterwards that it +lays at any of our doors.' + +And Mrs. Oliver began to cry, and she said 'No, no, she wouldn't put +that insult on any one.' But Mr. Oliver, who hadn't been saying +much, though so talkative generally, but kept taking snuff at a rate +that was dreadful to see, he said-- + +'The young man is quite right, my dear; and if you don't mind,' he +says to master, 'I think it had better be done.' + +And so it was done, and I don't know how to write about it now, +though it was never true. They came to my room and they looked into +all my drawers and boxes except my little hat-tin, and when they +wanted the key of that, I said, silly-like, not having any idea that +they could think that I could do such a thing, 'I'd rather you +didn't look into that. It's only some things I don't want any one to +see.' + +And the reason was that I'd got some bits of things in it that I'd +got the week before in the town towards getting my things for the +wedding ready, and I felt somehow I didn't want any one to see them +till James did. And they all looked very queer at me when I said +that, and my Lady said-- + +'Mary, give me the key at once.' + +So I did, and oh! I shall never forget it. They took out the +flannel, and the longcloth and things, and the roll of embroidery +that I was going to trim them with, and rolled inside that, if +you'll believe me, there was the necklace like a shining snake +coiled up. I never said a word, being struck silly. I didn't cry or +even say anything as people do in books when these things happen to +them; but Mrs. Oliver burst out crying, God bless her for it! and my +Lady said, 'O Mary, I'd never have believed it of you any more than +I would of myself!' + +And Mr. Oliver he said to master, 'Have all the servants into the +library, William. Perhaps some one else is in it too.' + +But nobody said a word to say that it wasn't me, and indeed how +could they? + +I should think it's like being had up for murder, standing there in +the library with all the servants holding off from me as if I had +got something catching, and master and my Lady and Mr. and Mrs. +Oliver in leather armchairs, all of a row, looking like a bench of +magistrates. I could not think, though I tried hard--I could only +feel as if I was drowning and fighting for breath. + +'Now, Mary,' says Master, 'what have you got to say?' + +'I never touched it, sir,' I said; 'I never put it there; I don't +know who did; and may God forgive them, for I never could.' + +Then my Lady said, 'Mary, I can hardly believe it of you even now, +but why wouldn't you let us have the key of your box?' + +Then I turned hot and cold all of a minute, and I looked round, and +there wasn't a face that looked kind at me except Mr. Oliver's, and +he nodded at me, taking snuff all over his fat white waistcoat. + +'Speak up, girl,' he said, 'speak up.' + +So then I said, 'I'm a-going to be married, my Lady, and it was bits +of things I'd got towards my wedding clothes.' + +I looked at James to see if he believed it, and his face was like +lead, and his eyes wild that used to be so jolly, and to see him +look like that made my heart stand still, and I cried out-- + +'O my God, strike me down dead, for live I can't after this!' + +And at that, James spoke up, and he said, speaking very quick and +steady, 'I wish to confess that I took it, and I put it in her box, +thinking to take it away again after. We were to have been married, +and I wanted the money to start in a little pub.' + +And everybody stood still, and you could have heard a pin drop, and +Mr. Oliver went on nodding his head and taking snuff till I could +have killed him for it; and I looked at James, and I could have +fallen at his feet and worshipped him, for I saw in a minute why he +said it. He believed it was me, and he wanted to save me. So then I +said to master-- + +'The thing was found in my box, sir, and I'll take the consequences +if I have to be hanged for it. But don't you believe a word James +says. He never touched it. It wasn't him.' + +'How do you know it wasn't him,' says master very sharp. 'If you +didn't take it, how do you know who did?' + +'How do I know?' I cried, forgetting for a moment who I was speaking +to. 'Why, if you'd half a grain of sense among the lot of you, you'd +know why I know it's not him. If you felt to a young man like I feel +to James, you'd know in your heart that he could not have done such +a thing, not if there was fifty diamond necklaces found in fifty +pockets on him at the same time.' + +They said nothing, but Mr. Oliver chuckled in his collar till I'd +have liked to strangle him with my two hands round his fat throat. +And I went on-- + +'I'm as sure he didn't do it as I am that I didn't do it myself, and +as he would have been that I didn't if he had really loved me, as he +said, instead of believing that I could do such a thing, and trying +to save me with a black lie--God bless him for it.' + +And James he never looked at me, but he said again, 'Don't mind +her--she's off her head with fright about me. You send me off to +prison as soon as you like, sir.' + +And still none of the others spoke, but Mr. Oliver leaned back in +his chair, and he clapped his hands softly as though he was at a +play. 'Bravo!' he says, 'bravo!' + +And the others looked at him as if they thought he had gone out of +his mind. + +'It's a very pretty drama, very nicely played, but now it's time to +put an end to it. Do you want to see the villain?' he says to +master, and master never answering him, only staring, he turned +quite sharp and sudden and pointed to John as he stood near the door +with his black eyes burning like coals. 'You took it,' said Mr. +Oliver, 'and you put it in Mary's box. Oh! you needn't start. I know +it's true without that.' + +John had started, but he pulled himself together in a minute. The +man had pluck, I will say that. He spoke quite firm and respectful. +'And why should I have done that, sir, if you please, when all the +house knows that I have been courting Mary fair and honest this two +year?' + +Mr. Oliver tapped his snuff-box and grinned all over his big smooth +face. 'When you do your courting fair and honest, young man, you +should be careful not to do it in the library with the window open. +I was in the verandah, and I heard you threaten that she should +never marry James, and that she should marry you; and that you would +be revenged on her for her bad taste in preferring him to you.' + +John drew a deep breath. 'That's nothing, sir, is it?' he says to +master. 'Every one in the house knows I have been sorry for a hasty +word, and have been the best friends with both of them for these +three weeks.' + +Mr. Oliver got up and put his snuff-box on the table, and his hands +in his trouser pockets. 'You can send for the police, William,' he +said to master, 'because as a matter of fact, I saw the +black-whiskered gentleman with the necklace in his hand. I did get +home late to-night, but not so late as you thought, and I came in +through the open door and was up in my dressing-room when that +scoundrel sneaked into my wife's room and took the necklace to ruin +an innocent girl with. What a thorough scoundrel you are, though, +aren't you?' he said to John. + +Then John, he shrugged his shoulders as much as to say, 'It's all up +now,' and he said to Mr. Oliver very politely, 'You are always fond +of poking your nose into other people's business, sir, and I daresay +you'd like to know why I did it. Oh yes. You know everything, you +do,' says John, growing very white, and speaking angry and quick, +'with your writing, and your snuff, and your gossiping with the +servants, which no gentleman would do, and your nasty, sneaking, +Jaeger-felt boots, and your silly old tub of a wife. I knew that +smooth-spoken man of yours would believe anything against her, and I +knew he would never marry her after a set-out like this, and I knew +I should get her when she found I stuck to her through it all, as I +should have done, and as I would have done too, if she had taken +fifty diamond necklaces.' + +'Send for the police,' said master, but nobody moved. For Mrs. +Oliver, who had been crying like a waterworks ever since we came +down into the library, said quite sudden, 'O Dick dear! let him go. +Don't prosecute him. See, he's lost everything, and he's lost her, +and he must have been mad with love for her or he wouldn't have done +such a thing.' + +Now, wasn't that a true lady to speak up like that for him after +what he'd said of her? Mr. Oliver looked surprised at her speaking +up like that, her that hardly ever said a word except 'Yes, Dick +dear,' and 'No, Dick dear,' and then he shrugs his shoulders and he +says, 'You are right, my dear, he's punished enough.' + +And John turned to go like a dog that has been whipped; but at the +door he faced round, and he said to Mrs. Oliver, 'You're a good +woman, and I'm sorry I said what I did about you. But for the other +I'm not sorry, not if it was my last word.' + +And with that he went out of the room, and out of the house through +the front door. He had no relations and he had no friends, and I +suppose he had nowhere to go with his character gone, and so it +happened that was truly his last word as far as any one knows. For +he was found next morning on the level-crossing after the down +express had passed. + +You never saw such a fuss as every one made of me and James +afterwards. I might have been a queen and him a king. But when it +was all over it stuck in my mind that he oughtn't to have doubted +me, and so I wouldn't name the day for over a year, though Mrs. +Oliver had bought him a nice little hotel and given it to him +herself; but when the year was up, Mr. and Mrs. Oliver came down to +stay again, and seeing them brought it all back, and his having +tried to save me as he had seemed more than his having doubted me. +And so I married him, and I don't think any one ever made a better +match. James says he made a better match, and if I don't agree with +him, it's only right and proper that he should think so, and I thank +God that he does every hour of my life. + + + + + + +SON AND HEIR + + + + + +SIR JASPER was always the best of masters to me and to all of us; +and he had that kind of way with him, masterful and gentle at the +same time, like as if he was kind to you for his own pleasure, and +ordering you about for your own good, that I believe any of us would +have cut our hand off at the wrist if he had told us to. + +Lady Breynton had been dead this many a year. She hadn't come to her +husband with her hands empty. They say that Sir Jasper had been very +wild in his youth, and that my Lady's money had come in very handy +to pull the old place together again. She worshipped the ground Sir +Jasper walked on, as most women did that he ever said a kind word +to. But it never seemed to me that he took to her as much as you +might have expected a warm-hearted gentleman like him to do. But he +took to her baby wonderful. I was nurse to that baby from the first, +and a fine handsome little chap he was, and when my Lady died he was +wholly given over to my care. And I loved the child; indeed, I did +love him, and should have loved him to the end but for one thing, +and that comes in its own place in my story. But even those who +loved young Jasper best couldn't help seeing he hadn't his father's +winning ways. And when he grew up to man's estate, he was as wild as +his father had been before him. But his wild ways were the ways that +make young men enemies, not friends, and out of all that came to the +house, for the hunting, or the shooting, or what not, I used to +think there wasn't one would have held out a hand to my young master +if he had been in want of it. And yet I loved him because I had +brought him up, and I never had a child of my own. I never wished to +be married, but I used to wish that little Jasper had been my own +child. I could have had an authority over him then that I hadn't as +his nurse, and perhaps it might have all turned out differently. + +There were many tales about Sir Jasper, but I didn't think it was my +place to listen to them. + +Only, when it's your own eyes, it's different, and I couldn't help +seeing how like young Robert, the under-gamekeeper, was to the +Family. He had their black, curly hair, and merry Irish eyes, and +he, if you please, had just Sir Jasper's winning ways. + +Why he was taken on as gamekeeper no one could make out, for when he +first came up to the Hall to ask the master for a job, they tell me +he knew no more of gamekeeping than I do of Latin. Young Robert was +a steady chap, and used to read and write of an evening instead of +spending a jolly hour or two at the Dove and Branch, as most young +fellows do, and as, indeed, my young master did too often. And Sir +Jasper, he gave him books without end and good advice, and would +have him so often about him he set everybody's tongue wagging to a +tune more merry than wise. And young Robert loved the master, of +course. Who didn't? + +Well, there came a day when the Lord above saw fit to put out the +sunshine like as if it had been a bedroom candle; for Sir Jasper, he +was brought back from the hunting-field with his back broke. + +I always take a pleasure in remembering that I was with him to the +last, and did everything that could be done for him with my own +hands. He lingered two days, and then he died. + +It was the hour before the dawn, when there is always a wind, no +matter how still the night, a chilly wind that seems to find out the +marrow of your bones, and if you are nursing sick folk, you bank up +the fire high and watch them extra careful till the sun gets up. + +Sir Jasper opened his eyes and looked at me--oh! so kindly. It +brings tears into my eyes when I think of it. 'Nelly,' he says, 'I +know I can trust you.' + +And I said, 'Yes, sir.' And so he could, whatever it might have +been. What happened afterwards wasn't my fault, and couldn't have +been guarded against. + +'Then go,' he said, 'to my old secretaire and open it.' + +And I did. There was rows of pigeon-holes inside, and little drawers +with brass knobs. + +'You take hold of the third knob from the right, Nelly,' said he. +'Don't pull it; give it a twist round.' I did, and lo and behold! a +little drawer jumped out at me from quite another part of the +secretaire. + +'You see what's in it, Nelly?' says he. + +It was a green leather case tied round with a bit of faded ribbon. + +'Now, what I want you to do,' he says, 'is to lay that beside me +when it's all over. I have always had my doubts about the dead +sleeping so quiet as some folks say. But I think I shall sleep if +you lay that beside me, for I am very tired, Nelly,' he said, 'very +tired.' + +Then I went back to his bed, where he lay looking quite calm and +comfortable. + +'The end has come very suddenly,' says he; 'but it is best this +way.' + +Then we was both quiet a bit. + +'I may be wrong,' he went on presently, his face quite straight, but +a laugh in his blue eye. 'I may be wrong, Nelly, but I think you +would like to kiss me before I die--I know well enough you'll do it +after.' + +And when he said that, I was glad I had never kissed another man. +And soon after that, it being the coldest hour of all the night, he +moved his head on his pillow and said-- + +'I'm off now, Nelly, but you needn't wake the doctors. It's very +dark outside. Hand me out, my girl, hand me out.' So I gave him my +hand, and he died holding it. Whether I grieved much or little over +my old master is no one's business but my own. I went about the +house, and I did my duty--ever since Master Jasper had been grown up +I had been housekeeper. I did my duty, I say, and before the coffin +lid was screwed down I laid that green leather case under the shroud +by my master's side; and just as I had done it I turned round +feeling that some one was in the room, and there stood young Master +Jasper at the door looking at me. + +'All's ready now,' I said to the undertaker's men, and called them +in, and young Master Jasper, he followed me along the passage. 'What +were you doing?' + +'I was putting something in the master's coffin he told me to put +there.' + +'What was it?' he asked, very sharp and sudden. + +'How should I know?' says I. 'It's in a case. It may be some old +letter or a lock of hair as belonged to your mother.' + +'Come into my room,' he said, and I followed him in. He looked very +pale and anxious, and when he'd shut the door he spoke-- + +'Look here, Nelly, I'm going to trust you. My father was very angry +with me about some little follies of mine, and he told me the other +night he had left a good slice of the estate away from me. Do you +think that packet you put in the coffin had anything to do with it?' + +'Good Lord, bless your soul, sir, no,' I said. 'That was no will or +lawyer's letters, it was but some little token of remembrance he set +store by.' + +'Thanks, Nelly, that was all I wanted to know.' + +No one ever knows who tells these things, but it had leaked out +somehow that that slice of the estate was to belong to young Robert +the gamekeeper, and you may be sure the tongues went wagging above a +bit. But it seemed to me, if it was so, my master was right to make +a proper provision for Robert as well as for Jasper. However, nobody +could be sure of anything until after the funeral. + +The doctor was staying in the house, and master's younger brother, +besides the lawyer and young Master Jasper; so I had many things to +see to, and ought to have been tired enough to get to sleep easy the +night before he was buried. But somehow I couldn't sleep. I couldn't +help thinking of my master as I had known him all these years. Him +being always so gentle and so kind, and so light-hearted, it didn't +seem likely he could have had young Robert on his conscience all the +time; and yet what was I to think? And then my poor Jasper--I say +'poor,' but I never loved and pitied him less than I did that night. +He had lost such a father, and he could go troubling about whether +he had got the whole estate or not. So I lay awake, and I thought of +the coffin lying between its burning tapers in the great bedroom, +and I wished they had not screwed him down, for then I could have +gone, late as it was, and had another look at my master's face. And +as I lay it seemed to me that I heard a door opened, and then a +step, and then a key turned. Now, the master never locked his door, +so the key of that room turned rusty in the lock, and before I had +time to think more than that I was out of bed and in my +dressing-gown, creeping along the passage. Sure enough, my master's +door was open, as I saw by the streak of light across the corridor. +I walked softly on my bare feet, and no one could have heard me go +along the thick carpet. When I got to the door, I saw that what I +had been trying not to think of was really true. Master Jasper was +there taking the screws out of his father's coffin to see what was +in that green leather case. + +I stood there and looked. I could not have moved, not for the +Queen's crown, if it had been offered me then and there. One after +another he took the screws out and laid them on the little bedside +table, where the master used to keep his pistols of a night. When +all the screws was out he lifted the lid in both his arms and set it +on the bed, where it lay looking like another coffin. Then he began +to search for what I had put in beside his father. + +Now, I may be a heartless woman, and I suppose I am, or how account +for it? But when I saw my young master go to his father's coffin +like that, and begin to serve his own interest and his own +curiosity, every spark of love I had ever had for the boy died out, +and I cared no more for him than if he had been the first comer. + +If he had kissed his father, or so much as looked kindly at the dead +face in the coffin, it would have been different. But he hadn't a +look or a thought to spare for him as gave him life, and had +humoured and spoiled and petted and made much of him all his twenty +years. Not a thought for his father; all his thoughts was to find +out what his father hadn't wished him to know. + +Now I was feeling set that Master Jasper should never know what was +in that green leather case, and I cared no more for what he thought +or what he felt than I should have done if he had been a common +thief as, God forgive me, he was in my eyes at that hour. So I crept +behind him softly, softly, an inch at a time, till I got to where I +could see the coffin; and if you'll believe a foolish old woman, I +kept looking at that dead face till I nigh forgot what I was there +for. And while I was standing mazed like and stupid, young Master +Jasper had got out the green case, and was turning over what was in +it in his hands. + +I got him by the two elbows behind, and he started like a horse that +has never felt even the whip will do at the spur's touch. Almost at +the same time my heart came leaping into my mouth, and if ever a +woman nearly died of fright, I was that woman, for some one behind +me put a hand on my shoulder and said, 'What's all this?' + +Young Sir Jasper and I both turned sharp. It was the doctor. His +ears were as quick as mine, and he had heard the key too, I suppose. +Anyhow, there he was, and he picked up the papers young Sir Jasper +had let fall, and says he, 'I will deal with these, young gentleman. +Go you to your room.' And Sir Jasper, like a kicked hound, went. +Then I began to tell my share in that night's work. But the doctor +stopped me, for he had seen me and watched me all along. Then he +stood by the coffin, and went through what was in the little leather +case. + +'I must keep these now,' he said, 'but you shall keep your promise +and put them beside him before he is buried.' + +And the next day, before the funeral, I went alone and saw my master +again, and gave him his little case back, and I thought I should +have liked him to know that I had done my best for him, but he could +not have known that without knowing of what young Sir Jasper had +done, and that would have broken his heart; so when all's said and +done, perhaps it's as well the dead know nothing. + +And after the funeral we was all in the library to hear the will +read, and the lawyer he read out that the personal property went to +Robert the gamekeeper, and the entailed property would of course be +young Sir Jasper's. + +And young Sir Jasper, oh that ever I should have called him my +boy!--he rose up in his place and said that his father was a doting +old fool and out of his mind, and he would have the law of them, +anyhow, and my late dear master not yet turned of fifty! And then +the doctor got up and he said-- + +'Stop a bit, young man; I have a word or two to say here.' + +And he up and told before all the folks there straight out what had +passed last night, and how young Sir Jasper had willed to rob his +father's coffin. + +'Now, you'll want to know what was in the little green leather +case,' he says at the end. 'And it was this,--a lock of hair and a +wedding ring, and a marriage certificate, and a baptism certificate; +and you, Jasper, are but the son by a second marriage; and Sir +Robert, I congratulate you, for you are come to your own.' + +'Do I get nothing, then?' shrieked young Sir Jasper, trembling like +a woman, and with the devil looking out of his eyes. + +'Your father intended you to have the entailed estates, right or +wrong; that was his choice. But you chose to know what he wished to +hide from you, and now you know that the entailed estates belong to +your brother.' + +'But the personalty?' + +'You forget,' said the doctor, rubbing his hands, with a sour smile, +'that your father provided for that in the will to which you so much +objected.' + +'Then, curse his memory and curse you,' cried Jasper, and flung out +of the house; nor have I ever seen him again, though he did set +lawyer folk to work in London to drive Sir Robert out of his own +place. But to no purpose. + +And Sir Robert, he lives in the old house, and is loved as his +father was before him by all he says a kind word to, and his kind +words are many. + +And to me he is all that I used to wish the boy Jasper might be, and +he has a reason for loving me which Jasper never had. + +For he said to me when he first spoke to me after his father's +funeral-- + +'My mother was a farmer's girl,' he said, 'and your father was a +farmer, so I feel we come, as it were, of one blood; and besides +that, I know who my father's friends were. I never forget those +things.' + +I still live on as a housekeeper at the Hall. My master left me no +money, but he bade his heir keep me on in my old place. I am glad to +think that he did not choose to leave me money, but instead the +great picture of himself that hung in the Hall. It hangs in my room +now, and looks down on me as I write. + + + + + + +ONE WAY OF LOVE + + + + + +YOU don't believe in coincidences, which is only another way of +saying that all things work together for good to them that love +God--or them that don't, for that matter, if they are honestly +trying to do what they think right. Now I do. + +I had as good a time as most young fellows when I was young. My +father farmed a bit of land down Malling way, and I walked out with +the prettiest girl in our parts. Jenny was her name, Jenny Teesdale; +her people come from the North. Pretty as a pink Jenny was, and neat +in her ways, and would make me a good wife, every one said, even my +own mother; and when a man's mother owns that about a girl he may +know he's got hold of a treasure. Now Jenny--her name was Jane, but +we called her Jenny for short--she had a cousin Amelia, who was +apprenticed to the millinery and dress-making in Maidstone; the two +had been brought up together from little things, and they was that +fond of each other it was a pleasure to see them together. I was +fond of Amelia, too, like as a brother might be; and when Jenny and +me walked out of a Sunday, as often as not Amelia would come with +us, and all went on happy enough for a while. Then I began to notice +Jenny didn't seem to care so much about walking out, and one Sunday +afternoon she said she had a headache and would rather stay at home +by the fire; for it was early spring, and the days chilly. Amelia +and me took a turn by ourselves, and when we got back to Teesdale's +farm, there was Jenny, wonderfully brisked up, talking and laughing +away with young Wheeler, whose father keeps the post-office. I was +not best pleased, I can tell you, but I kept a still tongue in my +head; only, as time went on, I couldn't help seeing Jenny didn't +seem to be at all the same to me, and Amelia seemed sad, too. + +I was in the hairdressing then, and serving my time, so it was only +on Sundays or an evening that I could get out. But at last I said to +myself, 'This can't go on; us three that used to be so jolly, we're +as flat as half a pint of four ale; and I'll know the reason why,' +says I, 'before I'm twenty-four hours older.' So I went to +Teesdale's with that clear fixed in my head. + +Jenny was not in the house, but Amelia was. The old folks had gone +to a Magic Lantern in the schoolroom, and Amelia was alone in the +house. + +'I'll have it out with her,' thinks I; so as soon as we had passed +the time of day and asked after each other's relations, I says, +'Look here, Amelia, what is it that's making mischief between you +and me and Jenny, as used to be so jolly along of each other?' + +She went red, and she went white and red again. + +'Don't 'e ask me, Tom--don't 'e now, there's a good fellow.' + +And, of course, I asked her all the more. + +Then says she, 'Jenny'll never forgive me if I tell you.' + +'Jenny shan't never know,' says I; and I swore it, too. + +Then says Amelia, 'I can't abear to tell you, Tom, for I know it +will break your 'eart. But + +Jenny, she don't care for you no more; it's Joe Wheeler as she +fancies now, and she's out with him this very minute, as here we +stand. + +'I'll wring her neck for her,' says I. Then when I had taken time to +think a bit, 'I can't believe this, Amelia,' says I, 'not even from +you. I must ask Jenny.' + +'But that's just what you've swore not to do,' says she. 'She'll +never forgive me if you do, Tom; and what need of asking when for +the trouble of walking the length of the road you can see them +together? But if I tell you where to find them, you swear you won't +speak or make a fuss, because she'd know I'd told you?' + +'I swear I won't,' says I. + +'Well, then,' says Amelia, 'I don't seem to be acting fair to her; +but, take it the other way, I can't abear to stand by and see you +deceived, Tom. If you go by the churchyard an hour from now, you'll +see them in the porch; but don't you say a word to them, and never +say I told you. Now, be off, Tom,' says she. + +It was early summer by this time, and the evenings long. I don't +think any man need envy me what I felt as I walked about the lanes +waiting till it was time to walk up to the church and find out for +certain that I'd been made a fool of. + +It was dusk when I opened the churchyard gate and walked up the +path. + +There she was, sure enough, in her Sunday muslin with the violet +sprig, and her black silk jacket with the bugles, and her arm was +round Joe Wheeler's neck--confound him!--and his arms were round her +waist, both of them. They didn't see me, and I stood for a minute +and looked at them, and but for what I'd swore to Amelia I believe I +should have taken Wheeler by the throat and shaken the life out of +him then and there. But I had swore, and I turned sharp and walked +away, and I never went up to Teesdale's nor to my father's farm, but +I went straight back to Pound's, the man I was bound to, and I wrote +a letter to Jenny and one to Amelia, and in Amelia's I only said-- + +'DEAR AMELIA,--Thank you very much; you were quite right. + +TOM.' + +And in the other I said-- + +Jenny, I've had pretty well enough of you; you can go to the devil +your own way. So no more at present from your sincere well-wisher +TOM. + +'P.S.--I'm going for a soldier.' + +And I left everything: my master that I was bound to, and my trade +and my father. And I went straight off to London. And I should have +been a soldier right enough but that I fell in with a fireman, and +he persuaded me to go in for that business, which is just as +exciting as a soldier's, and a great deal more dangerous, most +times. And a fireman I was for six or eight years, but I never cared +to walk out with another girl when I thought of Jenny. I didn't tell +my folks where I'd gone, and for years I heard nothing from them. + +And one night there was a fire in a street off the Borough--a high +house it was,--and I went up the ladder to a window where there was +a woman screaming, and directly I see her face I see it was Jenny. + +I fetched her down the ladder right enough, and she clung round my +neck (she didn't know me from Adam), and said: 'Oh, go back and +fetch my husband.' And I knew it was Wheeler I'd got to go and find. + +Then I went back and I looked for Wheeler. + +There he was, lying on the bed, drunk. + +Then the devil says to me, 'What call have you to go and find him, +the drunken swine? Leave him be, and you can marry Jenny, and let +bygones be bygones'; and I stood there half a minute, quite still, +with the smoke getting thick round me. Then, the next thing I knew, +there was a cracking under my feet and the boards giving way, and I +sprang across to Wheeler all in a minute, as anxious to save him as +if he'd been my own twin brother. There was no waking him, it was +lift him or leave him, and somehow or other I got him out; but that +minute I'd given to listening to Satan had very nearly chucked us +both to our death, and we only just come off by the skin of our +teeth. The crowd cheered like mad when I dragged him out. + +I was burned awfully bad, and such good looks as I'd had burnt off +me, and I didn't know nothing plainly for many a long day. + +And when I come to myself I was in a hospital, and there was a +sweet-faced charity sister sitting looking at me, and, by the Lord, +if it wasn't Amelia! And she fell on her knees beside me, and she +says, 'Tom, I must tell you. + +Ever since I found religion I've known what a wicked girl I was. O +Tom, to see you lying there, so ill! O Tom, forgive me, or I shall +go mad, I know I shall!' + +And, with that, she told me straight out, holding nothing back, that +what she'd said to me that night eight years ago was a lie, no +better; and that who I'd seen in the church porch with young Wheeler +was not Jenny at all, but Amelia herself, dressed in Jenny's things. + +'Oh, forgive me, Tom!' says Amelia, the tears runnin' over her nun's +dress. 'Forgive me, Tom, for I can never forgive myself! I knew +Jenny didn't rightly care about you, Tom, and I loved you so dear. +And Wheeler wanted Jenny, and so I was tempted to play off that +trick on you; I thought you would come round to me after.' + +I was weak still with my illness, but I put my hand on hers, and I +says, 'I do forgive you, Amelia, for, after all, you done it for +love of me. And are you a nun, my dear?' says I. + +'No,' says she, 'I'm only on liking as it were; if I don't like them +or they don't like me, I can leave any minute.' + +'Then leave, for God's sake,' says I, 'if you've got a bit of love +for me left. Let bygones be bygones, and marry me as soon as I come +out of this, for it's worth something to be loved as you've loved +me, Amelia, and I was always fond of you.' + +'What?' says she. 'Me marry you, and be happy after all the harm +I've done? You run away from your articles and turned fireman, and +Jenny married to a drunken brute--no, Tom, no! I don't deserve to be +happy; but, if you forgive me, I shan't be as miserable as I was.' + +'Well,' says I, 'if ever you think better of it let me know.' + +And the curious thing is that, within two years, she did think +better of it--for why? That fire had sobered Wheeler more than +twenty thousand temperance tracts, and all the Sons of the Phoenix +and Bands of Hope rolled into one. He never touched a drop of drink +since that day, and Jenny's as happy as her kind ever is. I hear she +didn't fret over me more than a month, though perhaps that's only +what I deserved, writing to her as I did. And then Amelia she +said--'No such harm done then after all.' So she married me. + +Now, you see, if I'd listened to Satan and hadn't pulled Wheeler +out, I shouldn't have got burned, and I shouldn't have got into the +hospital, and I shouldn't have found Amelia again, and then where +should I have been? Whereas now, we're farming the same bit of land +that my father farmed before us. And if this was a made-up story, +Amelia would have had to drowned herself or something, and I should +have gone a-weeping and a-wailing for Jenny all my born days; but as +it's true and really happened, Amelia and me have been punished +enough, I think; for eight years of unhappiness is only a few words +of print in a story-book, but when you've got to live them, every +day of them, eight years is eight years, as Amelia and I shall +remember till our dying day; and eight years unhappiness is enough +punishment for most of the wrong things a man can do, or a woman +either for that matter. + + +COALS OF FIRE + + +ALL my life I've lived on a barge. My father, he worked a barge from +London to Tonbridge, and 'twas on a barge I first see the light when +my mother's time come. I used to wish sometimes as I could 'ave +lived in a cottage with a few bits of flowers in the front, but I +think if I'd been put to it I should have chose the barge rather +than the finest cottage ever I see. When I come to be grown up and +took a husband of my own it was a bargeman I took, of course. He was +a good sort always, was my Tom, though not particular about Sundays +and churchgoings and such like, as my father always was. It used to +be a sorrow to me in my young married days to think as Tom was so +far from the Lord, and I used to pray that 'is eyes might be opened +and that 'e might be led to know the truth like me, which was vanity +on my part, for I've come to see since that like as not 'e was +nearer the Lord nor ever I was. + +We worked the William and Mary, did Tom and me, and I used to think +no one could be 'appier than we was them first two years. Tom was as +kind as kind, and never said a hard word to me except when he was in +liquor; and as to liftin' his 'and to me, no, never in his life. But +after two years we got a little baby of our own, and then I knew as +I hadn't known what 'appiness was before. She was such a pretty +little thing, with yellow hair, soft and fluffy all over her head, +the colour of a new-hatched duck, and blue eyes and dear little +hands that I used to kiss a thousand times a day. + +My mother had married beneath her, they said, for she'd been to +school and been in service in a good family, and she taught me to +read and write and cipher in the old days, when I was a little kid +along of 'er in the barge. So we named our little kid Mary to be +like our boat, and as soon as she was big enough, I taught 'er all +my mother had taught me, and when she was about eight year old my +Tom's great-uncle James, who was a tinsmith by trade, left us a bit +of money--over L 200 it were. + +'Not a penny of it shall I spend,' says my Tom when he heard of it; +'we'll send our Mary to school with that, we will; and happen she'll +be a lady's-maid and get on in the world.' + +So we put her to boarding-school in Maidstone, and it was like +tearing the heart out of my body. And she'd been away from us a +fortnight, and the barge was like hell without her, Tom said, and I +felt it too though I couldn't say it, being a Christian woman; and +one night we'd got the barge fast till morning in Stoneham Lock, and +we were a-settin' talking about her. + +'Don't you fret, old woman,' says Tom, with the tears standin' in +his eyes, 'she's better off where she is, and she'll thank us for it +some day. She's 'appier where she is,' says 'e, 'nor she would be in +this dirty old barge along of us.' + +And just as he said it, I says, ''Ark! what's that?' And we both +listened, and if it wasn't that precious child standing on the bank +callin' 'Daddy,' and she'd run all the way from Maidstone in 'er +little nightgown, and a waterproof over it. + +P'raps if we'd been sensible parents, we should 'ave smacked 'er and +put 'er back next day; but as it was we hugged 'er, and we hugged +each other till we was all out o' breath, and then she set up on 'er +daddy's knee, and 'ad a bit o' cold pork and a glass of ale for 'er +supper along of us, and there was no more talk of sendin' 'er back +to school. But we put by the bit of money to set 'er up if she +should marry or want to go into business some day. + +And she lived with us on the barge, and though I ses it there wasn't +a sweeter girl nor a better girl atwixt London and Tonbridge. + +When she was risin' seventeen, I looked for the young men to be +comin' after 'er; and come after 'er they did, and more than one and +more than two, but there was only one as she ever give so much as a +kind look to, and that was Bill Jarvis, the blacksmith's son at +Farleigh. Whenever our barge was lyin' in the river of a Sunday, he +would walk down in 'is best in the afternoon to pass the time of day +with us, and presently it got to our Mary walking out with 'im +regular. + +'Blest if it ain't going to be "William and Mary" after all,' says +my old man. + +'He was pleased, I could see, for Bill Jarvis, he'd been put to his +father's trade, and 'e might look to come into his father's business +in good time, and barrin' a bit of poaching, which is neither here +nor there, in my opinion there wasn't a word to be said against 'im. + +And so things went along, and they was all jolly except me, but I +had it tugging at my heart day and night, that the little gell as +'ad been my very own these seventeen years wouldn't be mine no +longer soon, and, God forgive me, I hated Bill Jarvis, and I +wouldn't 'ave been sorry if I'd 'eard as 'arm 'ad come to him. + +The wedding was fixed for the Saturday; we was to 'ave a nice little +spread at the Rose and Crown, and the young folks was to go 'ome and +stay at old Jarvis's at Farleigh, and I was to lose my Pretty. And +on the Friday night, my old man, 'e went up to the Rose and Crown to +see about things and to get a drink along of 'is mates, and when 'e +come back I looked to see 'im a little bit on maybe, as was only +natural, the night before the weddin' and all. But 'e come back +early, and 'e come back sober, but with a face as white as my apron. + +'Bess,' says 'e to me, 'where's the girl?' + +'She's in 'er bunk asleep,' says I, 'lookin' as pretty as a picture. +She's been out with 'er sweet'eart,' says I. 'O Tom, this is the +last night she'll lay in that little bunk as she's laid in every +night of 'er life, except that wicked fortnight we sent 'er to +school.' + +'Look 'ere,' says 'e, speaking in a whisper, 'I've 'eard summat up +at the Rose and Crown: Bank's broke, and all our money's gone. I see +it in the paper, so it must be true.' + +'You don't mean it, Tom,' says I; 'it can't be true.' + +''Tis true, though, by God,' says 'e, ''ere, don't take on so, old +girl,' for I'd begun to cry. 'More's been lost on market-days, as +they say: our little girl's well provided for, for old Jarvis, 'e's +a warm man.' + +'She won't 'ave a day's peace all 'er life,' says I, 'goin' +empty-'anded into that 'ouse. I know old Mother Jarvis--a cat: we'd +best tell the child, p'raps she won't marry 'im if she knows she's +nothing to take to 'im,' and, God forgive me, my 'eart jumped up at +the thought. + +'No, best leave it be,' says my old man, 'they're fair sweet on each +other.' + +And so the next morning we all went up to the church, me cryin' all +the way as if it was 'er buryin' we was a-goin' to and not 'er +marryin'. The parson was at the church and a lot of folks as knew +us, us 'avin' bin in those parts so long; but none of the +bridegroom's people was there, nor yet the bridegroom. + +And we waited and we waited, my Pretty as pale as a snowdrop in her +white bonnet. And when it was a hour past the time, Tom, 'e ups and +says out loud in the church, for all the parson and me said ''Ush!' +'I'm goin' back 'ome,' says 'e; 'there won't be no weddin' to-day; +'e shan't 'ave 'er now,' says my old man, 'not if 'e comes to fetch +'er in a coach and six cram full of bank-notes,' says 'e. + +And with that 'e catches 'old of Mary in one and and me in the +other, and turns to go out of church, and at the door, who should we +meet but old Mother Jarvis, 'er that I'd called a cat in my wicked +spite only the day before. The tears was runnin' down her fat +cheeks, and as soon as she saw my Pretty, she caught 'er in 'er arms +and 'ugged 'er like as if she'd been 'er own. 'God forgive 'im,' +says she, 'I never could, for all he's my own son. He's gone off for +a soldier, and 'e left a letter sayin' you wasn't to think any more +of 'im, for 'e wasn't a marryin' man.' + +'It's that dam money,' says my goodman, forgettin' 'e was in church; +'that was all 'e wanted, but it ain't what he'll get,' says 'e. 'You +keep 'im out of my way, for it 'ull be the worse for 'im if 'e comes +within the reach of my fisties.' + +And with that we went along 'ome, the three of us. And the sun kept +a-shinin' just as if there was nothin' wrong, and the skylarks +a-singin' up in the blue sky till I would a-liked to wring their +necks for them. + +And we 'ad to go on up and down the river as usual, for it was our +livin', you see, and we couldn't get away from the place where +everybody knew the slight that had been put upon my Pretty. You'd +think p'raps that was as bad as might be, but it wasn't the worst. + +We was beginnin' June then, and by the end of August I knew that +what my Pretty 'ad gone through at the church was nothin' to what +she'd got to go through. Her face got pale and thin, and she didn't +fancy 'er food. + +I suppose I ought to 'ave bin angry with her, for we'd always kept +ourselves respectable; and I know if you spare the rod you spoil the +child, and I felt I ought to tell her I didn't 'old with such +wickedness; so one night when 'er father, 'e was up at the Rose and +Crown, and she, a-settin' on the bank with 'er elbows on 'er knees +and 'er chin in 'er 'ands, I says to 'er, 'You can't 'ide it no +longer, my girl: I know all about it, you wicked, bad girl, you.' + +And then she turned and looked at me like a dog does when you 'it +it. 'O mother,' says she, 'O mother!' And with that I forgot +everything about bein' angry with 'er, and I 'ad 'er in my arms in a +minute, and we was 'oldin' each other as hard as hard. + +'It was the night before the weddin',' says she, in a whisper. 'O +mother, I didn't think there was any harm in it, and us so nearly +man and wife.' + +'My Pretty,' says I, for she was cryin' pitiful, 'don't 'e take on +so, don't: there'll be the little baby by-and-by, and us 'ull love +it as dear as if you'd been married in church twenty times over.' + +'Ah, but father,' says she; 'he'll kill me when 'e knows.' + +Well, I put 'er to bed and I made 'er a cup of strong tea, and I +kissed 'er and covered 'er up with my heart like lead, and nobody as +ain't a mother can know what a merry-go-round of misery I'd got in +my head that night. And when my old man come 'ome I told 'im, and +'Don't be 'ard on the girl, for God's sake,' says I, 'for she's our +own child and our only child, and it was the night before the +weddin' as should 'ave bin.' + +''Ard on 'er?' says 'e, and I'd never 'eard 'is voice so soft, not +even when 'e was courtin' me, or when my Pretty was a little un, and +'e hushin' her to sleep. ''Ard on 'er? 'Ard on my precious lamb? It +ain't us men who is 'ard on them things, it's you wimmen-folk; the +day before 'er weddin', too!' + +Then 'e was quiet for a bit--then 'e takes 'is shoes off so as not +to make a clatter on the steps near where she slept, and 'e comes +out in a minute with my Bible in 'is 'and. + +'Now,' says 'e, very quiet, 'you needn't be afraid of my bein' 'ard +on 'er, but if ever I meet 'im, I'll 'ave 'is blood, if I swing for +it, and I'm goin' to swear it on this 'ere Bible--so help me God!' + +He looked like a mad thing; his eyes was a-shinin' like lanterns, +and 'is face all pulled out of its proper shape; and 'e plumps down +on 'is knees there, on the deck, with the Bible in 'is 'ands. And +before I knew what I was doin', I'd caught the book out of 'is +'ands, and chucked it into the river, my own Bible, that my own +mother had given me when I was a little kid, and I threw my arms +round his neck, and held his head against my bosom, so that his +mouth was shut, and 'e couldn't speak. + +'No, no, no, Tom,' says I, 'you mustn't swear it, and you shan't. +Think of the girl, think of your poor old woman, think of the poor +little kid that's comin', what ud us all do without you? And you +hanged for the sake of such trash as that! Why, 'e ain't worth it,' +says I, tryin' to laugh. + +Then 'e got 'is 'ead out of my arms and stood lookin' about 'im, +like a man that's 'ad a bad dream and 'as just waked up. Then 'e +smacks me on the back, 'All right, old woman,' says 'e, 'we won't +swear nothin', but it'll be a bad day for him when 'e comes a-nigh +the William and Mary.' + +So no more was said. And we got through the winter somehow, and the +baby was born, as fine a gell as ever you see; and what I said come +true, for we couldn't none of us 'ave loved the baby more if its +father and mother 'ad been married by an archbishop in Westminster +Abbey. And the folks we knew along the banks would have been kind to +my Pretty, but she wouldn't never show her face to any of them. +'I've got you, mother, and I've got father and the baby, and I don't +want no one else,' says she. + +My Tom, he wasn't never the same man after that night 'e 'd got out +the Bible to swear. He give up the drink, but it didn't make 'im no +cheerfuller, and 'e went to church now and then, a thing I'd never +known 'im do since we was married. And time went on, and it was +August again, with a big yellow moon in the sky. + +My Pretty and the baby was in bed, and the old man and me, we was +just a-turnin' in, when we 'eard some one a-runnin' along the +tow-path. My old man puts 'is 'ead out to see who's there, and as 'e +looked a man come runnin' along close by where we was moored, and 'e +jumped on to our barge, not stoppin' to look at the name, and, 'For +God's sake, hide me!' says 'e, and it was a soldier in a red coat +with a scared face, as I see by the light of the moon. And it was +Bill Jarvis what 'ad brought our girl to shame and run away and left +'er on 'er weddin' morn; and I looked to see my old man take 'im by +the shoulder and chuck 'im into the water. And Jarvis didn't see +whose barge he'd come aboard of. + +'I've got in a row,' says 'e; 'I knocked a man down and he's dead. +Oh, for God's sake, hide me! I've run all the way from Chatham.' + +Then my old man, he steps out on the deck, and Jarvis, 'e see who it +was, and--'O my God!' says 'e, and 'e almost fell back in the water +in 'is fright. + +Then my old man, 'e took that soldier by the arm, and 'e open the +door of the little cabin where my Pretty and 'er baby were. Then 'e +slammed it to again. 'No, I can't,' says 'e, 'by God, I can't.' And +before the soldier could speak, he'd dragged him down our cabin +stairs, and shoved 'im into 'is own bunk and chucked the covers over +'im. Then 'e come up to where I was standin' in the moonlight. + +'What ever you done that for?' says I. 'Why not 'a give 'im up to +serve 'im out for what 'e done to our Pretty?' + +He looked at me stupid-like. 'I don't know why,' says 'e, 'but I +can't'; and we stood there in the quiet night, me a-holding on to +'is arm, for I was shivering, so I could hardly stand. + +And presently half a dozen soldiers come by with a sergeant. + +'Hullo!' cries the sergeant, 'see any redcoat go this way?' + +'He's gone up over the bridge,' says Tom, not turnin' a 'air, 'im +that I'd never 'eard tell a lie in his life before,--'You'll catch +'im if you look slippy; what's 'e done?' + +'Only murder and desertion,' says the sergeant, as cheerful as you +please. + +'Oh, is that all?' says my old man; 'good-night to you.' + +'Good-night,' says the sergeant, and off they went. + +They didn't come back our way. We was a-goin' down stream, and we +passed Chatham next mornin'. + +Bill Jarvis, 'e lay close in the bunk, and my Pretty, she wouldn't +come out of 'er cabin; and at Chatham, my old man, 'e says, 'I'm +goin' ashore for a bit, old woman; you lay-to and wait for me.' And +he went. + +Then I went in to my Pretty and I told her all about it, for she +knew nothin' but that Jarvis was aboard; and when I'd told 'er, she +said, 'I couldn't 'a' done it, no, not for a kingdom.' + +'No more couldn't I,' ses I. 'Father's a better chap nor you and me, +my Pretty.' + +Presently my old man come back from the town, and he goes down to +the bunk where Bill Jarvis is lying, and 'e says, 'Look 'ere, Bill,' +says 'e, 'you didn't kill your man last night, and after all, it was +in a fair rough-and-tumble. The man's doing well. You take my tip +and go back and give yourself up; they won't be 'ard on you.' + +And Bill 'e looked at 'im all of a tremble. 'By God,' says 'e, +'you're a good man!' + +'It's more than you are, then, you devil,' says Tom. 'Get along, out +of my sight,' says 'e, 'before I think better of it.' + +And that soldier was off that barge before you could say 'knife,' +and we didn't see no more of 'im. + +But we was up at Hamsted Lock the next summer. The baby was +beginnin' to toddle about now; we'd called her Bessie for me. She +and her mother was a-settin' in the meadow pickin' the daisies, when +I see a soldier a-comin' along the meadow-path, and if it wasn't +that Bill Jarvis again. He stopped short when he saw my Pretty. + +'Well, Mary?' says 'e. + +'Well, Bill?' says she. + +'Is that my kid?' says 'e. + +'Whose else's would it be?' says she, flashing up at him; 'ain't it +enough to deceive a girl, and desert her, without throwing mud in +her face on the top of it all? Whose else's should the child be but +yours?' + +'Go easy,' says Bill, 'I didn't mean that, my girl. Look 'ere, says +'e, 'I got out of that scrape, thanks to your father, and I want to +let bygones be bygones, and I'll marry you to-morrow, if you like, +and be a father to the kid.' + +Then Mary, she stood up on her feet, with the little one in 'er +arms. + +'Marry you!' says she, 'I wouldn't marry you if you was the only man +in the world. Me marry a man as could serve a girl as you served me? +Not if it was to save me from hanging? Me give the kid a father like +you? Thank God, the child's my own, and you can't touch it. I tell +you,' says she, 'shame and all, I'd rather have things as they are, +than have married you in church and 'ave found out afterwards what a +cowardly beast you are.' + +And with that she walks past 'im, looking like a queen, and down +into her cabin; and 'e was left a-standin' there sucking the end of +his stick and looking like a fool. + +'I think, perhaps,' says I afterwards, 'you ought to 'ave let 'im +make an honest woman of you.' + +'I'm as honest as I want to be,' says she, 'and the child is all my +own now.' So no more was said. + +And things went on the same old sleepy way, like they always do on +the river, and we forgot the shame almost, in the pleasure of having +the little thing about us. And so the time went on, till one day at +Maidstone a Sister of Charity with one of those white caps and a big +cross round her neck, come down to the water's side inquiring for +Tom Allbutt. + +'That's me,' says my old man. + +'There's a young man ill in hospital,' says she. 'He's dying, I'm +afraid, and he wants to see you before he goes. It's typhoid fever, +but that's over now; he's dying of weakness, they say.' + +And when we asked the young man's name, of course it was Bill +Jarvis. So we left my Pretty in charge of the barge, and my old man +and me, we went up to the hospital. + +Bill was so changed you wouldn't 'ardly 'ave known 'im. From being a +fleshy, red-cheeked young fellow, he'd come to be as thin as a +skeleton, and 'is eyes seemed to fill half 'is face. + +'I want to marry Mary,' says 'e. 'I'm dying, I can't do her and the +kid no 'arm now, and I should die easier if she'd marry me here; the +chaplain would do it--he said so.' + +My old man didn't say nothin', but says I, 'I would dearly like her +to be made an honest woman of.' + +'It's me that wants to be made an honest man of,' says Bill. And +with that my old man, he took his hand and shook it. Then says Bill +with the tears runnin' down his cheeks,--partly from weakness, I +suppose, for 'e wasn't the crying sort--'So help me God, I never +knew what a beast I was till that day I come to you in your barge +and you showed me what a man was, Tom Allbutt; you did, so, and I've +been trying to be a man ever since, and I've given up the drink, and +I've lived steady, and I've never so much as looked at another girl +since that night. Oh, get her to be my wife,' says 'e, 'and let me +die easy.' + +And I went and fetched 'er, and she came along with me with the +child in her arms; and the chaplain married them then and there. I +don't know how it was the banns didn't have to be put up, but it was +managed somehow. + +'And you'll stay with me till I die,' says 'e, 'won't you, Mary, you +and the kid?' + +But he didn't die, he got better, and there isn't a couple happier +than him and Mary, for all they've gone through. + +And the doctor says it was Mary saved his life, for it was after he +had had a little talk with her that he took a turn for the better. + +'Mary,' says 'e, 'I've been a bad lot, and you was in the right when +you called me a coward and a beast; but your father showed me what a +man was, and I've tried to be a man. You was fond of me once, Mary; +you'll love me a little when I'm gone, and don't let the kid think +unkind of her daddy.' + +'Love you when you're gone?' says she, cryin' all over 'er face, and +kissin' 'im as if it was for a wager; 'you ain't a-goin' to die, +you're goin' to live along of me and baby. Love you when you're +gone?' says she, 'why, I've loved you all the time!' she says. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg Etext of In Homespun, by E. Nesbit + diff --git a/old/nhmsp10.zip b/old/nhmsp10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..4637d77 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/nhmsp10.zip |