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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 58355 ***
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+  THE
+  THREE BROTHERS
+
+  BY
+
+  EDEN PHILLPOTTS
+
+  AUTHOR OF "THE SECRET WOMAN," "THE AMERICAN
+  PRISONER," "CHILDREN OF THE MIST," ETC.
+
+
+
+  New York
+  THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
+  1909
+  _All rights reserved_
+
+
+
+
+  COPYRIGHT, 1909,
+  BY THE MACMILLAN COMPANY.
+
+  Set up and electrotyped.  Published January, 1909.
+
+
+
+  _Norwood Press
+  J. S. Cushing Co.--Berwick & Smith Co.
+  Norwood, Mass., U.S.A._
+
+
+
+
+  TO
+  MY BROTHER
+  HERBERT MACDONALD PHILLPOTTS
+  A SMALL TRIBUTE OF
+  GREAT AFFECTION
+
+
+
+
+THE THREE BROTHERS
+
+
+
+BOOK I
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+From Great Trowlesworthy's crown of rosy granite the world extended to
+the moor-edge, and thence, by mighty, dim, air-drenched passages of
+earth and sky, to the horizons of the sea.  A clear May noon
+illuminated the waste, and Dartmoor, soaking her fill of sunshine, ran
+over with it, so that Devon's self spread little darker of bosom than
+the grey and silver of high clouds lifted above her, mountainous under
+the sun.
+
+Hills and plains were still mottled with the winter coat of the
+heather, and the verdure of the spearing grasses suffered diminution
+under a far-flung pallor of dead blades above breaking green; but the
+face of Dartmoor began to glow and the spring gorse leapt like a
+running flame along it.  At water's brink was starry silver of
+crow-foot, and the heath, still darkling, sheltered sky-blue milk-wort
+and violet and the budding gold of the tormentil.
+
+One white road ran due north-east and south-west across the desert, and
+round about it, like the tents of the Anakim, rose huge snowy hillocks
+and ridges silver-bright in the sun.  Here the venerable Archæan
+granites of Dartmoor, that on Trowlesworthy blush to a ruddy splendour,
+and elsewhere break beautifully in fair colour and fine grain through
+the coarser porphyritic stone, suffer a change, and out of their
+perishing constituents emerges kaolin, or china clay.
+
+A river met this naked road, and at their junction the grey bridge of
+Cadworthy saddled Plym.  Beyond, like the hogged back of a brown bear,
+Wigford Down rolled above the gorges of Dewerstone, and further yet,
+retreated fields and forests, great uplifted plains, and sudden
+elevations that glimmered along their crests with the tender green of
+distant larch and beech.
+
+The atmosphere was opalescent, milky, sweet, as though earth's sap,
+leaping to the last tree-tip and bursting bud, exuded upon air the very
+visible incense and savour of life.  Running water and lifting lark
+made the music of this hour; and at one spot on the desert a girl's
+voice mingled with them and enlarged the melody, for it was gentle and
+musical and belonged to the springtime.
+
+She sat high on Trowlesworthy, where the rushes chatter and where, to
+their eternal treble, the wind strikes deep organ music from the
+forehead of the tor.  From the clefts of the rocks around her, where
+foxes homed sometimes and the hawk made her nest, there hung now russet
+tassels and tufts of dead lady-fern; and above this rack of the old
+year sprang dark green aigrettes of the new.
+
+Stonecrops and pennyworts also flourished amid the uncurling fronds;
+aloft, the heath and whortle made curls for the great tor's brow;
+below, to the girl's feet, there sloped up boulders that shone with
+fabric of golden-brown mosses and dappled lichens, jade-green and grey.
+The woodsorrel had climbed hither, and its frail bells and sparkling
+trefoils glittered on the earth.
+
+The sun shone with a thready lustre over the million flattened dead
+rushes roundabout this place, and its light spread out upon them into a
+pool of pale gold.  Thus a radiance as of water extended here and the
+wind, fretting all this death, heightened the deception; while the
+scattered rocks shone brilliantly against so much reflected light and
+looked like boulders half submerged at the fringe of a glittering sea.
+
+The girl laughed and gazed down at her home.  It was a squat grey
+building half-way between the red tor and the distant bridge.  It stood
+amid bright green crofts, and beside it was a seemly hayrick and an
+unseemly patch of rufous light that stared--hideous as a bloodshot
+eye--from the harmonious textures of the waste.  There a shippen under
+an iron roof sank to rusty dissolution.
+
+Here was Trowlesworthy Farm and a great rabbit warren that extended
+round about it.
+
+Milly Luscombe lived at Trowlesworthy with an uncle and aunt.  She was
+accustomed to work very hard for her living, but for the moment she did
+not work.  She only breathed the breath of spring and talked of love.
+
+Beside her sat a sturdy youth with a red face and a little budding
+flaxen moustache.  His countenance was not cast in a cheerful mould.
+Indeed, he frowned and gazed gloomily out of large grey eyes at the
+valley beneath him.
+
+"I axed father in plain words if I might be tokened to you--of course,
+that was if you said 'yes'--and he answered as plainly that I might
+not.  You see, he was terrible up in years afore he got married
+himself, and so he thinks a man's a fool to go into it young."
+
+"How old was he then?"
+
+"Forty-five to the day.  And he's seventy next month, though he don't
+feel or look anything like so much.  He's full of old, stale sayings
+about marrying in haste and repenting at leisure: and such like.  So
+there it is, Milly."
+
+The girl nodded.  She was a dark maiden with brown eyes and a pretty
+mouth.  She sniffed rather tearfully and wiped her eyes with the corner
+of her sun-bonnet.
+
+"Belike your father only waited so long because the right one didn't
+come.  When he found your mother, I'm sure he married her quick enough."
+
+"No, he didn't.  They was tokened when he was forty, and kept company
+for five years."
+
+"That ban't loving," she said.
+
+"Of course it ban't!  And yet father isn't what you might call a hard
+man.  Far from it, to all but me.  A big-hearted, kindly creature and a
+good father, if he could only understand more.  Like a boy in some
+things.  I'm sure I feel a lot older than him sometimes.  If 'twas Ned
+now, he'd be friendly and easy as you please."
+
+"What does Mrs. Baskerville say?"
+
+"She's on our side, and so's my sisters.  Polly and May think the world
+of you.  'Tisn't as if I was like my brother Ned--a lazy chap that
+hates the sight of work.  I stand to work same as father himself, and
+he knows that; and when there's anything calling to be done, 'tis
+always, 'Where be Rupert to?"  But lazy as Ned is, he'd let him marry
+to-morrow."
+
+"Mr. Baskerville's frighted of losing you from Cadworthy, Rupert."
+
+The young man looked out where a wood rose south of the bridge, and his
+father's farm lifted its black chimneys above the trees.
+
+"He tells me I'm his right hand; and yet refuses, though this is the
+first thing that ever I've asked him," he said.
+
+"Wouldn't he suffer it if you promised him to do as he done, and not
+marry for five years?"
+
+"I'll promise no such thing.  Father seems to think 'tis all moonshine,
+but I shall have another go at him when he comes home next week.  Till
+then I shan't see you no more, for I've promised myself to get through
+a mighty pile of work--just to astonish him."
+
+"The harder you work, the more he'll want you to bide at home," she
+said.  "Not that I mind you working.  All the best sort work--I know
+that."
+
+"I must work--no credit to me.  I'm like father there.  I ban't
+comfortable if I don't get through a good lump of work in the day."
+
+She looked at him with large admiration.
+
+"Where's Mr. Baskerville gone to?"
+
+"To Bideford for the wrestlin' matches.  He always stands stickler when
+there's a big wrestlin'.  Such a famous man he was at it--champion of
+Devon for nine years.  He retired after he was married.  But now, just
+on his seventieth birthday, he's as clever as any of 'em.  'Twas his
+great trouble, I do believe, that neither me nor Ned ever shaped well
+at it.  But we haven't got his weight.  We take after my mother's
+people and be light built men--compared to father."
+
+"Pity May weren't a boy," said Milly.  "She's got weight enough."
+
+"Yes," he admitted.  "She's the very daps of father.  She'll be a
+whacker when she grows up.  'Tis a nuisance for a woman being made so
+terrible beamy.  But there 'tis--and a happier creature never had to
+walk slow up a hill."
+
+Silence fell for a while between them.
+
+"We must wait and hope," she declared at last.  "I shan't change,
+Rupert--you know that."
+
+"Right well I know it, and more shan't I."
+
+"You're just turned twenty-three and I'm eighteen.  After all, we've
+got plenty of time," said Milly.
+
+"I hope so.  But that's no reason why for we should waste it.  'Tis all
+wasted till I get you."
+
+She put her hand out to him, and he caught it and held it.
+
+"It might be a long sight worse," she said.  "'Tis only a matter of
+patience."
+
+"There's no need for patience, and there lies the cruelty.  However,
+I'll push him hard when he comes home.  Tokened I will be to 'e--not in
+secret, but afore the nation."
+
+"Look!" she said.  "Two men riding up over.  Go a bit further off,
+there's a dear."
+
+Rupert looked where she pointed, and then he showed no little
+astonishment and concern.
+
+"Good Lord!" he exclaimed.  "If 'tisn't my Uncle Humphrey Baskerville;
+and Mark along with him.  What the mischief sent them here, of all
+ways?  Can't we hide?"
+
+But no hiding-place offered.  Therefore the young people rose and
+walked boldly forward.
+
+"He's going out to Hen Tor to look at they ruins, I reckon," said
+Milly.  "I met your cousin Mark a bit ago, and he told me his father
+was rather interested in that old rogues-roost of a place they call Hen
+Tor House.  Why for I can't say; but that's where they be riding, I
+doubt."
+
+Two men on ponies arrived as she spoke, and drew up beside the lovers.
+
+The elder exhibited a cast of countenance somewhat remarkable.  He was
+a thin, under-sized man with grey hair.  His narrow, clean-shorn face
+sloped wedge-shaped to a pointed chin, and his mouth was lipless and
+very hard.  Grotesquely large black eyebrows darkened his forehead, but
+they marked no arch.  They were set in two patches or tufts, and moved
+freely up and down over a pair of rather dim grey eyes.  The appearance
+of dimness, however, was not real, for Humphrey Baskerville possessed
+good sight.  He was sixty-three years old, and a widower.  He passed
+for a harsh, secretive man, and lived two miles from his elder brother,
+Vivian Baskerville, of Cadworthy.  His household consisted of himself,
+his son Mark, and his housekeeper.
+
+"Good morning, Uncle Humphrey," said Rupert, taking the bull by the
+horns.  "You know Milly Luscombe, don't you?  Morning, Mark."
+
+Mr. Baskerville's black tufts went up and his slit of a mouth elongated.
+
+"What's this then?" he asked.  "Fooling up here with a girl--you?  I
+hope you're not taking after your good-for-nothing brother?"
+
+"Needn't fear that, uncle."
+
+"How's Mr. Luscombe?" asked the old man abruptly, turning to the girl.
+
+Milly feared nobody--not even this much-feared and mysterious
+person--and now she turned to him and patted his old pony's neck as she
+answered--
+
+"Very well, thank you, Mr. Baskerville, and I'm sure he'd hope you are
+the same."
+
+The tufts came down and he looked closely at her.
+
+"You playing truant too--eh?  Well, why not?  'Tis too fine a day for
+work, perhaps."
+
+"So it is, then.  Even your old blind pony knows that."
+
+"Only blind the near side," he answered.  "He can see more with one eye
+than many humans can with both."
+
+"What's his name, please?"
+
+"I don't know.  Never gave him one."
+
+They walked a little way forward, while Rupert stopped behind and spoke
+to his cousin Mark.
+
+"So you like that boy very much--eh?" said the old man drily and
+suddenly to Milly.
+
+She coloured up and nodded.
+
+"Nonsense and foolery!"
+
+"If 'tis, I wouldn't exchange it for your sense, Mr. Baskerville."
+
+He made a deep grunt, like a bear.
+
+"That's the pert way childer speak to the old folk now--is it?"
+
+"Even you was in love once?"
+
+"Nonsense and foolery--nonsense and foolery!"
+
+"Would you do different if you could go back?"
+
+He did not answer the question.
+
+"I doubt you're too good for Rupert Baskerville," he said.
+
+"He's too good for me."
+
+"He stands to work--I grant that.  But he's young, and he's foolish,
+like all young things.  Think better of it.  Keep away from the young
+men.  Work--work--work your fingers to the bone.  That's the only wise
+way.  I'm going to look at yonder ruin on the side of Hen Tor.  I may
+build it up again and live there and die there."
+
+"What!  Leave Hawk House, Mr. Baskerville?"
+
+"Why not?  'Tis too much in the world for me and Mark."
+
+"'Tis the loneliest house in these parts."
+
+"Too much in the world," he repeated.
+
+"That's nonsense and foolery, if you like," she said calmly; "I'm sure
+love-making be all plain common-sense compared to that."
+
+He pulled up and regarded her with a grim stare.
+
+"I've found somebody to-day that isn't afraid of me, seemingly."
+
+"Why for should I be?"
+
+"For no reason, except that most others are.  What do they all think?
+I'll tell you; they think I'm wrong here."
+
+He tilted up his black wide-awake hat and tapped his forehead.
+
+"Surely never!  The folk only be frightened of your great wittiness--so
+I believe.  Rupert always says that you are terrible clever."
+
+"That shows he's a terrible fool.  Don't you mate with a fool, Milly."
+
+"I'll promise that anyway, sir."
+
+She spoke with perfect self-possession and interested the old man.
+Then he found that he was interested, and turned upon himself
+impatiently and shouted to his son.
+
+"Come on, boy!  What are you dawdling there for?"
+
+Mark instantly dug his heels into his pony and followed his father.  He
+was a youthful edition of the elder, with a difference.  Humphrey was
+ill-clad, and Mark was neat.  Humphrey's voice was harsh and
+disagreeable; Mark's was soft and almost womanly.  Mark also had a
+smooth face and heavy eyebrows; but his features were clearer cut, more
+delicate; his eyes were blue and beautiful.  He had a manner somewhat
+timid and retiring.  He was not a cringing man, but a native deference
+guided him in all dealings with his kind.
+
+Before starting, Mr. Baskerville stopped, drew a letter from his
+pocket, and called to Rupert.
+
+"Take this to my brother Vivian, will you?  I was going to leave it on
+the way back, but I'll not waste his time."
+
+The youth came forward and took the letter.
+
+"Father's away to Bideford--standing stickler for the wrestlin'," he
+said.
+
+"Good God!  At his age!  Can't an old man of seventy find nothing
+better and wiser to do than run after childish things like that?"
+
+The son was silent, and his uncle, with a snort of deep disdain, rode
+forward.
+
+"'Tis about the birthday," Rupert explained to Milly.  "In June father
+will turn seventy, and there is to be a rare fuss made, and a spread,
+and all the family to come round him at Cadworthy.  Of course, Uncle
+Nat will come.  In fact, 'twas his idea that we should have a
+celebration about it; but I doubt if Uncle Humphrey will.  He'd think
+such a thing all rubbish, no doubt, for he's against every sort of
+merry-making.  You see how he went just now when I told him father was
+gone to the wrestlin' matches."
+
+"Don't you mind him too much, all the same," said Milly.  "He looks
+terrible grim and says dreadful things, but I don't believe he's half
+in earnest.  I ban't feared of him, and never will be.  Don't you be
+neither."
+
+They left the tor and proceeded to the girl's home beneath.  The
+close-cropped turf of the warrens spread in a green and resilient
+carpet under their feet; and, flung in a mighty pattern upon it, young
+red leaves of whortleberry broke through and spattered the miles of
+turf with a haze of russet.
+
+Rupert said farewell at the entrance; then he hastened homeward and
+presently reached his family circle as it was preparing to dine.
+
+Hester Baskerville, the wife of Vivian, was a quiet, fair woman of fine
+bearing and above middle height.  She was twenty years younger than her
+husband, but the union had been a happy and successful one in every
+respect, and the woman's mild nature and large patience had chimed well
+with the man's strong self-assertion, narrow outlook, and immovable
+opinions.  Kindness of heart and generosity of spirit distinguished
+them both; and these precious traits were handed to the children of the
+marriage, six in number.
+
+Ned Baskerville, the eldest son, was considered the least satisfactory
+and the best looking.  Then came Rupert, a commonplace edition of Ned,
+but worth far more as a responsible being.  These men resembled their
+mother and both lived at home.  Young Nathan Baskerville followed.  He
+was a sailor and seldom seen at Cadworthy.  The two girls of this
+family succeeded Nathan.  May and Polly were like their father--of dark
+complexion and inclined to stoutness; while the baby of the household
+was Humphrey, a youngster of thirteen, called after the dreaded uncle.
+
+All save Nat, the sailor, were at table when Rupert entered with his
+letter, and all showed keenest interest to learn whether Mr.
+Baskerville of Hawk House had accepted his invitation.
+
+Rupert handed the letter to his mother, and she was about to put it
+aside until her husband's return; but her children persuaded her to
+open it.
+
+"Such a terrible exciting thing, mother," said stout May.  "Us never
+won't sleep a wink till us knows."
+
+"I hope to the Lord he isn't coming," declared Ned.  "'Twill spoil
+all--a regular death's head he'll be, and us shan't dare to have an
+extra drop of beer or a bit of fun after with the girls."
+
+Beer and a bit of fun with the girls' represented the limit of Edward
+Baskerville's ambitions; and he gratified them with determination when
+opportunity offered.  His father was blind to his faults and set him on
+a pedestal above the rest of the family; but his mother felt concern
+that her eldest son should be so slight a man.  She lived in hope that
+he might waken to his responsibilities and justify existence.  Ned was
+unusually well-educated, and would do great things some day in his
+father's opinion; but the years passed, he was now twenty-five, and the
+only great thing that he had done was twice to become engaged to marry
+and twice to change his mind.  None denied him a rare gift of good
+looks; and his fine figure, his curly hair, his twinkling eyes and his
+mouth, when it smiled, proved attractive to many maidens.
+
+Mrs. Baskerville left a spoon in the large beef-steak pudding and read
+her brother-in-law's letter, while a cloud of steam ascended to the
+kitchen ceiling.
+
+
+"DEAR BROTHER VIVIAN,
+
+"You ask me to come and eat my dinner with you on the twenty-eighth day
+of June next, because on that day you will be up home seventy years
+old.  If you think 'tis a fine thing to find yourself past three score
+and ten--well, perhaps it is.  You can't go on much longer, anyway, and
+journey's end is no hardship.  At a first thought I should have
+reckoned such a birthday wasn't much to rejoice over; but you're right
+and I'm wrong.  A man may pride himself on getting so well through with
+the bulk of his life and reaching nigh the finish with so few thorns in
+his feet and aches in his heart as what you have.  I'll come.
+
+  "Yours faithfully,
+      "HUMPHREY BASKERVILLE."
+
+
+A mournful sound like the wind in the trees went up from Uncle
+Humphrey's nephews and nieces.
+
+"Be damned to him!" said Ned.
+
+"Perhaps he won't come after all, when he hears Uncle Nat is coming,"
+suggested May.  She was always hopeful.
+
+Mrs. Baskerville turned and put the letter on the mantel-shelf behind
+an eight-day clock.  Then she sat down and began to help the pudding.
+
+"We must make him as welcome as we can, for father's sake," she said.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+The hamlet of Shaugh Prior, a gift to the monks of Plympton in time
+past, stands beneath Shaugh Moor at the edge of a mighty declivity.
+The Church of St. Edward lifts its battlemented tower and crocketed
+pinnacles above a world of waste and fallow.  It is perched upon a
+ridge and stands, supported by trees and a few cottages, in a position
+of great prominence.  The scant beauty that this holy place possessed
+has vanished under restoration; but there yet remain good bells, while
+a notable font-cover, cast forth by vanished vandals, is now returned
+to its use.
+
+Round about the church dark sycamores shine in spring, and at autumn
+drop their patched and mottled foliage upon the dust of the dead.
+Broad-bosomed fields ascend to the south; easterly a high road climbs
+to the Moor, and immediately north of Shaugh the slopes of High Down
+lead by North Wood to Cadworthy Farm and Cadworthy Bridge beyond it.
+
+From High Down the village and its outlying habitations may be
+perceived at a glance.  The cots and homesteads converge and cluster
+in, with the church as the central point and heart of the organisation.
+Around it dwellers from afar are come to sleep through their eternal
+night, and a double row of slates, like an amulet, girdles the ancient
+fane.  Here and there flash white marble in the string of grey above
+the graves of the people; and beside the churchyard wall stand heaped a
+pack of Time's playing cards--old, thin, and broken slates from graves
+forgotten--slates and shattered slabs that have fallen away from the
+unremembered dust they chronicled, and now follow into oblivion the
+bones they marked.
+
+A school, a rectory, 'The White Thorn' inn, and a dozen dwellings
+constitute Shaugh Prior, though the parish extends far beyond these
+boundaries; and on this spring day, one thrush warbling from a lilac
+bush at a cottage door, made music loud enough to fill the hamlet.
+
+Undershaugh Farm stood near on the great hill that fell westerly to
+Shaugh Bridge, at watersmeet in the valley; and upon the land hard by
+it, two men tramped backward and forward, crossing and re-crossing in
+the bare centre of a field.  They were working over sown mangold and
+enriching the seed under their feet by scattering upon it a fertile
+powder.  The manure puffed from their hands in little golden clouds
+under the sunlight.  The secret of this mixture belonged to one man,
+and none grew such mangolds as he could grow.
+
+Undershaugh was the property of Nathan Baskerville, innkeeper, and he
+had let it for twenty years to a widow; but Mr. Baskerville took an
+active personal interest in the welfare of his property, and Mrs.
+Priscilla Lintern, his tenant, was very well pleased to follow his
+advice on all large questions of husbandry and rotation.  As did the
+rest of the world, she knew his worth and wisdom.
+
+Nathan Baskerville had original ideas, and these were a source of
+ceaseless and amicable argument between him and his elder brother,
+Vivian Baskerville, of Cadworthy.  But Mr. Nathan's centre of activity
+and nidus, from which his enterprises and undertakings took shape and
+separate being, was 'The White Thorn' public-house.  Here, at the
+centre of the little web of Shaugh Prior, he pursued his busy and
+prosperous life.
+
+Nothing came amiss to him; nothing seemed to fail in his hands.  He had
+a finger in fifty pies, and men followed his lead as a matter of
+course, for Nathan Baskerville was never known to make a bad bargain or
+faulty investment.  Nor did he keep his good luck to himself.  All men
+could win his ear; the humblest found him kind.  He would invest a
+pound for a day labourer as willingly as ten for a farmer.  After
+five-and-twenty years in Shaugh Prior he had won the absolute trust of
+his neighbours.  All eyes brightened at his name.  He was wont to say
+that only one living man neither believed in him nor trusted him.
+
+"And that man, as luck will have it, is my own brother Humphrey," the
+innkeeper would confess over his bar to regular visitors thereat.
+"'Tis no great odds, however, and I don't feel it so much as you might
+think, because Humphrey Baskerville is built on a very uncomfortable
+pattern.  If 'twas only me he mistrusted, I might feel hurt about it;
+but 'tis the world, and therefore I've got no right to mind.  There's
+none--none he would rely upon in a fix--a terrible plight for a man
+that.  But I live in hopes that I'll win him round yet."
+
+The folk condoled with him, and felt a reasonable indignation that this
+most large-hearted, kindly, and transparent of spirits should rest
+under his own brother's suspicion.  They explained it as the work of
+jealousy.  All Baskervilles had brains, and most were noted for good
+looks; but both gifts had reached their highest development and
+culmination in Nathan.  He was the handsomest and the cleverest of the
+clan; and doubtless Humphrey, a sinister and secret character, against
+whom much was whispered and more suspected, envied his brother's gifts
+and far-reaching popularity.  Nathan was sixty, the youngest and
+physically the weakest of the three brothers.  He had a delicate throat
+which often caused him anxiety.
+
+The men scattering manure upon the mangolds made an end of their work
+and separated.  One took some sacks and the pails used for the
+fertiliser.  Then he mounted a bare-backed horse that stood in a corner
+of the field, and rode away slowly to Undershaugh.  His companion
+crossed the stream beneath the village, mounted a hill beyond it, and
+presently entered 'The White Thorn.'  He was a well-turned, fair,
+good-looking youth in corduroys and black leathern leggings.  He wore
+no collar, but his blue cotton shirt was clean and made a pleasant
+contrast of colour with the brown throat that rose from it.  Young
+Lintern was the widow Lintern's only son and her right hand at
+Undershaugh.
+
+The men in the bar gave him good day, and Mr. Baskerville, who was
+serving, drew for him half a pint of beer.
+
+"Well, Heathman," he said.  "So that's done.  And, mark me, 'twas worth
+the doing.  If you don't fetch home first prize as usual for they
+mangolds, say I've forgot the recipe."
+
+"'Tis queer stuff," answered the youngster, "and what with this wind
+blowing, my eyes and nose and throat's all full of it."
+
+"'Twill do you no harm but rise a pleasant thirst."
+
+Mr. Baskerville had humour stamped at the wrinkled corners of his
+bright eyes.  His face was genial and rubicund.  He wore a heavy grey
+beard, but his hair, though streaked with grey, was still dark in
+colour.  A plastic mouth that widened into laughter a thousand times a
+day, belonged to him.  He was rather above average height, sturdy and
+energetic.  He declared that he had never known what it was to be weary
+in mind or body.  Behind his bar he wore no coat, but ministered in
+turned-up shirt sleeves that revealed fine hairy arms.
+
+Young Ned Baskerville sat in the bar, and now he spoke to Heathman
+Lintern.
+
+"Have one with me, Heathman," he said.  "I was going down to your
+mother with a message, but now you can take it and save me the trouble."
+
+His uncle shook his head.
+
+"Ah, boy--always the same with you.  Anybody as will save you trouble
+be your friend.  'Tis a very poor look-out, Ned; for let a certain
+party only get wind of it that you're such a chap for running from
+work, and he'll mighty soon come along and save you all trouble for
+evermore."
+
+"And who might he be, Uncle Nat?"
+
+"Old Nick, my fine fellow!  You may laugh, but Tommy Gollop here will
+bear me out, and Joe Voysey too, won't you, Joe?  They be both born and
+bred in the shadow of the church, and as well up in morals as
+grave-digging and cabbage-growing.  And they'll tell you that the
+devil's always ready to work for an idle man."
+
+"True," said Mr. Gollop.  "True as truth itself.  But the dowl won't
+work for nought, any more than the best of us.  Long hours, I grant
+you--never tired him, and never takes a rest--but he'll have his wages;
+and Ned here knows what they be, no doubt."
+
+Ned laughed.
+
+"I'm all right," he said.  "I shall work hard enough come presently,
+when it gets to be worth while."
+
+Mr. Gollop spoke again.  He was a stout man with a little grey beard, a
+flat forehead, barely indicated under his low-growing, coarse hair, and
+large brown, solemn eyes.  He and his sister were leading figures at
+Shaugh Prior, and took themselves and their manifold labours in a
+serious spirit.  Some self-complacency marked their outlook; and their
+perspective was faulty.  They held Shaugh Prior as the centre of
+civilisation, and considered that their united labours had served to
+place and helped to maintain it in that position.  Thomas Gollop was
+parish clerk and sexton; his sister united many avocations.  She acted
+as pew-opener at the church; she was a sick-nurse and midwife; she took
+temporary appointments as plain cook; she posed as intelligencer of
+Shaugh Prior; and what she did not know of every man, woman, and child
+in the village, together with their ambitions, financial position,
+private relations, religious opinions, and physical constitutions, was
+not worth knowing.
+
+"At times of large change like this, when we are threatened with all
+manner of doubts and dangers, 'tis well for every man among us to hold
+stoutly to religion and defy any one who would shake us," said Mr.
+Gollop.  "For my part I shall strike the first blow, and let it be seen
+that I'm a man very jealous for the Lord, and the village and the old
+paths."
+
+"What's going to happen?" asked Ned.  "You talk as if Doomsday was
+coming."
+
+"Not at all," answered Mr. Gollop.  "When Doomsday comes, if I'm still
+here, I shall know how to handle it; but 'tis the new vicar.  A man is
+a man; and with a strange man 'tis only too terrible certain there will
+creep in strange opinions and a nasty hunger for novelty."
+
+"And what's worse," said Mr. Voysey, "a young man.  An old man I could
+have faced from my sixty-five years without fear; but how can you
+expect a young youth--full of the fiery silliness of the twenties--to
+understand that as I've been gardener at the vicarage for forty year,
+so in right and decency and order I ought to go on being gardener
+there?"
+
+"Have no fear, Joe," said Mr. Baskerville.  "If there's one thing among
+us that Mr. Masterman won't change, 'tis you, I'm sure; for who knows
+the outs and ins of the garden up the hill like you do?"
+
+"'Tis true," admitted Tommy Gollop.  "That land is like a human, you
+might say--stiff and stubborn and got to be coaxed to do its best; and
+I'm sure he'll very soon see that only Voysey can fetch his beans and
+peas out of the soil, and that it's took him a lifetime to learn the
+trick of the place.  And I feel the same to the church.  If he's got
+any new-fangled fashion of worship, Shaugh will rise against him like
+one man.  After fifty-two years of the Reverend Valletort, we can't be
+blown from our fixed ways at a young man's breath; and I'm sure I do
+hope that he won't want so much as a cobweb swept down, or else
+there'll be difficulties spring up around him like weeds after rain."
+
+"What a pack of mouldy old fossils you are in this place!" said
+Heathman Lintern.  "I'm sure, for my part, I hope the man will fetch
+along a few new ideas to waken us up.  If 'twasn't for Mr. Baskerville
+here, Shaugh would be forgot in the world altogether.  You should hear
+Jack Head on the subject."
+
+But Tommy Gollop little liked such criticism.
+
+"You're young and terribly ignorant, and Jack Head's a red radical as
+ought to be locked up," he answered.  "But you'll do well to keep your
+ignorance from leaking out and making you look a ninny-hammer afore
+sensible men.  Shaugh Prior's a bit ahead of the times rather than
+behind 'em, and my fear always is, and always will be, that we shall
+take the bit in our teeth some day and bolt with it.  'Tis no good
+being too far ahead of the race; and that's why I'm afeared that this
+young Masterman, when he finds how forward we are, will try to go one
+better and stir up strife."
+
+"Don't think it, Tommy," said Nathan Baskerville.  "I've had a good
+tell with him and find him a very civil-spoken and well-meaning man.
+No fool, neither.  You mustn't expect him to leave everything just as
+Mr. Valletort left it.  You must allow for the difference between
+eighty-two and twenty-eight, which is Mr. Masterman's age; but, believe
+me, he's calm and sensible and very anxious to please.  He's pleased me
+by praising my beer, like one who knew; and he's pleased my brother
+Vivian by praising his riding-cob, like one who knew; and he'll please
+Joe Voysey presently by praising the vicarage garden; and he'll please
+you, Thomas, by praising your churchyard."
+
+"If he's going to be all things to all men, he'll please none," said
+Tommy.  "We've got no need of one of them easy ministers.  Him and me
+must keep the whip-hand of Shaugh, same as me and the Reverend
+Valletort used to do.  However, the man will hear my views, and my
+sister's also; because a clear understanding from the start be going to
+save a world of worry after."
+
+"Not married," said Mr. Voysey.  "But he've a sister.  I hope she ban't
+one of they gardening sort, so-called, that's always messing round
+making work and finding things blowed down here or eaten with varmints
+there.  If she's a flower-liking female, 'twill be my place to tell her
+straight out from the shoulder that flowers won't grow in the vicarage
+garden, and that she must be content with the 'dendrums in summer time
+and the foxgloves and such-like homely old stuff."
+
+"He was a football player to college and very skilled at it, so Barker
+told me," said Ned Baskerville.
+
+"Then mark me, he'll be for making a club, and teaching the young chaps
+to play of a Saturday and keeping 'em out of your bar, Mr.
+Baskerville," declared the parish clerk; "Yes, look at it as you will,
+there's changes in the air, and I hope we'll all stand shoulder to
+shoulder against 'em, and down the man afore he gets his foot in the
+stirrup."
+
+"You two--Joe Voysey and you--be enough to frighten the poor soul out
+of his seven senses afore he's been in the place a week," declared Ned
+Baskerville.  "And I hope for one that Uncle Nat won't go against him;
+and I know father won't, for he's said this many a day that old
+Valletort was past his work and ought to be pensioned off."
+
+"Your father's not a man for unseemly changes, all the same," declared
+Tommy; "and if this new young minister was to go in the pulpit in white
+instead of black, for instance, as the Popish habit is, Vivian
+Baskerville would be the first to rise up and tell him to dress himself
+decently and in order."
+
+But Ned denied this.
+
+"Don't you think you know my father, Tommy, because you don't.  If this
+chap gets up a football club, he'll have father on his side from the
+first; and he can preach in black or white or pea-green, so long as he
+talks sense through his mouth, and not nonsense through his nose, like
+the old one did."
+
+"Don't you speak for your father," said Joseph Voysey.  He was a very
+tall and a very thin man, with pale, watery eyes and a scanty beard.
+Nature had done so much for his long and rather absurd hatchet nose,
+that there was no material left for his chin.
+
+"If I shouldn't talk for my father, who should?" retorted Ned.  Then
+Mr. Voysey descended to personalities and accused the other of
+irreverence and laziness.  The argument grew sharp and Mr. Baskerville
+was forced to still it.
+
+"Come you along and don't talk twaddle, Ned," he said to his nephew.
+"I'm going down to Undershaugh myself this minute, to see Mrs. Lintern,
+and you and Heathman will come with me."
+
+He called to a pot-boy, turned down his sleeves, took his coat from a
+hook behind the door, and was ready to start.
+
+"When Mr. Masterman does come among us, 'twill be everybody's joy and
+pride to make him welcome in a kindly spirit," he said.  "Changes must
+happen, but if he's a gentleman and a sportsman and a Christian--all of
+which he certainly looks to be--then 'twill be the fault of Shaugh
+Prior, and not the man's, if all don't go friendly and suent.  Give and
+take's the motto."
+
+"Yes," admitted Mr. Gollop.  "Give nought and take all: that's the way
+of the young nowadays; and that'll be his way so like as not; and I'll
+deny him to his face from the first minute, if he seeks to ride
+roughshod over me, and the church, and the people."
+
+"Hear!  Hear!" cried Mr. Voysey.
+
+"We'll hope he'll have enough sense to spare a little for you silly old
+blids," said Heathman Lintern.  Then he followed the Baskervilles.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+Nathan Baskerville, like his brother Humphrey, was a widower.  Very
+early in life he had married a young woman of good means and social
+position superior to his own.  His handsome face and manifold charms of
+disposition won Minnie Stanlake, and she brought to him a small fortune
+in her own right, together with the detestation of her whole family.
+Husband and wife had lived happily, save for the woman's fierce and
+undying jealousy which extended beyond her early grave.
+
+She died childless at eight-and-twenty, and left five thousand pounds
+to her husband on the understanding that he did not marry again.  He
+obeyed this condition, though it was vain in law, and presently
+returned to his own people.  His married life was spent at Taunton, as
+a general dealer, but upon his wife's death he abandoned this business
+and set up another like it at Bath.
+
+At five-and-thirty years of age he came back to Devonshire and his
+native village.  Great natural energy kept him busy.  He dearly liked
+to conduct all manner of pettifogging business, and his good nature was
+such that the folk did not hesitate to consult him upon their affairs.
+His legal attainments were considered profound, while his shrewd
+handling of figures, and his personal prosperity, combined to place him
+on a pinnacle among the folk as a great financier and most capable man
+of business.  He did not lend money at interest, but was known more
+than once to have helped a lame dog over a stile.  Many kind things he
+did, and no man spoke a bad word of him.
+
+People brought him their savings and begged him to invest them
+according to his judgment.  They usually asked for no details, but
+received their interest regularly, and trusted Nathan Baskerville like
+the Bank of England.  He was in truth a large-hearted and kindly
+spirit, who found his pleasure in the affection and also in the
+applause of the people.  He liked to figure among them as the first.
+He loved work for itself and enjoyed the universal praise of his
+attainments.
+
+Mr. Gollop might delude himself into believing that he was the leading
+citizen of Shaugh; but the master of 'The White Thorn' knew better.
+Without undue vanity he was not able to hide the fact that he stood
+above others in the esteem of the countryside.  He was not so rich as
+people thought, and he had not laid foundations of such a fortune as
+they supposed during the years at Bath; but he fostered the impression
+and the fame it gave him.  It suited better his native idiosyncrasy to
+tower among smaller men, than to be small amidst his betters.  He liked
+the round-eyed reverence of ploughboys and the curtsey of the school
+children.
+
+The late vicar, a Tory of the early Victorian age, had contrived to let
+Mr. Baskerville perceive the gulf that existed between them; and that
+the more definitely because Nathan was a Nonconformist.  The publican
+professed strong Conservative principles, however, and the attitude of
+the last incumbent of Shaugh had caused him some secret annoyance; but
+he too hoped that with the advent of a younger man and modern
+principles this slight disability might vanish.  For the rest he rode
+to hounds, and his attitude in the hunting field was admitted to be
+exceedingly correct and tactful.
+
+He had no known confidant and he seldom spoke about himself.  That he
+had never married astonished many people exceedingly; but it was
+significant of the genuine affection and esteem entertained for him
+that none, even when they came to learn of his dead wife's bequest and
+its condition, ever imputed sordid motives to his celibacy.  Five
+thousand pounds was guessed to be but a small part of Mr. Baskerville's
+fortune, and, when the matter chanced upon local tongues, men and women
+alike were quite content to believe that not affection for money, but
+love for his dead partner, had proved strong enough to maintain Nathan
+in widowhood.  He liked the company of women, and was never so pleased
+as when doing them a service.  For their part they admired him also and
+wished him well.
+
+Mr. Baskerville not only owned 'The White Thorn' and its adjacencies,
+but had other house property at Shaugh and in the neighbouring parish
+of Bickleigh.  His principal possession was the large farm of
+Undershaugh; and thither now he proceeded with his nephew, Ned
+Baskerville, on one side of him and young Heathman Lintern on the other.
+
+According to his wont Nathan chattered volubly and suited the
+conversation to his listeners.
+
+"You young chaps must both join the football club, if there is one.
+I'm glad to think new parson's that sort, for 'tis just the kind of
+thing we're wanting here.  You fellows, and a lot like you, spend too
+much time and money at my bar to please me.  You may laugh, Ned, but
+'tis so.  And another thing I'd have you to know: so like as not we
+shall have a rifle corps also.  I've often turned my mind on it.  We
+must let this man see we're not all willingly behind the times, but
+only waiting for a bit of encouragement to go ahead with the best."
+
+Ned pictured his own fine figure in a uniform, and applauded the rifle
+corps; and Heathman did the like.
+
+"Ned here would fancy himself a lot in that black and silver toggery
+the yeomanry wear, wouldn't you, Ned?"
+
+"'Tis a very good idea, and would help to make you and a few other
+round-backed chaps as straight in the shoulders as me," declared Ned
+complacently.
+
+"Well, you may be straight," answered the other with a laugh.
+"Certainly you've never been known yet to bend your shoulders to work.
+A day's trout-fishing be the hardest job that ever you've taken
+on--unless courting the maidens be a hard job."
+
+Ned laughed and so did his uncle.
+
+"You're right there, Heathman," declared Mr. Baskerville.  "A lazy
+scamp you are, Ned, though your father won't see it; but nobody knows
+it better than the girls.  They like you very well for a fine day and a
+picnic by the river; but I can tell you this: they're getting to see
+through you only too well.  They don't want fair-weather husbands; but
+stout, hard fellows, like Heathman here, as have got brains and use
+'em, and arms and legs and use 'em."
+
+"No more use--you, than a pink and white china joney stuck on a
+mantelshelf," said Heathman.  Whereupon Ned dashed at him and, half in
+jest, half in earnest, they wrestled by the roadside.  Mr. Baskerville
+looked on with great enjoyment, and helped presently to dust Heathman
+after he had been cross-buttocked.
+
+"That'll show 'e if I'm a pink and white puppet for a mantelpiece,"
+declared Ned.
+
+The other laughed and licked a scratch on his hand.
+
+"Well done you!" he said.  "Never thought you was so spry.  But let's
+have a whole day's ploughing over a bit of the five-acre field to
+Undershaugh, and see what sort of a man you are in the evening."
+
+"Not me," answered the other.  "Got no use for the plough-tail myself.
+Rupert will take you on at that."
+
+"To see you wrestle puts me in mind of your father," said Nathan.
+"This generation can't call home his greatness, and beside him you're a
+shrimp to a lobster, Ned; but 'twas a grand sight to see him handle a
+man in his prime.  I mind actually getting him up to London once,
+because I named his name there among some sporting fellows and 'twas
+slighted.  They thought, being my brother, that I held him too high,
+though he was champion of Devon at the time.  But my way is never to
+say nought with my tongue that I won't back with my pocket, and I made
+a match for thirty pounds a side for your father.  A Middlesex man
+called Thorpe, from down Bermondsey way, was chosen, and your father
+came up on a Friday and put that chap on his back twice in five
+minutes, and then went home again fifteen pound to the good.  A very
+clever man too, was Thorpe, but he never wanted to have no more to do
+with your father.  Vivian weighed over fourteen stone in them days, and
+not a pound of fat in the lot, I believe.  He could have throwed down a
+tor, I reckon, if he could have got a hold on it.  But you fellows be
+after your mother's build.  The best of you--him that's at sea--won't
+never draw the beam to twelve stone."
+
+A tramp stopped Mr. Baskerville, touched his hat and spoke.
+
+"You gave me a bit of work harvesting two year ago, master, and you
+didn't pull much of a long face when I told you I wasn't fond of work
+as a rule.  I'm more broke than usual just for the minute, and rather
+short o' boot-leather.  Can 'e give me a job?"
+
+Nathan was famous at making work for everybody, and loafers rarely
+appealed to him in vain.  How such an exceedingly busy man could find
+it in his heart to sympathise with drones, none knew.  It was another
+of the anomalies of Mr. Baskerville's character.  But he often proved
+good for a square meal, a day's labour and a night's rest, as many
+houseless folk well knew.
+
+"You're the joker who calls himself the 'Duke of Drake's Island,'
+aren't you?"
+
+"The Duke of Drake's Island" grinned and nodded.  He was a worthless
+soul, very well known to the Devon constabulary.
+
+"Get up to the village and call at 'The White Thorn' in an hour from
+now, and ask for me."
+
+"Thank you kindly, Mr. Baskerville."
+
+"We'll see about that later.  I can find a job for you to-night; but it
+ain't picking primroses."
+
+Priscilla Lintern met her landlord at the gate of Undershaugh.  They
+were on terms of intimacy, and nodded to each other in an easy and
+friendly manner.  She had been feeding poultry from a basin, and now
+set it down, wiped her fingers on her apron, and shook hands with Ned
+Baskerville.
+
+"How be you, then?  'Tis a longful time since you called on us, Master
+Ned."
+
+"I'm clever, thank you; and I see you are, Mrs. Lintern.  And I hope
+Cora and Phyllis be all right too.  Heathman here be growing as strong
+as a lion--ban't you, Heathman?"
+
+Mrs. Lintern was a brown, good-looking woman of rather more than fifty.
+For twenty years she had farmed Undershaugh, and her power of reserve
+surprised a garrulous village.  It was taken by the sensible for wisdom
+and by the foolish for pride.  She worked hard, paid her rent at the
+hour it was due, as Nathan often mentioned to her credit, and kept her
+own counsel.  Very little was known about her, save that she had come
+to Shaugh as a widow with three young children, that she was
+kind-hearted and might have married Mr. Gollop a year after her
+arrival, but had declined the honour.
+
+Her daughters were at dinner when the men entered, and both rose and
+saluted Ned with some self-consciousness.  Phyllis, the younger, was
+like her mother: brown, neat, silent and reserved; the elder was cast
+in a larger mould and might have been called frankly beautiful.
+
+Cora was dark, with black eyes and a fair skin whose purity she took
+pains to preserve.  She was tall, straight and full in the bosom.  Her
+mouth alone betrayed her, for the lips set close and they were rather
+thin; but people forgot them when she laughed and showed her pretty
+teeth.  Her laugh again belied her lips, for it was gentle and
+pleasant.  She had few delusions for a maiden, and she worked hard.  To
+Cora belonged a gift of common-sense.  The girl lacked sentiment, but
+she was shrewd and capable.  She kept her mother's books and displayed
+a talent for figures.  It was said that she had the brains of the
+family.  Only Mr. Baskerville himself doubted it, and maintained that
+Cora's mother was the abler woman.  Phyllis was lost at all times in
+admiration of her more brilliant sister, but Heathman did not like Cora
+and often quarrelled with her.
+
+Ned gave his message and asked for a drink of cider.  Thereupon Phyllis
+rose from her dinner and went to fetch it.  But young Baskerville's
+eyes were on Cora while he drank.  He had the manner of a man very well
+accustomed to female society, and long experience had taught him that
+nine girls out of ten found him exceedingly attractive.  His easy
+insolence won them against their will.  Such girls as demanded worship
+and respect found Ned not so agreeable; but those who preferred the
+male creature to dominate were fascinated by his sublimity and
+affectation of knowledge and worldly wisdom.  He pretended to know
+everything--a convincing attitude only among those who know nothing.
+
+The talk was of a revel presently to take place at Tavistock.  "And
+what's your gown going to be, Phyllis?" asked Ned.
+
+The gown of Phyllis did not interest him in the least, but this
+question was put as a preliminary to another, and when the younger
+sister told him that she meant to wear plum-colour, he turned to Cora.
+
+"Cora's got a lovely frock--blue muslin wi' little pink roses, and a
+straw hat wi' big pink roses," said Phyllis.
+
+Ned nodded.
+
+"I'd go a long way to see her in such a beautiful dress," he said;
+"and, mind, I'm to have a dance or two with you both.  There's to be
+dancing in the evening--not rough and tumble on the grass, but boards
+are to be laid down and everything done proper."
+
+They chattered about the promised festivity, while Nathan and Mrs.
+Lintern, having discussed certain farm matters, spoke of another and a
+nearer celebration.
+
+"You see, my brother Vivian and I are of the good old-fashioned sort,
+and we're bent on the whole family meeting at a square feed, with good
+wishes all round, on his seventieth birthday.  To think of him turned
+seventy!  I can't believe it.  Yet Time won't stand still--not even
+with the busiest.  A family affair 'tis to be, and none asked outside
+ourselves."
+
+"Does Mr. Humphrey go?  He's not much of a hand at a revel."
+
+"He is not; and I thought that he would have refused the invitation.
+But he's accepted.  We shall try our hardest to cheer him up and get a
+drop of generous liquor into him.  I only hope he won't be a damper and
+spoil the fun."
+
+"A pity he's going."
+
+"We shall know that better afterwards.  'Twill be a pity if he mars
+all; but 'twill be a good thing if we overmaster him amongst us, and
+get him to take a hopefuller view of life and a kinder view of his
+fellow-creatures."
+
+Ned chimed in.
+
+"You'll never do that, Uncle Nat.  He's too old to change now.  And
+Cousin Mark be going just the same way.  He's getting such a silent,
+hang-dog chap, and no wonder, having to live with such a father.  I'd
+run away if I was him."
+
+Nathan laughed.
+
+"I believe you'd almost rather work than keep along with your Uncle
+Humphrey," he said.
+
+"'Tis pretty well known I can work when I choose," declared Ned.
+
+"Yes," said Heathman, with his mouth full; "and 'tis also pretty well
+known you never do choose."
+
+The elder Baskerville clapped his hands.
+
+"One to you, Heathman!" he said.  "Ned can't deny the truth of that."
+
+But Ned showed no concern.
+
+"I shall make up for lost time very easily when I do start," he said.
+"I've got ideas, I believe, and they go beyond ploughing.  I'm like
+Cora here--all brains.  You may laugh, Uncle Nat, but you're not the
+only Baskerville with a head on your shoulders.  I'll astonish you yet."
+
+"You will--you will--the day you begin to work, Ned; and the sooner the
+better.  I shall be very glad when it happens."
+
+The women laughed, and Cora much admired Ned's lofty attitude.  She too
+had ambitions, and felt little sympathy with those who were content to
+labour on the soil.  She strove often to fire her brother and enlarge
+his ambitions; but he had the farmer's instinct, enjoyed physical work,
+and laughed at her airs and graces.
+
+"Give me Rupert," said Heathman now.  "He's like me--not much good at
+talking and ain't got no use for the girls, but a towser to work."
+
+"The man who ain't got no use for the girls is not a man," declared Ned
+very positively.  "They're the salt of the earth--ban't they, Mrs.
+Lintern?"
+
+She smiled and looked at him curiously, then at his uncle; but she did
+not answer.
+
+"Anyway," continued Ned, "you're out when you say Rupert's like you;
+for hard worker that he is, he's found time for a bit of love-making."
+
+Cora and Phyllis manifested instant excitement and interest at this
+news.
+
+"Who is she?  You must tell us," said the elder.
+
+"Why, I will; but say nought, for nothing be known about it outside the
+families, and Rupert haven't said a word himself to me.  I reckon he
+don't guess that I know.  But such things can't be hid from my
+eyes--too sharp for that, I believe.  'Tis Milly Luscombe, if you must
+know.  A very nice little thing too in her way.  Not my sort--a bit too
+independent.  I like a girl to feel a man's the oak to her ivy, but----"
+
+Uproarious laughter from his uncle cut Ned short.
+
+"Mighty fine oak for a girl's ivy--you!" he said.
+
+"You wait," repeated the younger.  "Anyway, Rupert be sweet on Milly,
+and father knows all about it, and won't hear of it.  So there's
+thunder in the air for the moment."
+
+They discussed this interesting private news, but promised Ned not to
+retail it in any ear.  Then he left them and, with Nathan, returned to
+the village.
+
+Ned, undeterred by Mr. Baskerville's raillery, began loudly to praise
+Cora as soon as they had passed beyond earshot of the farmhouse-door.
+
+"By Jove, she's a bowerly maiden and no mistake!  Not her like this
+side of Plymouth, I do believe.  Haven't seen her for a month of
+Sundays, and she's come on amazing."
+
+"She's a very handsome girl without a doubt," admitted Nathan.  "And a
+very clever girl too; but a word in your ear, my young shaver: you
+mustn't look that way once and for all."
+
+"Why not, if I choose?  I'm a free man."
+
+"You may be--now--more shame to you.  But Cora--well, your cousin Mark
+be first in the field there.  A word to the wise is enough.  You'll be
+doing a very improper thing if you look in that quarter, and I must
+firmly beg you won't, for everybody's sake."
+
+"Mark!"
+
+"Mark.  And a very good chap he is--worth fifty of you."
+
+"Mark!" repeated Ned, as though the notion was unthinkable.  "I should
+have guessed that he would rather have run out of the country than lift
+his eyes to a girl!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+The Reverend Dennis Masterman was a bachelor.  He came to Shaugh full
+of physical energy and certain hazy resolutions to accomplish notable
+work among a neglected people.  His scholastic career was nugatory, and
+his intellect had offered no bar to his profession.  He was physically
+brave, morally infirm.  Therefore his sister, Alice Masterman, came to
+support him and share his lot and complement his character.  She might
+indeed fly from cows, but she would not fly from parochial opposition.
+She was strong where he was weak.  They were young, sanguine, and of
+gentle birth.  They enjoyed private means, but were filled with
+wholesome ardour to justify existence and leave the world better than
+they found it.  Dennis Masterman possessed interest, and regarded this,
+his first cure, as a stepping-stone to better things.
+
+Shaugh Prior was too small for his natural energies and powers of
+endurance--so he told his sister; but she said that the experience
+would be helpful.  She also suspected that reform might not be a matter
+of energy alone.
+
+One evening, a week after their arrival, they were planning the
+campaign and estimating the value of lay helpers, when two important
+visitors were announced.  A maiden appeared and informed the clergyman
+that Thomas Gollop and Eliza Gollop desired to see him.
+
+"Show them into the common room," said he; then he twisted a little
+bronze cross that he wore at his watchchain and regarded Miss Masterman.
+
+"The parish clerk and his sister--I wonder if you'd mind, Alice?" he
+asked.
+
+For answer she put down her work.
+
+"Certainly.  Since you saw Joe Voysey alone and, not only engaged him,
+but promised he might have a boy for the weeding, I feel--well, you are
+a great deal too easy, Dennis.  Gollop is a very masterful person,
+clearly, and his sister, so I am told, is just the same.  You certainly
+must not see women alone.  They'll get everything they want out of you."
+
+"Of course, one wishes to strike a genial note," he explained.  "First
+impressions count for such a lot with common people."
+
+"Be genial by all means; I say nothing against that."
+
+"Let's tackle them, then.  Gollop's a tremendous Conservative, but we
+must get Liberal ideas into him, if we can--in reason."
+
+Dennis Masterman was tall, square-shouldered and clean-shaven.  He
+regarded himself as somewhat advanced, but had no intention of sowing
+his opinions upon the parish before the soil was prepared.  He
+considered his character to be large-minded, tolerant, and sane; and
+for a man of eight-and-twenty he enjoyed fair measure of these virtues.
+
+His sister was plain, angular, and four years older than Dennis.  She
+wore double eyeglasses and had a gruff voice and a perceptible beard.
+
+The Gollops rose as the vicar and his sister appeared.  Miss Gollop was
+shorter and stouter than her brother, but resembled him.
+
+"Good evening, your reverence; good evening, miss," said the parish
+clerk.  "This is my sister, Miss Eliza.  For faith, hope, and charity
+she standeth.  In fact, a leading light among us, though I say it as
+should not."
+
+Mr. Masterman shook hands with the woman; his sister bowed only.
+
+"And what does Miss Gollop do?" asked Dennis.
+
+"'Twould be easier to say what she don't do," answered Thomas.  "She's
+butt-woman to begin with, or as you would call it, 'pew-opener.'  Then
+she's sick-nurse to the parish, and she's midwife, and, when free,
+she'll do chores or cook for them as want her.  And she's got a
+knowledge and understanding of the people round these parts as won't be
+beaten.  She was Mr. Valletort's right hand, wasn't you, Eliza?"
+
+"So he said," answered Miss Gollop.  She was not self-conscious, but
+bore herself as Fame's familiar and one accustomed to admiration.  She
+had estimated the force of the clergyman's character from his first
+sermon, and judged that her brother would be a match for him.  Now she
+covertly regarded Miss Masterman, and perceived that here must lie any
+issue of battle that might arise.
+
+"Do you abide along with your brother, miss, or be you just settling
+him into the vicarage?" she asked.
+
+"I live with him."
+
+Miss Gollop inclined her head.
+
+"And I'm sure I hope, if I can serve you any way at any time, as you'll
+let me know."
+
+"Thank you.  Everybody can serve us: we want help from one and all,"
+said Mr. Masterman.
+
+"Ezacally so!" said Thomas.  "And you must larn each man's value from
+those that know it--not by bitter experience.  Likewise with the women.
+My sister can tell you, to threepence a day, what any female in this
+parish be good for; and as to the men, you'll do very well to come to
+me.  I know 'em all--old and young--and their characters and their
+points--good and bad, crooked and odd.  For we've got some originals
+among us, and I'm not going to deny it, haven't us, Eliza?"
+
+"Every place have," she said.
+
+"Might we sit down?" asked the man.  "We'm of the bungy breed, as you
+see, and not so clever in our breathing as we could wish.  But we'm
+here to go through the whole law and the prophets, so to speak, and we
+can do it better sitting."
+
+"Please sit down," answered Dennis.  Then he looked at his watch.  "I
+can give you an hour," he said.  "But I'm going to ride over to
+Bickleigh at nine o'clock, to see the vicar there."
+
+"And a very nice gentleman you'll find him," declared Thomas.  "Of
+course, Bickleigh be but a little matter beside Shaugh Prior.  We bulk
+a good deal larger in the eyes of the nation, and can hold our heads so
+much the higher in consequence; but the Reverend Coaker is a very good,
+humble-minded man, and knows his place in a way that's a high example
+to the younger clergymen."
+
+Miss Masterman cleared her throat, but her voice was none the less
+gruff.
+
+"Perhaps you will now tell us what you have come for.  We are busy
+people," she said.
+
+Her brother deprecated this brevity and tried to tone it down, but
+Thomas accepted the lady's statement with great urbanity.
+
+"Miss be right," he answered.  "Busy as bees, I warrant--same as me and
+my own sister here.  She don't wear out many chairs, do you, Eliza?"
+
+"Not many," said Miss Gollop.  "I always say, 'Let's run about in this
+world; plenty of time to sit down in the next.'"
+
+"I may tell you," added Thomas kindly, "that your first sermon went
+down very suent.  From where I sits, along by the font, I can get a
+good look across the faces, and the important people, the Baskervilles
+and the Lillicraps and the Luscombes and the Mumfords--one and all
+listened to every word, and nodded now and again.  You'll be glad to
+know that."
+
+"Some thought 'twas a sermon they'd heard afore, however," said Miss
+Gollop; "but no doubt they was wrong."
+
+"Quite wrong," declared Dennis warmly.  "It was a sermon written only
+the night before I preached it.  And talking of the font----"
+
+"Yes, of course, you've marked the famous font-cover over the holy
+basin, I suppose?" interrupted Mr. Gollop.  "'Tis the joy and pride of
+the church-town, I assure you.  Not another like it in the world, they
+say.  Learned men come all across England to see it--as well they may."
+
+The famous font-cover, with its eight little snub-nosed saints and the
+Abbot elevated in the midst, was a special glory of St. Edward's.
+
+"I meant to speak of that," said the clergyman.  "The figure at the top
+has got more than his proper vestments on, Gollop.  In fact, he's
+wrapped up in cobwebs.  That is not worthy of us.  Please see they are
+cleaned off."
+
+"I hadn't noticed them; but since you say so--I'll look to it myself.
+Where the vamp-dish be concerned I allow none to meddle.  It shall be
+done; but I must say again that I haven't noticed any cobwebs--not last
+Sunday.  Have you, Eliza?" said Thomas.
+
+"No, I have not," answered his sister.
+
+"The dirt has clearly been there for months," remarked Miss Masterman.
+
+There was a painful pause, during which Miss Gollop gazed at the
+vicar's sister and then at the vicar.
+
+"'Tis a well-known fact that spiders will spin," she said vaguely, but
+not without intention.  The other woman ignored her and turned to
+Thomas.
+
+"Will you be so good as to proceed?"
+
+"Yes, and gladly, miss," he answered.  "And I'll begin with the
+Gollops, since they've done as much for this parish as anybody, living
+or dead.  My father was parish clerk afore me, and a very remarkable
+man, wasn't he, Eliza?"
+
+"He was."
+
+"A remarkable man with a large faith in the power of prayer, was
+father.  You don't see such faith now, worse luck.  But he believed
+more than even I hold to, or my sister, either.  You might say that he
+wasn't right always; but none ever dared to doubt the high religious
+quality of the man.  But there he was--a pillar of the Church and
+State, as they say.  He used to help his money a bit by the power of
+prayer; and they fetched childer sick of the thrush to him; and he'd
+tak 'em up the church tower and hold 'em over the battlements, north,
+south, east, and west--while he said the Lord's Prayer four times.
+He'd get a shilling by it every time, and was known to do twenty of 'em
+in a good year, though I never heard 'twas a very quick cure.  But
+faith moves mountains, and he may have done more good than appeared to
+human eyes.  And then in his age, he very near let a heavy babby drop
+over into the churchyard--just grabbed hold of un by a miracle and
+saved un.  So that proper terrified the old man, and he never done
+another for fear of some lasting misfortune.  Not but what a few
+devilish-natured people said that if 'twas knowed he let the childer
+fall now and again, he'd brisk up his business a hundred per centum.
+Which shows the evil-mindedness of human nature."
+
+"I'll have no gross superstition of that sort here," said Mr. Masterman
+firmly.
+
+"No more won't I," answered Thomas.  "'Other times, other manners,' as
+the saying is.  Have no fear.  The church is very safe with me and
+Eliza for watch-dogs.  Well, so much for my father.  There was only us
+two, and we never married--too busy for that.  And we've done no little
+for Shaugh Prior, as will be better told you in good time by other
+mouths than ours."
+
+He stopped to take breath, and Miss Masterman spoke.
+
+"My brother will tell you that with regard to parish clerks the times
+are altering too," she said.
+
+"And don't I know it?" he answered.  "Why, good powers, you can't get a
+clerk for love or money nowadays!  They'm regular dying out.  'He'll be
+thankful he've got one of the good old sort,' I said to my sister.
+'For he'd have had to look beyond Dartymoor for such another as me.'
+And so he would."
+
+"That's true," declared Miss Gollop.
+
+"I mean that the congregation takes the place of the clerk in most
+modern services," continued Miss Masterman.  "In point of fact, we
+shall not want exactly what you understand by a 'clerk.'  'Other times,
+other manners,' as you very wisely remarked just now."
+
+Mr. Gollop stared.
+
+"Not want a clerk!" he said.  "Woman alive, you must be daft!"
+
+"I believe not," answered Miss Masterman.  "However, what my brother
+has got to say regarding his intentions can come later.  For the
+present he will hear you."
+
+"If you don't want a clerk, I've done," answered Mr. Gollop blankly.
+"But I'll make bold to think you can't ezacally mean that.  Us'll leave
+it, and I'll tell my tale about the people.  The Lillicraps be a
+harmless folk, and humble and fertile as coneys.  You'll have no
+trouble along with them.  The Baskervilles be valuable and powerful;
+and Mr. Humphrey and his son is Church, and Mr. Vivian and his family
+is Church also, and his darters sing in the choir."
+
+"We shall manage without women in the choir," said Miss Masterman.
+
+"You may think so, but I doubt it," answered Eliza Gollop almost
+fiercely.  "You'll have to manage without anybody in the church also,
+if you be for up-turning the whole order of divine service!"  She was
+excited, and her large bosom heaved.
+
+"Not up-turning--not up-turning," declared the clergyman.  "Call it
+reorganisation.  Frankly, I propose a surpliced choir.  I have the
+bishop's permission; he wishes it.  Now, go on."
+
+"Then the Lord help you," said Thomas.  "We'd better be going, Eliza.
+We've heard almost enough for one evening."
+
+"Be reasonable," urged Miss Masterman with admirable self-command.  "We
+are here to do our duty.  We hope and expect to be helped by all
+sensible people--not hindered.  Let Mr. Gollop tell us what he came to
+tell us."
+
+"Well--as to reason--I ask no more, but where is it?" murmured Thomas.
+"'Twas the Baskervilles," he continued, wiping his forehead.  "The
+other of 'em--Nathan--be unfortunately a chapel member; and if you be
+going to play these here May games in the House of the Lord, I'm very
+much afeared he'll draw a good few after him.  They won't stand
+it--mark me."
+
+"Where do the people at Undershaugh worship?  I did not see Mrs.
+Lintern and her family last Sunday."
+
+"They'm all chapel too."
+
+Mr. Masterman nodded.
+
+"Thank you for these various facts.  Is there anything more?"
+
+"I've only just begun.  But I comed with warnings chiefly.  There be
+six Radicals in this parish, and only six."
+
+"Though the Lord knows how many there will be when they hear about the
+choir," said Eliza Gollop.
+
+"I'm an old-fashioned Liberal myself," declared the vicar.  "But I hope
+your Radicals are sound churchmen, whatever else they may be."
+
+"Humphrey Baskerville is--and so's his son."
+
+"Is that young Mark Baskerville?"
+
+"Yes--tenor bell among the ringers.  A very uneven-minded man.  He's a
+wonderful ringer and wrapped up in tenor bell, as if 'twas a heathen
+idol.  In fact, he'm not the good Christian he might be, and he'll ring
+oftener than he'll pray.  Then Saul Luscombe to Trowlesworthy
+Warren--farmer and rabbit-catcher--be a very hard nut, and so's his
+man, Jack Head.  You won't get either of them inside the church.  They
+say in their wicked way they ain't got no need for sleeping after
+breakfast of a Sunday--atheists, in fact.  The other labouring man from
+Trowlesworthy is a good Christian, however.  He can read, but 'tis
+doubtful whether he can write."
+
+"You'll have to go to keep your appointment, Dennis," remarked his
+sister.
+
+"Plenty of time.  Is there anything more that's particularly important,
+Gollop?"
+
+"Lots more.  Still, if I'm to be shouted down every minute----  I comed
+to encourage and fortify you.  I comed to tell you to have no fear,
+because me and sister was on your side, and always ready to fight to
+the death for righteousness.  But you've took the wind out of our
+sails, in a manner of speaking.  If you ban't going to walk in the old
+paths, I'm terrible afraid you'll find us against you."
+
+"This is impertinence," said Miss Masterman.
+
+"Not at all," answered the clerk's sister.  "It's sense.  'Tis a free
+country, and if you'm going to set a lot of God-fearing, right-minded,
+sensible people by the ears, the sin be on your shoulders.  You'd best
+to come home, Thomas."
+
+Mr. Masterman looked helplessly at his watch.
+
+"We shall soon arrive at--at--a _modus vivendi_," he said.
+
+"I don't know what that may be, your reverence," she answered; "but if
+'tis an empty church, and sour looks, and trouble behind every hedge,
+then you certainly will arrive at it--and even sooner than you think
+for."
+
+"He's going to give ear to the Radicals--'tis too clear," moaned
+Thomas, as he rose and picked up his hat.
+
+"I can only trust that you two good people do not represent the
+parish," continued the vicar.
+
+"You'll terrible soon find as we do," said Miss Gollop.
+
+"So much the worse.  However, it is well that we understand one
+another.  Next Sunday I shall invite my leading parishioners to meet me
+in the schoolroom on the following evening.  I shall then state my
+intentions, and listen to the opinions and objections of every man
+among you."
+
+"And only the men will be invited to the meeting," added Miss Masterman.
+
+"'Tis a parlous come-along-of-it," moaned the parish clerk.  "I meant
+well.  You can bear me out, Eliza, that I meant well--never man meant
+better."
+
+"Good evening," said Miss Masterman, and left them.
+
+"Be sure that we shall soon settle down," prophesied the vicar.  "I
+know you mean well, Gollop; and I mean well, too.  Where sensible
+people are concerned, friction is reduced to a minimum.  We shall very
+soon understand one another and respect one another's opinions."
+
+"If you respect people's opinions, you abide by 'em," declared Miss
+Gollop.
+
+"Us shan't be able to keep the cart on the wheels--not with a
+night-gowned choir," foretold her brother.
+
+Then Dennis saw them to the door; they took their leave, and as they
+went down the vicarage drive, their voices bumbled together, like two
+slow, shard-borne beetles droning on the night.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+Both the yeoman and gentle families of Devon have undergone a wide and
+deep disintegration during the recent past.  Many are swept away, and
+the downfall dates back beyond the eighteenth century, when war, dice,
+and the bottle laid foundations of subsequent ruin; but the descendants
+of many an ancient stock are still with us, and noble names shall be
+found at the plough-handle; historical patronymics, on the land.
+
+The race of Baskerville had borne arms and stood for the king in Stuart
+times.  The family was broken in the Parliamentary Wars and languished
+for certain centuries; then it took heart and lifted head once more.
+The three brothers who now carried on their line were doubly enriched,
+for their father had died in good case and left a little fortune behind
+him; while an uncle, blessed with some tincture of the gipsy blood that
+had flowed into the native stock a hundred years before, found Devon
+too small a theatre for his activities and migrated to Australia.  He
+died a bachelor, and left his money to his nephews.
+
+Thus the trio began life under fortunate circumstances; and it appeared
+that two had prospered and justified existence; while concerning the
+other little could be affirmed, save a latent and general dislike
+founded on vague hearsay.
+
+They were different as men well could be, yet each displayed strong
+individuality and an assertive temperament.  All inherited some
+ancestral strength, but disparities existed between their tastes, their
+judgments, and their ambitions.
+
+Vivian Baskerville was generous, self-opinionated, and kind-hearted.
+He loved, before all things, work, yet, in direct opposition to this
+ruling passion, tolerated and spoiled a lazy eldest son.  From the rest
+of his family he exacted full measure of labour and very perfect
+obedience.  He was a man of crystallised opinions--one who resented
+change, and built on blind tradition.
+
+Nathan Baskerville had a volatile and swift-minded spirit.  He was
+sympathetic, but not so sympathetic as his manner made him appear.  He
+had a histrionic knack to seem more than he felt; yet this was not all
+acting, but a mixture of art and instinct.  He trusted to tact, to a
+sense of humour with its accompanying tolerance, and to swift appraisal
+of human character.  Adaptability was his watchword.
+
+Humphrey Baskerville personified doubt.  His apparent chill
+indifference crushed the young and irritated the old.  An outward
+gloominess of manner and a pessimistic attitude to affairs sufficed to
+turn the folk from him.  While he seemed the spirit of negation made
+alive, he was, nevertheless, a steadfast Christian, and his dark mind,
+chaotic though it continued to be even into age, enjoyed one precious
+attribute of chaos and continued plastic and open to impressions.  None
+understood this quality in him.  He did not wholly understand it
+himself.  But he was ever seeking for content, and the search had thus
+far taken him into many fruitless places and landed him in blind alleys
+not a few.
+
+These adventures, following his wife's death, had served to sour him in
+some directions; and the late ripening of a costive but keen
+intelligence did not as yet appear to his neighbours.  It remained to
+be seen whether time would ever achieve a larger wisdom, patience, and
+understanding in him--whether considerable mental endowments would
+ultimately lift him nearer peace and content, or plunge him deeper into
+despondence and incorrigible gloom.  He was as interesting as Nathan
+was attractive and Vivian, obvious.
+
+The attitude of the brothers each to the other may be recorded in a
+sentence.  Vivian immensely admired the innkeeper and depended no
+little upon his judgment in temporal affairs, but Humphrey he did not
+understand; Nathan patronised his eldest brother and resented
+Humphrey's ill-concealed dislike; while the master of Hawk House held
+Vivian in regard, as an honest and single-minded man, but did not share
+the world's esteem for Nathan.  They always preserved reciprocal
+amenities and were accounted on friendly terms.
+
+Upon the occasion of the eldest brother's seventieth birthday, both
+Vivian and Nathan stood at the outer gate of Cadworthy and welcomed
+Humphrey when he alighted off his semi-blind pony.
+
+Years sat lightly on the farmer.  He was a man of huge girth and height
+above the average.  He had a red moon face, with a great fleshy jowl
+set in white whiskers.  His brow was broad and low; his small, pig-like
+eyes twinkled with kindliness.  It was a favourite jest with him that
+he weighed within a stone or two as much as his brothers put together.
+
+They shook hands and went in, while Mark and Rupert took the ponies.
+The three brothers all wore Sunday black; and Vivian had a yellow tie
+on that made disharmony with the crimson of his great cheeks.  This
+mountain of a man walked between the others, and Nathan came to his ear
+and Humphrey did not reach his shoulder.  The last looked a mere shadow
+beside his brother.
+
+"Seventy year to-day, and have moved two ton of sacks--a hundredweight
+to the sack--'twixt breaksis and noon.  And never felt better than this
+minute," he told them.
+
+"'Tis folly, all the same--this heavy work that you delight in,"
+declared Nathan.  "I'm sure Humphrey's of my mind.  You oughtn't to do
+such a lot of young man's work.  'Tis foolish and quite uncalled for."
+
+"The young men can't do it, maybe," said Humphrey.  "Vivian be three
+men rolled into one--with the strength of three for all his threescore
+and ten years.  But you're in the right.  He's too old for these deeds.
+There's no call for weight-lifting and all this sweating labour, though
+he is such a mighty man of his hands still."
+
+Mr. Baskerville of Cadworthy laughed.
+
+"You be such brainy blids--the pair of you--that you haven't got no
+patience with me and my schoolboy fun.  But, then, I never had no
+intellects like you--all ran into muscle and bone.  And 'tis my
+pleasure to show the young generation what strength be.  The Reverend
+Masterman preached from a very onusual text Sunday, 'There were giants
+in those days,' it was--or some such words, if my memory serves me.
+And Rupert and May, as were along with me, said as surely I belonged to
+the giant race!"
+
+He laughed with a loud, simple explosion of ingenuous merriment, and
+led the way to the parlour.
+
+There his wife, in black silk, welcomed her brothers-in-law and
+received their congratulations.  Humphrey fumbled at a parcel which he
+produced from his breast.  He untied the string, wound it up, and put
+it into his pocket.
+
+"'Tis a book as I heard well spoken of," he said.  "There's only one
+Book for you and me, I believe, Vivian; but an old man as I know came
+by this, and he said 'twas light in his darkness; so I went and bought
+a copy for you by way of something to mark the day.  Very like 'tis all
+rubbish, and if so you can throw it behind the fire."
+
+"Sermons, and good ones without a doubt," answered the farmer.  "I'm
+very fond of sermons, and I'll lay on to 'em without delay and let you
+know what I think.  Not that my opinion of such a thing do count; but I
+can tell to a hair if they'm within the meaning of Scripture, and that
+be all that matters.  And thank you kindly, I'm sure."
+
+"Tom Gollop's got terrible down-daunted about Mr. Masterman," said
+Nathan.  "He says that your parson is a Radical, and will bring down
+dreadful things on the parish."
+
+"Old fool," answered Humphrey.  "'Tis just what we want, within the
+meaning of reason, to have a few of the cobwebs swept away."
+
+"But you're a Radical too, and all for sweeping away," argued his
+eldest brother doubtfully.
+
+"I'm for folly and nonsense being swept away, certainly.  I'm for all
+this cant about humility and our duty to our superiors being swept
+away.  I hate to see chaps pulling their hair to other men no better
+than themselves, and all that knock-kneed, servile rubbish."
+
+Nathan felt this to be a challenge.
+
+"We take off our hats to the blood in a man's veins, if 'tis blue
+enough--not to the man."
+
+"And hate the man all the time, maybe--and so act a lie when we cap to
+him and pretend what isn't true."
+
+"You go too far," declared Nathan.
+
+"I say that we hate anything that's stronger than we are," continued
+his brother.  "We hate brains that's stronger than our own, or pockets
+that's deeper.  The only folk that we smile upon honestly be those we
+reckon greater fools than ourselves."
+
+Vivian laughed loud at this.
+
+"What a sharp tongue the man hath!" he exclaimed.  "But he's wrong, for
+all that.  For if I only smiled at them who had less brains than
+myself, I should go glum from morn till night."
+
+"Don't say it, father!" cried his wife.  "Too humble-minded you be, and
+always will be."
+
+"'Tis only a very wise man that knows himself for a fool, all the
+same," declared Nathan.  "As for Humphrey here, maybe 'tis because men
+hate brains bigger than their own, as he says, that he hasn't got a
+larger circle of friends himself.  We all know he's the cleverest man
+among us."
+
+Humphrey was about to speak again, but restrained the inclination and
+turned to his nieces who now appeared.
+
+Polly lacked character and existed as the right hand of her mother; but
+May took physically after Vivian, and represented his first joy and the
+apple of his eye.  She was a girl of great breadth and bulk every way.
+The beauty of youth still belonged to her clean white and red face, and
+her yellow hair was magnificent; but it required no prophet to foretell
+that poor May, when her present colt-like life of physical activity
+decreased, must swiftly grow too vast for her own comfort or the
+temptation of the average lover.
+
+The youngest of the family--his Uncle Humphrey's namesake--followed his
+sisters.  He was a brown boy, well set up and shy.  Of all men he
+feared the elder Humphrey most.  Now he shook hands evasively.
+
+"Don't stare at the ceiling and the floor, but look me in the eyes.  I
+hate a chap as glances athwart his nose like that," said the master of
+Hawk House.  Whereat the lesser Humphrey scowled and flushed.  Then he
+braced himself for the ordeal and stared steadily into his uncle's eyes.
+
+The duel lasted full two minutes, and the boy's father laughed and
+applauded him.  At last young Humphrey's eyes fell.
+
+"That's better," said Humphrey the elder.  "You learn to keep your gaze
+on the eyes of other people, my lad, if you want to know the truth
+about 'em.  A voice will teach you a lot, but the eyes are the book for
+me--eh, Nathan?"
+
+"No doubt there's a deal in that."
+
+"And if 'twas followed, perhaps we shouldn't take our hats off to
+certain people quite so often as we do," added Humphrey, harking back
+to the old grievance.  "What's the good of being respectful to those
+you don't respect and ought not to respect?"
+
+"The man's hungry!" said Vivian.  "'Tis starvation making him so crusty
+and so clever.  Come now, ban't dinner ready?"
+
+Mrs. Baskerville had departed and Polly with her.
+
+"Hurry 'em up," cried Vivian, and his youngest son hastened to do so.
+
+Meantime Nathan, who was also hungry, and who also desired to display
+agility of mind before his elder brother, resumed the argument with
+Humphrey and answered his last question.
+
+"Because we've everything to gain by being civil, and nought to gain by
+being otherwise, as things are nowadays.  Civility costs nothing and
+the rich expect it of the poor, and gentle expect it of simple.  Why
+not?  You can't mar them by being rude; but you can mar yourself.  'The
+golden rule for a pushing man is to be well thought upon.'  That's what
+our father used to say.  And it's sound sense, if you ask me.  Of
+course, I'm not speaking for us, but for the younger generation, and if
+they can prosper by tact and civility to their betters, why not?  We
+like the younger and humbler people to be civil to us; then why
+shouldn't they be civil to parson and squire?"
+
+"How if parson be no good, and squire a drinker or a rascal?"
+
+"That's neither here nor there.  'Tis their calling and rank and the
+weight behind 'em."
+
+"Trash!" said Humphrey sourly.  "Let every man be weighed in his own
+balance and show himself what he is.  That's what I demand.  Why should
+we pretend and give people the credit of what they stand for, if they
+don't stand for it?"
+
+"For a lot of reasons----" began Nathan; then the boy Humphrey returned
+to say that dinner was ready.
+
+They sat down, and through the steam that rose from a dish of ducks
+Humphrey looked at Nathan and spoke.
+
+"What reasons?" he said.  "For your credit's sake you can't leave it
+there."
+
+"If you will have it, you will have it--though this isn't the time or
+place; but Vivian must blame you, not me.  Life's largely a game of
+make-believe and pretence, and, right or wrong, we've got to suffer it.
+We should all be no better than lonely monkeys or Red Indians, if we
+didn't pretend a bit more than we meant and say a bit more than we'd
+swear to.  Monkeys don't pretend, and what's the result?  They've all
+gone under."
+
+They wrangled until the food was on the plates, then Vivian, who had
+been puffing out his cheeks, rolling his eyes and showing uneasiness in
+other ways, displayed a sudden irritability.
+
+"God damn it!" he cried.  "Let's have no more of this!  Be the meal to
+be sarved with no sauce but all this blasted nonsense?  Get the drink,
+Rupert."
+
+Nathan expressed instant regret and strove to lift the tone of the
+company.  But the cloud did not pass so easily.  Vivian himself soon
+forgot the incident; his children and his wife found it difficult.  The
+young people, indeed, maintained a very dogged taciturnity and only
+talked among themselves in subdued tones.  May and Polly waited upon
+the rest between the intervals of their own meal.  They changed the
+dishes and went to and from the kitchen.  Rupert and his youngest
+brother helped them, but Ned did not.
+
+Some cheerfulness returned with the beer, and even Humphrey Baskerville
+strove to assist the general jollity; but he lacked the power.  His
+mind was of the discomfortable sort that cannot suffer opinions,
+believed erroneous, to pass unchallenged.  Sometimes he expressed no
+more than doubt; sometimes he dissented forcibly to Nathan's
+generalities.  But after Vivian's heat at the beginning of the
+entertainment, his brother from 'The White Thorn' was cautious, and
+took care to raise no more dust of controversy.
+
+The talk ran on the new vicar, and the master of Cadworthy spoke well
+of him.
+
+"An understanding man, and for my part, though I can't pretend to like
+new things, yet I ban't going to quarrel for nothing.  And if he likes
+to put the boys in surplices and make the maidens sit with the
+congregation, I don't see no great harm.  They can sing praises to God
+wi' their noses to the east just so easy as they can facing north."
+
+"Well said," declared Humphrey.  "I've no patience with such fools as
+Gollop."
+
+"As one outside and after a different persuasion, I can look on
+impartial," declared Nathan.  "And I think with you both that Masterman
+is a useful and promising man.  As for Gollop, he's the sort that can't
+see further than the end of the parish, and don't want to do so."
+
+"For why?  He'd tell you there's nought beyond," said Humphrey.  "He
+foxes himself to think that the world can go on without change.  He
+fancies that he alone of us all be a solid lighthouse, stuck up to
+watch the waves roll by.  'Tis a sign of a terrible weak intellect to
+think that everybody's changeable but ourselves, and that we only be
+the ones that know no shadow of changing.  Yet I've seen many such
+men--with a cheerful conceit of themselves too."
+
+"There's lots like that--common as blackberries in my bar," declared
+Nathan.  "Old fellows most times, that reckon they are the only
+steadfast creatures left on earth, while everybody else be like
+feathers blown about in a gale of change."
+
+"Every mortal man and woman be bound to change," answered his brother.
+"'Tis the law of nature.  I'd give nought for a man of hard and fast
+opinions.  Such stand high and dry behind the times."
+
+But Vivian would not allow this.
+
+"No, no, Humphrey; that won't do.  If us wasn't fixed and firm, the
+world couldn't go on."
+
+"Vivian means we must have a lever of solid opinions to lift our load
+in the world," explained Nathan.  "Of course, no grown man wants to be
+flying to a new thing every day of his life, like the young people do."
+
+"The lever's the Bible," declared Humphrey.  "I've nought to do with
+any man who goes beyond that; but, outside that, there's a margin for
+change as the world grows, and 'tis vain to run your life away from the
+new facts the wise men find out."
+
+"I don't hold with you," declared Vivian.  "At such a gait us would
+never use the same soap or wear the same clothes two years together.
+If you'm going to run your life by the newspapers, you'm in the same
+case with the chaps and the donkey in the fable.  What father believed
+and held to, I shall believe and hold to; for he was a better man than
+me and knowed a lot more."
+
+Humphrey shook his head.
+
+"If we all thought so, the world would stand still," he replied.  "'Tis
+the very argument pushed in the papers to-day about teaching the young
+people.  'Tis said they must be taught just what their parents want for
+'m to be taught.  And who knows best, I should like to know--the
+parents and guardians, as have finished their learning years ago and be
+miles behind-hand in their knowledge, or the schoolmasters and
+mistresses as be up to date in their larning and full of the latest
+things put into books?  There's no standing still with the world any
+more than there's standing still with the sun.  It can't be.  Law's
+against it."
+
+"We must have change," admitted Nathan.
+
+"For sure we must.  'Tis the only way to keep sweet--like water running
+forward.  If you block it in a pond, it goes stagnant; and if you block
+your brains, they rot."
+
+"Then let us leave it at that," said Vivian's wife.  "And now, if you
+men have done your drink, you can go off and smoke while we tidy up."
+
+But there was yet a duty to perform, and Nathan rose and whispered in
+Humphrey's ear.
+
+"I think the time's come for drinking his health.  It must be done.
+Will you propose it?"
+
+His brother answered aloud.
+
+"Nathan wants for me to propose your good health, Vivian.  But I ban't
+going to.  That sort of thing isn't in my line.  I wish you nought but
+well, and there's an end on't."
+
+"Then I'll say a word," declared the innkeeper, returning to his place.
+"Fill your glasses--just a drop more, Hester, you must drink--isn't it
+to your own husband?  And I say here, in this family party, that 'tis a
+proud and a happy thing to have for the head of the family such a man
+as our brother--your husband, Hester; and your father, you boys and
+girls.  Long may he be spared to stand up among us and set us a good
+example of what's brave and comely in man; long may he be spared, I
+say, and from my heart I bless him for a good brother and husband and
+father, and wish him many happy returns of his birthday.  My love and
+honour to you, Vivian!"
+
+They all rose and spoke after the custom of the clan.
+
+"My love and honour to you, brother," said Humphrey.
+
+"My love and honour to you, Vivian Baskerville," said his wife.
+
+"Love and honour to you, father," murmured the boys and girls.
+
+And Mark said, "Love and honour to you, uncle."
+
+There was a gulching of liquor in the silence that followed, and Mr.
+Baskerville's little eyes twinkled.
+
+"You silly folk!" he said.  "God knows there's small need of this.  But
+thank you all--wife, children, brothers, and nephew.  I be getting up
+home to my tether's end now, and can't look with certainty for over and
+above another ten birthdays or thereabouts; but such as come we'll keep
+together, if it pleases you.  And if you be drinking, then here's to
+you all at a breath--to you all, not forgetting my son Nathan that's
+sailing on the sea."
+
+"I'll write to Nat and tell him every blessed word of it, and what
+we've had for dinner and all," said May.
+
+The company grew hilarious and Nathan, leaving them, went to the trap
+that had brought him from Shaugh Prior and returned with a bottle.
+
+"'Tis a pretty cordial," he said, "and a thimbleful all round will
+steady what's gone and warm our hearts.  Not but what they'm warm
+enough already."
+
+The liquor was broached and all drank but Humphrey.
+
+"Enough's as good as a feast.  And you can saddle my pony, Mark.  I'm
+going home now.  I'm glad to have been here to-day; but I'm going now."
+
+They pressed him to remain, but he judged the invitation to be
+half-hearted.  However, he was tranquil and amiable at leave-taking.
+To Rupert he even extended an invitation.
+
+Rupert was the only one of his brother's family for whom he even
+pretended regard.
+
+"You can come and see me when you've got the time," he said.  "I'll go
+for a walk along with you and hear what you have to say."
+
+Then he rode off, but Mark stopped and finished the day with his
+cousins.
+
+He talked to Rupert and, with secret excitement, heard the opinions of
+May and Polly on the subject of Cora Lintern.
+
+A very glowing and genial atmosphere settled over Cadworthy after the
+departure of Humphrey Baskerville.  Even the nervous Mark consented to
+sing a song or two.  The musical traditions of the Baskervilles had
+reawakened in him, and on rare occasions he favoured his friends with
+old ballads.  But in church he never sang, and often only went there to
+ring the tenor bell.
+
+Mr. Nathan also rendered certain comic songs, and May played the aged
+piano.  Then there was dancing and dust and noise, and presently the
+meal called 'high tea.'  Hester Baskerville protested at last against
+her brother-in-law's absurdities, for everybody began to roll about and
+ache with laughter; but he challenged her criticism.
+
+"Clever though you all are," he said, "no woman that ever I met was
+clever enough to play the fool.  'Tis only the male creature can
+accomplish that."
+
+"No woman ever wanted to, I should hope," she answered; and he retorted
+triumphantly--
+
+"There you are!  There's my argument in a nutshell!"
+
+She was puzzled.
+
+"What d'you mean by that?" she asked, and, from the standpoint of his
+nimble wit, he roared.
+
+"There you are again!" he said.  "I can't explain; but the lack in you
+be summed in the question."
+
+"You'm a hopeless case," she said.  "We all laugh at you, and yet
+couldn't for the life of us tell what on earth 'tis we be laughing at."
+
+"That's the very highest art and practice of playing the fool!" he told
+them.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+Where Wigmore Down descends in mighty shoulders clad with oak, there
+meet the rivers Plym and Mew, after their diverse journeyings on
+Dartmoor.  The first roars wild and broken from its cradle aloft on the
+midmost waste, and falls with thunder under Cadworthy and beneath the
+Dewerstone; the other, as becomes a stream that has run through
+peaceful valleys by bridges and the hamlets of men, shall be found to
+wander with more gentle current before she passes into the throbbing
+bosom of her sister.  Above them, on a day in early summer, the hill
+ascended washed with light, spread hugely for the pomp of the leaf.
+
+From Plym beneath, flashing arrowy under their lowermost branches, to
+the granite tonsure of the hill above, ten thousand trees ascended in a
+shining raiment of all greens--a garment that fitted close to the
+contours of each winding ridge, sharp cleeve, and uplifted knoll of the
+elevation that they covered.  Lustrous and shimmering, this forest garb
+exhibited every vernal tint that nature knows, for upon a prevalent,
+triumphant fabric of golden-green were cast particular jewels and
+patterns; against the oaken undertones, where they spread a dappled
+verdure of amber and carmine, there sprang the tardy ash, shone the
+rowan's brightness, sparkled the whitethorn at river's brink, and rose
+the emerald pavilions of the larch.  Beeches thrust their diaphanous
+foliage in veils athwart the shadows; here a patchwork of blue firs
+added new harmonies to the hill; here the glittering birch reflected
+light from every tiny leaf; and here the holly's sobriety was broken by
+inflorescence and infant foliage, young and bright.
+
+The forest spread its new-born leaves under a still, grey evening, upon
+which, suddenly, the sun thrust through before it sank.  Shafts of
+light, falling from west to east upon the planes of the woods, struck
+out a path of sudden glory along the pine-tops and thrust down in rain
+of red gold even to the river's face; while on Dewerstone's self, where
+it towered above the trees and broke the green with grey, this gracious
+light briefly brooded and flashed genial into dark crevices and hidden
+nests of birds.
+
+The great rock falls by abrupt acclivity to the water; it towers with
+pinnacle and peak aloft.  Planted in the side of the forest it stands
+veined, scarred; it is fretted with many colours, cut and torn into all
+manner of fantastic shapes by work of roots and rain, by centuries of
+storm and the chisel of the lightning.  Bedded here, with ivy on its
+front, the smile of evening for a crown, and the forest like a green
+sea breaking in foam of leaves around it, the Water Stone stood.  Night
+was already come upon its eaves and cornices; from its feet ascended
+musical thunder of Plym in a riot of rocks; and aloft, clashing,
+echoing and re-echoing from scarp and precipice, there rang the
+cheerful chiming music of unnumbered jackdaws, who made these crags
+their home.
+
+Mark Baskerville, descending into the valley from Shaugh, beheld this
+scene with understanding.  He had been well educated; he was
+sentimental; he regarded wild Nature in a manner rare amid those born
+and bred upon her bosom.  Beauty did not find him indifferent; old
+legends gave him joy.  He knew the folk-tales of the land and dwelt
+upon them still with pleasure--an instinct surviving from boyhood, and
+deliberately suffered to survive.  He loved the emotion of awe and
+cultivated it; he led a life from choice much secluded; he had walked
+hitherto blind, in so far as women were concerned; but now a woman had
+entered his life, and Nature shone glorified throughout by the
+experience.
+
+Mark was in love with Cora Lintern; yet this prime fact did not lessen
+his regard for the earth and the old stories concerning it.  He found
+the things that were good aforetime still good, but changed.  His
+emotions were all sharpened and intensified.  His strength was
+stronger; his weakness was weaker than of yore.  She was never out of
+his thoughts; she made the sunlight warmer, the bird's song sweeter,
+the night more wonderful.  He woke and found himself brave enough to
+approach her in the deep, small hours of morning; but with dawn came
+fear, and with day his courage melted.  By night also he made rhymes
+that seemed beautiful to him and brought moisture to his eyes; but when
+the sun came and he repeated his stumbling periods, he blushed at them
+and banished them.
+
+She was friendly and not averse; but she was clever, and had many
+friends among young men.  Nathan Baskerville rejoiced in her, and often
+foretold a notable match for Cora.  What Mark could offer seemed very
+little to Mark himself.  His father, indeed, was reputed rich; but life
+at Hawk House revealed no sign of it.  They lived hard, and Humphrey
+Baskerville affected a frugality that would have been unusual in the
+homes of humbler people.
+
+Humphrey had often told his son that he did not know how to spend
+money; and as for Mark, until the present, he had shared his father's
+indifference and been well content.  But he felt that Cora might be
+fond of money; and he was glad sometimes that his father spent so
+little; because, if all went well, there must surely come a time when
+he would be able to rejoice Cora with great riches.  The obstacle,
+however, he felt to be himself.  His distrust of himself was morbid;
+the folk said that he was frightened of his own voice, and only spoke
+through the tenor bell of St. Edward's.
+
+Now he descended into the shadows of the valley and moved along the
+brink of Plym, seeking for certain young wood, ripe for cutting.
+Presently Mark found what he sought, but made no immediate effort to
+begin work.  He flung down a frail which contained a bill-hook and saw.
+Then he sat upon a rock overhanging the river and buried himself in his
+own thoughts.
+
+A path wound beside the stream, and along it sauntered suddenly the
+maiden of this man's dream.  She looked fair enough and moved in deep
+apparent unconsciousness of any human presence.
+
+But her ignorance was simulated.  She had seen young Baskerville pass
+over the hill; she had known his destination, and by a detour she had
+entered the valley from below.
+
+Now she started and exhibited astonishment.
+
+"Mark!  Whoever would have thought----!  What be you doing here all
+alone like this--and you not a fisherman?"
+
+He stammered, and grew pale.
+
+"Fancy meeting; and I might ask what brought you, Cora?"
+
+"Oh, just a silly fondness for the river and the trees and my own
+thoughts.  I like being about among the wild things, though I dare say
+you won't believe it."
+
+"Of course, I'll believe it--gladly too.  Don't I like being about
+among 'em better than anything else?  I'm very pleased to meet you, I'm
+sure.  There's no lovelier bit of the river than here."
+
+"Dewerstone do look fine to-night," she said, glancing up at the crags
+above them.
+
+"It does, then.  The Water Stone I always call it, since I read in a
+book that that was what it meant.  'Tis the great stone by the water,
+you see.  Have you ever heard tell of the Black Hunter, Cora?  But
+perhaps you don't hold with such old wife's tales?"
+
+She put him at his ease and assured him that she loved ancient fables
+and liked to go on believing them, despite her better knowledge.
+
+"Just the same as me!" he cried eagerly.  "The very thing I do.  How
+wonderful you should feel the same!  I know 'tis rubbish, yet I let it
+go sadly.  I'd believe in the pixies, if I could!"
+
+"Who was the Black Hunter, if you don't mind telling me?" she asked.
+"I'll sit here a bit afore I go on, if it won't be to hinder you."
+
+"Proud I am, I'm sure," he said.  "And as for him, the Black Hunter,
+that's no more than another name for the Devil himself.  'Twas thought
+that he'd come here by night with his great, bellowing, red-eyed dogs,
+and go forth to hunt souls.  A coal-black horse he rode; but sometimes
+he'd set out afoot, for 'tis well remembered how once in the deep snow,
+on a winter morn, human footprints, along with hoofmarks, were traced
+to the top of the hill, but not down again!"
+
+"The devil flew away with somebody?"
+
+"So the old story says.  But I like the thought of the little Heath
+Hounds better.  For they hunt and harry old Nick's self.  They are the
+spirits of the young children who die before they are baptised; and the
+legend hath it that they win to heaven soon or late by hunting the
+Prince of Darkness.  'Tis the children that we bury with maimed rites
+upon 'Chrisomers' Hill' in the churchyard.  They put that poor woman
+who killed herself in the same place, because the old parson wouldn't
+read 'sure and certain hope' over her."
+
+But Cora was not interested in his conversation, though she pretended
+to be.  She endeavoured to turn speech into a more personal road.
+
+"What have you come here for?  I hadn't any idea you ever took walks
+alone."
+
+"I take hundreds--terrible poor hand at neighbouring with people, I
+am--like my father.  But I'm here to work--getting handles for tools.
+There's no wood for light tools like alder.  You know the old rhyme--
+
+  'When aller's leaf is so big as a penny,
+  The stick will wear so tough as any.'
+
+That's true enough, for I've proved it."
+
+"Set to work and I'll watch you, if I may."
+
+"Proud, I'm sure.  And I'll see you home after.  But there's no haste.
+I was thinking that bare, dark corner in the garden at Undershaugh
+might do very nice for ferns--if you'd care----?"
+
+"The very thing!  How kind to think of it.  I love the garden and the
+flowers.  But none else cares about them.  D'you think you could get me
+one of they king ferns?  But I suppose that would be too much to ask."
+
+"I'll get you more than one."
+
+"I'll try to plant 'em then, but I'm not very clever."
+
+"I'll come and make a bit of a rockery myself, if--if you like."
+
+"'Like!"  I should love it.  But 'tis very good of you to bother about
+a stupid girl."
+
+"Don't you say that.  Far, far from stupid.  Never was a cleverer girl,
+I'm sure."
+
+She shook her head and talked about the ferns.  Then she became
+personal.
+
+"I've always felt somehow with you; but I suppose it ban't maidenly to
+say such things--but I've always felt as you understood me, Mark."
+
+"Ah!" he said.  "And as for me, I've felt--God, He knows what I've
+felt."
+
+The man broke off, and she smiled at him and dropped her eyes.  She
+knew the thing that shared his heart with her, and now spoke of it.
+
+"And through you I've got to love tenor bell almost as much as you do.
+Of a Sunday the day isn't complete till I've heard the beautiful note
+of your bell and thought of you at the rope.  I always somehow think of
+you when I hear that bell; and I think of the bell when I see you!
+Ban't that strange?"
+
+"'Tis your wonderful quick mind, and you couldn't say anything to
+please me better."
+
+"I wanted to ask you about the bells.  I'm so ignorant; but I thought,
+if 'twasn't silly of me, I'd ask you about 'em.  I suppose they'm awful
+difficult to ring?"
+
+"Not a bit.  Only wants steady practice.  The whole business is little
+understood, but 'tis simple enough.  I've gone into it all from the
+beginning, and I'm glad--very glad--you care about it.  The first thing
+is for a ring of bells to be in harmony with itself, and founders ought
+to be free to make 'em so.  The bells are never better than when they
+are broken out of the moulds, and every touch of the lathe, or chip of
+the chisel, is music lost.  The thickness of the sound-bow should be
+one-thirteenth of the diameter, you must know; but modern bells are
+made for cheapness.  Long in the waist and high in the shoulder they
+should be for true fineness of sound; but they cast 'em with short
+waists and flat shoulders now.  'Tis easier to hang and ring them so;
+but they don't give the same music.  My tenor is a wonderful good
+bell--a maiden bell, as we say--one cast true, that has never had a
+chip at the sound-bow.  'I call the quick to church and dead to grave,'
+is her motto.  A Pennington bell she is, and no bell-founder ever cast
+a better.  Every year makes her sweeter, for there's nothing improves
+bell-metal like time."
+
+"I suppose it wouldn't be possible for me actually to see the bells?"
+
+"It can be done and shall be," he promised.  Then he went off again.
+
+"I've been in nearly every bell-cot and bell-turret in Devonshire, one
+time and another, and I've took a hand in change-ringing far and wide;
+but our ring of six, for its size and weight, can't be beat in the
+county, and there's no sweeter tenor that I've heard than mine.  And
+I'm very hopeful that Mr. Masterman will take my advice and have our
+wheels and gear looked to, and the bell-chamber cleaned out.  'Tis the
+home of birds, and the nest litter lies feet deep up there.  The
+ladder's all rotten too.  We ought to have stays and slides; and our
+ropes are a bit too heavy, and lack tuftings for the sally.  I'm
+hopeful he'll have a care for these things."
+
+He prattled on, for it was his subject and always loosed his tongue.
+She was bored to death, but from time to time, when he feared that he
+wearied her, she assured him that her interest did not wane and was
+only less than his own.  He showed unusual excitement at this meeting,
+was lifted out of himself, and talked until grey gloaming sank over the
+valley and the jackdaws were silent.  Then Cora started up and declared
+that she must return home quickly.
+
+"Listening to you has made me forget all about the time and
+everything," she said.  "They'll wonder whatever has befallen me."
+
+"I'll see you home," he answered.  "'Tis my fault you'll be late, and I
+must take the blame."
+
+"And I've kept you from your work, I'm afraid."
+
+"That's no matter at all.  To-morrow will do just as well for the
+alder."
+
+He rose and walked beside her.  She asked him to help her at one place
+in the wood, and her cool, firm hand thrilled him.  Once or twice he
+thought to take this noble opportunity and utter the thing in his
+heart; but he could not bring himself to do it.  Then, at her gate, he
+left her, and they exchanged many assurances of mutual thanks and
+obligation.  He promised to bring the ferns in three days' time, and
+undertook to spend an evening with the Linterns, build the rockery, and
+stay to supper with the family afterwards.
+
+He walked home treading on air, with his mind full of hope and
+happiness.  Cora had never been so close as on this day; she had never
+vouchsafed such an intimate glimpse of her beautiful spirit before.
+Each word, each look seemed to bring her nearer; and yet, when he
+reflected on his own imperfections, a wave of doubt swept coldly over
+him.  He supped in silence, but, after the meal, he confessed the
+thoughts in his mind.
+
+"Never broke a twig this evening," he said.  "Was just going to begin,
+when who should come along but Cora Lintern."
+
+"Has she forgiven parson for turning her out of the choir?  Can't
+practise that side-glance at the men no more now."
+
+"She's not that sort, father."
+
+"Not with a face like hers?  That girl would rather go hungry than
+without admiration and flattering.  A little peacock, and so vain as
+one."
+
+"You're wrong there.  I'll swear it.  She's very different to what you
+reckon.  Why, this very evening, there she was under the Water Stone
+all alone--walking along by herself just for love of the place.  Often
+goes there, she tells me."
+
+"Very surprised to find you there--eh?"
+
+"That she was.  And somehow I got talking--such a silent man as me most
+times.  But I found myself chattering about the bells and one thing and
+another.  We've got a lot more in common than you might think."
+
+Mr. Baskerville smoked and looked into the fire.
+
+"Well, don't be in a hurry.  I'm not against marriage for the young
+men.  But bide your time, till you've got more understanding of women."
+
+"I'll never find another like her.  I'm sure she'd please you, father."
+
+"You'll be rich in a small way, as the world goes, presently.
+Remember, she knows that as well as you do."
+
+"She never speaks of money.  Just so simple and easily pleased as I am
+myself, for that matter.  She loves natural things--just the things you
+care about yourself."
+
+"And very much interested in tenor bell, no doubt?"
+
+"How did you guess that?  But 'tis perfectly true.  She is; and she
+said a very kind thing that was very hopeful to me to hear.  She said
+that the bell always put her in mind of me, and I always put her in
+mind of the bell."
+
+"I wonder!  And did you tell her what was writ on the bell?"
+
+"Yes, I did, father."
+
+"And d'you know what she thought?"
+
+Mark shook his head.
+
+"She thought that the sooner it called you and her to church together,
+and the sooner it called me to my grave, the pleasanter life would look
+for her hard eyes."
+
+"Father!  'Tis cruel and unjust to say such things."
+
+"Haven't I seen her there o' Sundays ever since she growed up?  There's
+nought tells you more about people than their ways in church.  As
+bright as a bee and smart and shining; but hard--hard as the nether
+millstone, that woman's heart.  Have a care of her; that's all I'll say
+to you."
+
+"I hope to God you'll know her better some day, father."
+
+"And I hope you will, my lad; and I'll use your strong words too, and
+hope to God you'll know her better afore 'tis too late."
+
+"This is cruel, and I'm bitter sorry to hear you say it," answered the
+young man, rising.  Then he went out and left his father alone.
+
+
+Elsewhere Phyllis Lintern had eagerly inquired of Cora as to the
+interview with the bellringer.
+
+The girls shared many secrets and were close friends.  They knew
+unconsciously that their brother was more to the mother than were they.
+Heathman adored Mrs. Lintern and never wearied of showing it; but for
+his sisters he cared little, and they felt no interest in him.
+
+Now Phyllis sympathised with Cora's ambitions and romances.
+
+"How was it?" she asked.  "I warrant you brought him to the scratch!"
+
+"'Tis all right," declared her sister.  "'Tis so good as done.  The
+word was on his tongue coming up-along in the dimpsy; but it stuck in
+his throat.  I know the signs well enough.  However, 'twill slip out
+pretty soon, I reckon.  He's a good sort, though fidgety, but he's
+gotten lovely eyes.  I'll wake him up and smarten him up,
+too--presently."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+When man builds a house on Dartmoor, he plants trees to protect it.
+Sometimes they perish; sometimes they endure to shield his dwelling
+from the riotous and seldom-sleeping winds.  Round the abode of
+Humphrey Baskerville stood beech and pine.  A solid old house lurked
+beneath, like a bear in its grove.  People likened its face to the
+master's--the grey, worn, tar-pitched roof to his hair, and the small
+windows on either side of the door to his eyes.  A few apple trees were
+in the garden, and currant and gooseberry bushes prospered indifferent
+well beneath them.  Rhubarb and a row of elders also flourished here.
+The latter were permitted to exist for their fruit, and of the berries
+Mrs. Susan Hacker, Humphrey's widowed housekeeper, made medicinal
+preparations supposed to possess value.
+
+Hawk House lay under a tor, and behind it the land towered to a stony
+waste that culminated in wild masses of piled granite, where the rowan
+grew and the vixen laid her cubs.  From this spot one might take a
+bird's-eye survey of Humphrey Baskerville's domain.  Gold lichens had
+fastened on the roof, and the folk conceited that since there was no
+more room in the old man's house for his money, it began to ooze out
+through the tiles.
+
+Humphrey himself now sat on a favourite stone aloft and surveyed his
+possessions and the scene around them.  It was his custom in fair
+weather to spend many hours sequestered upon the tor.  Dwarf oaks grew
+in the clitters, and he marked the passage of the time by their
+activity, by the coming of migrant birds, by the appearance of the
+infant foxes and by other natural signs and tokens.  Beneath Hawk House
+there subtended a great furze-clad space flanked with woods.  The Rut,
+as it was called, fell away to farms and fertile fields, and terminated
+in a glen through which the little Torry river passed upon her way to
+Plym.  Cann Wood fringed the neighbouring heights, and far away to the
+south Laira's lake extended and Plymouth appeared--faint, grey,
+glittering under a gauze of smoke.
+
+The tor itself was loved by hawks and stoats, crows and foxes.  Not a
+few people, familiar with the fact that Humphrey here took his solitary
+walks and kept long vigils, would affirm that he held a sort of
+converse with these predatory things and learned from them their winged
+and four-footed cunning.  His sympathy, indeed, was with fox and hawk
+rather than with hunter and hound.  He admitted it, but in no sense of
+companionship with craft did he interest himself in the wild creatures.
+He made no fatuous imputation of cruelty to the hawk, or cunning to the
+fox.  His bent of mind, none the less, inclined him to admire their
+singlehanded fight for life against long odds; and thus he, too, fell
+into fallacy; but his opinion took a practical turn and was not swiftly
+shattered, as such emotions are apt to be, when the pitied outlaw
+offers to the sentimental spectator a personal taste of his quality.
+
+If a hawk stooped above his chickens, he felt a sort of contempt for
+the screaming, flying fowls--let the hawk help itself if it could--and
+did not run for his gun.  Indeed, he had no gun.  As men said of this
+or that obstinate ancient that he had never travelled in a train, so
+they affirmed, concerning Humphrey Baskerville, that he had never in
+his life fired a gun.
+
+He sat and smoked a wooden pipe and reflected on the puzzles of his
+days.  He knew that he was held in little esteem, but that had never
+troubled him.  His inquiring spirit rose above his fellow-creatures;
+and he prided himself upon the fact, and did not see that just in this
+particular of a flight too lofty did he fail of the landmarks and sure
+ground he sought.
+
+A discontent, in substance very distinguished and noble, imbued his
+consciousness.  He was still seeking solace out of life and a way that
+should lead to rest.  But he could not find it.  He was in arms on the
+wrong road.  He missed the fundamental fact that from humanity and
+service arise not only the first duties of life, but also the highest
+rewards that life can offer.  He had little desire towards his
+fellow-creatures.  His mind appeared to magnify their deficiencies and
+weakness.  He was ungenerous in his interpretation of motives.  Mankind
+awoke his highest impatience.  He sneered at his own shortcomings
+daily, and had no more mercy for the manifold disabilities of human
+nature in general.  In the light of his religion and his learning, he
+conceived that man should be by many degrees a nobler and a wiser thing
+than he found him; and this conclusion awoke impatience and a fiery
+aversion.  He groped therefore in a blind alley, for as yet service of
+man had not brought its revelation to his spirit, or opened the portals
+of content.  He failed to perceive that the man who lives rationally
+for men, with all thereby involved in his duty to himself, is
+justifying his own existence to the limit of human capacity.
+
+Instead, he fulfilled obligations to his particular God with all his
+might, and supposed this rule of conduct embraced every necessity.  He
+despised his neighbour, but he despised himself also.  Thus he was
+logical, but such a rule of conduct left him lonely.  Hence it came
+about that darkness clothed him like a garment, and that his kind
+shunned him, and cared not to consider him.
+
+He sat silent and motionless.  His gift of stillness had often won some
+little intimate glimpse of Nature, and it did so now.  A fox went by
+him at close quarters.  It passed absorbed in its own affairs,
+incautious and without fear.  Then suddenly it saw him, braced its
+muscles and slipped away like a streak of cinnamon light through the
+stones.
+
+It made for the dwarf oaks beneath the head of the tor, and the watcher
+saw its red stern rise and its white-tipped brush jerk this way and
+that as it leapt from boulder to boulder.  A big and powerful fox--so
+Humphrey perceived; one that had doubtless stood before hounds in his
+time, and would again.
+
+Arrived at the confines of the wood, the brute hurried himself no more;
+but rested awhile and, with a sort of highwayman insolence, surveyed
+the object of alarm.  Then it disappeared, and the man smiled to
+himself and was glad that he had seen this particular neighbour.
+
+At the poultry-house far below, moved Mrs. Hacker.  Viewed from this
+elevation she presented nothing but a sun-bonnet and a great white
+square of apron.  She wore black, and her bust disappeared seen thus
+far away, though her capacious person might be noted at a mile.  Susan
+Hacker was florid, taciturn, and staunch to her master.  If she had a
+hero, it was Mr. Baskerville; and if she had an antipathy, Miss Eliza
+Gollop stood for that repugnance.
+
+Of Susan it might be said that she was honest and not honest.  In her
+case, though, she would have scorned to take a crust; she listened at
+doors.  To steal a spoon was beyond her power; but to steal information
+not intended for her ears did not outrage her moral sense.  Her rare
+triumphs were concerned with Humphrey's ragged wardrobe; and when she
+could prevail with him to buy a new suit of clothes, or burn an old
+one, she felt the day had justified itself.
+
+Now, through the clitters beneath him, there ascended a man, and
+Humphrey prepared to meet his nephew.  He had marked Rupert speak with
+Mrs. Hacker and seen her point to the tor.  It pleased the uncle that
+this youth should sometimes call unasked upon him, for he rated Rupert
+as the sanest and usefulest of his kindred.  In a sense Rupert pleased
+Humphrey better than his own son did.  A vague instinct to poetry and
+sentiment and things of abstract beauty, which belonged as an
+ingredient to Mark's character, found no echo in his father's breast.
+
+"I be come to eat my dinner along with you and fetch a message for
+Mark," began the young man.  "Mr. Masterman's meeting, to tell
+everybody about the play, will be held in the parish room early next
+month, and parson specially wants you and Mark to be there.  There's an
+idea of reviving some old-fangled customs.  I dare say 'tis a very good
+idea, and there will be plenty to lend a hand; but I doubt whether Mark
+will dress up and spout poetry for him--any more than I would."
+
+"He means to perform 'St. George' next Christmas and invite the
+countryside," said Mr. Baskerville.  "Well, one man's meat is another
+man's poison.  He's young and energetic.  He'll carry it through
+somehow with such material as lies about him.  The maidens will all
+want to be in it, no doubt."
+
+"I think 'tis foolery, uncle."
+
+"You think wrong, then.  Ban't always foolery to hark back to old ways.
+He's got his ideas for waking the people up.  You and me might say,
+'don't wake 'em up'; but 'tisn't our business.  It is his business, as
+a minister, to open their eyes and polish their senses.  So let him try
+with childish things first--not that he'll succeed, for he won't."
+
+"Then what's the good of trying?"
+
+"The man must earn his money."
+
+"Fancy coming to a dead-alive hole like this!  Why, even Jack Head from
+Trowlesworthy--him as works for Mr. Luscombe--even he laughs at Shaugh."
+
+"He's a rare Radical, is Head.  'Tis the likes of him the upper people
+don't want to teach to read or to think--for fear of pickling a rod for
+themselves.  But Head will be thinking.  He's made so.  I like him."
+
+"He laughed at me for one," said Rupert; "and though I laughed back, I
+smarted under his tongue.  He says for a young and strapping chap like
+me to stop at Cadworthy doing labourer's work for my father, be a
+poor-spirited and even a shameful thing.  He says I ought to blush to
+follow a plough or move muck, with the learning I've learnt.  Of
+course, 'tis a small, mean life, in a manner of speaking, for a man of
+energy as loves work like I do."
+
+Mr. Baskerville scratched his head with the mouthpiece of his pipe, and
+surveyed Rupert for some time without speaking.
+
+Then he rose, sniffed the air, and buttoned up his coat.
+
+"We'll walk a bit and I'll show you something," he said.
+
+They set out over Shaugh Moor and Rupert proceeded.
+
+"I do feel rather down on my luck, somehow--especially about Milly
+Luscombe.  It don't seem right or fair exactly--as if Providence wasn't
+on my side."
+
+"Don't bleat that nonsensical stuff," said his uncle.  "You're the sort
+that cry out to Providence if you fall into a bed of nettles--instead
+of getting up quick and looking for a dock-leaf.  Time to cry to
+Providence when you're in a fix you can't get out of single-handed.  If
+you begin at your time of life, and all about nothing too, belike
+'twill come to be like the cry of 'Wolf, wolf!' and then, when you
+really do get into trouble and holloa out, Providence won't heed."
+
+"Milly Luscombe's not a small thing, anyway.  How can I go on digging
+and delving while father withstands me and won't hear a word about her?"
+
+"She's too good for you."
+
+"I know it; but she don't think so, thank the Lord."
+
+"Your father's a man that moves in a groove.  Maybe you go safer that
+way; but not further.  The beaten track be his motto.  He married late
+in life, and it worked very well; so it follows to his narrow mind that
+late in life is the right and only time to marry."
+
+"I wish you'd tell him that you hold with Milly and think a lot of her.
+Father has a great opinion of your cleverness, I'm sure."
+
+"Not he!  'Tis your uncle Nathan that he sets store by.  Quite natural
+that he should.  He's a much cleverer man than me, and knows a lot more
+about human nature.  See how well all folk speak of him.  Can't you get
+him your side?  Your father would soon give ear to you if Uncle Nathan
+approved."
+
+"'Tis an idea.  And Uncle Nat certainly be kind always.  I might try
+and get him to do something.  He's very friendly with Mr. Saul
+Luscombe, Milly's uncle."
+
+"How does Luscombe view it?"
+
+"He'll be glad to have Milly off his hands."
+
+"More fool him then.  For there's no more understanding girl about."
+
+"So Jack Head says.  Ban't often he's got a good word for anybody; but
+he's told me, in so many words, that Milly be bang out of the common.
+He said it because his savage opinions never fluster her."
+
+They stood on Hawk Tor, and beneath them stretched, first, the carpet
+of the heath.  Then the ground fell into a valley, where water meadows
+spread about a stream, and beyond, by woods and homesteads, the earth
+ascended again to Shaugh Prior.  The village, perched upon the apex of
+the hill, twinkled like a jewel.  Glitter of whitewash and rosy-wash
+shone under the grey roofs; sunlight and foliage sparkled and
+intermingled round the church tower; light roamed upon the hills,
+revealing and obscuring detail in its passage.  To the far west, above
+deep valleys, the world appeared again; but now it had receded and
+faded and merged in tender blue to the horizon.  Earth spread before
+the men in three huge and simple planes: of heath and stone sloping
+from north to south; of hillside and village and hamlet perched upon
+their proper crest; of the dim, dreaming distance swept with the haze
+of summer and rising to sky-line.
+
+"That's not small--that's big," said Humphrey Baskerville.  "Plenty of
+room here for the best or worse that one boy can do."
+
+But Rupert doubted.
+
+"Think of the world out of sight, uncle.  This bit spread here be
+little more than a picture in its frame."
+
+"Granted; but the frame's wide enough to cage all that your wits will
+ever work.  You can run here and wear your fingers to the bone without
+bruising yourself against any bars.  Go down in the churchyard and take
+a look at the Baskerville slates--fifty of 'em if there's one: your
+grandfather, your great-uncle, the musicker, and all the rest.  And
+every man and woman of the lot lived and died, and suffered and
+sweated, and did good or evil within this picture-frame."
+
+"All save the richest--him that went to foreign parts and made a
+fortune and sent back tons of money to father and you and Uncle Nat."
+
+Humphrey laughed.
+
+"Thou hast me there!" he said.  "But don't be discontented.  Bide a bit
+and see how the wind blows.  I'm not against a man following the spirit
+that calls him; but wait and find out whether 'tis a true voice or only
+a lying echo.  What does Milly say?"
+
+"'Tis Milly have put the thought into me, for that matter.  She's
+terrible large in her opinions.  She holds that father haven't got no
+right to refuse to let us be tokened.  She'd come and talk to him, if
+I'd let her.  A regular fear-nothing, she is."
+
+"What would she have you do?"
+
+"Gird up and be off.  She comes of a very wandering family, and, of
+course, one must allow for that.  I've nought to say against it.  But
+they can't bide in one spot long.  Something calls 'em to be roaming."
+
+"The tribe of Esau."
+
+They talked on, and Rupert found himself the better for some caustic
+but sane counsel.
+
+"'Tis no good asking impossibilities from you, and I'm the last to do
+it," said Humphrey.  "There are some things we can't escape from, and
+our characters are one of them.  There's no more sense in trying to run
+from your character than in trying to run from your shadow.  Too often
+your character is your shadow, come to think on it; and cruel black at
+that.  But don't be impatient.  Wait and watch yourself as well as
+other people.  If these thoughts have been put in your head by the
+girl, they may not be natural to you, and they may not be digested by
+you.  See how your own character takes 'em.  I'm not against courting,
+mind, nor against early marriages; and if this woman be made of the
+stuff to mix well and close with your own character, then marry her and
+defy the devil and all his angels to harm you.  To take such a woman is
+the best day's work that even the hardest working man can do in this
+world.  But meantime don't whine, but go ahead and gather wisdom and
+learn a little about the things that happen outside the
+picture-frame--as I do."
+
+They turned presently and went back to dinner.
+
+Rupert praised his uncle, and declared that life looked the easier for
+his advice.
+
+"'Tis no good being called 'The Hawk' if you can't sharpen your wits as
+well as your claws," said the old man.  "Yes--you're astonished--but I
+know what they call me well enough."
+
+"I knocked a chap down last Sunday on Cadworthy bridge for saying it,"
+declared Rupert.
+
+"Very thoughtful and very proper to stand up for your family; but I'm
+not hurt.  Maybe there's truth in it.  I've no quarrel with the
+hawks--or the herons either--for all they do eat the trout.  By all
+accounts there was birds to eat trout afore there was men to eat 'em.
+We humans have invented a saying that possession is nine points of the
+law; but we never thought much of that when it comed to knocking our
+weaker neighbours on the head--whether they be birds or men."
+
+"You've made me a lot more contented with the outlook, anyway."
+
+"I'm glad to hear it.  Content's the one thing I'd wish you--and wish
+myself.  I can't see the way very clear yet.  Let me know if ever you
+come by it."
+
+"You!  Why, you'm the most contented of any of us."
+
+"Come and eat, and don't talk of what you know nought," said Mr.
+Baskerville.
+
+They went through the back yard of the homestead presently, where a
+hot, distinctive odour of pigs saturated the air.  As they passed by,
+some young, very dirty, pink porkers grunted with fat, amiable voices
+and cuddled to their lean mother, where she lay in a lair of ordure.
+
+"That's content," explained Humphrey; "it belongs to brainless things,
+and only to them.  I haven't found it among men and women yet, and I
+never count to.  Rainbow gold in this world.  Yet, don't mistake me,
+I'm seeking after it still."
+
+"Why seek for it, if there's no such thing, uncle?"
+
+"Well may you ask that.  But the answer's easy.  Because 'tis part of
+my character to seek for it, Rupert.  Character be stronger than
+reason's self, if you can understand that.  I seek because I'm driven."
+
+"You might find it after all, uncle.  There must be such a thing--else
+there'd be no word for it."
+
+The older sighed.
+
+"A young and hopeful fashion of thought," he said.  "But you're out
+there.  Men have made up words for many a fine, fancied thing their
+hearts long for; but the word is all--stillborn out of poor human hope."
+
+He brooded deep into his own soul upon this thought and spoke little
+more that day.  But Mark was waiting for his dinner when they returned,
+and he and Rupert found themes in common to occupy them through the
+meal.
+
+The great project of the new vicar chiefly supplied conversation.
+Rupert felt indifferent, but Mark was much interested.
+
+"I'm very willing to lend a hand all I can, and I expect the parish
+will support it," he said.  "But as for play-acting myself, and taking
+a part, I wouldn't for all the world.  It beats me how anybody can get
+up on a platform and speak a speech afore his fellow-creatures
+assembled."
+
+"The girls will like it," foretold Rupert.
+
+"Cora Lintern is to play a part," declared Mark; "and no doubt she'll
+do it amazing well."
+
+Rupert was up in arms at once.
+
+"I should think they'll ask Milly Luscombe too.  She's got more wits
+than any of 'em."
+
+"She may have as much as Cora, but not more, I can assure you of that,"
+answered Mark firmly.
+
+He rarely contradicted a statement or opposed an assertion; but upon
+this great subject his courage was colossal.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+Mr. Masterman and his sister made more friends than enemies.  The man's
+good-nature and energy attracted his parishioners; while Miss
+Masterman, though not genial, was sincere.  A certain number followed
+the party of Mr. Gollop and Eliza, yet, as time passed, it diminished.
+The surplices arrived; the girls were turned out of the choir; but the
+heavens did not fall.  Even the Nonconformists of Shaugh Prior regarded
+the young vicar with friendliness, and when he called a meeting at the
+parish room, Mr. Nathan Baskerville and others who stood for dissent,
+attended it in an amiable spirit.
+
+Rumours as to the nature of the proposition had leaked out, and they
+were vague; but a very general interest had been excited, and when the
+evening came the vicar, his churchwardens, and friends, found a
+considerable company assembled.
+
+There were present Vivian and Nathan Baskerville, with most of the
+former's family.  Mrs. Lintern and her two daughters from Undershaugh
+also came; while Heathman Lintern, Ned Baskerville, and other young men
+stood in a group at the rear of the company.  From Trowlesworthy
+arrived the warrener, Saul Luscombe, his niece, Milly, and his man,
+Jack Head.  People looked uneasy at sight of the last, for he was a
+revolutionary and firebrand.  The folk suspected that he held
+socialistic views, and were certain that he worked harm on the morals
+of younger people.  Susan Hacker, at her master's wish, attended the
+meeting and sat impassive among friends.  Thomas Gollop and Joe Voysey,
+the vicarage gardener, sat together; but Miss Gollop was not present,
+because her services were occupied with the newly-born.
+
+A buzz and babel filled the chamber and the heat increased.  Jack Head
+opened a window.  Whereupon Mr. Gollop rose and shut it again.  The
+action typified that eternal battle of principle which waged between
+them.  But Vivian Baskerville was on the side of fresh air.
+
+"Let be!" he shouted.  "Us don't want to be roasted alive, Thomas!"
+
+So the window was opened once more, and Head triumphed.
+
+Dennis Masterman swiftly explained his desire and invited the parish to
+support him in reviving an ancient and obsolete ceremonial.
+
+"The oldest men among you must remember the days of the Christmas
+mummers," he said.  "I've heard all about them from eye-witnesses, and
+it strikes me that to get up the famous play of 'St. George,' with the
+quaint old-world dialogue, would give us all something to do this
+winter, and be very interesting and instructive, and capital fun.
+There are plenty among you who could act the parts splendidly, and as
+the original version is rather short and barren, I should have some
+choruses written in, and go through it and polish it up, and perhaps
+even add a character or two.  In the old days it was all done by the
+lads, but why not have some lasses in it as well?  However, these are
+minor points to be decided later.  Would you like the play? that's the
+first question.  It is a revival of an ancient custom.  It will
+interest a great many people outside our parish; and if it is to be
+done at all, it must be done really well.  Probably some will be for it
+and some against.  For my part, I only want to please the greater
+number.  Those who are for it had better elect a spokesman, and let him
+say a word first; then we'll hear those who are against."
+
+The people listened quietly; then they bent this way and that, and
+discussed the suggestion.  Some rose and approached Vivian Baskerville,
+where he sat beside his brother.  After some minutes of buzzing
+conversation, during which Vivian shook his head vigorously, and Nathan
+as vigorously nodded, the latter rose with reluctance, and the folk
+stamped their feet.
+
+"'Tis only because of my brother's modest nature that I get up," he
+explained.  "As a Church of England man and a leader among us, they
+very properly wanted for him to speak.  But he won't do it, and no more
+will young Farmer Waite, and no more will Mr. Luscombe of
+Trowlesworthy; so I'll voice 'em to the best of my power.  Though I'm
+of t'other branch of the Christian Church, yet my friends will bear me
+out that I've nothing but kind feeling and regard for all of them, and
+in such a pleasant matter as this I shall do all in my power to help
+your reverence, as we all shall.  For I do think there's none but will
+make the mummers welcome again, and lend a hand to lift the fun into a
+great success.  Me and my brother and Luscombe, and Waite and Gollop,
+and Joe Voysey, and a good few more, can well remember the old mumming
+days; and we'll all do our best to rub up our memories.  So what we all
+say is, 'Go ahead, Mr. Masterman, and good luck to it!'"
+
+Applause greeted Nathan.  The folk were filled with admiration at his
+ready turn of speech.  He sat down again between Mrs. Lintern and Cora.
+Everybody clapped their hands.
+
+Then came a hiss from the corner where Jack Head stood.
+
+"A dissentient voice," declared the clergyman.  "Who is that?"
+
+"My name is Jack Head, and I be gwaine to offer objections," said the
+man stoutly.
+
+"Better save your wind then!" snapped Mr. Gollop.  "You be one against
+the meeting."
+
+Head was a middle-aged, narrow-browed, and underhung individual of an
+iron-grey colour.  His body was long and thin; his shoulders were high;
+his expression aggressive, yet humorous.  He had swift wits and a
+narrow understanding.  He was observant and impressed with the misery
+of the world; but he possessed no philosophical formulas to balance his
+observation or counsel patience before the welter of life.  He was
+honest, but scarce knew the meaning of amenity.
+
+"One or not won't shut my mouth," he said.  "I'm a member of the parish
+so much as you, though I don't bleat a lot of wild nonsense come every
+seventh day, and I say that to spend good time and waste good money
+this way be a disgrace, and a going back instead of going forward.
+What for do we want to stir up a lot of silly dead foolishness that our
+grandfathers invented?  Ban't there nothing better to do with ourselves
+and our wits than dress up like a ship-load of monkeys and go
+play-acting?  We might so well start to wassail the apple-trees and put
+mourning on the bee-butts when a man dies.  I'm against it, and I
+propose instead that Mr. Masterman looks round him and sees what a
+miserable Jakes of a mess his parish be in, and spends his time trying
+to get the landlords to----"
+
+"Order!  Order!  Withdraw that!" cried out Mr. Gollop furiously.  "How
+dare this infidel man up and say the parish be in a Jakes of a mess?
+Where's Ben North?"
+
+"I'm here, Thomas," said a policeman, who stood at the door.
+
+"You'm a silly old mumphead," replied Jack.  "To hear you about this
+parish--God's truth!  I'll tell you this, my brave hero.  When the
+devil was showing the Lord the kingdoms of the earth and the glory of
+'em, he kept his thumb on Shaugh Prior, so as none should see what a
+dung-heap of a place it was."
+
+"Order!  Order!" cried Miss Masterman shrilly, and Mr. Gollop grew
+livid.
+
+"I appeal to the chair!  I appeal to the nation!" he gasped.  Then he
+shook his fist at Jack.
+
+"There's no chair--not yet," explained Dennis.  "As soon as we decide,
+I'll take the chair, and we'll appoint a committee to go into the
+matter and arrange the parts, and so on.  The first thing is, are we
+agreed?"
+
+One loud shout attested to the sense of the meeting.
+
+"Then, Mr. Head, you're in a minority of one, and I hope we may yet
+convince you that this innocent revival is not a bad thing," said
+Dennis.  "And further than that, you mustn't run down Shaugh Prior in
+this company.  We've got a cheerful conceit of ourselves, and why not?
+Don't think I'm dead to the dark side of human life, and the sorrows
+and sufferings of the poor.  I hope you'll all very soon find that I'm
+not that sort, or my sister either.  And the devil himself can't hide
+Shaugh Prior from the Lord and Saviour of us all, Mr. Head--have no
+fear of that."
+
+"Sit down, Jack, and say you'm sorry," cried Mr. Luscombe.
+
+"Not me," replied Head.  "I've stated my views at a free meeting, and
+I'm on the losing side, like men of my opinions always be where parsons
+have a voice.  But me and my friends will be up top presently."
+
+"Turn him out, Ben North!" shouted Mr. Gollop; but Ben North refused.
+Indeed, he was of Jack's party.
+
+"He've done nought but say his say, and I shan't turn him out," the
+policeman answered.  "There's nobody in the chair yet, and therefore
+there's none here with power to command the Law to move."
+
+A committee was swiftly formed.  It consisted of the clergyman and
+certain parishioners.  Nathan joined it for his family; Mr. Luscombe
+also joined, and Dennis promised that certain local antiquaries and the
+lord of the manor would assist the enterprise.
+
+"While we are here," he said, "we may as well get the thing well
+advanced and decide about the characters.  All those interested are
+here, so why not let me read through the old play as it stands?  Then
+we'll settle the parts, and each can copy his or her part in turn."
+
+"There's nothing like being fore-handed," admitted Nathan.  "Let's have
+it by all means.  We shall want young and old to play, if my memory
+serves me."
+
+"We shall, and a good company to sing the songs that I hope to add.  My
+sister, our organist, will undertake the music."
+
+"And right well she'll do it, without a doubt," declared Nathan.  "On
+all hands 'tis admitted how the church music has mended a lot since she
+took it up."
+
+Mr. Masterman then read a version of the old play, and its ingenuous
+humour woke laughter.
+
+"Now," said the vicar when his recital was at an end, "I'll ask those
+among us who will volunteer to act--ladies and gentlemen--to come
+forward.  Especially I appeal to the ladies.  They'll have to say very
+little."
+
+"Only to look nice, and I'm sure that won't cost 'em an effort, for
+they can't help it," declared Nathan.
+
+None immediately rose.  Then Ned Baskerville strolled down the room.
+
+"Best-looking young man in Shaugh," cried an anonymous voice.
+
+"And the laziest!" answered another unknown.
+
+There was a laugh and Ned turned ruddy.
+
+"Thou'lt never take trouble enough to learn thy part, Ned!" cried
+Heathman Lintern.
+
+"Play Turkish knight, my son," said his father.  "Then thou can'st be
+knocked on the head and die comfortable without more trouble."
+
+Others followed Ned, and Mr. Masterman called for Mark.
+
+"You'll not desert us, Mark?  I shall want your help, I know."
+
+"And glad to give it," answered the young man.  He grew very hot and
+nervous to find himself named.  His voice broke, he coughed and cut a
+poor figure.  Somebody patted him on the back.
+
+"Don't be frighted, Mark," said Vivian Baskerville; "his reverence only
+wants for you to do what you can.  He wouldn't ask impossibilities."
+
+Mrs. Baskerville compared her handsome son to stammering Mark and felt
+satisfied.  Cora Lintern also contrasted the young men, and in her
+bosom was anything but satisfaction.
+
+"You needn't act, but you must help in many ways.  You're so well up in
+the old lore--all about our legends and customs," explained the
+clergyman.  "We count on you.  And now we want some of the older men
+among you, and when we've settled them we must come to the ladies.
+We're getting on splendidly.  Now--come--you set a good example,
+Thomas."
+
+"Me!" cried Mr. Gollop.  "Me to play-act!  Whoever heard the like?"
+
+"You must play, Thomas," urged Vivian Baskerville of Cadworthy.  "Such
+a voice can't be lost.  What a King of Egypt the man will make!"
+
+"I'll do a part if you will, but not else," returned Gollop, and the
+Baskerville family lifted a laugh at their father's expense.
+
+"For that matter I've took the stage often enough," admitted Vivian;
+"but 'twas to work, not to talk.  All the same, if his reverence would
+like for me to play a part, why, I'm ready and willing, so long as
+there isn't much to say to it."
+
+"Hurrah for Mr. Baskerville!" shouted several present.
+
+"And Mr. Nathan must play, too," declared Joe Voysey.  "No revel would
+be complete without him."
+
+"If you'll listen I'll tell you what I think," said the clergyman.
+"I've considered your parts during the last five minutes, and they go
+like this in my mind.  Let's take them in order:--
+
+"St. George, Mr. Ned Baskerville.  Will you do St. George, Ned?"
+
+"Yes, if you can't find a better," said the young man.
+
+"Good!  Now the Turkish knight comes next.  He must be young and a bit
+of a fighter.  Will you be Turkish knight, Mr. Waite?"
+
+He addressed a young, good-looking, dark man, who farmed land in the
+parish, and dwelt a few miles off.
+
+Mr. Waite laughed and nodded.
+
+"Right--I'll try."
+
+"Well done!  Now"--Mr. Masterman smiled and looked at Jack Head--"will
+Mr. Head play the Bear--to oblige us all?"
+
+Everybody laughed, including Jack himself.
+
+"The very living man for Bear!" cried Mr. Luscombe.  "I command you,
+Jack, to be Bear!"
+
+"You ain't got much to do but growl and fight, Jack, and you're a oner
+at both," said Heathman.
+
+"Well, I've said my say," returned Mr. Head, "and I was in a minority.
+But since this parish wants for me to be Bear, I'll Bear it out so well
+as I can; and if I give St. George a bit of a hug afore he bowls me
+over, he mustn't mind that."
+
+"Capital!  Thank you, Jack Head.  Now, who'll be Father Christmas?  I
+vote for Mr. Nathan Baskerville."
+
+Applause greeted the suggestion, but Miss Masterman bent over from her
+seat and whispered to her brother.  He shook his head, however, and
+answered under his breath.
+
+"It doesn't matter a button about his being a dissenter.  So much the
+better.  Let's draw them in all we can."
+
+"You ought to choose the church people first."
+
+"It's done now, anyway," he replied.  "Everybody likes the man.  We
+must have him in it, or half the folk won't come."
+
+"The King of Egypt is next," said Nathan, after he had been duly
+elected to Father Christmas.  "I say Thomas Gollop here for the part."
+
+"I don't play nought," answered Thomas firmly, "unless Vivian
+Baskerville do.  He's promised."
+
+"I'll be Giant, then, and say 'Fee-fo-fum!" answered the farmer.
+"'Twill be a terrible come-along-of-it for Ned here, and I warn him
+that if he don't fight properly valiant, I won't die."
+
+"The very man--the only man for Giant," declared Dennis Masterman.  "So
+that's settled.  Now, who's for Doctor?  That's a very important part.
+I suppose your father wouldn't do it, Mark?  He's just the wise-looking
+face for a doctor."
+
+"My brother!" cried Vivian.  "Good Lord!  he'd so soon stand on his
+head in the market-place as lend a hand in a bit of nonsense like this.
+Ask Luscombe here.  Will you be Doctor, Saul?"
+
+But Mr. Luscombe refused.
+
+"Not in my line.  Here's Joe Voysey--he's doctored a lot of things in
+his time--haven't you, Joe?"
+
+"Will you be Doctor, Joe?" asked Mr. Masterman.
+
+But Joe refused.
+
+"Too much to say," he answered.  "I might larn it with a bit of sweat,
+but I should never call it home when the time came."
+
+"Be the French Eagle, Joe," suggested Mark Baskerville.  "You've got
+but little to say, and St. George soon settles you."
+
+"And the very living nose for it, Joe," urged Mr. Gollop.
+
+"Very well, if the meeting is for it, I'll be Eagle," assented Mr.
+Voysey.
+
+The part of Doctor remained unfilled for the present.
+
+"Now there's the fair Princess Sabra and Mother Dorothy," explained the
+vicar.  "Princess Sabra, the King of Egypt's daughter, will be a
+novelty, for she didn't come into the old play in person.  She doesn't
+say anything, but she must be there."
+
+"Miss Lintern for Princess Sabra!" said Mark.
+
+Everybody laughed, and the young man came in for some chaff; but Dennis
+approved, and Mrs. Lintern nodded and smiled.  Cora blushed and Nathan
+patted Mark on the back.
+
+"A good idea, and we're all for it," he said.
+
+To Cora, as the belle of the village, belonged the part by right.  She
+was surprised and gratified at this sudden access of importance.
+
+Then the vicar prepared to close his meeting.
+
+"For Mother Dorothy we want a lady of mature years and experience.  The
+part is often played by a man, but I would sooner a lady played it, if
+we can persuade one to do so," he said.
+
+"Mrs. Hacker!  Mrs. Hacker!" shouted a mischievous young man at the
+back of the hall.
+
+"Never," said Susan Hacker calmly.  "Not that I'd mind; but whatever
+would my master say?"
+
+"Let my sister play the part," suggested Thomas.  "Eliza Gollop fears
+nought on two legs.  She'll go bravely through with it."
+
+Mr. Nathan's heart sank, but he could not object.
+
+The company was divided.  Then, to the surprise of not a few, Mrs.
+Hacker spoke again.  The hated name had dispelled her doubts.
+
+"I'll do it, and chance master," she said.  "Yes, there's no false
+shame in me, I believe.  I'll do it rather than----"
+
+"You're made for the part, ma'am," declared Mr. Nathan, much relieved.
+"And very fine you'll look.  You've got to kiss Father Christmas at the
+end of the play, though.  I hope you don't mind that."
+
+"That's why she's going to act the part!" shouted Heathman, and
+laughter drowned Mrs. Hacker's reply.
+
+In good spirits the company broke up, and the young folk went away
+excited, the old people interested and amused.
+
+Merriment sounded on the grey July night; many women chattered about
+the play till long after their usual hour for sleep; and plenty of
+coarse jests as to the promised entertainment were uttered at the bar
+of 'The White Thorn' presently.
+
+As for the vicar and his sister, they felt that they had achieved a
+triumph.  Two shadows alone darkened the outlook in Miss Masterman's
+eyes.  She objected to the Nonconformist element as undesirable or
+unnecessary; and she did not like the introduction of Queen Sabra.
+
+"That showy girl is quite conceited enough already," she said.
+
+But her brother was young and warm-hearted.
+
+"She's lovely, though," he said.  "By Jove! the play will be worth
+doing, if only to see her got up like a princess!"
+
+"Don't be silly, Dennis," answered his sister.  "She's a rude wretch,
+and the Linterns are the most independent people in the parish."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+At high summer two men and two maids kept public holiday and wove
+romance under the great crown of Pen Beacon.  From this border height
+the South Hams spread in a mighty vision of rounded hills and plains;
+whole forests were reduced to squat, green cushions laid upon the broad
+earth's bosom; and amid them glimmered wedges and squares of ripening
+corn, shone root crops, smiled water meadows, and spread the emerald
+faces of shorn hayfields.
+
+It was a day of lowering clouds and illumination breaking through them.
+Fans of light fell between the piled-up cumuli, and the earth was
+mottled with immense, alternate patches of shadow and sunshine.  Thick
+and visible strata of air hung heavy between earth and sky at this
+early hour.  They presaged doubt, and comprehended a condition that
+might presently diffuse and lift into unclouded glory of August light,
+or darken to thunderstorm.  Southerly the nakedness of Hanger Down and
+the crags of Eastern and Western Beacons towered; while to the east
+were Quickbeam Hill, Three Barrows, and the featureless expanses of
+Stall Moor.  Northerly towered Penshiel, and the waste spread beyond it
+in long leagues, whose planes were flattened out by distance and
+distinguished against each other by sleeping darkness and waking light.
+
+A fuliginous heaviness, that stained air at earth's surface, persisted
+even on this lofty ground, and the highest passages of aerial radiance
+were not about the sun, but far beneath it upon the horizon.
+
+Rupert Baskerville trudged doubtfully forward, sniffing the air and
+watching the sky, while beside him came Milly Luscombe; and a quarter
+of a mile behind them walked Mark and Cora Lintern.  The men had
+arranged to spend their holiday up aloft, and Milly was well pleased;
+but Cora held the expedition vain save for what it should accomplish.
+To dawdle in the Moor when she might have been at a holiday revel was
+not her idea of pleasure; but as soon as Mark issued his invitation she
+guessed that he did so with an object, and promised to join him.
+
+As yet the definite word had not passed his lips, though it had hovered
+there; but to-day Miss Lintern was resolved to return from Pen Beacon
+betrothed.  As for Mark, his hope chimed with her intention.  Cora was
+always gracious and free of her time, while he played the devout lover
+and sincerely held her above him every way.  Only the week before
+Heathman, obviously inspired to do so, had asked him why he kept off,
+and declared that it would better become him to speak.  And now,
+feeling that the meal presently to be taken would be of a more joyous
+character after than before the deed, he stopped Cora while yet a mile
+remained to trudge before they should reach the top of the tor.
+
+"Rest a bit," he said.  "Let Rupert and Milly go forward.  They don't
+want us, and we shall all meet in the old roundy-poundies up over,
+where we're going to eat our dinner."
+
+"Looks as if 'twas offering for bad weather," she answered, lifting her
+eyes to the sky.  "I'm glad I didn't put on my new muslin."
+
+She sat on a stone and felt that he was now going to ask her to marry
+him.  She was not enthusiastic about him at the bottom of her heart;
+but she knew that he would be rich and a good match for a girl in her
+position.  She was prone to exaggerate her beauty, and had hoped better
+things from it than Mark Baskerville; but certain minor romances with
+more important men had come to nothing.  She was practical and made
+herself see the bright side of the contract.  He was humble and she
+could influence him as she pleased.  He worshipped her and would
+doubtless continue to do so.
+
+Once his wife she proposed to waken in him a better conceit of himself
+and, when his father died, she would be able to 'blossom out,' as she
+put it to her sister, and hold her head high in the land.  There were
+prospects.  Nathan Baskerville was rich also, and he was childless.  He
+liked Mark well, and on one occasion, when she came into the farm
+kitchen at Undershaugh suddenly, she overheard Nathan say to her
+mother, "No objection--none at all--a capital match for her."
+
+Mark put down the basket that carried their meal and took a seat beside
+Cora.
+
+"'Tisn't going to rain," he said.  "I always know by my head if there's
+thunder in the elements.  It gets a sort of heavy, aching feeling.
+Look yonder, the clouds are levelling off above the Moor so true as if
+they'd been planed.  That's the wind's work.  Why, there's enough blue
+showing to make you a new dress a'ready, Cora."
+
+"I'd love a dress of such blue as that.  Blue's my colour," she said.
+
+"Yes, it is--though you look lovely enough in any colour."
+
+"I like to please you, Mark."
+
+"Oh, Cora, and don't you please me?  Little you know--little you know.
+I've had it on my tongue a thousand times--yet it seems too bold--from
+such as me to you.  Why, there's none you mightn't look to; and if
+you'd come of a higher havage, you'd have been among the loveliest
+ladies in the land.  And so you are now, for that matter--only you're
+hid away in this savage old place--like a beautiful pearl under the
+wild sea."
+
+This had long been Cora's own opinion.  She smiled and touched the hair
+on her hot forehead.
+
+"If there comes on a fog, I shall go out of curl in a minute," she
+said.  Then, seeing that this prophecy silenced him, she spoke again.
+
+"I love to hear you tell these kind things, Mark.  I'd sooner please
+you than any man living.  Perhaps 'tis over-bold in me to say so; but
+I'm telling nought but truth."
+
+"Truth ban't often so beautiful as that," he said slowly.  "And 'tis
+like your brave heart to say it out; and here's truth for your truth,
+Cora.  If you care to hear me say I think well of you, then I care to
+hear you speak well of me; and more: nobody else's good word is better
+than wind in the trees against your slightest whisper.  So that I
+please you, I care nothing for all the world; and if you'll let me,
+I'll live for you and die for you.  For that matter I've lived for only
+you these many days, and if you'll marry me--there--'tis out.  I'm a
+vain chap even to dare to say it; but 'tis you have made me so--'tis
+your kind words and thoughts for me--little thoughts that peep out and
+dear little kind things done by you and forgotten by you; but never by
+me, Cora.  Can you do it?  Can you sink down to me, or is it too much
+of a drop?  Others have lowered themselves for love and never regretted
+it.  'Tis a fall for such a bright, lovely star as you; but my love's
+ready to catch you, so you shan't hurt yourself.  I--I----"
+
+He broke off and she seemed really moved.  She put her hand on his two,
+which were knotted together; and then she looked love into his
+straining eyes and nodded.
+
+His hands opened and seized hers and squeezed them till she drew in her
+breath.  Then he put his arms round her and kissed her.
+
+"Don't move, for God's sake!" he said.  "D'you know what you've done?"
+
+"Given myself to a dear good chap," she answered.
+
+In her heart she was thanking heaven that she had not worn the new
+muslin dress.
+
+"Weather or no weather, he'd have creased it and mangled it all over
+and ruined it for ever," she thought.
+
+They proceeded presently, but made no haste to overtake their
+companions.  Their talk was of the future and marriage.  He pressed for
+an early union; she was in no hurry.
+
+"You must learn a bit more about me first," she told him.  "Maybe I'm
+not half as nice as you think.  And there's your father.  I'm terrible
+frightened of him."
+
+"You need not be, Cora.  He's not against early marriage.  You must
+come and see him pretty soon.  He'll be right glad for my sake, though
+he'll be sure to tell me I've had better luck than I deserve."
+
+She considered awhile without speaking.
+
+"I'm afraid I shan't bring you much money," she said.
+
+"What's money?  That's the least thing.  I shall have plenty enough, no
+doubt."
+
+"What will your father do?  Then there's your uncle, Mr. Nathan.  He's
+terrible rich, by all accounts, and he thinks very well of you."
+
+"I shall be all right.  But I'm a lazy man--too lazy.  I shall turn my
+hand to something steady when we're married."
+
+"Such a dreamer you are.  Not but what, with all your great cleverness,
+you ban't worth all the young men put together for brains."
+
+"I'm going to set to.  My father's often at me about wasting my life.
+But, though he'd scorn the word, he's a bit of a dreamer too--in his
+way.  You'd never guess it; but he spends many long hours all alone,
+brooding about things.  And he's a very sharp-eyed, clever man.  He
+marks the seasons by the things that happen out of doors.  He'll come
+down off our tor that cheerful sometimes, you wouldn't believe 'twas
+him.  'Curlew's back on the Moor,' he'll say one day; then another day,
+'Oaks are budding'; then again, 'First frost to-night,' or 'Thunder's
+coming.'  His bark is worse than his bite, really."
+
+"'Tis his terrible eyes I fear.  They look through you.  He makes me
+feel small, and I always hate anybody that does that."
+
+"You mustn't hate him.  Too many do already.  But 'twould be better to
+feel sorry for him.  He's often a very unhappy old man.  I feel it, but
+I can't see the reason, and he says nothing."
+
+She pouted.
+
+"I wish I hadn't got to see him.  Why, his own brother--your Uncle
+Nathan--even he can't hit it off with him.  And I'm sure there must be
+something wrong with a man that can't get on with Mr. Nathan.
+Everybody is fond of him; but I've often heard him say----"
+
+"Leave it," interrupted Mark.  "I know all that, Cora.  'Tis just one
+of those puzzles that happen.  'Tis no good fretting about anybody
+else: what you've got to do is to make my father love you.  And you've
+only got to be yourself and he must love you."
+
+"Of course I'll do my best."
+
+"Give me just one more lovely kiss, before we get over the hill-top and
+come in sight of them.  We're to meet at the 'old men's' camp."
+
+She kissed him and then silence fell between them.  It lasted a long
+while until he broke it.
+
+"Don't fancy because I'm so still that I'm not bursting with joy," he
+said.  "But when I think of what's happened to me this minute, I feel
+'tis too big for words.  The thoughts in me can't be spoken, Cora.
+They are too large to cram into little pitiful speeches."
+
+"I'm getting hungry; and there's Milly waving," she answered.
+
+"Milly's hungry too, belike."
+
+Eastward, under Pen Beacon, lay an ancient lodge of the neolithic
+people.  The circles of scattered granite shone grey, set in foliage
+and fruit of the bilberry, with lichens on the stone and mosses woven
+into the grass about them.  A semicircle of hills extended beyond and
+formed a mighty theatre where dawn and storm played their parts, where
+falling night was pictured largely and moonshine slept upon lonely
+heights and valleys.  In the glen beneath spread Dendles Wood, with
+fringes of larch and pine hiding the River Yealm and spreading a
+verdant medley of deep summer green in the lap of the grey hills.  Gold
+autumn furzes flashed along the waste, and the pink ling broke into her
+first tremble of colourless light that precedes the blush of fulness.
+
+The party of four sat in a hut circle and spoke little while they ate
+and drank.  Rupert, unknown to the rest, and much to his own
+inconvenience, had dragged up six stone bottles of ginger-beer hidden
+under his coat.  These he produced and was much applauded.  A spring
+broke at hand, and the bottles were sunk therein to cool them.
+
+They talked together after a very practical and businesslike fashion.
+Milly and Rupert were definitely engaged in their own opinion, and now
+when Mark, who could not keep in the stupendous event of the moment,
+announced it, they congratulated the newly engaged couple with the
+wisdom and experience of those who had long entered that state.
+
+"'Tis a devilish unrestful condition, I can promise you," said Rupert,
+"and the man always finds it so if the girl don't.  Hanging on is just
+hell--especially in my case, where I can't get father to see with my
+eyes.  But, thank God, Milly's jonic.  She won't change."
+
+"No," said Milly, "I shan't change.  'Tis you have got to change.  I
+respect your father very much, like the rest of the world, but because
+he didn't marry till he was turned forty-five, that's no reason why you
+should wait twenty years for it.  Anyway, if you must, so will I--only
+I shall be a thought elderly for the business by that time.  However,
+it rests with you."
+
+"I'm going--that's what she means," explained Rupert.  "Jack Head and
+me have had a talk, and he's thrown a lot of light on things in
+general.  I can't be bound hand and foot to my father like this; and if
+he won't meet me, I must take things into my own hands and leave home."
+
+Mark was staggered at the enormity of such a plan.
+
+"Don't do anything in a hurry and without due thought."
+
+"Very well for you to talk," said Milly.  "You do nought but ring the
+bells on Sundays, and play at work the rest of the week.  Mr. Humphrey
+won't stand in your way.  I suppose you could be married afore
+Christmas, if you pleased."
+
+She sighed at the glorious possibility.
+
+"I hope we shall be; but Cora's in no hurry, I'm afraid."
+
+"And when I've got work," continued Rupert, "then I shall just look
+round and take a house and marry; and why not?"
+
+"Your father will never let you go.  It isn't to be thought upon,"
+declared Mark.
+
+"Then he must be reasonable.  He appears to forget I'm nearly
+twenty-four," answered his cousin.
+
+Conversation ranged over their problems and their hopes.  Then Rupert
+touched another matrimonial disappointment.
+
+"It looks as if we were not to be fortunate in love," he said.
+"There's Ned terrible down on his luck.  He's offered marriage
+again--to Farmer Chave's second daughter; and 'twas as good as done;
+but Mr. Chave wouldn't hear of it, and he's talked the girl round and
+Ned's got chucked."
+
+"Serve him right," said Milly.  "He jilted two girls.  'Twill do him
+good to smart a bit himself."
+
+"The Chaves are a lot too high for us," asserted Mark.  "He's a very
+well-born and rich man, and his father was a Justice of the Peace, and
+known in London.  He only farms to amuse himself."
+
+"'Twas Ned's face, I reckon," said Cora.  "They Chave women are both
+terrible stuck up.  Makes me sick to see 'em in church all in their
+town-made clothes.  But fine feathers won't make fine birds of them.
+They'm both flat as a plate, and a lot older than they pretend.  Ned is
+well out of it, I reckon."
+
+"He don't think so, however," replied Rupert.  "I've never known him
+take any of his affairs to heart like this one.  Moped and gallied he
+is, and creeps about with a face as long as a fiddle; and off his food
+too."
+
+"Poor chap," said Cora feelingly.
+
+"Even talks of ending it and making away with himself.  Terrible hard
+hit, I do believe."
+
+"Your mother must be in a bad way about him," said Milly.
+
+"She is.  Why, he took mother down to the river last Sunday and showed
+her a big hole there, where Plym comes over the rocks and the waters
+all a-boil and twelve feet deep.  'That's where you'll find me,
+mother,' he says.  And she, poor soul, was frightened out of her wits.
+And father's worried too, for Ned can't go wrong with him.  Ned may
+always do what he likes, though I may not."
+
+Cora declared her sympathy, but Mark did not take the incident as grave.
+
+"You needn't fear," he assured Ned's brother.  "Men that talk openly of
+killing themselves, never do it.  Words are a safety-valve.  'Tis the
+sort that go silent and cheerful under a great blow that be nearest
+death."
+
+Cora spoke of Ned's looks with admiration and feared that this great
+disappointment might spoil them; but Milly was not so sympathetic.
+
+"If he stood to work and didn't think so much about the maidens, they
+might think a bit more about him," she said.
+
+"He swears he won't play St. George now," added Rupert.  "He haven't
+got the heart to go play-acting no more."
+
+"He'll find twenty girls to go philandering after afore winter,"
+foretold Milly.  "And if Cora here was to ask him, he'd play St. George
+fast enough."
+
+"'Twill be a very poor compliment to me if he cries off now," declared
+Cora.  "For I'm to be the princess, and 'tis pretended in the play that
+he's my true lover."
+
+"Mark will be jealous then.  'Tis a pity he don't play St. George,"
+said Milly.
+
+But Mark laughed.
+
+"A pretty St. George me!" he answered.  "No, no; I'm not jealous of
+Ned.  Safety in numbers, they say.  Let him be St. George and welcome;
+and very noble he'll look--if ever he's got brains enough in his empty
+noddle to get the words and remember them."
+
+Cora cast a swift side glance at her betrothed.  She did not speak, but
+the look was not all love.  Discontent haunted her for a little space.
+
+The ginger-beer was drunk and the repast finished.  The men lighted
+their pipes; the girls talked together.
+
+Milly congratulated Cora very heartily.
+
+"He's a fine, witty chap, as I've always said.  Different to most of
+us, along of being better eggicated.  But that modest and retiring, few
+people know what a clever man he is."
+
+These things pleased the other, and she was still more pleased when
+Milly discussed Mark's father.
+
+"I often see him," she said--"oftener than you might think for.  He'll
+ride to Trowlesworthy twice and thrice a month sometimes.  Why for?  To
+see my uncle, you might fancy.  But that's not the reason.  To talk
+with Jack he comes.  Jack Head and me be the only people in these parts
+that ban't afraid of him.  And that's what he likes.  You be fearless
+of him, Cora, or he'll think nought of thee.  Fearless and attentive to
+what he says--that's the rule with him.  And pretend nothing, or he'll
+see through it and pull you to pieces.  Him and Jack Head says the most
+tremendous things about the world and its ways.  They take Uncle Saul's
+breath away sometimes, and mine too.  But don't let him frighten
+you--that's the fatal thing.  If a creature's feared of him, he
+despises it.  Never look surprised at his speeches."
+
+Cora listened to this advice and thanked the other girl for it.
+
+"Why should I care a button for the old man, anyway?" she asked.  "If
+it comes to that, I'm as good as him.  There's nought to fear really,
+when all's said.  And I won't fear."
+
+The men strolled about the old village and gathered whortleberries;
+then Rupert judged that the storm that had skulked so long to the
+north, was coming at last.
+
+"We'd best be getting down-along," he said.  "Let's go across to
+Trowlesworthy; then, if it breaks, we can slip into the warren house a
+bit till the worst be over.
+
+"You be all coming to drink tea there," said Milly.  "Uncle Saul and
+Jack Head are away, but aunt be home, and I made the cakes specially o'
+Saturday."
+
+Drifting apart by a half a mile or so, the young couples left the
+Beacon, climbed Penshiel, and thence passed over the waste to where the
+red tor rose above Milly Luscombe's home.
+
+A sort of twilight stole at four o'clock over the earth, and it seemed
+that night hastened up while yet the hidden sun was high.  The sinister
+sky darkened and frowned to bursting; yet no rain fell, and later it
+grew light again, as the sun, sinking beneath the ridges of the clouds,
+flooded the Moor with the greatest brightness that the day had known.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+Some few weeks after it was known that young Mark Baskerville would
+marry Cora Lintern, a small company drank beer at 'The White Thorn' and
+discussed local politics in general, and the engagement in particular.
+The time was three in the afternoon.
+
+"They'll look to you for a wedding present without a doubt," said Mr.
+Gollop to Nathan, who stood behind his bar.
+
+"And they'll be right," answered the innkeeper.  "I'm very fond of 'em
+both."
+
+"You'll be put to it to find rich gifts for all your young people,
+however."
+
+"That's as may be.  If the Lord don't send you sons, the Devil will
+send you nephews--you know the old saying.  Not but what Vivian's boys
+and girls are a very nice lot--I like 'em all very well indeed.  Mark's
+different--clever enough, but made of another clay.  His mother was a
+retiring, humble woman--frightened of her own shadow, you might say.
+However, Cora will wake him into a cheerfuller conceit of himself."
+
+There was an interruption, for Dennis Masterman suddenly filled the
+doorway.
+
+"The very men I want," he said; then he entered.
+
+"Fine sweltering weather for the harvest, your honour," piped an old
+fellow who sat on a settle by the window with a mug of beer beside him.
+
+"So it is, Abel, and I hope there's another month of it to come.  Give
+me half a pint of the mild, will you, Baskerville?  'Tis about the
+rehearsal I've looked in.  Thursday week is the day--at seven o'clock
+sharp, remember.  And I'm very anxious that everybody shall know their
+words.  It will save a lot of trouble and help us on."
+
+"I've got mine very near," said Nathan.
+
+"So have I," declared Mr. Gollop.  "Here I, the King of Egypt, boldly
+do appear; St. Garge, St. Garge, walk in, my only son and heir!"
+
+"Yes, but you mustn't say '_h_eir'; the h isn't sounded, you know.  Has
+anybody seen Ned Baskerville?  I heard that he was in trouble."
+
+"Not at all," said Nathan.  "He's all right--a lazy rascal.  'Twas only
+another of his silly bits of work with the girls.  Running after Mr.
+Chave's daughter.  Like his cheek!"
+
+Mr. Masterman looked astonished.
+
+"I thought Mr. Chave----" he said.
+
+"Exactly, vicar; you thought right.  'Tis just his handsome face makes
+my nephew so pushing.  We be a yeoman race, we Baskervilles, though
+said to be higher once; but of course, as things are, Ned looking there
+was just infernal impudence, though his good old pig-headed father, my
+brother, couldn't see it.  He's only blind when Ned's the matter."
+
+"'Twas said he was going to jump in the river," declared the ancient
+Abel.
+
+"Nonsense and rubbish!" declared Nathan.  "Ned's not that sort.  Wait
+till he sees himself in the glittering armour of St. George, and he'll
+soon forget his troubles."
+
+"We must talk about the dresses after rehearsal.  A good many can be
+made at home."
+
+"Be you going to charge at the doors?" asked Mr. Gollop.  "I don't see
+why for we shouldn't."
+
+"Yes, certainly I am," answered Dennis.  "The money will go to
+rehanging the bells.  That's settled.  Well, remember.  And stir up Joe
+Voysey, Thomas.  You can do anything with him, but I can't.  Remind him
+about the French Eagle.  He's only got to learn six lines, but he says
+it makes his head ache so badly that he's sure he'll never do it."
+
+"I'll try and fire the man's pride," declared Mr. Gollop.  "Joe's not a
+day over sixty-eight, and he's got a very fair share of intellect.  He
+shall learn it, if I've got to teach him."
+
+"That's right.  Now I must be off."
+
+When the vicar was gone Gollop reviewed the situation created by young
+Masterman's energy and tact.
+
+"I never could have foreseen it, yet the people somehow make shift to
+do with him.  It don't say much for him, but it says a lot for us--for
+our sense and patience.  We'm always ready to lend the man a hand in
+reason, and I wish he was more grateful; but I shouldn't call him a
+grateful man.  Of course, this here play-acting will draw the eyes of
+the country on us, and he'll get the credit, no doubt; yet 'twill be us
+two men here in this bar--me and you, Nathan--as will make or mar all."
+
+"I'm very glad to help him.  He's a good chap, and my sort.  Lots of
+fun in the man when you know him."
+
+"Can't say I look at him like that.  He's not enough beholden to the
+past, in my opinion.  However, I believe he's woke up a bit to who I am
+and what my sister is," answered Gollop.
+
+"Not your fault if he hasn't."
+
+"And another thing--he don't take himself seriously enough," continued
+the parish clerk.  "As a man I grant you he has got nought to take
+seriously.  He's young, and he's riddled with evil, modern ideas that
+would land the country in ruin if followed.  But, apart from that, as a
+minister he ought to be different.  I hate to see him running after the
+ball at cricket, like a school-child.  'Tisn't decent, and it lessens
+the force of the man in the pulpit come Sunday, just as it lessened the
+force of physician Dawe to Tavistock when he took to singing comic
+songs at the penny readings.  Why, 'twas money out of the doctor's
+pocket, as he lived to find out, too late.  When Old Master Trelawny
+lay dying, and they axed un to let Dawe have a slap at un, he wouldn't
+do it.  'Be that the man that sang the song about locking his
+mother-in-law into the coal-cellar?' he axed.  'The same,' said they;
+'but he's a terrible clever chap at the stomach, and may save you yet
+if there be enough of your organs left for him to work upon.'  'No,
+no,' says old Trelawny.  'Such a light-minded feller as that couldn't
+be trusted with a dying man's belly.'  I don't say 'twas altogether
+reasonable, because the wisest must unbend the bow now and again; but I
+will maintain that that minister of the Lord didn't ought to take off
+his coat and get in a common sweat afore the people assembled at a
+cricket match.  'Tis worse than David making a circus of himself afore
+the holy ark; and if he does so, he must take the consequences."
+
+"The consequences be that everybody will think a lot better of him, as
+a manly and sensible chap, wishful to help the young men," declared Mr.
+Baskerville.  "One thing I can bear witness to: I don't get the
+Saturday custom I used to get, and that's to the good, anyway."  Then
+he looked at his watch and changed the subject.
+
+"Mrs. Lintern's daughter is paying a sort of solemn visit to my brother
+to-day, and they are all a little nervous about it."
+
+"He'll terrify her out of her wits," said Mr. Gollop.  "He takes a dark
+delight in scaring the young people."
+
+"'Tisn't that, 'tis his manner.  He don't mean to hurt 'em.  A
+difficult man, however, as I know only too well."
+
+"If he can't get on with you, there's a screw loose in him," remarked
+the old man, sitting on the settle.
+
+"I won't say that, Abel; but I don't know why 'tis that he's got no use
+for me."
+
+"No loss, however," asserted Thomas.  "A cranky and heartless creature.
+The likes of him couldn't neighbour with the likes of us--not enough
+human kindness in him."
+
+"Like our father afore him, and yet harder," explained the publican.
+"I can see my parent now--dark and grim, and awful old to my young
+eyes.  Well I remember the first time I felt the sting of him.  A
+terrible small boy I was--hadn't cast my short frocks, I believe--but
+I'd sinned in some little matter, and he give me my first flogging.
+And the picture I've got of father be a man with a hard, set face, with
+a bit of a grim smile on it, and his right hand hidden behind him.  But
+I knowed what was in it!  A great believer in the rod.  He beat us
+often--all three of us--till we'd wriggle and twine like a worm on a
+hook; but our uncle, the musicker, he was as different as you
+please--soft and gentle, like my nephew Mark, and all for spoiling
+childer with sweeties and toys."
+
+Mr. Gollop rose to depart, and others entered.  Then Nathan called a
+pot-man and left the bar.
+
+"I promised Mrs. Lintern as I'd go down to hear what Cora had to say,"
+he explained.  "I'm very hopeful that she's had the art to win
+Humphrey, for 'twill smooth the future a good bit for the people at
+Undershaugh if my brother takes to the wench.  You'd think nobody could
+help it--such a lovely face as she has.  However, we shall know how it
+fell out inside an hour or so."
+
+Meanwhile Cora, clad in her new muslin, had faced Humphrey Baskerville,
+and faced him alone.  For her future father-in-law expressly wished
+this, and Mark was from home on the occasion of his sweetheart's visit.
+Cora arrived twenty minutes before dinner, and watched Susan Hacker
+dish it up.  She had even offered to assist, but Susan would not permit
+it.
+
+"Better you go into the parlour and keep cool, my dear," she said.
+"You'll need to be.  Master's not in the best of tempers to-day.  And
+your young man left a message.  He be gone to Plympton, and will be
+back by four o'clock; so, when you take your leave, you are to go down
+the Rut and meet him at Torry Brook stepping-stones, if you please."
+
+"Where's Mr. Baskerville?"
+
+"Taking the air up 'pon top the tor.  He bides there most mornings till
+the dinner hour, and he'd forget his meal altogether so often as not,
+but I go to the hedge and ring the dinner bell.  Then he comes down."
+
+"How can I best please him, Susan?"
+
+"By listening first, and by talking afterwards.  He don't like a
+chatterbox, but he don't like young folk to be too silent neither.
+'Twill be a hugeous heave-up of luck if you can get on his blind side.
+Few can--I warn you of that.  He's very fond of natural, wild things.
+If you was to talk about the flowers and show him you be fond of
+nature, it might be well.  However, do as you will, he'll find out the
+truth of 'e."
+
+"I'm all of a tremor.  I wish you hadn't told me that."
+
+"Mark might have told you.  Still, for your comfort it may be said
+you're built the right way.  You'll be near so full-blown as I be, come
+you pass fifty.  He hates the pinikin,[1] pin-tailed sort.  Be cheerful,
+
+
+[1] _Pinikin_--delicate.
+
+
+eat hearty, don't leave nothing on your plate, and wait for him to say
+grace afore and after meat.  The rest must fall out according to your
+own sense and wit.  Now I be going to ring the bell."
+
+"I half thought that he might come part of the way to meet me."
+
+"You thought wrong, then.  He don't do that sort of thing."
+
+"I wish Mark was here, Susan."
+
+"So does Mark.  But master has his own way of doing things, and 'tis
+generally the last way that other people would use."
+
+Mrs. Hacker rang the bell, and the thin, black figure of Humphrey
+Baskerville appeared and began to creep down the side of the hill.  He
+had, of course, met Cora on previous occasions, but this was the first
+time that he had spoken with the girl since her betrothal.
+
+He shook hands and hoped that her mother was well.
+
+"A harvest to make up for last year," he said.  "You ought to be
+lending a hand by rights."
+
+"I don't think Mr. Baskerville would like for Polly and me to do that.
+'Tis too hot," she said.
+
+"Nathan wouldn't?  Surely he would.  Many hands make light work and
+save the time.  You're a strong girl, aren't you?"
+
+"Strong as a pony, sir."
+
+"Don't call me 'sir.'  And you're fond of wild nature and the
+country--so Mark tells me."
+
+"That I am, and the wild flowers."
+
+"Why didn't you wear a bunch of 'em then?  Better them than that
+davered[2] rose stuck in your belt.  Gold by the look of it--the belt I
+mean."
+
+
+[2] _Davered_--withered.
+
+
+She laughed.
+
+"I'll let you into the secret," she said.  "I wanted to be smart
+to-day, and so I took one of my treasures.  You'll never guess where
+this gold belt came from, Mr. Baskerville?"
+
+"Don't like it, anyway," he answered.
+
+"Why, 'twas the hat-band round my grandfather's hat!  He was a beadle
+up to some place nigh London; and 'twas an heirloom when he died; and
+mother gived it to me, and here it is."
+
+He regarded the relic curiously.
+
+"A funny world, to be sure," he said.  "Little did that bygone man
+think of such a thing when he put his braided hat on his head, I'll
+warrant."
+
+He relapsed into a long silence, and Cora's remarks were rewarded with
+no more than nods of affirmation or negation.  Then, suddenly, he broke
+out on the subject of apparel long after she thought that he had
+forgotten it.
+
+"Terrible tearing fine I suppose you think your clothes are, young
+woman--terrible tearing fine; but I hate 'em, and they ill become a
+poor man's wife and a poor man's daughter.  My mother wore her hair
+frapped back light and plain, with a forehead cloth, and a little blue
+baize rochet over her breast, and a blue apron and short gown and
+hob-nailed shoon; and she looked ten thousand times finer than ever you
+looked in your life--or ever can in that piebald flimsy, with those
+Godless smashed birds on your head.  What care you for nature to put a
+bit of a dead creature 'pon top of your hair?  A nasty fashion, and I'm
+sorry you follow it."
+
+She kept her temper well under this terrific onslaught.
+
+"We must follow the fashion, Mr. Baskerville.  But I'll not wear this
+hat again afore you, since you don't like it."
+
+"Going to be married and live up to your knees in clover, eh?  So you
+both think.  Now tell me what you feel like to my son, please."
+
+"I love him dearly, I'm sure, and I think he's a very clever chap, and
+quite the gentleman in all his ways.  Though he might dress a bit
+smarter, and not be so friendly with the other bellringers.  Because
+they are commoner men than him, of course."
+
+"'Quite the gentleman'--eh?  What's a gentleman?"
+
+"Oh, dear, Mr. Baskerville, you'll spoil my dinner with such a lot of
+questions.  To be a gentleman is to be like Mark, I suppose--kind and
+quick to see what a girl wants; and to be handsome and be well thought
+of by everybody, and all the rest of it."
+
+"You go a bit too high at instep," he said.  "You're too vain of your
+pretty face, and you answer rather pertly.  You don't know what a
+gentleman is, for all you think yourself a fine lady.  And I'll tell
+you this: very few people do know what a gentleman is.  You can tell a
+lot about people by hearing them answer when you ask them what a
+gentleman is.  Where would you like to live?"
+
+"Where 'twould please Mark best.  And if the things I say offend you,
+I'm sorry for it.  You must make allowances, Mr. Baskerville.  I'm
+young, and I've not got much sense yet; but I want to please you--I
+want to please everybody, for that matter."
+
+This last remark much interested her listener.  He started and looked
+at the girl fixedly.  Then his expression changed, and he appeared to
+stare through her at somebody or something beyond.  Behind Cora the old
+man did, indeed, see another very clearly in his mind's eye.
+
+After a painful silence she spoke again, and her tone was troubled.
+
+"I want to say the thing that will please you, if I can.  But I must be
+myself.  I'm sorry if you don't like me."
+
+"You must be yourself, and so must I," he answered; "and if I'm not
+liking you, you're loathing me.  But we're getting through our dinner
+very nicely.  Will you have any more of this cherry tart?"
+
+"No, I've done well."
+
+"You've eaten nought to name.  I've spoiled your appetite, and
+you--well, you've done more than you think, and taught me more than you
+know yourself."
+
+She shrugged her shoulders.
+
+"Mark says puzzling things like that sometimes."
+
+There was another silence.
+
+"You ride a pony, don't you?" he asked presently; and the girl
+brightened up.  Mr. Baskerville possessed some of the best ponies on
+Dartmoor, and sold a noted strain of his own raising.
+
+"He's going to make it up with a pony!" thought sanguine Cora.
+
+"I do.  I'm very fond of riding."
+
+"Like it better than walking, I dare say?"
+
+"Yes, I do."
+
+"And you'd like driving better still, perhaps?"
+
+"No, I wouldn't."
+
+"What are the strangles?" he asked suddenly and grimly.
+
+"It's something the ponies get the matter with them."
+
+"Of course; but what is it?  How does it come, and why?  Is it
+infectious?  Is it ever fatal to them?"
+
+She shook her head.
+
+"I don't know nothing about things like that."
+
+"No use having a pony if you don't understand it.  The strangles are
+infectious and sometimes fatal.  Don't forget that."
+
+Cora felt her temper struggling to break loose.  She poured out a glass
+of water.
+
+"I promise not to forget it," she answered.  "Shall I put the cheese on
+the table for you??
+
+"No, I thank you--unless you'll eat some."
+
+"Nothing more, I'm sure."
+
+"We'll walk out in the air, then.  With your love of nature, you'll
+like the growing things up on top of my hill.  Mark will be back for
+tea, I think.  But maybe you'll not stop quite so long as that."
+
+"I'll stop just as long as you like," she said.  "But I don't want to
+tire you."
+
+"You've got your mother's patience, and plenty of it, I see.  That's a
+good mark for you.  Patience goes a long way.  You can keep your
+temper, too--well for you that you can.  Though whether 'tis nature or
+art in you----"
+
+He broke off and she followed him out of doors.
+
+Upon the tor he asked her many things concerning the clouds above them,
+the cries of the birds, and the names of the flowers.  The ordeal
+proved terrible, because her ignorance of these matters was almost
+absolute.  At last, unable to endure more, she fled from him, pleaded a
+sudden recollection of an engagement for the afternoon, and hastened
+homeward as fast as she could walk.  Once out of sight of the old man
+she slowed down, and her wrongs and affronts crowded upon her and made
+her bosom pant.  She clenched her hands and bit her handkerchief.  She
+desired to weep, but intended that others should see her tears.
+Therefore she controlled them until she reached home, and then she
+cried copiously in the presence of her mother, her sister, and Nathan
+Baskerville, who had come to learn of her success.
+
+The directions of Mark, to meet him at Torry stepping-stones, Cora had
+entirely forgotten.  Nor would she have kept the appointment had she
+remembered it.  In her storm of passion she hated even Mark for being
+his father's son.
+
+Nathan was indignant at the recital, and Mrs. Lintern showed sorrow,
+but not surprise.
+
+"'Twas bound to be difficult," she said.  "He sent Mark away, you see.
+He meant to get to the bottom of her."
+
+"A very wanton, unmanly thing," declared Nathan.  "I'm ashamed of him."
+
+"Don't you take it too much to heart," answered the mother.  "Maybe he
+thought better of Cora than he seemed to do.  He's always harsh and
+hard like that to young people; but it means nought.  I believe that
+Cora's a bit frightened, that's all."
+
+"We must see him," said Nathan.  "At least, I must.  I make this my
+affair."
+
+"'Twill be better for me to do so."
+
+"I tried that hard to please the man," sobbed Cora; "but he looked me
+through--tore me to pieces with his eyes like a savage dog.  Nothing
+was right from my head to my heels.  Flouted my clothes--flouted my
+talk--was angered, seemingly, because I couldn't tell him how to cure a
+pony of strangles--wanted me to tell the name of every bird on the
+bough, and weed in the gutter.  And not a spark of hope or kindness
+from first to last.  He did say that I'd got my mother's patience, and
+that's the only pat on the back he gave me.  Patient!  I could have
+sclowed his ugly face down with my nails!"
+
+Her mother stroked her shoulder.
+
+"Hush!" she said.  "Don't take on about it.  We shall hear what Mark
+has got to tell."
+
+"I don't care what he's got to tell.  I'm not going to be scared out of
+my life, and bullied and trampled on by that old beast!"
+
+"No more you shall be," cried Nathan.  "He'll say 'tis no business of
+mine, but everything to do with Undershaugh is my business.  I'll see
+him.  He's always hard on me; now I'll be hard on him and learn him how
+to treat a woman."
+
+"Don't go in heat," urged Mrs. Lintern after Cora had departed with the
+sympathetic Phyllis.  "There's another side, you know.  Cora's not his
+sort.  No doubt her fine clothes--she would go in 'em, though I advised
+her not--no doubt they made him cranky; and then things went from bad
+to worse."
+
+"'Tis not a bit of use talking to me, Hester.  I'm angered, and
+naturally angered.  In a way this was meant to anger me, I'm afraid.
+He well knows how much you all at Undershaugh are to me.  'Twas to make
+me feel small, as much as anything, that he snubbed her so cruel.
+No--I'll not hear you on the subject--not now.  I'll see him to-day."
+
+"I shouldn't--wiser far to wait till you are cool.  He'll be more
+reasonable too, to-morrow, when he's forgotten a little."
+
+"What is there to forget?  The prettiest and cleverest girl in
+Shaugh--or in the county, for that matter.  Don't stop me.  I'm going
+this instant."
+
+"It's dangerous, Nat.  He'll only tell you to mind your own business."
+
+"No, he won't.  Even he can't tax me with not doing that.  Everything
+is my business, if I choose to make it so.  Anyway, all at Undershaugh
+are my business."
+
+He left her; but by the time he arrived at Beatland Corner, on the way
+to Hawk House, Nathan Baskerville had changed his mind.  Another aspect
+of the case suddenly presented itself to him, and, as he grew calmer,
+he decided to keep out of this quarrel, though natural instincts drew
+him into it.
+
+A few moments later, as thought progressed with him, he found himself
+wishing that Humphrey would die.  But the desire neither surprised nor
+shocked him, for he had often wished it before.  Humphrey's life was of
+no apparent service to Humphrey, while to certain other people it could
+only be regarded in the light of a hindrance.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+Some days later Mark Baskerville spoke with Mrs. Lintern, and she was
+relieved to find that Cora's fears had been exaggerated.
+
+"He said very little indeed about her, except that he didn't like her
+clothes and that she had a poor appetite," explained Mark.  "Of course,
+I asked him a thousand questions, but he wouldn't answer them.  I don't
+think he knows in the least how he flustered Cora.  He said one queer
+thing that I couldn't see sense in, though perhaps you may.  He said,
+'She's told me more about herself than she knows herself--and more than
+I'll tell again--even to you, though some might think it a reason
+against her.'  Whatever did he mean by that?  But it don't much matter,
+anyway, and my Cora's quite wrong to think she was a failure or
+anything of that kind.  He asked only this morning, as natural as
+possible, when she was coming over again."
+
+These statements satisfied the girl's mother, but they failed to calm
+Cora herself.  She took the matter much to heart, caused her lover many
+unquiet and anxious hours, and refused point-blank for the present to
+see Mr. Baskerville.
+
+Then fell the great first rehearsal of the Christmas play, and Dennis
+Masterman found that he had been wise to take time by the forelock in
+this matter.  The mummers assembled in the parish room, and the vicar
+and his sister, with Nathan Baskerville's assistance, strove to lead
+them through the drama.
+
+"It's not going to be quite like the version that a kind friend has
+sent me, and from which your parts are written," explained Dennis.
+"I've arranged for an introduction in the shape of a prologue.  I shall
+do this myself, and appear before the curtain and speak a speech to
+explain what it is all about.  This answers Mr. Waite here, who is
+going to be the Turkish Knight.  He didn't want to begin the piece.
+Now I shall have broken the ice, and then he will be discovered as the
+curtain rises."
+
+Mr. Timothy Waite on this occasion, however, began proceedings, as the
+vicar's prologue was not yet written.  He proved letter-perfect but
+exceedingly nervous.
+
+  "Open your doors and let me in,
+  I hope your favours I shall win.
+  Whether I rise or whether I fall,
+  I'll do my best to please you all!"
+
+
+Mr. Waite spoke jerkily, and his voice proved a little out of control,
+but everybody congratulated him.
+
+"How he rolls his eyes to be sure," said Vivian Baskerville.  "A very
+daps of a Turk, for sartain."
+
+"You ought to stride about more, Waite," suggested Ned Baskerville, who
+had cheered up of recent days, and was now standing beside Cora and
+other girls destined to assist the play.  "The great thing is to stride
+about and look alive--isn't it, Mr. Masterman?"
+
+"We'll talk afterwards," answered Dennis.  "We mustn't interfere with
+the action.  You have got your speech off very well, Waite, but you
+said it much too fast.  We must be slow and distinct, so that not a
+word is missed."
+
+Timothy, who enjoyed the praise of his friends, liked this censure less.
+
+"As for speaking fast," he said, "the man would speak fast.  Because he
+expects St. George will be on his tail in a minute.  He says, 'I know
+he'll pierce my skin.'  In fact, he's pretty well sweating with terror
+from the first moment he comes on the stage, I should reckon."
+
+But Mr. Masterman was unprepared for any such subtle rendering of the
+Turkish Knight, and he only hoped that the more ancient play-actors
+would not come armed with equally obstinate opinions.
+
+"We'll talk about it afterwards," he said.  "Now you go off to the
+right, Waite, and Father Christmas comes on at the left.  Mr.
+Baskerville--Father Christmas, please."
+
+Nathan put his part into his pocket, marched on to the imaginary stage
+and bowed.  Everybody cheered.
+
+"You needn't bow," explained Dennis; but the innkeeper differed from
+him.
+
+"I'm afraid I must, your reverence.  When I appear before them, the
+people will give me a lot of applause in their usual kindly fashion.
+Why, even these here--just t'other actors do, you see--so you may be
+sure that the countryside will.  Therefore I had better practise the
+bow at rehearsal, if you've no great argument against it."
+
+"All right, push on," said Dennis.
+
+"We must really be quicker," declared Miss Masterman.  "Half an hour
+has gone, and we've hardly started."
+
+"Off I go then; and I want you chaps--especially you, Vivian, and you,
+Jack Head, and you, Tom Gollop--to watch me acting.  Acting ban't the
+same as ordinary talking.  If I was just talking, I should say all
+quiet, without flinging my arms about, and walking round, and stopping,
+and then away again.  But in acting you do all these things, and
+instead of merely saying your speeches, as we would, just man to man,
+over my bar or in the street, you have to bawl 'em out so that every
+soul in the audience catches 'em."
+
+Having thus explained his theory of histrionics Mr. Baskerville
+started, and with immense and original emphasis, and sudden actions and
+gestures, introduced himself.
+
+  "Here come I, the dear old Father Christmas.
+    Welcome or welcome not,
+  I hope old Father Christmas
+    Will never be forgot.
+  A room--make room here, gallant boys,
+    And give us room to rhyme----"
+
+
+Nathan broke off to explain his reading of the part.
+
+"When I say 'make room' I fly all round the stage, as if I was pushing
+the people back to give me room."
+
+He finished his speech, and panted and mopped his head.
+
+"That's acting, and what d'you think of it?" he asked.
+
+They all applauded vigorously excepting Mr. Gollop, who now prepared to
+take his part.
+
+Nathan then left the stage and the vicar called him back.
+
+"You don't go off," he explained.  "You stop to welcome the King of
+Egypt."
+
+"Beg pardon," answered the innkeeper.  "But of course, so it is.  I'll
+take my stand here."
+
+"You bow to the King of Egypt when he comes on," declared Gollop.  "He
+humbly bows to me, don't he, reverend Masterman?"
+
+"Yes," said Dennis, "he bows, of course.  You'll have a train carried
+by two boys, Gollop; but the boys aren't here to-night, as they're both
+down with measles--Mrs. Bassett's youngsters."
+
+"I'll bow to you if you bow to me, Tom," said Mr. Baskerville.  "That's
+only right."
+
+"Kings don't bow to common people," declared the parish clerk.  "Me and
+my pretended darter--that's Miss Cora Lintern, who's the
+Princess--ban't going to bow, I should hope."
+
+"You ought to, then," declared Jack Head.  "No reason because you'm
+King of Egypt why you should think yourself better than other folk.
+Make him bow, Nathan.  Don't you bow to him if he don't bow to you."
+
+"Kings do bow," declared Dennis.  "You must bow to Father Christmas,
+Gollop."
+
+"He must bow first, then," argued the parish clerk.
+
+"Damn the man! turn him out and let somebody else do it!" cried Head.
+
+"Let neither of 'em bow," suggested Mrs. Hacker suddenly.  "With all
+this here bowing and scraping, us shan't be done afore midnight; and I
+don't come in the play till the end of all things as 'tis."
+
+"You'd better decide, your reverence," suggested Vivian.  "Your word's
+law.  I say let 'em bow simultaneous--how would that serve?"
+
+"Excellent!" declared Dennis.  "You'll bow together, please.  Now, Mr.
+Gollop."
+
+Thomas marched on with an amazing gait, designed to be regal.
+
+"They'll all laugh if you do it like that, Tom," complained Mr. Voysey.
+
+"Beggar the man!  And why for shouldn't they laugh?" asked Jack Head.
+"Thomas don't want to make 'em cry, do he?  Ban't we all to be as funny
+as ever we can, reverend Masterman?"
+
+"Yes," said Dennis.  "In reason--in reason, Jack.  But acting is one
+thing, and playing the fool is another."
+
+"Oh, Lord!  I thought they was the same," declared Vivian Baskerville.
+"Because if I've got to act the giant----"
+
+"Order! order!" cried the clergyman.  "We must get on.  Don't be
+annoyed, Mr. Baskerville, I quite see your point; but it will all come
+right at rehearsal."
+
+"You'll have to tell me how to act then," said Vivian.  "How the
+mischief can a man pretend to be what he isn't?  A giant----"
+
+"You're as near being a live giant as you can be," declared Nathan.
+"You've only got to be yourself and you'll be all right."
+
+"No," argued Jack Head.  "If the man's himself, he's not funny, and
+nobody will laugh.  I say----"
+
+"You can show us what you mean when you come to your own part, Jack,"
+said Dennis desperately.  "Do get on, Gollop."
+
+"Bow then," said Mr. Gollop to Nathan.
+
+"I'll bow when you do, and not a minute sooner," answered the innkeeper
+firmly.
+
+The matter of the bow was arranged, and Mr. Gollop, in the familiar
+voice with which he had led the psalms for a quarter of a century,
+began his part.
+
+  "Here I, the King of Egypt, boldly do appear,
+  St. Garge!  St. Garge! walk in, my only son and heir;
+  Walk in, St. Garge, my son, and boldly act thy part,
+  That all the people here may see thy wondrous art!"
+
+
+"Well done, Tom!" said Mr. Masterman, "that's splendid; but you mustn't
+sing it."
+
+"I ban't singing it," answered the clerk.  "I know what to do."
+
+"All right.  Now St. George, St. George, where are you?"
+
+"Along with the girls as usual," snapped Mr. Gollop.
+
+As a matter of fact Ned Baskerville was engaged in deep conversation
+with Princess Sabra and the Turkish Knight.  He left them and hurried
+forward.
+
+"Give tongue, Ned!" cried his father.
+
+"You walk down to the footlights, and the King of Egypt will be on one
+side of you and Father Christmas on the other," explained the vicar.
+
+"And you needn't look round for the females, 'cause they don't appear
+till later on," added Jack Head.
+
+A great laugh followed this jest, whereon Miss Masterman begged her
+brother to try and keep order.
+
+"If they are not going to be serious, we had better give it up, and
+waste no more time," she said.
+
+"Don't take it like that, miss, I beg of you," urged Nathan.  "All's
+prospering very well.  We shall shape down.  Go on, Ned."
+
+Ned looked at his part, then put it behind his back, and then brought
+it out again.
+
+"This is too bad, Baskerville," complained Dennis.  "You told me
+yesterday that you knew every word."
+
+"So I did yesterday, I'll swear to it.  I said it out in the kitchen
+after supper to mother--didn't I, father?"
+
+"You did," assented Vivian; "but that's no use if you've forgot it now."
+
+"'Tis stage fright," explained Nathan.  "You'll get over it."
+
+"Think you'm talking to a maiden," advised Jack Head.
+
+"Do get on!" cried Dennis.  Then he prompted the faulty mummer.
+
+  "Here come I, St. George----"
+
+
+Ned struck an attitude and started.
+
+  "Here come I, St. George; from Britain did I spring;
+  I'll fight the Russian Bear, my wonders to begin.
+  I'll pierce him through, he shall not fly;
+  I'll cut him--cut him--cut him----"
+
+
+"How does it go?"
+
+"'I'll cut him down,'" prompted Dennis.
+
+"Right!
+
+  "I'll cut him down, or else I'll die."
+
+
+"Good!  Now, come on, Bear!" said Nathan.
+
+"You and Jack Head will have to practise the fight," explained the
+vicar; "and at this point, or earlier, the ladies will march in to
+music and take their places, because, of course, 'fair Sabra' has to
+see St. George conquer his foes."
+
+"That'll suit Ned exactly!" laughed Nathan.
+
+Then he marshalled Cora and several other young women, including May
+and Polly Baskerville from Cadworthy, and Cora's sister Phyllis.
+
+"There will be a daïs lifted up at the back, you know--that's a raised
+platform.  But for the present you must pretend these chairs are the
+throne.  You sit by 'fair Sabra,' Thomas, and then the trumpets sound
+and the Bear comes on."
+
+"Who'll play the brass music?" asked Head, "because I've got a very
+clever friend at Sheepstor----"
+
+"Leave all that to me.  The music is arranged.  Now, come on!"
+
+"Shall you come on and play it like a four-footed thing, or get up on
+your hind-legs, Jack?" asked St. George.
+
+"I be going to come in growling and yowling on all fours," declared Mr.
+Head grimly.  "Then I be going to do a sort of a comic bear dance; then
+I be going to have a bit of fun eating a plum pudding; then I thought
+that me and Mr. Nathan might have a bit of comic work; and then I
+should get up on my hind-legs and go for St. George."
+
+"You can't do all that," declared Dennis.  "Not that I want to
+interfere with you, or anybody, Head; but if each one is going to work
+out his part and put such a lot into it, we shall never get done."
+
+"The thing is to make 'em laugh, reverend Masterman," answered Jack
+with firmness.  "If I just come on and just say my speech, and fight
+and die, there's nought in it; but if----"
+
+"Go on, then--go on.  We'll talk afterwards."
+
+"Right.  Now you try not to laugh, souls, and I wager I'll make you
+giggle like a lot of zanies," promised Jack.
+
+Then he licked his hands, went down upon them, and scrambled along upon
+all fours.
+
+"Good for you, Jack!  Well done!  You'm funnier than anything that's
+gone afore!" cried Joe Voysey.
+
+"So you be, for certain," added Mrs. Hacker.
+
+"For all the world like my bob-tailed sheep-dog," declared Mr. Waite.
+
+"Now I be going to sit up on my hams and scratch myself," explained Mr.
+Head; "then off I go again and have a sniff at Father Christmas.  Then
+you ought to give me a plum pudding, Mr. Baskerville, and I balance it
+'pon my nose."
+
+"Well thought on!" declared Nathan.  "So I will.  'Twill make the folk
+die of laughing to see you."
+
+"Come on to the battle," said Dennis.
+
+"Must be a sort of wraslin' fight," continued Head, "because the Bear's
+got nought but his paws.  Then, I thought, when I'd throwed St. George
+a fair back heel, he'd get up and draw his shining sword and stab me in
+the guts.  Then I'd roar and roar, till the place fairly echoed round,
+and then I'd die in frightful agony."
+
+"You ban't the whole play, Jack," said Mr. Gollop with much discontent.
+"You forget yourself, surely.  You can't have the King of Egypt and
+these here other high characters all standing on the stage doing nought
+while you'm going through these here vagaries."
+
+But Mr. Head stuck to his text.
+
+"We'm here to make 'em laugh," he repeated with bull-dog determination.
+"And I'll do it if mortal man can do it.  Then, when I've took the
+doctor's stuff, up I gets again and goes on funnier than ever."
+
+"I wouldn't miss it for money, Jack," declared Vivian Baskerville.
+"Such a clever chap as you be, and none of us ever knowed it.  You
+ought to go for Tom Fool to the riders.[3]  I lay you'd make tons more
+money than ever you will to Trowlesworthy Warren."
+
+
+[3] _The Riders_--a circus.
+
+
+"By the way, who is to be the Doctor?" asked Ned Baskerville.
+"'Twasn't settled, Mr. Masterman."
+
+Dennis collapsed blankly.
+
+"By Jove, no!  More it was," he admitted, "and I've forgotten all about
+it.  The Doctor's very important, too.  We must have him before the
+next rehearsal.  For the present you can read it out of the book, Mark."
+
+Mark Baskerville was prompting, and now, after St. George and the Bear
+had made a pretence of wrestling, and the Bear had perished with much
+noise and to the accompaniment of loud laughter, Mark read the Doctor's
+somewhat arrogant pretensions.
+
+  "All sorts of diseases--
+  Whatever you pleases:
+  The phthisic, the palsy, the gout,
+  If the Devil's in, I blow him out.
+
+  * * * * * *
+
+  "I carry a bottle of alicampane,
+  Here, Russian Bear, take a little of my flip-flap,
+  Pour it down thy tip-tap;
+  Rise up and fight again!"
+
+
+"Well said, Mark!  'Twas splendidly given.  Why for shouldn't Mark be
+Doctor?" asked Nathan.
+
+"An excellent idea," declared Dennis.  "I'm sure now, if the fair Queen
+Sabra will only put in a word----"
+
+Mark's engagement was known.  The people clapped their hands heartily
+and Cora blushed.
+
+"I wish he would," said Cora.
+
+"Your wish ought to be his law," declared Ned.  "I'm sure if 'twas
+me----"
+
+But Mark shook his head.
+
+"I couldn't do it," he answered.  "I would if I could; but when the
+time came, and the people, and the excitement of it all, I should break
+down, I'm sure I should."
+
+"It's past ten o'clock," murmured Miss Masterman to her brother.
+
+The rehearsal proceeded: Jack Head, as the Bear, was restored to life
+and slain again with much detail.  Then Ned proceeded--
+
+  "I fought the Russian Bear
+  And brought him to the slaughter;
+  By that I won fair Sabra,
+  The King of Egypt's daughter.
+  Where is the man that now will me defy?
+  I'll cut his giblets full of holes and make his buttons fly."
+
+
+"And when I've got my sword, of course 'twill be much finer," concluded
+Ned.
+
+Mr. Gollop here raised an objection.
+
+"I don't think the man ought to tell about cutting anybody's giblets
+full of holes," he said; "no, nor yet making their buttons fly.  'Tis
+very coarse, and the gentlefolks wouldn't like it."
+
+"Nonsense, Tom," answered the vicar, "it's all in keeping with the
+play.  There's no harm in it at all."
+
+"Evil be to them as evil think," said Jack Head.  "Now comes the song,
+reverend Masterman, and I was going to propose that the Bear, though
+he's dead as a nit, rises up on his front paws and sings with the rest,
+then drops down again--eh, souls?"
+
+"They'll die of laughing if you do that, Jack," declared Vivian.  "I
+vote for it."
+
+But Dennis firmly refused permission and addressed his chorus.
+
+"Now, girls, the song--everybody joins.  The other songs are not
+written yet, so we need not bother about them till next time."
+
+The girls, glad of something to do, sang vigorously, and the song went
+well.  Then the Turkish Knight was duly slain, restored and slain again.
+
+"We can't finish to-night," declared Dennis, looking at his watch, "so
+I'm sorry to have troubled you to come, Mrs. Hacker, and you, Voysey."
+
+"They haven't wasted their time, however, because Head and I have
+showed them what acting means," said Nathan.  "And when you do come on,
+Susan Hacker, you've got to quarrel and pull my beard, remember; then
+we make it up afterwards."
+
+"We'll finish for to-night with the Giant," decreed Dennis.  "Now speak
+your long speech, St. George, and then Mr. Baskerville can do the
+Giant."
+
+Ned, who declared that he had as yet learned no more, read his next
+speech, and Vivian began behind the scenes--
+
+  "Fee--fi--fo--fum!
+  I smell the blood of an Englishman.
+  Let him be living, or let him be dead,
+  I'll grind his bones to make my bread."
+
+
+"You ought to throw a bit more roughness in your voice, farmer,"
+suggested Mr. Gollop.  "If you could bring it up from the innards,
+'twould sound more awful, wouldn't it, reverend Masterman?"
+
+"And when you come on, farmer, you might pass me by where I lie dead,"
+said Jack, "and I'll up and give you a nip in the calf of the leg, and
+you'll jump round, and the people will roar again."
+
+"No," declared the vicar.  "No more of you, Head, till the end.  Then
+you come to life and dance with the French Eagle--that's Voysey.  But
+you mustn't act any more till then."
+
+"A pity," answered Jack.  "I was full of contrivances; however, if you
+say so----"
+
+"Be I to dance?" asked Mr. Voysey.  "This is the first I've heard tell
+o' that.  How can I dance, and the rheumatism eating into my knees for
+the last twenty year?"
+
+"I'll dance," said Head.  "You can just turn round and round slowly."
+
+"Now, Mr. Baskerville!"
+
+Vivian strode on to the stage.
+
+"Make your voice big, my dear," pleaded Gollop.
+
+  "Here come I, the Giant; bold Turpin is my name,
+  And all the nations round do tremble at my fame,
+  Where'er I go, they tremble at my sight:
+  No lord or champion long with me will dare to fight."
+
+
+"People will cheer you like thunder, Vivian," said his brother,
+"because they know that the nations really did tremble at your fame
+when you was champion wrestler of the west."
+
+"But you mustn't stand like that, farmer," said Jack Head.  "You'm too
+spraddlesome.  For the Lord's sake, man, try and keep your feet in the
+same parish!"
+
+Mr. Baskerville bellowed with laughter and slapped his immense thigh.
+
+"Dammy! that's funnier than anything in the play," he said.  "'Keep my
+feet in the same parish!'  Was ever a better joke heard?"
+
+"Now, St. George, kill the Giant," commanded Dennis.  "The Giant will
+have a club, and he'll try to smash you; then you run him through the
+body."
+
+"Take care you don't hit Ned in real earnest, however, else you'd
+settle him and spoil the play," said Mr. Voysey.  "'Twould be a
+terrible tantarra for certain if the Giant went and whipped St. George."
+
+"'Twouldn't be the first time, however," said Mr. Baskerville.  "Would
+it, Ned?"
+
+Nathan and Ned's sisters appreciated this family joke.  Then Mr. Gollop
+advanced a sentimental objection.
+
+"I may be wrong," he admitted, "but I can't help thinking it might be a
+bit ondecent for Ned Baskerville here to kill his father, even in play.
+You see, though everybody will know 'tis Ned and his parent, and that
+they'm only pretending, yet it might shock a serious-minded person here
+and there to see the son kill the father.  I don't say I mind, as 'tis
+all make-believe and the frolic of a night; but--well, there 'tis."
+
+"You'm a silly old grandmother, and never no King of Egypt was such a
+fool afore," said Jack.  "Pay no heed to him, reverend Masterman."
+
+Gollop snarled at Head, and they began to wrangle fiercely.
+
+Then Dennis closed the rehearsal.
+
+"That'll do for the present," he announced.  "We've made a splendid
+start, and the thing to remember is that we meet here again this day
+week, at seven o'clock.  And mind you know your part, Ned.  Another of
+the songs will be ready by then; and the new harmonium will have come
+that my sister is going to play.  And do look about, all of you, to
+find somebody who will take the Doctor."
+
+"We shall have the nation's eyes on us--not for the first time,"
+declared Mr. Gollop as he tied a white wool muffler round his throat;
+"and I'm sure I hope one and all will do the best that's in 'em."
+
+The actors departed; the oil lamps were extinguished, and the vicar and
+his sister returned home.  She said little by the way, and her severe
+silence made him rather nervous.
+
+"Well," he broke out at length, "jolly good, I think, for a first
+attempt--eh, Alice?"
+
+"I'm glad you were satisfied, dear.  Everything depends upon us--that
+seems quite clear, at any rate.  They'll all get terribly
+self-conscious and silly, I'm afraid, long before the time comes.
+However, we must hope for the best.  But I shouldn't be in a hurry to
+ask anybody who really matters."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+In a triangle the wild land of the Rut sloped down from Hawk House to
+the valley beneath, and its solitary time of splendour belonged to
+Spring, when the great furzes were blooming and the white thorns filled
+the valley with light.  Hither came Mark to keep tryst with Cora beside
+the stream.  He walked not loverly but languid, for his mind was in
+trouble, and his gait reflected it.
+
+To water's brink he came, sat on a familiar stump above Torry Brook,
+and watched sunshine play over the ripples and a dance of flies upon
+the sunshine.
+
+Looked at in a mass, the insects seemed no more than a glimmering, like
+a heat haze, over the water and against the background of the woods;
+but noted closer the plan and pattern of these myriads showed method:
+the little storm of flies gyrated in a circle, and while the whole
+cluster swept this way and that with the proper motion of the mass, yet
+each individual, like planets round the sun, revolved about a definite
+but shifting centre.  The insects whirled round and round, rose and
+sank again, each atom describing repeated circles; and though the
+united motion of this company suspended here in air appeared
+inconceivably rapid and dazzling, yet the progress of each single gnat
+was not fast.
+
+Mark observed this little galaxy of glittering lives, and, knowing some
+natural history, he considered intelligently the thing he saw.  For a
+moment it distracted him.  A warm noon had wakened innumerable brief
+existences that a cold night would still again.  All this immense
+energy must soon cease and the ephemeral atoms perish at the chill
+touch of evening; but to Nature it mattered neither more nor less if a
+dance of nebulæ or a dance of gnats should make an end that night.
+Countless successions of both were a part of her work.  From awful
+marriages of ancient suns new suns would certainly be born; and out of
+this midge dance here above the water, potential dances for another day
+were ensured, before the little system sank to rest, the aureole of
+living light became extinguished.
+
+He turned from the whirl and wail of the gnats to his own thoughts, and
+found them also revolving restlessly.  But their sun and centre was
+Cora.  He had asked her to meet him here, in a favourite and secret
+place, that he might speak harsh things to her.  There was no
+love-making toward just now.  She had angered him once and again.  He
+considered his grievances, strove to palliate them, and see all with
+due allowance; but his habit of mind, if vague, was not unjust.  He
+loved her passionately, but that she should put deliberate indignities
+upon him argued a faulty reciprocity of love.  Time had revealed that
+Cora did not care for Mark as well as he cared for her; and that would
+not have mattered--he held it reasonable.  But he desired a larger
+measure of affection and respect than he had received.  Then to his
+quick senses even the existing affection diminished, and respect
+appeared to die.
+
+These dire shadows had risen out of the rehearsals for the play.
+Cora's attitude towards other young men first astonished Mark and then
+annoyed him.  He kept his annoyance to himself, however, for fear of
+being laughed at.  Then, thanks to his cousin, Ned Baskerville, and the
+young farmer, Timothy Waite, he was laughed at, for Cora found these
+youths better company than Mark himself, and Jack Head and others did
+not hesitate to rally him about his indifferent lady.
+
+"She's more gracious with either of them than with me," he reflected.
+"Why, actually, when I offered as usual to walk home with her last
+week, she said yonder man had promised to do so and she need not
+trouble me!"
+
+As he spoke he lifted his eyes where a farm showed on the hills
+westerly through the trees.  Coldstone was a prosperous place, and the
+freehold of a prosperous man, young Waite, the Turkish Knight of the
+play.
+
+He had seen Cora home according to her wish, and Mark had kept his
+temper and afterwards made the present appointment by letter.  Now Cora
+came to him, late from another interview--but concerning it she said
+nothing.
+
+On her way from Undershaugh it happened that she had fallen in with
+Mark's father.  The old man rode his pony, and Cora was passing him
+hastily when he stopped and called her to him.  They had not met since
+the occasion of the girl's first and last visit to Hawk House.
+
+"Come hither," he said.  "I've fretted you, it seems, and set you
+against me.  I'm sorry for that.  You should be made of stouter stuff.
+Shake hands with me, Cora, please."
+
+He held out his hand and she took it silently.
+
+"I'll turn and go a bit of your road.  If you intend to marry my son,
+you must make shift to be my daughter, you see.  What was it made you
+so cross that you ran away?  But I know--I spoke against your clothes."
+
+"You spoke against everything.  I felt in every drop of blood in my
+body that you didn't like me.  That's why I had to run."
+
+He was silent a moment.  Suddenly he pointed to one faint gold torch
+above their heads, where a single bough of an elm was autumn-painted,
+and began to glow on the bosom of a tree still green.  It stood out
+shining against the deep summer darkness of the foliage.
+
+"What d'you make of that?" he asked.
+
+She looked up.
+
+"'Tis winter coming again, I suppose."
+
+"Yes--winter for us, death for the leaves.  I'm like that--I'm
+frost-bitten here and there--in places.  'Twas a frosty day with me
+when you came to dinner.  I'm sorry I hurt you.  But you must be
+sensible.  It's a lot harder to be a good wife than a popular maiden.
+My son Mark will need a strong-minded woman, not a silly one.  The
+question is, are you going to rise to it?  However, we'll leave that.
+How did you know in every drop of your blood, as you say, that you'd
+failed to please me?"
+
+"I knew it by--oh, by everything.  By your eyes and by the tone of your
+voice.  You said you wanted to talk to me."
+
+"Well, I did."
+
+"You never asked me nothing."
+
+"There was no need, you told me everything."
+
+"I said nought, I'm sure."
+
+"You said all I wanted to hear and told me a lot more than I wanted, or
+expected, to hear for that matter."
+
+"I'm sure I don't understand you, Mr. Baskerville."
+
+"No need--no need.  That's only to say you're like the rest.  They
+wonder how 'tis they don't understand me--fools that they are!--and yet
+how many understand themselves?  I'll tell you this: you're not the
+right wife for Mark."
+
+"Then I won't marry him.  There's quite as good as him, and better, for
+that matter."
+
+"Plenty.  Take young Waite from Coldstone Farm, for instance.  A strong
+man he is.  My son Mark is a weak man--a gentle character he hath.
+'Tis the strong men--they that want things--that alter the face of the
+world, and make history, and help the breed--not such as Mark.  He'd
+spoil you and bring out all the very worst of you.  Such a man as Waite
+would do different.  He'd not stand your airs and graces, and little
+silly whims and fancies.  He'd break you in; he'd tame you; and you'd
+look back afterwards and thank God you fell to a strong man and not a
+weak one."
+
+"Women marry for love, not for taming," she said.
+
+"Some, perhaps, but not you.  You ban't built to love, if you want to
+know the whole truth," he answered calmly.  "You belong to a sort of
+woman who takes all and gives nought.  I wish I could ope your eyes to
+yourself, but I suppose that's beyond human power.  But this I'll say:
+I wish you nothing but good; and the best good of all for such a one as
+you is to get a glimpse of yourself through a sensible and not unkindly
+pair of eyes.  If you are going to marry Mark, and want to be a happy
+woman and wish him to be a happy man, you must think of a lot of things
+beside your wedding frock."
+
+"For two pins I wouldn't marry him at all after this," she said.
+"You'd break any girl's heart, speaking so straight and coarse to her.
+I ban't accustomed to be talked to so cruel, and I won't stand it."
+
+"I do beg you to think again," he said, stopping his pony.  "I'm only
+telling you what I've often told myself.  I'm always open to hear sense
+from any man, save now and again when I find myself in a black mood and
+won't hear anything.  But you--a green girl as haven't seen one glimpse
+of the grey side yet--why, 'tis frank foolishness to refuse good advice
+from an old man."
+
+"You don't want to give me good advice," she answered, and her face was
+red and her voice high; "you only want to make me think small things of
+myself, and despise myself, and to choke me off Mark."
+
+"To choke you off Mark might be the best advice anybody could give you,
+for that matter, my dear; and as to your thinking small things of
+yourself--no such luck I see.  You'll go on thinking a lot of your
+little, empty self till you stop thinking for good and all.  Life ban't
+going to teach you anything worth knowing, because you've stuffed up
+your ears with self-conceit and vanity.  So go your way; but if you get
+a grain of sense come back to me, and I shall be very glad to hear
+about it."
+
+He left her standing still in a mighty temper.  She felt inclined to
+fling a stone after him.  And yet she rejoiced at the bottom of her
+heart, because this scene made her future actions easier.  Only one
+thing still held her to Mark Baskerville, and that was his money.  The
+sickly ghost of regard for him, which she was pleased to call love,
+existed merely as the answer to her own appeal to her conscience.  She
+had never loved him, but when the opportunity came, she could not
+refuse his worldly wealth and the future of successful comfort it
+promised.
+
+Now, however, were appearing others who attracted her far more.  Two
+men had entered into her life since the rehearsals, and both pleased
+her better than Mark.  One she liked for his person and for his charms
+of manner and of speech; the other for his masterful character and
+large prosperity.  One was better looking than Mark, and knew far
+better how to worship a woman; the other was perhaps as rich as Mark
+would be, and he appealed to her much more by virtue of his masculinity
+and vigour.  Mr. Baskerville had actually mentioned this individual
+during the recent conversation; and it was of him, too, that Mark
+considered where he sat and waited for Cora by the stream.
+
+But though she felt Timothy Waite's value, yet a thing even stronger
+drew her to the other man.  Ned Baskerville was the handsomest,
+gallantest, most fascinating creature that Cora had ever known.  Chance
+threw them little together until the rehearsals, but since then they
+had met often, and advanced far along a road of mutual admiration.
+Like clove to like, and the emptiness of each heart struck a kindred
+echo from the other; but neither appreciated the hollowness of the
+sound.
+
+Under these circumstances Humphrey Baskerville's strictures, though
+exceedingly painful to her self-love, were not unwelcome, for they made
+the thing that she designed to do reasonable and proper.  It would be
+simple to quote his father to her betrothed when she threw him over.
+
+In this temper Cora now appeared to Mark.  Had he been aware of it he
+might have hesitated before adding further fuel to the flames.  But he
+began in a friendly fashion, rose and kissed her.
+
+"You're late, Cora.  Look here.  Sit down and get cool and watch these
+flies.  The merry dancers, they are called, and well they may be.  'Tis
+a regular old country measure they seem to tread in the air--figure in
+and cross over and all--just like you do when you go through the old
+dance in the play."
+
+But she was in no mood of softness.
+
+"A tidy lot of dancing I'll get when I'm married to you!  You know you
+hate it, and hate everything else with any joy and happiness to it.
+You're only your father over again, when all's said, and God defend me
+from him!  I can't stand no more of him, and I won't."
+
+"You've met him?" said Mark.  "I was afraid you might.  I'm sorry for
+that."
+
+"Not so sorry as I am.  If I was dirt by the road he couldn't have
+treated me worse.  And I'm not going to suffer it--never once more--not
+if he was ten times your father!"
+
+"What did he say?"
+
+"What didn't he say?  Not a kind word, anyway.  And 'tis vain your
+sticking up for him, because he don't think any better of you than he
+do of me seemingly.  'Twas to that man he pointed."  She raised her arm
+towards the farm through the trees.  "He thinks a lot more of Timothy
+Waite than he does of you, I can tell you."
+
+"I'll talk to father.  This can't go on."
+
+"No, it can't go on.  Life's too short for this sort of thing.  I won't
+be bullied by anybody.  People seem to forget who I am."
+
+"You mustn't talk so, Cora.  I'm terrible sorry about it; but father's
+father, and he'll go his own rough way, and you ought to know what way
+that is by now.  Don't take it to heart--he means well."
+
+"'Heart!'  I've got no heart according to him--no heart, no sense, no
+nothing.  Just a dummy to show off pretty clothes."
+
+"He never said that!"
+
+"Yes, he did; and worse, and I'm tired of it.  You're not the only man
+in the world."
+
+"Nothing is gained by my quarrelling with father."
+
+"I suppose not; but I've got my self-respect, and I can't marry the son
+of a man that despises me openly like he does.  I won't be bullied by
+him, I promise you--a cruel hunks he is, and would gore me to pieces if
+he dared!  No better than a mad bull, I call him."
+
+"'Tis no good your blackguarding my father, Cora," said Mark.
+
+"Perhaps not; and 'tis no good his blackguarding me.  Very different to
+your Uncle Vivian, I'm sure.  Always a kind word and a pat on the cheek
+he've got; and so have your Uncle Nathan."
+
+"Uncle Vivian can be hard enough too--as my cousin Rupert that means to
+marry Milly Luscombe will tell you.  In fact, Rupert's going away
+because he won't stand his father."
+
+"Why don't you go away then?  If you were worth your salt, you'd turn
+your back on any man living who has treated me so badly as your father
+has."
+
+"We're in for a row, it seems," answered Mark, "and I'd better begin
+and get a painful job over.  When you've heard me, I'll hear you.  In
+the matter of my father I'll do what a son can do--that I promise you;
+but there's something on my side too."
+
+"Say it out then--the sooner the better."
+
+She found herself heartily hating Mark and was anxious to break with
+him while angry; because anger would make an unpleasant task more easy.
+
+"In a word, it's Ned Baskerville and that man over there--Waite.  These
+rehearsals of the play--you know very well how you carry on, Cora; and
+you know very well 'tisn't right or seemly.  You've promised to marry
+me, and you are my life and soul; but I can't share you with no other
+man.  You can't flirt with Ned while you're engaged to me; you can't
+ask Waite to see you home of a night while you're engaged to me.  You
+don't know what you're doing."
+
+"Why ban't you more dashing then?" she asked.  "You slink about so mean
+and humble.  Why don't you take a part in the play, and do as other
+men, and talk louder and look people in the face, as if you wasn't
+feared to death of 'em?  If you grumble, then I'll grumble too.  You
+haven't got enough pluck for me.  Ned's different, and so's t'other
+man, for that matter.  I see how much they admire me; I know how they
+would go through fire and water for me."
+
+"Not they!  Master Ned--why--he can roll his eyes and roll his voice;
+but--there--go on!  Finish what you've got to say."
+
+"I've only got to say that there's a deal about Ned you might very well
+copy in my opinion.  He's a man, anyway, and a handsome man for that
+matter.  And if you're going to fall out with your father, then you'll
+lose your money, and----"
+
+"I'm not going to fall out with him.  You needn't fear that."
+
+"Then more shame to you, for keeping friendly with a man that hates me.
+Call that love!  Ned----"
+
+"Have done about Ned!" he cried out.  "Ned's a lazy, caddling
+good-for-nought--the laughing-stock of every decent man and sane woman
+in Shaugh.  A wastrel--worthless.  You think he's fond of you, I
+suppose?"
+
+"I know he is.  And you know it."
+
+"Yes, just as fond of you as he is of every other girl that will let
+him be.  Anything that wears a petticoat can get to his empty
+heart--poor fool.  Love!  What does he know of that--a great, bleating
+baby!  His love isn't worth the wind he takes to utter it; and you'll
+very soon find that out--like other girls have--if you listen to him."
+
+"He knows what pleases a woman, anyway."
+
+"Cora!  Cora!  What are you saying?  D'you want to drive me mad?"
+
+He started up and stared at her.
+
+"'Twouldn't be driving you far.  Better sit down again and listen to me
+now."
+
+"I'll listen to nothing.  I'm choking--I'm stifling!  To think that
+you--oh, Cora--good God Almighty--and for such a man as that----"
+
+He rushed away frantically and she saw him no more.  He had not given
+her time to strike the definite blow.  But she supposed that it was as
+good as struck.  After such a departure and such words, they could not
+meet again even as friends.  The engagement was definitely at an end in
+her mind, for by no stretch of imagination might this be described as a
+lovers' quarrel.
+
+All was over; she rejoiced at her renewal of liberty and resolved not
+to see Mark any more, no matter how much he desired it.
+
+She flung away the luncheon that she had brought and set off for home,
+trusting that she might meet Humphrey Baskerville upon the way.  She
+longed to see him again now and repay him for a little of the indignity
+that he had put upon her.
+
+But she did not meet Mark's father.
+
+On the evening of the same day a congenial spirit won slight
+concessions from her.  Ned Baskerville arrived on some pretext
+concerning the play.  He knew very well by this time that, in the
+matter of her engagement, Cora was a victim, and he felt, as he had
+often felt before in other cases, that she was the only woman on earth
+to make him a happy man.  He despised Mark and experienced little
+compunction with respect to him.
+
+Upon this night Mrs. Lintern was out, and Cora made no objection to
+putting on her hat and going to the high ground above Shaugh Prior to
+look at the moon.
+
+"'Twon't take above ten minutes, and then I'll see you back," said Ned.
+
+They went together, and he flattered her and paid her many compliments
+and humbled himself before her.  She purred and was pleased.  They
+moved along together and he told her that she was like the princess in
+the play.
+
+"You say nought, but, my God, you look every inch a princess!  If 'twas
+real life, I'd slay fifty giants and a hundred bears for you, Cora."
+
+"Don't you begin that silliness.  I'm sure you don't mean a word of it,
+Ned."
+
+"If you could see my heart, Cora, you'd see only one name there--I
+swear it."
+
+"What about t'other names--all rubbed out, I suppose?"
+
+"They never were there.  All the other girls were ghosts beside you.
+Not one of them----"
+
+Suddenly near at hand the church bells began to throb and tremble upon
+the peace of moonlit night.
+
+"Mark's out of the way then," said Ned.  "Not that I'm afraid of him,
+or any other man.  You're too good for Mark, Cora--a million times too
+good for him.  I'm bound to tell you so."
+
+"I'm sick of him and his bell-ringing," she said violently.
+
+"Hullo!  That's strong," he exclaimed.
+
+"So would any maiden be.  He puts tenor bell afore me.  'Tis more to
+him than ever I was.  In a word, I've done with the man!"
+
+"You splendid, plucky creature!  'Twas bound to come.  Such a spirit as
+yours never could have brooked a worm like him!  You're free then?"
+
+"Yes, I am."
+
+
+Elsewhere in the belfry Mark rang himself into better humour.  The
+labour physicked his grief and soothed his soul.  He told himself that
+all the fault was his, and when the chimes were still, he put on his
+coat and went to Undershaugh to beg forgiveness.
+
+Phyllis met him.
+
+"Cora's out walking," she said.
+
+"Out walking!  Who with?" he asked.
+
+But Phyllis was nothing if not cautious.  She had more heart, but not
+more conscience than her sister.
+
+"I don't know--alone, I think," she answered.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+A day of storm buffeted the Moor.  Fitful streaks of light roamed
+through a wild and silver welter of low cloud; and now they rested on a
+pool or river, and the water flashed; and now they fired the crests of
+the high lands or made the ruddy brake-fern flame.  Behind Shaugh Moor
+was storm-cloud, and beneath it, oozing out into the valleys, extended
+the sullen green of water-logged fields hemmed in with autumnal hedges.
+
+Hither came Mark Baskerville on his way to Shaugh, and then a man
+stopped him and changed his plan.  For some time he had neither seen
+nor heard from Cora, and unable longer to live with this cloud between
+them, Mark was now on his way to visit her.
+
+Consideration had convinced him that he was much in fault, and that she
+did well to keep aloof until he came penitent back again; but he had
+already striven more than once to do so, and she had refused to see
+him.  He told himself that it was natural she should feel angered at
+the past, and natural that she should be in no haste to make up so
+serious a quarrel.
+
+But the catastrophe had now shrunk somewhat in his estimation, and he
+doubted not that Cora, during the passage of many days, also began to
+see it in its proper perspective.  He did not wholly regret their
+difference, and certain words that she had spoken still stung painfully
+when he considered them; but the dominant hunger in his mind was to get
+back to her, kiss her lips and hear her voice again.  He would be very
+circumspect henceforth, and doubtless so would she.  He felt sure that
+Cora regretted their difference now, and that the time was over-ripe
+for reconciliation.
+
+The next rehearsal would take place upon the following day, and Mark
+felt that friendly relations must be re-established before that event.
+He was on his road to see Cora and take no further denial, when her
+brother met him and stopped him.
+
+"Lucky I ran against you," said Heathman; "I've got a letter for you
+from my sister, and meant to leave it on my way out over to Lee Moor.
+Coarse weather coming by the look of it."
+
+"Thank you," answered Mark.  "You've saved me a journey then.  I was
+bound for Undershaugh."
+
+Heathman, who knew that he bore evil news, departed quickly, while the
+other, with true instinct of sybarite, held the precious letter a
+moment before opening it.
+
+It happened that Cora seldom wrote to him, for they met very often; but
+now, having a difficult thing to say, she sought this medium, and Mark,
+knowing not the truth, was glad.
+
+"Like me--couldn't keep it up no more," he thought.  "I almost wish
+she'd let me say I was sorry first; but she might have heard me say so
+a week ago, if she'd liked.  Thank Heaven we shall be happy again
+before dark.  I'll promise everything in the world she wants
+to-night--even to the ring with the blue stone she hungered after at
+Plymouth."
+
+He looked round, then the wind hustled him and the rain broke in a
+tattered veil along the edge of the hill.
+
+"I'll get up to Hawk Tor, and lie snug there, and read her letter in
+the lew place I filled with fern for her," he thought.
+
+There was a natural cavern facing west upon this height, and here, in a
+nook sacred to Cora, he sat presently and lighted his pipe and so came
+to the pleasant task.  He determined that having read her plea for
+forgiveness, it would be impossible to wait until nightfall without
+seeing her.
+
+"I'll go down and take dinner with them," he decided: then he read the
+letter:--
+
+
+"DEAR MARK,
+
+"After what happened a little while ago you cannot be surprised if I
+say I will not marry you.  There is nothing to be said about it except
+that I have quite made up my mind.  I have thought about it ever since,
+and not done nothing in a hurry.  We would not suit one another, and
+the older we grew, the worse we should quarrel.  So it will be better
+to part before any harm is done.  You will easily find a quieter sort
+of girl, without so much spirit as me.  And she will suit you better
+than what I do.  I have told my mother that I am not going to marry
+you.  And Mr. Nathan Baskerville, your own uncle, though he is very
+sorry indeed about it, is our family friend and adviser, and he says it
+is better we understand and part at once.  I hope you won't make any
+fuss, as _nothing will change me_.  And you will have the pleasure of
+knowing your father will be thankful.  No doubt you will soon find a
+better-looking and nicer girl than me, and somebody that your father
+won't treat the same as he treated
+
+  "Yours truly,
+      "CORA LINTERN."
+
+
+Through the man's stunned grief and above the chaos of his thoughts,
+one paramount and irrevocable conviction reigned.  Cora meant what she
+wrote, and nothing that he had power to say or to do would win her back
+again.  She would never change; she had seen him in anger and the sight
+had determined her; she had met his father and had felt that such
+antagonism must ruin her life.
+
+He possessed imagination and was able swiftly to feel what life must
+mean without her.  He believed that his days would be impossible
+henceforth.  He read the letter again and marked how she began with
+restraint and gradually wrote herself into anger.
+
+She smarted when she reflected on his father; and he soon convinced
+himself that it was his father who had driven her to these conclusions.
+He told himself that he did not blame her.  The pipe in his mouth had
+been given to him by Cora.  He emptied it now, put it into its case,
+rose up and went home.  He planned the things to say to his father and
+determined to show him the letter.  Mark desired to make his father
+suffer, and did not doubt but that he would suffer when this
+catastrophe came to his ears.
+
+Then his father appeared before him, far off, driven by the wind; and
+Mark, out of his tortured mind, marvelled to think that a thing so
+small as this dim spot, hastening like a dead leaf along, should have
+been powerful enough, and cruel enough, deliberately to ruin his life.
+For he was now obsessed by the belief that his father alone must be
+thanked for the misfortune.
+
+They came together, and Humphrey shouted to be heard against the riot
+of the wind.  His hat was pressed over his ears; the tails of his coat
+and the hair on his head leapt and danced; his eyes were watering.
+
+"A brave wind!  Might blow sense into a man, if anything could.  What
+are you doing up here?"
+
+"Read that," said the other, and his father stopped and stared at him.
+Despite the rough air and the wild music of heath and stone, Mark's
+passion was not hidden and his face as well as his voice proclaimed it.
+"See what you have done for your only son," he cried.
+
+Humphrey held out his hand for the letter, took it and turned his back
+to the wind.  He read it slowly, then returned it to Mark.
+
+"She means that," he answered.  "This isn't the time to speak to you.
+I know all that's moving in you, and I guess how hard life looks.  But
+I warn you: be just.  I'm used to be misread by the people and care
+nought; but I'd not like for you to misread me.  You think that I've
+done this."
+
+"I know you have--and done it with malice aforethought too.  The only
+thing I've ever loved in life--the only thing that ever comed into my
+days to make 'em worth living--and you go to work behind my back to
+take it away from me.  And me as good a son to you as my nature would
+allow--always--always."
+
+"As good a son as need be hoped for--I grant that.  But show a little
+more sense in this.  Use your brains, of which you've got too many for
+your happiness, and see the truth.  Can a father choke a girl off a man
+if she loves the man?  Was it ever heard that mother or father stopped
+son or daughter from loving?  'Tis against nature, and nought I could
+have said, and nought I could have done would have come between her and
+you--never, if she'd loved you worth a curse.  But she didn't.  She
+loved the promise of your money.  She loved the thought of being the
+grey mare and playing with a weak man's purse.  She loved to think on
+the future, when I was underground and her way clear.  And that hope
+would have held with her just as strong after knowing me, as before
+knowing me.  The passing trouble of me, and my straight, sour speeches,
+and my eyes looking through her into her dirty little heart, wouldn't
+have turned the girl away from you, if she'd loved you honestly.  Why,
+even lust of money would have been too strong to break down under
+that--let alone love of man.  'Tis not I but somebody else has
+sloked[1] her away from thee.  And the time will come when you may live
+to thank your God that it's happened so.  But enough of that.  I can
+bear your hard words, Mark; and bitter though 'twill sound upon your
+ear, I'll tell you this: I'm thankful above measure she's flung you
+over.  'Tis the greatest escape of your life, and a blessing in
+disguise--for more reasons than you know, or ever will.  And as for him
+that's done it, nought that you can wish him be likely to turn out much
+worse than what he'll get if he marries that woman."
+
+
+[1] _Sloked_--enticed and tempted.
+
+
+"Shouldn't I know if 'twas another man?  She was friendly and frank
+with all.  She hadn't a secret from me.  'Twas only my own blind
+jealousy made me think twice about it when she talked with other men."
+
+"But she did talk with 'em and you did think twice?  And you didn't
+like it?  And you quarrelled -eh?  And that was the sense in you--the
+sense trying to lift you above the blind instinct you'd got for her.
+Would you have quarrelled for nothing?  Are you that sort?  Too fond of
+taking affronts and offering the other cheek, you are--like I was once.
+You can't blind me.  You've suffered at her hands already, and spoken,
+and this is her slap back at you.  No need to drag me in at all then;
+though I did give her raw sense for her dinner when she came to see me.
+Look further on than your father for the meaning of this letter.  Look
+to yourself first, and if that don't throw light, look afield."
+
+"There's none--none more than another--I'll swear it."
+
+"Seek a man with money and with a face like a barber's image and not
+over-much sense.  That's the sort will win her; and that's the sort
+will suit her.  And now I've done."
+
+They walked together and said the same things over and over again, as
+people are prone to do in argument.  Then they separated in heat, for
+the father lost patience and again declared his pleasure at this
+accident.
+
+Whereon Mark cried out against him for a callous and brutal spirit, and
+so left him, and turned blindly homeward.  He did not know what to do
+or how to fight this great tribulation.  He could not believe it.  He
+came back to Hawk House at last and found himself in an angle of the
+dwelling, out of the wind.
+
+Here reigned artificial silence and peace.  The great gale roared
+overhead; but beneath, in this nook, not a straw stirred.  He stood and
+stared at his fallen hopes and ruined plans; while from a dry spot
+beside the wall, there came to him the sweet, sleepy chirruping of
+chickens that cuddled together under their mother's wings.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+While the desolation of Mark Baskerville came to be learnt, and some
+sympathised with him and some held that Cora Lintern had showed a very
+proper spirit to refuse a man cursed with such a father, lesser trouble
+haunted Cadworthy Farm, for the parent of Rupert Baskerville declared
+himself to be suffering from a great grievance.
+
+Vivian was an obstinate man and would not yield to his son's demand;
+but the situation rapidly reached a climax, for Rupert would not yield
+either.
+
+Night was the farmer's time for long discussions with his wife; and
+there came a moment when he faced the present crisis with her and
+strove for some solution of the difficulty.
+
+"Unray yourself and turn out the light and come to bed," he said to
+Mrs. Baskerville.  He already lay in their great four-poster, and,
+solid though the monster was, it creaked when Vivian's immense bulk
+turned upon it.
+
+His wife soon joined him and then he began to talk.  He prided himself
+especially on his reasonableness, after the fashion of unreasonable men.
+
+"It can't go on and it shan't," he said.  "Never was heard such a thing
+as a son defying his father this way.  If he'd only given the girl up,
+then I should have been the first to relax authority and tell him he
+might have her in due season if she liked to wait.  But for him to
+cleave to her against my express order--'tis a very improper and
+undutiful thing--specially when you take into account what a father
+I've been to the man."
+
+"And he've been a good son, too."
+
+"And why not?  I was a good son--better than ever Rupert was.  And
+would I have done this?  I never thought of marriage till my parents
+were gone."
+
+"Work was enough for you."
+
+"And so it should be for every young man.  But, nowadays, they think of
+nought but revels and outings and the girls.  A poor, slack-twisted
+generation.  My arm would make a leg for any youth I come across
+nowadays."
+
+"You must remember you'm a wonder, my dear.  We can't all be like you."
+
+"My own sons ought to be, anyway.  And I've a right to demand it of
+'em."
+
+"Rupert works as hard as a man can work--harder a thousand times than
+Ned."
+
+"I won't have you name 'em together," he answered.  "A man's firstborn
+is always a bit different to the rest.  Ned is more given to reading
+and brain work."
+
+She laughed fearlessly and he snorted like a bull beside her.
+
+"What are you laughing at?" he said.
+
+"At your silliness.  Such a sharp chap and so wise as you are; and yet
+our handsome eldest--why, he can't do wrong!  And Lord knows he can't
+do wrong in my eyes neither.  Still, when it comes to work----"
+
+"We'll leave Ned," answered the father.  "He can work all right, and
+when you've seed him play St. George and marked his intellects and
+power of speech, you'll be the first to say what a 'mazing deal of
+cleverness be hid in him.  His mind's above the land, and why not?  We
+can't all be farmers.  But Rupert's a born farmer, and seeing as he be
+going to follow my calling, he ought to follow my example and bide a
+bachelor for a good ten years more."
+
+"She's a nice girl, however."
+
+"She may be, or she may not be.  Anyway, she's been advising him to go
+away from home, and that's not much to her credit."
+
+"She loves him and hates for him to be here so miserable."
+
+"He'll find himself a mighty sight more miserable away.  Don't I pay
+him good money?  Ban't he saving and prospering?  What the deuce do he
+want to put a wife and children round his neck for till he's learned to
+keep his own head above water?"
+
+"'Twas Mr. Luscombe's man that's determined him, I do think," declared
+Hester Baskerville.  "Jack Head is just the sort to unsettle the young,
+with his mischievous ideas.  All the same, I wish to God you could meet
+Rupert.  He's a dear good son, and there's lots of room, and for my
+part I'd love to see him here with Milly.  'Tis high time you was a
+grandfather."
+
+"You foolish women!  Let him bide his turn then.  The eldest first, I
+say.  'Tis quite in reason that Ned, with his fashion of mind, should
+take a wife.  I've nought against that----"
+
+"You silly men!" she said.  "Ned!  Why, what sensible girl will look at
+such a Jack-o'-lantern as him--bless him!  He's too fond of all the
+girls ever to take one.  And if he don't throw them over, after a bit
+of keeping company, they throw him over.  If you could but see yourself
+and him!  'Tis as good as play-acting!  'There's only one lazy man in
+the world that your husband forgives for being lazy,' said Jack Head to
+me but yesterday.  'And who might that be?' said I, well knowing.
+'Why, Ned, of course,' he answers back."
+
+"I must talk to Jack's master.  A lot too free of speech he's
+getting--just because they be going to let him perform the Bear at
+Christmas.  But, when all's said, the wise man makes up his own mind;
+and that have been my habit from my youth up."
+
+"You think so," she answered.
+
+"I know so.  And Rupert may go.  He'll soon come back."
+
+"Never, master."
+
+"He'll come back, I tell you.  He'll find the outer world very
+different from Cadworthy."
+
+"I wish you'd let that poor boy, Mark, be a lesson to you.  Your love
+story ran suent, so you can't think what 'tis for a young thing to be
+crossed where the heart is set.  It looks a small matter to us, as have
+forgotten the fret and fever, if we ever felt it, but to them 'tis life
+or death."
+
+"That's all moonshine and story-books.  And my story ran suent along of
+my own patience and good sense--no other reason.  And I may tell you
+that Mark have took the blow in a very sensible spirit.  I saw my
+brother a bit ago--Nathan I mean.  He was terrible cut up for both of
+'em, being as soft as a woman where young people are concerned.  But
+he'd had a long talk with Mark and found him perfectly patient and
+resigned about it."
+
+"The belving[1] cow soonest forgets her calf.  'Tis the quiet sort that
+don't make a row and call out their misfortunes in every ear, that feel
+the most.  It's cut him to the heart and gone far to ruin his
+life--that's what it's done.  You don't want to have your son in the
+same case?"
+
+
+[1] _Belving_--bellowing.
+
+
+"Rupert's very different to that.  'Tis his will against mine, and if
+he disobeys, he must stand the brunt and see what life be like without
+me behind him.  When Nathan went for a sailor, I said nothing.  They
+couldn't all bide here, and 'twas a manly calling.  But Rupert was
+brought up to take my place, owing to Ned's superior brain power; and
+now if he's going to fling off about a girl and defy me--well, he may
+go; but they laugh best who laugh last.  He'll suffer for it."
+
+"I'm much feared nought we can do will change him.  That girl be
+everything to him.  A terrible pity, too, for after you, I never knowed
+a man so greedy of work.  'Sundays!  There are too many Sundays,' he
+said to Ned in my hearing not long since.  'What do a healthy man want
+to waste every seventh day for?'  It might have been you talking."
+
+"Not at all," answered her husband.  "Very far from it.  That's Jack
+Head's impious opinion.  Who be we to question the Lord's ordaining?
+The seventh's the Lord's, and I don't think no better of Rupert for
+saying that, hard though it may sometimes be to keep your hands in your
+pockets, especially at hay harvest."
+
+"Well, if you ban't going to budge, he'll go."
+
+"Then let him go--and he can tell the people that he haven't got no
+father no more, for that's how 'twill be if he does go."
+
+"Don't you say that, master."
+
+"Why for not?  Truth's truth.  And now us will go to sleep, if you
+please."
+
+Soon his mighty snore thundered through the darkness; but Mrs.
+Baskerville was well seasoned to the sound; and thoughts of her son,
+not the noisy repose of her husband, banished sleep.
+
+
+Others had debated these vexed questions of late, and the dark, short
+days were made darker for certain sympathetic people by the troubles of
+Mark and the anxieties of his cousin, Rupert.
+
+Nathan Baskerville discussed the situation with Mrs. Lintern a week
+before the great production of 'St. George.'  Matters had now advanced
+and the situation was developed.
+
+"That old fool, Gollop!" he said.  "He goeth now as if the eye of the
+world was on him.  You'd think Shaugh Prior was the hub of the
+universe, as the Yankees say, and that Thomas was the lynch-pin of the
+wheel!"
+
+"He's found time to see which way the cat's jumping, all the same,"
+answered Mrs. Lintern.  "Full of Ned Baskerville and our Cora now!
+Says that 'tis a case and everybody knows it."
+
+Nathan shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"Yes--well, these things can't be arranged for them.  The young must go
+their own road.  A splendid couple they make without a doubt.  They'll
+look magnificent in their finery at the revel.  But I wish nephew Ned
+wasn't quite so vain of his good parts."
+
+Cora herself entered at this moment, and had that to say which awoke no
+small interest in her mother.
+
+"I've fallen in with Mark," she said; "and I was passing, but he spoke
+and 'tis all well, I believe.  He was very quiet and you might almost
+say cheerful."
+
+"Thank the Lord he's got over it then," answered Nathan; but Mrs.
+Lintern doubted.
+
+"Don't feel too sure of that.  He ban't one to wear his heart on his
+sleeve, anyway."
+
+"He's took it surprising well, everybody says," said Cora, in a voice
+that made the innkeeper laugh.
+
+"Poor Mark!--but I see Cora here isn't too pleased that he's weathered
+the storm so easily.  She'd have liked him to be a bit more down in the
+mouth."
+
+"I'm very pleased indeed," she answered.  "You never gave better advice
+than when you bade me write to him.  The truth is that he's not made to
+marry.  Tenor bell be enough wife for him."
+
+"I wonder who'll ring it when you're wedded," mused Nathan.  "No man
+have touched that bell since my nephew took it up."
+
+"Time enough.  Not that he'd mind ringing for me, I believe.  Such a
+bloodless thing as he is really--no fight in him at all seemingly."
+
+"If you talk like that we shall begin to think you're sorry he took you
+at your word," said Mr. Baskerville; but Cora protested; and when he
+had gone, she spoke more openly to her mother.
+
+"'Tis a very merciful escape for me, and perhaps for him.  I didn't
+understand my own mind; and since he's took it so wonderful cool, I
+guess he didn't know his mind either."
+
+"You haven't heard the last of him.  I've met the like.  For my part
+I'd rather hear he was daft and frantic than so calm and reasonable.
+'Tis the sort that keep their trouble out of sight suffer most."
+
+"I'd have forgiven him everything but being a coward," declared Cora
+fiercely.  "What's the use of a man that goes under the thumb of his
+father?  If he'd said 'I hate my father, and I'll never see him again,
+and we'll run away and be married and teach him a lesson,' then I'd
+have respected him.  But not a bit of it.  And to take what I wrote
+like that!  Not even to try and make me think better of it.  A very
+poor-spirited chap."
+
+Mrs. Lintern smiled, not at the picture of Mark's sorrows, but at her
+daughter's suggestion, that she would have run away with the young man
+and married him and defied consequences.
+
+"How we fool ourselves," she said.  "You think you would have run with
+him.  You wouldn't have run a yard, Cora.  The moment you found things
+was contrary with his father, you was off him--why?  Because your first
+thought always is, and always has been, the main chance.  You meant to
+marry him for his money--you and me know that very well, if none else
+does."
+
+The daughter showed no concern at this attack.
+
+"I shan't marry a pauper, certainly.  My face is all the fortune you
+seem like to give me, and I'm not going to fling it away for nought.  I
+do set store by money, and I do long to have some; and so do every
+other woman in her senses.  The only difference between me and others
+is that they pretend money ban't everything, and I say it is, and don't
+pretend different."
+
+"Milly Luscombe be going to stick to Rupert Baskerville, however,
+though 'tis said his father will cut him off with a shilling if he
+leaves Cadworthy."
+
+Cora sniffed.
+
+"There'll be so much the more for the others then.  They Baskerville
+fathers always seem to stand in the way of their sons when it comes to
+marrying.  Mr. Nathan would have been different if he'd had a family.
+He understands the young generation.  Not that Vivian Baskerville will
+object to Ned marrying, for Ned told me so."
+
+"No doubt he'll be glad for Ned to be prevented from making a fool of
+himself any more."
+
+Mrs. Lintern's daughter flushed.
+
+"He's long ways off a fool," she said.  "He ban't the man who comes all
+through the wood and brings out a crooked stick after all.  He knows
+what women are very well."
+
+"Yes; and I suppose Mr. Waite knows too?"
+
+"He's different to Ned Baskerville.  More cautious like and prouder.
+I'd sooner have Ned's vanity than t'other's pride.  What did he want to
+be up here talking with you for?--Timothy Waite I mean."
+
+"No matter."
+
+"'Twasn't farming, anyway?"
+
+"Might have been, or might not.  But, mark this, he's a very shrewd,
+sensible young man and knows his business, and how to work, and the
+value of money, and what it takes to save money.  He'll wear well--for
+all you toss your head."
+
+"He's a very good chap.  I've got nothing against him; but----"
+
+"But t'other suits you better?  Well, have a care.  Don't be in no
+hurry.  Get to know a bit more about him; and be decent, Cora.
+'Twouldn't be decent by no means to pick up with him while everybody
+knows you've just jilted his cousin."
+
+"Didn't do no such thing.  I've got my side and 'tisn't over-kind in
+you to use such a word as that," answered her daughter sharply.
+"However, you never did have no sympathy with me, and I can't look for
+it.  I'll go my way all the same, and if some fine day I'm up in the
+world, I'll treat you better than you've treated me."
+
+But Mrs. Lintern was not impressed by these sentiments.  She knew her
+daughter's heart sufficiently well.
+
+"'Twill be a pair of you if you take Ned Baskerville," she said.  "And
+you needn't pretend to be angered with me.  You can't help being what
+you are.  I'm not chiding you; I'm only reminding you that you must be
+seemly and give t'other matter time to be forgot.  You owe the other
+man something, if 'tis only respect--Mark, I mean."
+
+"He'll be comforted mighty quick," answered Cora.  "Perhaps he'll let
+his father choose the next for him; then 'twill work easier and
+everybody will be pleased.  As for me, I'm in no hurry; and you needn't
+drag in Ned's name, for he haven't axed me yet and very like he'd get
+'no' for his answer if he did."
+
+Mrs. Lintern prepared to depart and Cora spoke again.
+
+"And as for Mark, he's all right and up for anything.  He chatted free
+and friendly about the play and the dresses we're going to wear.  He's
+to be prompter on the night and 'tis settled that the schoolmaster from
+Bickleigh be going to be Doctor, because there's none in this parish
+will do it.  And Mark says that after the play's over, he shall very
+like do the same as Rupert and leave home."
+
+"He said that?"
+
+"Yes; and I said, 'None can ring tenor bell like you, I'm sure.'  Then
+he looked at me as if he could have said a lot, but he didn't."
+
+"I hope he will go and see a bit of the world.  'Twill help him to
+forget you," said her mother.
+
+"Ned's the only one of 'em knows the world," answered Cora.  "He's
+travelled about a bit and 'tis natural that his father should put him
+before all the others and see his sense and learning.  When parson's
+voice gave out, Ned read the lessons--that Sunday you was from
+home--and nobody ever did it better.  He's a very clever man, in fact,
+and his father knows it, and when his father dies, the will is going to
+show what his father thinks of him."
+
+"He's told you so, I suppose?"
+
+"Ned has, yes.  He knows I'm one of the business-like sort.  I'd leap
+the hatch to-morrow if a proper rich man came along and asked me to."
+
+"Remember you're not the first--that's all," said her mother.  "If you
+take him and he changes his mind and serves you like he's served
+another here and there, you'll have a very unquiet time of it, and look
+a very big fool."
+
+"'Twas all nonsense and lies," she answered.  "He made the truth clear
+to me.  He never took either of them girls.  They wasn't nice maidens
+and they rushed him into it--or thought they had.  He's never loved any
+woman until----"
+
+Cora broke off.
+
+"Shan't tell you no more," she continued.  "'Tis no odds to you--you
+don't care a button--and I shall soon be out of your house, anyhow."
+
+"Perhaps; but I shall be a thought sorry for all them at Cadworthy Farm
+if you take Ned and set up wife along with his family," answered her
+mother.  "Hard as a cris-hawk[2] you be; and you'll have 'em all by the
+ears so sure as ever you go there."
+
+
+[2] _Cris-hawk_--kestrel.
+
+
+"You ax Mrs. Hester Baskerville if I be hard," retorted Cora.  "She'll
+tell that I'm gentle as a wood-dove.  I don't show my claws without
+there's a good reason for it.  And never, unless there is.  Anyway, I'm
+a girl that's got to fight my own battles, since you take very good
+care not to do a mother's part and help me."
+
+"You shall have the last word," answered Mrs. Lintern.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+Some weeks after Christmas had passed, Mr. Joseph Voysey and others met
+at 'The White Thorn' and played chorus to affairs according to their
+custom.  The great subject of discussion was still the play.  It had
+been enacted twice to different audiences, and it proved but an
+indifferent success.  Everybody agreed that the entertainment promised
+better than its ultimate performance.  At rehearsal all went well; upon
+the night of the display a thousand mishaps combined to lessen its
+effect.
+
+Joe Voysey summed up to Thomas Gollop, who sat and drank with him.
+
+"What with us all being so busy about Christmas, and the weather, and
+Nathan here getting a cold on his chest and only being able to croak
+like a frog, and parson losing his temper with Head at the last
+rehearsal, and other things, it certainly failed.  'Tis a case of least
+said soonest mended; but I'm keeping this mask of the French Eagle what
+I wore, for it makes a very pretty ornament hanged over my parlour
+mantelshelf."
+
+"In my judgment," declared Nathan, "'twas Jack Head that played the
+mischief with the show.  After parson cooled him down at rehearsal, I
+allow he went a bit lighter on his part and didn't act quite so
+forcible, but well I knew he was saving it up for the night; and so he
+was.  'Twas all Jack all the time, and even when he was supposed to be
+dead, he must still keep growling to make the people laugh.  He's had a
+right down row with Mr. Masterman since."
+
+"A make-strife sort of man; and yet a cheerful man; and yet, again, a
+very rebellious man against the powers," said Voysey.
+
+"Well, 'tis over and it shows, like everything else do, how much may
+grow out of little," added Nathan.  "Just a bit of fun at Christmas,
+you'd say, wouldn't leave no very great mark, yet--look at it--how
+far-reaching."
+
+"It's brought the eyes of the county on us, as I said it would,"
+replied the parish clerk.  "The Rural Dean was here afterwards and took
+his luncheon at the vicarage and came to the church to see the
+font-cover; but Nancy Mumford--maiden to the vicarage--waits at table,
+and she told my sister that his reverence said to Mr. Masterman that
+we'd fallen between two stools and that the performance was a sort of a
+mongrel between a modern pantomime and the old miracle play, and that
+the masks and such-like were out of order.  And Miss Masterman was a
+bit acid with the Rural Dean and said, to his face, that if he'd only
+had to see the thing through, as they had, she was sure that he'd be
+more charitable like about it."
+
+"Us shan't have no more play-acting, mark me," foretold Joe Voysey;
+then others entered the bar, among them being Saul Luscombe from
+Trowlesworthy and Heathman Lintern.  The warrener was on his way home
+and stayed only for a pint and a few friendly words.
+
+"You should hear Jack Head tell about the play," he said.
+
+"And he should hear us tell about him," answered Voysey.  "Jack, so
+near as damn it, spoilt the play.  In fact, innkeeper here thinks he
+did do so."
+
+"He vows that he saved the whole job from being a hugeous failure.  And
+young farmer Waite swears 'twas Miss Lintern as the Princess that saved
+it; and Mr. Ned, your nephew, Nathan--he swears 'twas himself that
+saved it."
+
+"And I think 'twas I that saved it," declared Thomas.  "However, enough
+said.  'Tis of the past and will soon be forgot, like a dead man out of
+mind."
+
+"That's where you're wrong, Tom," said Heathman.  "You can't forget a
+thing so easy.  Besides, there's all that hangs to it.  There's Polly
+Baskerville, that was one of Cora's maidens in the play, got engaged to
+be married on the strength of it--to Nick Bassett--him as waited on the
+Turkish Knight.  And now--bigger news still for me and mine.  Cora's
+taken Ned Baskerville!"
+
+"I knew it was going to happen," admitted Nathan.  "'Tis a very
+delicate thing, for she's only broken with the man's cousin a matter of
+a few months.  Her mother asked me about it a bit ago."
+
+"You've got to remember this," said Heathman.  "I should have been the
+first to make a row--me being Cora's only brother and the only man
+responsible to look after her.  I say I should have been the first to
+make a row, for I was terrible savage with her and thought it hard for
+her to throw over Mark, just because his father was an old carmudgeon.
+But seeing how Mark took it----"
+
+"To the eye, I grant you that; but these quiet chaps as hide their
+feelings often feel a lot more than they show," said Mr. Luscombe.
+
+"He was hard hit, and well I know it, for his father told me so,"
+continued Nathan Baskerville.  "My brother, Humphrey, in a sort of way,
+blamed me and Mrs. Lintern, and, in fact, everybody but himself.  One
+minute he said that Mark was well out of it, and the next he got to be
+very jealous for Mark and told me that people were caballing against
+his son.  I go in fear of meeting my brother now, for when he hears
+that Cora Lintern is going to take Ned Baskerville, he'll think 'twas
+all a plot and he'll rage on Mark's account."
+
+"'Tis Mark that I fear for," said Heathman; then Gollop suddenly
+stopped him.
+
+"Hush!" he cried, and held up his hand.  After a brief silence,
+however, he begged young Lintern to proceed.
+
+"Beg your pardon," he said.  "I thought I heard something."
+
+"I fear for Mark," continued the other, "because I happen to know that
+he still secretly hoped a bit.  I don't like my sister Cora none too
+well, and I reckon Mark's worth a million of her, and I told him I was
+glad to see him so cheerful about it.  'You'm very wise to keep up your
+pecker, Mark,' I said to the man; 'because she'm not your sort really.
+I know her better than you do and can testify to it.'  But he said I
+mustn't talk so, and he told me, very private, that he hadn't gived up
+all hope.  Poor chap, I can let it out now, for he knows 'tis all over
+now.  'While she's free, there's a chance,' he told me.  'I won't never
+think,' he said, 'that all that's passed between us is to be blown away
+at a breath of trouble like this.'  That's how he put it, and I could
+see by the hollow, wisht state of his eyes and his nerves all ajolt,
+that he'd been through a terrible lot."
+
+"He'd built on her coming round, poor fellow--eh?  That's why he put
+such a brave face on it then," murmured Nathan.
+
+Then Voysey spoke again.
+
+"As it happens, I can tell you the latest thing about him," he said.
+"I was to work two days agone 'pon the edge of our garden, doing nought
+in particular because the frost was got in the ground and you couldn't
+put a spade in.  But I was busy as a bee according to my wont--tying up
+pea-sticks I think 'twas, or setting a rat-trap, or some such
+thing--when who should pass down t'other side of the hedge but Mark
+Baskerville?  Us fell into talk about the play, and I took him down to
+my house to show him where my grand-darter had stuck the mask what made
+me into the French Eagle.  Then I said there were changes in the air,
+and he said so too.  I remarked as Rupert Baskerville had left
+Cadworthy and gone to work at the Lee Moor china clay, and he said
+'Yes; and I be going too.'  'Never!' I said.  'What'll Mr. Humphrey do
+without you?'  But he didn't know or care.  'Who ever will ring your
+bell when you're gone?' I asked him, and----"
+
+Thomas Gollop again interrupted.
+
+"'Tis a terrible queer thing you should name the bell, Joe," he said,
+"for I'll take my oath somebody's ringing it now!"
+
+"Ringing the bell!  What be talking of?" asked Heathman.  "Why, 'tis
+hard on ten o'clock."
+
+"Yet I'm right."
+
+At this moment Saul Luscombe, who had set out a minute sooner, returned.
+
+"Who's ago?" he asked.  "The bell's tolling."
+
+They crowded to the door, stood under the clear stillness of night, and
+heard the bell.  At intervals of a minute the deep, sonorous note
+throbbed from aloft where the church tower rose against the stars.
+
+"There's nobody sick to death that I know about," said Nathan.  "'Twill
+be Mark ringing, no doubt.  None touches tenor bell but him."
+
+Mr. Luscombe remounted his pony.
+
+"Cold bites shrewd after your bar, Nathan.  Good night, souls.  Us
+shall hear who 'tis to-morrow."
+
+The bell tolled thrice more; then it stopped.
+
+"Bide a minute and I'll come back," said Mr. Gollop.  "I can't sleep
+this night without knowing who 'tis.  A very terrible sudden seizure,
+for certain.  Eliza may know."
+
+He crossed the road and entered his own house, which stood against the
+churchyard wall.  They waited and he returned in a minute.
+
+"She knows nought," he said.  "Mark dropped in a little bit ago and
+axed for the key.  'What do 'e want in belfry now, Mr. Baskerville?'
+she axed him.  'Passing bell,' he said; and Eliza was all agog, of
+course, for 'twas the first she'd heard of it.  'What's the name?' she
+said; but he answered nought and went down the steps and away.  A
+minute after the bell began."
+
+"'Tis over now, anyway.  I'll step across and meet Mark," said Mr.
+Baskerville.
+
+One or two others accompanied him; but there was no sign of the ringer.
+Then, led by Gollop, they entered the silent church and shouted.
+
+"Where be you, Mark Baskerville, and who's dead?" cried Gollop.
+
+In the belfry profound silence reigned, and the ropes hanging from
+their places above, touched the men as they groped in the darkness.
+
+"He's gone, anyway," declared Nathan.  Then suddenly a man's boot
+rubbed against his face.  The impact moved it a moment; but it swung
+back heavily again.
+
+The innkeeper yelled aloud, while Gollop fetched a lantern and lighted
+it.  Then they found that Mark Baskerville had fastened a length of
+stout cord to the great rope of the tenor bell at twenty feet above the
+floor.  He had mounted a ladder, drawn a tight loop round his neck,
+jumped into the air, and so destroyed himself.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+Certain human dust lay in a place set apart from the main churchyard of
+St. Edward's.  Here newborn babies, that had perished before admission
+into the Christian faith, were buried, because the ministers of the
+church felt doubtful as to the salving of these unbaptised ones in
+another world.  The spot was known as 'Chrisomers' Hill,' a name
+descended from ancient use.  By chrisom-cloths were first understood
+the anointed white garments put upon babes at baptism; and afterwards
+they came to mean the robes of the newly-baptised.  Infants were also
+shrouded in them if they perished a month after baptism; while a
+chrisom-child, or chrisomer, signified one who thus untimely died.
+
+Among these fallen buds the late vicar of the parish had also buried a
+woman who took her own life; and Thomas Gollop, nothing doubting but
+that here, and only here, the body of Mark Baskerville might decently
+be laid, took it upon himself to dig the grave on Chrisomers' Hill.
+But the ground was very hard and Thomas no longer possessed his
+old-time strength of arm.  Therefore a young man helped him, and during
+the intervals of labour, the elder related incidents connected with
+past interments.  Some belonged to his own recollection; others had
+been handed down by his father.
+
+"And touching these childer took off afore the holy water saved 'em, my
+parent held the old story of the Heath Hounds," concluded Thomas.  "And
+there might be more in it than us later-day mortals have a right to
+deny.  For my father solemnly swore that he'd heard 'em in winter
+gloamings hurrying through the air, for all the world like a flock of
+night-flying birds, and barking like good-uns in full cry after the
+Dowl.  'Tis Satan that keeps 'em out of the joys of Paradise; but only
+for a time, you must know, because these here babbies never done a
+stroke of wrong, being too young for it; and therefore, in right and
+reason, they will be catched up into Heaven at the last."
+
+"But no doubt 'tis different if a human takes their own life," said the
+young man.
+
+"Different altogether," declared Mr. Gollop.  "To take your own life be
+to go to a party afore you'm invited--a very presumpshuss and pushing
+thing, to say the least.  No charity will cover it.  For argument's
+sake, we'll say as I cut my throat, and then I stand afore the Throne
+of Grace so soon as the life be out of me.  'Who be you?' says the
+A'mighty.  'Thomas Gollop, your Reverence,' says I.  Then they fetch
+the Books and it all comes out that I've took the law of life into my
+own hands and upset the record and made a far-reaching mess of
+everything; because you must know you can't live to yourself alone, and
+if you lay hands on your body, you be upsetting other lives beside your
+own, and making trouble in the next world so well as this.  So down I
+go to the bad place--and very well I should deserve it.  I can't be
+sure of Masterman, but he'll hardly have the face to treat this rash
+corpse like a God-fearing creature, I should hope.  The parish will
+ring with it if he do."
+
+"Crowner's sitting now over to 'The White Thorn,'" said Tom's assistant.
+
+"Yes; and since Jack Head's 'pon the jury, there'll be no paltering
+with truth.  I hate the man and have little good to say of him as a
+general thing; but there's no nonsense to him, and though he's oftener
+wrong than any chap I know, he won't be wrong to-day, for he told me
+nought would shake him.  'Tis the feeble-minded fashion to say that
+them that kill themselves be daft.  They always bring it in so.  Why?
+Because the dust shall cheat justice and get so good Christian burial
+as the best among us.  But Head won't have that.  He's all for bringing
+it in naked suicide without any truckling or hedging.  The young man
+was sane as me, and took his life with malice aforethought; and so he
+must lie 'pon Chrisomers' Hill with the doubtfuls, not along with the
+certainties."
+
+As he spoke somebody approached, and Nathan Baskerville, clad in black,
+stood beside them.
+
+"I want you, Gollop," he said.  "Who are you digging for here?  'Tis
+long since Chrisomers' Hill was opened."
+
+"For Mark Baskerville," answered the sexton stoutly.  "'Tis here he's
+earned his place, and here he'll lie if I'm anybody."
+
+Nathan regarded Thomas with dislike.
+
+"So old and so crooked-hearted still!" he said.  "I'm glad you've had
+your trouble for your pains, for you deserve it.  Poor Mark is to be
+buried with his mother.  You'd better see about it, and pretty quick
+too.  The funeral's the day after to-morrow."
+
+"I'll discourse with the reverend Masterman," answered Thomas; "and
+I'll also hear what the coroner have got to say."
+
+"You're a nasty old man sometimes, Gollop, and never nastier than
+to-day.  As to Mr. Masterman, you ought to know what stuff he's made of
+by this time; and as for the inquest, 'tis ended.  The verdict could
+only be one thing, and we decided right away."
+
+"What about Jack Head?"
+
+"Jack's not a cross-grained old fool, whatever else he may be,"
+answered the innkeeper.  "I convinced him in exactly two minutes that
+my nephew couldn't have been responsible for what he did.  And
+everybody but a sour and bitter man, like you, must have known it.
+Poor Mark is thrown over by a girl--not to blame her, either, for she
+had to be true to herself.  But still he won't believe that she's not
+for him, though she's put it plain as you please in writing; and he
+goes on hoping and dreaming and building castles in the air.  Always
+dreamy and queer at all times he was--remember that.  Then comes the
+crashing news for him that all is over and the maiden has taken another
+man.  Wasn't it enough to upset such a frail, fanciful creature?
+Enough, and more than enough.  He hides his trouble and his brain fails
+and his heart breaks--all unseen by any eye.  And then what happens?
+He rings his own passing-bell!  Was that the work of a sane man?  Poor
+chap--poor chap!  And you'd deny him Christian burial and cast him
+here, like a dog, with the poor unnamed children down under.  I blush
+for you.  See to his mother's grave and try and be larger-hearted.
+'Tis only charity to suppose the bitter cold weather be curdling your
+blood.  Now I'm off to my brother Humphrey, to tell him what there is
+to tell."
+
+Then Mr. Nathan buttoned up his coat and turned to the grinning
+labourer.
+
+"Don't laugh at him," he said.  "Be sorry for him.  'Tis no laughing
+matter.  Fill up that hole and take down yonder slate at the far end of
+the Baskerville row, and put everything in order.  Our graves be all
+brick."
+
+He departed and Mr. Gollop walked off to the vicarage.
+
+
+A difficult task awaited Nathan, but he courted it in hope of future
+advantage.  He was terribly concerned for his brother and now designed
+to visit him.  As yet Humphrey had seen nobody.
+
+Vivian had called at Hawk House the day after Mark's death, but Mrs.
+Hacker had told him that her master was out.  On inquiries as to his
+state, she had merely replied that he was not ill.  He had directed
+that his son's body should remain at the church, and he had not visited
+Shaugh again or seen the dead since the night that Mark perished.
+
+Now Nathan, secretly hoping that some better understanding between him
+and Humphrey might arise from this shattering grief, and himself
+suffering more than any man knew from the shock of it, hastened to
+visit his bereaved brother and acquaint him with the circumstances of
+the inquest.
+
+Humphrey Baskerville was from home and Nathan, knowing his familiar
+haunt, proceeded to it.  But first he asked Mrs. Hacker how her master
+fared.
+
+The woman's eyes were stained with tears and her nerves unstrung.
+
+"He bears it as only he can bear," she said.  "You'd think he was a
+stone if you didn't know.  Grinds on with his life--the Lord knows at
+what cost to himself.  He lighted his pipe this morning.  It went out
+again, I grant you; still it shows the nature of him, that he could
+light it.  Not a word will he say about our dear blessed boy--done to
+death--that's what I call it--by that picture-faced bitch to
+Undershaugh."
+
+"You mustn't talk like that, Susan.  'Twas not the girl's fault, but
+her cruel misfortune.  Be honest, there's a good creature.  She's
+suffered more than any but her mother knows.  No, no, no--not Cora.
+The terrible truth is that Humphrey's self is responsible for all.  If
+he'd met Mrs. Lintern's daughter in a kinder spirit, she'd never have
+feared to come into the family and never have thrown over poor Mark.
+But he terrified her to death nearly, and she felt a marriage with such
+a man's son could never come to good."
+
+Mrs. Hacker was not following the argument.  Her mind had suffered a
+deep excitation and shock, and she wandered from the present to the
+past.
+
+"The ups and downs of it--the riddle of it--the indecency of it--life
+in general, I mean!  To think that me and you not above a week agone
+were dancing afore the public eye--Father Christmas and Mother Dorothy.
+How the people laughed!  And now----"
+
+She stared stupidly before her and suddenly began repeating her part in
+the play.
+
+  "Here come I, old Mother Dorothy,
+  Fat, fair, plump and commodity.
+  My head is big, my body is bigger:
+  Don't you think I be a handsome old figure?"
+
+
+"And the quality said I might have been made for the part!"
+
+"You're light-headed along of all this cruel grief," answered Nathan.
+"Go in out of this cold wind, Susan, and drink a stiff drop of spirits.
+I suppose my brother is up on the tor?"
+
+"Yes, he's up there; you can see him from the back garden.  Looks like
+an image--a stone among the stones, or a crow among the crows.  But the
+fire's within.  He was terrible fond of Mark really, though he'd rather
+have had red-hot pincers nip him than show it."
+
+"I'll go up," declared the innkeeper.
+
+He climbed where his brother appeared against the skyline and found
+Humphrey bleakly poised, standing on a stone and looking into the eye
+of the east wind.  His coat was flapping behind him; his hat was drawn
+over his eyes; his nose was red and a drop hung from it.  He looked
+like some great, forlorn fowl perched desolate and starving here.
+
+"Forgive me for coming, brother, but I hadn't the heart to keep away.
+You wouldn't see me before; but you must now.  Get down to the lew side
+of these stones.  I must speak to you."
+
+"I'm trying to understand," answered the other calmly.  "And the east
+wind's more like to talk sense to me than ever you will."
+
+"Don't say that.  We often court physical trouble ourselves when we are
+driven frantic with mental trouble.  I know that.  I've suffered too in
+my time; though maybe none of the living--but one--will ever know how
+much.  But 'tis senseless to risk your own life here and fling open
+your lungs to the east wind because your dear son has gone.  Remember
+'tis no great ill to die, Humphrey."
+
+"Then why do you ask me to be thoughtful to live?"
+
+"I mean we mustn't mourn over Mark for himself--only his loss for
+ourselves.  He's out of it.  No more east wind for him.  'Tis our grief
+that's left.  His grief's done; his carking cares be vanished for ever.
+You mustn't despair, Humphrey."
+
+"And you pass for an understanding man, I suppose?  And tell me not to
+despair.  Despair's childish.  Only children despair when they break
+their toys.  And grown-up children too.  But not me.  I never despair,
+because I never hope.  I made him.  I created him.  He was a good son
+to me."
+
+"And a good man every way.  Gentle and kind--too gentle and kind, for
+that matter.  Thank God we're all Christians.  Blessed are the meek.
+His cup of joy is full, and where he is now, Humphrey, his only grief
+is to see ours."
+
+"That's the sort of stuff that's got you a great name for a sympathetic
+and feeling man, I suppose?  D'you mean it, or is it just the natural
+flow of words, as the rain falls and the water rolls down-hill?  I tell
+you that he was a good man, and a man to make others happy in his mild,
+humble way.  Feeble you might call him here and there.  And his
+feebleness ended him.  Too feeble to face life without that heartless
+baggage!"
+
+"Leave her alone.  You don't understand that side, and this isn't the
+time to try and make you.  She's hit hard enough."
+
+Humphrey regarded his brother with a blazing glance of rage.  Then his
+features relaxed and he smiled strangely at his own heart, but not at
+Nathan.
+
+"I was forgetting," he said.  Then he relapsed into silence.
+
+Presently he spoke again.
+
+"My Mark wasn't much more than a picture hung on a wall to some people.
+Perhaps he wasn't much more to me.  But you miss the picture if 'tis
+taken down.  I never thought of such a thing happening.  I didn't know
+or guess all that was hidden bottled up in him.  I thought he was
+getting over it; but, lover-like, he couldn't think she'd really gone.
+Then something--the woman herself, I suppose--rubbed it into him that
+there was no more hope; and then he took himself off like this.  For
+such a worthless rag--to think!  And I suppose she'll hear his bell
+next Sunday without turning a hair."
+
+"Don't say that.  She's terribly cut up and distressed.  And I'm sure
+none--none will ever listen to his bell like we used to.  'Twill always
+have a sad message for everybody that knew Mark."
+
+"Humbug and trash!  You'll be the first to laugh and crack your jokes
+and all the rest of it, the day that girl marries.  And the bell
+clashing overhead, and the ashes of him in the ground under.  Let me
+choose the man--let me choose the man when she takes a husband!"
+
+Nathan perceived that his brother did not know the truth.  It was no
+moment to speak of Cora and Ned Baskerville, however.
+
+"I've just come from the inquest," he said.  "Of course 'twas brought
+in 'unsound mind.'"
+
+"Of course--instead of seeing and owning that the only flash of sanity
+in many a life be the resolve and deed to leave it.  He was sane
+enough.  No Baskerville was ever otherwise.  'Tis only us old fools,
+that stop here fumbling at the knot, that be mad.  The big spirits
+can't wait to be troubled for threescore years and ten with a cargo of
+stinking flesh.  They drop it overboard and----"
+
+His foot slipped and interrupted the sentence.
+
+"Take my arm," said the innkeeper.  "I've told Gollop that Mark will
+lie with his mother."
+
+The other seemed suddenly moved by this news.
+
+"If I've misjudged you, Nathan, I'm sorry for it," he said.  "You know
+in your heart whether you're as good as the folk think; and as wise;
+and as worthy.  But you catch me short of sleep to-day; and when I'm
+short of sleep, I'm short of sense, perhaps.  To lie with his
+mother--eh?  No new thing if he does.  He lay many a night under her
+bosom afore he was born, and many a night on it afterwards.  She was
+wonderful wrapped up in him--the only thing she fretted to leave.  How
+she would nuzzle him, for pure animal love, when he was a babby--like a
+cat and her kitten."
+
+"He promised her when he was ten years old--the year she died--that he
+would be buried with her," said Nathan.  "I happen to know that,
+Humphrey."
+
+"Few keep their promises to the dead; but he's dead himself now.
+Burrow down--burrow down to her and put him there beside her--dust to
+dust.  I take no stock in dust of any sort--not being a farmer.  But
+his mother earned heaven, and if he didn't, her tears may float him in.
+To have bred an immortal soul, mark you, is something, even if it gets
+itself damned.  The parent of a human creature be like God, for he's
+had a hand in the making of an angel or a devil."
+
+"Shall we bring Mark back to-night, or shall the funeral start from the
+church?" asked Nathan.
+
+They had now descended the hill and stood at Humphrey's gate.
+
+"Don't worry his bones.  Let him stop where he is till his bed's ready.
+I'm not coming to the funeral."
+
+"Not coming!"
+
+"No.  I didn't go to my wife's, did I?"
+
+"Yes, indeed you did, Humphrey."
+
+"You're wrong there.  A black hat with a weeper on it, and a coat, and
+a mourning hankercher was there--not me.  Bury him, and toll his own
+bell for him, but for God's sake don't let any useful person catch
+their death of cold for him.  Me and his mother--we'll mourn after our
+own fashion.  Yes, her too: there are spirits moving here for the
+minute.  In his empty room she was the night he finished it.  Feeling
+about she was, as if she'd lost a threepenny piece in the bed-tick.  I
+heard her.  'Let be!' I shouted from my chamber.  'The man's not there:
+he's dead--hanged hisself for love in the belfry.  Go back where you
+come from.  Belike he'll be there afore you, and, if not, they'll tell
+you where to seek him.'"
+
+He turned abruptly and went in; then as his brother, dazed and
+bewildered, was about to hurry homeward, the elder again emerged and
+called to him.
+
+"A word for your ear alone," he said as Nathan returned.  "There's not
+much love lost between us, and never can be; but I thank you for coming
+to me to-day.  I know you meant to do a kindly thing.  My trouble
+hasn't blinded me.  Trouble ban't meant to do that.  Tears have washed
+many eyes into clear seeing, as never saw straight afore they shed 'em.
+I'm obliged to you.  You've come to me in trouble, though well you know
+I don't like you.  'Twas a Christian thing and I shan't forget it of
+you.  If ever you fall into trouble yourself, come to me, innkeeper."
+
+"'Twas worth my pains to hear that.  God support you always, brother."
+
+But Humphrey had departed.
+
+Nathan drifted back and turned instinctively to Undershaugh rather than
+his own house.  Darkness and concern homed there also; Cora had gone
+away to friends far from the village, and the Linterns all wore
+mourning for Mark.
+
+Priscilla met her landlord and he came into the kitchen and flung his
+hat on the table and sat down to warm himself by the fire.
+
+"God knows what's going to happen," he said.  "The man's mind is
+tottering.  Never such sense and nonsense was jumbled in a breath."
+
+After a pause he spoke again.
+
+"And poor old Susan's half mad too.  An awful house of it.  Nothing
+Humphrey may do will surprise me.  But one blessed word he said, poor
+chap, though whether he knew what he was talking about I can't guess.
+He thanked me for coming to him in trouble--thanked me even gratefully
+and said he'd never forget it.  That was a blessed thing for me to
+hear, at such a time."
+
+The emotional man shed tears and Priscilla Lintern ministered to him.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+Humphrey Baskerville had sought for peace by many roads, and when the
+final large catastrophe of his life fell upon him, it found him
+treading a familiar path.
+
+He had conceived, that only by limiting the ties of the flesh and
+trampling love of man from his heart, might one approximate to
+contentment, fearlessness, and rest.  He had supposed that the fewer we
+love, the less life has power to torment us, and he had envied the
+passionless, sunless serenity of recorded philosophers and saints.  He
+was glad that, at a time when nature has a large voice in the affairs
+of the individual and sways him through sense, he had not incurred the
+customary responsibilities.
+
+Chance threw him but a single child; and when the mother of the child
+was taken from him, he felt a sort of dreary satisfaction that fate
+could only strike one more vital blow.  He had dwarfed his affections
+obstinately; he had estimated the power of life to inflict further
+master sorrows, and imagined that by the death of one human creature
+alone could added suffering come.  So at least he believed before the
+event.  And now that creature was actually dead.  Out of the ranks of
+man, the bullet had found and slain his son.
+
+Yet, when Mark sank to the grave and the first storm of his passing was
+stilled in the father's heart, great new facts and information, until
+then denied, fell upon Humphrey Baskerville's darkness and showed him
+that even this stroke could not sever his spirit from its kind.
+
+The looked-for deliverance did not descend upon him; the universal
+indifference did not come.  Instead his unrest persisted and he found
+the fabric of his former dream as baseless as all dreaming.  Because
+the alleged saint and the detached philosopher are forms that mask
+reality; they are poses only possible where the soul suffers from
+constitutional atrophy or incurred frost-bite.
+
+They who stand by the wayside and watch, are freezing to death instead
+of burning healthily away.  Faulty sentience is not sublime; to be
+gelded of some natural human instinct is not to stand upon the heights.
+He who lifts a barrier between himself and life, shall be found no more
+than an unfinished thing.  His ambition for detachment is the craving
+of disease; his content is the content of unconsciousness; his peace is
+the peace of the mentally infirm.
+
+A complete man feels; a complete man suffers with all his tingling
+senses; a complete man smarts to see the world's negligences,
+ignorances, brutalities; he endures them as wrongs to himself; and,
+because he is a complete man, he too blunders and adds his errors to
+the sum of human tribulation, even while he fights with all his power
+for the increase of human happiness.
+
+The world's welfare is his own; its griefs are also his.  He errs and
+makes atonement; he achieves and helps others to achieve; he loathes
+the cloister and loves the hearth.  He suffers when society is
+stricken; he mourns when the tide of evolution seems to rest from its
+eternal task 'of pure ablution round earth's human shores'; he is
+troubled when transitory victories fall to evil or ignorance; in fine,
+he lives.  And his watch-tower and beacon is not content, not peace,
+but truth.
+
+He stands as high above the cowardly serenity of any anchorite or
+chambered thinker, as the star above glimmering and rotten wood in a
+forest hidden; and he knows that no great heart is ever passionless, or
+serene, or emparadised beyond the cry of little hearts, until it has
+begun to grow cold.  To be holy to yourself alone is to be nought; a
+piece of marble makes a better saint; and he who quits the arena to
+look on, though he may be as wise as the watching gods, is also as
+useless.
+
+Dimly, out of the cloud of misery that fell upon him when his son
+perished, Baskerville began to perceive and to feel these facts.  He
+had consoled himself by thinking that the only two beings he loved in
+the whole world were gone out of it, and now waited together in
+eternity for his own arrival thither.
+
+Their battle was ended; and since they were at rest, nothing further
+remained for him to trouble about.  But the anticipated peace did not
+appear; no anodyne poured into his soul; and he discovered, that for
+his nature, the isolated mental standpoint did not exist.
+
+There could arise no healing epiphany of mental indifference for him.
+He might be estranged, but to exile himself was impossible.  He must
+always actively hate what he conceived to be evil; he must always
+suspect human motives; he must always feel the flow and ebb of the
+human tide.  Though his own rocky heart might be lifted above them, the
+waves of that sea would tune its substance to throb in sympathy, or
+fret it to beat with antagonism, so long as it pulsed at all.
+
+This discovery surprised the man; for he had believed that a radical
+neutrality to human affairs belonged to him.
+
+He attributed the sustained restlessness of his spirit to recent griefs
+and supposed that the storm would presently disappear; and meantime he
+plunged into a minor whirlwind by falling into the bitterest quarrel
+with his elder brother.
+
+Nathan indeed he had suffered to depart in peace; but as soon as the
+bereaved father learned that Vivian's son, Ned, was engaged to Cora,
+and perceived how it was this fact that had finally killed hope in Mark
+and induced the unhappy weakling to destroy himself, his rage burst
+forth against the master of Cadworthy; and when Vivian called upon the
+evening of the funeral to condole with Humphrey, an enduring strife
+sprang up between them.
+
+"I'm come as the head of the family, Humphrey," began the veteran, "and
+it ban't seemly that this here terrible day should pass over your head
+without any of your kith and kin speaking to you and comforting you.
+We laid the poor young man along with his mother in the second row of
+the Baskerville stones.  My word! as Gollop said after the funeral,
+'even in death the Baskervilles be a pushing family!'  Our slates
+stretch pretty near from the church to the churchyard wall now."
+
+"Thank you for being there," answered his brother.  "I couldn't have
+gone, because of the people.  There was no maiming of the rite--eh?"
+
+"Not a word left out--all as it should be.  Eight young men carried
+him, including a farmer or two, and my son Ned, and Heathman Lintern,
+and also my son Rupert--though where he came from and where he went to
+after 'twas ended, I don't know, and don't care.  He's left me--to
+better himself--so he thinks, poor fool!  A nice way to treat a good
+father."
+
+"You've lost a son, too, then--lost him to find him again, doing man's
+work.  You'll live to know that he was right and you were wrong.  But
+my son--my mind is turned rather rotten of late.  After dark I can't
+get his dead face out of my eyes.  Nought terrible, neither--just, in a
+word, 'dead.'  He broke his neck--he didn't strangle himself.  He knew
+what he was about.  But there, I see it.  Gone--and none knows what he
+was to me.  He never knew himself; and for that matter I never knew
+myself, neither--till he was gone."
+
+"We never do know all other folk mean to us--not until they be snatched
+off.  If anybody had told me how my son Rupert's going would have made
+such a difference, I'd not have believed it."
+
+"Then think of this house.  You feel that--you with your store of
+children and Rupert, after all, but gone a few miles away to go on with
+his work and marry the proper wife you deny him.  But me--nought
+left--nought but emptiness--no 'Good morning, father'; no 'Good night,
+father'; no ear to listen; no voice to ask for my advice.  And I'd
+plotted and planned for him, Vivian; I'd made half a hundred little
+secret plans for him.  I knew well the gentle fashion of man he
+was--not likely ever to make a fighter--and so I'd cast his life in a
+mould where it could be easy.  He'd have come to know in time.  But he
+never did know.  He went out of it in a hurry, and never hinted a
+whisper of what he was going to do.  If he'd but given me the chance to
+argue it out with him!"
+
+"We've acted alike, me and you," answered his brother; "and it ban't
+for any man to dare to say that either of us was wrong.  When the young
+fall into error, 'tis our bounden duty to speak and save 'em if we've
+got the power.  I don't hold with Rupert----"
+
+"No need to drag in your affairs.  That case is very different.  I did
+not treat my son like a child; I did not forbid him to marry and turn
+him out of doors."
+
+"Stay!" cried Vivian, growing red, "you mustn't speak so to me."
+
+"What did you do if it wasn't that?  No proud man can stay under the
+roof where he's treated like a child.  But Mark--did I forbid?  No.  I
+only made it clear that I despised the woman he'd set his heart on.  I
+only told him the bitter truth of her.  If she'd clung to him through
+all, would I have turned him away or refused him?  Never.  'Twould have
+made no difference.  'Twas not me kept 'em apart--as you are trying to
+keep apart your son and Saul Luscombe's niece--trying and failing.
+'Twas the proud, empty, heartless female herself that left him."
+
+"I'll hear nought against her," answered Vivian stoutly.  "She's not
+proud and she's not empty.  She's a very sensible woman, and this cruel
+piece of work has been a sad trouble to her.  She left Mark because she
+felt that you hated her, and would torment her and make her married
+life a scourge to her back.  Any woman with proper sense and
+self-respect would have done the like.  'Twas you and only you choked
+her off your son, and 'tis vain--'tis wicked to the girl--to say now
+that 'twas her fault.  But I've not come to speak these things--only I
+won't hear lies told."
+
+"You've heard 'em already, it seems.  Who's been telling you this
+trash?  Nathan Baskerville belike?"
+
+"As a matter of fact 'tis my son Ned," answered Vivian.  "You must
+surely know how things have fallen out?  It happened long afore poor
+Mark died.  Didn't he tell you?"
+
+"He told me nought.  What should he tell me?  Ned he certainly wouldn't
+name, for he knew of all your brood I like your eldest son least--a
+lazy, worthless man, as all the world well knows but you."
+
+"You shan't anger me, try as you will, Humphrey.  I'm here, as your
+elder brother and the head of the family, to offer sympathy to you in
+your trouble; and I'll ax you to leave my family alone.  Young men will
+be young men, and as for Ned, if I be the only one that feels as I
+should feel to him, 'tis because I'm the only one that understands his
+nature and his gifts.  He'll astonish you yet, and all of us.  The
+books he reads!  You wait.  Soon ripe, soon rotten.  He's taking his
+time, and if he wants a wife, 'tis only in reason that the future head
+of the family should have a wife; and why not?  He shan't have to work
+as I have worked."
+
+"A fool's word!  What made you all you are?  Work and the love of it.
+Yet you let him go to the devil in idleness."
+
+"If you'd but suffer me to finish my speech--I say that Ned won't work
+as I have worked--with my limbs and muscles.  He's got a brain, and the
+time be coming when he'll use it."
+
+"Never."
+
+"Anyway a settled life is the first thing, and the mind free to follow
+its proper bent.  And I don't say 'no' to his marrying, because the
+case is different from Rupert's, and 'tis fitting that he should do so."
+
+"But Rupert must not.  And you pass for a just and sensible man!"
+
+"'Tis strange--something in the Baskerville character that draws
+her--but so it is," continued the master of Cadworthy, ignoring his
+brother's last remark.  "In a word, when he found she was free, my Ned
+took up with Cora Lintern, and she's going to marry him.  But 'tis to
+be a full year from this sad Christmas--I bargained for that and will
+have it so."
+
+"'Going to take him'?  Going to take your son!" cried the other.
+
+"She is; and I sanction it; for I found her a very different maiden to
+what you did."
+
+"Going to marry Ned!  Going from my Mark to your Ned!"
+
+"'Twas settled some time ago.  Mark knew it, for I myself let it out to
+him when I met him one day in North Wood.  'Twas but two days afore his
+last breath, poor fellow.  Of course, I thought that he knew all about
+it, and as it was understood that he had got over his loss very bravely
+and was cheerful and happy as usual again, I made nothing of the
+matter, thinking that was the best way to take it."
+
+Humphrey stared at him.
+
+"Go on--you're letting in the light," he said.
+
+"That's all--all save this.  When I told Mark that Cora was going to
+wed his cousin, I saw by his face 'twas news for him.  His colour faded
+away.  Then I knew that he hadn't heard about it.  Accident had kept it
+from him till the matter was a week old."
+
+"And he said----?"
+
+"He just said something stammering like.  He was a bit of a kick-hammer
+in his speech sometimes--nothing to name; but it would overtake him now
+and again if he was very much excited.  I didn't catch just what the
+words were--something about one of the family having her, I think
+'twas."
+
+"Then he went and killed himself, and not till then.  So 'twas your son
+after all as settled him--don't roar me down, for I'll be heard.  Your
+son--all his work!  He plotted and planned it.  And lazy I thought him!
+And I might have known there's no such thing as laziness of mind and
+body both.  Busy as a bee damning himself--damning himself, I tell you!
+A shifty traitor, a man to stab other men in the back, a knave and the
+vilest thing that ever bore our name.  And you know it--you know it as
+well as I do."
+
+"By God! this is too much," shouted out Vivian, rising to his feet and
+towering over the crouching figure opposite him.  "What are you made of
+to say such vile things of an innocent man?  You see life all awry; you
+see----
+
+"I see a hard-hearted, blind old fool," answered the other.  "You let
+your wretched son rob you of justice and reason and sense and
+everything.  Get hence!  I'll have no more of you.  But your time will
+come; you'll suffer yet; and this godless, useless brute--this
+murderer--will murder you yourself, maybe, or murder your love of
+living at the least.  Wait and watch him a little longer.  He'll bring
+your grey hairs with sorrow to the grave afore he's done with you--take
+my word for that.  And as for me, I'll curse him to his dying day, and
+curse you for breeding him!  Wait and watch what you've done and the
+fashion of man you've let loose on the world; and let them marry--the
+sooner the better--then his punishment's brewed and there's no escape
+from the drinking.  Yes, let him eat and drink of her, for man's hate
+can't wish him a worse meal than that."
+
+He ceased because he was alone.  Vivian had felt a terrible danger
+threatening him, and had fled from it.
+
+"My anger heaved up like seven devils in me," he told his wife
+afterwards.  "If I'd bided a moment longer I must have struck the man.
+So I just turned tail and bolted afore the harm was done.  Not but what
+harm enough be done.  Mad--mad he was by the froth on his lip and the
+light in his eye, and them awful eyebrows twitching like an angry
+ape's.  'Twas more a wild beast in a tantrum than a human.  'Tis all
+over, and no fault of mine.  I'll never speak to thicky horrible
+creature no more so long as I live--never.  And I'll not willingly so
+much as set eyes upon him again."
+
+"A very Pharaoh of a man, no doubt," declared Mrs. Baskerville.  "The
+Lord has hardened his heart against us; but He'll soften it in His own
+good time.  Though for that matter 'tis difficult to see how he can be
+struck again.  His all be took from him."
+
+Vivian considered this saying, but it did not shake his intention.
+
+"He's growed dangerous and desperate, and 'twill be wiser that I see
+him no more," he answered.  "He's flung my sympathy back in my face,
+and that's a sort of blow leaves a bruise that a long life's self can't
+medicine."
+
+"'Twill come right.  Time will heal it," she told him.
+
+But he was doubtful.
+
+"There may not be time," he said.  "The man won't live long at the gait
+he's going--burning away with misery, he is.  And calls himself a
+Christian!  Little enough comfort the poor soul sucks out of Christ."
+
+
+Within a week of this incident Humphrey Baskerville was seeking his
+brother's society again--a thing of all others least likely to have
+happened.  It fell out that he was walking as usual on the waste above
+Hawk House, when he saw his nephew Rupert proceeding hastily along the
+distant road to Cadworthy Farm.  The young man noted him, left his way
+and approached.
+
+"'Tis well I met you, uncle," he said.  "Young Humphrey's just ridden
+over to you with a message from mother.  Then he came on to me.
+There's terrible trouble at home--father, I mean.  You know what he is
+for doing heavy work--work beyond his years, of course.  He was
+shifting grain from the loft, and they found him fallen and insensible
+with a sack on top of him.  I hope to God it ban't very bad.  Mother
+sent off for me, for fear it might be a fatal thing.  And Humphrey says
+my name was on father's lips when they laid him to bed after doctor had
+gone.  He said, 'This be Rupert's fault.  I be driven to this heavy
+work along of him leaving me, and now he's killed me.'  I'm sure I hope
+he'll call that back, for 'tis a terrible thing for me to live under if
+he died."
+
+"I'll come along with you," said Mr. Baskerville; "and as to what your
+father may have spoken in his anger at being stricken down, pay no heed
+to it.  He's like a silly boy over these feats of strength, and he'd
+have shifted the sacks just the same if you'd been there.  The thing he
+said isn't true, and there's an end on it.  He'll be sorry he uttered
+the word when he's better."
+
+They hurried forward and presently stood at the door of Cadworthy.
+
+"You'd best knock afore you enter," said the elder.  "We're both in
+disgrace here, and come as strangers.  I had a difference with your
+father last time we met.  Ned Baskerville is tokened to that woman that
+killed Mark.  I could not hear and keep dumb.  I cursed my brother in
+my rage, and I owe him an apology."
+
+Rupert knocked at the door, and his sister May answered it.  Her
+eyelids were red with tears and her manner agitated.
+
+"How's your father?" asked Humphrey.
+
+"Very bad, uncle.  'Tis a great doubt if he'll get better, doctor says."
+
+"Then be sure he will.  I've come to see him."
+
+Mrs. Baskerville appeared behind May.  She was very pale, but appeared
+collected.
+
+"I'm sorry--terrible sorry," she said.  "I've told dear master that I'd
+sent for Rupert and for you, Humphrey, but he won't see neither of you.
+'Tis no good arguing about it in his state; but I pray God he'll change
+his mind to-morrow."
+
+Rupert kissed his mother.
+
+"Bear up," he said.  "With his strength and great courage he'll weather
+it, please God.  You know where I am--not five mile away.  I'll come
+running the moment he'll see me."
+
+"And ask him to forgive his brother.  I'm sorry I said the things I
+did," declared Humphrey Baskerville.
+
+A pony cart drove up at this moment and Eliza Gollop alighted from it.
+
+She carried a large brown-paper parcel, and a corded box was lifted out
+after her.
+
+"I've come," she said.  "Doctor left a message for me as he went back
+along, and I was ready as usual.  How's the poor man going on?  I'm
+afraid you must not be very hopeful--so doctor said on his way back;
+but where there's life and me there's always hope, as my brother Thomas
+will have it."
+
+Humphrey and his nephew walked slowly away together.  At the confines
+of the farmyard Rupert turned out of the road a little and pointed
+upwards to a window that faced the east.  A white blind was drawn down
+over it.
+
+"That's father's room," he said.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+Jack Head entered the bar of 'The White Thorn,' and was glad to find
+Nathan Baskerville at home.
+
+"I don't want to drink, I want to talk," he said.
+
+"Then come into my room, Jack," answered the innkeeper, and Mr. Head
+followed him into a little chamber known as 'Mr. Nathan's office.'
+
+"I've got together another five pounds," explained the labourer, "and I
+know you'll do for me what you do for all--put it by with the rest.  We
+come to you, Mr. Baskerville, and we trust you with our savings, for
+why?  Because you ban't a lawyer.  You're the poor man's bank, as I
+always say, and I only hope you get your fair share of good for all the
+money you put away to goody for us."
+
+"That's all right, Jack."
+
+Mr. Nathan produced a ledger and turned over the pages.
+
+"This makes twenty to you, and interest three-ten."
+
+He wrote a receipt and handed it to the other.
+
+"Wish I'd got your 'mazing head for figures; and so I should if I'd
+been properly eggicated."
+
+"I shall have some pretty big money on my hands before long, I'm
+afraid," said Nathan gloomily.  "Doctor called coming back from
+Cadworthy.  'Tis all over with my poor brother, I'm afraid."
+
+"My stars--that mighty man to drop amongst us!  Well, he's had a good
+life and full share of fortune."
+
+"His own folly has finished him too--that's the worst of it.  Would be
+doing the young men's work, and did it once too often."
+
+"A fall, so they say.  But none appear to know the rights seemingly."
+
+"Simple enough.  Vivian was carrying oats, and slipped his foot on a
+frosty place.  Down he came with the sack on his back.  He went
+insensible; but by the time young Humphrey, who was along with him, had
+fetched help, Vivian had come to again.  He crept in the house and up
+to his bed.  ''Tis nought,' he told 'em, 'just a shake up; I'll be
+right in the morning.'  But he wasn't.  He couldn't rise, and felt a
+lot of pain to the inwards.  Doctor won't be sure what's gone, but he
+reckons that the poor man's ruptured spleen or liver.  Anyway, he's
+going.  Fading out fast--and suffering, too."
+
+"Such a mountain as him.  I suppose they can't reach the evil.  And
+will all his affairs come down on your shoulders?"
+
+"That is so.  Everything will have to be done by me.  The boys know
+nought of business.  He's a rich man--I know that."
+
+"A great responsibility, but no doubt you're up to it."
+
+"Not that it will be so difficult either," added Nathan, "because all
+his money was invested pretty much as I advised.  His wife is joint
+executor with me; but she knows nothing.  I could have wished he'd
+drawn my brother Humphrey in and made him responsible; but he never was
+sure of Humphrey, I'm sorry to say; and, as bad luck would have it,
+just before Vivian met with this trouble, he had a terrible quarrel
+with Humphrey--so terrible, in fact, that when Humphrey called, after
+the accident, farmer wouldn't see him."
+
+"Nor his son neither.  I took hope from that, for if a man's well
+enough to keep up such a hatred against his own kin, it looks as if he
+was likely to get better."
+
+"I'm afraid not.  I'm going over this afternoon to see him and hear
+about his will.  Please God he'll prove softer.  'Twould be a cruel
+thing if he clouded his great name for justice at the end by striking
+from the grave."
+
+"Where should he strike?"
+
+"Rupert, I mean.  He took Rupert's going terrible to heart, and when
+Rupert wrote very properly last Christmas and offered his father his
+respects, and said as he meant to marry Saul Luscombe's niece next
+spring, Hester tells me that my brother pretty well threw the doors out
+of windows.  He went to Tavistock next day, and there's an ugly fear in
+his wife's mind that he had his will out and tinkered it.  I shall ax
+him this evening, and try to get him to see sense."
+
+
+Elsewhere Hester Baskerville spoke with her husband, and found that he
+already knew what the doctor had advised her to tell him.
+
+"You can spare speech," he said, "I saw it in the man's eyes; and I
+knew it afore he came, for that matter.  I'm not going to get better.
+I'm going to die."
+
+"There's hope still, but not enough to----"
+
+"I'm going to die.  Where's Eliza Gollop?"
+
+"I'll call her."
+
+"You'd best to hot up the milk he ordered.  I'll try to let it down if
+I can.  And give Eliza pen, ink, and paper."
+
+"Don't be writing.  Lie still and let her read to you."
+
+"You needn't be afraid.  My writing was done to Tavistock afore I came
+to grief.  You're all right, and all that have treated me as a father
+should be treated are all right.  There's tons of money.  Where's Ned
+to?"
+
+"He's going to ride in to the surgery for the medicine to stop that
+cruel pain."
+
+"Let Humphrey get it.  And send Ned to me instead of Eliza Gollop.
+'Tis him I want--not her."
+
+She pressed his hand and kissed him, and went out.  The huge form lay
+still, breathing slowly.  A fly, wakened out of hibernation by the heat
+of the fire, buzzed about his face.  He swore, and his scarlet nightcap
+bobbed as he moved painfully.
+
+Ned came in, little liking to be there.  He lacked the spirit and
+mental courage for such a time.
+
+"Kill this blasted fly, will 'e?  Then get pen and ink.  'Tis a very
+old custom in our race, Ned, to write our own epitaphs when we can.
+I've put mine off and off, along of a silly fancy about doing it; but
+the time be ripe, and my head's clear."
+
+"Don't say things like that, father.  You may get better yet.  He's
+going to fetch another doctor to-morrow."
+
+"Let him fetch twenty--they can do nought.  'Tis the last back-heel
+that none ever stand against.  I don't grumble.  I'm only sorry that
+'twas my own son has struck his father.  Death don't matter, but 'tis a
+bitter death to know the fruit of your loins----  His work I was doing:
+let him know that--his work.  An old man doing a young man's work.  If
+Rupert had been here, he'd have been shifting they sacks.  Let none
+deny it.  'Tis solemn truth."
+
+Ned knew the extreme falsity of this impression, but he made no effort
+to contradict his father.
+
+"What I done to Tavistock a month agone, I might have undone afore I
+went," continued the sick man.  "But not now--not when I remember 'twas
+his wickedness has hurried me into my grave.  Where be my son Nathan's
+ship to now?"
+
+"Don't know, father."
+
+"You ought to know, then.  Him that I would see I can't see; and him
+that would see me I won't see."
+
+"You might see him, father, for his peace."
+
+"'Peace'!  Damn his peace!  What peace shall he have that killed his
+own father?  He don't deserve to look upon me again, and he
+shan't--living nor dead--mark that.  Tell your mother that when I'm
+dead, Rupert ban't to see me.  Only the coffin lid shall he see."
+
+The old man snorted and groaned.  Then he spoke again.
+
+"Have you got pen and ink ready?"
+
+"Yes, father."
+
+"Turn to the first leaf of the Bible, then, and see my date."
+
+Ned opened the family register and read the time of his father's birth.
+
+"Born June, died January--and just over the allotted span.  Let me see,
+how shall the stone read?  There's good things on the Baskerville
+stones.  'Sacred to the memory of Vivian Baskerville, of Cadworthy
+Farm, in this parish, yeoman.'  You can begin like that."
+
+"Shall you say anything about being champion of the west country at
+wrestling?" asked Ned.
+
+"No.  That ban't a thing for the grave--at least, perhaps it might be.
+Your uncle, the great musicker, had a fiddle cut 'pon his stone very
+clever.  If 'twas thought that the silver belt could be copied upon my
+slate----  But no, let that pass, 'tis but a small matter."
+
+"Better leave it to us to think about.  Uncle Nathan will know best."
+
+"So he will, then.  And we must work in a rhyme, for certain; but
+first, I've got a fine thought to put down."
+
+Ned waited, pen in hand; then his father continued to dictate:--
+
+"'What it pleased the great I AM'--capital letters for I AM--'what it
+pleased the great I AM to give me in shape of a body in eighteen
+hundred and eighteen, it likewise pleased Him to call home again in
+eighteen hundred and eighty-nine.'  How does that sound?"
+
+"Splendid, father."
+
+"Now there's the rhyme to follow.  I want to work in 'breath' and
+'death' if it can be done.  You ought to be able to do it, seeing all
+the learning you've had and what it cost."
+
+Ned frowned and puzzled.  Then, while Vivian groaned, he had an
+inspiration, and wrote rapidly.
+
+"How's this, father?" he asked.  "It just flashed in my mind."  Then he
+read:--
+
+  "Three score years and ten I kept my breath;
+  So long I felt no fear of Death."
+
+
+"It goes very well, but I haven't got no more fear of death now than
+ever I had.  You must alter that."
+
+Silence fell again and Ned mended his rhyme.
+
+"How would this answer?" he asked:--
+
+  "Three score years and ten I kept my breath
+  And stood up like a man and feared not Death."
+
+
+"Yes, that's very good indeed.  Now us must make two more lines to
+finish--that is, if we can be clever enough to think of 'em."
+
+Ned's pen squeaked and stopped, squeaked and stopped again.  He
+scratched out and wrote for several minutes.
+
+"Listen to this, father," he said at length, "'tis better even than the
+first."  He read once more:--
+
+  "Yet now I'm gone, my thread is spun,
+  And I know my God will say, 'Well done!'"
+
+
+"The cleverness of it!  And didn't I always say you were crammed up
+with cleverness?  But the last line won't do."
+
+"'Tis the best of all, father."
+
+"Won't do, I tell you.  Who be I to know my God will pat me on the
+back?  Little enough to be pleased with--little enough.  Put, 'I hope
+my God will say, "Well done!"'"
+
+"You may only hope, but all else know that He will," declared Ned
+stoutly.
+
+As he finished writing Nathan Baskerville entered with the wife of the
+sufferer.  Hester brought a cup of hot milk, but Vivian in his
+excitement would not taste until the epitaph had been rehearsed.
+
+"Ned's thought," he said.  "And I helped him.  And I shall be proud to
+lie under it--any man might.  Give me the paper."
+
+His son handed it to him, and he read the rhyme aloud with great
+satisfaction.
+
+  "Three score years and ten I kept my breath,
+  And stood up like a man and feared not Death;
+  Yet now I'm gone, my thread is spun,
+  And I hope my God will say, 'Well done!'"
+
+How's that, Nat?  So good as the musicker's own in my judgment."
+
+"Splendid!  Splendid!" declared Nathan.  He was much moved.  He blew
+his nose and went to the window awhile.  Then, Vivian being relieved
+and fed, the innkeeper returned to him and sat beside him.  Hester
+Baskerville and her son went out and left the brothers together.
+
+"Us'll talk business, Nat," said the sick man presently.
+
+"And first I want you to know that you'll have more than your trouble
+for your pains.  'Tis a common thing with dying people to leave a lot
+of work behind 'em for somebody to do, and never a penny piece of
+payment for doing it.  But not me.  There's fifty pound for you, Nat.
+I've scrimped in reason all my life.  I've----"
+
+He was stopped by pain.
+
+"Ban't far off, I reckon.  Can't talk much more.  You'll do all right
+and proper.  I trust my widow and childer to you.  My boy Ned be no
+good at figures, so I look to you."
+
+"To the very best of my power I'll do by them all.  Leave that now.
+You're the sort who isn't taken unprepared.  I want to say a word about
+Rupert, if you'll let me."
+
+"Not a word--not a breath!  That book is closed, not to be opened no
+more.  You don't want to add another pang to my end, do you?  Let me
+forget him.  I've forgiven him--that's enough."
+
+"'Tisn't to forgive him, my dear Vivian, if you have cut him off with
+nought."
+
+"I'll hear no more!" cried the other.  "I'll think no more of him, nor
+yet of Humphrey.  'Tis they have cruelly and wickedly wronged me.  'Tis
+Rupert have brought me here, and hastened me into my grave ten years
+afore the time, and he'll have to answer to his God for it."
+
+"Leave it then--leave it and talk of other things.  You'll like Ned to
+take Cora Lintern?  You'll like that?  And I shall do something for
+Cora.  I'm very fond of her."
+
+They talked for half an hour.  Then Vivian cried out for his wife and
+Nathan left him.
+
+That evening Dennis Masterman came to see the farmer, and on the
+following day he called again.  None knew what passed between them, but
+it seemed that by some happy inspiration the clergyman achieved what
+Vivian Baskerville's wife and brother had failed to do.  Dennis had
+heard, from the master of 'The White Thorn,' that the sick man was
+passing at enmity with his brother and with his son; but he strove
+successfully against this determination and, before he left Cadworthy,
+Vivian agreed to see his relations.  The day was already waning when
+Ned Baskerville himself rode to fetch Rupert, and the lad Humphrey
+hastened to Hawk House.
+
+Eliza Gollop told the sequel to her brother afterwards.
+
+"It got to be a race towards the end, for the poor man fell away all of
+a sudden after three o'clock.  Nature gived out, as it will sometimes,
+like a douted candle.  He'd forgot all about everything afore he died.
+Only his grave stuck in his mind, and I read over the epitaph till I
+was weary of it.  Then he went frightened all of a sudden.  'To think
+o' me lying there alone among dead folk of evenings, wi' nought but the
+leather-birds[1] squeaking over the graves,' he said.  'You won't be
+there, my dear,' I told him.  'You'll be up where there's no sun nor
+yet moon, bathing for evermore in the light of righteousness.'  Then he
+flickered and he flickered, and wandered in his speech, and the last
+words I could catch was, 'What's all this pucker about?  I shall be my
+own man again in a day or two.'  He was hollow-eyed and his nose growed
+so sharp as a cobbler's awl, poor dear, and I knowed he'd soon be out
+of his misery.  His wife was along with him when he died, her and the
+two daughters; and poor Hester--Hester I call her, for she let me use
+the Christian name without a murmur--she was cut in half listening to
+his death-rattle o' one side and hoping to hear her son Rupert gallop
+up 'pon the other.  'Twas a race, as I say; but Rupert had been long
+ways off to work, and Ned had to find him, and what with one thing and
+another, his father had been out of the world twenty good minutes afore
+he came.  He runned up the stairs white from the clay-works.  But there
+was only more clay on the bed to welcome him.  I left 'em at that
+sacred moment, as my custom is, and went down house, and was just in
+time to see Humphrey Baskerville ride up in hot haste on his one-eyed
+pony.  'How is it with him?' he said, getting off very spry.  'I hope,
+as he could send for me, that he finds hisself better.'  'Not at all,'
+I answered him.  'The poor man sent because he was worse, and felt
+himself slipping away.'  'Then I'd best be quick,' he replied to me;
+and I broke it to him that 'twas too late.  'He's gone, sir,' I said.
+'Like the dew upon the fleece he be gone.  Half an hour ago he died,
+and suffered very little at the end, so far as a mortal but experienced
+woman can tell you.'  He stared slap through me, in that awful way he
+has, then he turned his back and got up on his beast and rode off
+without a word or a sign.  Lord, He knows what that old pony must have
+thought of it all.  'Twas sweating and staggering, and, no doubt, full
+of wonder and rage at being pushed along so fast."
+
+
+[1] _Leather-birds_--bats.
+
+
+
+END OF FIRST BOOK
+
+
+
+
+BOOK II
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+Upon the highway between Cadworthy and the border village of Cornwood
+there stands an ancient granite cross.  For many years the broken head
+reposed in the heather; then it was lifted upon the pedestal again and
+the vanished shaft restored.  To north and south the white road sweeps
+by it; easterly tower Penshiel and Pen Beacon, and westerly rolls
+Shaugh Moor.
+
+Here, upon a day one year after the death of Vivian Baskerville, there
+met two of his sons, and the conversation that took place between them
+served roughly to record the development of their affairs, together
+with the present situation and future interests of the family.
+
+Ned Baskerville was riding home from Cornwood, and his brother Rupert,
+knowing that he must come this way, sat by St. Rumon's Cross, smoked
+his pipe and waited.  The younger had found himself forgotten when his
+father's will came to be read.  It was a pious fiction with Hester
+Baskerville that her husband had striven, when too late, against his
+own hasty deed.  She believed that near his end the dying man attempted
+to repair this wrong.  She declared that his eyes and his mutterings
+both spoke to that effect.
+
+But the fact of disinheritance was all that remained for Rupert to
+face, and in his bitterness he had turned from his family and continued
+to toil at the china-clay works, despite his mother's entreaties and
+Ned's handsome propositions.
+
+Now, however, the case was altered.  After nine months of this
+unwisdom, Milly prevailed with Rupert to go back to Cadworthy and take
+her with him.  His mother was thankful to welcome him home, and Ned did
+what he might to further the prospect.
+
+Rupert stood within sight of marriage, and he and his wife were
+presently to dwell at Cadworthy.  Then control of the farm would be
+made over by Ned Baskerville to his brother.
+
+Now Rupert, in working clothes, sat by the cross.  Opportunity to see
+Ned was not always easy, for the elder lived a life of pure pleasure
+and occupied much of his time from home.  He was only concerned to
+spend money, but showed no interest in the sciences of administering
+and making it.
+
+He rode up presently, stopped, and, bending over, shook hands with his
+brother, but did not dismount.
+
+"Hullo!  Don't often see you smoking and taking your ease.  Look at my
+new mare.  Isn't she a beauty?  But Lord knows what Uncle Nathan will
+say when I come down upon him for the cash.  And I've got another
+unpleasant surprise in store for him.  I've bought a horse for Cora.
+It'll be my wedding-present to her, but she may as well have it now."
+
+"Pity we couldn't have all been married together; then one fuss and
+flare up and expense would have done for the lot of us."
+
+"I shouldn't have minded; but she didn't take to the idea at all.
+Wants to have a first-prize wedding all to herself.  And about time
+too.  I'm sick of waiting."
+
+As a matter of fact Ned had found no difficulty in suspense.  With
+possession of money, life's boundaries considerably enlarged for him,
+and he became a person of increased importance.
+
+Cora was not jealous, and finding Ned extremely generous, she continued
+content with the engagement.  The present year was to see her married,
+however; but when Nathan Baskerville suggested a triple wedding, Cora
+objected very strongly.  She intended that her nuptials should be in a
+style considerably grander than those of Milly Luscombe, or Polly
+Baskerville; but she finally promised Ned to marry him during the
+following autumn.
+
+"A nice mare," admitted Rupert; "she's got a temper, though--won't
+carry beer.  I know the man who used to own her.  She very near broke
+his neck for him the night after Cornwood revel."
+
+"The horse isn't foaled that will ever throw me, I believe."
+
+"I reckon not.  Well, I'm here to meet you, Ned.  I want to run over
+the ground.  You hate business so bad that 'tis difficult to talk about
+it with you; but, all the same, as a man with money you must think a
+bit."
+
+"Uncle Nathan thinks for me.  He was paid to.  Didn't father leave him
+fifty pounds to be trustee, or whatever 'tis?"
+
+"But you never will look ahead.  Uncle Nathan, since that bad bout of
+health last winter, isn't what he was.  Clever enough, I grant; but he
+has got his own affairs, and his own worries too, for that matter.
+Everything be safe and proper in his hands; but suppose he fell ill?
+Suppose he was to die?"
+
+"You're such a beggar for supposing.  Never meet troubles
+half-way--that's my rule, and I've found it work very well too.  I
+trust Uncle Nathan like the rest of the world trusts him.  I sign his
+blessed papers and I get my quarter's allowance very regular, with a
+bit of money over and above when I want it, though he grumbles.  I ask
+for no more but to be allowed to enjoy life as long as I can."
+
+"I'm going to do this anyway," said Rupert.  "I'll tell you my hopes
+and plans.  'Tis right and wise to make plans and look ahead and set
+yourself a task.  And my task be to get Cadworthy Farm away from you
+for my own in twenty years from the time I go there."
+
+"I shan't object--be sure of that.  'Tisn't likely I'd make hard terms
+with my own brother.  You go in as my tenant at just what rent you
+please to pay in reason; and you pay me as much over and above the rent
+as you can afford till the price of the farm is polished off.  And
+mother stops with you, and May stops with you.  Mother has her
+allowance and May has hers, so they'll be no charge on you.  And I stop
+too--till I'm married."
+
+"That's all clear, then."
+
+"Yes; and what I'm going to do is this.  It seems there are things
+called sleeping partnerships--jolly convenient things too.  All you do
+is to find a good, safe, established business that wants a bit of cash.
+And you put your cash in, and just go to the business once in a blue
+moon and sign your name in a book or two and draw your fees, and there
+you are!  Uncle Nathan's on the look-out for some such a thing for a
+bit of my money.  And I hope it will be in Plymouth for choice, because
+Cora's frightfully keen to be near Plymouth.  She wants to make some
+decent woman pals, naturally.  It's ridiculous such a girl messing
+about in a hole like Shaugh.  She hinted at a shop, but I won't have
+that for a moment."
+
+"All the same, I don't see why you shouldn't try and look out for
+something that would give you a bit of work.  Work won't hurt her or
+you.  You must be pretty well sick of doing nothing by this time, I
+should think."
+
+"Far from it," declared Ned.  "I find myself quite contented.  I shall
+turn my hand to work presently.  No hurry that I can see.  I'm learning
+a lot, remember that.  A great learner I am.  The first use of money is
+to learn the world, Rupert.  That's where that old fool at Hawk House
+has messed up his life.  No better than a miser, that man.  A
+spendthrift may be a fool, but a miser always is.  And so it comes back
+to the fact that Uncle Humphrey's a fool, as I always said he was--a
+fool and a beast both."
+
+"He's different enough from Uncle Nathan, I grant you--can't be soft or
+gentle; but he's no fool, and though he pretends he's not interested in
+people, he is.  Things slip out.  Look how he reads the newspapers."
+
+"Yet now, for very hatred of all human beings--it can't be for anything
+else--'tis rumoured he'll leave Hawk House and get away from the sight
+of roads even.  Susan Hacker told mother, not a week agone, that he was
+getting restless to go farther off.  Pity he don't go and stick his
+head in Cranmere, and choke himself, and leave you and me and a few
+other dashing blades to spend his money.  We ought to be his heirs--all
+of us.  But we shan't see the colour of his cash, mark me."
+
+"You won't.  He hates your way of life.  But he's got no quarrel with
+the rest of us.  You never know with a man like him.  I'm going over to
+him now; and I've got a tale of a chap that's broke his legs.  He may
+give me five shillings for the man's wife.  He's done it before to-day.
+'Tis in him to do kind things, only there's no easy outlet for 'em.
+Keeps his goodness bottled up, as if he was afraid of it."
+
+"You've got his blind eye, I reckon," said Ned.  "It's all up with me
+anyway.  I look t'other way when I pass him.  He'll never forgive me
+for marrying Cora."
+
+"Well, you'd best to go on and not keep your horse dancing about no
+longer."
+
+Ned galloped off, and his brother, having sat a little longer by St.
+Rumon's Cross, rose and struck over Shaugh Moor in the direction of
+Humphrey Baskerville's dwelling.
+
+The old man was expecting his nephew and came upon the waste to meet
+him.  They had not spoken together for many days and Rupert was glad to
+see the elder again.
+
+A year had stamped its record upon Humphrey Baskerville, and the
+significance of his son's death might now be perceived.  Mark's passing
+left a permanent scar, but the expected callosity of spirit by no means
+overtook the sufferer.
+
+Man, if he did not delight him, bulked upon his mind as the supreme
+experience.  It was an added tribulation that, upon his brother's
+estrangement and death, one of the few living beings with whom he
+enjoyed the least measure of intimacy had dropped out of his life.
+
+And now he became increasingly sensitive to the opinion of the people
+and developed a morbidity that was new.
+
+Mrs. Hacker was his frank intelligencer, and more than once he smarted
+to hear her tell how sensible men had spoken ill of him.
+
+Now he fell into talk with Rupert and uttered the things uppermost in
+his mind.
+
+"Well enough in body, but sometimes I doubt if my brain's all it used
+to be.  Mayhap in the head is where I'll go first."
+
+Rupert laughed.  "Not much fear of that, uncle."
+
+"You must know," answered the other, "that every man in this life has
+to suffer a certain amount of injustice.  From the king on his throne
+to the tinker in his garret, there are thorns stuffed in all pillows.
+Human nature misunderstands itself at every turn, and the closest,
+life-long friends often catch their secret hearts full of wonder and
+surprise at each other.  But I--I've had more than my share of that.
+The injustice that's heaped upon me is insufferable at times.  And why?
+Because I don't carry my heart on my sleeve, and won't palter with
+truth at the world's bidding."
+
+"'Tis only fools laugh at you or grumble at you."
+
+"You're wrong there," answered Humphrey.  "The scorn of fools and the
+snarl of evil lips are a healthy sign.  There are some men and some
+dogs that I would rather bark at me than not.  But how is it that wise
+men and understanding men hold aloof and say hard things and look
+t'other way when I pass by?"
+
+"Lord knows," answered Rupert.  "They'm too busy to think for
+themselves, I suppose, and take the general opinion that you're
+rather--rather unsociable.  You do many and many a kind thing, but they
+ban't known."
+
+"No I don't.  I can't--'tisn't my nature.  Kind things are often
+terrible silly things.  Leave your Uncle Nathan to do the kind things.
+He did a kind thing when my son died; and I felt it.  For warmth of
+heart there never was such another.  The trouble that man takes for
+people is very fine to see.  I'm not saying he's wise.  In fact, I
+don't think he is wise.  To do other folks' work for 'em and shelter
+'em from the results of their own folly is to think you know better
+than God Almighty."
+
+"He's wonderful good, I'm sure.  A godsend to my mother.  Taken all the
+business over for her.  When father died----"
+
+"Leave that.  Keep on about his character," said Humphrey.  "There's
+nought so interesting to a man like me as burrowing into human nature
+and trying the works.  Now, in your Uncle Nathan you see one that has
+the cleverness to make nearly every human being like him and trust him.
+But how does he get his hold on the heart?  Is it by shutting his eyes
+to what people really are, like I shut my ears to Jack Head's arguments
+against the Bible; or is it by sheer, stupid, obstinate goodness, that
+can't see the weakness and folly and wickedness and craft of human
+beings?"
+
+"He puts a large trust in his fellow-creatures," answered Rupert.  "He
+believes everybody is good till he's proved 'em bad."
+
+Humphrey nodded.
+
+"True enough, and I'll tell you what that means in Nathan.  The real
+secret of sympathy in this world is to be a sinner yourself.  There's
+no end to the toleration and forgiveness and large-mindedness of
+people, if they know in their own hearts that they be just as bad.  A
+wise man hedges, and never will be shocked at anything--why?  Because
+he says, 'I may be found out too, some day.'"
+
+He broke off and his nephew spoke.
+
+"I know you're just as kind, really.  By the same token I've come
+begging to-day.  A poor Cornwood chap has had a bad accident.  Market
+merry he was and got throwed off his pony.  He's in hospital with both
+legs broke and may not recover, and his wife and four children----"
+
+"What about his club?"
+
+"He wasn't a member of a club."
+
+"What's his name?"
+
+"Coombes."
+
+"Drunk too?  And you ask me to take my money and help that sort of man?
+But I won't."
+
+"Perhaps, in strict justice, he don't deserve it; but----"
+
+"Did you ask your Uncle Nathan for him?"
+
+"Yes.  It shows the difference between you, I suppose."
+
+"He gave?"
+
+"He gave me ten shillings.  There's a nice point to argify about.
+Which of you was right, Uncle Humphrey--you or Uncle Nat?  You can't
+both be right."
+
+"We can both be right and both be wrong," answered the old man.
+
+"Uncle Nat was preaching at the chapel a bit ago, afore he had his
+illness; and me and Milly went to hear him."
+
+"He preaches, does he?"
+
+"Now and again--to work off his energy, he says.  But never no more
+will he.  His voice won't stand it, he says.  He chose for his text a
+question, and he said 'twas a simple and easy thing, afore we took any
+step in life, to ax ourselves and say, what would the Lord do?"
+
+"Simple enough to ask--not so simple to answer."
+
+"He seemed to think 'twas as simple to answer as to ask."
+
+"His brain isn't built to see the difficulties.  Jack Head laughs at
+all these here Tory Christians.  He says that a man can no more be a
+Tory and a Christian than he can walk on water.  He says, flat out,
+that Christ was wrong here and there--right down wrong.  Mind, I don't
+say so; but Head will argue for it very strong if you'll let him."
+
+"Uncle Nat wouldn't hear of that."
+
+"Nor would I.  I've got as much faith as my brother.  And as to what
+Christ would do or would not do in any given case, 'tis a matter for
+very close reasoning, because we act only seeing the outside of a
+puzzle; He would act seeing the inside.  To say that we always know
+what the Lord would do, is to say we're as wise as Him.  To go to the
+Bible for an answer to trouble is right enough though.  'Tis like a
+story I read in a wise book a few nights agone; for I've taken to
+reading a terrible lot of books lately.  It told how two fellows fell
+out and fought like a pair of martin-cats over a bit of ground.  Each
+said 'twas his, and presently they carried their trouble to a wise
+king, as reigned over a near nation, and was always happy to talk sense
+to anybody who had the time to listen.  So to the neighbour kingdom
+they went, and yet never got to the king at all.  And why not?
+Because, so soon as they were in his land, they found the spirit and
+wisdom of him working like barm in bread throughout the length and
+breadth of the place.  They saw peace alive.  They saw the people
+living in brotherly love and unity and understanding.  They saw the
+religion of give and take at work.  They saw travellers yielding the
+path to each other; they saw kindness and goodness and patience the
+rule from the cradle to the grave; and they felt so terrible ashamed of
+their own little pitiful quarrel that they dursn't for decency take it
+afore the throne, but made friends there and then and shared the strip
+of earth between 'em.  And so 'tis with the Bible, Rupert: you bring a
+trouble into the Lord's kingdom and you'll find, in the clear light
+shining there, that it quickly takes a shape to shame you."
+
+"'Tis pretty much what Uncle Nat said in other words.  But didn't it
+ought to make you give me ten shillings for Coombes?"
+
+"'Tisn't for us to stand between the State and its work."
+
+"But his wife and children?"
+
+"The sins of the fathers are visited on the children.  Who are we to
+come between God Almighty and His laws?"
+
+Rupert shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"Christ Almighty would have done--what?" asked Mr. Baskerville.
+
+Rupert reflected.
+
+"He'd have done something, for certain.  Why, of course!  He'd have
+healed the man's broken legs first!"
+
+"And that's what mankind is doing as best it can."
+
+"And if the man dies?"
+
+"Then the State will look after his leavings."
+
+"You're justice itself," said Rupert; "but man's justice be frosty
+work."
+
+"That's right enough.  Justice and mercy is the difference between God
+and Christ.  The one's a terrible light to show the way and mark the
+rock and point the channel through the storm; but 'twill dazzle your
+eyes if you see it too close, remember.  And t'other's to the cold
+heart what a glowing fire be to the cold body."
+
+"And I say that Uncle Nathan's just that--a glowing, Christlike sort of
+man," declared the younger fervently.
+
+"Say so and think so," answered his uncle.  "He stands for mercy; and
+I'll never say again that he stands for mercy, because he knows he'll
+stand in need of mercy.  I'll never say that again.  And I stand for
+justice, and hope I'll reap as I have sowed--neither better nor worse.
+But between my way and Nathan's way is yet another way; and if I could
+find it, then I should find the thing I'm seeking."
+
+"The way of justice and mercy together, I suppose you mean?"
+
+"I suppose I do.  But I've never known how to mix 'em and keep at peace
+with my own conscience.  Justice is firm ground; mercy is not.  Man
+knows that very well.  We may please our fellow-creatures with it; but
+for my part, so far as I have got till now, I'm prone to think that
+mercy be God's work only--same as vengeance is.  For us 'tis enough
+that we try to be just, and leave all else in higher hands.  Life ban't
+a pretty thing, and you can't hide its ugliness by decorating it with
+doubtful mercies, that may look beautiful to the eye but won't stand
+the stark light of right."
+
+"Justice makes goodness a bit hard at the edges, however," answered his
+nephew.  "And when all's said, if mercy be such treacherous ground, who
+can deny that justice may give way under us too now and again?"
+
+They now stood at the door of Hawk House.
+
+"Enter in," said Mr. Baskerville.  "You argue well, and there's a lot
+in what you say.  And words come all to this, as the rivers come all to
+the sea, that we know nothing, outside Revelation.  And now let's talk
+about your affairs.  When is your marriage going to be?  Has Milly
+Luscombe said she wants me to come to it?  Answer the truth."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+Dennis Masterman took the opportunity that offered after a service to
+meet his parish clerk and perambulate the churchyard.  For the vicar's
+sister had pointed out that the burying-ground of St. Edward's was
+ill-kept and choked with weeds.
+
+Overhead the bells made mighty riot.  Two weddings had just been
+celebrated, and the ringers were doing their best.
+
+"With spring here again, this place will be a scandal," said Dennis.
+"You must set to work in earnest, Gollop, and if it's more than you can
+do single-handed, you'd better get help."
+
+"Hay is hay," answered the other; "and the Reverend Valletort was above
+any fidgets like what some people suffer from nowadays.  He had the
+churchyard hay as his right in his opinion, and, given a good year, us
+made a tidy little rick for him.  'All flesh is grass,' he used to say
+in his wise fashion, 'and grass is not the less grass because it comes
+off a man's grave.'"
+
+"I think differently.  To make hay in a churchyard, Thomas, is very bad
+form, and shows a lack of proper and delicate feeling.  Anyway, there's
+to be a thorough clean-up.  We've got a lot of very interesting graves
+here, and when people come and ask to see the churchyard I don't like
+wading through a foot of weeds.  Where's the famous tomb with the music
+book and bass viol on it?  I wanted to show it to a man only last week,
+and couldn't find it."
+
+Mr. Gollop led the way and indicated a slate amid the Baskerville
+monuments.
+
+"There 'tis.  A riddle and an open book; and the book actually had a
+bit of the Old Hundredth--the music, I mean--scratched on it when first
+'twas set up.  But time have eaten that off, I believe.  He was a fine
+fiddler in the days afore the organs was put in the church, and then he
+had to go; and he soon died after the joy of playing on Sundays was
+taken from him.  He made up his verse himself."
+
+Mr. Gollop drew back the herbage from this slate and read out the rhyme
+half hidden beneath.
+
+  "'Praises on tombs are to no purpose spent,
+  A man's good name is his own monument.'
+
+
+"But a good name don't last as long as a good slate, when all's said.
+There's Vivian Baskerville's stone, you see.  'Tis a great addition to
+the row, and cost seven pounds odd.  And there lieth the suicide, as
+should be yonder if justice had been done.  But Humphrey Baskerville
+don't mean to take his place in the family row.  Like him, that is.
+Won't even neighbour with his fellow dust."
+
+"You oughtn't to repeat such nonsense, Gollop."
+
+"Nonsense or no nonsense, 'tis the truth.  Here's the place he's
+chosen, and bought it, too, right up in this corner, away from
+everybody; and his gravestone is to turn its back upon t'other dead
+folk--like he's always turned his back upon the living."
+
+Mr. Gollop indicated a lonely corner of the churchyard.
+
+"That's where he's going to await the trump."
+
+"Well, that's his business, poor man.  He's a good Christian, anyway."
+
+"If coming to church makes him so, he may be; but Christian is as
+Christian does in my opinion.  Show me a man or beast as be the better
+for Humphrey Baskerville, and I'll weigh up what sort of Christian he
+may be."
+
+"Judge nobody; but get this place respectable and tidy.  No half
+measures, Gollop.  And you'll have to work out all those unknown mounds
+with a pair of shears.  They are running together, and will disappear
+in a year or two.  And that pile of broken slates in the corner had
+better be carted away altogether.  You ought to know the graves they
+belong to, but of course you don't."
+
+"No, I don't, and more don't any other living man.  I ban't God
+Almighty, I believe.  'Tis Miss Masterman have put you on to harrying
+me out of my seven senses this way, and I wish she'd mind her own
+business and let me mind mine."
+
+"No need to be insolent.  I only ask you to mind your own business.  If
+you'd do that we should never have a word."
+
+Mr. Gollop grunted rudely.  When conquered in argument he always
+reserved to himself, not the right of final speech, but the licence of
+final sound.  On these occasions he uttered a defiant, raucous
+explosion, pregnant with contempt and scorn, then he hurried away.  At
+times, under exceptional stress, he would also permit himself an
+offensive gesture before departing.  This consisted in lifting his
+coat-tail and striking the part of his person that occurred beneath it.
+But such an insult was reserved for his acquaintance; obviously it
+might not be exploited against the vicar of the parish.
+
+Now Gollop marched off to 'The White Thorn,' and Masterman, turning,
+found that the man of whom they had recently spoken walked alone not
+far off.  Dennis instantly approached him.  It was his wish to know
+this member of his congregation better, but opportunity to do so had
+been denied.  Now there was no escape for Humphrey Baskerville, because
+the minister extended his hand and saluted him.
+
+"How do you do, Mr. Baskerville?  Glad to see you.  A pretty pair of
+weddings, and two very popular young couples, I fancy."
+
+Humphrey admitted it.
+
+"There's no better or harder working man about here than my nephew
+Rupert Baskerville," he said.
+
+"So I understand.  Not much of a church-goer, though, I'm afraid.
+However, perhaps he'll come oftener now.  The bells make the tower
+shake, I do believe.  We've never had the tenor bell rung like your son
+rang it, Mr. Baskerville."
+
+The old man shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"I always fancy so; but then, I've a right to fancy so.  I was his
+father.  No doubt 'tis folly.  One pair of hands can pull a rope as
+well as another.  But 'as the heart thinketh, so the bell clinketh,'
+though the heart of man is generally wrong.  My son would have done his
+best to-day, no doubt, though such was his nature that he'd sooner toll
+alone than peal in company."
+
+"Are you going to the wedding breakfast?"
+
+"Yes; not that they really want me.  'Twas only because the boys and
+girls wouldn't take 'no' for an answer that I go.  I doubt whether
+they're in earnest.  But I'm glad to be there too."
+
+"Who was the fine young brown fellow in the Baskerville pew beside Mrs.
+Baskerville?"
+
+"Nathan Baskerville the younger.  Called after my brother, the
+innkeeper.  He's just off the sea for a bit."
+
+"A handsome man."
+
+"He is for certain."
+
+"Well, I'm very glad to meet you.  I was telling Gollop that our graves
+are not worthy of us.  We must make the churchyard tidier."
+
+They had reached the lich-gate and Dennis held Mr. Baskerville's pony
+while he mounted it.
+
+"Thank you," said the elder.
+
+"By the way, I've never called at Hawk House, because I've been told
+you wouldn't care about it."
+
+"As to that, 'tisn't whether I'd care or not, 'tis whether you ought to
+call or not."
+
+"You're right.  Then come I shall.  How about next Friday?"
+
+"I shall be there."
+
+"I hear you're a great reader, Mr. Baskerville.  I might lend you some
+of my books--and gladly would do so, if you'd care to have them."
+
+"Thank you, I'm sure.  A kindly thought in you.  'Tis no great art to
+think kindly; but let the thought blossom out into a deed and it grows
+alive.  Yes, I read a lot now since my son died.  Jack Head is a
+reading man, likewise; but he reads terrible dangerous books.  He lent
+me one and I burnt it.  Yes, I burnt it, and told him so."
+
+"Probably you were right."
+
+"No, I wasn't.  He showed me very clearly that I was wrong.  You can't
+burn a book.  A bad book once out in the world is like a stone once
+flung--it belongs to the devil.  Not but what Jack Head says many
+things that can't be answered--worse luck."
+
+"I wish he'd bring his difficulties to me."
+
+"You needn't wish that.  _He's_ got no difficulties.  _He's_ going with
+the wind and tide.  'Tis you, not him--'tis you and me, and the likes
+of us--that will be in difficulties afore long.  I see that plain
+enough.  'Tis idle to be blind.  I shall die a Christian, and so will
+you, and so belike will your childer, if ever you get any; but all's in
+a welter of change now, and very like your grandchilder will think
+'twas terrible funny to have a parson for a grandfather.  Jack Head
+says they'll put stuffed curates in the British Museum afore three
+generations."
+
+"A free-thought wave," said Dennis.  "Be under no concern, Mr.
+Baskerville.  Christianity is quite unassailable.  Remember the Rock
+it's founded on."
+
+"'Tis the rock it will split on be the thing to consider.  However, if
+you've got any books that stand for our side, I shall thank you to lend
+'em to me.  Jack's had it all his own way of late."
+
+"I'll bring some," declared Masterman.
+
+They parted, and Humphrey trotted off on his pony.
+
+Meantime at 'The White Thorn' a considerable gathering had met to
+discuss the weddings, and Nathan Baskerville, his namesake, the sailor,
+Heathman Lintern, Joe Voysey, and others enjoyed a morning drink.  For
+some the entertainment was now ended, but not a few had been bidden to
+the feast at Cadworthy, where a double banquet was planned, and many
+would soon set out on foot or in market-carts for the farm.
+
+"One may hope for nought but good of these here weddings," said Voysey.
+"There's only one danger in my judgment, and that is for two of the
+young people to set up living with the bridegroom's mother; but Rupert
+ban't Hester Baskerville's favourite son, I believe.  If he was it
+certainly wouldn't work.  The poor chap would be pulled in two pieces
+between mother and wife.  However, if the mother ban't jealous of him,
+it may do pretty well."
+
+"When Master Ned marries, he'll have to go a bit further off," said the
+innkeeper.
+
+"How is it brother Ned ban't married a'ready?" asked the younger
+Nathan.  "Why, 'tis more than a year agone since I heard from my sister
+that he was going to marry Heathman's sister, and yet nothing done.
+I'd make her name the day jolly quick if 'twas me."
+
+Heathman laughed and shook his head.
+
+"No, you wouldn't, Nat.  You don't know Cora.  None will hurry her if
+she's not minded to hurry.  Ned has done what he could, and so have
+I--and so has my mother.  But she's in no haste.  Likes being engaged
+and making plans, getting presents, and having a good time and being
+important."
+
+"The autumn will see them married, however," declared Mr. Baskerville.
+"I've told Master Ned that he'll have to draw in his horns a bit, for
+he's not made of money, though he seems to think so.  'Twill be his
+best economy to marry pretty quick and settle down.  Never was a man
+with wilder ideas about money; but Cora's different.  She's a woman
+with brains.  He'll do well to hand her over the purse."
+
+"She wants to start a shop at Plymouth," said Heathman.  "A shop for
+hats and women's things.  But Ned's against it.  He says she shan't
+work--not while he can help it; and as he certainly won't work himself
+while he can help it, we must hope they've got tons of money."
+
+"Which they have not," answered Nathan Baskerville.  "And the sooner
+Ned understands that and gives ear to me, the better for his peace of
+mind."
+
+Mr. Gollop entered at this moment.  He was ruffled and annoyed.
+
+"That man!" he moaned, "that headstrong, rash man will be the death of
+me yet.  Of course, I mean Masterman.  Won't let the dead rest in their
+graves now.  Wants the churchyard turned into a pleasure-ground
+seemingly.  Must be mowing and hacking and tacking and trimming; and no
+more hay; and even they old holy slates in the corner to be carted off
+as if they was common stones."
+
+"Lie low and do nought," advised Joe Voysey.  "'Tis a sort of fever
+that takes the gentleman off and on.  He catches the fit from his
+sister.  She'll be down on me sometimes, with all her feathers up and
+everything wrong.  I must set to that instant moment and tidy the
+garden for my dear life, till not a blade be out of place.  Likes to
+see the grass plot so sleek as a boy's head after Sunday pomatum.  But
+the way is to listen with all due and proper attention, as becomes us
+afore our betters, and then--forget it.  The true kindness and charity
+be to let 'em have their talk out, and even meet 'em in little things
+here and there--if it can be done without loss of our self-respect.
+But we understand best.  Don't you never forget that, Thomas.  Where
+the yard and the garden be concerned, you and me must be first in the
+land.  They be children to us, and should be treated according.  We've
+forgot more than they ever knowed about such things."
+
+Others came and went; Joe and Thomas matured their Fabian tactics;
+Nathan Baskerville, with his nephew and young Lintern, set off in a
+pony trap for Cadworthy.  The bells still rioted and rang their
+ceaseless music; for these new-made wives and husbands were being
+honoured with the long-drawn, melodious thunder of a full five-bell
+'peal.'
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+Cora Lintern waited for Ned Baskerville at the fork of the road above
+Shaugh.  Here, in the vicarage wall, the stump of a village cross had
+been planted.  Round about stitchwort flashed its spring stars, and
+foxgloves made ready, while to the shattered symbol clung ivy tighter
+than ever lost sinner seeking sanctuary.
+
+Upon a stone beneath sat the woman in Sunday finery, and she was
+beautiful despite her garments.  They spoke of untutored taste and a
+mind ignorantly attracted by the garish and the crude.  But her face
+was fair until examined at near range.  Then upon the obvious beauty,
+like beginning of rust in the leaf, there appeared delicate signs of
+the spirit within.  Her eyes spoke unrest and her mouth asperity.  The
+shadow of a permanent line connected her eyebrows and promised a
+network too soon to stretch its web, woven by the spiders of
+discontent, upon her forehead.
+
+Cora built always upon to-morrow, and she suffered the fate of those
+that do so.  She was ambitious and vain, and she harboured a false
+perspective in every matter touching her own welfare, her own desert,
+and her own position in the world.  She largely overrated her beauty
+and her talents.  She was satisfied with Ned Baskerville, but had
+ceased to be enthusiastic about him.  A year of his society revealed
+definite limitations, and she understood that though her husband was
+well-to-do, he would never be capable.  The power to earn money did not
+belong to him, and she rated his windy optimisms and promises at their
+just value.  She perceived that the will and intellect were hers, and
+she knew that, once married, he would follow and not lead.  The
+advantage of this position outweighed the disadvantages.  She desired
+to live in a town, and rather favoured the idea of setting up a shop,
+to be patronised by the local leaders of rank and fashion.  She loved
+dress, and believed herself possessed of much natural genius in matters
+sartorial.
+
+At present Ned absolutely refused any suggestion of a shop; but she
+doubted not that power rested with her presently to insist, if she
+pleased to do so.  He was a generous and fairly devout lover.  He more
+than satisfied her requirements in that direction.  She had, indeed,
+cooled his ardour a little, and she supposed that her common-sense was
+gradually modifying his amorous disposition.  But another's
+common-sense is a weak weapon against lust, and Ned's sensual energies,
+dammed by Cora, found secret outlet elsewhere.
+
+So it came about that he endured the ordeal of the lengthy engagement
+without difficulty, and the girl wore his fancied sobriety and
+self-control as a feather in her cap.  When she related her achievement
+to Ned and explained to him how much his character already owed to her
+chastening influence, he admitted it without a blush, and solemnly
+assured her that she had changed his whole attitude to the sex.
+
+Now the man arrived, and they walked together by Beatland Corner,
+southerly of Shaugh, upon the moor-edge.
+
+Their talk was of the autumn wedding and the necessity for some active
+efforts to decide their domicile.  Cora was for a suburb of Plymouth,
+but Ned wanted to live in the country outside.  The shop she did not
+mention after his recent strong expressions of aversion from it; but
+she desired the first step to be such that transition to town might
+easily follow, when marriage was accomplished and her power became
+paramount.
+
+They decided, at length, to visit certain places that stood between
+town and country above Plymouth.  There were Stoke and Mannamead to
+see.  A villa was Cora's ambition--a villa and two servants.  Ned's
+instincts, on the other hand, led to a small house and a large stable.
+He owned some horses and took great part of his pleasure upon them.
+Since possession of her own steed, however, Cora's regard for riding
+had diminished.  It was her way to be quickly satisfied with a new toy.
+Now she spoke of a 'victoria,' so that when she was married she might
+drive daily upon her shopping and her visiting.
+
+"The thing is to begin well," she said.  "People call according to your
+house, and often the difference between nice blinds and common blinds
+will decide women whether they'll visit a newcomer or not.  With my
+taste you can trust the outside of your home to look all right, Ned.
+At Mannamead I saw the very sort of house I'd like for us to have.
+Such a style, and I couldn't think what 'twas about it till I saw the
+short blinds was all hung in bright shining brass rods across the
+windows, and the window-boxes was all painted peacock-blue.  'I'll have
+my house just like that!' I thought."
+
+"So you shall--or any colour you please.  And I'll have my stable smart
+too, I promise you.  White tiles all through.  I shall have to do a bit
+myself, you know--looking after the horses, I mean--but nobody will
+know it."
+
+"You'll keep a man, of course?"'
+
+"A cheap one.  Uncle Nathan went into figures with me last week.  He
+was a bit vague, and I was a bit impatient and soon had enough of it.
+'All I want to know,' I told him, 'is just exactly what income I can
+count upon,' and he said five hundred a year was the outside figure.
+Then, against that, you must set that he's getting a bit old and, of
+course, being another person's money, he's extra cautious.  He admitted
+that if I sold out some shares and bought others, I could get pretty
+near another one hundred a year by it.  But, of course, we've got to
+take a bite out of the money for furnishing and all the rest of it.  My
+idea, as you know, is to invest a bit in a sleeping partnership, but he
+hasn't found anything of the sort yet, apparently.  He's not the man he
+was at finding a bargain."
+
+Here opened a good opportunity for her ambitions, and Cora ventured to
+take it.
+
+"I wish you'd think twice about letting me start a little business.
+It's quite a ladylike thing, or I wouldn't offer it, but with my
+natural cleverness about clothes, and with all the time I've given to
+the fashions and all that--especially with the hats I can make--it
+seems a pity not to let me do it.  You don't want much money to start
+with, and I should soon draw the custom."
+
+"No," he said.  "Time enough if ever we get hard up.  I'm not going to
+have you making money.  'Tis your business to spend it.  You'll be a
+lady, with your own servants and all the rest of it.  You'll walk
+about, and pick the flowers in your garden, and pay visits; and if you
+do have a little trap, you can drive out to the meets sometimes when I
+go hunting.  Why, damn it all, Cora, I should have thought you was the
+last girl who would ever want to do such a thing!"
+
+"That's all you know," she said.  "People who keep hat shops often get
+in with much bigger swells than ever we're likely to know at Mannamead,
+or Stoke either.  They come into the shop and they see, of course, I'm
+a lady, and I explain that I only keep the shop for fun, and then I get
+to know them.  I'd make more swell friends in my hat shop than ever you
+do on your horse out fox-hunting."
+
+"I know a lot of swells, for that matter."
+
+"Ask 'em to come to tea and then you'll see if you know 'em," she said.
+"'Tis no use for us to be silly.  We're poor people, compared to rich
+ones, and we always shall be, so far as I can see.  We must be content
+with getting up the ladder a bit--and that's all I ask or expect."
+
+"I know my place all right, if that's what you mean," answered Ned.
+"I'm not anxious to get in with my betters, for they're not much use to
+me.  I'm easily satisfied.  I want for you to have a good time, and I
+mean for myself to have a good time.  You can only live your life once,
+and a man's a fool to let worry come into his life if he can escape
+from it.  The great thing in the world is to find people who think as
+you do yourself.  That's worth a bit of trouble; and when you've found
+them, stick to them.  A jolly good motto too."
+
+They spilt words to feeble purpose for another half-hour, and then
+there came an acquaintance.  Timothy Waite appeared on his way from
+Coldstone Farm.  He overtook them and walked beside them.
+
+"I suppose you don't want company," he said, "but I'll leave you half a
+mile further on."
+
+"We do want company, and always shall," declared Cora.  "And yours most
+of all, I'm sure.  We're past the silly spooning stage.  In fact, we
+never got into it, did we, Edward?"
+
+"You didn't," said her betrothed, "and as you didn't, I couldn't.
+Spooning takes two."
+
+Mr. Waite remained a bachelor and no woman had ever been mentioned in
+connection with him.  He was highly eligible and, indeed, a husband
+much to be desired.  He enjoyed prosperity, good looks, and a
+reputation for sense and industry.
+
+Cora he had always admired, and still did so.  At heart he wondered why
+she had chosen Ned Baskerville, and sometimes, since the marriage hung
+fire, he suspected that she was not entirely satisfied of her bargain
+and might yet change her mind.
+
+He would have married her willingly, for there was that in her
+practical and unsentimental character which appealed to him.  He had
+indeed contemplated proposing when the announcement of young
+Baskerville's engagement reached him.  He met Cora sometimes and always
+admired her outlook on life.  He did so now, yet knowing Ned too,
+doubted at heart whether the woman had arrested his propensities as
+completely as she asserted.
+
+"The question on our lips when you came along was where we should set
+up shop," said Ned.
+
+"A shop is what I really and truly want to set up," declared Cora; "but
+Edward won't hear of it--more fool him, I say.  He can't earn money,
+but that's no reason why I shouldn't try to."
+
+Mr. Waite entirely agreed with her.
+
+"No reason why you shouldn't.  If Cadworthy's to be handed over to
+Rupert and you're going to live in Plymouth, as I hear," he said, "then
+why not business?  There's nothing against it that I know, and there's
+nothing like it.  If I wasn't a farmer, I'd keep a shop.  For that
+matter a farmer does keep a shop.  Only difference that I can see is
+that he has fields instead of cupboards and loses good money through
+the middleman between him and his customers.  I'm going to take another
+stall in Plymouth market after Midsummer.  There's nought like market
+work for saving cash."
+
+"And as nearly half our money will come from the rent that Rupert pays
+for Cadworthy, we shall be living by a shop in a sense whether you
+pretend to or not," added Cora.
+
+But Ned denied this.  He aired his views on political economy, while
+Waite, who valued money, yet valued making it still more, reduced the
+other's opinions to their proper fatuity and laughed at him into the
+bargain.
+
+Timothy's contempt for Baskerville was not concealed.  He even
+permitted himself a sly jest or two at the expense of the other's
+mental endowments; and these thrusts, while unfelt by the victim,
+stabbed Cora's breast somewhat keenly.  Even Timothy's laughter, she
+told herself, was more sane and manly than Ned's.
+
+She fell into her own vice of contrasting the thing she had with the
+thing she had not, to the detriment of the former.  It was an instinct
+with her to under-value her own possessions; but the instinct stopped
+at herself--an unusual circumstance.
+
+With herself and her attributes of mind and body, she never quarrelled;
+it was only her environment that by no possibility compared favourably
+with that of other people.  Her mother, her sister, her brother, her
+betrothed, and her prospects--none but seemed really unworthy of Cora
+when dispassionately judged by herself.
+
+Now she weighed Timothy's decision against Ned's doubt, his knowledge
+against Ned's ignorance, his sense against Ned's nonsense.  She felt
+the farmer's allusions, and she throbbed with discomfort because Ned
+did not also feel them and retort upon Mr. Waite in like manner.  She
+told herself that the difference between them was the radical
+difference between a wise man and a fool.  Then she fell back in
+self-defence of her own judgment, and assured herself that, physically,
+there could be no comparison, and that Ned had a better heart and would
+make a gentler husband.
+
+Timothy had admired her--she remembered that; but he was caution
+personified and, while he had considered, Ned had plunged.  She strove
+to see this as a virtue in Ned.  Yet Timothy's old attitude to her
+forbade any slighting of him.  She remembered very well how, when he
+congratulated her on her engagement, he had pointedly praised Ned for
+one thing alone: his precipitation.  A fault at other seasons may be a
+virtue in the love season.
+
+"I thought him not very clever," said Timothy on that occasion; "but
+now I see he was cleverer than any of us.  Because he was too clever to
+waste a moment in getting what every other chap wanted.  We learn these
+things too late."
+
+He said that and said it with great significance.  It comforted Cora
+now to remember the circumstance.  Whatever else Ned might not know, he
+knew a good deal about women; and that would surely make him by so much
+a better husband.  Then her wits told her the opposite might be argued
+from this premise.  She was not enjoying herself, and she felt glad
+when Waite left them.  Anon Ned rallied her for lengthened taciturnity
+and even hinted, as a jest, that he believed she was regretting her
+choice.
+
+They turned presently and went back over Shaugh Moor to drink tea at
+the man's home.  But upon the threshold Cora changed her mind.  She
+pleaded headache and some anxiety about her health.
+
+"I've got a cold coming--else I wouldn't be so low-spirited," she said.
+"I'll get back through North Wood and go to bed early."
+
+He instantly expressed utmost solicitation and concern.
+
+"I'll come back with you, then.  If you like, I'll put in the pony and
+drive you," he said.  But she would neither of these things.
+
+"I shall be all right.  You go in and have your tea, and don't trouble.
+I'll get back by the wood path, and you'll find I shall be better
+to-morrow."
+
+"'Tis that flimsy dress that lets the wind through like a net," he
+said.  "The weather's not right for such clothes as you will wear."
+
+But she laughed and told him to mind his own business.  Then she kissed
+him on the cheek and went away.
+
+He stood doubtful.  First he felt moved to follow her, and then he
+changed his mind.  He knew Cora better than she thought he did, and he
+was aware that at the present moment she felt perfectly well but
+desired to be alone.
+
+He had not missed the significance of Mr. Waite's views on his
+sweetheart's mind, though he had failed to appreciate Timothy's sly
+humour at his own expense.
+
+Now, therefore, he let Cora have her will and made no further effort to
+overtake her.  He waited only until she looked back, as he knew she
+would; then he kissed his hand, turned, and departed.
+
+She passed along through the forest homeward, and, when hidden in a
+silent place, dusted a stone and sat down to think.
+
+A wild apple tree rose above her, half smothered in a great ivy-tod.
+But through the darkness of the parasite, infant sprays of bright young
+foliage sprang and splashed the gloomy evergreen with verdure.
+
+Aloft, crowning this gnarled and elbowed crab, burst out a triumphant
+wreath of pale pink blossom--dainty, diaphanous, and curled.  Full of
+light and pearly purity it feathered on the bough, and its tender
+brightness was splashed with crimson beads of the flower-buds that
+waited their time and turn to open.
+
+Higher still, dominating the tree, thrust forth a crooked, naked bough
+or two.  They towered, black, dead, and grim above the loveliness of
+the living thing beneath.
+
+From reflections not agreeable, this good sight attracted Cora and
+turned the tide of her thoughts.
+
+Even here the instinct of business dominated any sentiment that might
+have wakened in another spirit before such beauty.  She gazed at it,
+then rose and plucked a few sprays of the apple-blossom.  Next she took
+off her hat and began to try the effect of the natural flowers therein.
+Her efforts pleased her not a little.
+
+"Lord!  What a hand I have for it!" she said aloud.  Then, refreshened
+by this evidence of her skill, she rose and proceeded to Shaugh.  "I
+know one thing," she thought, "and that is, man or no man, I shall
+always be able to make my living single-handed in a town.  'Tisn't for
+that I want a husband.  And be it as 'twill, when master Ned finds a
+lot more money coming in, he'd very soon give over crying out at a
+shop."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+Humphrey Baskerville still sought to determine his need, and sometimes
+supposed that he had done so.  More than once he had contemplated the
+possibility of peace by flight; then there happened incidents to change
+his mind.
+
+Of late the idea of a home further from distracting influences had
+again seemed good to him.  More than once he considered the advantages
+of isolation; more than once he rode upon the Moor and distracted his
+gloom with visions of imaginary dwellings in regions remote.
+
+The folly of these thoughts often thrust him with a rebound into the
+life of his fellow-beings, and those who knew him best observed a
+rhythmic alternation in Humphrey.
+
+After periods of abstention and loneliness would follow some return to
+a more sociable style of living.  From a fierce hectic of mind that
+sent him sore and savage into the heart of the wilderness, he cooled
+and grew temperate again as the intermittent fever passed.
+
+And then, when the effort towards his kind had failed by his own
+ineptitude and the world's mistrust, he retreated once more to suffer,
+and banished himself behind the clouds of his own restless soul.
+
+Humanity has no leisure to decipher these difficult spirits; the pathos
+of their attempts must demand a philosophic eye to perceive it; and
+unless kind chance offers the key, unless opportunity affords an
+explanation, the lonely but hungry heart passes away unfathomed, sinks
+to the grave unread and unreconciled.
+
+Inner darkness turned Baskerville to the Moor again, and he rode--where
+often he had already ridden: to inspect the ruin of an old dwelling
+upon the side of a great hill above the waters of Plym.
+
+Brilliant summer smiled upon this pilgrimage, and as he went, he fell
+in with a friend, where Jack Head tramped the high road upon his way to
+Trowlesworthy.  Jack now dwelt at Shaugh, but was head man of Saul
+Luscombe's farm and rabbit warren.
+
+"A fine day," said Humphrey as he slowed his pony.
+
+"Yes, and a finer coming," answered the other.  Mr. Baskerville was
+quick to note the militant tone.
+
+"Been at your silly books again, I warrant," he said.  "There's one
+book I could wish you'd read along with t'others, Jack.  'Tis the salt
+to all other books, for all you scorn it."
+
+"Bible's a broken reed, master, as you'll live to find out yet."
+
+"No, Jack.  'Tis what makes all other writing but a broken reed.  A
+fountain that never runs dry, I promise you.  No man will ever get the
+whole truth out of the Bible."
+
+"No, by Gor!  Because it ban't there," said the other.
+
+"It's there all right--hidden for the little children to find it.  You
+bandage your eyes and then you say you can't see--a fool's trick that."
+
+"I can see so far as you.  'Tis you put coloured spectacles on your
+nose to make things look as you'd have 'em.  Your book be played out,
+master.  Let the childer read it, if you like, along with the other
+fairy tales; but don't think grown men be going to waste their time
+with it.  The whole truth is that the book be built on a lie.  There
+never was no Jehovah and never will be.  Moses invented Him to frighten
+the folk from their naughtiness, same as you invent a scarecrow to
+frighten the birds from the seed.  And the scarecrow works better than
+Jehovah did, by all accounts."
+
+"You talk out of your narrow, bitter books, Jack."
+
+"No need to call my books names.  That's all your side can do.  Why
+don't they try to answer 'em instead of blackguarding 'em?"
+
+"'Tis a great danger to the poor that they begin to think so much."
+
+"Don't you say that.  Knowledge be the weapon the poor have been
+waiting for all these years and years.  'Tis the only weapon for a poor
+man.  And what will it soon show 'em?  It'll show 'em that the most
+powerful thing on this earth be the poor.  They are just going to find
+it out; then you rich people will hear of something that will terrible
+astonish you."
+
+"You're a rank Socialist, Jack.  I've no patience with you."
+
+"There you are: 'no patience!'  But that's another thing we men of the
+soil be going to teach you chaps who own the soil.  'Patience,' you
+say.  There's a time coming when the rich people will have to be mighty
+patient, I warn you!  And if you're impatient--why, 'tis all one to us,
+for never was heard that any impatient man could stop the tide flowing."
+
+"I believe that," said Baskerville grimly.  "You'll pay us presently
+for teaching you, and clothing you, and helping to enlarge your minds.
+When you're learned enough, you'll turn round, like the snake, and bite
+the hand that fed you.  Gratitude the common soul never knows and never
+will, whatever else it may learn.  Knowledge is poison to low natures,
+and we ought to have kept you ignorant and harmless."
+
+Jack Head stared.
+
+"That's a pretty speech!" he said.  "That's a good healthy bit of
+Christian charity--eh?  Why for should you ax so much credit for your
+side?  Take me.  What's the rich man done for me?  A workhouse boy I
+was."
+
+"And look at you now--a prosperous man and saving money.  Who fed you
+and taught you and brought you up?  The State.  Society saved you;
+society played mother to you; and now you want to kick her.  That's how
+you'd pay your debts.  You take a base and a narrow view--dishonest
+too.  The State have got to look after the rich as well as the poor.
+Why not?  The poor aren't everybody.  You're the sort that think no man
+can be a decent member of society unless he was born in a gutter.
+Class prejudice 'tis called, and some of the chaps who think they're
+the salt of the earth, stink of it."
+
+"Class be damned," said Mr. Head.  "Class is all stuff and nonsense.
+There are only two classes--good men and bad ones.  The difference
+between a duke and me be difference between a pig with a ring in his
+nose and another without one.  We'm built the same to the last bone in
+our bodies, and I've got more sense than half the dukes in the kingdom."
+
+"And t'other half have got more sense than you," returned the rider.
+"It's summed up in a word.  Class there will be, because class there
+must be.  The poor we have always with us--you know that well enough.
+Your books, though they deny most things, can't deny that."
+
+"Another of your silly Christian sayings.  We have got the poor with
+us--but it won't be always.  So long as we have the rich with us, we
+shall have the poor, and no longer.  No longer, master!  Finish off the
+one and you'll finish off t'other.  That's a bit of home-grown wisdom,
+that is got from no book at all."
+
+"Wisdom, you call it!  And what power is going to root out the rich?
+How are you clever folk going to alter human nature, and say to this
+man you shan't save your money and to this man you shall save yours?
+While some men and women are born to thrift and sense, and some to
+folly and squandering, there must be rich and poor; and while men are
+born to hunger for power, there must be war.  These things can't be
+changed.  And you can't say where any man can reach to; you can't put
+up a mark and tell your fellow-man, 'you shan't go higher than that.'"
+
+"Granted.  You can't say where they shall reach to; but you can say
+where they shall start from.  Half the world's handicapped at the
+starting-post.  I only ax for the race to be a fair one.  I only ax for
+my son to start fair with yours.  If yours be the better man, then let
+him win; but don't let him win because he's got too long a start.
+That's not justice but tyranny.  Give every man his chance and make
+every man work--that's all I ask.  If a man's only got the wits to
+break stones, then see that he breaks 'em; and let them who can do
+better and earn better money not grudge the stone-breaker a little over
+and above what his poor wits earn in the market."
+
+"I grant that's good," admitted Baskerville.  "Let the strong help the
+weak.  'Twas Christ found that out, not you Socialists."
+
+"'Tis found out anyway," said Jack Head.  "And 'tis true; and therefore
+it will happen and we can't go back on it.  And it follows from that
+law of strong helping weak that nobody ought to be too rich, any more
+than they ought to be too poor.  Let the State be a millionaire a
+million times over, if you like--and only the State.  So long as the
+hive be rich, no bee is poor."
+
+Humphrey did not immediately reply.  He was following Head's argument
+to a still larger conclusion.
+
+"And you'd argue that as the strong man can help the weak one, so in
+time the strong State might help the weak one instead of hindering it,
+and the powerful of the earth give of their abundance to strengthen the
+humble and feeble?"
+
+"Why not?  Instead of that, the great Powers be bristling with fighting
+men, and all the sinews of the world be wasted on war.  And it shows
+the uselessness of the Book, anyway, that the Christian
+nations--so-called--keep the biggest armies and the largest number of
+men idle, rotting their bodies and souls away in barracks and
+battleships."
+
+Baskerville nodded.
+
+"There's sense of a lop-sided sort in much that you say, Jack.  But
+'tisn't the Book that's to blame--'tis the world that misunderstands
+the Book and daren't go by the Book--because of the nations around that
+don't go by it."
+
+"Then why do they pretend they'm Christians?  They know if they went by
+the Book they'd go down; yet they want to drive it into the heads of
+the next generation.  The child hears his father damning the Government
+because they ban't building enough men-of-war, and next day when the
+boy comes home with a black eye, his father turns round and tells him
+to mind his Bible and remember that the peacemakers be blessed."
+
+"I could wish a Government would give Christianity a chance," confessed
+Mr. Baskerville; "but I suppose 'tis much the same thing as Free
+Trade--a fine thing if everybody played the game, but a poor thing for
+one nation if t'others are all for Protection."
+
+"That's a lie," answered Mr. Head.  "We've shown Free Trade is a fine
+thing--single-handed we've shown it, and why?  Because Free Trade's a
+strong sword; but Christianity's rusty and won't stand the strain no
+longer.  We've passed that stage; and if we was to start Christianity
+now and offer the cheek to the smiter--well, he'd damn soon smite, and
+then where are we?"
+
+They chattered on and set the world right according to their outlook,
+instinct, and understanding.  Then the conversation turned into
+personal channels, and Mr. Baskerville, while admitting the justice of
+much that Jack asserted, yet blamed him for a certain impatience and
+bitterness.
+
+"If evolution is going to set all right and the unborn will come into a
+better world, why get so hot?" he asked.
+
+"Because I'm a thinking, feeling man," answered the other.  "Because I
+hate to see wrong done in the name of right.  And you're the same--only
+you haven't got as much sense as me seemingly.  I'm useful--you only
+want to be useful and don't see how."
+
+"I want to do my part in the world; but just the right way is difficult
+to choose out among the many roads that offer, Jack.  You are positive,
+and that saves a deal of trouble, no doubt.  The positive people go the
+furthest--for good or evil.  But I'm not so certain.  I see deeper than
+you because I've been better educated, though I'm not so clever by
+nature.  Then there's another thing--sympathy.  People don't like me,
+and to be disliked limits a man's usefulness a lot."
+
+"That's stuff," answered Jack; "no more than a maggot got in your head.
+If they don't like you, there's a reason.  They'm feared of your sharp
+tongue, and think 'tis the key to a hard heart.  Then 'tis for you to
+show 'em what they can't see.  I'll tell you what you are: you'm a man
+sitting hungry in a wheat-field, because you don't know and won't larn
+how to turn corn into bread.  That's you in a word."
+
+Trowlesworthy was reached and Jack went his way.
+
+"You might come and drink a dish of tea some Sunday," said Mr.
+Baskerville, and the other promised to do so.  Then Humphrey proceeded
+beside the river, and presently ascended a rough slope to his
+destination.  The ruin that alternately drew and repelled him lay
+below; but for the moment he did not seek it.  He climbed to the high
+ground, dismounted, turned his pony loose, and took his pipe out of his
+pocket.
+
+The great cone of granite known as Hen Tor lies high upon the eastern
+bank of Plym, between that streamlet and the bog-foundered table-land
+of Shavercombe beyond.  From its crown the visitor marked Cornwall's
+coastline far-spreading into the west, and Whitsand Bay reflecting
+silver morning light along the darker boundaries of earth.
+
+Spaces of grass and fern extended about the tor, and far below a midget
+that was a man moved along the edge of the ripe bracken and mowed it
+down with a scythe.
+
+Half a dozen carrion crows took wing and flapped with loud croaking
+away as Humphrey ascended the tor and sat upon its summit.  Again he
+traversed the familiar scene in his mind, again perceived the
+difficulties of transit to this place.  Occasionally, before these
+problems, he had set to work obstinately and sought solutions.
+
+Once he had determined to rebuild the ruin in the valley, so that he
+might turn his back on man and make trial of the anchorite's isolation
+and hermit's bastard peace; but to-day he was in no mood for such
+experiments; his misanthropic fit passed upon the west wind, and his
+thoughts took to themselves a brighter colour.
+
+Where he sat two roof-trees were visible, separated by the distant
+height of Legis Tor.  Trowlesworthy and Ditsworthy alone appeared, and
+for the rest the river roamed between them, and flocks and herds
+wandered upon the hills around.  The man still moved below, and long
+ribbons of fallen fern spread regularly behind him.
+
+A foul smell struck on Baskerville's nostrils, and he saw death not far
+distant, where the crows had been frightened from their meal.  He
+climbed away from the main pile of the tor and sat in a natural chair
+hollowed from the side of an immense block of granite that stands hard
+by.  He smoked, and his pony grazed.
+
+A storm of rain fell and passed.  The sun succeeded upon it, and for a
+little while the moor glittered with moisture.  Then the wind dried all
+again.  The old man was now entirely out of tune with any thought of a
+dwelling here.  He did not even descend the hill and inspect the ruin
+beneath.  But he had come to spend the day alone, and was contented to
+do so.  His mind busied itself with the last thing that a fellow-man
+had said to him.  He repeated Jack Head's word over and over to
+himself.  Presently he ate the food that he had brought with him, drank
+at a spring, and walked about to warm his body.  The carrion crows
+cried in air, soared hither and thither, settled again on the rocks at
+hand and waited, with the perfect patience of unconscious nature, for
+him to depart.  But he remained until the end of the day.
+
+Then occurred a magnificent spectacle.  After gold of evening had
+scattered the Moor and made dark peat and grey rock burn, there rolled
+up from the south an immense fog, that spread its nacreous sea under
+the sunset.  Born of far-off fierce heat upon the ocean, it advanced
+and enveloped earth, valley by valley, and ridge by ridge.  Only the
+highest peaks evaded this flood of vapours, and upon them presently
+sank the sun.  His light descending touched many points and uplifted
+sprays of mist; whereon, like magic, a thousand galleons rode over the
+pearl and advanced in a golden flotilla upon this fleeting sea.  The
+rare, brief wonder passed, and the sky above it faded; the sun sank;
+the fog rolled forward--heavy, cold, a burden for the wet wings of
+night.
+
+Humphrey set off, and the carrion crows, full hungry, returned to sup.
+
+In Baskerville's mind certain words reverberated still, as they had
+often done since they were spoken during the morning.  They chimed to
+the natural sounds that had fallen upon his ear throughout the day;
+they were echoed in the wind and the distant water-murmur; in the cry
+of birds and call of beasts; in the steady rasping of his pony's teeth
+through the herbage; and now, in its hoof-beat as it trotted by a
+sheep-track homeward.
+
+And louder than all these repetitions of it, louder than the natural
+music that seemed to utter the words in many voices, there came the
+drumming of his own pulse, laden with the same message, and the
+answering beat of his heart that affirmed the truth of it.
+
+"A man sitting hungry in a wheat-field, because you don't know and
+won't learn how to turn corn into bread."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+Milly and her husband Rupert came on a Sunday to drink tea at Hawk
+House.  They found Humphrey from home, but he had left a message with
+Susan Hacker to say that he would return before five o'clock.
+
+"He's got the rheumatics," said Mrs. Hacker.  "They have fastened cruel
+in his shoulder-blades, and he've started on his pony and gone off to
+see the doctor.  Won't have none of my cautcheries, though I know
+what's good for rheumatics well enough, and I've cured three cases to
+common knowledge that neither doctor nor that Eliza Gollop could budge,
+do as they would."
+
+Rupert expressed concern, and went out to meet his uncle, while Milly
+stopped and helped Susan Hacker to prepare tea.
+
+"And how do 'e like being married?" asked the elder.
+
+"Very well; but not quite so well as I thought to," answered Milly with
+her usual frankness.
+
+"Ah! same with most, though few have the pluck to confess it."
+
+"Being married is a very fine thing if you've got such a husband as
+Rupert; but living along with your husband's people ain't so fine, if
+you understand me.  You see, he's farmer now, and he will have his
+way--a terrible resolute chap where the land and the things be
+concerned.  But sometimes his mother gets a bit restive at Rupert's
+orders, and sometimes she says, in her quiet way, as her husband never
+would have held with this or that.  'Tis a thought awkward now and
+again, because, you see, Rupert ban't the favourite, and never was."
+
+"You side with him, of course?"
+
+"Always, and always shall do--right or wrong."
+
+"Maybe when Master Ned's married and away Mrs. Baskerville will go
+easier."
+
+"Don't think I'm grumbling.  She's a kind woman, but, like all old
+married folk, seem to think young married folk be only playing at it.
+The truth is that I haven't got enough to do for the minute."
+
+Mr. Baskerville returned in half an hour, and Rupert walked beside him.
+Then, with some silent suffering, the old man alighted, and a boy took
+the pony to its stable.
+
+"Doctor was out," he said, "so I'll have to trouble you to make up a
+bit of your ointment after all."
+
+"And so I will," answered Susan.  "And if you'd gone to that Gollop
+woman for the beastliness she pretends will cure everything, I'd never
+have forgiven you.  She helped to kill off your brother, no doubt, but
+that's no reason why you should give her a chance to kill you."
+
+"You're all alike," he said; "a jealous generation.  But if you can
+have your physic ready in an hour, so much the better; then Rupert
+shall give my back a good rub before he goes."
+
+Mrs. Hacker was doubtful.
+
+"Better I do it," she said.  "'Tis the way it's rubbed in makes the
+cure."
+
+"He's stronger and can rub harder," answered the patient.
+
+"Uncle Nathan's none too grand, neither," declared his nephew.  "Won't
+say what's amiss, but I do think he's not all he might be.  I asked
+Mrs. Lintern, who knows more about him than anybody, I reckon, and she
+told me 'twas nothing much in her opinion--only his throat a bit queer."
+
+"You and Uncle Nathan ought to have wives to look after you," declared
+Milly as she poured out tea.  "You men be unfinished, awkward things
+alone.  You'm always wanting us at every turn, for one reason or
+another, and after middle age a man looks a fool half his time if he
+haven't got a woman for his own.  Men do the big things and alter the
+face of the earth and all that, but what becomes of their clever
+greatness without our clever littleness?"
+
+"Cant!--cant!  You all talk that stuff and 'tisn't worth answering.
+Ask the sailors if they can't sew better than their sweethearts."
+
+Mr. Baskerville was in a hard mood and would allow no credit to the
+sex.  He endured his pain without comment, but it echoed itself in
+impatient and rather bitter speeches.  Rupert fell back on other
+members of the family, and spoke of his uncle, the master of 'The White
+Thorn.'
+
+"The good that man does isn't guessed," he said.  "The little
+things--you'd be surprised--yet 'tisn't surprising neither, for every
+soul you meet speaks well of him; and a man can't win to that without
+being a wonder.  He's made of human kindness, and yet never remembers
+the kind things he does--no memory for 'em at all."
+
+Humphrey conceded the nobility of this trait, and Milly spoke.
+
+"Not like some we could name, who'll give a gift to-day and fling it in
+your face to-morrow."
+
+"There are such.  My mother's father was such a one," said Mr.
+Baskerville.  "He never forgot a kindness--that he'd done himself.  He
+checked his good angel's record terrible sharp, did that man."
+
+There came an interruption here, and unexpected visitors in the shape
+of Nicholas Bassett, the young man who had married Polly Baskerville,
+and Polly herself.  Nicholas was nervous and stood behind his wife;
+Polly was also nervous, but the sight of her brother Rupert gave her
+courage.
+
+Her uncle welcomed her with astonishment.
+
+"Wonders never cease," he said.  "I didn't count to get a visit from
+you, Polly, or your husband either.  You needn't stand there turning
+your Sunday hat round and round, Bassett.  I shan't eat you, though
+people here do seem to think I'm a man-eater."
+
+"We came for advice," said Polly, "and I made bold to bring Nicholas.
+In fact, 'twas his idea that I should speak to you."
+
+Mr. Baskerville was gratified, but his nature forbade him to show it.
+
+"A new thing to come to Uncle Humphrey when you might go to Uncle
+Nathan," he said.
+
+"'Tis just about Uncle Nathan is the difficulty," declared his niece.
+Then she turned to her husband.  "You speak, Nick.  You must know that
+Nick's rather slow of speech, and can't get his words always, but he's
+improving.  Tell Uncle Humphrey how 'tis, Nick."
+
+Mr. Bassett nodded, dried a damp brow with a red handkerchief, and
+spoke.
+
+"'Tis like this here," he began.  "Under Mr. Vivian Baskerville's
+will--him being my wife's father--she had five hundred pound."
+
+"We all know that," said Rupert.  "And May, too."
+
+"Well, the law of the will was that the money should be handed over
+when the girls was wedded, or when they comed to the age of
+five-and-twenty.  Therefore, surely it's clear as my wife ought to have
+her five hundred--eh?"
+
+"Perfectly clear--on the day she married you," said Rupert.  "I thought
+you'd got it, Polly."
+
+"But I haven't.  There's legal difficulties--so Uncle Nathan says; and
+he told Nicholas that there was a doubt in his mind whether--what was
+it, Nick?"
+
+"The man said that as trustee for everybody he was very unwilling to
+disturb the money.  He said 'twas out at interest and doing very well;
+and he said he'd pay us five per centum upon it, which comed to
+twenty-five pounds a year."
+
+"You're entitled to the capital if you want it," declared Mr.
+Baskerville.  "It can't be withheld."
+
+"I've been to the man twice since," said Polly's husband, "and he's
+always terrible busy, or else just going into it in a few days, or
+something like that.  We've had six months' interest on it; but we want
+the money--at least, half of it--because we've got ideas about leasing
+a field where we live to Bickleigh, and buying a cow in calf and a lot
+of poultry.  With all Polly's farm cleverness we can do better with a
+bit of money than leave it in the bank.  At least, that's what we
+think."
+
+"Ask Rupert here to help," suggested her uncle.  "He's on very good
+terms with Uncle Nat, and he's a man of business now, and Polly's elder
+brother, and a right to be heard.  No doubt, if he says plain and clear
+that he wants you to have your money without delay, you'll get it."
+
+"I'd leave it till autumn, after Ned's marriage," said Rupert, "then
+I'd press him to clear things up.  Ned will want tons of money then,
+and I believe Cora Lintern is to have a money present from Uncle
+Nathan.  She got the secret out of her mother, and, of course, told
+Ned; and now everybody knows.  But nobody knows the figure.  Therefore,
+I say Polly had better do nought till the wedding."
+
+"Mr. Nathan's temper isn't what it was," said Rupert's wife.  "His
+health be fretting him a lot, I believe."
+
+"I wish I had our money, anyhow," declared Mr. Bassett; "but if you say
+wait till autumn, of course we will do so."
+
+Humphrey Baskerville spoke but little.  He had fallen into deep private
+thought upon this news, and now was only aroused by his niece getting
+up to depart.
+
+"I hope you'll forgive us for troubling you," said Polly; "but we've
+talked it over a thousand times, and we felt we ought to take the
+opinion of some wiser person.  Still, if you say wait, we'll wait."
+
+"I didn't say wait," answered her uncle, "and I don't take any
+responsibility for it.  Rupert advised you to wait, not me.  If a man
+owed me twopence under a will--let alone five hundred pound--I'd have
+it, and wouldn't wait a minute."
+
+The young couple departed in a good deal of agitation, and debated this
+advice very earnestly all the way home; but Rupert stuck to his own
+opinion, and, when they were gone, chode Humphrey for giving such
+counsel.
+
+"I'm sure such a thing would hurt Uncle Nathan cruelly," he said.
+"'Tis as much as to say that you don't trust him--don't trust a man who
+is trusted by the countryside as none ever was before."
+
+"Easy to be large-minded about other people's money," answered his
+uncle.  "Only if 'twas yours, and not your sister's, I rather think
+you'd be a bit less patient with the man that held it from you."
+
+Yet another visitor appeared and the family matter was dropped.
+
+Mrs. Hacker brought in Mr. Head.
+
+"Looks as if the whole countryside was coming here," she declared.
+"Here's Jack for a cup of tea; and the ointment will be cool enough to
+use in half an hour."
+
+"Hullo, Bear!" said Rupert.  "Who'd have thought of seeing you?"
+
+"I was axed to tea when I felt in a mind to come," replied Mr. Head;
+"and here I am, if not in the way.  And as to being a bear, I'm the
+sort that needs a lot of stirring up afore I roar--your wife will back
+me up in that.  How's Mr. Baskerville faring?"
+
+"Got the rheumatism," answered Humphrey.  "Rupert here be going to rub
+in some ointment presently."
+
+"I hope 'twill break the heart of it, I'm sure.  There's nothing worse.
+It tells us the truth about our parts better than any sermon.  I'm not
+too gay to-day myself.  We was at it hammer and tongs in 'The White
+Thorn' last night--me and your brother.  Such a Tory was never seen in
+the land afore.  I very soon settled Tom Gollop and a few others like
+him, but Mr. Nathan's got more learning and more power of argument.  We
+drank, too--more than usual, owing to the thirstiness of the night and
+the flow of speech.  Quarts I must have took, and when Ben North looked
+in to say 'twas closing time, nothing would do but a few of us went in
+your brother's room, after house was shut, and went at it again."
+
+"Say you were drunk in a word, Jack," suggested Rupert.
+
+"Not drunk, Rupert--still, near it.  We all got in sight of it.
+There's no prophet like the next morning after a wet night.  As a man
+fond of the flesh I say it.  And the older you grow, the sharper comes
+the day after a bust-up.  Then Nature gives you a proper talking to,
+and your heart swells with good resolutions against beer and other
+things.  And then, as soon as you are as right as ninepence--just by
+keeping those good resolves--blest if Nature don't tumble down what
+she's set up, and tempt you with all her might to go on the loose
+again.  You can't steady her, though she can mighty soon steady you.
+Preaches to you one minute, and then starts off to get you into
+mischief the next.  That's her way--no more sense than any other
+female."
+
+"Then so much the less reason to put your trust in her," answered Mr.
+Baskerville.  "She's a poor, untaught, savage thing at best.  'Tis
+madness to trust her, for nothing is weaker than she."
+
+"Nothing is stronger or so strong," declared Jack.  "Nature knows what
+she wants, and she gets what she wants.  You can't deny that.  She's
+just, and never does nothing without a reason.  Very different to a
+woman there.  She'm digging her claws into your back because you've
+been doing some foolish thing, I'll warrant."
+
+He drank his tea and aired his opinions.  But Mr. Baskerville was in no
+mood for Jack's philosophy.  He retired presently with Rupert, stripped
+to the waist, and endured a great and forcible application of Mrs.
+Hacker's ointment.  The friction brought comfort with it, and he
+declared himself better as a result.  But he did not again descend from
+his chamber, and presently the three visitors departed together.
+
+Mr. Head expressed great admiration for Susan Hacker.
+
+"I should like to be better acquaint with that woman," he declared.
+"For sense in few words there's not her equal about."
+
+"If you want to please her, cuss Eliza Gollop," explained Rupert.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+The setting sun burnt upon Dewerstone's shoulder and beat in a sea of
+light against the western face of North Wood, until the wind-worn
+forest edge, taking colour on trunk and bough, glowed heartily.
+
+Already the first summer splendour was dimmed, for these lofty domains
+suffered full fret of storm and asperity of season.  A proleptic
+instinct, stamped by the centuries, inspired this wood; it anticipated
+more sheltered neighbours in autumn, though it lagged behind them in
+spring.  Upon its boughs the last vernal splendour fluttered into
+being, and the first autumnal stain was always visible.  Now beech and
+larch revealed a shadow in their texture of leaf and needle though
+August had not passed, for their foliage was born into elemental
+strife.  Here homed the west wind, and the salt south storms emptied
+their vials; here the last snows lingered, and May frost pinched the
+young green things.
+
+Now roseal and gracious light penetrated the heart of the wood, warmed
+its recesses, and dwelt upon a grass-grown track that wound through the
+midst.  Toward this path by convergent ways there came a man and woman.
+As yet half a mile separated them, for they had entered the wood at
+opposite places; but one desire actuated both, and they moved slowly
+nearer until they met at a tryst in the deep heart of the trees.
+Undergrowth rose about them, and their resort was carefully chosen and
+perfectly concealed.  Here oak closely clad the hill, and granite
+boulders offered an inner rampart against observation.  The man and
+woman were elderly, yet she was still personable, and he retained a
+measure of unusual good looks.  They came to perform a little rite,
+sacred and secret, an event celebrated these many years, and unknown to
+any other human beings but themselves.
+
+Nathan Baskerville put his arms round Priscilla Lintern and drew her
+beside him and kissed her.
+
+"We shall never find it this year, I'm much afraid," he said.  "The
+time is past.  'Tis always later far than other lilies in the garden,
+but not so late as this.  However, I'll do my best."
+
+"No matter for the flower," she answered, "so long as we keep up our
+custom."
+
+A slant flame from the sunset stole deliciously through the dusky
+hiding-places of the wood, and played on the deep mosses and
+fern-crowns and the tawny motley of the earth, spread like a coverlet
+beneath.  Here dead litter of leaf and twig made the covering of the
+ground, and through it sprang various seedling things, presently to
+bear their part in the commonwealth and succeed their forefathers.  The
+ground was amber-bright where the sunshine won to it, and everywhere
+stretched ivy and bramble, gleamed the lemon light of malempyre,
+sparkled green sorrel, and rose dim woodbine that wound its arms around
+the sapling oaks.  Wood-rush and wood-sage prospered together, and
+where water spouted out of the hill there spread green and ruddy
+mosses, embroidered with foliage of marsh violet and crowned by pallid
+umbels of angelica.  The silver of birches flashed hard by, and the
+rowan's berries already warmed to scarlet.
+
+Hither after their meeting came the man and woman, and then Nathan,
+searching sharply, uttered a cry of triumph, and pointed where, at
+their feet, grew certain dark green twayblade leaves that sprouted from
+the grass.  Here dwelt lilies-of-the-valley--their only wild haunt in
+Devon--and the man now made haste to find a blossom and present it to
+his mistress.  But he failed to do so.  Only a dead spike or two
+appeared, and presently he gave up the search with some disappointment.
+
+"They must have bloomed just when I was ill and couldn't come," he said.
+
+"'Tis no matter at all," she answered.  "The thought and the meeting
+here are the good thing.  We'll go back into the wood now, further from
+the path.  To me 'tis marvellous, Nat, to think the crafty world has
+never guessed."
+
+"It is," he admitted.  "And sometimes in my dark moments--however, we
+can leave that to-day.  We're near at the end of our labours, so far as
+the children are concerned.  Cora was always the most difficult.  But
+the future's bright, save for the cash side.  I hope to God 'twill come
+right afore the wedding; but----"
+
+"Go on," she said.  "We can't pretend to be so happy as usual this
+year.  Let's face it.  I know you're worried to death.  But money's
+nought alongside your health.  You're better again; you've shown me
+that clear enough.  And nothing else matters to us."
+
+"Yes, I'm all right, I hope.  But I'm a bit under the weather.  Things
+have gone curiously crooked ever since Vivian died.  I was a fool.  I
+won't disguise that; but somehow my luck seemed so good that a few
+little troubles never looked worth considering.  Then, just before he
+went, I got into a regular thunderstorm.  It blew up against the steady
+wind of my good fortune, as thunderstorms will.  Vivian did me a good
+turn by dying just when he did--I can't deny it; and everything is all
+right now--for all practical purposes.  The silver mine will be a
+wonder of the world by all accounts.  Still, I've had a good deal to
+trouble me, and things look worse when a man's sick."
+
+"Shall you be giving Polly Bassett her money soon?  Heathman tells me
+her husband's grumbling a bit."
+
+"All in good time.  When our Cora is married I shall try and fork out a
+good slice of Vivian's estate.  Ned must have the capital he wants, and
+I've got to find a hundred for Cora's wedding gift."
+
+"Why do that yet?"
+
+"I'll do it if I have to sell myself up," he said fiercely.  "Isn't she
+my first favourite of our three?  Don't I worship the ground she goes
+on, and love her better than anything in the world after you yourself?"
+
+She sighed.
+
+"How it weighs heavier and heavier after all these years!  And I always
+thought 'twould weigh lighter and lighter.  We were fools to have
+childer.  But for them we could have let the world know and been
+married, and gived back the five thousand to your wife's people.  But
+not now--never now, for the children's sake, I suppose."
+
+"They'll know in good time, and none else.  When I come to my end, I'm
+going to tell 'em I'm their father, according to your wish, and because
+I've promised you on my oath to do it; but none else must ever know it;
+and it would be a wiser thing, Priscilla, if you could only see it so,
+that they didn't either."
+
+"They must know, and they shall."
+
+"Well, it may be sooner than anybody thinks.  The position is clear
+enough: I might have married and still kept the five thousand, because
+the lawyers said that my dead wife's wish wouldn't hold water in law;
+but I didn't know that till 'twas too late, and your first child had
+come.  Then we talked it out, and you was content and so was I.  Now
+there are three of them, and though I'd face the music so brave as you
+and go to my grave spurned by all men, if necessary, what would better
+it for them?  Nothing short of an Act of Parliament would make 'em
+legitimate now.  I kept the condition of my dead wife, because you
+urged me to do it and weren't feared of the consequences; but now,
+though I can make you my lawful wife, I can't make them my lawful
+children, and therefore surely 'tis better they shall never know they
+are my children at all?"
+
+"'Twas a promise," she said, "and I hold you to it.  I'm fixed on it
+that they shall know."
+
+"Very well, so it shall be, then.  Only for God's sake look to it for
+everybody's sake that it don't get out after, and ruin you all.  I
+shouldn't sleep in my grave if I thought the life-long secret was
+common knowledge."
+
+"You can trust them to keep it, I should think."
+
+"The girls, yes; but Heathman's so easy and careless."
+
+"Suppose you was to marry me even now, Nat, would that help?"
+
+"I'll do it, as I've always said I'll do it.  But that means I should
+be in honour bound to pay five thousand to my first wife's people.
+Well, I can't--I can't at this moment--not a penny of it.  Just now I'm
+a good deal driven.  In a year or two I might, no doubt; but there's
+that tells me a year or two----"
+
+He put up his hand to his throat.
+
+"You swore to me on your oath that you were better, last time you came
+down by night."
+
+"I was; but--it's here, Priscilla--deep down and----  Maybe 'twill lift
+again, and maybe it won't.  But we must be ready.  I'd give my eternal
+soul if things were a little straighter; but time--plenty of time--is
+wanted for that, and 'tis just time I can't count upon.  I'm not so
+young as I was, and I've not the head for figures I used to have."
+
+"If you don't marry, you've got absolute power to dispose of that five
+thousand.  'Tis yours, in fact.  Yet at best that's a paltry quibble,
+as you've admitted sometimes."
+
+"Leave it," he said.  "Don't let this day be nought but cloud.  We're
+married afore God, but not afore man, because to do that would have
+lost me five thousand pounds.  When I die, I've the right to make over
+that money to you--at least, what's left of it."
+
+"That's a certainty for me and Heathman and Phyllis?"
+
+"Leave it--leave it," he cried irritably.  "You know that what a man
+can do I shall do.  You're more to me than any living thing--much, much
+more.  You're my life, and you've been my life for thirty years--and
+you will be to the end of my life.  I know where I stand and how I
+stand."
+
+"Don't think I'd care to live a day longer than you do, Nat.  Don't
+think I'm careful for myself after you be gone.  'Tis only for your boy
+and girl as I care to know anything."
+
+He took her hand.
+
+"I know you well enough--you priceless woman!" he answered.  "Let's go
+a bit further through the forest.  Come what may, all's got to be
+bright and cheerful at Cora's wedding; and after, when they've got
+their money, I'll have a good go into things with Mr. Popham, my lawyer
+at Cornwood.  He's heard nothing yet, but he shall hear everything.
+Have no fear of the upshot.  I know where I've always trusted, and
+never in vain."
+
+Like two children they walked hand in hand together.  For a long time
+neither spoke, then she addressed him.
+
+"You've taught me to be brave and put a bright face on life afore the
+world, and now I'll not be wanting."
+
+"Well I know that.  'Brave!'  'Tis too mild a a word for you.  You've
+come through your life in a way that would maze the people with wonder
+if they only knew it.  So secret, so patient, so clever.  Never was
+heard or known the like.  A wonderful wife--a wife in ten thousand."
+
+The sun began to sink where Cornwall, like a purple cloud, rose far off
+against the sky; yet still the undulations of the land, mingling with
+glory, melted into each other under the sunset, and still North Wood
+shone above the shadows.  But a deep darkness began to stretch upwards
+into it, where the Dewerstone's immense shade was projected across the
+valley.  At length only the corner of the forest flashed a final fire;
+then that, too, vanished, and the benighted trees sighed and shivered
+and massed themselves into amorphous dimness under the twilight.
+
+The man and woman stopped together a while longer, and after that their
+converse ended.  They caressed and prepared to go back by different
+ways into the world.
+
+"Come good or evil, fair weather or foul, may we have a few happy
+returns yet of this day; and may I live to find you the
+lily-of-the-valley again once or twice before the end," he said.
+
+For answer she kissed him again, but could not trust herself to speak.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+Life is a compromise and a concession.  According to the measure of our
+diplomacy, so much shall we win from our fellows; according to our
+physical endowment, so much will Nature grant.  All men are envoys to
+the court of the world, and it depends upon the power behind them
+whether they are heard and heeded, or slighted and ignored.  To change
+the figure, each among us sets up his little shop in the social mart
+and tries to tempt the buyer; but few are they who expose even
+necessary wares, and fewer still the contemporary purchasers who know a
+treasure when they see it.
+
+An accident now lifted the curtain from Humphrey Baskerville's nature,
+threw him for a day into the companionship of his kind, and revealed to
+passing eyes a gleam of the things hidden within him.  No conscious
+effort on his part contributed to this illumination, for he was
+incapable of making such.  His curse lay in this: that he desired to
+sell, yet lacked wit to win the ear of humanity, or waken interest in
+any buyer's bosom.  Yet now the goods he offered with such ill grace
+challenged attention.  Accident focussed him in a crowd; and first the
+people were constrained to admit his presence of mind at a crisis, and
+then they could not choose but grant the man a heart.
+
+It happened that on the day before Princetown pony fair Mr.
+Baskerville's groom fell ill and had to keep his bed; but twenty ponies
+were already at Princetown.  Only Humphrey and his man knew their exact
+value, and the market promised to be unusually good.  His stock
+represented several hundred pounds, for Mr. Baskerville bred a special
+strain possessing the Dartmoor stamina with added qualities of speed
+and style.  The irony of chance ordained that one who despised all
+sport should produce some of the best polo ponies in the West of
+England.
+
+Mr. Baskerville saw nothing for it but to sell by deputy at loss, or
+withdraw his stock from the fair.  He debated the point with Mrs.
+Hacker, and her common-sense revealed an alternative.
+
+"Lord, man alive, what are you frightened of?" she asked.  "Can't you
+go up along, like any other chap with summat to sell, and get rid of
+your beasts yourself?  You did use to do it thirty year ago, and nobody
+was any the worse, I believe."
+
+He stared at her.
+
+"Go in a crowd like that and barter my things like a huckster?"
+
+"Well, why not?  You'm only made of flesh and bone like t'others.  You
+won't melt away.  'Tis just because you always avoid 'em, that they
+think you give yourself airs, and reckon they ban't good enough company
+for you."
+
+"I don't avoid 'em."
+
+"Yes, you do.  But you'm not the only honest man in the world, though
+sometimes you think you are.  And if you'd ope your eyes wider, you'd
+find a plenty others.  For my part, if I was paid for it, I couldn't
+number more rogues in Shaugh than I can count upon the fingers of both
+hands."
+
+"To go up myself!  Who'd believe it was me if they saw me?"
+
+"They want your ponies, not you; and when it came to paying the price
+of the ponies, they'd soon know 'twas you then."
+
+"I suppose you think I charge too much.  Like your impudence!  Are you
+going?" he asked.
+
+"Why, of course I'm going.  'Tis my only 'out' for the year."
+
+"They'll fancy 'tis the end of the world up at 'Duchy Inn' if I come
+along and take my place at the ordinary."
+
+"No, they won't: they'll be a deal too busy to trouble about you.  You
+go, master, and you'll stand a lot better in your own eyes for going.
+'Twill be a great adventure in your life.  You'm a deal too much up on
+the hill there, along with the foxes and other wild things; and you
+know it."
+
+"I haven't the cut for a revel.  'Tis nonsense to think of my going up."
+
+"To think of it can't do no harm, anyway," she said.  "You think and
+think, and you'll find 'tis your duty as a sensible creature to go."
+
+"Not my duty.  'Twill hurt none if I stay away."
+
+"'Twill hurt your pocket.  You know right well 'tis the proper thing
+that you go.  And if you do, I'll ax for a fairing.  And if you get me
+one, I'll get you one."
+
+"You can put off old age like a garment and be a girl again," he said.
+
+"So I can, then.  'Tis your brother sets that wise fashion, not you.
+He's as lively as a kitten when there's a frolic in the air.  And so be
+I--though all sixty-five.  You should have seen me at giglet market in
+my youth!"
+
+He did not answer; but the next morning he appeared shamefaced and clad
+for the fair.
+
+"Well done, you!" cried Mrs. Hacker.  "Be you going to drive the black
+gig?  I was riding up in the pony-cart along with Mr. Waite's
+housekeeper from Coldstone, but----"
+
+"You can come with me, if you please.  All foolery, and 'tis offering
+to rain--however, I'm going through with the job now.  And mind you
+don't take too much liquor up there.  I know your ways when you get
+with a lot of silly people."
+
+They started presently, and Humphrey made sour remarks at the expense
+of Susan's bonnet.  Then by steep ascent and descent they went their
+way and fell in with other folk also bound for the festivity.  Some
+they passed and some passed them.  Cora Lintern and Ned Baskerville
+drove together in a flashy, high-wheeled dog-cart; and the sight of
+Cora brought a cloud upon Mr. Baskerville.  She was soon gone, however.
+The lofty vehicle slipped by with a glitter of wheels, a puff of dust,
+a shout from Ned as he lifted his whip hand, and a flutter of pale pink
+and blue where Cora sat in her finery.
+
+"Heartless minx!" growled the old man.  "A parrot and a popinjay.  No
+loss to the world if that pair was to break their necks together."
+
+"Don't you tell such speeches as that, there's a good man," answered
+Mrs. Hacker.  "The mischief with your sort is that you be always crying
+out nasty things you don't think; which is just the opposite of us
+sensible people, as only think the nasty things, but take very good
+care for our credit's sake not to say 'em.  None like you for barking;
+and them as hear you bark take it for granted you bite as well.  And
+when I tell 'em you don't bite, they won't believe it."
+
+"Take care I never bite you for so much plain speaking," he said; "and
+I'll thank you to lay hold on the reins while we walk up this hill; for
+I want to read a letter.  'Tis about the ponies from a would-be buyer."
+
+He read and Mrs. Hacker drove.  They traversed the miles of moorland at
+a slow pace, and not a few who passed them displayed surprise at the
+spectacle of Mr. Baskerville on his way to the fair.
+
+At Devil's Bridge, beneath the last long hill into Princetown, a
+vehicle from Shaugh overtook them and the Linterns appeared.  Heathman
+was driving, and beside him sat his mother; while at the back of the
+cart were Nathan Baskerville and Phyllis Lintern.
+
+"Hullo!  Wonders never cease!" cried the publican.  "Good luck and long
+life to you, Humphrey!  Now I couldn't have seen a better sight than
+this.  Hold on!  I want to have a talk afore the fair."
+
+"If you want to talk, I'll onlight and you do the same," said Nathan's
+brother.  "The women can drive on, and we'll walk into Princetown."
+
+Priscilla Lintern and Mrs. Hacker kept their places and drove slowly up
+the hill side by side; but not before Nat had chaffed Susan and
+applauded her holiday bonnet.  Heathman and his sister walked on
+together; the brothers remained behind.
+
+The younger was in uproarious mood.  He laughed and jested and
+congratulated Humphrey on his courage in thus coming among the people.
+
+None would have recognised in this jovial spirit that man who walked
+not long before with a woman in North Wood, and moved heavily under the
+burdens of sickness and of care.  But to Nathan belonged the art of
+dropping life's load occasionally and proceeding awhile in freedom.  He
+felt physically a little better, and intended to enjoy himself to-day
+to the best of his power.  Resolutely he banished the dark clouds from
+his horizon and let laughter and pleasure possess him.
+
+"How's your throat?" asked Humphrey.  "You don't look amiss, but they
+tell me you're not well."
+
+"I hope it may mend.  'Tis up and down with me.  I can't talk so loud
+as once I could, and I can't eat easy; but what's the odds as long as I
+can drink?  I'm all right, and shall be perfectly well again soon, no
+doubt.  And you--what in the name of wonder brings you to a revel?"
+
+"My ponies.  There's twenty and all extra good.  Chapman goes and falls
+ill after the ponies was brought up here.  The fool would bring 'em
+though there's no need.  Buyers are very well content to come to my
+paddocks.  But custom is a tyrant to the old, and if I didn't send to
+the sales, Chapman would think something had gone wrong with the world."
+
+"I'm right glad you're here, and I hope 'tis the beginning of more
+gadding about for you.  'Tis men like you and me that lend weight to
+these meetings.  We ought to go.  'Tis our duty."
+
+"You're better pleased with yourself than I am, as usual."
+
+"We ought to be pleased," answered the other complacently.  "We are the
+salt of the earth--the rock that society is built on."
+
+"Glad you're so well satisfied."
+
+"Not with myself specially; but I'm very well pleased with my class,
+and the older I grow the better I think of it."
+
+"People be like yonder pool--scum at the top and dirt at the bottom,"
+declared Humphrey.  "The sweet water is in the middle; and the useful
+part of the people be the middle part."
+
+"In a way, yes.  We of the lower middle-class are the backbone: the
+nation has to depend on us; but I'm not for saying the swells haven't
+their uses.  Only they'd be nought without us."
+
+"It takes all sorts to make a world.  But leave that.  I ban't up here
+to talk politics.  What does doctor say about your throat?"
+
+"Leave that too.  I'm not here to talk about my health.  I want to
+forget it for a few hours.  The wedding is on my mind just now.  Mrs.
+Lintern and her daughter intend it to be a bit out of the common; and
+so do I.  But the bride's mother's set on it taking place at our
+chapel, and Hester wants it to be at church.  Ned don't care a rush, of
+course."
+
+"It ought to be at church."
+
+"Don't see any pressing reason.  Toss up, I say."
+
+"You should know better than to talk like that.  You Dissenters----"
+
+"No arguments, Humphrey.  But all the same they must be married in
+church or chapel, and since there's such a division of opinion--I'm
+anxious to see Ned married.  'Tis more than time and certainly no fault
+of his that they didn't join sooner.  But Cora had her own ideas
+and----"
+
+"Oblige me by not naming either of them.  You can't expect me to be
+interested.  Even if they were different from what they are, I should
+remember the cruel past too keenly to feel anything good towards either
+of them."
+
+"Let the past go.  You're too wise a man to harbour unkind thoughts
+against headstrong youth.  Let 'em be happy while they can.  They'll
+have their troubles presently, like the rest of us."
+
+"They'll have what they're brewing, no doubt.  Empty, heartless
+wretches--I will say it, feel as you may for Cora."
+
+"I hope you'll live to see her better part.  She's a sensible woman and
+a loving one, for all you think not.  At any rate, you'll come and see
+them married, Humphrey?"
+
+"You can ask me such a thing?"
+
+"Let bygones be bygones."
+
+"What was it you wanted to speak to me about?"
+
+"Just that--the wedding.  I must make it a personal matter.  I attach a
+good deal of importance to it.  I'm very interested in the
+Linterns--wrapped up in them wouldn't be too strong a word for it.
+I'll confess to you that the mother is a good deal to me--my best
+friend in this world.  I owe a lot of my happiness to her.  She's made
+my life less lonely and often said the word in season.  You know what a
+wise woman can be: you was married yourself."
+
+Humphrey did not answer and his brother spoke again.
+
+"There's only us two left now--you and me.  You might pleasure me in
+this matter and come.  Somehow it's grown to be a feeling with me that
+your absence will mar all."
+
+"Stuff!  I've been the death's-head at too many feasts in our family.
+In a word, I won't do it.  I won't be there.  I don't approve of either
+of 'em, and I've not interest enough in 'em now to take me across the
+road to see them."
+
+"If you'll come, the marriage shall be in church.  Priscilla will agree
+if I press it.  I can't offer more than that."
+
+"I won't come, so leave it."
+
+Nathan's high spirits sank for a little while; then Princetown was
+reached and he left his brother and strove to put this pain from him
+for the present, as he had banished all other sources of tribulation.
+He was soon shaking hands with his acquaintance and making merry among
+many friends.  But Humphrey proceeded to the place where his ponies
+were stalled, and immediately began to transact business with those who
+were waiting for him.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+Gipsy blood runs thin in England to-day, but a trickle shall be found
+to survive among the people of the booth and caravan; and glimpses of a
+veritable Romany spirit may yet be enjoyed at lesser fairs and revels
+throughout the country.  By their levity and insolence; by their quick
+heels and dark faces; by the artist in them; by their love of beauty
+and of music; by their skill to charm money from the pockets of the
+slow-thinking folk; and by their nimble wits you shall know them.
+
+A few mongrels of the race annually find Princetown, and upon days of
+revel may there be seen at shooting-galleries, 'high-fliers,' and
+'roundabouts.'
+
+Here they are chaffing the spectators and cajoling pennies from young
+and old; here, astounding the people by their lack of
+self-consciousness; here, singing or dancing; here, chafering; here,
+driving hard bargains for the local ponies; here, changing their
+doubtful coins for good ones, or raising strife between market-merry
+folk and prospering from the quarrels of honest men, after the manner
+of their kind.
+
+Two streams of holiday-makers drifted through each other and through
+the little fair.  They passed up and down the solitary street, loitered
+and chattered, greeted friends, listened to the din of the music, to
+the altercations of the customers and salesmen, to the ceaseless
+laughter of children and whinny of the ponies.
+
+On either side of that open space spread in the village midst, an array
+of carts had been drawn up, and against these barricades were tethered
+various animals which the vehicles had brought.  They stood or reposed
+on litter of fern and straw cast down for them.
+
+Here were pigs, flesh-coloured and black, and great raddled rams in a
+panting row.  Amid the brutes tramped farmers and their men.
+
+The air was full of the smell of live mutton and swine; and among
+them--drifting, stopping in thoughtful knots, arguing, and laughing
+heavily, the slow-eyed yokels came and went.  The rams bleated and
+dribbled and showed in a dozen ways their hatred of this publicity; the
+pigs cared not, but exhibited a stoic patience.
+
+Upon the greensward beside the road stood separate clusters of guarded
+ponies.  Old and young they were, gainly and ungainly, white, black,
+and brown, with their long manes and tails often bleached to a rusty
+pallor by the wind and sun.
+
+In agitated groups the little creatures stood.  Company cried to
+company with equine language, and the air was full of their squealings,
+uttered in long-drawn protests or sudden angry explosions.
+
+Occasionally a new drove from afar would arrive and trot to its place
+in double and treble ranks--a passing billow of black and bright russet
+or dull brown, with foam of tossing manes, flash of frightened eyes,
+and soft thud and thunder of many unshod hoofs.
+
+The people now came close, now scattered before a pair of uplifted
+heels where a pony, out of fear, showed temper.  The exhibits were very
+unequal.  Here a prosperous man marshalled a dozen colts; here his
+humbler neighbour could bring but three or four to market.  Sometimes
+the group consisted of no more than a mare and foal at foot.
+
+Round about were children, who from far off had ridden some solitary
+pony to the fair, and hoped that they might get the appointed price and
+carry money home to their parents or kinsfolk.
+
+Hanging close on every side to the main business and thrusting in where
+space offered for a stall, rows of small booths sprang up; while beyond
+them on waste land stood the merry-go-rounds, spinning to bray of
+steam-driven organs, the boxing-tent, the beast show and the arena,
+where cocoanuts were lifted on posts against a cloth.
+
+Here worked the wanderers and played their parts with shout and song;
+but at the heart of the fair more serious merchants stood above their
+varied wares, and with unequal skill and subtlety won purchasers.
+These men displayed divergent methods, all based on practical
+experience of human nature.
+
+A self-assertive and defiant spirit sold braces and leather thongs and
+buckles.  His art was to pretend the utmost indifference to his
+audience; he seemed not to care whether they purchased his goods or no,
+yet let it be clearly understood that none but a fool would miss the
+opportunities he offered.
+
+A cheap-jack over against the leather-seller relied upon humour and
+sleight of hand.  He sold watches that he asserted to be gold; but he
+was also prepared to furnish clocks of baser metal for more modest
+purses.  He dwelt upon the quality of the goods, and defied his
+audience to find within the width and breadth of the United Kingdom
+such machinery at such a price.  He explained also very fully that he
+proposed to return among them next year, with a special purpose to make
+good any defective timepieces that might by evil chance lurk
+unsuspected amid his stock.  He reminded them he had been among them
+during the previous year also, as a guarantee of his good faith.
+
+Beyond him a big, brown half-caste sold herb pills and relied upon a
+pulpit manner for his success.  He came with a message of physical
+salvation from the God of the Christians.
+
+He mingled dietetics and dogma; he prayed openly; he showed emotion; he
+spoke of Nature and the Power above Nature; he called his Maker to
+witness that nothing but the herbs of the field had gone to make his
+medicine.
+
+He had good store of long words with which to comfort rustic ears.  He
+spoke of 'a palliative,' 'a febrifuge,' and 'a panacea.'  He wanted but
+three-pence for each box, and asserted that the blessing of the Lord
+accompanied his physic.
+
+"Why am I here?" he asked.  "Who sent me?  I tell you, men and women,
+that God sent me.  We must not carry our light under a bushel.  We must
+not hide a secret that will turn a million unhappy men and women into a
+million happy men and women.  God gave me this secret, and though I
+would much sooner be sitting at home in my luxurious surroundings,
+which have come to me as the result of selling this blessed corrective
+of all ills of the digestion and alimentary canals, yet--no--this world
+is no place for idleness and laziness.  So I am here with my pills, and
+I shall do my Master's work so long as I have hands to make the
+medicine and a voice to proclaim it.  And in Christ's own blessed words
+I can say that where two or three just persons are gathered together,
+there am I in the midst of them, my friends--there am I in the midst of
+them!"
+
+Amid the welter of earth-colour, dun and grey there flashed yellow or
+scarlet, where certain Italian women moved in the crowd.  They sold
+trinkets, or offered to tell fortunes with the aid of little green
+parakeets in cages.
+
+The blare and grunt of coarse melody persisted; and the people at the
+booths babbled ceaselessly where they sold their sweetmeats, cakes, and
+fruit.  Some were anchored under little awnings; some moved their goods
+about on wheels with flags fluttering to attract attention.
+
+Old and young perambulated the maze.  Every manner of man was gathered
+here.  Aged and middle-aged, youthful and young, grey and white, black
+and brown, bearded and shorn, all came and went together.  Some passed
+suspicious and moody; some stood garrulous, genial, sanguine, according
+to their fortunes or fancied fortunes in the matter of sale and barter.
+
+And later in the day, by the various roads that stretch north, south,
+and west from Princetown, droves of ponies began to wend, some with
+cheerful new masters; many with gloomy owners, who had nothing to show
+but their trouble for their pains.
+
+This spacious scene was hemmed in by a rim of sad-coloured waste and
+ragged hills, while overhead the grey-ribbed sky hung low and shredded
+mist.
+
+Humphrey Baskerville had sold his ponies in an hour, and was preparing
+to make a swift departure when accident threw him into the heart of a
+disturbance and opened the way to significant incidents.
+
+The old man met Jack Head and was speaking with him, but suddenly Jack
+caught the other by his shoulders and pulled him aside just in time to
+escape being knocked over.  A dozen over-driven bullocks hurtled past
+them with sweating flanks and dripping mouths.  Behind came two
+drovers, and a brace of barking dogs hung upon the flanks of the weary
+and frightened cattle.
+
+Suddenly, as the people parted, a big brute, dazed and maddened by the
+yelping dogs now at his throat, now at his heels, turned and dashed
+into the open gate of a cottage by the way.
+
+The door of the dwelling stood open and before man or sheepdog had time
+to turn him, the reeking bullock had rushed into the house.  There was
+a crash within, the agonised yell of a child and the scream of a woman.
+
+Then rose terrified bellowings from the bullock, where it stood jammed
+in a passageway with two frantic dogs at its rear.
+
+A crowd collected, and Mr. Baskerville amazed himself by rushing
+forward and shouting a direction.  "Get round, somebody, and ope the
+back door!"
+
+A woman appeared at the cottage window with a screaming and bloody
+child in her arms.
+
+"There's no way out; there's no way out," she cried.  "There's no door
+to the garden!"
+
+"Get round; get round!  Climb over the back wall," repeated
+Baskerville.  Then he turned to the woman.  "Ope the window and come
+here, you silly fool!" he said.
+
+She obeyed, and Humphrey found the injured child was not much hurt,
+save for a wound on its arm.  Men soon opened the rear door of the
+cottage and drove the bullock out of the house; then they turned him
+round in the garden and drove him back again through the house into the
+street.
+
+The hysterical woman regarded Mr. Baskerville as her saviour and
+refused to leave his side.  The first drover offered her a shilling for
+the damage and the second stopped to wrangle with Jack Head, who blamed
+him forcibly.
+
+"'Twas the dogs' fault--anybody could see that," he declared.  "We're
+not to blame."
+
+"The dogs can't pay, you silly fool," answered Head.  "If you let loose
+a dog that don't know his business, you've got to look out for the
+trouble he makes.  'Tis the devil's own luck for you as that yowling
+child wasn't killed.  And now you want to get out of it for nought!
+There's a pound's worth of cloam smashed in there."
+
+The woman, who was alone, sent messengers for her husband, but they
+failed to find him; then she declared that Mr. Baskerville should
+assess the amount of her claim and the people upheld her.  Thus most
+reluctantly he was thrust into a sort of prominence.
+
+"You was the only one with sense to tell 'em what to do; and so you'd
+better finish your good job and fix the price of the breakages," said
+Jack.
+
+The man with the bullocks, when satisfied that Humphrey would be
+impartial and indifferent to either party, agreed to this proposal, and
+Mr. Baskerville, quite bewildered by such a sudden notoriety, entered
+the cottage, calculated the damage done, and soon returned.
+
+"You've got to pay ten shillings," he said.  "Your bullock upset a tray
+and smashed a terrible lot of glass and china.  He also broke down four
+rails of the balusters and broke a lamp that hung over his head.  The
+doctor will charge a shilling for seeing to the child's arm also.  So
+that's the lowest figure in fairness.  Less it can't be."
+
+The drover cursed and swore at this.  He was a poor man and would be
+ruined.  His master would not pay, and if the incident reached
+headquarters his work must certainly be taken from him.  None offered
+to help and Humphrey was firm.
+
+"Either pay and thank God you're out of it so easily," he said, "or
+tell us where you come from."
+
+The drovers talked together, and then they strove to bate the charges
+brought against them.  Their victim, now grown calmer, agreed to take
+seven shillings, but Mr. Baskerville would not hear of this.  He
+insisted upon observance of his ruling, and the man with the bullocks
+at length brought out a leather purse and counted from it seven
+shillings.  To these his companion added three.
+
+Then the leader flung the money on the ground, and to accompaniment of
+laughter and hisses hastened after his stock.  The cattle were not for
+Princetown, and soon both men and their cavalcade plodded onward again
+into the peace and silence of a mist-clad moor.
+
+They cursed themselves weary, kicked the offending dog and, with a
+brute instinct to revenge their mishap, smote and bruised the head of
+the bullock responsible for this misfortune when it stopped to drink at
+a pool beside the road.
+
+Humphrey Baskerville won a full measure of applause on this occasion.
+He took himself off as swiftly as possible afterwards; but words were
+spoken of approval and appreciation, and he could not help hearing
+them.  His heart grew hot within him.  A man shouted after him, "Good
+for the old Hawk!"
+
+Before he had driven off, Nathan Baskerville met him at 'The Duchy
+Hotel' and strove to make him drink.
+
+"A drop you must have along with me," he said.  "Why, there's a dozen
+fellows in the street told me how you handled those drovers.  You ought
+to have the Commission of the Peace, that's what you ought to have.
+You're cut out for it."
+
+"A lot of lunatics," answered the elder.  "No presence of mind in fifty
+of 'em.  Nought was done by me.  The job might have cost a life, but it
+didn't, so enough's said.  I won't drink.  I must get back home."
+
+"Did the ponies go off well?"
+
+"Very.  If you see Susan Hacker, tell her I've gone.  The old fool's on
+one of they roundabouts, I expect.  And if she breaks it down, she
+needn't come back to me for the damages."
+
+"A joke!  A joke from you!  This is a day of wonders, to be sure!"
+cried Nathan.  "Now crown all and come along o' me, and we'll find the
+rest of the family and the Linterns, and all have a merry-go-round
+together!"
+
+But his brother was gone, and Nathan turned and rejoined a party of
+ram-buyers in the street.
+
+Elsewhere Mrs. Lintern and Mrs. Baskerville walked together.  Their
+hearts were not in the fair, but they spoke of the pending marriage and
+hoped that a happy union was in store for Ned and Cora.
+
+The young couple themselves tasted such humble delights as the fair
+could offer, but Cora's pleasure was represented by the side glances of
+other girls, and she regarded the gathering as a mere theatre for her
+own display.  Ned left her now and again and then returned.  Each time
+he came back he lifted his hat to her and exhibited some new sign of
+possession.
+
+Cora affected great airs and a supercilious play of eyebrow that
+impressed the other young women.  She condescended to walk round the
+fair and regarded this perambulation as a triumph, until the man who
+sold watches marked her among his listeners, observed her vanity, and
+raised a laugh at her expense.  Then she lost her temper and declared
+her wish to depart.  She was actually going when there came up Milly
+and her husband, Rupert Baskerville.
+
+Ned whispered to his sister-in-law to save the situation if possible,
+and Milly with some tact and some good fortune managed to do so.
+
+Cora smoothed her ruffled feathers and joined the rest of the family at
+the inn.  There all partook of the special ordinary furnished on this
+great occasion to the countryside.
+
+In another quarter Thomas Gollop, Joe Voysey and their friends took
+pleasure after their fashion.  Every man won some sort of satisfaction
+from the fair and held his day as well spent.
+
+Perhaps few could have explained what drew them thither or kept them
+for many hours wandering up and down, now drinking, now watching the
+events of the fair, now eating, now drinking again.  But so the day
+passed with most among them, and not until evening darkened did the
+mist thicken into rain and seriously damp the proceedings.
+
+Humphrey Baskerville, well pleased with his sales and even better
+pleased with the trivial incident of the bullock, went his way homeward
+and was glad to be gone.  His state of mind was such that he gave alms
+to two mournful men limping slowly on crutches into Princetown.  Each
+of these wounded creatures had lost a leg, and one lacked an arm also.
+They dragged along a little barrel-organ that played hymns, and their
+faces were thin, anxious, hunger-bitten.
+
+These men stopped Mr. Baskerville, but not to beg.  They desired to
+know the distance yet left to traverse before they reached the fair.
+
+"We set out afore light from Dousland, but we didn't know what a
+terrible road 'twas," said one.  "You see, with but a pair o' legs
+between us, we can't travel very fast."
+
+Humphrey considered, and his heart being uplifted above its customary
+level of caution, he acted with most unusual impulse and served these
+maimed musicians in a manner that astounded them.  His only terror was
+that somebody might mark the deed; but this did not happen, and he
+accomplished his charity unseen.
+
+"It's up this hill," he said; "but the hill's a steep one, and the fair
+will be half over afore you get there at this gait."
+
+The men shrugged their shoulders and prepared to stump on.
+
+"Get in," said Mr. Baskerville.  "Get in, the pair of you, and I'll run
+you to the top."
+
+He alighted and helped them to lift their organ up behind, while they
+thanked him to the best of their power.  They talked and he listened as
+he drove them; and outside the village, on level ground, he dropped
+them again and gave them half-a-crown.  Much heartened and too
+astonished to display great gratitude, they crawled upon their way
+while Humphrey turned again.
+
+The taste of the giving was good to the old man, and its flavour
+astonished him.  He overtook the drovers and their cattle presently,
+and it struck him that this company it was who had made the day so
+remarkable for him.
+
+He half determined with himself to stop and speak with them and even
+restore the money he had exacted; for well he knew the gravity of their
+loss.
+
+But, unfortunately for themselves, the twain little guessed what was in
+his mind; they still smarted from their disaster, and when they saw the
+cause of it they swore at him, shook their fists and threatened to do
+him evil if opportunity offered.
+
+Whereupon Mr. Baskerville hardened his heart, kept his money in his
+pocket and drove forward.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+The sensitive Cora could endure no shadow of ridicule.  To laugh at her
+was to anger her, for she took herself too seriously, the common error
+of those who do not take their fellow-creatures seriously enough.
+When, therefore, she committed a stupid error and Ned chaffed her about
+it, there sprang up a quarrel between them, and Cora, in her wounded
+dignity, even went so far as to talk of postponing marriage.
+
+Nathan Baskerville explained the complication to a full bar; and when
+he had done so the tide of opinion set somewhat against Ned's future
+bride.
+
+"You must know that Phyllis Lintern has gone away from home, and last
+thing she did before she went was to ask Cora to look after a nice
+little lot of young ducks that belonged to her and were coming forward
+very hopeful.  Of course, Cora said she would, and one day, mentioning
+it to my nephew Rupert's wife, Milly told her that the heads of
+nettles, well chopped up, were splendid food for young ducks.  Wishful
+to please Phyllis and bring on the birds, what does Cora do but busy
+herself for 'em?  She gets the nettle-tops and chops 'em up and gives
+'em to the ducklings; and of course the poor wretches all sting their
+throats and suffocate themselves.  For why?  Because she let 'em have
+the food raw!  We all know she ought to have boiled the nettles.  And a
+good few have laughed at her about it and made her a bit savage."
+
+"That's no reason, surely, why she should quarrel with her sweetheart.
+'Twasn't his fault," declared Jack Head, who was in the bar.
+
+"None in the world; but Ned joked her and made her rather snappy.  In
+fact, he went on a bit too long.  You can easily overdo a thing like
+that.  And none of us like a joke at our expense to be pushed too far."
+
+"It shows what a clever woman she is, all the same," declared Mr.
+Voysey; "for when Ned poked fun at her first, which he did coming out
+of church on Sunday, I was by and heard her.  What d'you think she
+said?  'You don't boil thistles for a donkey,' says she, 'so how was
+anybody to know you boil nettles for a duck?' Pretty peart that--eh?"
+
+"So it was," declared Nathan.  "Very sharp, and a good argument for
+that matter.  I've bought Phyllis a dozen new birds and nothing more
+need come of it; but Ned's a bit of a fool here and there, and he
+hadn't the sense to let well alone; and now she's turned on him."
+
+"He'll fetch her round, a chap so clever with the girls as him," said
+Voysey; whereupon Timothy Waite, who was of the company, laughed
+scornfully.
+
+"How can that man be clever at anything?" he asked.  "Here's his own
+uncle.  Be Ned clever at anything on God's earth but spending money,
+Mr. Baskerville?  Come now!  An honest answer."
+
+"Yes," replied Nathan promptly.  "He was never known to fall off a
+horse."
+
+The laugh rose against Timothy, for the farmer's various abilities did
+not extend to horsemanship.  He had been thrown a week before and still
+went a little lame.
+
+"Ned's all right," added Jack Head.  "Lazy, no doubt--like everybody
+else who can be.  But he's generous and good-hearted, and no man's
+enemy.  The girl's a fool to keep him dangling.  A little more of it
+and he'll--however, I'll not meddle in other people's business."
+
+Mr. Gollop entered at this moment and saw his foe.
+
+"Do I hear John Head saying that he don't meddle with other people's
+business?" asked the sexton.  "Gin cold, please.  Well, well; since
+when have Head made that fine rule?"
+
+"Drink your gin," said Jack, "and then have another.  You ban't worth
+talking to till you've got a drop of liquor in you.  When you're tuned
+up I'll answer you.  How's Masterman getting on?  He must be a patient
+man, or else a terrible weak one, to have you still messing about the
+church."
+
+"Better you leave the church alone," retorted Thomas.  "You'd pull down
+every church in the land if you could; and if it wasn't for men like
+me, as withstand your sort and defy you, there'd very soon be no law
+and order in the State."
+
+"'Tis your blessed church where there's no law and order," answered
+Jack.  "The State's all right so long as the Liberals be in; but a
+house divided against itself falleth.  You won't deny that.  And that's
+the hobble you Christians have come to.  And so much the easier work
+for my side--to sweep the whole quarrelsome, narrow-minded boiling of
+you to the devil."
+
+"Stop there, Jack!" cried Mr. Baskerville.  "No religion in this bar
+and no politics.  You know the rules."
+
+"Let him go on," said Gollop gloomily.  "There's a bitter truth in what
+he says.  We're not shoulder to shoulder and none can pretend we are.
+Take Masterman--that man!  What did he say only this morning in vestry?
+'Gollop,' he said, 'the roots are being starved.  If we don't get rain
+pretty quick there'll be no turnips--no, nor mangolds neither.'"
+
+Half a dozen raised their voices in support of this assertion.
+
+"That's truth anyway," declared Timothy.  "Never knew such a beastly
+drought at this season.  Even rain will not bring the crop up to
+average weight now.  It's beyond nature to do it."
+
+"Well, he's going to pray for rain," said Gollop.  "Next Sunday we
+shall ax for 'moderate rain and showers.'"
+
+"Well, why not?" asked Nathan.  "That's what the man's there for
+surely."
+
+"Why not?  Because the glass is up 'pon top of everything, and the
+wind's in the east steady as a rock.  That's why not.  You don't want
+prayer to be turned into a laughing-stock.  We don't want our ministers
+to fly in the face of Providence, do we?  To pray for rain at present
+be equally mad as to pray for snow.  'Tis just courting failure.  Then
+this here man, Jack Head, and other poisonous members, will laugh, like
+Elijah when he drawed on them false prophets, and say our Jehovah be
+asleep."
+
+"Not me," answered Head.  "'Tis your faith be asleep.  You've given
+your side away properly now, my bold hero!  So you've got such a poor
+opinion of your Jehovah that you reckon to ax Him to take the wind out
+of the east be going too far?  But you're right.  Your God can't do it.
+All the same, Masterman's a better Christian than you."
+
+"You speak as a rank atheist, Jack," said Timothy Waite.  "And what
+sense there is in you is all spoiled because you're so fierce and sour."
+
+"Not me--far from it.  We was talking of Jehovah, I believe, and
+there's no law against free speech now, so I've a right to say my say
+without being called to order by you or any man.  Tom here don't trust
+his God to bring rain when the glass is set fair; and I say that he be
+perfectly right--that's all.  Gollop ought to have the faith that moves
+mountains, no doubt; but he hasn't.  He can't help feeling terrible
+shaky when it comes to a challenge.  That's the good my side's doing,
+though he do swear at us.  We're making the people common-sensible.
+Faith have had a long run for its money.  Now we're going to give Works
+a bit of a show.  Masterman fawns on Jehovah like a spaniel bitch, and
+thinks that all this shoe-licking be going to soften the God of the
+stars.  But if there was a God, He'd be made of sterner stuff than man
+makes Him.  We shouldn't get round Him, like a naughty boy round a weak
+father.  In fact, you might so well try to stop a runaway steam-roller
+by offering it a cabbage-leaf, as to come round a working God by
+offering Him prayers."
+
+"How you can stand this under your roof, Nathan, I'm blessed if I
+know," grumbled Mr. Gollop.  "'Tis very evil speaking, and no good will
+come to you by it."
+
+"Light will shine even on this man afore the end," declared the
+innkeeper.  "God will explain as much as is good for Jack to know.  He
+shows each of us as much as we can bear to see--like He did Moses.  If
+Jehovah was to shine too bright on the likes of Head here, He'd dazzle
+the man and blind him."
+
+"God will explain--eh?  That's what you said, Nat.  Then why don't He
+explain?  I'm a reasonable man.  I'm quite ready and willing to hear.
+But 'twill take God all His time to explain some of His hookem-snivey
+tricks played on honest, harmless humans.  Let's hear first why He let
+the snake into the garden at all, to fool those two poor grown-up
+children.  You talk about original sin!  'Tis a dirty lie against human
+nature.  If you're in the right, 'twas your God sent it--stuck the tree
+under Eve's nose--just as if I put a bunch of poison berries in a
+baby's hand and said, 'You mustn't eat 'em,' and then left the rest to
+chance and an enemy.  Who'd be blamed if the child ate and died?  Why,
+I should.  And jury would bring it in murder--quite right too.  Look at
+your God's blackguard doings against all they peaceful people He set
+His precious Jews against!  Shameful, I call it.  Driving 'em out of
+their countries, harrying 'em, killing 'em by miracles, because He
+knowed the Jews wasn't good men enough to do it.  Chosen people!  A
+pretty choice!  He's been judging us ever since He made us; now let's
+judge Him a bit, and see what His games look like to the eyes of a
+decently taught Board School boy."
+
+"You'll roast for this, John Head, and well you'll deserve it," said
+Mr. Gollop.
+
+"Not I, Thomas.  I've just as much right to crack a joke against your
+ugly, short-tempered Jehovah as you would have to laugh at the tuft of
+feathers on the end of a pole that foreign savages might call God.
+There's not a pin to choose betwixt them and you."
+
+"We can only hope you'll have the light afore you've gone too far,
+Jack," said Nathan.  "You're getting up home to sixty, and I'm sure I
+hope God's signal-post will rise up on your path afore you go much
+further."
+
+"'Tis certainly time," answered Head.  "And if your God's in earnest
+and wants to put me right, the sooner He begins the better for us
+both--for my salvation and His credit."
+
+"He's got His holy self-respect, however," argued Gollop.  "If I was
+Him, I'd not give myself a thought over the likes of you.  'Good
+riddance'--that's what I should say."
+
+"If you was God for five minutes I wonder what you'd do, Tom,"
+speculated Joe Voysey.  "Give me a new back, I hope.  That's the first
+favour I should ax."
+
+"I'd catch you up into heaven, Joe.  That's the kindest thing the
+Almighty could do for you."
+
+But Voysey looked doubtful.
+
+"If you was to wait till I gived the word, 'twould be better," he said.
+"Nobody wants to leave his job unfinished."
+
+"A good brain gone to rot--that's what's happened to you, Jack," said
+Nathan sadly.  "Lord, He only knows why you are allowed to think such
+thoughts.  No doubt there's a reason for it, since nought can happen
+without a reason; but the why and wherefore are hid from us common men,
+like much else that's puzzling.  Anyway, we can stick to this--we
+Christians: though you've got no use for God, Jack, 'tis certain that
+God's got a use for you; and there may be those among us who will live
+to see what that use is."
+
+"Well, I'm ready for a whisper," declared the free-thinker.  "He won't
+have to tell me twice--if He only makes His meaning clear the first
+time."
+
+They talked a little longer, and then Heathman Lintern came among them.
+
+"Be Jack Head here?" he asked.  "The chimney to his house have took
+fire seemingly, and policeman's made a note of it.  But 'twas pretty
+near out when I come by."
+
+"Hell!" cried Jack.  "That's another five shilling gone!"
+
+He left hurriedly to the tune of laughter, and failed to hear Gollop's
+triumphant final argument.
+
+"There!  There!" shouted the sexton.  "There 'tis--'hell' in his
+everyday speech!  He can't get away from it: 'tis part of nature and a
+common item--just as natural as heaven.  And argue as he pleases, the
+moment he's took out of himself, the truth slips.  Well may he say
+'hell'!  There's nobody living round here will ever have more cause to
+say it.  And that he'll find long afore I, or another, drop the clod on
+his bones."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+Thanks more to the diplomacy of Nathan Baskerville than Ned's own skill
+in reconciliation, Cora forgave her lover and their marriage day was
+fixed.  Not a few noticed that the master of 'The White Thorn' held
+this union much to heart, and indeed appeared more interested in its
+achievement than any other save Ned himself.
+
+A change had come over Nathan and his strength failed him.  The
+affection of his throat gained upon him and his voice grew weaker.  He
+resented allusions to the fact and declared that he was well.  Only his
+doctor and Priscilla Lintern knew the truth; and only she understood
+that much more than physical tribulation was responsible for the
+innkeeper's feverish activity of mind and unsleeping energy poured
+forth in secret upon affairs.
+
+The extent of this immense diligence and devotion was hidden even from
+her.  She supposed that a temporary cloud had passed away; and she
+ceased not, therefore, from begging him to save his powers and so
+afford himself an opportunity to recover.
+
+But the man believed that he was doomed, and suspected that his life
+could only be held upon uncertain tenure of months.
+
+The doctor would not go so far as this gloomy opinion; yet he did not
+deny that it might be justified.
+
+Nathan felt no doubt in his own mind, and he believed that Cora's
+wedding was the last considerable event of a personal and precious
+nature that he could hope to see accomplished.
+
+Afterwards, but not until he found himself upon his deathbed, the
+innkeeper designed a confession.  Circumstances and justice, as he
+conceived it, must make this avowal private; but those most interested
+were destined to know the hidden truth concerning themselves.  He had
+debated the matter with Priscilla, since decision rested with her; but
+she was of his mind and, indeed, had been the first to suggest this
+course.
+
+Cora's shopping roused all the household of Undershaugh to a high pitch
+of exasperation.  Much to the girl's surprise her mother produced fifty
+pounds for a wedding outfit, and the bride employed agreeable days in
+Plymouth while she expended this handsome gift.
+
+A house had been taken at Plympton.  The face of it was 'genteel' in
+Cora's estimation; but the back was not.  However, the rear premises
+satisfied Ned, and its position with respect to town and country suited
+them both.
+
+There remained contracts and settlements, in which Nathan Baskerville
+represented both parties.  Ned was generous and indifferent; Cora
+exhibited interest and a faculty for grasping details.  She told
+herself that it was only reasonable and wise to do so.
+
+At any time the reckless Ned might break his neck; at any time the
+amorous Ned might find her not all-sufficing.  No sentiment obscured
+Cora's outlook.  She astounded Nathan Baskerville by the shrewdness of
+her stipulations.
+
+Few prophesied much joy of this marriage, and even Priscilla, albeit
+Nathan was impatient at her doubts, none the less entertained
+misgivings.  She knew the truth of her daughter, and had long since
+learned the truth concerning young Baskerville.
+
+Those who desired to comfort her foretold that man and wife would go
+each their own way and mind each their own business and pleasure.  Not
+the most sanguine pretended to suppose that Ned and Cora would unite in
+any bonds of close and durable affection.
+
+The man's mother trusted that Cora's common-sense and practical spirit
+might serve as a steady strain to curb his slothful nature; but May
+Baskerville was the only living soul who, out of her warm heart and
+trusting disposition, put faith in his marriage to lift her brother
+toward a seemly and steadfast position in the ranks of men.
+
+At Hawk House the subject of the wedding might not be mentioned.  In
+consequence renewed coolness had arisen between the brothers.  Then
+came a rumour to Humphrey's ear that Nathan was ill, and he felt
+concern.  The old man had no eye to mark physical changes.  He was slow
+to discern moods or read the differences of facial expression, begot by
+mental trouble on the one hand and bodily suffering on the other.
+
+Now, greatly to his surprise, he heard that Nathan began to be very
+seriously indisposed.  The news came to him one morning a month before
+Cora's wedding.  Heathman Lintern called upon the subject of a
+stallion, and mentioned casually that Humphrey's brother had lost his
+voice and might never regain it.
+
+"'Tis terrible queer in the bar at 'The White Thorn' not to hear him
+and to know we never may no more," he said.  "He's gone down and down
+very gradual; but now he can only whisper.  'Tis a wisht thing to lose
+the power of speech--like a living death, you might say."
+
+"When did this happen?  I've marked no change, though 'tis a good few
+weeks now since I spoke with him."
+
+"It comed gradual, poor chap."
+
+Humphrey rose and prepared on the instant to start for Shaugh.
+
+"I must see the man," he said.  "We're out for the minute owing to this
+wedding.  But, since he's fallen ill, I must go to him.  We'll hope
+'tis of no account."
+
+They set out together and Heathman was mildly surprised to learn the
+other's ignorance.
+
+"He keeps it so close; but you can't hide your face.  We've all marked
+it.  The beard of the man's grown so white as if the snow had settled
+on it, and his cheeks be drawed too.  For my part I never felt nothing
+in life to make me go down-daunted afore, except when your son Mark
+died; but, somehow, Nat Baskerville be a part of the place and the best
+part.  I've got a great feeling towards him.  'Tis making us all very
+uncomfortable.  Especially my mother.  He talks to her a lot, feeling
+how more than common wise she be; and she knows a lot about him.  She's
+terrible down over it and, in fact, 'tis a bad job all round, I'm
+afraid."
+
+Humphrey's answer was to quicken his pace.
+
+"He kept it from me," he replied.  "I suppose he thought I ought to
+have seen it for myself.  Or he might have wrongly fancied I didn't
+care."
+
+"Everybody cares--such a wonderful good sort as him.  'Twill cast a
+gloom over this blessed wedding.  I wish to God 'twas over and done
+with--the wedding, I mean--since it's got to be."
+
+"Why do you wish that?"
+
+"Because I'm sick of the thing and that awnself[1] baggage, my sister.
+God's truth!  To watch her getting ready.  Everything's got to go down
+afore her, like the grass afore the scythe.  You may work your fingers
+to the bone and never get a thank you.  I had a row with her last
+night, and she got lashing me with her tongue till I rose up and
+fetched her a damned hard box on the ear, grown woman though she is.
+My word, it tamed her too!  'There!' I said.  'That's better than all
+the words in the dictionary.  You keep your snake's tongue between your
+teeth,' I said.  There's no answering her with words, but if her
+husband has got a pinch of sense, which he hasn't, he'll do well to
+give her a hiding at the start.  It acted like a charm."
+
+
+[1] _Awnself_--selfish.
+
+
+"Don't want to hear nothing about that.  They're making their own bed,
+and 'twill be uneasy lying," said Humphrey.  "Leave them, and talk of
+other things."
+
+"Very pleased," answered Lintern.  "Ban't a subject I'm fond of.
+Undershaugh without Cora would be a better place to live in--I know
+that and I say it.  And my mother knows it too; though say it she
+won't."
+
+They talked on various subjects, and Heathman informed Mr. Baskerville
+that he would soon be a great-uncle.
+
+"Rupert's wife be going to have a babby--that's the last news.  I heard
+it yester-eve at 'The White Thorn.'"
+
+"Is that so?  They might have told me, you'd think.  Yet none has.
+They kept it from me."
+
+"Holding it for a surprise; or maybe they didn't think 'twould interest
+you."
+
+"No doubt that was the reason," answered Humphrey.
+
+And then he spoke no more, but worked his own thoughts into a ferment
+of jealous bitterness until the village was reached.  Arrived, he took
+no leave of Heathman, but forgot his presence and hastened to the inn.
+Nathan was standing at the door in his apron, and the brothers entered
+together.
+
+"What's this I hear?" said Humphrey as they entered the other's private
+chamber.
+
+"Well, I'm ill, to be frank.  In fact, very ill.  I'd hoped to hide it
+up till after the wedding; but my voice has pretty well gone, you see.
+Gone for good.  You'll never hear it again.  But that won't trouble you
+much--eh?"
+
+"I should have marked something wrong when last we met, no doubt.  But
+you angered me a bit, and angry men are like drunken ones; their senses
+fail them.  I didn't see or hear what had happed to you.  Now I look
+and listen, I mark you're bad.  What does the doctor say?"
+
+"'Tis what he don't say.  But I've got it out of him.  He took me to
+Plymouth a month ago--to some very clever man there.  I've talked such
+a lot in my life that I deserve to be struck dumb--such a chatterbox as
+I have been."
+
+"Is that all?"
+
+"For the present.  We needn't go beyond that.  I shall soon get used to
+listening instead of talking.  Maybe I'll grow wiser for it."
+
+"That wasn't all they told you?"
+
+Nathan looked round and shut the door which stood ajar behind them.
+
+"There's no hiding anything from you that you want to find out.  As a
+matter of fact, I'm booked.  I know it.  'Tis only a question of--of
+months--few or many.  They give me time to put things as straight--as
+straight as I can."
+
+"So like as not they lie.  You'll do better to go off to London while
+you may, and get the best opinion up there."
+
+"I would, if 'twas only to pleasure you.  But that's no use now."
+
+"Can you let down your food easy?"
+
+Nathan shook his head.
+
+"I dare not eat in company no more," he said; "it's here."  He put his
+hand to his throat and then drew it down.
+
+"You don't suffer, I hope?"
+
+Nathan nodded.
+
+"I can tell you, but I trust you not to let it out to any soul.  We
+must have the wedding off cheerful and bright.  I shall keep going till
+then, if I'm careful.  Only a month now."
+
+"You ought to be lying up close, and never put your nose out this
+coarse weather."
+
+"Time enough.  Leave it now.  I'm all right.  I've had a good
+life--better than you might think for.  I wish for my sake, and knowing
+that I've got my end in sight, you'd do the last thing you can for me
+and countenance this wedding.  Perhaps I've no right to ask; but if you
+knew--if you knew how hard life can be when the flesh gives way and
+there's such a lot left to do and think about.  If you only knew----"
+
+"You say 'the last thing I can do for you.'  Are you sure of that?"
+
+A strange and yearning expression crossed the face of the younger man.
+He stroked his beard nervously and Humphrey, now awake to physical
+accidents, marked that his hands were grown very thin and his skin had
+taken on it a yellowish tinge of colour.
+
+There was silence between them for some moments.  Then Nathan shook his
+head and forced a smile upon his face.
+
+"Nothing else--nothing at all.  But it's no small thing that I ask.  I
+know that.  You've a right to feel little affection for either of
+them--Ned or Cora.  But my case is different.  Cora's mother----"
+
+Again he stopped, but Humphrey did not speak.
+
+"Cora's mother has been a good friend to me in many ways.  She is a
+clever woman and can keep her own counsel.  There's more of Priscilla
+Lintern in Cora than you might think.  You'll never know how terribly
+Cora felt Mark's death; but she did.  Only she hid it close.  As to
+Ned----"
+
+He began to cough and suffered evident pain in the process.  When the
+cough ceased it was some time before he could speak.  Then, to
+Humphrey's discomfort, his brother began to weep.
+
+"There--there," he said, as one talks to a child.  "What I can do, I'll
+do.  God knows this is a harsh shock to me.  I didn't dream of such a
+thing overtaking you.  How old are you?"
+
+"In my sixty-third year."
+
+"Hope despite 'em.  They don't know everything.  Pray to the Almighty
+about it.  You're weak.  You ought to drink, if you can't eat.  I'll
+come to the wedding and I'll give the woman a gift--for your sake and
+her mother's--not for her own."
+
+Nathan, now unnerved, could not reply.  But he took his brother's hand
+and held it.
+
+"God bless you for this," he whispered.  "If you could but understand
+me better and believe that with all my black faults I've meant well, I
+should die easier, Humphrey."
+
+"Don't talk about dying.  You're a bit low.  I haven't forgotten when
+Mark went.  Now 'tis my turn.  Why don't you trust me?"
+
+"You never trusted me, Humphrey."
+
+The other darted a glance and Nathan's eyes fell.
+
+"Never--and you were right not to," he added.
+
+Humphrey rose.
+
+"I'm your brother and your friend.  I can't be different to what I am.
+I don't respect you--never did.  But--well--a silly word most times,
+but I'll use it--I love you well enough.  Why shouldn't I?  You're my
+brother--all I've got left.  I'm cut up about this.  I wish I could
+lighten your load, and I'm willing to do it if 'tis in my power."
+
+"You have.  If you come to that wedding I shall die a happy man."
+
+"That's nought.  Ban't there anything deeper I can do--for you yourself
+and your peace of mind?"
+
+Again Nathan struggled with his desires.  But pride kept him silent.
+He could not tell the truth.
+
+"No," he answered at last.  "Nothing for me myself."
+
+"Or for any other?"
+
+The innkeeper became agitated.
+
+"No, no.  You've done a good day's work.  No more for the present.
+I've not thrown up the sponge yet.  Will you take a glass of the old
+sloe gin before you go?"
+
+Humphrey shook his head.
+
+"Not for me.  When's the wedding?"
+
+"Third of November."
+
+"I shall be there, and your--Cora Lintern will have a letter from me
+next week."
+
+"You make me a happier man than you know, Humphrey."
+
+"Let it rest then.  I'll see you again o' Sunday."
+
+They parted, and while one put on his hat and hastened with tremulous
+excitement to Undershaugh, the other breasted the hill homewards, and
+buttoned his coat to the wind which sent leaves flying in wild
+companies at the spinney edge by Beatland Corner.
+
+The sick man rejoiced upon his way; the hale man went moodily.
+
+"I can do no more," said Humphrey to himself.  "He's a Baskerville,
+despite the grip of death on him.  Perhaps I was a fool to tell him I
+didn't respect him.  He'll think of it again when he's got time for
+thought by night, and 'twill rasp home."
+
+Following upon this incident it seemed for a season that Nathan's
+health mended.  His disease delayed a little upon its progress, and he
+even hoped in secret that his brother might be right and the physicians
+wrong.  He flashed with a spark of his old fire.  He whispered jokes
+that woke noisy laughter.  In secret he ticked off the days that
+remained before Ned and Cora should be married.
+
+It wanted less than a fortnight to the event, and all was in readiness
+for it.  Humphrey Baskerville had sent Cora twenty pounds, and she had
+visited him and thanked him personally for his goodness.  The old man
+had also seen Ned, and although his nephew heard few compliments and
+came from the interview in a very indignant frame of mind, yet it was
+felt to be well that Humphrey had thus openly suffered the past to be
+obliterated.
+
+Then came a midnight when Priscilla Lintern, lying awake and full of
+anxious thoughts, heard upon the silence a sound.  At first she
+believed it to be the four feet of some wandering horse as he struck
+the ground with his hoofs in leisurely fashion, and slowly passed along
+the deserted road; then she perceived that it was the two feet of a man
+moving briskly and carrying him swiftly forward.  The feet stopped, the
+outer wicket gate was opened, and some one came to the door.
+Priscilla's window looked forth from a thatched dormer above, and now
+she threw it up and leant out.  She knew by intuition the name of the
+man below.
+
+"Is that you, Jim?" she asked.
+
+"Yes'm.  Master's took cruel bad and can't fetch his breath.  He
+knocked me up, and I went first for Miss Gollop, who was to home
+luckily.  Then I comed for you."
+
+Mrs. Lintern was already putting on her clothes.
+
+"You'd best to go back," she said.  "I'll be up over at once, after
+I've waked up my son and sent him riding for doctor."
+
+Fifteen minutes later Heathman, still half asleep, cantered on a pony
+through a rainy night for medical help, and his mother hastened up to
+'The White Thorn,' and steeled her heart for what she might find there.
+
+She had long learned to conceal all emotion of spirit, and she knew
+that under no possible stress of grief or terror would truth have power
+to escape the prison of her heart.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+The accident of a heavy cold had suddenly aggravated the morbid
+condition of Nathan Baskerville's throat, and set all doubt of the
+truth at rest.  Often on previous occasions he had anticipated death at
+short notice, and prepared to face it; but now he trusted fate not to
+deal the final blow before his daughter's marriage.  His only concern
+was to be on his feet again swiftly, that none of the plans for the
+wedding should be changed.
+
+The doctor warned him that he was very ill, and took the gravest view
+of his condition; but Nathan, out of a sanguine heart, declared that he
+would make at least a transient recovery.  He obeyed the medical man's
+directions very carefully, however; he kept his bed and put himself
+into the hands of the parish nurse.
+
+In sombre triumph she came to this important case, and brought with her
+certain errors of judgment and idiosyncrasies of character that went
+far to counter-balance real ability begot of experience.  She was a
+good nurse, but an obstinate and foolish woman.  No more conscientious
+creature ruled a sick room or obeyed a doctor's mandate; but she added
+to her prescribed duties certain gratuitous moral ministrations which
+were not required by science or demanded by reason.
+
+Mrs. Lintern saw Mr. Baskerville often, and sometimes shared the night
+watches with Eliza Gollop.  The latter viewed her attentions to Nathan
+and her emotion before his suffering with a suspicious eye.  But she
+reserved comment until after the end.  The case was not likely to be a
+long one in her opinion.  For one week little happened of a definite
+character, and during that time Nathan Baskerville saw his relations
+and several of his more intimate friends.  Then ensued a malignant
+change, and at the dawn of this deterioration, after the doctor had
+left him, Miss Gollop sat alone with her patient and endeavoured to
+elevate his emotions.
+
+"I've flashed a bit of light on a wandering soul at many a deathbed,"
+she declared; "and I hope I shall be spared to do so at many more.
+There's not a few men and women that wouldn't hear me in health, but
+they listened, meek as worms, when the end was in sight, and they
+hadn't strength left to move an eye-lash.  That's the time to drive
+truth home, Mr. Baskerville, and I've done it.  But always cheerful,
+mind.  I'm not the sort to give up hoping."
+
+"I'm sure not," he whispered.  "Wasn't Christ's first and last message
+hope?"
+
+"Don't you talk.  Let me do the talking.  Yes, 'twas hope He brought
+into this hopeless world.  But even hope can be trusted too much.  You
+must put your hope in the next world now, not in this one, I'm afraid."
+
+"Did he say so?"
+
+"Yes--I knew he would.  Death was in his eyes when he went out of your
+chamber.  Still, there's plenty of time.  Things may mend.  He's going
+to send a new physic."
+
+"What's the good of that if I've got to go?"
+
+"You'll know presently, my poor man.  'Tis to ease what be bound to
+creep over you later on."
+
+"Bodily pain's nought.  Haven't I suffered all that man can suffer?"
+
+"No, you haven't--not yet.  Don't talk about that part.  You shan't
+suffer while I'm here--not if I can help it in reason, and under
+doctor's orders.  But I won't stray beyond them; I was never known to
+take anything upon myself, like some of they hospital chits, that call
+themselves nurses, do."
+
+"When is Mrs. Lintern coming?"
+
+Eliza's lips tightened.
+
+"Very soon, without a doubt; though why, I can't ezacally say.  Listen
+to me a little afore she's here.  'Tis my duty to say these things to
+you, and you're not one that ever stood between man or woman and their
+duty."
+
+"I'll not see them married now.  That's cruel hard after----"
+
+"How can you say that?  You may be there in the spirit, if not in the
+flesh.  I suppose you ban't one of they godless ones that say ghosts
+don't walk?  Haven't I beheld 'em with these eyes?  Didn't I go down to
+Mrs. Wonnacott at Shaugh Bridge in the dimpsy of the evening two year
+ago; and didn't I see a wishtness coming along out of they claypits
+there?  'Tis well known I seed it; and if it weren't the spirit of
+Abraham Vosper, as worked there for fifty year and then was run over by
+his own team of hosses and fractured to death in five places, whose
+spirit was it?  So you may be at your nephew's wedding with the best;
+and, for my part, I shall know you be there, and feel none the less
+cheerful for it."
+
+"So much to do--so many to save--and no strength and no time--no time,"
+he said.
+
+The air was dark and hurtling with awful wings for Nathan Baskerville.
+He heard and saw the storm coming.  But others would feel it.  He was
+safe from the actual hurricane, but, by anticipation, dreadfully he
+endured it now.  Death would be no release save from physical disaster.
+His place was with the living, not with the dead.  Cruelly the living
+must need him presently; the dead had no need of him.
+
+Miss Gollop supposed that she read her patient's heart.
+
+"'Tis your own soul you must seek to save, Mr. Baskerville.  None can
+save our souls but ourselves.  And as for time, thanks to the rivers of
+blood Christ shed, there's always time for a dip in 'em.  You're well
+thought on.  But that's nought.  'Tis the bird's-eye view the Almighty
+takes that will decide.  And our conscience tells us what that view's
+like to be.  'Tis a good sign you be shaken about it.  The best sort
+generally are.  I've seen an evil liver go to his doom like a babby
+dropping asleep off its mother's nipple; and I've seen a pious saint,
+such as my own father was, get into a terrible tear at the finish, as
+if he seed all the devils in hell hotting up against his coming."
+
+She ministered to the sick man, then sat down and droned on again.  But
+he was not listening; his strength had nearly gone, his gaiety had
+vanished for ever.  Not a smile was left.  The next world at this
+juncture looked inexpressibly vain and futile.  He cared not a straw
+about it.  He was only concerned with his present environment and the
+significance of passing from it at this juncture.
+
+"Run out--all run out!" he whispered to himself.
+
+Would there be no final parenthesis of strength to deal with the
+manifold matters now tumbling to chaos?  Was the end so near?  He
+brushed aside lesser things and began to think of the one paramount
+obligation.
+
+"Why don't she come?  Why don't she come?" he whispered; but Miss
+Gollop did not hear him.
+
+This was a sort of moment when she felt the call of her faith mighty
+upon her.  She had often inopportunely striven to drag a dying's man's
+mind away from earth to the spectacle of heaven and the immense
+difficulty of winning it.
+
+"How many houses have you got, Mr. Baskerville?" she asked abruptly;
+and in a mechanical fashion he heard and answered her.
+
+"Six--two here and four at Bickleigh; at least, they can't be called
+mine, I'm afraid, they're all----"
+
+"And you'd give the lot for one little corner in a heavenly
+mansion--wouldn't you, Mr. Baskerville?"
+
+"No doubt--no doubt," he said.  "Don't talk for a bit.  I'm broken; I'm
+terrible anxious; I must see----  Give me something to drink, please."
+
+While she obeyed him Mrs. Lintern came in.  The doctor, who had
+perceived her tragic interest in the patient, kept her closely informed
+of his condition, and Priscilla had learned within the hour that Nathan
+was growing worse.
+
+Now she came, and Mr. Baskerville asked Miss Gollop to leave them.
+
+"I can't think why," murmured Eliza.  "I'm not generally told to go out
+except afore relations.  Still, I can take my walk now instead of this
+afternoon.  And if the new physic comes, don't you give him none, Mrs.
+Lintern, please.  'Tis very powerful and dangerous, and only for
+skilled hands to handle."
+
+Neither spoke until the nurse had departed.
+
+"And I shall be gone exactly twenty minutes and no more," she said.
+"I've got my reputation, I believe, if some of us haven't; but with
+chapel people----"
+
+The exact problem respecting chapel people she left unstated, and in
+closing the door behind her made some unnecessary noise.
+
+Then Priscilla folded Nathan in her arms and kissed him.  He held her
+hand and shut his eyes while she talked; but presently he roused
+himself and indicated that the confession to his children must not in
+safety be longer delayed.
+
+"I don't feel particular worse, though I had a bit of a fight for wind
+last night; but I am worse, and I may soon be a lot worse.  They'd
+better all come to-day--this afternoon."
+
+"They shall," she promised.
+
+"If that was all--my God, if that was all, Priscilla!"
+
+"It is all that matters."
+
+"'Tis the least--the very least of it.  Dark--dark wherever I turn.
+Plots miscarried, plans failed, good intentions all gone astray."
+
+She thought that he wandered.
+
+"Don't talk, 'tis bad for you.  If you've got to go, go you must--God
+pity me without you!  But you are all right, such a steadfast man as
+you.  The poor will call you blessed, and your full tale of well-doing
+will never be told."
+
+"Well-meaning, that's all--not well-doing.  A dead man's motives don't
+count, 'tis his deeds we rate him by.  He's gone.  He can't explain
+what he meant.  Pray for me to live a bit longer, Priscilla.  Beg 'em
+for their prayers at the chapel; beg 'em for their prayers at church.
+I'm terrible, terrible frighted to go just now, and that's truth.
+Frighted for those I leave--for those I leave."
+
+She calmed him and sought to banish his fears.  But he entered upon a
+phase of mental excitement, deepening to frenzy.  He was bathed in
+sweat and staring fixedly before him when the nurse returned.
+
+After noon the man had regained his nerve and found himself ready for
+the ordeal.  A dose of the new drug brought ease and peace.  He was
+astonished and sanguine to feel such comfort.  But his voice from the
+strain of the morning had almost become extinguished.
+
+When Priscilla and his children came round him and the family were
+alone, he bade the woman speak.
+
+"Tell them," he said.  "I'm not feared to do it, since you wish them to
+know, but my throat is dumb."
+
+Heathman stood at the bottom of the bed and his mother sat beside it.
+Cora and Phyllis were in chairs by the fire.  They looked and saw Mrs.
+Lintern clasp her hands over Nathan Baskerville's.  The act inspired
+her, and she met the astonished glances of her children.
+
+"For all these years," she said, "you've been kept without hearing the
+truth, you three.  You only knew I was a widow, and that Mr.
+Baskerville was a widower, and that we were friends always, and that he
+never married again because his dead wife didn't want him to.  But
+there's more to know.  After Mrs. Baskerville died, Nathan here found
+me an orphan girl, working for my living in a china and glass shop at
+Bath.  I hadn't a relation or friend in the world, and he got to love
+me, and he wanted to marry me.  But I wouldn't have it, because, in
+honour to his wife's relations, if he'd married me he'd have had to
+give up five thousand pound.  And they would have taken very good care
+he did so.  The law was his side, but truth was against it, since his
+wife gave him the money only if he didn't wed.  She couldn't enforce
+such a thing, but he acted as if she could.  I went to live with him,
+and you three children were born.  Then, a bit after, he came back
+here, and of course I came with him.  He's your father, but there's no
+call for any else to know it but us.  I don't care, and never shall
+care if everybody knows it.  A better man won't breathe God's air in
+this world than your father, and no woman have been blessed with a
+kinder husband in the eye of the Almighty.  But there's you three to
+think of, and 'twould be against you if this was known now.  He didn't
+even want to tell you; but I was determined that you should know it
+afore either of us died.  And now it's pleased God to shorten your dear
+father's days; and you've got to hear that he is your father."
+
+There was a silence.
+
+"I ask them to forgive me," whispered Nathan Baskerville.  "I ask my
+son and my daughters to forgive me for what I've done."
+
+"No need for that," answered Priscilla.  "Lie down and be easy, and
+don't get excited."
+
+He had sat up and was holding his beard, and stroking it nervously.
+
+Mrs. Lintern shook his pillow and took his hand again.  Then she looked
+at her son, who stood with his mouth open, staring at the sick man.
+His expression indicated no dismay, but immense astonishment.
+
+"Well, I'm damned!" he said.  "This beats cock-fighting!  You my
+father!  And now you'm going to drop out--just when I might have been
+some use to you.  There! what a 'mazing thing, to be sure."
+
+"Call him by his right name then--for my sake, Heathman," urged his
+mother.
+
+"Why--good God!--I will for his own," answered the man.  "I don't care
+a curse about such things as laws and all the rest of it.  He's been a
+rare good sort all his life; and no man could have a better father,
+whichever side the blanket he was got.  I'll call him father, and
+welcome, and I wish to Christ he wasn't going to die."
+
+Heathman came and took Nathan's hand, and his mother broke down at his
+words, buried her face in the counterpane and wept.
+
+"Tell them to come over," whispered Mr. Baskerville to his son.  "And
+thank you, and God bless you, son.  You've done more than you know to
+lighten a cruel load."
+
+"Come here, you two, and kiss your father," said Heathman.
+
+The girls came, and first Phyllis kissed Nathan nervously, and then the
+touch that he hungered for rested a moment on his cheek.  With Cora's
+kiss the tension subsided; he sank back, and Priscilla drew the sheet
+up to his beard, and again lifted the pillow.
+
+"Now I shall go in some sort of peace, though an erring and a sinful
+man," he murmured.  "If you can forgive me, so will my Saviour.  And
+let this secret be a secret for ever.  Remember that, all of you.  'Tis
+beyond human power to make you legitimate Baskervilles; but
+Baskervilles you are, and, please God, will lead a better and wiser
+life than I have led.  No need to tell anybody the truth.  Forgive your
+father, and forget him so soon as ever you can; but worship your mother
+always--to your dying day worship her; protect her and shield her, and
+stand between her and the rough wind, and be proud of having such a
+blessed brave woman for a mother."
+
+"You needn't tell me that," said Heathman.
+
+The other stopped, but held up his hand for silence.  After a little
+rest he proceeded.
+
+"The time's coming when she will need all the love and wit you've got
+among you.  'Tis no good talking much about that, and I haven't the
+human courage left to meet your hard faces, or tears, or frowns.  All I
+say is, forgive me, and love your mother through thick and thin.  All
+the blame is mine--none of it belongs to her."
+
+He held his hand out to Cora.  She was sitting on the edge of the bed
+looking out of the window.
+
+"You'll remember, my Cora," he said.  "And--and let me hear you call me
+'father' just once--if you can bring yourself to do it."
+
+"The money, dear father?" she asked.
+
+He smiled, and it was the last time that he ever did so.
+
+"Like my sensible Cora," he answered.  But he did not continue the
+subject.
+
+"You'd best all to go now," declared Priscilla.  She rose and looked
+straight into the eyes of her children each in turn.  The girls
+flinched; the son went to her and kissed her.
+
+"Don't you think this will make any difference to me," said Heathman.
+"You're a damned sight too good a mother for me, whether or no--or for
+them women either; and this man here--our father, I should say--needn't
+worrit about you, for I'll always put you afore anything else in the
+world."
+
+"And so will I, mother," said Phyllis.
+
+"Of course, we all will," added Cora; "and the great thing must be for
+us all to keep as dumb as newts about it.  'Twould never do for it to
+come out--for mother's sake more than ours, even.  I don't say it for
+our sakes, but for mother's sake, and for father's good name, too."
+
+"Such wisdom--such wisdom!" said Nathan.  "You've all treated me better
+than I deserved--far better.  And God will reward you for such high
+forgiveness to a wicked wretch.  I'll see you all again once before I
+die.  Promise that.  Promise you'll come again, Cora."
+
+"I will come again," she said; "and please, father, make mother promise
+on her oath to be quiet and sensible and not run no risks.  If it got
+out now--you never know.  We're above such small things, but many
+people would cold shoulder us if they heard of it.  You know what
+people are."
+
+Her mother looked at her without love.  The girl was excited; she began
+to appreciate the significance of what she had heard; her eyes were wet
+and her voice shook.
+
+"I'll be 'quiet and sensible,' Cora Lintern," said the mother.  "I've
+been 'quiet and sensible' for a good many years, I believe, and I
+shan't begin to be noisy and foolish now.  You're quite safe.  Better
+you all go away now and leave us for the present."
+
+They departed silently, and, once below, the girls crept off together,
+like guilty things, to their home, while Lintern dallied in the bar
+below and drank.  He was perfectly indifferent to the serious side of
+his discovery, and, save for his mother's sake, would have liked to
+tell the men in the bar all about it.  He regarded it rather as a
+matter of congratulation than not.  No spark of mercenary feeling
+touched his emotion.  That he was a rich man's son had not yet occurred
+to him; but that he was a good man's son and a popular man's son
+pleased him.
+
+Mrs. Lintern suffered no detraction in his eyes.  He felt wonder when
+he considered her power of hiding this secret for so many years, and he
+experienced honest sorrow for her that the long clandestine union was
+now to end.  The day's event, indeed, merely added fuel to the flame of
+his affection for her.
+
+But it was otherwise with the sisters.  Phyllis usually took on the
+colour of Cora's thought, and now the elder, with no little
+perspicacity, examined the situation from every point of view.
+
+"The only really bright side it's got is that there'll be plenty of
+money, I suppose.  I'd give a sovereign, Phyllis, to see the will.
+Father--how funny it sounds to say it--poor father was always terrible
+fond of me, and I've often wondered why for.  Now, of course, 'tis easy
+to explain."
+
+"What about the wedding?" asked Phyllis.  "'Twill have to be cruel
+quiet now, I suppose."
+
+"Certainly not," answered her sister.  "'Twill have to be put off,
+that's all.  I won't have a scrubbly little wedding smothered up in
+half mourning, or some such thing; but, come to think of it, we shan't
+figure among the mourners in any case--though we shall be among them
+really.  'Twill be terrible difficult to help giving ourselves away
+over this.  I think the best thing would be for mother to take the
+money and clear out, and go and live somewhere else--the further off
+the better.  For that matter, when the will's read, everybody will
+guess how it is."
+
+"Heathman might go on with the public-house."
+
+"Yes, he might.  But I hope he'll do no such thing," answered her
+sister.  "He's always the thorn in my side, and always will be.  Don't
+know the meaning of the word 'decency.'  However, he's not like to
+trouble us much when we're married.  I shan't be sorry to change my
+name now, Phyllis.  And the sooner you cease to be called Lintern, too,
+the better."
+
+"About mother?"
+
+"I shouldn't presume to say a word about mother, one way or the other,"
+answered Cora.  "I'm not a fool, and I'm not going to trouble myself
+about the things that other people do; but all the same, I shall be
+glad to get out of it and start with a clean slate among a different
+class of people."
+
+"What amazing cleverness to hide it all their lives like that,"
+speculated Phyllis.  "I'm sure us never would have been so clever as to
+do it."
+
+"It became a habit, no doubt.  'Twas salt to their lives, I reckon, and
+made 'em all the fonder of each other," declared Cora.  "Everyday
+married life must have looked terrible tame to them--doing what they
+did.  Their time was one long love-making in secret."
+
+"I'm awful sorry for mother now, though," continued Phyllis; "because
+when he dies she can't put on weeds and go and hear the funeral sermon,
+and do all the things a proper widow does do."
+
+"No," admitted her sister; "that she certainly can't.  She'll have to
+hide the truth pretty close from this day forward, that's very clear.
+She owes that to me--and to you; and I shall see she pays her debt."
+
+"She will, of course," replied the other.  "She's a terrible brave
+woman, and always has been.  She'll hide it up close enough--so close
+as we shall, for that matter.  Heathman's the only one who's like to
+let it out.  You know what a careless creature he is."
+
+Cora frowned.
+
+"I do," she said.  "And I know there's no love lost between him and me.
+A coarse man, he is, and don't care what gutter he chooses his friends
+out of.  Take one thing with another, it might be so well to marry Ned
+at the appointed time, and get it hard and fast."
+
+So they talked, and misprized Heathman from the frosty standpoint of
+their own hearts.  Rather than bring one shadow on his mother's fame,
+the brother of these girls would have bitten out his tongue and
+swallowed it.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+Nathan Baskerville's bedroom faced the south.  A text was nailed upon
+the wall over his head, and an old photograph of his father stood upon
+the mantelpiece.  To right and left of this memorial appeared trinkets
+made of shells.  A pair of old carriage lamps, precious from
+association, decorated either end of the mantelshelf.  An old print of
+Niagara Falls, that his mother had valued, was nailed above it.
+
+A white curtain covered the window, but there was no blind, for this
+man always welcomed daylight.  On the window-ledge there languished a
+cactus in a pot.  It was a gift under the will of an old dead woman who
+had tended it and cherished it for twenty years.  One easy chair stood
+beside the bed, and on a table at hand were food and medicine.
+
+Many came to see the dying man, and Humphrey Baskerville visited him
+twice or thrice in every week.
+
+More than once Nathan had desired to speak of private matters to his
+brother, but now he lacked the courage, and soon all inclination to
+discuss mundane affairs departed from him.
+
+There followed a feverish week, in which Nathan only desired to listen
+to religious conversation.  Recorded promises of hope for the sinner
+were his penultimate interest on earth.  He made use of a strange
+expression very often, and desired again and again to hear the Bible
+narrative that embraced it.
+
+"'This day shalt thou be with me in Paradise,'" he said to Humphrey and
+to many others.  "I cling to that.  It was spoken to a thief and a
+failure."
+
+All strove to comfort him, but a great mental incubus haunted his
+declining hours.  His old sanguine character seemed entirely to have
+perished; and its place was taken by spirits of darkness and of terror.
+
+"'The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom,'" he said to Eliza
+Gollop, when she was alone with him.  "If I'd marked that better, I
+might now have got beyond that stage and learned to love Him.  But I'm
+in fear--my life hasn't took me further than that--all's fearful still."
+
+"No need in your case, I hope, so far as mortal man can say," she
+answered.  "'Tis natural to be uneasy when the journey's end falls in
+sight; and we all ought to be.  But then comes Christ and casts out
+fear.  You've a right, so far as man can say, to trust Him and fear
+nought."
+
+"But man doesn't know.  Yet He forgave the dying thief."
+
+"He did so, though us have no right to say whether 'twas a bit of rare
+kindness in Him, or whether he made a practice of it.  But for my part
+I steadfastly believe that He do forgive everything but the sin against
+the Holy Ghost.  Of course, that's beyond His power, and would never
+do."
+
+Mrs. Lintern spent much time at 'The White Thorn,' and since her visits
+relieved Eliza of work, she acquiesced in them, while reserving the
+right of private judgment.  Priscilla and her children all saw the
+sufferer together more than once; and then came a day when Heathman,
+Cora, and Phyllis took their leave of him.
+
+The young man then secreted his emotion and roamed for an hour alone
+upon the Moor; the girls felt it but little.
+
+Cora declared afterwards to Phyllis that since this great confession
+had been made, her mind dimly remembered her tender youth and a man in
+it.  This man she had regarded as her father.
+
+All the children were deceived at an early age.  They had, indeed, been
+led implicitly to suppose that their father died soon after the birth
+of Phyllis.
+
+One last conversation with his brother, Humphrey long remembered.  It
+was the final occasion on which Nathan seemed acutely conscious, and
+his uneasiness of mind clearly appeared.
+
+They were alone, and the elder perceived that Nathan desired and yet
+feared to make some statement of a personal character.  That he might
+ease the other's mind and open the way to any special conversation he
+desired, Mr. Baskerville uttered certain general speeches concerning
+their past, their parents, and the different characteristics of
+temperament that had belonged to Vivian and themselves.
+
+"We were all as opposite as men can be, and looked at life opposite,
+and set ourselves to win opposite good from it.  Who shall say which
+comes out best?  On the whole, perhaps Vivian did.  He died without a
+doubt.  There are some men bound to be pretty happy through native
+stupidity and the lack of power to feel; and there are some men--mighty
+few--rise as high as happiness, and glimpse content by the riches of
+their native wisdom.  I've found the real fools and the real wise men
+both seem to be happy.  A small brain keeps a man cheerful as a bird,
+and a big one leads to what's higher than cheerfulness; but 'tis the
+middle bulk of us be so often miserable.  We'm too witty to feed on the
+fool's pap of ignorance; and not witty enough to know the top of
+wisdom.  I speak for myself in that; but you've been a happy, hopeful
+man all your days; so belike, after all, you're wiser than I granted
+you to be."
+
+"Me wise!  My God!  Don't you say that.  My happiness was a fool's
+happiness; my laughter a fool's laughter all the time.  At least--not
+all the time; but at first.  We do the mad things at the mad age, and
+after, when the bill comes in--to find us grown up and in our right
+minds--we curse Nature for not giving us the brains first and the
+powers afterwards.  Man's days be a cruel knife in the hand of a child.
+Too often the heedless wretch cuts hisself afore he's learned how to
+handle it, and carries the scar for ever."
+
+"True for you.  Nature's a terrible poor master, as I've always said,
+and always shall.  We know it; but who stands up between a young man
+and his youth to protect him therefrom?  We old blids see 'em thinking
+the same vain things, and doing the same vain things, and burning their
+fingers and scorching their hearts at the same vain fires; and we look
+on and grin, like the idiots we are, and make no effort to help 'em.
+Not you, though--not you.  You was always the young man's friend.  You
+never was a young man yourself exactly.  An old head on young shoulders
+you always carried; and so did I."
+
+"Don't think it--not of me.  'Tisn't so.  No man was madder than me;
+none was crueller; none committed worse sins for others' backs to bear.
+The best that any man will be able to say of me a month after I'm in my
+grave is that I meant well.  And maybe not many will even say that.
+Death's no evil to me, Humphrey, but dying now is a very cruel evil, I
+assure you.  The cloud lies behind, not in front."
+
+"So it does with every man struck down in the midst of his work.  Shall
+you write your own verse according to our old custom?"
+
+The other shook his head.
+
+"No.  I'll stick up no pious thought for men to spit upon when they
+pass my grave.  I'd rather that no stone marked it.  'Twill be
+remembered--in one heart--and that's more than ever I'll deserve."
+
+"Don't be downcast.  Leave afterwards to me.  I think better of you for
+hearing you talk like this.  You tried to brace me against the death of
+my son; now I'll brace you against your own death.  You don't fear the
+thing, and that's to the good.  But, like all busy men, it finds you
+with a lot of threads tangled, I suppose.  That's the fate of every one
+who tries to do other people's work besides his own, and takes off the
+shoulders of others what properly belongs there.  They'll have to look
+to their own affairs all round when you go."
+
+Nathan's answer was a groan, and with the return of the nurse, Humphrey
+went away.
+
+From that hour the final phases of the illness began; suffering dimmed
+the patient's mind, and turned his thoughts away from everything but
+his own physical struggle between the intervals of sleep.  His torments
+increased; his consciousness, flinging over all else, was reduced to
+its last earthly interest.  He kept his eyes and his attention
+ceaselessly fixed upon one thing so long as his mind continued under
+his control.
+
+Not grief at the past; not concern at the future; not the face of
+Priscilla, and not the touch of her hand absorbed his intelligence now;
+but the sight of a small bottle that held the anodyne to his misery.
+That he steadfastly regarded, and pointed impatiently to the clock upon
+the mantelpiece when the blessed hour of administration struck.
+
+The medicine was guarded jealously by Eliza Gollop, and once, when
+frenzied at the man's sufferings, Priscilla had sought to administer a
+dose, the other woman came between and sharply rebuked her.
+
+"It's death!" she whispered under her voice.  "D'you want to murder
+him?  He's taking just what the doctor allows--the utmost limit."
+
+After three days of unutterable grief, Nathan's brother became aware of
+the situation, and perceived that the end tarried.  He debated on this
+long-drawn horror for a night, and next day spoke to the doctor.
+
+He put the case without evasion or obscurity, and the professional man
+heard him in patience and explained at once his deep sympathy and his
+utter powerlessness to do more.
+
+"He's dying--you grant that?"
+
+"Certainly, he's dying--the quicker the better now, poor fellow.  The
+glands are involved, and the end must come tolerably soon."
+
+"How long?"
+
+"Impossible to say.  A few days probably.  He keeps his strength
+wonderfully well."
+
+"But it would be better if he didn't?  Wouldn't it be better if he died
+to-night?"
+
+"Much--for all our sakes," admitted the physician.
+
+"Can't you help him out of it, then?"
+
+"Impossible."
+
+"Why?  You'd do as much for a horse or dog."
+
+"My business is to prolong life, not hasten death.  The profession
+recognises no interference of that sort."
+
+"Who knows anything about it?  A dying man dies, and there's an end."
+
+"I cannot listen to you, Mr. Baskerville.  We must think of the
+greatest good and the greatest safety to the greatest number.  The law
+is very definite in this matter, and I have my profession to consider.
+You look at an individual case; the law looks at the larger question of
+what is convenient for a State.  Your brother is having medicinal doses
+of morphia as often as it is possible to give them to him without
+danger to life."
+
+"In fact, Nature must kill him her own hard way."
+
+"Much is being done to lessen his pain."
+
+"But a double dose of your physic would----"
+
+"End his life."
+
+"How?"
+
+"He would become unconscious and in three, or possibly four, hours he
+would die."
+
+"You'd call that murder?"
+
+"That is the only name for it as the law stands."
+
+"You won't do that?"
+
+"No, Mr. Baskerville.  I wish I could help him.  But, in a word, I have
+no power to do so."
+
+"Is it because you think 'twould be a wrong thing, or because you know
+'tis unlawful?" asked the elder.  "You might say 'twas impertinent to
+ask it, as it touches religion; but I'm ignorant and old, and want to
+know how it looks to the conscience of a learned man like you--you,
+that have been educated in all manner of deep subjects and the secrets
+of life."
+
+The doctor reflected.  He was experienced and efficient; but like many
+other professional men, he had refused his reason any entrance into the
+arcanum of his religious opinions.  These were of the customary
+nebulous character, based on tradition, on convention, on the necessity
+for pleasing all in a general practice, on the murmur of a mother's
+voice in his childhood.
+
+"I am a Christian," he said.  "And I think it wrong to lessen by one
+moment the appointed life of any man."
+
+"But not wrong to lengthen it?"
+
+"That we cannot do."
+
+"Then surely you cannot shorten it, either?  Tell me this, sir: why
+would you poison a dog that's dying, so that its misery may be ended?"
+
+"I will not argue about it.  The cases are not parallel.  Common
+humanity would, of course, put a period to the agony of any unconscious
+beast."
+
+"But wouldn't free an immortal soul from its perishing dirt?"
+
+"No.  I am diminishing his pain enormously.  I can do no more.
+Remember, Mr. Baskerville, that our Lord and Master healed the sick and
+restored the dead to life.  He never shortened any man's days; He
+prolonged them."
+
+"I'm answered," replied the elder.  "Your conscience is--where it
+should be: on the side of the law.  I'm answered; but I'm not
+convinced."
+
+They parted, and Humphrey found the other's argument not strong enough
+to satisfy him.  He wrestled with the problem for some time and ere
+long his impression grew into a conviction, his conviction ripened to a
+resolve.
+
+In the afternoon of that day he returned to 'The White Thorn' and found
+Mrs. Lintern with his brother.
+
+Eliza had gone out for a while.  Nathan appeared to be half
+unconscious, but his mind clearly pursued some private train of thought.
+
+Priscilla rose from her chair beside the bed and shook hands with
+Humphrey.  Nathan spoke, but not to them.
+
+"A mighty man of valour.  His burning words melted the wax in a man's
+ears, I warn you....  Melted the wax in a man's ears....  Melted the
+wax....  Oh, Christ, help me!  Isn't it time for the medicine yet?"
+
+He stared at the bottle.  It was placed on a bracket in his sight.
+
+"What did the doctor say to-day?" asked Humphrey.
+
+"Said it was wonderful--the strength.  There's nothing to stop him
+living three or four days yet."
+
+"D'you want him to?"
+
+"My God, no!  I'd--I'd do all a woman could do to end it."
+
+Humphrey regarded her searchingly.
+
+"Will he come to his consciousness again?"
+
+"I asked the doctor the same question.  He said he might, but it was
+doubtful."
+
+The sick man groaned.  Agony had long stamped its impress on his face.
+
+"When is he to have the medicine?"
+
+"When Miss Gollop comes back," she said.  "There's an hour yet.  The
+Lord knows what an hour is to me, watching.  What must it be to him?"
+
+"Why, it may be a lifetime to him--a whole lifetime of torment yet
+before he's gone," admitted Humphrey.
+
+"I pray to God day and night to take him.  If I could only bear it for
+him!"
+
+Mr. Baskerville knelt beside his brother, spoke loudly, squeezed the
+sufferer's hand and tried to rouse him.
+
+"My physic, Eliza, for your humanity, Eliza--the clock's struck--I
+heard it--I swear--oh, my merciful Maker, why can't I have it?"
+
+He writhed in slow suffocation.
+
+"I'll give him his medicine," said Humphrey.  "This shan't go on."
+
+"She'll make trouble if you do."
+
+"I hope not, and it's no great matter if she does."
+
+He crossed the room, examined the bottle, took it to the light and
+poured out rather more than a double dose.  He crossed the room with
+it, heaved a long breath, steadied himself and then put his arm round
+his brother and lifted him.
+
+"Here you are, Nat.  You'll sleep awhile after this.  'Twill soon ease
+you."
+
+Nathan Baskerville seized the glass like one perishing of thirst, and
+drank eagerly.
+
+He continued to talk a little afterwards, but was swiftly easier.
+Presently the drug silenced him and he lay still.
+
+Humphrey looked at his watch.
+
+"I can tell you," he said.  "Because you'll understand.  His troubles
+are ended for ever now.  He won't have another pang.  I've taken it
+upon myself.  You're a wise and patient woman.  You've got other
+secrets.  Better keep this with the rest."
+
+He was excited.  His forehead grew wet and he mopped it with the sheet
+of the bed.
+
+Priscilla did not reply; but she went on her knees beside Nathan and
+listened.
+
+"At six o'clock, or maybe a bit earlier, he'll stop.  Till then he'll
+sleep in peace.  When does Eliza Gollop come back?"
+
+"After four."
+
+"I'll wait then."
+
+"You're a brave man.  'Tisn't many would do so much as that, even for a
+brother."
+
+"Do as you would be done by covers it.  'Tis a disgrace to the living
+that dying men should suffer worse terror and pain than dying beasts.
+Terror they must, perhaps, since they can think; but pain--no need for
+that."
+
+"I'll bless you for this to my own last day," she said.  She rose then
+and fetched a chair.  She held Nathan's hand.  He was insensible and
+breathing faintly but easily.
+
+Suddenly Mrs. Lintern got up and hastened across the room to the
+medicine bottle.
+
+"We must think of that," she said.
+
+"Leave it.  He's had enough."
+
+"He's had too much," she answered.  "There's the danger.  When that
+woman comes back she'll know to half a drop what's gone.  She guessed
+the wish in me to do this very thing two days ago.  She read it in my
+eyes, I believe.  And God knows the will was in my heart; but I hadn't
+the courage."
+
+"Let her find out."
+
+"No--not her.  Some--perhaps many--wouldn't matter; but not her."
+
+Priscilla took the bottle, lifted it and let it fall upon the floor.
+It broke, and the medicine was spilled.
+
+"There," she said.  "That will answer the purpose.  You had given him
+his dose and, putting the bottle back, it broke.  I'll send Heathman
+off quick to Yelverton for another bottle, so it shall be here before
+the next dose is due.  Then you won't be suspected."
+
+He listened, and perceived how easily came the devious thought to her
+swift mind.  It did not astonish him that she was skilled in the art to
+deceive.
+
+"I've taken the chances--all of them," he said.  "I've thought long
+about this.  I needn't have told you to keep the secret, for it can't
+be kept.  And I don't want it to be kept really.  You can't hide it
+from the nurse.  She'll know by the peace of poor Nat here how it is."
+
+Priscilla looked again.  Profound calm brooded over the busy man of
+Shaugh Prior.  He was sinking out of life without one tremor.
+
+"There's an awful side to it," the woman murmured.
+
+"There was," he said.  "The awfulness was to see Nature strangling him
+by inches.  There's nought awful now, but the awfulness of all death.
+'Tis meant to be an awful thing to the living--not to the dying."
+
+For half an hour they sat silent.  Then Priscilla lifted the clothes
+and put her hand to Nathan's feet.
+
+"He's cold," she said.
+
+"Cold or heat are all one to him now."
+
+A little later Eliza Gollop returned.  She came at the exact hour for
+administration of the medicine, and she sought the bottle before she
+took off her bonnet and cloak.
+
+"Where--why----?" she cried out.
+
+"I gave him his physic a bit ago," said Mr. Baskerville.  "The bottle
+is broke."
+
+The nurse hurried to her patient and examined him closely.  She
+perceived the change.
+
+"He's dying!" she said.
+
+"So he was when you went away."
+
+She broke off and panted into anger.
+
+"You've--you've--this is murder--I won't stop in the house.  I--oh, you
+wicked woman!"
+
+She turned upon Mrs. Lintern and poured out a torrent of invective.
+
+Then Humphrey took her by the shoulders and put her out of the room.
+
+"You can go," he said.  "You'll not be wanted any more."
+
+She hastened from the inn and then went off to the vicarage as fast as
+her legs would carry her.
+
+Another half-hour passed and none came to them.  From time to time
+Priscilla put her ear to Nathan's face.
+
+"I don't think he's breathing any more," she said.
+
+Then came a noise and a grumbling of men's voices below.  A violent
+strife of words clashed in the bar.  The day had waned and it was
+growing dark.
+
+"They'll be against you, I'm fearing," said Priscilla.
+
+"'Tis of no account.  They always are."
+
+Presently Dennis Masterman entered the room.
+
+"I hear poor Baskerville is going and they can't find his minister.
+Can I be of any comfort to him?"
+
+He made no allusion to the things that he had heard, and Humphrey did
+not immediately answer him.  He was leaning over his brother.  Then he
+took out his watch, opened it, and put the polished inner case to
+Nathan's lips.
+
+"Light a candle and bring it here," he said to Priscilla.
+
+She obeyed, and he examined the polished metal.
+
+"No stain--he's dead, I suppose."
+
+Then Mr. Baskerville turned to the clergyman.
+
+"If you can pray, I'll be glad for you to do it."
+
+Dennis immediately knelt down; the old man also went slowly on his
+knees and the weeping woman did the same.
+
+"O Almighty God, Who has been pleased to take our brother from his
+sufferings and liberate an immortal soul from mortal clay, be Thou
+beside him now, that he may pass over the dark river with his hand in
+his Saviour's, and enter as a good and faithful servant into the joy of
+his Lord.  And support the sorrows of those who--who cared for him on
+earth, and help them and all men to profit by the lesson of his charity
+and lovingkindness and ready ear for the trouble of his
+fellow-creatures.  Let us walk in the way that he walked, and pass in
+peace at the end as he has passed.  And this we beg for the sake of our
+Mediator and Comforter, our Blessed Lord and Redeemer, Thy Son, Jesus
+Christ."
+
+"Amen," said Mr. Baskerville, "and thank you."
+
+He rose, cast one glance at the grief-stricken woman by the bed, then
+looked upon his brother and then prepared to depart.
+
+But he returned for a moment.
+
+"Will you do the rest?" he asked of Mrs. Lintern.  "Or shall I tell 'em
+to send?"
+
+"No, I daren't.  Tell him to send.  I must go home," she answered.
+
+A loud noise persisted in the bar, but he did not enter it.  He took
+his hat and an old umbrella from the corner of the sick-room, then
+descended and went out into the night.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+The doctor who attended Nathan Baskerville in his last illness heard
+from Eliza Gollop what had been done, and he took a serious view of it.
+From the standpoint of his opinions Humphrey Baskerville had struck a
+blow at society and the established order.
+
+The physician was sober-minded and earnest.  He communicated with the
+coroner of the district, stated the case impartially and left the
+official to act as seemed proper to him.  But the coroner was also a
+medical man, and he reduced the problem to its simplest possible
+dimensions.
+
+Death had been hastened by an uncertain measure of time for one who was
+enduring extreme agony.  He judged the case on its own merits, after a
+rare judicial faculty peculiar to himself.  He made no effort to
+consider its general bearing and tendency; he did not enlarge his
+survey to the principles involved.  His sympathy was entirely on the
+side of Humphrey Baskerville; he applauded the old man in his heart and
+declared no inquest necessary.  None was therefore held.
+
+Those interested in Nathan's end took opposite views, and as for
+Humphrey himself, he was hidden for a time from the people and did not
+appear again in public until his brother's funeral.  He failed,
+therefore, to learn the public opinion.
+
+Jack Head and those who thought as he did, upheld the action; but not a
+few shared the faith of Thomas Gollop, openly expressed at the bar of
+'The White Thorn' while still the dead master lay above.
+
+For two days Nathan kept a sort of humble state, and the folk from far
+and near enjoyed the spectacle of his corpse.  Many tramped ten miles
+to see him.
+
+The humblest people appeared; the most unexpected persons acknowledged
+debts of unrecorded kindness.  He lay in his coffin with a face placid
+and small behind the bush of his silver beard.  Women wept at the sight
+and took a morbid joy in touching his folded hands.
+
+Then he was hidden for ever and carried with difficulty down the narrow
+and winding stair of the inn.
+
+Thomas Gollop dug the grave and Joe Voysey helped him.  No younger men
+assisted them.  They felt a sort of sentiment in the matter.
+
+"'Tis the last pit I shall open, Joe," said Mr. Gollop; "and for my
+part, if I had my way, I shouldn't make it very deep.  In these cases
+the law, though slow, is sure, and it may come about that he'll have to
+be digged up again inside a month to prove murder against that dark,
+awful man to Hawk House."
+
+"'Tis the point of view.  I don't look at it quite the same.  For my
+part, in my business, I see a lot of death--not men but plants.  And
+when a bush or what not be going home, I don't stand in the way.  'No
+good tinkering,' I often says to Miss Masterman, for the silly woman
+seems to think a gardener can stand between a plant and death.  'The
+herb be going home,' I says, 'and us can't stay the appointed time.'
+'But I don't want it to go home--it mustn't go home,' she'll answer
+me--like a silly child talking.  However, when her back be turned, I do
+my duty.  The bonfire's the place.  Jack Head looked over the
+kitchen-garden wall a bit agone and seed me firing up; and he said,
+'Ah, Joe, your bonfire's like charity: it covers a multitude of sins!'
+A biting tongue that man hath!"
+
+Joe chuckled at the recollection, but Gollop was not amused.
+
+"A plant and a man are very different," he answered.  "Scripture tells
+us that the fire is the place for the withered branch, but where
+there's a soul working out its salvation in fear and trembling, who be
+we worms to stand up and say 'go'?"
+
+"It might be the Lord put it in Mr. Baskerville's heart," argued Voysey.
+
+"The Lord ban't in the habit of putting murder in people's hearts, I
+believe."
+
+"You didn't ought to use the word.  He might have you up if he come to
+hear it."
+
+"I wish he would; I only wish he would," declared Thomas.  "Fearless
+you'd find me, with Eliza's evidence behind me, I can promise you.  But
+not him: he knows too well for that."
+
+They stood and rested where Nathan's grave began to yawn beside that of
+his brother.  White marble shone out above Vivian, and not only his
+farewell verse, but also a palestric trophy representing the old
+wrestler's championship belt, was carved there.
+
+"'Twill make history in more ways than one--this death will," foretold
+Thomas.
+
+"What do you think?  Parson's going to help with the funeral!"
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"'Why not?'  You ask that!  Nat was a Dissenter and his dissenting
+minister be going to bury him; but Masterman says, seeing how highly
+thought upon he was by all parties, that it becomes all parties to be
+at his grave.  And he's going to be there; and if the bishop comed to
+learn of it, there'd be a flare-up that might shake England in my
+opinion."
+
+"If his reverence says he'll be there, there he'll be."
+
+"I don't doubt that.  My belief is that all's well knowed at
+headquarters, and they're giving the man rope enough to hang hisself
+with.  This may be the last straw."
+
+Comforted by the reflection, Thomas resumed his labours.
+
+"He'll lie cheek by jowl with his brother," he said.  "Go easy in that
+corner, Joe; us'll be getting to the shoulder of Vivian's bricks afore
+long."
+
+
+The circumstance of Nathan's passing had been received with very real
+grief by most of his relations.  Even distant kindred mourned and not a
+few of the race, who were strangers to the Baskervilles of Shaugh
+Prior, appeared at the funeral.  Mrs. Baskerville of Cadworthy felt
+helpless and faced almost with a second widowhood, for all her
+financial affairs had rested in Nathan's willing hand since her husband
+died.  Her daughters also mourned in very genuine fashion.  Their uncle
+had been kind, helpful, and generous to them.  Only Mr. Bassett did not
+greatly suffer, for now he knew that his wife must inherit her own and
+hoped, indeed, for some addition under the will of the departed
+innkeeper.
+
+As for Rupert Baskerville, he endured very real grief; but Ned was too
+concerned with the bearing of this event on his own affairs to feel it
+deeply.  He would now be free to administer his capital as he pleased.
+Only his mother stood between.  One black cloud, however, thrust itself
+upon his immediate future.  His wedding was postponed.  Cora insisted
+upon it, and her mother supported her.  Their motives were widely
+different, but they arrived at the same conclusion.
+
+Priscilla hid her grief from all eyes but her son's; while he, less
+skilled, surprised the folk by his evident sorrow.  They failed to
+understand it, and acute people laughed, judged it to be simulation,
+and despised the man for his display.  Cora and Phyllis neither
+pretended nor felt grief.  The elder had talked her sister round, and
+they arrived at a perfectly rational conclusion.  It was averse from
+their father.  It led them to regard him as a selfish and a cruel man.
+They considered also that he had deceived himself, and wickedly wronged
+the unborn that he might perform a far-fetched obligation to the dead.
+
+Cora put the case very clearly.
+
+"Mother won't see it, and 'tis vain to try to make her; and Heathman
+won't see it, because he's a fool, and only just misses being weak in
+his head.  But I see it clear enough, and the ugly truth of the man is
+that for five thousand pounds he was content to let his children come
+into the world bastards.  That's what he did, and I'm not going to
+pretend I care for him or shall ever respect his memory."
+
+"It'll never come out, however," said Phyllis.
+
+"I'm sure I hope it won't--not out of my mouth, anyway.  But still it
+is so, and all the money he may have left behind him won't make me feel
+different."
+
+"We shall be rich, I hope, anyway," speculated Phyllis.
+
+"I suppose we shall; and that's the only bright thing about it."
+
+"'Twill be funny not walking first behind the coffin, and not sitting
+in the mourners' pew after for the Sunday sermon; and we knowing all
+the time that's where we ought to be," said the younger; but Cora
+exploded the theory.
+
+"Not at all.  We've no right there--not the right of the most distant
+cousin twenty times removed.  Mother was his mistress, and she daren't
+use the word 'husband' even to us, though I've seen her mouth itching
+to do it.  'Tis always 'your dear father.'  She can't put on a widow's
+streamers, though it's in her heart to.  She'll have to balance her
+black pretty cautious, I can tell you, if she don't want the people to
+be staring."
+
+"Surely it must all come out if he leaves his money to us."
+
+"He'll do it clever," said Cora bitterly.  "With all his faults he was
+clever enough.  He didn't hide this--so clever as a lapwing hides her
+nest--for near thirty years, to let it come out the minute he was dead."
+
+"If I was engaged to be married, like what you are, I shouldn't be so
+nervous," said Phyllis.
+
+"As to that, 'twas as well for me that it fell out now and not later.
+It may mean a bigger establishment after all; and even a bigger
+wedding, if I put it off till spring."
+
+"My word, what'll Ned say?"
+
+But Ned's view did not enter as a serious factor into Cora's.
+
+"He's all right," she answered.  "If I'm content, so's he."
+
+
+Storm heralded the funeral day, and dawn blinked red-eyed from much
+weeping.  It was hoped that further torrents might hold off until after
+the ceremony, and happily they did so, though intermittent rain fell
+and the wind stormed roughly out of a sad-coloured south.
+
+"'Blessed be the carpse that the rain rains on,'" said Joe Voysey in
+muffled accents to Jack Head.
+
+They were walking under the coffin, and bore it, with the assistance of
+six other men, to the grave.
+
+"Ban't so blessed for them that's alive, however," answered Jack.  "The
+mourners will be lashed out of their skins by the look of it.  Death's
+never so busy as at a funeral."
+
+A purple pall spread over the coffin, and while humble men carried the
+weight of Nathan Baskerville's dust, others of greater repute stood at
+the corners of the coverlet.  They included Mr. Luscombe of
+Trowlesworthy, Timothy Waite of Coldstone Farm, Heathman Lintern as
+representing Undershaugh, one Mr. Popham from Cornwood, Nathan's
+lawyer, and others.
+
+Humphrey Baskerville walked beside the coffin as chief mourner, and
+Hester Baskerville, on her son Ned's arm, followed him with the rest of
+the family, save Nathan's namesake, who was at sea.  Other relations
+came after them, with Nicholas Bassett, Polly's husband, and Milly, the
+wife of Rupert.  Cora and her mother and her sister were next in the
+long procession, and half a dozen private carriages stood together
+beneath the churchyard wall to support a convention and indicate the
+respect that their owners entertained towards the dead.
+
+Flowers covered the pall and stood piled beside the grave.  Crosses,
+wreaths, and various trophies were here, together with many little
+humble bunches from cottage gardens, and not a few mere gleanings from
+the hedgerow of scarlet and crimson berries, or the last autumnal
+splendour of beech and briar.  The air was heavy with emotion, and many
+wept.  A congregational minister conducted the service, and the vicar
+helped him.  After the body had sunk to earth and the rite was nearly
+accomplished, the chief mourners took their last look upon the lid,
+according to custom.  Leaves whirled in the air, and the branches
+overhead made a mighty sigh and swough in the brief silence.  Underfoot
+was trampled mire and reeking grass.  A pushing child slipped in the
+clay at the grave-mouth, and nearly fell in.  She was dragged back by
+Thomas Gollop and despatched weeping to the rear.
+
+Humphrey Baskerville came almost the last to look into the grave, and
+as others had fallen away from it when he did so, he assumed a
+momentary prominence.  His small, bent, and sombre shape appeared alone
+at the edge of the cleft-in earth, with flowers piled about his knees.
+Then suddenly, ominously, cutting its way through the full diapason of
+the storm-sounds on trees and tower, there crept a different utterance.
+The wind shouted deep and loud; but this noise was thin and harsh--a
+hissing, a sharp, shrill sibilation that gained volume presently and
+spread epidemic into the crowded ranks of the collected men.  They were
+mostly the young who permitted themselves this attack, but not a few of
+their elders joined with them.  The sounds deepened; a groan or two
+threaded the hisses.  Then Baskerville, from his abstraction, awakened
+to the terrific fact that here, beside his brother's grave, in the eyes
+of all men, a demonstration had broken out against him.  Hands were
+pointed, even fists were shaken.
+
+He could not immediately understand; he looked helplessly into certain
+angry faces, and then shrank back from the grave to where his relations
+stood.
+
+"What's the meaning of this?" he asked Ned; but the young man turned
+and pretended not to hear him.  Then the truth came hurtling like a
+missile.  Voices shouted at him the words 'murderer' and
+'brother-killer.'
+
+The fire that lights a mob into one blaze was afoot, and leaping from
+heart to head.  Many for a jest bellowed these insults at him, and
+thought it good for once to bate so unpopular a creature.  A few in
+honest and righteous rage cried out their wrath.  Of such were those
+who stoned the martyrs to serve their jealous gods.  More stones than
+one now actually did fly, and Humphrey was struck upon the arm.  A
+counter display of feeling ran like a wave against the enemies of the
+man, and induced a shock in the crowd.  Masterman and others laboured
+to still the gathering storm; women's voices clacked against the
+gruffer noise of the men.  Voysey, with admirable presence of mind,
+drew some boards over the dead in his grave, that no quick spirit might
+suddenly fall upon him.
+
+The disturbance ended as swiftly as it had begun, for Humphrey
+Baskerville made a bolt, dashed through the crowd, descended the
+churchyard steps, and reached the street.  A dozen hastened to follow,
+but Jack Head, Lintern, Waite, Mr. Masterman, and Ben North, the
+policeman, resisted the rioters, and kept them within the churchyard
+walls as far as possible.  Jack hit so hard that soon he was involved
+in a battle against odds on his own account.
+
+Meantime, with a clod or two whizzing past his head, Humphrey reached
+the street corner and hastened round it.  Here was silence and peace.
+He stopped, and his brain grew dizzy.  Such exertion he had not made
+for many years.  He heard the noise of men and hastened on.  A chaos of
+ideas choked his mind and dammed all play of coherent thought.  He had
+heard a rumour that the thing he had done for his brother was regarded
+differently by different men, but he knew not that so many were
+incensed and enraged.  The shock of the discovery disarmed him now and
+left him frantic.  He looked forward, and believed that his last hope
+of reconciliation with humanity was dead.  He envied the eternal peace
+of his brother as he struggled on against the hill homeward.
+
+Into the black and water-logged heart of Shaugh Moor he climbed
+presently, and from exhaustion and faintness fell there.  He stopped
+upon the ground for a few moments; then lifted himself to his hands and
+knees; then sat down upon a stone and stared down into the theatre of
+this tragedy.
+
+Overhead a sky as wild as his soul made huge and threatening
+preparations for the delayed tempest.  Through the tangled skirts of
+the darkness westerly there strove and spread great passages of
+dazzling silver all tattered and torn and shredded out of the black and
+weltering clouds.  For a moment in the midst of this radiance there
+opened a farewell weather-gleam, where the azure firmament was seen
+only to vanish instantly.  Then the gloom gathered, and huddled up in
+ridges of purple and of lead.  Aloft, from the skirt of the main
+cumulus, where it swept under the zenith, there hung, light as a veil,
+yet darker than the sky behind them, long, writhing tentacles, that
+twisted down and curled in sinister suspension, that waved and twined,
+and felt hither and thither horribly, like some aerial hydra seeking
+prey.
+
+For a time these curtains of the rain swayed clear of earth; but their
+progress swept them against it, and they burst their vials upon the
+bosom of the Moor.  The storm shrieked, exploded, emptied itself with
+howling rage out of the sudden darkness.  Then the fury of these
+tenebrous moments passed; the hurricane sped onward, and the dim wet
+ray that followed struck down upon a heath whitened with ice for miles.
+A bitterness of cold and an ice-blink of unfamiliar radiance were
+thrown upwards from the crust of the hail; but soon it melted, and the
+waste, now running with a million rivulets, grew dark again.
+
+The spectacle must have been impressive to any peaceful mind, but
+Baskerville saw nothing hyperbolic in the rage of wind and water.  The
+storm cited by Nature was not more tremendous than that tornado now
+sweeping through his own soul.
+
+
+
+END OF SECOND BOOK
+
+
+
+
+BOOK III
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+Humphrey Baskerville continued to stalk the stage of life like a lonely
+ghost, and still obscured from all men and women the secrets of his
+nature, and the fierce interest of his heart in matters human.  The
+things that he most wished to display he deliberately concealed, as a
+shy child who makes a toy, and longs to show it, but dares not, yet
+grows warm to the roots of his being if the treasure is found and
+applauded.  Behind doubts, suspicions and jealousies he hid himself;
+his tongue was rough; his utterances at the outrage put upon him before
+the people by his brother's grave were bitter and even coarse.  Nor did
+it abate his concern to know that the hostile explosion was as much
+simulated as genuine, as much mischievous as meant.  It drove him in
+upon himself; it poisoned his opinion of human wisdom; and for a time
+he moved through darkest night.
+
+Yet this transcendent gloom preceded a dawn; the crisis of his unquiet
+days approached; and, from the death of Nathan onward, life changed
+gradually for the man, and opened into a way that until now had been
+concealed from his scrutiny.
+
+There chanced an hour when Humphrey Baskerville rode upon his pony
+under the high ground above Cornwood.  He came by appointment to meet
+his dead brother's lawyer, and accident had postponed the interview for
+some weeks.  The solicitor desired to see him.  There were strange
+rumours in the air, and it was declared that a very surprising and
+unexpected condition of things had appeared upon the publican's passing.
+
+Humphrey refused to hear even his own relations upon the matter, for he
+held Nathan's estate no concern of his; but at the urgent entreaties of
+Mr. Popham, the master of Hawk House now rode to see him.  He had,
+however, already made it clear that he was to be considered in no way
+responsible for his brother's obligations, and felt unprepared to offer
+advice or engage himself in any particular.
+
+He passed across the shoulder of Pen Beacon, through a wild world of
+dun-coloured hills, streaked with flitting radiance, and clouded in
+billowy moisture driven before a great wind.  The sky was lowering, and
+a gale from the Atlantic swept with tremendous power along; but the
+nature of the scene it struck was such that little evidence of the
+force displayed could appear to the beholder.  Stone and steep and
+sodden waste stared blindly at the pressure and flinched not.  It
+remained for wandering beast or man to bend before it and reveal its
+might.  On the pelt of the sheep and cattle, or against the figure of a
+wanderer, its buffet was manifest; and, in the sky, the fierce breath
+of it herded the clouds into flocks, that sped and spread and gathered
+again too swiftly for the telling.  They broke in billows of sudden
+light; they massed into darkness and hid the earth beneath them; then
+again they parted, and, like a ragged flag above a broken army, the
+clean blue unfurled.
+
+Over this majestic desolation suddenly there shot forth a great company
+of rooks, and the wind drove them before it--whirling and wheeling and
+tumbling in giddy dives, only to mount again.  A joyous spirit clearly
+dominated the feathered people.  They circled and cried aloud in merry
+exultation of the air.  They swooped and soared, rushed this way and
+that on slanting pinions, played together and revelled in the immense
+force that drove them like projectiles in a wild throng before it.
+Even to these aerial things such speed was strange.  They seemed to
+comment in their language upon this new experience.  Then the instinct
+unfathomed that makes vast companies of living creatures wheel and warp
+together in mysterious and perfect unison, inspired them.  They turned
+simultaneously, ascended and set their course against the wind.  But
+they could make no headway now, and, in a cloud, they were blown
+together, discomforted, beaten to leeward.  Whereupon they descended
+swiftly to the level of the ground, and, flying low, plodded together
+back whence they had come.  At a yard or two above earth's surface they
+steadily flapped along, cheated the wind, and for a few moments flashed
+a reflected light over the Moor with their innumerable shining black
+bodies and pinions outspread.  At a hedge they rose only to dip again,
+and here Humphrey, who drew up to watch them, marked how they worked in
+the teeth of the gale, and was near enough to see their great grey
+bills, their anxious, glittering eyes, and their hurtling feathers
+blown awry as they breasted the hedge, fought over, and dipped again.
+
+"'Tis the same as life," he reflected.  "Go aloft and strive for high
+opinions, and the wind of doubt blows you before it like a leaf.  Up
+there you can travel with the storm, not against it.  If you want to go
+t'other way, you've got to feel along close to earth seemingly--to
+earth and the manners of earth and the folk of the earth.  And hard
+work at that; but better than driving along all alone."
+
+He derived some consolation from this inchoate thought, and suspected a
+moral; but the simile broke down.  His mind returned to Mr. Popham
+presently, and, taking leave of the Moor, he descended and arrived at
+the lawyer's house upon the appointed hour.
+
+The things that he heard, though he was prepared for some such recital,
+astounded him by their far-reaching gravity.  The fact was of a
+familiar character; but it came with the acidulated sting of novelty to
+those involved.  An uproar, of which Humphrey in his isolation had
+heard but the dim echo, already rioted through Shaugh Prior, and far
+beyond it.
+
+"I'll give you a sketch of the situation," said the man of business.
+"And I will then submit my own theory of it--not that any theory can
+alter the exceedingly unpleasant facts.  It belongs merely to the moral
+side of the situation, and may help a little to condone our poor
+friend's conduct.  In a word, I do not believe he was responsible."
+
+"Begin at the other end," answered Humphrey.  "Whether he was
+responsible or not won't help us now.  And it won't prevent honest men
+spurning his grave, I fancy."
+
+Mr. Popham collected his papers and read a long and dismal statement.
+His client had always kept his affairs closely to himself, and such was
+the universal trust and confidence that none ever pressed him to do
+otherwise.  He had been given a free hand in the administration of
+considerable sums; he had invested where he pleased, and for many years
+had enjoyed the best of good fortune, despite the hazardous character
+of the securities he affected.
+
+"No man was ever cursed with such an incurable gift of hope," explained
+the lawyer.  "All along the line you'll find the same sanguine and
+unjustifiable methods exhibited.  The rate per cent was all he cared
+about.  His custom was to pay everybody four and a half, and keep the
+balance.  But when companies came to grief nobody heard anything about
+it; he went on paying the interest, and, no doubt, went on hoping to
+make good the capital.  This, however, he seldom appears to have done.
+There are about forty small people who deposited their savings with
+him, and there is nothing for any of them but valueless paper.  He was
+bankrupt a dozen times over, and the thing he'd evidently pinned his
+last hope to--a big South American silver mine--is going the way of the
+others.  Had it come off, the position might have been retrieved; but
+it is not coming off.  He put five thousand pounds into it--not his own
+money--and hoped, I suppose, to make thirty thousand.  It was his last
+flutter."
+
+"Where did he get the money?"
+
+"By mortgaging Cadworthy and by using a good deal of his late brother's
+capital.  I mean the estate of Mr. Vivian Baskerville."
+
+"He's a fraudulent trustee, then?"
+
+"He is.  He had already mortgaged all his own property.  He was in a
+very tight place about the time of Mr. Vivian's death, and the money he
+had to handle then carried him on."
+
+"What did he do with his own money?  How did he spend that?"
+
+"We shall never know, unless somebody comes forward and tells us.  I
+trace the usual expenditures of a publican and other expenses.  He
+always kept a good horse or two, and he rode to hounds until latterly,
+and subscribed to several hunts.  He was foolishly generous at all
+times.  I see that he gave away large sums anonymously--but
+unfortunately they were not his own.  There is no doubt that his
+judgment failed completely of late years.  He was so accustomed to
+success that he had no experience of failure, and when inevitable
+failures came, they found him quite unprepared with any reserves
+against them.  To stem the tide he gambled, and when his speculations
+miscarried, he waded still more deeply.  He was engaged in borrowing a
+large sum of money just before his final illness.  Indeed, he came to
+me for it, for he kept me quite in the dark concerning existing
+mortgages on his property.  But he forgot I should want the
+title-deeds.  He was a devious man, but I shall always believe that he
+lacked moral understanding to know the terrible gravity of the things
+he did."
+
+"How do we stand now?"
+
+"The estate is from six thousand to seven thousand pounds to the bad."
+
+"What is there against that?"
+
+"The assets are practically nil.  About forty pounds at the bank, and
+the furniture at 'The White Thorn' Inn.  Of course, his largest
+creditor will be Mr. Ned Baskerville, of Cadworthy Farm.  I want to
+say, by the way, that this state of things is quite as much of a
+surprise to me as to anybody.  It is true that I have been his
+solicitor for twenty years, but my work was nominal.  I had no
+knowledge whatever of his affairs.  He never consulted me when in
+difficulties, or invited my opinion on any subject."
+
+"What about the Linterns?"
+
+"They have asked to stop at Undershaugh for the present.  I fancy Mrs.
+Lintern was a close friend of your brother's.  However, she is not
+communicative.  The mortgagee in that case, of course, forecloses, and
+will, I think, be contented to let Mrs. Lintern stop where she is."
+
+"There was no will?"
+
+"I can find none."
+
+"Yet I know very well he made one ten years ago.  At least, he came to
+me once rather full of it."
+
+"It is very likely that he destroyed it."
+
+There was a silence; then Humphrey Baskerville asked a question.
+
+"Well, what d'you want of me?"
+
+The other shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"I leave that to you.  You know how much or how little you regard this
+disaster as a personal one."
+
+"It has nothing whatever to do with me.  I never lent him a penny.  He
+never asked me to do so."
+
+"You don't recognise any obligation?"
+
+"Absolutely not a shadow of any such thing."
+
+"The family of which you are now head----?"
+
+"A sentimental lawyer!"
+
+The other laughed.
+
+"Not much room for sentimentality--at least, plenty of room, no doubt.
+Of course, if you don't consider----"
+
+He broke off, but his listener did not speak.
+
+"It is to be understood I must not ask you to help me?"
+
+"Not in any practical way--not with money--certainly not.  For the
+rest, if as a man of business I can be of any service----"
+
+"For the sake of the family."
+
+"The family is nothing to me--at least, the one hit hardest is nothing
+to me.  He'll have to work for his living now.  That's no hardship.  It
+may be the best thing that's befallen him yet."
+
+"Very true, indeed.  Well, let us leave the main question open.  The
+case has no very unusual features.  Occasionally the world trusts a man
+to his grave, and then finds out, too late, that it was mistaken.  It
+is extraordinary what a lot of people will trust a good heart, Mr.
+Baskerville.  Trust, like hope, springs eternal in the human breast."
+
+"Does it?  I've never found much come my way.  And I'm not strong in
+trust myself.  I felt friendly to Nathan, because he was my own flesh
+and blood; but trust him--no."
+
+"He didn't confide in you?"
+
+"Never."
+
+Mr. Baskerville rose.
+
+"I shall see my relations no doubt pretty soon.  I fancy they'll pay me
+some visits.  Well, why not?  I'm lonely, and rolling in money--so they
+think.  And--there's a woman that I rather expect to call upon me.  In
+fact, I've bidden her to do so.  Perhaps, if she don't, I'll call on
+her.  For the present we can leave it.  If there's no money, nobody can
+hope to be paid.  We'll talk more on that later.  Who's got Cadworthy?"
+
+"Westcott of Cann Quarries.  He lent the money on it."
+
+"What the devil does he want with it?" asked Mr. Baskerville.
+
+"That I can't tell you.  Probably he doesn't want it.  He's foreclosed,
+of course.  It was only out of friendship and regard for Mr. Nathan
+that he lent so much money on the place.  He tells me that your brother
+explained to him that it was for a year or so to help Ned; and out of
+respect for the family he gladly obliged."
+
+"Didn't know Westcott was so rich."
+
+"You never know who's got the money in these parts.  But 'tis safe to
+bet that it isn't the man who spends most.  There's Mr. Timothy Waite,
+too, he lent Nathan a thousand, six months ago.  Some cock-and-bull
+story your poor brother told him, and of course, for such a man, he
+gladly obliged.  Each that he raised money from thought he was the only
+one asked, of course."
+
+"He was a rogue, and the worst sort of rogue--a chapel-going,
+preaching, generous-handed, warm-hearted rogue.  Such men are the
+thieves of virtue.  'Tis an infamous story."
+
+The lawyer stared, and Humphrey continued.
+
+"Such men are robbers, I tell you--robbers of more than money and
+widows' houses.  They are always seeming honest, and never being so.
+They run with the hare and hunt with the hounds.  They get the benefit
+of being rogues, and the credit of honest men.  They are imitation good
+men, and at heart know not the meaning of real goodness.  They have the
+name of being generous and kind--they are neither.  Look what this man
+has left behind him--blessings turned to curses.  All a sham, and a
+lifelong theft of men's admiration and esteem--a theft; for he won it
+by false pretences and lived a lie."
+
+"He is dead, however."
+
+"Yes, he is dead; and I suppose you are the sort who like to palter
+with facts and never speak ill of the dead.  Why should we not tell the
+truth about those who are gone?  Does it hurt them to say it?  No; but
+it may do the living some good to say it.  If living knaves see us
+condoning and forgiving dead ones, will they turn from their knavery
+any the quicker?  We're a slack-twisted, sentimental generation.
+Justice is the last thing thought of.  It's so easy to be merciful to
+people who have sinned against somebody else.  But mercy's slow poison,
+if you ask me.  It rots the very roots of justice."
+
+The other shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"The first of Christian virtues, Mr. Baskerville, we must remember
+that.  But argument won't alter facts.  You don't see your way to do
+anything definite, so there's an end of it.  Of course, there is no
+shadow of obligation."
+
+"You're right.  I'll visit you again presently.  Meantime you might let
+me have a copy of the claims.  I'm interested in knowing how many fools
+trusted my dead brother with their money.  I should like to know what
+manner of man and woman put their savings into another man's pocket
+without security.  It seems contrary to human nature."
+
+"There's no objection at all.  They are all clamouring for their money.
+And if the South American silver mine had done all that was hoped, not
+only would they have had their cash, but your brother must have saved
+his own situation, cleared his responsibilities, and died solvent."
+
+"'If.'  There's generally a rather big 'if' with a South American
+anything, I believe."
+
+They parted, and Humphrey Baskerville rode home again.  Upon the way he
+deeply pondered all the things that he had heard, and not until he was
+back at Hawk House did distraction from these thoughts come.  Then he
+found that a woman waited to see him.  It was Priscilla Lintern, who
+had called at his invitation; and now he remembered that he had asked
+her, and half regretted the act.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+Mrs. Lintern arrived by appointment, for while one instinct of his
+nature pressed Humphrey to evade this problem and take no hand in the
+solution, another and more instant impulse acted in opposition.
+
+He surveyed the sweep of events as they struck at those involved in
+Nathan's ruin and death; and acting upon reasons now to be divulged, he
+sent first for the mistress of Undershaugh; because in his judgment her
+right to consideration was paramount.
+
+Even in the act of summoning her, he told himself that these claims
+were no business of his to investigate; and that he was a fool to
+meddle.  He repudiated responsibility at one breath, and deliberately
+assumed it with the next.  His own motives he did not pause to examine.
+
+Introspection irritated him and he turned from his conflicting ideas
+with impatience.  In himself he only saw a very ill-balanced,
+imprudent, and impertinent person; yet he proceeded.
+
+Now came Mrs. Lintern to know what he would have, and he saw her with
+an emotion of hearty regret that he had invited her.
+
+In answer to his first question she assured him that she and her
+children were well.
+
+"I'm afraid putting off the wedding has annoyed your nephew a good
+bit," she said; "but Cora felt that it was better; and so did I."
+
+"Why did you think so?"
+
+"Well, your brother held it so much to heart; and he was Ned's uncle.
+We could only have made a very quiet business of it in decency; and
+Cora felt 'twould be sad to marry under the cloud of death."
+
+"Half the sorrow in the world is wasted on what can't be helped.  It's
+folly to mourn what's beyond altering--just as great folly as to mourn
+the past.  Surely you know that?"
+
+"No doubt; but who can help it that's made on a human pattern?"
+
+"The world would be a cheerful place if none wept for what can't be
+altered.  There was nothing in reason to stand between us and the
+wedding.  'Twas my brother's last wish, for that matter."
+
+She did not answer and a silence fell between them.  He was determined
+that she should break it, and at length she did so.
+
+"Your brother was very fond of Cora.  Of course, we at Undershaugh miss
+him a very great deal."
+
+"You would--naturally."
+
+"At present the idea is that they get married in spring; and that won't
+be none too soon, for everything's altered now.  They'll have to sell
+half they bought, and get rid of their fine house and their horses, and
+much else.  This business has entirely altered the future for them,
+poor things."
+
+"Utterly, of course.  'Twill have to be real love to stand this pinch.
+Better they wait a bit and see how they feel about it.  They may change
+their minds.  Both are pretty good at that."
+
+She sighed.
+
+"They understand each other, I believe.  But Ned won't change, whatever
+Cora does.  He's wrapped up heart and soul in her."
+
+"He'll have to seek work now."
+
+"Yes; he is doing so."
+
+"The one thing he's never looked for.  Harder to find work than foxes."
+
+"He's not good for much."
+
+"You say that of your future son-in-law?"
+
+"Truth's truth.  A harmless and useless man.  I can't for the life of
+me think what he'll find to do."
+
+"Nathan would have given him a job--eh?  How wonderful he was at
+finding work for people.  And what does Cora think of it all?":
+
+"She's a very secret girl."
+
+"And Heathman?"
+
+"Heathman be going to make my home for me--somewhere.  'Tisn't decided
+where we go."
+
+"You leave Undershaugh, then?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Nathan wouldn't have wished that, I'm sure."
+
+"We were to have stopped, but the new owner wants to raise the rent to
+nearly as much again."
+
+"What used you to pay?"
+
+She hesitated.  Like many people whose position has forced them into
+the telling of countless lies, she was still tender of truth in trifles.
+
+"No matter," he said.  "I can guess the figure very easily, and
+nought's the shape of it."
+
+A sinister foreboding flashed through her mind.  It seemed impossible
+to suppose such an innuendo innocent.  Miss Gollop had said many
+offensive things concerning her after Nathan's death; but few had
+believed them, and still fewer shown the least interest in the subject.
+It was absurd to suppose that Humphrey Baskerville would trouble his
+head with such a rumour.
+
+"Your brother was generous to all," she answered.
+
+"Why, he was.  And if charity shouldn't begin at home, where should it?"
+
+"He was very generous to all," she repeated.
+
+"I've been seeing Mr. Popham to-day."
+
+"He's a true kind man, and wishful to do what he can.  The rent asked
+now for Undershaugh is too high, even in the good state we've made it.
+So I've got to leave."
+
+"'Twill be a wrench."
+
+"Yes, indeed."
+
+"But not such a bad one as his death?"
+
+"That's true."
+
+He probed her.
+
+"Never to see him come down your path with his bustling gait; never to
+hear the laughter of the man.  You held his hand when he went out of
+life.  He loved you--'twas the master passion of him."
+
+A flush of colour leapt and spread over her face.  She gasped but said
+nothing.
+
+"A cruel thing that he left you as he did."
+
+"What was I?" she began, alert and ready to fight at once and crush
+this suspicion.  "What are you saying?  We were nothing----"
+
+He held up his hand.
+
+"A fool's trick--a lifelong fool's trick to hide it--a cruel, witless
+thing--a wrong against generations unborn--scandalous--infamous--beyond
+belief in a sane man."
+
+"I don't understand you.  God's my----"
+
+"Hush--hush!  I'm not an enemy.  You needn't put out your claws; you
+needn't lie to me.  You needn't break oaths to me.  It's a secret
+still; but I know it--only me.  You were his mistress, Priscilla
+Lintern--his mistress and the mother of his children."
+
+"He never told you that."
+
+"Not he."
+
+"Who did tell you?"
+
+"Cora told me."
+
+"She'd rather have----"
+
+"She told me--not in words; but every other way.  I knew it the hour
+she came to see me, after she was engaged to marry my son.  She strokes
+her chin like Nat stroked his beard.  Have you marked that?  She thinks
+just like Nat thought in a lot of ways, though she's not got his heart.
+She's not near so silly as he was.  Her voice was the echo to his as
+soon as I got the clue.  Her eyes were his again.  She handles her
+knife and fork just like he was wont to do it; she sets her head o' one
+side to listen to anybody in the way he did.  There's birds do it
+too--when they gather worms out of the grass.  And from that I took to
+marking t'others.  Your second girl be more like you; but Heathman will
+be nearer his father every day as he gets older.  If he growed a beard,
+he'd be nearer him now.  Wait and watch.  And he's got his heart.
+Don't speak till you hear more.  From finding out that much, I sounded
+Nathan himself.  Little he guessed it, but what I didn't know, I soon
+learned from him.  Cora was the apple of his eye.  She could do no
+wrong.  'Twas Vivian and Ned over again.  He spoke of you very guarded,
+but I knew what was behind.  It came out when he was dying, and he was
+too far gone to hide it.  And let me say this: I'll never forgive him
+for doing such a wicked thing--never.  God may; but I won't.  I
+wouldn't forgive myself if I forgave him.  But you--you--dull man as I
+am, I can see a bit of what your life was."
+
+"A better life--a more precious life than mine no woman ever lived."
+
+He took a deep breath.
+
+Here she tacitly confessed to all that he had declared.  She did not
+even confirm it in words, but granted it and proceeded with the
+argument.  And yet his whole theory had been built upon presumption.
+If she had denied the truth, he possessed no shadow of power to prove
+it.
+
+"If ever I pitied anybody, I pity you; and I admire you in a sort of
+left-handed way.  You're a very uncommon creature to have hid it in the
+face of such a village as Shaugh Prior."
+
+"What I am he made me.  He was a man in ten thousand."
+
+"I hope he was.  Leave him.  Let me say this afore we get on.  I don't
+judge you and, God knows it, I'm alive to this thing from your point of
+view.  You loved him well enough even for that.  But there's no will.
+He had nothing to leave; therefore--unless you've saved money during
+his lifetime----?"
+
+"I don't want you to have anything to do with my affairs, Mr.
+Baskerville."
+
+"As you please.  But there are your children to be considered.  Now it
+may very much surprise you to know that I have thought a lot about
+them.  Should you say, speaking as an outsider, that I'm under any
+obligation to serve them?"
+
+The sudden and most unexpected question again startled the blood from
+Mrs. Lintern's heart.
+
+"What a terrible curious man you are!  What a question to ask me!" she
+said.
+
+"Answer it, however--as if you wasn't interested in it."
+
+"No," she declared presently.  "None can say that they are anything to
+do with you.  You wasn't your brother's keeper.  They be no kin of
+yours in law or justice."
+
+"In law--no.  In justice they are of my blood.  Not that that's
+anything.  You're right.  They are nought to me.  And you are less than
+nought.  But----"  He stopped.
+
+"Why have you told me that you have found this out?" she asked.  "What
+good can come of it?  You'll admit at least 'tis a sacred secret, and
+you've no right whatever to breathe it to a living soul?  You won't
+deny that?"
+
+"There again--there's such a lot of sides to it.  You might argue for
+and against.  Justice is terrible difficult.  Suppose, for instance,
+that I held, like Jack Head holds and many such, that 'tis a very
+improper thing and a treachery to the unborn to let first cousins
+mate--suppose I held to that?  Ought I to sit by and let Cora marry
+Ned?  Now there's a nice question for an honest man.
+
+"You were going to let Cora marry your own son."
+
+"I don't know so much about that.  They were engaged to each other
+before I found it out, and then, as she soon flung him over, there was
+no need for me to speak.  Now, the question is, shall I let these two
+of the same blood breed and maybe bring feebler things than themselves
+into the world?"
+
+"This is all too deep for me.  One thing I know, and that is you can
+say nought.  You've come to the truth, by the terrible, wonderful
+brains in your head; but you've no right to make it known."
+
+"You're ashamed of it?"
+
+She looked at him almost with contempt.
+
+"You can ask that and know me, even so little as you do?  God's my
+judge that I'd shout it out from the top of the church tower to-morrow;
+I'd be proud for the world to know; and so much the louder I'd sing it
+because he's gone down to his grave unloved and in darkness.  It would
+make life worth living to me, even now, if I could open my mouth and
+fight for him against the world.  Not a good word do I hear now--all
+curse him--all forget the other side of him--all forget how his heart
+went out to the sorrowful and sad....  But there--what's the use of
+talking?  He don't want me to fight for him."
+
+"If you feel that, why don't you stand up before the people and tell
+'em?"
+
+"There's my children."
+
+"Be they more to you than he was?"
+
+"No; but they are next."
+
+"I hate deceit.  Who'll think the worse of them?"
+
+"Who won't?"
+
+"None that are worth considering."
+
+"You know very little about the world, for all that you are deep as the
+dark and can find out things hidden.  What about my darters?  No, it
+wouldn't be a fair thing to let it out."
+
+"I hold it very important."
+
+"It shan't be, I tell you.  You can't do it; you never would."
+
+"You're right.  I never would.  But that's not to say I don't wish it
+to come out.  For them, mind you, I speak.  I leave you out now.  I put
+you first and you say you'd like it known.  So I go on to them, and I
+tell you that for their peace of mind and well-being in the future,
+'tis better a thousand times they should start open and fair, without
+the need of this lie between them and the world."
+
+"I don't agree with that.  When the truth was told them on his
+deathbed, 'twas settled it should never go no further."
+
+"Wait and think a moment before you decide.  What has it been to you to
+hide the truth all your life?"
+
+"A necessity.  I soon grew used to it.  Nobody was hurt by it.  And
+Nathan kept his money."
+
+"Don't fool yourself to think that none was hurt by it.  Everybody was
+hurt by it.  A prosperous lie be like a prosperous thistle: it never
+yet flourished without ripening seed and increasing its own poisonous
+stock a thousandfold.  The world's full of that thistledown.  Your
+children know the truth themselves; therefore I say it should come out.
+They've no right to stand between you and the thing you want to do.
+I'll wager Heathman don't care--it's only your daughters."
+
+"More than that.  Nathan would never have wished it known."
+
+"No argument at all.  He was soaked in crookedness and couldn't see
+straight for years afore he died."
+
+"I won't have it and I won't argue about it."
+
+"Well, your word's law.  But you're wrong; and you'll live to know
+you're wrong.  Now what are you going to do?  We'll start as though I
+knew nought of this for the moment."
+
+"I stop at Undershaugh till spring.  I've got no money to name.  We
+shall settle between ourselves--me and Heathman."
+
+"I'll----"
+
+He stopped.
+
+"No," he said; "I can't promise anything, come to think of it; and I
+can't commit myself.  'Tis folly to say, 'let the position be as though
+I didn't know the truth.'  It can't be.  I do know it, and I'm
+influenced by it.  I'll do nothing at all for any of you unless this
+comes out.  I say that, not because I don't care for my brother's
+children, but because I do care for them."
+
+"I don't want you to do anything.  I've got my son.  I refuse
+absolutely to speak.  Until my children are all of one mind about it,
+the thing must be hidden up--yes, hidden up for evermore.  I won't
+argue the right or the wrong.  'Tis out of my hands, and so long as one
+of them says 'no,' I hold it my duty to keep silent.  And, of course,
+'tis yours also."
+
+"Who knows what my duty would be if Ned was going to marry Cora?  I'd
+sacrifice the unborn to you; but not to your daughter and my nephew.
+There have been enough tongues to curse that worthless pair already.
+You don't want their own children to do the same in the time to come?
+But perhaps I know as much about Cora as you do about Ned.  Wait and
+see if she changes her mind, since he has lost his fortune."
+
+Priscilla rose.
+
+"I will go now," she said.  "Of course, you can't guess how this looks
+to a woman--especially to me of all women.  To find that you knew--and
+no doubt you thought I'd come here and drop dead afore you of shame."
+
+"No, I didn't.  If you'd been that sort, I shouldn't have plumped it
+out so straight.  You are a brave creature, and must always have been
+so.  Well, I won't deny you the name of wife in secret--if you like to
+claim it."
+
+She was moved and thanked him.  Satisfaction rather than concern
+dominated her mind as she returned homeward.  She felt glad that
+Nathan's brother knew, and no shadow of fear dimmed her satisfaction;
+for she was positive that, despite any declared doubts, he would never
+make the truth public.
+
+Her own attitude was even as she had described it.  She would have
+joyed to declare her close companionship, if only to stop the tongues
+of those who hesitated not to vilify the dead before her.
+
+Eliza Gollop had told many stories concerning Mrs. Lintern's attendance
+in the sick room; but few were interested in them or smelt a scandal.
+They never identified Priscilla with the vanished innkeeper; they did
+not scruple to censure Nathan before her and heap obloquy on his fallen
+head.
+
+Often with heart and soul she longed to fight for him; often she had
+some ado to hide her impotent anger; but a lifetime of dissimulation
+had skilled her in the art of self-control.  She listened and looked
+upon the angry man or woman; she even acquiesced in the abuse by
+silence.  Seldom did she defend the dead man, excepting in secret
+against her daughters.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+When Cora Lintern returned home she brought with her a resolution.  Her
+intentions were calculated to cause pain, and she carried them so much
+the quicker to execution, that the thing might be done and the blow
+struck as swiftly as possible.  She revealed her plan to none, and only
+made it public when he who was chiefly involved had learned it.
+
+Ned Baskerville called to see Cora, who had been stopping with friends;
+and when she had spoken upon general subjects, she made him come out
+with her to the wintry side of West Down, and there imparted her wintry
+news.
+
+"Have you found anything to do?" was Cora's first question, and he
+answered that he had not.
+
+"People don't understand me," he said.  "Here is Rupert talking about
+labourer's work, as if it was a perfectly decent suggestion to make.
+My farm's gone, and he seems to think I might offer to stop there under
+somebody, like he has himself."
+
+"You want something better."
+
+"Why, of course.  I might get a clerkship or some such thing, I should
+think.  A man who has lived my life can't go and dig potatoes.  But the
+difficulty is to get work like that away from towns.  I can't be
+expected to live in a town, and I won't."
+
+"Mr. Tim Waite is a friend of the people I've been stopping with," she
+said.  "He's rich and all that.  I believe he might find----"
+
+"Thank you for nothing, Cora.  I'm hardly likely to trouble him, am I?"
+
+"Not much use talking like that."
+
+"I'll take patronage, if I must, because beggars can't be choosers; but
+I'll not take it from my inferiors."
+
+"'Inferiors'!  That's a funny word for you to use.  How is Timothy
+Waite your inferior?  I don't see it."
+
+"Don't you?" he answered, getting red.  "Then you ought to see it.
+Damn it all, Cora, you're so cold-blooded where I'm concerned.  And yet
+you're supposed to love me and want to marry me."
+
+"I'm not a fool, and if 'tis cold-blooded to have a bit of
+common-sense, then I'm cold-blooded.  Though I'm a bit tired of hearing
+you fling the word in my face.  Timothy Waite always was as good a man
+as you; and why not?"
+
+"I should call him a mean, money-grubbing sort of chap
+myself--close-fisted too.  He's not a sportsman, anyway.  You can't
+deny that."
+
+"Not much good being generous, if you've got nought to be generous
+with.  And mean he is not.  He lent money to your uncle, and never
+pushed the claim half as hard as many smaller men.  I know him a long
+sight better than you do.  And, if you've got any sense left, you'll go
+to him and ask him if he can help you to find a job.  I'm only thinking
+of you--not myself.  I can go into a hat shop any day; but you--you
+can't do anything.  What are you good for?  For that matter you don't
+seem to be able to get a chance to show what you are good for.  All
+your swell hunting friends are worth just what I said they were worth.
+Now you're down on your luck, they look t'other way."
+
+He began to grow angry.
+
+"You're the fair-weather sort too, then?  One here and there has hinted
+to me that you were--your brother always said it.  But never, never
+would I stand it from any of them.  And now I see that it is so."
+
+"No need to call names.  The case is altered since Nathan Baskerville
+ruined you, and I'm not the sentimental kind to pretend different.  As
+we're on this now, we'd better go through with it.  You want to marry
+me and I wanted to marry you; but we can't live on air, I believe.  I
+can't, anyway.  It's a very simple question.  You wish to marry me so
+soon as I please; but what do you mean to keep me on?  I've got
+nothing--you know that; and you've got less than nothing, for there's
+the rent of the house we were to have lived in."
+
+"I've let the house and I am looking round.  I'm open to any reasonable
+offer."
+
+"What nonsense you talk!  Who are you that people should make you
+offers?  What can you do?  I ask you that again."
+
+"By God!  And you're supposed to love me!"
+
+"When poverty comes in at the door--you know the rest.  I'm not a
+heroine of a story-book.  All very well for you; but what about me?
+You can't afford to marry, and I can't afford not to; so there it
+stands.  There's only one thing in the world--only one thing--that you
+can be trusted to earn money at, and that's teaching people to ride
+horses.  And that you won't do.  I've thought it out, and you needn't
+swear and curse; because it's the truth."
+
+"Damn it all----"
+
+"No good raging.  You're selfish, and you never think of me working my
+fingers to the bone and, very likely, not knowing where to look for a
+meal.  You only want me--not my happiness and prosperity.  That's not
+love.  If you loved me, you would have come long since and released me
+from this engagement, and saved me the pain of all this talk.  Nobody
+ever thinks of me and my future and my anxieties.  I've only got my
+face and--and--you say 'damn' and I'll say it too.
+Damn--damn--damn--that's thrice for your once; and I hate you thrice as
+much as you hate me, and I've thrice the reason to.  I hate you for
+being so selfish; and 'tis no good ever you saying you care about me
+again, because you never did--not really.  You couldn't--else you
+wouldn't have put yourself first always."
+
+He started, quite reduced to silence by this assault.  She struck him
+dumb, but his look infuriated her.
+
+"You won't make me draw back, so you needn't think it," she cried.
+"I'm not ashamed of a word I've said.  'Tis you ought to be ashamed.
+And I'm not sorry for you neither, for you've never once been sorry for
+me.  After the crash, not one word of trouble for my loss and my
+disappointment did you utter--'twas only whining about your horses, and
+the house at Plympton, and all the rest of it.  Vain cursing of the man
+in his grave; when you ought to have cursed yourself for letting him
+have the power to do what he did.  I'd have stuck to you, money or no
+money, if you'd been a different man--I swear that.  I'd have taken you
+and set to work--as I shall now, single-handed--but how can any decent
+girl with a proper conceit of herself sink herself to your level and
+become your drudge?  Am I to work for us both?  Are you going to live
+on the money I make out of women's bonnets?"
+
+"No!" he answered.  "Don't think that.  I'm dull, I know, and
+slow-witted.  Such a fool was I that I never believed anything bad of a
+woman, or ever thought an unkind thought of anything in petticoats.
+But you use very straight English always, and you make your meaning
+perfectly clear.  I know it won't be easy for me to get the work I
+want.  I may be poor for a long time--perhaps always.  I'll release
+you, Cora, if that's what you wish.  No doubt I ought to have thought
+of it; but I'll swear I never did.  I thought you loved me, and
+everything else was small by comparison.  If anybody had said 'release
+her,' I'd have told him that he didn't know what love of woman
+meant--or a woman's love of man.  But you can be free and welcome, and
+put the fault on my shoulders.  They can bear it.  Go to Timothy.  He's
+always wanted you."
+
+"You needn't be coarse.  I'm sick and tired of all you men.  You don't
+know what love means--none of you.  And since you say I'm to go, I'll
+go.  And I'll find peace somewhere, somehow; but not with none of you."
+
+He laughed savagely.
+
+"You've ruined me--that's what you've done.  Meat and drink to you,
+I'll wager!  Ruined me worse than ever my uncle did.  I could have
+stood up against that.  I did.  I'd pretty well got over the pinch of
+it.  Though 'twas far more to me than anybody, I took it better than
+anybody, and my own mother will tell you so.  But why?  Because I
+thought I'd got you safe enough and nothing else mattered.  I never
+thought this misfortune meant that you'd give me the slip.  If any man
+had hinted such a thing, I'd have knocked his teeth down his throat.
+But I was wrong as usual."
+
+"You gave me credit for being a fool as usual."
+
+"Never that, Cora.  I always knew very well you were clever, but I
+thought you were something more.  You crafty things--all of you!  And
+now--what?  'Twill be said I've jilted another girl--not that the only
+woman I ever honestly worshipped with all my heart have jilted me."
+
+"No need to use ugly, silly words about it.  All that will be said by
+sensible people is that we've both seen reason and cut our coats
+according to our cloth.  The people will only say you've got more wits
+than they thought.  Let it be understood we were of the same mind, and
+so we both get a bit of credit for sense."
+
+"Never!" he burst out passionately.  "You're a hard-hearted, cruel
+devil.  You know where the fault is and who's to blame.  You think of
+nought but your own blasted comfort and pleasure, and you never cared
+no more for me than you cared for my cousin before me.  But I'll not
+hang myself--be sure of that!"
+
+She shrugged her shoulders.
+
+"You might do worse, all the same," she said.  "For you're only
+cumbering the earth that I can see."
+
+Thereupon he swore wild oaths and rushed off and left her on the
+hillside alone.
+
+When he was gone she went her own way, but not to Undershaugh.  By deep
+lanes and field-paths familiar to her she took a long walk, and at the
+end of it found herself at Coldstone Farm, the abode of Mr. Timothy
+Waite.  He was from home, and she asked for pen and paper that she
+might leave a note for him.  Her communication was short, and when she
+had written it and sealed it with exceeding care, she set off again for
+home.
+
+Anon Mr. Waite opened it and was much disappointed at the length.  But
+Cora's matter atoned for this shortcoming.
+
+"Have settled with N.B.  Yours, C."
+
+
+And elsewhere, while she retraced her way from Coldstone, the discarded
+lover came to a wild conclusion with himself.  He steadied his steps,
+stood at the Moor edge in two minds, then turned and set off for Hawk
+House.
+
+This blow had staggered him, had even awakened him from the fatuous
+dream in which he passed his days.  He had a vague idea that Humphrey
+might be glad to know of this broken engagement; that it might even put
+his uncle into a more amiable temper.  Ned had been advised by Rupert
+to see Mr. Baskerville; but had declined to do so until the present
+time.
+
+At Hawk House Mrs. Hacker met him and made no effort to hide
+astonishment.
+
+"Wonders never cease, I'm sure!  You, of all men!  Master be on the
+Moor, riding somewheres, but if you want him, you can wait for him.  He
+always comes in at dusk.  How's your young woman?"
+
+The man was in no mood for talk with Susan and cut her short.
+
+"I'll wait, then," he said.  "I'll wait in the garden."
+
+He walked up and down amid the nut trees for an hour.  Then Humphrey
+returned.
+
+Tea was served for them in the kitchen; Susan went out and the way
+opened for Ned.
+
+"You might be surprised to see me," he began; "but though I know you
+don't like me--natural enough too--still, I'm your eldest nephew, and I
+felt at a time like this you'd not refuse to let me speak to you."
+
+"Speak, and welcome."
+
+"Of course, all our lives are turned upside down by this terrible
+business."
+
+"Not all.  In these cases 'tis the drones, not the workers, that are
+hit hardest.  If you've got wit enough to understand what you see under
+your eyes, you'll find that your brother Rupert, for instance, can go
+on with his life much as before; and scores of others---they've lost a
+bit of money--cheated out of it by my brother, the late Nathan
+Baskerville--but it don't wreck them.  'Tis only such as
+you--accustomed all your life to idle and grow fat on other men's
+earnings--'tis only such as you that are stranded by a thing like this.
+I suppose you want to get back into the hive--like t'other drones when
+the pinch of winter comes--and the world won't let you in?"
+
+This uncompromising speech shook Ned and, under the circumstances, he
+felt that it was more than he could bear.
+
+"If you knew what had happened to me to-day, you'd not speak so harsh,
+Uncle Humphrey," he answered.  "I may tell you that I've been struck a
+very cruel blow in the quarter I least expected it.  Cora Lintern's
+thrown me over."
+
+"Cat-hearted little bitch," he said.  "And you bleat about a 'cruel
+blow'!  Why, you young fool, escape from her is the best piece of
+fortune that ever fell to your lot--or is ever likely to.  And you ask
+me to be sorry for you!  Fool's luck is always the best luck.  You've
+had better fortune far than ever you deserved if she's quitted you."
+
+"You can't look at it as I do; you can't see what my life must be
+without her."
+
+"Eat your meat and don't babble that stuff."
+
+Ned shook his head.
+
+"Don't want nothing, thank you."
+
+"Well, hear me," said Humphrey.  "You sought me of your own free will,
+and so you may as well listen.  You've come, because you think I can do
+you a turn--eh?"
+
+"I'm down on my luck, and I thought perhaps that you--anyway, if you
+can help, or if you can't, you might advise me.  I've looked very hard
+and very far for a bit of work such as I could do; and I've not found
+it."
+
+"The work you can do won't be easily found.  Begin at the beginning.
+You're Godless--always have been."
+
+"Let God alone and He'll let you alone--that's my experience," said Ned.
+
+"Is it?  Well, your experience don't reach far.  You've come to the
+place where God's waiting for you now--waiting, and none too pleased at
+what you bring afore Him.  You're a fool, and though we mourn for a
+wise man after he's dead, we mourn for a fool all the days of his life.
+D'you know where that comes from?  Of course you don't."
+
+"I can mend, I suppose?  Anyway, I've got to be myself.  Nobody can be
+different to their own character."
+
+"Granted--you can't rise above your own character; but you can easily
+sink below it.  That's what you have done, and your father helped you
+from the first."
+
+"I won't hear you say nothing against him, Uncle Humphrey.  Good or
+bad, he was all goodness to me."
+
+"You think so, but you're wrong.  Well, I'll leave him.  But 'tis vain
+to judge you too hard when I remember your up-bringing."
+
+"All the same, I will say this for myself: when you pull me to pieces,
+you'll find no wickedness in me worth mentioning.  Whatever I may be,
+I've always behaved like a gentleman and a sportsman, and none will
+deny it," declared Ned.
+
+"The biggest fool can be witty when it comes to excusing his own vices
+to his conscience," replied the old man.  "Fox yourself with that
+rubbish, if you can, not me.  To behave like a gentleman is to be a
+gentleman, I should think, and I understand the word very different
+from you.  You're a selfish, worthless thing--a man that's reached near
+to thirty without putting away his childish toys--a man that's grown to
+man's estate and stature without doing so much good in the world as my
+blind pony--nay, nor so much good as the worm that pulls the autumn
+leaves into the wet ground.  And you pride yourself on being a
+gentleman!  Better larn to be a man first and a gentleman afterwards."
+
+"I've never had no occasion to work till now.  Nobody ever asked me to;
+nobody ever wanted me to.  It was natural that I shouldn't.  A man
+can't help his character, and I can't help mine.  I hate work and
+always shall."
+
+"That's clear, then.  And I can't help my character either.  I hate
+idleness and always shall.  Never have I given a loafer a helping hand,
+and never will I.  A man ought to be like Providence and only help
+those who help themselves."
+
+"But I mean to work; I need to work; I must work."
+
+"Laziness is a cancer," said Mr. Baskerville.  "'Tis just as much a
+cancer as the human ill we call by that name.  And 'tis a modern thing.
+There's something rotten with the world where any man can live without
+earning the right to.  When next you find yourself caddling about on
+the Moor wasting your time, take a look at the roundy-poundies--they
+circles of stones cast about on the hillsides and by the streams.  My
+son Mark knew all about them.  They were set up by men like ourselves
+who lived on the Moor very long ago.  Life was real then.  Nought but
+their own sweat stood between the old men and destruction.  The first
+business of life was to keep life in them days.  They hunted to live,
+not for pleasure.  They hunted and were hunted.  No time to be lazy
+then.  Did they help beggars?  Did they keep paupers?  No; all had to
+toil for the common good; and if a man didn't labour, he didn't eat.
+They had their work cut out for 'em to wring a bare living out of the
+earth and the creatures on it.  No softness of mind or body then.  No
+holidays and pleasurings and revels then.  And I'd have it so again
+to-morrow, if I could.  Work and eat; idle and starve--that's what I'd
+say to my fellow-creatures."
+
+"I mean to work; I'm ready for work."
+
+"All very well to say that now.  You may be ready for work; but what
+sort of work is ready for you?  What can you do?  Can you break stones?
+There's a Cornish proverb hits you this minute: 'Them as can't scheme
+must lowster.'  Your father was very fond of using it--to every lazy
+body but you.  It means that if you haven't the wits to make a living
+with your brains, you must do it with your hands.  It all comes back to
+work."
+
+"I know it does.  I keep on telling you I'm ready for it--any amount of
+it.  But not breaking stones.  I've got brains in my head, though I
+know you don't think so.  I came to-day to know if you would give those
+brains a trial.  I'm a free man now.  Cora has flung me over, so
+there's no obligation anywhere.  I'm free to stand up and show what I'm
+good for.  I've sold my horses and given up hunting already.  That's
+something."
+
+"Something you couldn't help.  How much did you get for that big bright
+bay?"
+
+"Forty-five guineas."
+
+"And gave?"
+
+"Seventy.  But, of course, I've not got enough capital all told to be
+much practical use in buying into anything.  What I really want is five
+hundred pounds."
+
+"A common want."
+
+"And I thought perhaps that you--I thought of it as I came here to see
+you."
+
+"And still you try to make out you're not a fool?"
+
+"I can give interest and security."
+
+"Yes--like your Uncle Nathan, perhaps.  In a word, I'll not do
+anything.  Not a farthing of money and not a hand of help.  But----"
+
+He stopped as the younger man rose.
+
+"I didn't ask for money; I only suggested a loan."
+
+"I'll loan no loans to you or any man.  But this I will do, because you
+are the head of our family now, and I don't want anybody to say I
+helped to cast you lower when you were down.  This I will do: I'll
+double the money you earn."
+
+"Double it!" exclaimed Ned.
+
+"That's my word; and now the boot's on the other leg, and I'm the fool
+for my pains, no doubt.  But understand me.  'Tis what you _earn_, not
+what you get.  When you come to me and say, 'I've found a job, and I'm
+paid so much a week for doing it by an independent man,' then I'll
+double what he gives you.  But let there be no hookemsnivey dealings,
+for I'll very soon find them out if you try it.  Let it be figures, let
+it be horses, let it be clay, let it be stones by the road--I'll double
+what you earn for five years.  By that time, maybe, you'll know what
+work means, and thank Heaven, that's taught you what it means.  Go and
+find work--that's what you've got to do; go and find what you're worth
+in the open market of men.  And you needn't thank me for what I offer.
+'Twill be little enough, I promise you--as you'll find when you come to
+hear the money value of your earning powers."
+
+"All the same I do thank you, and I thank you with all my heart," said
+Ned: "and perhaps you'll be a bit more astonished than you think for,
+Uncle Humphrey, when you find what I can do."
+
+Then his nephew went away in doubt whether to be elated or cast down.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+An elderly man called Abraham Elford became tenant of 'The White Thorn'
+after Baskerville's death.  He lacked the charm of Nathan, and it was
+rumoured that the quality of his liquor by no means equalled that
+provided by the vanished master of the inn; but no choice offered of
+other drinking houses, and the new publican retained all former
+patronage.
+
+One subject at this season proved rich enough to shut out all lesser
+matters from conversation, for the wide waves of concern set rolling
+when Nathan died had as yet by no means subsided.  Each day for many
+days brought news of some fresh disaster to humble folk; and then came
+another sort of intelligence that gratified the few and angered the
+many.
+
+Mr. Elford and certain of his customers, not directly interested, found
+the subject of Nathan's affairs exceedingly wearisome and often sought
+to turn talk into other channels; but not for long could they be said
+to succeed.  Local politics and weather soon lost their power to hold
+the people; and those disasters spread by the late publican swiftly
+cropped up again to the exclusion of less pungent concerns.
+
+A party of men was assembled at 'The White Thorn' near Christmas time,
+and they wrangled on over this well-trodden ground until Joe Voysey,
+who had not suffered, turned to the grey-headed host behind the bar and
+asked a question.
+
+"Did this here fire fail afore you comed, Abraham?" he asked.  "'Tis a
+well-known fact that 'The White Thorn' hearth haven't been cold for a
+hundred year--peat always smouldering, or else blazing, upon it."
+
+"Yes, and a thousand pities," answered the other.  "At the time of Mr.
+Baskerville's death, of course, there was a terrible deal of running
+about and confusion.  And the fire was forgot.  I knowed the old saying
+and was very sorry to see it black out."
+
+"What do it matter?" asked Jack Head.  He was in a quarrelsome mood and
+bad company on the occasion.  "These silly sayings and fancies are
+better forgot.  Who's the wiser for a thing like that?  Probably, when
+all's said, 'tis a lie.  I dare say the fire went out scores of times
+when Nathan was here, and somebody just lit it again and said nought
+about it."
+
+"That's wrong, Jack," declared Heathman Lintern, who was present.  "Mr.
+Baskerville took a lot of care of the fire and felt very proud of it.
+A score of times I've heard him tell people about it, and that the fire
+had never been douted for more than a hundred years."
+
+"One thing I know, that if there was such a place as hell, he'd soon
+meet with a fire as would last longer still," answered Head.  "A fire
+that never will be douted.  And right well he'd deserve it."
+
+Thomas Gollop found himself in agreement with this ferocity.
+
+"You're right there, and there is such a place--have no fear of that,
+though 'tis your way to scorn it.  For my part I say that there
+couldn't be no justice without it.  He devoured widows' houses and
+stole the bread of the poor--what worse can any man do?"
+
+"A man can backbite the dead, and spit out his poison against them as
+never hurt him in word or deed," answered Heathman Lintern.  "'Tis
+always your way to blackguard them that be out of earshot and the power
+to answer; and the further a man be away, the louder you yelp.  Faults
+or no faults, the likes of you wasn't worthy to wipe his shoes."
+
+"You Linterns--well, I'll say nought," began Jack Head; but the subject
+was too attractive for him and he proceeded.
+
+"If he left your mother any money, it's against the law, and you can
+tell her so.  It wasn't his to leave, and if she got money from him in
+secret, it's my money--not hers--mine, and many other people's before
+it's hers.  And if she was honest she'd give it back."
+
+"You've lost your wits over this," answered Lintern, "and if you wasn't
+an old man, Jack, I'd hammer your face for mentioning my mother's name
+in such a way.  She never had a penny by him, and the next man that
+says she did shall get a flea in his ear--old or young."
+
+"Let it be a lesson to all sorts and conditions not to trust a
+Dissenter," said Gollop.  "I've known pretty well what they're good for
+from the first moment they began to lift their heads in the land.  They
+never were to be trusted, and never will be.  And as for Nathan
+Baskerville, he was a double serpent, and I shall tell the truth out
+against him when and where I please; and why for not?"
+
+"You don't know the meaning of truth," began Heathman; "no more don't
+that old cat, your sister."
+
+"Better leave my sister alone, or 'twill be the worse for you,"
+answered the parish clerk.
+
+"I'll leave her alone when she leaves my mother alone, and not sooner.
+She a lying, foul-minded old baggage--not to be trusted in a
+respectable house--and if I was better to do, I'd have the law of her
+for the things she's said."
+
+"You talk of the law," answered Jack.  "You might just so well talk of
+the prophets.  One's as rotten as t'other nowadays.  The law's gone
+that weak that a man's savings can be taken out of his pocket by the
+first thief that comes along with an honest face; and him powerless.
+Five-and-thirty pound--that's what he had of mine, and the law looks on
+and does nought."
+
+"Because there's nought for it to do," suggested Mr. Elford.  "The law
+can't make bricks without straw----"
+
+"Just what it can do--when it's writing its own bills o' costs,"
+answered Jack.  "They'm damn clever at that; but let a rogue rob me of
+my savings and the law don't care a brass farthing.  Why?  Because I'm
+poor."
+
+"Is there to be nought declared in the pound?" inquired an old man
+beside the fire.  "He had eight, ten of mine, and I was hopeful us
+might get back a little, if 'twas only shillings."
+
+"You'll see nothing of it, gaffer," declared Head.  "There wasn't much
+more than enough to pay for the man's coffin.  And the tears shed at
+his grave!  I laugh when I think of all them gulls, and the parsons,
+with their long faces, thinking they was burying a good man and a
+burning light."
+
+"A burning light now, if he wasn't afore," said Gollop, returning to
+his favourite theme.
+
+"You're a mean cur at heart, Jack," burst out the dead man's son to Mr.
+Head.  "With all your noise about justice and liberty and right and
+wrong, none on God's earth can show his teeth quicker and snarl worse
+if his own bone be took away.  You knowed Nathan Baskerville--no one
+knowed him better than you.  And well you know that with all his faults
+and foolish, generous way of playing with his money and other
+people's--well, you know there was a big spirit in the man.  He meant
+terrible kindly always.  He didn't feather his own nest.  For a hundred
+that curse him now, there's thousands that have blessed him in past
+years.  But 'tis the curses come home to roost and foul a man's grave;
+the blessings be forgot."
+
+The young man's eyes shone and his eloquence silenced the bar for a
+moment.
+
+Jack Head stared.
+
+"'Tis Mark Baskerville speaking," he said.  "Even so he was used to
+talk!  But I didn't know you was the soft sort too, Heathman.  What was
+Nat to you, or you to Nat, that you can stand up for him and talk this
+nonsense in the face of facts?  Where's my money?  When you tell me
+that, I'll tell you----"
+
+"Who knows whether you'm forgot after all, Jack?" interrupted Joe
+Voysey.  "Everybody ban't ruined.  There's a few here and
+there--especially the awful poor people--as have had their money made
+good."
+
+"I know all about that," answered Head; "'tis that fool, the parson.
+Masterman have no more idea of justice than any other church minister,
+and he's just picked and chosen according to his own fancy, and made it
+up to this man and that man out of his own riches."
+
+"To no man has he made it up," corrected Gollop.  "'Tis only in the
+case of certain needy females that he've come forward.  A widow here
+and there have been paid back in full.  I made so bold as to ask Lawyer
+Popham about it; but he's not a very civil man, and he fobbed me off
+with a lawyer's answer that meant nought."
+
+"'Tis well knowed to be Masterman, however," said Voysey.
+
+"Yes; well knowed to us; but not to the general public.  Some think
+it's the lawyer himself; but that's a wild saying.  Last thing he'd do.
+He'll be out of pocket as it is."
+
+At this juncture was presented the unusual spectacle of a woman in the
+bar of 'The White Thorn,' and Susan Hacker entered.
+
+She was known to several present and men liked her.  She understood the
+sex, and could give as good as she got.  She expected little in the way
+of civility or sense from them, and she was seldom disappointed.
+
+"Hullo!" cried Head.  "Be you on the downward path then, Susan?  'Tis
+your old man driving you to drink without a doubt!"
+
+The abundant woman pushed Jack out of her way and came to the counter.
+
+"Don't you pay no heed to that there sauce-box," she said.  "And him
+old enough and ugly enough to know better, you'd think.  A drop of gin
+hot, please.  I be finger-cold and I've got to speed home yet."
+
+"How's 'the Hawk'?" asked Mr. Voysey.  "We all thought when poor old
+Nathan was took off that he'd come forward with his money bags--knowing
+the man, didn't we, souls?"
+
+This excellent jest awakened laughter till Susan stopped it.  She took
+her drink to the fire, loosed a mangy little fur tippet from her great
+shoulders and warmed her feet alternately.
+
+"A funny old fool you are, Joe--just funny enough to make other fools
+laugh.  And why should Humphrey Baskerville waste his money on a lot of
+silly people?  Which of you would come forward and help him if he was
+hard up?"
+
+"I would," said Jack Head.  "With my opinions I'd help any thrifty
+person let in by this dead man--if I could.  But I was let in myself.
+And you're in the truth to call us fools, for so we were."
+
+"It's reason, every way, that your master might think of his brother's
+good name and right the wrong done by the man who was here afore me,"
+declared Mr. Elford impartially.
+
+"Why?" asked Mrs. Hacker.  "Why do you say 'tis reason?  If 'tis reason
+for him, 'tis just as much reason for every other man who can afford to
+mend it."
+
+"That's what I say," argued Jack Head, but none agreed with him.
+
+"Ban't our business, but 'tis Humphrey Baskerville's," declared the
+publican.  "The dead man was his own brother and his only one.  For the
+credit of the family he ought to come forward, and not leave the parson
+and other outsiders to do it."
+
+"Because your brother does wrong, 'tis no business of yours to right
+the wrong," answered Mrs. Hacker.  "Besides, 'tis well known that
+charity begins at home."
+
+"And stops there," suggested Gollop.  "No doubt at Hawk House, you and
+him be as snug as beetles in the tree bark, while other people don't
+know where to turn for a roof to cover 'em."
+
+"They'd have poor speed if they was to turn to you, anyway," she said.
+"'Tis like your round-eyed, silly impudence to speak like that of a
+better man than ever you was or will be, or know how to be.  He ban't
+bound to tell you where he spends his money, I believe; and if you was
+half as good a man--but there, what can you expect from a Gollop but a
+grunt?  You'm a poor generation, you and your sister--God knows which
+is the worse."
+
+"Bravo, Susan!  Have another drop along o' me," cried Heathman Lintern,
+and she agreed to do so.
+
+"What do you know and what don't you know?" asked Head presently.  "Be
+your old party going to do anything or nothing?"
+
+"I don't know.  But this I do know, that all your wild tales down here
+about his money be silly lies.  We live hard enough, I can promise
+that, whatever you may think.  If every man here spent his money so
+wise as Humphrey Baskerville, you wouldn't all be boozing in this bar
+now, but along with your lawful wives and families, helping the poor
+women to find a bit of pleasure in life.  But I know you; you get a
+shipload of brats and leave their mothers to do all the horrid work of
+'em, while you come in here every night like lords, and soak and
+twaddle and waste your money and put the world right, then go home not
+fit company for a dog----"
+
+"Steady on--no preaching here--rule of the bar," said Mr. Voysey.  "You
+think we're all blanks because you drew a blank, Susan.  Yes, a blank
+you drew, though you might have had me in the early forties."
+
+"You!  I'd make a better man than you with a dozen pea-sticks,"
+retorted Susan.  "And I didn't draw a blank, I drawed Hacker, who'd be
+here now teaching you chaps to drink, if the Lord had spared him.  You
+can't even drink now--so feeble have you growed.  Hacker, with all his
+faults, was a fine man; and so's Humphrey Baskerville in his way."
+
+"Talk on; but talk to the purpose, Susan.  What have he done?  That's
+the question.  You ain't going to tell me he's done nought," suggested
+Mr. Head.
+
+"I ain't going to tell you nothing at all, because I don't know nothing
+at all.  He wouldn't ax me how to spend his money--nor you neither."
+
+"Tell us who he's helping--if anybody," persisted the man.  "How is it
+none haven't handed me back my money?  You can mention--if you've got
+the pluck to do it--that I want my bit back so well as t'others; and
+mine be quite as much to me as Ned Baskerville's thousands was to him."
+
+"Charity begins at home," repeated Susan, "and I'll lay you my hat,
+though the fog's took the feather out of curl, that if he does
+anything, 'twill be for his own first.  He's that sort, I believe."
+
+"They people at Cadworthy?"
+
+"Yes.  Not that I think he'll do aught; but if he does, 'twill be
+there.  Mrs. Baskerville be taking very unkindly to the thought of
+leaving.  She've lived here all her married life and brought all her
+childer there.  But she've got to go.  They're all off after Lady Day.
+Too much rent wanted by the new owner."
+
+"Same with us," said Heathman.  "These here men, who have got the
+places on their hands now, 'pear to think a Dartmoor farm's a gold
+mine.  Me and my mother clear out too."
+
+Mrs. Hacker drank again.
+
+"And after this glass, one of you chaps will have to see me up over,"
+she said.
+
+"We'll all come, if you'll promise another drink at t'other end,"
+declared Heathman; but Susan turned to Jack Head.
+
+"You'd best to come, Jack," she declared.
+
+He exhibited indifference, but she pressed him and he agreed.
+
+"If I've got a man to look after me, there's no hurry," she concluded.
+"I'm in for a wigging as 'tis."
+
+The easy soul stopped on until closing time, and then Mr. Head
+fulfilled his promise and walked homeward beside her through a foggy
+night.  She rested repeatedly while climbing the hill to the Moor, and
+she talked without ceasing.  Susan was exhilarated and loquacious as
+the result of too much to drink.  Head, however, bore with her and
+acquired a most startling and unexpected piece of information.
+
+He mentioned the attitude of Heathman Lintern and his fiery
+championship of the dead.
+
+"I thought he'd have come across and hit me down, because I told the
+naked truth about the man.  And he denied that his mother was the
+better by a penny when Nathan died.  But how about it when he was
+alive?"
+
+"Truth's truth," answered Susan.  "You might have knocked me down with
+a feather when--but there, what am I saying?"
+
+He smelt a secret and angled for it.
+
+"Of course, you're like one of the Baskerville family yourself, and
+I've no right to ask you things; only such a man as me with a credit
+for sense be different to the talking sort.  Truth's truth, as you say,
+and the truth will out.  But Eliza Gollop--of course she knows nothing.
+She couldn't keep a secret like you or me."
+
+Mrs. Hacker stood still again and breathed hard in the darkness.  Her
+tongue itched to tell a tremendous thing known to her; but her muddled
+senses fought against this impropriety.
+
+"Two can often keep a secret that pretty well busts one," said Mr. Head
+with craft.  He believed that Humphrey Baskerville was paying some of
+his brother's debts; and since this procedure might reach to him, he
+felt the keenest interest in it.  Mrs. Lintern did not concern him.  He
+had merely mentioned her.  But Priscilla was the subject which filled
+Susan's mind to the exclusion of all lesser things, and she throbbed to
+impart her knowledge.  No temptation to confide in another had forced
+itself upon her until the present; yet with wits loosened and honour
+fogged by drink, she now yearned to speak.  At any other moment such a
+desire must have been silenced, by reason of the confession of personal
+wrongdoing that it entailed.  Now, however, she did not remember that.
+She was only lusting to tell, and quite forgot how she had learned.
+Thus, while Head, to gain private ends, endeavoured to find whether Mr.
+Baskerville was paying his brother's debts, Susan supposed that his
+mind ran upon quite another matter: the relations between Priscilla
+Lintern and Humphrey's dead brother.
+
+Mrs. Hacker knew the truth.  She had acquired it in the crudest manner,
+by listening at the door during an interview between Nathan's mistress
+and her master.  This tremendous information had burnt her soul to
+misery ever since; but a thousand reasons for keeping the secret
+existed.  Her own good name was involved as much as another's.  She
+could not whisper a word for her credit's sake; and a cause that
+weighed far heavier with her was the credit of Eliza Gollop.
+
+Eliza had guessed darkly at what Susan now knew; but as a result of her
+subterranean hints, Eliza had suffered in the public esteem, for few
+believed her.
+
+To confirm Eliza and ratify her implications was quite the last thing
+that Mrs. Hacker would have desired to do; and yet such was the magic
+sleight of alcohol to masquerade in the shape of reason, justice, and
+right--such also its potency to conceal danger--that now this muddled
+woman fell.  She was intelligent enough to make Jack promise on Bible
+oaths that he would keep her secret; and then she told him the last
+thing that he expected to hear.
+
+With acute interest he waited to know Humphrey's future intentions
+respecting his brother's creditors; instead he listened to widely
+different facts.
+
+"I'll tell you if you'll swear by the Book to keep it to yourself.
+I'll be the better for telling it.  'Tis too large a thing for one
+woman--there--all that gin--I know 'tis that have loosed my tongue even
+while I'm speaking.  And yet, why not?  You're honest.  I'm sure I
+can't tell what I ought to do.  You might say 'twas no business of
+mine, and I don't wish one of 'em any harm--not for the wide world do
+I."
+
+"I'll swear to keep quiet enough, my dear woman.  And 'tis your sense,
+not your thimble of liquor, makes you want to talk to me.  If not me,
+who?  I'm the sort that knows how to keep a secret, like the grave
+knows how to keep its dead.  I'm a friend to you and Mr. Baskerville
+both--his greatest friend, you might say."
+
+"In a word, 'tis natural that young Lintern--you swear, Jack--on your
+Bible you swear that you won't squeak?"[1]
+
+
+[1] _Squeak_--break silence.
+
+
+"I ain't got one; but I'll swear on yours.  You can trust me."
+
+"'Twas natural as Lintern got vexed down there then, and you was lucky
+not to feel the weight of his fist.  For why--for why?  He's Nathan's
+son!  Gospel truth.  They'm all his: Cora, t'other girl, and Heathman.
+The mother of 'em told my master in so many words; and I heard her tell
+him.  I was just going into the room, but stopped at the door for some
+reason, and, before I could get out of earshot, I'd catched it.  There!"
+
+"Say you was eavesdropping and have done with it," said Mr. Head.  He
+took this startling news very quietly, and advised Susan to do the like.
+
+"The less you think about it, the better.  What's done be done.  We
+don't know none of the rights of it, and I'm not the sort to blame
+anybody--woman or man--for their private actions.  'Tis only Nathan's
+public actions I jumped on him for, and if Heathman was twice his son,
+I'd not fear to speak if 'twas a matter of justice."
+
+"I didn't ought to have told you, but my mind's a sieve if there's a
+drop of gin in my stomach.  I had to let it go to-night.  If I hadn't
+told you what I knowed, so like as not I'd have told Mr. Baskerville
+hisself when I got back; and then 'twould have comed out that I'd
+listened at the door--for I did, God forgive me."
+
+Susan became lachrymose, but Jack renewed his promises and left her
+tolerably collected.  The confession had eased her mind, calmed its
+excitement, and silenced her tongue also.
+
+Jack tried to learn more of the thing that interested him personally,
+but upon that subject she knew nothing.  She believed the general
+report: that Mr. Masterman, by secret understanding with the lawyer,
+was relieving the poorest of Nathan's creditors; and she inclined to
+the opinion that her master had no hand in this philanthropy.
+
+They parted at the garden wicket of Susan's home, and Mr. Head left her
+there; but not before she had made him swear again with all solemnity
+to keep the secret.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+As Humphrey Baskerville had pointed out to his nephew Ned, disaster
+usually hits the weak harder than the strong, and the lazy man suffers
+more at sudden reverses than his neighbour, who can earn a living, come
+what trouble may.
+
+Rupert and his wife were prepared to seek a new home, and Milly, at the
+bottom of her heart, suffered less from these tribulations than any of
+her husband's relations.  The blow had robbed him of nothing, since he
+possessed nothing.  To work to win Cadworthy was no longer possible,
+but he might do as well and save money as steadily elsewhere; and the
+change in their lives for Milly meant something worth having.  In her
+heart was a secret wish that her coming child might be born in her own
+home.  As for her husband he now waited his time, and did not
+immediately seek work, because Humphrey Baskerville directed delay.
+His reason was not given, nor would he commit himself to any promise;
+but he offered the advice, and Rupert took it.
+
+Mrs. Baskerville's grief at leaving her home proved excessive.  She
+belonged to the easy sort of people who are glad to trust their affairs
+in any capable control, and she suffered now at this sudden
+catastrophe, even as Ned suffered.  She had very little money, and was
+constrained to look to her sons for sustenance.  It was proposed that
+she and May should find a cottage at Shaugh; but to display her poverty
+daily before eyes that had seen her prosperity was not good to her.
+She found it hard to decide, and finally hoped to continue life in a
+more distant hamlet.  All was still in abeyance, and the spring had
+come.  Until Ned's future theatre of toil was certain, his mother would
+not settle anything.  She trusted that he might win a respectable post,
+but employment did not offer.  Hester's youngest son Humphrey had been
+provided for by a friend, and he was now working with Saul Luscombe at
+Trowlesworthy.
+
+Then came a date within six weeks of the family's departure.  The
+packing was advanced, and still nothing had been quite determined.  Ned
+was anxious and troubled; Rupert waited for his uncle to speak.  He
+knew of good work at Cornwood, and it was decided that his mother and
+May should also move to a cottage in that churchtown, unless Ned
+achieved any sort of work within the next few weeks.  Then his plans
+might help to determine their own.
+
+At this juncture, unexpectedly on a March evening, came their kinsman
+from Hawk House, and Rupert met him at the outer gate.
+
+"Is your mother here?" asked the rider, and when he heard that the
+family was within--save Ned, who stayed at Tavistock on his quest--he
+dismounted and came among them.
+
+A litter and disorder marked the house.  There were packing-cases in
+every room; but less than a moiety of Hester's goods would leave her
+home.  She must dwell in a small cottage henceforth, and her furniture,
+with much of her china and other precious things, was presently
+destined to be sold.  The period of her greatest grief had long passed;
+she had faced the future with resignation for many months, and returned
+to her usual placidity.  She and her daughter could even plan their
+little possessions in a new cottage, and smile together again.  They
+had fitted their minds to the changed condition; they had calculated
+the probable result of the sale, and Mrs. Baskerville, thrown by these
+large reverses from her former easy and tranquil optimism, had fallen
+upon the opposite extreme.
+
+She now looked for no amelioration of the future, foresaw no
+possibility of adequate work for Ned, and was as dumb as a wounded
+horse or cow, even at the tragical suggestion of her son's enlistment.
+This he had openly discussed, but finding that none exhibited any
+horror before the possibility, soon dropped it again.
+
+To these people came Mr. Baskerville--small, grey, saturnine.  His eyes
+were causing him some trouble, and their rims were grown red.  They
+thought in secret that he had never looked uglier, and he declared
+openly that he had seldom felt worse.
+
+"'Tis the season of the year that always troubles me," he said.  "Gout,
+gravel, rheumatism, lumbagy--all at me together.  Nature is a usurer,
+Hester, as you may live to find out yet, for all you keep so healthy.
+She bankrupts three parts of the men you meet, long afore they pay back
+the pinch of dust they have borrowed from her.  The rate of interest on
+life runs too high, and that's a fact, even though you be as thrifty of
+your powers as you please, and a miser of your vital parts, as I have
+always been."
+
+"Your eyes are inflamed seemingly," said his sister-in-law.  "Vivian's
+went the same once, but doctor soon cured 'em."
+
+They sat in the kitchen and he spoke to May.
+
+"If you'll hurry tea and brew me a strong cup, I'll thank you.  I feel
+just as if 'twould do me a deal of good."
+
+She obeyed at once, and Humphrey, exhibiting a most unusual garrulity
+and egotism, continued to discuss himself.
+
+"For all my carcase be under the weather, my mind is pretty clear for
+me.  Things be going well, I'm glad to say, and you might almost think
+I----  However, no matter for that.  Perhaps it ban't the minute to
+expect you to take pleasure at any other's prosperity.  There's nothing
+like health, after all.  You'll find yourself more peaceful now,
+Hester, now you know the worst of it?"
+
+"Peaceful enough," she said.  "I don't blame myself, and 'tis vain to
+blame the dead.  Master trusted his brother Nathan, like you trust
+spring to bring the leaves.  Therefore it was right and proper that I
+should do the same.  'Twas all put in his hands when Vivian died.  Even
+if I would have, I wasn't allowed to do anything.  But, of course, I
+trusted Nathan too.  Who didn't?"
+
+"I didn't, never--Rupert will bear me out in that.  I never trusted
+him, though I envied the whole-hearted respect and regard the world
+paid him.  We envy in another what's denied to ourselves--even faults
+sometimes.  Yet I'm pretty cheerful here and there--for me.  Have you
+heard any more said about his death and my hand in it?"
+
+"A lot," answered Mrs. Baskerville.  "And most understanding creatures
+have quite come round to seeing your side.  Only a man here and there
+holds out that you were wrong."
+
+"I may tell you that the reverend Masterman couldn't find no argument
+against it.  He came to see me not long since.  He wouldn't be kept to
+the case in point, but argued against the principle at large.  When I
+pinned him to Nathan at last, he said, though reluctantly, that he
+believed he would have done no less for his own brother.  That's a
+pretty good one to me--eh?"
+
+"My Uncle Luscombe thinks you did the proper thing," declared Milly.
+
+Presently May called them to the table and handed Humphrey his tea.
+
+He thanked her.
+
+"No sugar," he said, "and you ought not to take none neither, May.
+Trouble haven't made you grow no narrower at the waist seemingly."
+
+The girl tried to smile, and her family stared.  Jocosity in this man
+was an exhibition almost unparalleled.  If he ever laughed it was
+bitterly against the order of things; yet now he jested genially.  The
+result was somewhat painful, and none concealed an emotion of
+discomfort and restraint.
+
+The old man perceived their surprise and returned into himself a little.
+
+"You'll wonder how I come to talk so much about my own affairs,
+perhaps?  'Tisn't often that I do, I believe.  Well, let's drop 'em and
+come to yours.  Have you found work, Rupert?"
+
+"I can, when you give the word.  There's Martin at Cornwood wants me,
+and mother can come there.  We've seen two houses, either of which
+would suit her and May very well.  One, near the church, she likes
+best.  There's a cottage that will fit me and Milly not far off."
+
+"Why go and have an expensive move when you can live at Shaugh Prior?"
+
+"I've got my feelings," answered the widow rather warmly.  "You can't
+expect me to go there."
+
+Mr. Baskerville asked another question.
+
+"So much for you all, then.  And what of Ned?"
+
+"At Tavistock, wearing out his shoe-leather trying to find work."
+
+"If he's only wearing out shoe-leather, no harm's done."
+
+"He told us what you offered last year, and I'm sure 'twas over and
+above what many men would have done," declared Ned's mother.
+
+"I was safe to offer it," he answered.  "'Tis only to say I'll double
+nought.  He's not worth a box of matches a week to any man."
+
+"They very near took him on at the riding-school when he offered to go
+there."
+
+"But not quite."
+
+"And that gave him the idea to 'list in the horse soldiers.  He knows
+all about it, along of being in the yeomanry."
+
+"To enlist?  Well, soldiering's man's work by all accounts, though I
+hold 'tis devil's work myself--just the last mischief Satan finds for
+idle hands to do."
+
+"It would knock sense into Ned, all the same," argued Rupert.  "The
+discipline of it would be good for him, and he might rise."
+
+"But he's not done it, you say?"
+
+"No," answered Mrs. Baskerville.  "He's not done it.  I've suffered so
+much, for my part, that when he broke the dreadful thing upon me, I
+hadn't a tear left to shed.  And the calm way I took it rather
+disappointed him, poor fellow.  He had a right to expect to see me and
+May, if not Rupert, terrible stricken at such a thought; but we've been
+through such a lot a'ready that we couldn't for the life of us take on
+about it.  I'm sure we both cried rivers--cried ourselves dry, you
+might say--when Cora Lintern threw him over; but that was the last
+straw.  Anything more happening leaves us dazed and stupid, like a
+sheep as watches another sheep being killed.  We can't suffer no more."
+
+"Even when Ned went out rather vexed because we took it so calm, and
+said he'd end his life, we didn't do anything--did we, mother?" asked
+May.
+
+"No," answered Hester.  "We was past doing or caring then--even for
+Ned.  Besides, he's offered to make a hole in the water so terrible
+often, poor dear fellow.  'Twas a case where I felt the Lord would look
+after His own.  Ned may do some useful thing in the world yet.  He's
+been very brave over this business--brave as a lion.  'Tis nought to
+me.  I'm old, and shan't be here much longer.  But for him and May
+'twas a terrible come-along-of-it."
+
+"Ned's a zany, and ever will be," declared Humphrey.  "Rupert, here, is
+different, and never was afraid of work.  Fortune didn't fall to him,
+and yet 'twas his good fortune to have to face bad fortune, if you
+understand that.  Money, till you have learned the use of it, be a gun
+in a fool's hand; and success in any shape's the same.  If it comes
+afore you know the value and power of it, 'tis a curse and a danger.
+It makes you look awry at life, and carry yourself too proud, and
+cometh to harm and bitterness.  I know, none so well."
+
+They did not answer.  Then May rose and began to collect the tea things.
+
+Humphrey looked round the dismantled room, and his eyes rested on the
+naked mantelshelf.
+
+"Where are all the joanies?"[1] he asked.  "You used to have two big
+china figures up there."
+
+
+[1] _Joanies_--ornaments of glass or china.
+
+
+"Some are packed, and some will go into the sale.  They two you mean
+are worth money, I'm told," explained Mrs. Baskerville.
+
+Then the visitor said a thing that much astonished her.
+
+"'Twill give you trouble now," he remarked, "but 'twill save trouble in
+the end.  Let me see them put back again."
+
+Milly looked at May in wonder.  To argue the matter was her first
+thought; but May acted.
+
+"They be only in the next room, with other things to be sold," she
+said.  "You can see them again, uncle, if you mind to."
+
+Rupert spoke while she was from the room.
+
+"Why don't you buy 'em, uncle?  They'd look fine at your place."
+
+"Put 'em back on the shelf," answered Mr. Baskerville.  "And, what's
+more, you may, or may not, be glad to know they can stop there.  'Tis a
+matter of no account at all, and I won't have no talk about it, but you
+can feel yourself free to stay, Hester, if you'd rather not make a
+change at your time of life.  You must settle it with Rupert and your
+darter.  In a word, I've had a tell with the owner of the farm and he's
+agreeable."
+
+"I know he's agreeable," answered Humphrey's nephew, "but I'm not
+agreeable to his rent."
+
+"If you'd keep your mouth shut till you'd heard me, 'twould be better.
+I was going to say that Mr. Westcott of Cann Quarries, who foreclosed
+on the mortgage of this place when your uncle died--Mr. Westcott is
+agreeable to let me have Cadworthy; and, in a word, Cadworthy's mine."
+
+May came in at this moment with the old china figures.  She entered a
+profound silence, and returned the puppets to their old places on the
+mantelpiece.  It seemed that this act carried with it support and
+confirmation of the startling thing that Hester Baskerville had just
+heard.
+
+Humphrey spoke again.
+
+"Past candle-teening, and snow offering from the north.  I must be
+gone.  Fetch up my pony, Rupert, and then you can travel a bit of the
+way back along with me."
+
+His nephew was glad to be gone.  A highly emotional spirit began to
+charge the air.  Hester had spoken to May, and her daughter, grown
+white and round-eyed, was trying to speak.
+
+"You mean--you mean we can all stop, and Rupert can go on here?" she
+said at last.
+
+"If he thinks it good enough.  He'd bought back a bit of the place
+a'ready, as he thought, from Ned.  I can go into all that with him.
+And for you women--well, you're used to the rounds of Cadworthy, and
+I'm used to your being here.  You've done nought but trust a weak man.
+I don't want all the blue[2] to be off the plum for you yet.  But I
+waited till now, because you'll see, looking back, that you'll be none
+the worse for smarting a few months.  I've smarted all my life, and I'm
+not very much the worse, I suppose.  So now I'll be gone, and you can
+unpack when you please."
+
+
+[2] _Blue_--bloom.
+
+
+They could not instantly grasp this great reversal of fortune.
+
+"Be you sure?" asked his niece.  "Oh, uncle, be you sure?"
+
+"Sure and sure, and double sure.  A very good investment, with a man
+like your brother Rupert to work it for me.  But let him see the rent's
+paid on the nail."
+
+He rose, and Mrs. Baskerville tried to rise also, but her legs refused
+to carry her.
+
+"Get my salts," she said to Milly; then she spoke to her brother-in-law.
+
+"I'm a bit dashed at such news," she began.  "It have made my bones go
+to a jelly.  'Tis almost too much at my age.  The old can't stand joy
+like the young; they'm better tuned to face trouble.  But to stop
+here--to stop here--'tis like coming back after I'd thought I was gone.
+I can't believe 'tis true.  My God, I'd said 'good-bye' to it all.  The
+worst was over."
+
+"No, it wasn't," answered Humphrey.  "You think 'twas; but I know
+better.  The worst would have come the day the cart waited, and you got
+up and drove off.  Now cheer yourself and drink a drop of spirits.  And
+don't expect Rupert home till late.  I'll take him back with me to
+supper."
+
+He offered his hand, and the woman kissed it.  Whereupon he uttered a
+sound of irritation, looked wildly at her, and glared at his fingers as
+though there had been blood upon them instead of tears.  Milly stopped
+with Mrs. Baskerville; May went to the door with her uncle and helped
+him into his coat.
+
+"I can't say nothing," she whispered.  "It won't bear talking
+about--only--only----  If you knew how I loved mother----"
+
+"Be quiet," he answered.  "Don't you play the fool too.  I let you fret
+to get your fat down a bit--that was the main reason, I do believe; and
+now you'll only get stouter than ever, of course.  Go back to her, and
+let's have no nonsense; and, mind, when I come over again, that my
+house is tidy.  I never see such a jakes of a mess as you've got it in."
+
+He went out and met Rupert at the gate.
+
+"You'd best to come back with me," he said.  "I've told them you'll sup
+at Hawk House.  'Twill give 'em time to calm down.  It takes nought to
+fluster a woman."
+
+"'Nought'!  You call this 'nought'!"
+
+Rupert helped Mr. Baskerville on to his pony and walked beside him.  It
+was now nearly dark, and a few flakes of snow already fell.
+
+"Winter have waited for March," said Humphrey; "and I waited for March.
+You might ask why for I let 'em have all this trouble.  'Twas done for
+their good.  They'll rate what they've got all the higher now that it
+had slipped from them; and so will you."
+
+Rupert said nothing.
+
+"Yes," repeated his uncle; "winter waited for the new year, and so did
+I.  And now 'tis for you to say whether you'll stop at my farm or no."
+
+"Of course, I'll stop."
+
+"No silly promises, mind.  This is business.  You needn't be thanking
+me; and in justice we've got to think of that fool, your elder brother.
+But be it as it will, 'tis Hester's home for her time."
+
+"I'll stop so long as my mother lives."
+
+"And a bit after, I hope, if you don't want to quarrel with me.  But I
+shall be dead myself, come to think of it.  What shall I forget next?
+So much for that.  We'll go into figures after supper."
+
+"I know you don't want no thanks nor nothing of that sort," said
+Rupert; "but you know me pretty well, and you know what I feel upon it.
+'Tis a masterpiece of goodness in you to do such a thing."
+
+"Say no more.  I've killed two birds with one stone, as my crafty
+manner is.  That's all.  'Tis a very good farm, and I've got it cheap;
+and I've got you cheap--thanks to your mother.  I benefit most--my
+usual way in business."
+
+They passed along, and the snow silenced the footfall of horse and man.
+Near Hawk House came the sudden elfin cry of a screech-owl from the
+darkness of the woods.
+
+"Hush!" said Humphrey, drawing up.  "List to that.  I'm glad we heard
+it.  A keeper down along boasted to me a week ago that he'd shot every
+owl for a mile round; but there's a brave bird there yet, looking round
+for his supper."
+
+The owl cried again.
+
+"'Tis a sound I'm very much addicted to," explained Mr. Baskerville.
+"And likewise I'm glad to hear the noise of they kris-hawks sporting,
+and the bark of a fox.  They be brave things that know no fear, and go
+cheerful through a world of enemies.  I respect 'em."
+
+"You never kill a snake, 'tis said."
+
+"Not I--I never kill nought.  A snake's to be pitied, not killed.
+He'll meddle with none as don't meddle with him.  I've watched 'em
+scores an' scores o' times.  They be only humble worms that go upon
+their bellies dirt low, but they gaze upward for ever with their
+wonnerful eyes.  Belike Satan looked thus when they flinged him out of
+heaven."
+
+"You beat me," said Rupert.  "You can always find excuses for varmints,
+never for men."
+
+His uncle grunted.
+
+"Most men are varmints," he answered.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+The effect of his financial tribulation on Jack Head was not good.
+Whatever might have been of Humphrey Baskerville's theories as to the
+value worldly misfortune and the tonic property of bad luck upon
+character, in this man's case the disappearance of his savings deranged
+his usual common-sense, and indicated that his rational outlook was not
+based upon sure foundations.  From the trumpery standpoint of his
+personal welfare, it seemed, after all, that he appraised life; and
+upon his loss a native acerbity and intolerance increased.  He grew
+morose, his quality of humour failed him, and his mind, deprived of
+this cathartic and salutary sense, grew stagnant.  At his best Jack was
+never famed for a delicate choice of time or place when pushing his
+opinions.  Propriety in this connection he took pleasure in
+disregarding.  He flouted convention, and loved best to burst his
+bombshells where they were most certain to horrify and anger.
+Following the manner of foolish propagandists, he seldom selected the
+psychological moment for his onslaughts; nor did he perceive that half
+the battle in these cases may depend upon nice choice of opportunity.
+
+There came an evening, some time after he had learnt the secret of the
+Lintern family, when Head, returning to Shaugh Prior, fell in with
+Cora, who walked upon the same road.  He had never liked her, and now
+remembered certain aggressive remarks recently cast at him by her
+brother.  The man was going slower than the woman, and had not meant to
+take any notice of her, but the somewhat supercilious nod she gave him
+touched his spleen, and he quickened his pace and went along beside her.
+
+"Hold on," he said, "I'll have a tell with you.  'Tisn't often you hear
+sense, I believe."
+
+Cora, for once in a mood wholly seraphic over private affairs, showed
+patience.
+
+"I'm in a bit of a hurry, but I've always got time to hear sense," she
+said.
+
+Thus unexpectedly met, Mr. Head found himself with nothing to say.  One
+familiar complaint at that time running against Cora for the moment he
+forgot.  Therefore he fell back upon her brother.
+
+"You might tell Heathman I was a good bit crossed at the way he spoke
+to me two nights agone.  I've as much right to my opinion as him, and
+if I say that the late Nathan Baskerville was no better than he should
+be, and not the straight, God-fearing man he made us think--well, I'm
+only saying what everybody knows."
+
+"That's true," she said.  "Certainly a good many people know that."
+
+"Exactly so.  Then why for does he jump down my throat as if I was
+backbiting the dead?  Truth's truth, and it ban't a crime to tell the
+truth about a man after he's dead, any more than it be while he's
+alive."
+
+"More it is.  Very often you don't know the truth till a man's dead.
+My brother's a bit soft.  All the same, you must speak of people as you
+find them.  And Heathman had no quarrel with Mr. Baskerville, though
+most sensible people had seemingly.  He was a tricky man, and nobody
+can pretend he was honest or straight.  He's left a deal of misery
+behind him."
+
+The relationship between Cora and Nathan Baskerville suddenly flashed
+into Jack's memory.  Her remark told him another fact: he judged from
+it that she could not be aware of the truth.  It seemed improbable that
+Cora could utter such a sentiment if she knew that she spoke of her
+father.  Then he remembered how Heathman certainly knew the truth, and
+he assumed that Cora must also know it.  She was, therefore, revealing
+her true thoughts, secure in the belief that, since her companion would
+be ignorant of the relationship between her and the dead, she need
+pretend to no conventional regard before him.  At another time Jack
+Head might have approved her frankness, but to-day he designed to
+quarrel, and chose to be angered at this unfilial spirit.  Upon that
+subject his mouth was sealed, but there returned to him the
+recollection of her last achievement.  He reminded her of it and rated
+her bitterly.
+
+"Very well for you to talk of dishonest men and crooked dealings," he
+retorted.  "You, that don't know the meaning of a straight deed--you
+that flung over one chap and made him hang himself, and now have flung
+over another.  You may flounce and flirt and walk quick, but I'll walk
+quick too, and I tell you you're no better than a giglet
+wench--heartless, greedy, good for nought.  You chuck Ned Baskerville
+after keeping him on the hooks for years.  And why?  Because he came
+down in the world with a run, and you knew that you'd have to work if
+you took him, and couldn't wear fine feathers and ape the beastly
+people who drive about in carriages."
+
+Her lips tightened and she flashed at him.
+
+"You stupid fool!" she said.  "You, of all others, to blame me--you,
+who were never tired of bawling out what a worthless thing the man was.
+You ought to be the first to say he's properly punished, and the first
+to say I'm doing the right thing; and so you would, but just because
+you've lost a few dirty pounds, you go yelping and snarling at
+everybody.  You're so mighty clever that perhaps you'll tell me why I
+should marry a pauper, who can't find work far or near, because he's
+never learnt how to work.  Why must I keep in with a man like that, and
+get children for him, and kill myself for him, and go on the parish at
+the end?  You're so fond of putting everybody right, perhaps you'll put
+me right."
+
+The other was not prepared for this vigorous counter-attack.
+
+"Very well for you to storm," he said; "but you only do it to hide your
+own cowardly nature.  You pretended you was in love with him, and took
+his gifts, and made him think you meant to marry him, and stick up for
+him for better, for worse; but far from it.  You was only in love with
+his cash, and hadn't got no use for the man.  I'm not saying you would
+do well to marry him for the minute; but to chuck him when he's
+down----"
+
+"You're a one-sided idiot--like most other men," she answered.  "'Tis
+so easy for you frosty creatures, with no more feeling than a frog, to
+talk about 'love' and 'waiting.'  There, you make a sane woman wild!
+Waiting, waiting--and what becomes of me while I'm waiting?  I'm a
+lovely woman, you old fool, don't you understand what that means?
+Waiting--waiting--and will time wait?  Look at the crows'-feet coming.
+Look at the line betwixt my eyebrows and the lines from my nose, each
+side, to the corners of my mouth.  Will they wait?  No, curse 'em, they
+get deeper and deeper, and no rubbing will rub 'em out, and no waiting
+will make them lighter.  So easy to bleat about 'faithfulness' and
+'patience' if you're ugly as a gorilla and flat as a pancake.  I'm
+lovely, and I'm a pauper, and I've got nought but loveliness to stand
+between me and a rotten life and a rotten death in the workhouse.  So
+there it is.  Don't preach no more of your cant to me, for I won't have
+it."
+
+She was furious; the good things in her mind had slipped for the moment
+away.  While uttering this tirade she stood still, and Mr. Head did the
+like.  He saw her argument perfectly well.  He perceived that she had
+reason on her side, but her impatience and scorn angered him.  Her main
+position he could not shake, but he turned upon a minor issue and made
+feeble retort.
+
+His answer failed dismally in every way.  Of its smallness and weakness
+she took instant advantage; and, further, it reminded her of the
+satisfactory event that Mr. Head had for the moment banished from her
+mind.
+
+"Hard words won't make the case better for you," he began.  "And to be
+well-looking outside is nought if you're damned ugly inside; and that's
+what you be; and that's what everybody very well knows by now."
+
+She sneered at him.
+
+"Parson's talk--and poor at that.  If you want to snuffle that sort of
+trash you'd better ask Mr. Masterman to teach you how.  You, of all
+folk--so wise and such a book-reader!  What's the good of telling that
+to me?  'Tis the outside we see, and the outside we judge by; and, for
+the rest, you'll do well to mind your own business, and not presume to
+lecture your betters."
+
+"Very grand!  Very high and mighty, to be sure.  That's how you talked
+to Humphrey Baskerville, I suppose, and got a flea in your ear for your
+pains.  And I'll give you another.  'Tis the inside that matters, and
+not the out, though your empty mind thinks different.  And mark this:
+you'll go begging now till you're an old woman; and 'twon't be long
+before you'll have your age dashed in your face by every female you
+anger.  Yes, you'll go begging now--none will have you--none will take
+you with your record behind you.  An old maid you'll be, and an old
+maid you'll deserve to be.  You just chew the end of that."
+
+"What a beast you are!" she retorted.  "What a low-minded, cowardly
+creature to strike a woman so.  But you spoke too soon as usual.  The
+likes of you to dare to say that!  You, that don't know so much about
+women as you do about rabbits!"
+
+"I know enough about men, anyhow, and I know no man will ever look at
+you again."
+
+"Liar!  A man asked me to marry him months ago!  But little did I think
+you'd be the first to know it when we decided that it should be known.
+He asked, and he was a man worth calling one, and I took him, so you
+may just swallow your own lies again and choke yourself with 'em.
+You're terrible fond of saying everybody's a fool--well, 'twill take
+you all your time to find a bigger one than yourself after to-day.  And
+don't you never speak to me again, because I won't have it.  Like your
+cheek--a common labouring man!--ever to have spoke to me at all.  And
+if you do again, I'll tell Mr. Timothy Waite to put his whip round your
+shoulders, so now then!"
+
+"Him!"
+
+"Yes, 'him'; and now you can go further off, and keep further off in
+future."
+
+She hastened forward to carry her news to other ears, and Jack Head
+stood still until she was out of sight.  He felt exceedingly angry, but
+his anger swiftly diminished, and he even found it possible to laugh at
+himself before he reached Shaugh Prior.  He knew right well that he
+must look a fool, but the knowledge did not increase his liking for
+Cora Lintern.  He reflected on what he had heard, and saw her making
+fun of him in many quarters.  He even debated a revenge, but no way
+offered.  Once he speculated as to what her betrothed would say if he
+knew the truth of Cora's paternity; but, to do him justice, not the
+faintest thought of revealing the secret tempted Jack.
+
+"Leave it, and she'll most likely wreck herself with him," he thought.
+"Waite's a sharp chap, and not easily hoodwinked.  So like as not, when
+he's seen a bit of her mean soul he'll think twice while there's time."
+
+Mr. Head began to reflect again upon his own affairs, and, finding
+himself at the vicarage gate, went in and asked for Dennis Masterman.
+The rumour persisted, and even grew, that Dennis was paying back
+certain losses incurred at Nathan Baskerville's death among the poorest
+of the community.  The fact had wounded Mr. Head's sense of justice,
+and he was determined to throw some light on Masterman's foggy
+philanthropy.  The vicar happened to be in, and soon Mr. Head appeared
+before him.  Their interview lasted exactly five minutes, and Jack was
+in the street again.  He explained his theory at some length, and gave
+it as his opinion that to pick and choose the cases was not defensible.
+He then explained his own loss, and invited Mr. Masterman to say
+whether a more deserving and unfortunate man might be found within the
+quarters of the parish.  The clergyman listened patiently and answered
+with brevity.
+
+"I hear some of the people are being helped, but personally the donor
+is not known to me.  I have nothing to do with it.  He, or
+she--probably a lady, for they do that sort of thing oftenest--is not
+responsible to anybody; but, as far as I have heard, a very good choice
+has been made among the worst sufferers.  As to your case, Jack, it
+isn't such a very hard one.  You are strong and hale still, and you've
+got nobody to think of but yourself.  We know, at any rate, that Mr.
+Nathan Baskerville did a lot of good with other people's money.  Isn't
+that what you Socialists are all wanting to do?  But I dare say this
+misfortune has modified your views a little here and there.  I've never
+yet met a man with fifty pounds in the bank who was what I call a
+Socialist.  Good-evening to you, Jack."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+Alice Masterman, the vicar's sister, came in to speak with Dennis after
+Jack Head had gone.  He was composing a sermon, but set it aside at
+once, for the tone of her voice declared that she could brook no denial.
+
+"It's Voysey," she said.  "I'm sorry to trouble you about him again,
+but he's got bronchitis."
+
+"Well, send him some soup or something.  Has that last dozen of parish
+port all gone yet?"
+
+"I was thinking of another side to it," she confessed.  "Don't you
+think this might be an excellent opportunity to get rid of him?"
+
+"Isn't that rather hitting a man when he's down?"
+
+"Well, it's perfectly certain you'll never hit him when he's up again.
+If you only realised how the man robs us--indirectly, I mean.  He
+doesn't actually steal, I suppose, but look at the seed and the
+thousand and one things he's always wanting in the garden, and nothing
+to show but weeds."
+
+"You must be fair, Alice.  There are miles of large, fat cabbages out
+there."
+
+"Cabbages, yes; and when I almost go down on my knees for one, he says
+they're not ready and mustn't be touched.  He caught the cook getting a
+sprig of parsley yesterday, and was most insolent.  She says that if he
+opens his mouth to her again she'll give warning; and she means it.
+And even you know that cooks are a thousand times harder to get than
+gardeners."
+
+Dennis sighed and looked at his manuscript.
+
+"Funny you should say these things--I'm preaching about the fruits of
+the earth next Sunday."
+
+"The man's maddening--always ready with an excuse.  The garden must be
+swarming with every blight and horror that was ever known, according to
+him.  And somehow I always feel he's being impertinent all the time
+he's speaking to me, though there's nothing you can catch hold of.  Now
+it's mice, and now it's birds, and now it's canker in the air, or some
+nonsense; and now it's the east wind, and now it's the west wind--I'm
+sick of it; and if you ask for an onion he reminds you, with quite an
+injured air, that he took three into the house last week.  There's a
+wretched cauliflower we had ages ago, and he's always talking about it
+still, as if it had been a pineapple at least."
+
+"I know he's tiresome.  I tell you what--wait till he's back, and then
+I'll give him a serious talking to."
+
+"Only two days ago I met him lumbering up with that ridiculous basket
+he always will carry--a huge thing, large enough to hold a sack of
+potatoes.  And in the bottom were three ridiculous little lettuces from
+the frame, about as long as your thumb.  I remonstrated, and, of
+course, he was ready.  'I know to a leaf what his reverence eats,' he
+said; 'and if that woman in the kitchen, miscalled a cook, don't serve
+'em up proper, that's not my fault.'  He didn't seem to think I ever
+ate anything out of the garden."
+
+"Old scoundrel!  I'll talk to him severely.  I've had a rod in pickle
+ever since last year."
+
+Dennis laughed suddenly, but his sister was in no laughing mood.
+
+"I really can't see the funny side," she declared.
+
+"Of course not.  There is none.  He's a fraud; but I remembered what
+Travers said last year--you recollect?  The thrips and bug and all
+sorts of things got into the vines, and we asked Travers what was the
+matter, and he explained what a shameful muddle Voysey had made.  Then,
+when Joe had gone chattering off, saying the grapes were worth five
+shillings a pound in open market, and that they'd only lost their bloom
+because we kept fingering them, Travers said he looked as if he was
+infested with thrips and mealy bug himself.  I shall always laugh when
+I think of that--it was so jolly true."
+
+"I hate a man who never owns that he is wrong; and I do wish you'd get
+rid of him.  It's only fair to me.  I have but few pleasures, and the
+garden is one of them.  He tramples and tears, and if you venture to
+ask him to tidy--well, you know what happens.  The next morning the
+garden looks as though there had been a plague of locusts in
+it--everything has gone."
+
+"He ought to retire; but he's saved nothing worth mentioning, poor old
+fool!"
+
+"That's his affair."
+
+"It ought to be; but you know well enough that improvidence all round
+is my affair.  We are faced with it everywhere.  Head has just been in
+here.  There's a rumour about the poor people that the innkeeper
+swindled.  He took their savings, and there's nobody to pay them back
+now he's gone.  But it seems that here and there those hit
+hardest--mostly women--have had their money again.  Not your work, I
+hope, Alice?  But I know what you do with your cash.  Voysey was
+talking about it a little time ago, and I blamed him for not having
+saved some money himself by this time.  He said, 'Better spend what you
+earn on yourself than give it to somebody else to save for you.'  The
+misfortunes of the people seemed to have pleased him a good deal.
+'We'm mostly in the same box now,' he said; 'but I had the rare sense
+to spend my brass myself.  I've had the value of it in beer and
+tobacco, if no other way.'"
+
+"Detestable old man!  And Gollop's no better.  Anybody but you would
+have got rid of them both years and years ago."
+
+"They must retire soon--they simply must.  They're the two eldest men
+in the parish."
+
+"And, of course, you'll pension them, or some such nonsense."
+
+"Indeed, I shall do no such thing.  Perhaps this is the end of Voysey.
+He may see the sense of retiring now."
+
+"Not he.  He'll be ill for six weeks, and lie very snug and comfortable
+drawing his money at home; then, when the weather gets to suit him,
+he'll crawl out again.  And everything that goes wrong all through next
+year will be owing to his having been laid by."
+
+"I'll talk to him," repeated her brother.  "I'll talk to him and Gollop
+together.  Gollop has pretty well exhausted my patience, I assure you."
+
+Miss Masterman left him with little hope, and he resumed his sermon on
+the fruits of the earth.
+
+But next Sunday the unexpected happened, and Thomas Gollop, even in the
+clergyman's opinion, exceeded the bounds of decency by a scandalous
+omission.
+
+It happened thus.  The sexton, going his rounds before morning service,
+was confronted with an unfamiliar object in the churchyard.  A
+tombstone had sprung up above the dust of Nathan Baskerville.  He
+rubbed his eyes with astonishment, because the time for a memorial was
+not yet, and Thomas must first have heard of it and made ready before
+its erection.  Here, however, stood what appeared to be a square slate,
+similar in design to those about it; but investigation proved that an
+imitation stone had been set up, and upon the boards, painted to
+resemble slate, was inscribed a ribald obituary notice of the dead.  It
+scoffed at his pretensions, stated the worst that could be said against
+him, and concluded with a scurrility in verse that consigned him to the
+devil.
+
+Now, by virtue of his office, apart from the fact of being a
+responsible man enlisted on the side of all that was seemly and
+decorous, Mr. Gollop should have removed this offence as quickly as
+possible before any eye could mark it.  Thus he would have disappointed
+those of the baser sort who had placed it there by night, and arrested
+an outrage before any harm was done by it.  But, instead, he studied
+the inscription with the liveliest interest, and found himself much in
+sympathy therewith.
+
+Here was the world's frank opinion on Nathan Baskerville.  The
+innkeeper deserved such a censure, and Thomas saw no particular reason
+why he should interfere.  He was alone, and none had observed him.
+Therefore he shuffled off and, rather than fetch his spade and barrow
+to dig up this calumny and remove it, left the board for others to
+discover.
+
+This they did before the bells began to ring, and when Dennis Masterman
+entered the churchyard, on his way to the vestry, he was arrested by
+the sight of a considerable crowd collected about the Baskerville
+graves.  The people were trampling over the mounds, and standing up on
+the monuments to get a better view.  On the outskirt of the gathering
+was Ben North in a state of great excitement; but single-handed the
+policeman found himself unable to cope with the crowd.  A violent
+quarrel was proceeding at the centre of this human ring, and Masterman
+heard Gollop's voice and that of Heathman Lintern.  Dennis ordered some
+yelling choir-boys down off a flat tomb, then pushed his way through
+his congregation.  Parties had been divided as to the propriety of the
+new monument, and the scene rather resembled that in the past, when
+Nathan Baskerville was buried.
+
+As the vicar arrived, Heathman Lintern, who had lost his self-control,
+was just knocking Mr. Gollop backwards into the arms of his sister.
+The man and woman fell together, and, with cries and hisses, others
+turned on Heathman.  Then a force rallied to the rescue.  Sunday hats
+were hurled off and trampled into the grass; Sunday coats were torn;
+Sunday collars were fouled.  Not until half a dozen men, still
+fighting, had been thrust out of the churchyard, was Dennis able to
+learn the truth.  Then he examined the cause of the riot and listened
+to Lintern.
+
+The young man was bloody and breathless, but he gasped out his tale.  A
+dozen people were already inspecting the new gravestone when Heathman
+passed the church on his way to chapel with his mother and sisters.  He
+left them to see the cause of interest, and, discovering it, ordered
+Gollop instantly to remove it.  This the sexton declined to do on the
+ground that it was Sunday.  Thereupon, fetching tools, Heathman himself
+prepared to dig up the monument.  But he was prevented.  Many of the
+people approved of the joke and decreed that the board must stand.
+They arrested Heathman in his efforts to remove it.  Then others took
+his side and endeavoured to drag down the monument.
+
+Having heard both Lintern and Gollop, the clergyman read the mock
+inscription.
+
+"D'you mean to say that you refuse to remove this outrageous thing?" he
+asked the sexton; but Thomas was in no mood for further reprimand.  He
+had suffered a good deal in credit and temper.  Now he mopped a
+bleeding nose and was insolent.
+
+"Yes, I do; and I won't break the Fourth Commandment for you or fifty
+parsons.  Who the mischief be you to tell me to labour on the Lord's
+Day, I should like to know?  You'll bid me covet my neighbour's ass and
+take my neighbour's wife next, perhaps?  And, when all's said, this
+writing be true and a lesson to the parish.  Let 'em have the truth for
+once, though it do turn their tender stomachs."
+
+"Get out of the churchyard, you old blackguard!" cried Heathman.
+"You're a disgrace to any persuasion, and you did ought to be hounded
+out of a decent village."
+
+"Leave Gollop to me, Lintern.  Now lend a hand here, a few of you; get
+this infamous thing away and destroyed before anybody else sees it.
+And the rest go into church at once.  Put on your surplices quick, you
+boys; and you, Jenkins, tell Miss Masterman to play another voluntary."
+
+Dennis issued his orders and then helped to dig up this outrage among
+the tombs.  Thomas Gollop and his sister departed together.  Ben North,
+Lintern, and another assisted Mr. Masterman.
+
+Then came Humphrey Baskerville upon his way to church, and, despite the
+entreaty of the young clergyman that he would not read the thing set up
+over Nathan's grave, insisted on doing so.
+
+"I hear in the street there's been a row about a tombstone to my
+brother.  Who put it there?  'Tis too soon by half.  I shall lift a
+stone to the man when the proper time comes," he said.
+
+"It isn't a stone, it's an unseemly insult--an outrage.  Not the work
+of Shaugh men, I hope.  I shall investigate the thing to the bottom,"
+answered Dennis.
+
+"Let me see.  Stay your hand, Lintern."
+
+The old man put on his glasses deliberately, and read the evil words.
+
+"Tear it down," he said.  "That ban't all the truth about the man, and
+half the truth is none.  Quick, away with it!  There's my sister-in-law
+from Cadworthy coming into the gate."
+
+The burlesque tombstone was hurried away, and Masterman went into the
+vestry.  Others entered church, and Heathman at last found himself
+alone.  The bells stopped, the organ ceased to grunt, and the service
+proceeded; but young Lintern was only concerned with his own labours.
+He ransacked Mr. Gollop's tool-shed adjoining the vestry.  It was
+locked, but he broke it open, and, finding a hatchet there, proceeded
+to make splinters of the offending inscription.  He chopped and chopped
+until his usual equitable humour returned to him.  Then, the work
+completed, he returned to his father's grave and repaired the broken
+mound.  He was engaged upon this task to the murmur of the psalms, when
+Jack Head approached and bade him 'good-morning.'
+
+"A pretty up-store, I hear.  And you in the midst of it--eh?"
+
+"I was, and I'd do the same for any chap that did such a beastly thing.
+If I thought you had any hand in it, Jack----"
+
+The other remembered that the son of the dead was speaking to him.
+
+"Not me," he answered.  "I have a pretty big grudge against Nathan
+Baskerville that was, and I won't deny it; but this here--insults on
+his tomb--'tis no better than to kick the dead.  Besides, what's the
+use?  It won't right the wrong, or put my money back in my pocket.  How
+did it go--the words, I mean?"
+
+"I've forgot 'em," answered Heathman.  "Least said, soonest mended, and
+if it don't do one thing, and that is get Gollop the sack, I shall be a
+bit astonished."
+
+He laughed.
+
+"You should 'a' seen the old monkey just now!  He was the first to mark
+this job, and he let it stand for all to see, and was glad they should
+see it--shame to him."
+
+"Wrote it himself so like as not."
+
+"Hadn't the wit to.  But he left it, and he was well pleased at it.
+And then, when I ordered him as sexton to take it down, he wouldn't,
+and so I lost my head and gave him a tap on the ribs, and over he went
+into his sister's arms, as was standing screeching like a poll-parrot
+just behind him.  Both dropped; then Tom Sparkes hit me in the mouth;
+and so we went on very lively till Mr. Masterman came."
+
+"Wouldn't have missed it for money," said Jack.  "But just my luck to
+be t'other side the village at such a moment."
+
+He sat down on a sepulchre and filled his pipe.  He knew well why
+Heathman had thrown himself so fiercely into this quarrel, and he
+admired him for it.  The sight of the young man reminded him of his
+sister.
+
+"So your Cora is trying a third, she tells me?"
+
+"Yes; 'tis Tim Waite this time," answered Cora's brother.  "I shouldn't
+envy him much--or any man who had to live his life along with her."
+
+"You're right there: no heart--that's what was left out when she was
+a-making.  She told me the news a bit ago, just when I was giving her a
+rap over the knuckles on account of that other fool, Ned Baskerville.
+And she got the best of the argument--I'll allow that.  In fact, you
+might say she scored off me proper, for I told her that no decent chap
+would ever look at her again, and what does she answer?  Why, that Tim
+Waite's took her."
+
+"Yes, 'tis so.  He and me was talking a bit ago.  He'll rule her."
+
+"But I got it back on Cora," continued Mr. Head.  "I'm not the sort to
+be beat in argument and forget it.  Not I!  I'll wait, if need be, for
+a month of Sundays afore I make my answer; but I always laugh last, and
+none don't ever get the whip-hand of me for long.  And last week I
+caught up with her again, as we was travelling by the same road, and I
+gave her hell's delights, and told her the ugly truth about herself
+till she could have strangled me if she'd been strong enough."
+
+"I know you did.  She came home in a pretty tantara--blue with temper;
+and she's going to tell Waite about it.  But don't you sing small,
+Jack; don't you let Timothy bully you."
+
+"No man bullies me," said Head; "least and last of all a young man.
+Waite have too much sense, I should hope, to fall foul of me.  But if
+it comes to that, I can give him better than he'll give me--a long
+sight better, too."
+
+"The Cadworthy people have been a bit off us since Cora dropped Ned,"
+declared Heathman.  "No wonder, neither, but my mother's cruel galled
+about it.  'Twasn't her fault, however.  Still, that's how it lies."
+
+Mr. Head was examining this situation when the people began to come out
+of church.
+
+He rose, therefore, and went his way, while Heathman also departed.
+Many returned to the outraged grave, but all was restored to order, and
+nothing remained to see.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+Jack Head presently carried his notorious grievances to Humphrey
+Baskerville, and waited upon him one evening in summer time.  They had
+not met for many weeks, and Jack, though he found little leisure to
+mark the ways of other people at this season, could not fail to note a
+certain unwonted cheerfulness in the master of Hawk House.  Humphrey's
+saturnine spirit was at rest for the moment.  To-night he talked upon a
+personal topic, and found evident pleasure in a circumstance which,
+from the standpoint of his visitor, appeared exceedingly trivial.  The
+usual relations of these men seemed changed, and Mr. Baskerville showed
+the more reasonable and contented mind, while Jack displayed an active
+distrust of everything and everybody.
+
+"I wanted a bit of a tell with you," he began, "and thought I might
+come over."
+
+"Come in and welcome," answered Humphrey.  "I hope I see you pretty
+middling?"
+
+"Yes, well enough for that matter.  And you?"
+
+"Never better.  'Tis wonnerful how the rheumatics be holding off--along
+of lemons.  You might stare, but 'tis a flame-new remedy of doctor's.
+Lemon juice--pints of it."
+
+"Should have reckoned there was enough lemon in your nature without
+adding to it."
+
+"Enough and to spare.  Yet you needn't rub that home to-day.  I've
+heard a thing that's very much pleased me, I may tell you.  Last news
+such a cranky and uncomfortable man as me might have expected."
+
+"Wish I could hear summat that would please me, I'm sure," said Jack.
+"But all that ever I hear of nowadays is other people's good luck.  And
+there's nothing more damned uninteresting after a bit.  Not that I
+grudge t'others----"
+
+"Of course you don't--not with your high opinions.  You've said to me a
+score of times that there's no justice in the world, therefore 'tis no
+use your fretting about not getting any.  We must take things as we
+find them."
+
+"And what's your luck, then?  More money rolling in, I suppose?"
+
+"My luck--so to call it--mightn't look over large to another.  'Tis
+that my nephew Rupert and his wife want for me to be godfather to their
+babe.  The child will be called after me, and I'm to stand godfather;
+and I'll confess to you, in secret, that I'm a good deal pleased about
+it."
+
+Jack sniffed and spat into the fire.  He took a pipe out of his pocket,
+stuffed it, and lighted it before he answered.
+
+"I was going to say that little things please little minds, but I
+won't," he began.  "If you can find pleasure in such a trifle--well,
+you'm fortunate.  I should have reckoned with all the misery there is
+in the world around you, that there'd be more pain than pleasure in----"
+
+He broke off.
+
+"'Tis the thought," explained Mr. Baskerville.  "It shows that they
+young people feel towards me a proper and respectful feeling.  It shows
+that they'd trust me to be a godparent to this newborn child.  I know
+very well that folk are often asked just for the sake of a silver
+spoon, or a christening mug; but my nephew Rupert and his wife Milly be
+very different to that.  There's no truckling in them.  They've thought
+this out, and reckoned I'm the right man--old as I am.  And naturally I
+feel well satisfied about it."
+
+"Let that be, then.  If you're pleased, their object be gained, for
+naturally they want to please you.  Why not?  You must die sooner or
+later, though nobody's better content than me to hear you'm doing so
+clever just at present.  But go you must, and then there's your mighty
+fortune got to be left to something or somebody."
+
+"Mighty's not the word, Jack."
+
+"Ban't it?  Then a little bird tells the people a lot of lies.  And,
+talking of cash, I'm here over that matter myself."
+
+But Humphrey was not interested in cash for the moment.
+
+"They sent me a very well-written letter on the subject," he continued.
+"On the subject of the child.  'Twas more respectful to me and less
+familiar to put it in writing--so they thought.  And I've written back
+a long letter, and you shall hear just how I wrote, if you please.
+There's things in my letter I'd rather like you to hear."
+
+Mr. Head showed impatience, and the other was swift to mark it.
+
+"Another time, if 'tis all the same to you," Jack replied.  "Let me get
+off what's on my chest first.  Then I'll be a better listener.  I
+ha'n't got much use for second-hand wisdom for the moment."
+
+Mr. Baskerville had already picked up his letter; but now he flung the
+pages back upon his desk and his manner changed.
+
+"Speak," he said.  "You learn me a lesson.  Ban't often I'm wrapped up
+in my own affairs, I believe.  I beg your pardon, Head."
+
+"No need to do that.  Only, seen from my point, with all my misfortunes
+and troubles on my mind, this here twopenny-halfpenny business of
+naming a newborn babby looks very small.  You can't picture it, no
+doubt--you with your riches and your money breeding like rabbits.  But
+for a man such as me, to see the sweat of his brow swept away all at a
+stroke--nought else looks of much account."
+
+"Haven't you got over that yet?"
+
+"No, I haven't; and more wouldn't you, if somebody had hit you so hard."
+
+"Say your say then, if 'twill do you any sort of good."
+
+"What I want to know is this.  Why for do Lawyer Popham help one man
+and not help t'other?  Why do this person--I dare say you know who
+'tis--do what he's doing and pick and choose according to his fancy?
+It isn't Masterman or I'd have gived him a bit of my mind about it.
+And if I could find out who it was, I would do so."
+
+"The grievance is that you don't get your bit back?  Are you the only
+one?"
+
+"No, I'm not.  There's a lot more going begging the same way.  And if
+you know the man, you can tell him from me that he may think he'm doing
+a very fine thing, but in my opinion he isn't."
+
+Mr. Baskerville had relapsed into his old mood.
+
+"So much for your sense, then--you that pride yourself such a lot on
+being the only sane man among us.  Have you ever looked into the
+figures?"
+
+"I've looked into my own figures, and they be all I care about."
+
+"Exactly so!  But them that want to right this wrong have looked into
+all the figures; and so they know a great deal more about 'em than you
+do.  You're not everybody.  You're a hale, hearty creature getting good
+wages.  More than one man that put away money with my brother is dead
+long ago, and there are women and children to be thought upon; and a
+bedridden widow, and two twin boys, both weak in the head; and a few
+other such items.  Why for shouldn't there be picking and choosing?  If
+you'd been going to lend a hand yourself and do a bit for charity,
+wouldn't you pick and choose?  Ban't all life picking and choosing?
+Women and childer first is the rule in any shipwreck, I believe--afloat
+or ashore.  And if you was such a born fool as to trust, because others
+trusted, and follow the rest, like a sheep follows his neighbour sheep,
+then I should reckon you deserve to whistle for your money.  If this
+chap, who was fond of my brother and be set on clearing his name, will
+listen to me, you and the likes of you will have to wait a good few
+years yet for your bit--if you ever get it at all.  You ought to know
+better--you as would shoulder in afore the weak!  And now you can go.
+I don't want to see you no more, till you've got into a larger frame of
+mind."
+
+"What a cur-dog you be!" said Head, rising and scowling fiercely.  "So
+much for Christian charity and doing to your neighbour as you would
+have him do to you--so much for all your cant about righteousness.  You
+wait--that's all!  Your turn will come to smart some day.  And if I
+find out this precious fool, who's got money to squander, I'll talk a
+bit of sense to him too.  He's no right to do things by halves, and one
+man's claim on that scamp, your brother, is just as lawful and proper
+as another man's; and because a person be poor or not poor don't make
+any difference in the matter of right and wrong."
+
+"That's where you're so blind as any other thick-headed beetle,"
+snarled back Humphrey.  "For my part I've looked into the figures
+myself, and I quite agree with Nathan's friend.  None has a shadow of
+reason to question him or to ask for a penny from him.  'Tis his
+bounty, not your right."
+
+"Very easy to talk like that.  Why don't you put your fingers in your
+own pocket and lend a hand yourself?  Not you--a sneaking old
+curmudgeon!  And then want people to think well of you.  Why the devil
+should they?  Close-fisted mully-grubs that you are!  And hark to this,
+Miser Baskerville, don't you pretend your nephew wants you to stand
+gossip for his bleating baby to pleasure you.  'Tis because he's got
+his weather-eye lifting on your dross.  Who's like to care for you for
+yourself?  Not a dog.  Your face be enough to turn milk sour and give
+the childer fits."
+
+"Get along with you," answered Humphrey.  "You--of all men!  I could
+never have believed this--never.  And all for thirty-five pounds,
+fifteen and sevenpence!  So much for your wisdom and reason.  Be off
+and get down on your knees, if they'll bend, and ask God to forgive
+you."
+
+Head snorted and swore.  Then he picked up his hat and departed in a
+towering rage.
+
+Mr. Baskerville's anger lasted a shorter time.  He walked to the
+window, threw it open, listened to Head's explosive departure and then,
+when silence was restored, Humphrey himself went to his doorstep and
+looked out upon the fair June night.
+
+Mars and a moon nearly full sailed south together through unclouded
+skies, and beneath them lay, first, a low horizon, whose contour,
+smoothed by night's hand into dim darkness, showed neither point nor
+peak under the stars.  Beneath all, valley-born, there shone silver
+radiance of mist--dense and luminous in the moonlight.  Apparently
+quiescent, this vapour in truth drifted with ghostly proper motion
+before the night wind, and stole from the water-meadows upward toward
+the high places of the Moor.
+
+Against these shifting passages of fog, laid along the skirts of forest
+and above the murmuring ways of a hidden river, ascended silhouettes of
+trees, all black and still against the pearly light behind them.  The
+vapour spread in wreaths and filaments of moisture intermingled.  Seen
+afar it was still as standing water; but to one moving beside it, the
+mist appeared as on a trembling loom where moonlight wove in ebony and
+silver.  The fabric broke, ravelled, fell asunder, and then built
+itself up once more.  Again it dislimned and shivered into separate
+shades that seemed to live.  From staple of streams, from the cold
+heart of a nightly river were the shadows born; and they writhed and
+worshipped--poor, heart-stricken spirits of the dew--love-mad for
+Selene on high.  Only when red Mars descended and the moon went down,
+did these forlorn phantoms of vapour shrink and shudder and lie closer,
+for comfort, to the water mother that bore them.
+
+Hither, nigh midnight, in a frame of mind much out of tune with the
+nocturnal peace, passed Jack Head upon his homeward way.  His loss had
+now become a sort of mental obsession, and he found it daily wax into a
+mightier outrage on humanity.  He would have suffered in silence, but
+for the aggravation of these events whereby, from time to time, one or
+another of the wounded found his ill fortune healed.
+
+Examination might have showed an impartial mind that much method
+distinguished the process of this alleviation.
+
+Those responsible for it clearly possessed close knowledge of the
+circumstances; and they used it to minister in turn to the chief
+sufferers.  The widows and fatherless were first indemnified; then
+others who least could sustain their losses.
+
+A sane system marked the procedure; but not in the eyes of Mr. Head.
+First, he disputed the right of any philanthropist to select and single
+out in such a matter, and next, when defeated in argument on that
+contention, he fell back upon his own disaster and endeavoured to show
+how his misfortune was among the hardest and most ill-deserved.
+
+That man after man should be compensated and himself ignored, roused
+Jack to a pitch of the liveliest indignation.  He became a nuisance,
+and people fled from him and his inevitable topic of speech.  And now
+he had heard Humphrey Baskerville upon the subject, and found him as
+indifferent as the rest of the world.
+
+The old man's argument still revolved in Jack's head and, too late,
+came answers to it.  He moved along in the very extremity of rage, and
+Humphrey might have smarted to hear the things that his former friend
+thought against him.  Then, as ill chance willed, another came through
+the night and spoke to Head.
+
+Timothy Waite went happily upon his homeward way and found himself in a
+mood as sweet as Jack's was the reverse.  For Timothy was love-making,
+and his lady's ripe experience enabled her to give him many pleasant
+hours of this amusement.
+
+Neither was sentimental, but Cora, accustomed to the ways and fancies
+of the courting male, affected a certain amount of femininity, and
+Timothy appreciated this, and told himself that his future wife
+possessed a woman's charms combined with a man's practical sense.  He
+was immensely elated at the thing he had done, and he felt gratified to
+find that Miss Lintern made a most favourable impression amid his
+friends and relations.
+
+Now, moved thereto by his own cheerful heart, he gave Jack Head 'good
+night' in a friendly tone of voice and added, "A beautiful evening,
+sure enough."
+
+The way was overshadowed by trees and neither man recognised the other
+until Waite spoke.  Then Mr. Head, feeling himself within the
+atmosphere of a happy being, grunted a churlish answer and made himself
+known.
+
+Thereon Timothy's manner changed and he regretted his amenity.
+
+"Is that Head?" he asked in an altered tone.
+
+"You know my voice, I suppose."
+
+"Yes, I do.  I want to speak to you.  And I have meant to for some time
+past.  But the chance didn't offer, as you don't go to church, or any
+respectable place; and I don't frequent publics."
+
+The other bristled instantly.
+
+"What the hell's the matter with you?" he shouted.
+
+"Nothing's the matter with me.  But there's a lot the matter with you
+by all accounts, and since you can't keep a civil tongue in your head,
+it's time your betters took you in hand a bit."
+
+Jack stared speechless at this blunt attack.  The moon whitened his
+face, his lean jaw dropped and his teeth glimmered.
+
+"Well, I'm damned!  'My betters'--eh?"
+
+"Yes; no need for any silly pretence with me.  You know what I think of
+your blackguard opinions and all that rot about equality and the rest.
+I'm not here to preach to you; but I am here to tell you to behave
+yourself where ladies are concerned.  Miss Lintern has told me what you
+said to her, and she complained sharply about it.  You may think it was
+very clever; but I'd have you to know it was very impertinent, coming
+from you to her.  Why, if I'd been by, I'd have horsewhipped you.  And
+if it happens again, I will.  You're a lot too familiar with people,
+and seem to think you've a right to talk to everybody and anybody in a
+free and easy way--from parson downwards.  But let me tell you, you
+forget yourself.  I'd not have said these things if you'd been rude to
+any less person than the young lady I'm going to marry.  But that I
+won't stand, and I order you not to speak to Miss Lintern again.  Learn
+manners--that's what you've got to do."
+
+Having uttered this admonition, Mr. Waite was proceeding but Jack
+stopped him.
+
+"I listened to you very patient," he said.  "Now you've got to listen
+to me, and listen you shall.  Why, God stiffen it, you bumbling fool!
+who d'you think you are, and who d'you think any man is?  You be china
+to my cloam, I suppose?  And who was your grandfather?  Come now, speak
+up; who was he?"
+
+"I'm not going to argue--I've told you what I wish you to do.  It
+doesn't matter who my grandfather was.  You know who I am, and that's
+enough."
+
+"It is enough," said Jack; "it's enough to make a toad laugh; but I
+don't laugh--no laughing matter to me to be told by a vain, puffed-up
+booby, like you, that I'm not good enough to have speech with people.
+And that tousled bitch--there--and coming on what I've just heard!  If
+it don't make me sick with human nature and all the breed!"
+
+"Be sick with yourself," answered Timothy.  "I don't want to be too
+hard on an uneducated and self-sufficient man; but when it comes to
+insulting women, somebody must intervene."
+
+By way of answer the older man turned, walked swiftly to Waite and
+struck him on the breast.  The blow was a hard one and served its
+purpose.  Timothy hit back and Head closed.
+
+"You blackguard anarchist," shouted the farmer.  "You will have it,
+will you?  Then take it!"
+
+Jack found himself no match for a strong and angry man full twenty-five
+years his junior, and he reaped a very unpleasant harvest of blows, for
+the master of Coldstone carried an ash sapling and when he had thrown
+Mr. Head to the ground he put his foot on him and flogged him heartily
+without heeding where his strokes might fall.  Head yelled and cursed
+and tried to reach the other's legs and bring him down.  A column of
+dust rose into the moonlight and Timothy's breath panted steaming upon
+the air.  Then, with a last cruel cut across the defeated labourer's
+shoulders, he released him and went his way.  But Head was soon up
+again and, with a bleeding face, a torn hand and a dusty jacket, he
+followed his enemy.
+
+Rage is shrewd of inspiration.  He remembered the one blow that he
+could deal this man; and he struck it, hoping that it might sink far
+deeper than the smarting surface-wounds that now made his own body ache.
+
+"Devil--coward--garotter!" he screamed out.  "You that hit old men in
+the dark--listen to me!"
+
+Waite stopped.
+
+"If you want any more, you can have it," he answered.  "But don't go
+telling lies around the country and saying I did anything you didn't
+well deserve.  You struck me first, and if you are mad enough to strike
+your betters, then you'll find they will strike back."
+
+"I'll strike--yes, I'll strike--don't fear that.  I'll strike--a harder
+blow than your evil hand knows how.  I'll strike with truth--and that's
+a weapon goes deeper than your bully's stick.  Hear me, and hear a bit
+about your young lady--'young lady'!  A woman without a father--a child
+got--ax her mother where and how--and then go to blazing hell--you and
+your nameless female both.  I know--I know--and I'll tell you if you
+want to know.  She's Nathan Baskerville's bastard--that's what your
+'young lady' is!  There's gall for yours.  There's stroke for stroke!
+And see which of us smarts longest now!"
+
+Jack took his bruises homeward and the other, dazed at such a storm,
+also went his way.  He scoffed at such malice and put this evil thing
+behind him.  He hastened forward, as one hastens from sudden incidence
+of a foul smell.
+
+But the wounded man had sped a poison more pestilential far than any
+born of physical cause.  The germ thus despatched grew while Waite
+slept; and with morning light its dimensions were increased.
+
+Under the moon, he had laughed at this furious assault, and scorned it
+as the vile imagining of a beaten creature; but with daylight he
+laughed no longer.  The barb was fast; other rumours set floating after
+the innkeeper's death now hurtled like lesser arrows into his bosom;
+and Mr. Waite felt that until a drastic operation was performed and
+these wounds cleansed, his peace of mind would not return.
+
+He debated between the propriety of speaking to Cora about her father,
+or to Mrs. Lintern on the subject of her husband; and he decided that
+the latter course would be more proper.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+Susan Hacker and her master sat together in the kitchen.  He had
+lighted his pipe; she was clearing away the remains of a somewhat
+scanty meal, and she was grumbling loudly as she did so.
+
+"Leave it," he cried at length, "or I won't show you the christening
+mug for Milly's baby.  It have come from Plymouth, and a rare, fine,
+glittering thing it is."
+
+"I won't leave it," she answered.  "You can't see the end of this, but
+I can.  People know you've got plenty of money, but they don't know the
+way you're fooling it about, and presently, when you go and get ill,
+and your bones begin to stick through your skin, 'tis I shall be
+blamed."
+
+"Not a bit of it.  They all think I'm a miser, don't they?  Let 'em go
+on thinking it.  'Tis the way of a miser's bones to stick out through
+his skin.  Everybody knows that I live cheap from choice and always
+have.  I hate the time given to eating and drinking."
+
+"You've always lived like a labouring man," she admitted.  "But of
+late, here and there, people be more friendly towards you, because you
+let your folk bide at Cadworthy; and I'm sick and tired of hearing
+Hester Baskerville tell me you don't eat enough, and Rupert and Milly
+too.  Then there's that Gollop woman and a few other females have said
+things against me about the way I run this house.  And 'tis bad to
+suffer it, for the Lord knows I've got enough on my mind without their
+lies."
+
+"Get 'em off your mind, then," he answered.  "You're a changed woman of
+late, and I'll tell you what's done it.  I only found out myself a bit
+ago and said nought; but now I will speak.  I've wondered these many
+weeks what had come over you, and three days since I discovered.  And
+who was it, d'you think, told me?"
+
+Her guilty heart thumped at Susan's ribs.
+
+"Not Jack Head?" she asked.
+
+"Jack?  No.  What does he know about you?  Jack's another changed
+creature.  He was pretty good company once, but his losses have soured
+him.  'Twasn't Jack.  'Twas the reverend Masterman.  You've signed the
+pledge, I hear."
+
+"He'd no business to tell," declared Susan.  "Yes, I have signed it.
+I'm a wicked woman, and never another drop shall pass my lips."
+
+"'Tis that that's made you cranky, all the same," he declared.  "You
+was accustomed to your tipple and you miss it.  However, I'm the last
+to say you did wrong in signing.  When your organs get used to going
+without, you'll find yourself better company again.  And don't worry
+about the table I keep.  I live low from choice, not need.  It suits me
+to starve a bit.  I'm the better and cheerfuller for it."
+
+But then she took up the analysis and explained to him whence his good
+health and spirits had sprung.
+
+"Ban't that at all.  'Tis what you be doing have got into your blood.
+I know--I know.  You've hid it from all of 'em, but you haven't hid it
+from me.  I don't clean up all the rubbish you make and sift your
+waste-paper basket for nought.  I itch to let it out!  But God forgive
+me, I've let out enough in my time."
+
+He turned on her angrily; then fearlessly she met his frown and he
+subsided.
+
+"You're a dangerous, prying woman," he said, "and you ought to be
+ashamed of yourself."
+
+"I'm all that," she admitted; "and shame isn't the word.  I'm ashamed
+enough, and more than ashamed."
+
+"If you let out a breath of my little games, I'll pack you off into the
+street that very day, Susan."
+
+She sat down by the fire and took her knitting off the peat box where
+it was usually to be found.
+
+"You needn't fear me," she answered.  "I've had my lesson.  If ever I
+tell again what I should not, you may kick me into the gutter."
+
+He mused over the thoughts that she had awakened.
+
+"I know a mazing deal more about the weaknesses of my brother Nathan
+now than ever I did while the man was in life," he began.  "He was
+always giving--always giving, whether he had it to give or whether he
+hadn't.  I'm not defending him, but I know what it felt like a bit now.
+Giving be like drink: it grows on a man the same as liquor does.
+Nathan ought to have taken the pledge against giving.  And yet 'tis
+just another example of how the Bible word never errs.  On the face of
+it you'd think 'twas better fun to receive than to give.  But that
+isn't so.  Once break down the natural inclination, shared by the dog
+with his bone, to stick to what you've got--once make yourself hand
+over a bit to somebody else--and you'll find a wonderful interest arise
+out of it."
+
+"Some might.  Some would break their hearts if they had to fork out
+like you've been doing of late."
+
+"They be the real misers.  To them their stuff is more than food and
+life and the welfare of the nation.  And even them, if we could tear
+their gold away from them, might thank us after they'd got over the
+operation, and found themselves better instead of worse without it."
+
+"All that's too deep for me," she answered.  "The thing that's most
+difficult to me be this: How do you get any good out of helping these
+poor folk all underhand and unknown?  Surely if a man or woman does
+good to others, he's a right to the only payment the poor can make him.
+And that's gratitude.  Why won't you out with it and let them thank
+you?"
+
+"You're wrong," he said.  "I've lived too many years in the world to
+want that.  I'm a fool here and there, Susan; but I'm not the sort of
+fool that asks from men and women what's harder to give than any other
+thing.  To put a fellow-creature under an obligation is to have a faith
+in human nature that I never have had, and never shall have.  No, I
+don't want that payment; I'm getting better value for my money than
+that."
+
+"So long as you're satisfied----"
+
+Silence followed and each pursued a private line of thought.  Humphrey
+puffed his pipe; Susan knitted, and her wooden needles tapped and
+rattled a regular tune.  She was wondering whether the confession that
+she desired to make might be uttered at this auspicious moment.  Her
+conscience tortured her; and it was the weight of a great misery on her
+mind, not the fact of giving up liquor, that had of late soured her
+temper.  She had nearly strung herself to tell him of her sins when he,
+from the depths of his being, spoke again.  But he was scarcely
+conscious of a listener.
+
+"To think that a man like me--so dark and distrustful--to think that
+even such a man--I, that thought my heart was cracked for ever when my
+son died--I, that said to myself 'no more, no more can any earthly
+thing fret you now.'  And yet all the time, like a withered
+pippin--brown, dry as dust--there was that within that only wanted
+something--some heat to the pulp of me--to plump me out again.  To
+think that the like of me must have some other thing to--to cherish and
+foster!  To think my shrivelled heart-strings could ever stretch and
+seek for aught to twine around again!  Who'd believe it of such a man
+as me?  God A'mighty!  I didn't believe it of myself!"
+
+"But I knowed it," said Susan.  "You always went hunger-starved for
+people to think a bit kindly of you; you always fretted when decent
+folk didn't like you."
+
+"Not that--not that now.  I wanted their good-will; but I've found
+something a lot higher than that.  To see a poor soul happy is better
+far than to see 'em grateful.  What does that matter?  To mark their
+downward eye uplifted again; to note their fear for the future gone; to
+see hope creep back to 'em; to watch 'em walk cheerful and work
+cheerful; to know they laugh in their going once more; that they lie
+themselves down with a sigh of happiness and not of grief--ban't all
+that grander than their gratitude?  Gratitude must fade sooner or late,
+for the largest-hearted can't feel it for ever, try as he may.
+Benefits forgot are dust and ashes to the giver--if he remembers.  But
+none can take from me the good I've won from others' good; and none can
+make that memory dim."
+
+"'Tis a fairy story," murmured Mrs. Hacker.
+
+"No," he said, "'tis a little child's story--the thing they learn at a
+mother's knees; and because I was a growed-up man, I missed it.  'Tis a
+riddle a generous child could have guessed in a minute; but it took one
+stiff-necked fool from his adult days into old age afore he did."
+
+Susan's mind moved to her purpose, and she knew that never again might
+fall so timely a moment.  She put down her knitting, flung a peat on
+the fire, and spoke.
+
+"You be full of wonderful tales to-night, but now I'll please ask you
+to listen to me," she began.  "And mark this: you can't well be too
+hard upon me.  I've got a pack of sins to confess, and if, when you've
+heard 'em, you won't do with me no more, then do without me, and send
+me through that door.  I deserve it.  There's nought that's bad I don't
+deserve."
+
+He started up.
+
+"What's this?" he said.  "You haven't told anybody?"
+
+"No, no, no.  Ban't nothing about your affairs.  In a word, I overheard
+a secret.  I listened.  I did it out of woman's cursed curiosity.  And,
+as if that weren't enough, I got drunk as a fly down to 'The White
+Thorn' a while back and let out the truth.  And nought's too bad for
+me--nought in nature, I'm sure."
+
+Mr. Baskerville put down his pipe and turned to her.
+
+"Don't get excited.  Begin at the beginning.  What did you hear?"
+
+"I heard Mrs. Lintern tell you she was your brother's mistress.  I
+heard her tell you her children was also his."
+
+"And you're scourged for knowing it.  Let that be a lesson to you,
+woman."
+
+"That's only the beginning.  I ban't scourged for that.  I'm scourged
+because I've let it out again."
+
+"I'm shocked at you," he answered.  "Yes, I'm very much shocked at you;
+but I'm not at all surprised.  I knew as sure as I knew anything that
+'twould out.  The Lord chooses His own time and His own tool.  But that
+don't make your sin smaller.  You're a wicked woman."
+
+"I've signed the pledge, however, and not another drop----"
+
+"How many of 'em did you tell?"
+
+"But one.  Of course, I chose the man with the longest tongue.  Jack
+Head saw me up the hill after closing time and--there 'twas--I had to
+squeak.  But I made him swear as solemn as he knowed how that he
+wouldn't."
+
+"He's not what he was.  We had a proper row a month ago.  I doubt if
+he'll ever speak to me again.  And until he makes a humble apology for
+what he spoke, I won't hear him."
+
+"He swore he wouldn't tell."
+
+"Be that as it may, it will be known.  It's started and it won't stop."
+
+They talked for two hours upon the problems involved in these facts.
+Then there came a knock at the door and Susan went to answer it.
+
+Mr. Baskerville heard a protracted mumble and finally, after some
+argument, Mrs. Hacker shut the door and returned into the kitchen with
+a man.
+
+It was Jack himself.
+
+He explained the reason for his unduly late visit.  He was anxious and
+troubled.  He spoke without his usual fluency.
+
+"I didn't come to see you," he said.  "I waited till 'twas past your
+hour for going to bed.  But knowing that Mrs. Hacker was always later,
+I thought to speak to her.  However, nothing would do but I came in,
+and here I be."
+
+"I'll have nought to say to you, Head--not a single word--until you
+make a solemn apology for your infernal impudence last time you stood
+here afore me," said the master of Hawk House, surveying his visitor.
+
+"So Susan tells me, and so I will then," replied Jack.  "So solemn as
+ever you like.  You was right and I was wrong, and I did ought to have
+been kicked from here to Cosdon Beacon and back for what I said to you.
+We'm always punished for losing of our tempers.  And I was damn soon
+punished for losing mine, as you shall hear.  But first I confess that
+I was wrong and ax you, man to man, to forgive me."
+
+"Which I will do, and here's my hand on it," said the other.
+
+The old men shook hands and Susan wept.  Her emotion was audible and
+Humphrey told her to go to bed.  She refused.
+
+"I'm in this," she said.  "'Tis all my wicked fault from beginning to
+end, and I'm going to hear it out.  I shall weep my eyes blistered
+afore morning."
+
+"Don't begin now, then.  If you're going to stop here, be silent," said
+Humphrey.
+
+She sniffed, wiped her face, and then fetched a black bottle, some
+drinking water, and two glasses.
+
+"Light your pipe and say what you feel called upon to say," concluded
+Humphrey to Mr. Head.
+
+"'Tis like this," answered the other.  "Every man wants to boss
+somebody in this world.  That's a failing of human nature, and if we
+ain't strong enough to lord it over a fellow-creature, we try to reign
+over a hoss or even a dog.  Something we have to be master of.  Well,
+long since I marked that, and then, thanks to my understanding and
+sense, I comed to see--or I may have read it--that 'twas greater far to
+lord it over yourself than any other created thing."
+
+"And harder far," said Humphrey.
+
+"Without doubt you'm right.  And I set about it, and I had myself in
+hand something wonderful; and very proud I felt of it, as I had the
+right to feel."
+
+"Then the Lord, seeing you puffed up, sent a hard stroke to try whether
+you was as clever as you thought you was--and He found you were not,"
+suggested Mr. Baskerville.
+
+"I don't care nothing about that nonsense," answered Jack; "and,
+knowing my opinions, there ain't no call to drag the Lord in.  All I do
+know is that my hard-earned savings went, and--and--well, I got my
+monkey up about it, and I got out of hand.  Yes, I got out of hand.
+The awful shock of losing my thirty-five pounds odd took me off my
+balance.  For a bit I couldn't stand square against it, and I did some
+vain things, and just sank to be a common, everyday fool, like most
+other people."
+
+"'Tis a good thing you can see it, for 'twill end by righting your
+opinion of yourself."
+
+"My opinion of myself was a thought too high.  I admit it," answered
+Jack.  "For the moment I was adrift--but only for the moment.  Now I've
+come back to my common-sense and my high ideas, I can assure you.  But
+the mischief is that just while I was dancing with rage and out of hand
+altogether, I did some mistaken things.  Enough I had on my mind to
+make me do 'em, too.  But I won't excuse 'em.  I'll say, out and out,
+that they were very wrong.  You've agreed to overlook one of those
+things, and you say you'll forgive me for talking a lot of rubbish
+against you, for which I'm terrible sorry.  So that's all right, and no
+lasting harm there.  But t'other job's worse."
+
+Jack stopped for breath, and Susan sighed from the bottom of her
+immense bosom.  Humphrey poured out some gin and water for his guest.
+Then he helped himself more sparingly.
+
+"Here's to you," said Jack.  "To drink under this roof is to be
+forgiven.  Now I'll go on with my tale, and tell you about the second
+piece of work."
+
+He related how he had left Hawk House in wrath, how he had met with
+Timothy Waite; how he had been reproved and how he had hit back both
+with his fists and his tongue.
+
+"He knocked me down and gave me the truth of music with his heavy
+stick.  I hit him first, and I'm not saying anything about what he did,
+though there may be thirty years between us; but anyway he roused Cain
+in me and I told him, in a word, that the woman he was going to marry
+was the natural child of Nathan Baskerville.  'Twas a double offence
+against right-doing, because I'd promised Susan here not to let it out,
+and because to tell Waite, of all men, was a cowardly deed against the
+girl, seeing he meant to marry her.  But I'd quarrelled with her
+already, and tell him I did; and now I tell you."
+
+He drank and stared into the fire.  For some time Humphrey did not
+reply; but at last he expressed his opinion.
+
+"It all depends on the sort of chap that Waite may prove to be.  He'll
+either believe you, or he won't.  If he don't, no harm's done.  If he
+do, then 'tis his character and opinions will decide him.  For his own
+sake we'll trust he'll throw her off, for woe betide the man that
+marries her; but if he loves her better than her havage, he'll go his
+way and care nothing.  If he looks at it different, and thinks the
+matter can't rest there, he'll go further.  For my part I can't say I
+care much about it.  All I know is that Priscilla Lintern has rare
+virtues, though she weren't virtuous, and she've lived on no bed of
+roses, for all the brave way in which she stands up for my late
+brother.  She won't be sorry the murder's out.  When she told me--or
+when I told her--I made it plain that in my opinion this ought to be
+known.  She stood for the children, not herself, and said it never must
+be known for their sakes.  Well, now we shall see who hears it next.
+As for you two, you've got your consciences, and it ban't for me to
+come between you and them."
+
+"Well, I've told my story, and admitted my failings like a man," said
+Jack, "and, having done so, I can do no more.  My conscience is
+cleared, and I defy it to trouble me again; and I may add that I'll
+take mighty good care not to give it the chance.  So there you are.
+And come what may, I can stand to that."
+
+"How if they deny it and have you up for libel?" asked Mr. Baskerville;
+but Jack flouted the idea.
+
+"Not them," he said.  "Have no fear on that score.  I've got this woman
+for witness, and I've got you.  For that matter, even if 'twas known,
+nobody wouldn't die of astonishment.  Since the things Eliza Gollop
+said after Nathan died, 'twould come as a very gentle surprise, I
+believe.  And, when all's said, who's the worse, except what be called
+public morals?"
+
+Mr. Baskerville nodded.
+
+"There's some sense in what you say, Jack.  And I'm glad we're friends
+again.  And now I'm going to bed, so I'll ax you to be gone."
+
+Head rose, finished his refreshment, and shook Mr. Baskerville's hand.
+
+"And I'm the better for knowing as you've been large-minded enough to
+forgive me," he said.  "And as you can, I suppose Susan here can.  I
+know I'm very much in her black books, and I deserve that too, and I'd
+make it up to her in any way I can--except to marry her.  That I never
+will do for any woman as long as I live."
+
+"No, and never will get the chance to," replied Susan; "and I only
+trust to God 'twill all die out, and we hear no more of it."
+
+Head turned at the door and spoke a final word.
+
+"It may interest you to know that everybody have had their money
+now--everybody but me and Thomas Coode, the drunken farmer at Meavy.
+'Tis strange I should be put in the same class with Coode; but so it
+is.  However, I've larned my lesson.  I shall say no more about that.
+Think of it I must, being but mortal, but speak I won't."
+
+"You'll do well to forget it," answered Mr. Baskerville.  "The man, or
+woman if 'twas one, be probably settled in their mind not to pay you or
+Coode back--since you're so little deserving."
+
+Jack shrugged his shoulders, but kept his recent promise and went out
+silently.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+A jay, with flash of azure and rose, fluttered screaming along from
+point to point of a coppice hard by Hawk House, and Cora Lintern saw
+it.  She frowned, for this bird was associated in her mind with a
+recent and an unpleasant incident.  Her brother Heathman, whose
+disparate nature striking against her own produced many explosions, had
+recently told her that the jay was her bird--showy, tuneless,
+hard-hearted.  She remembered the occasion of this attack, but for the
+moment had no energy at leisure with which to hate him; for
+difficulties were rampant in her own path, and chance began to treat
+her much as she had treated other people in the past.
+
+In a word, her lover grew colder.  As yet she had no knowledge of the
+reason, but the fact could not be denied, and her uneasiness increased.
+He saw somewhat less of her, and he made no effort to determine the
+time of the wedding.  Neither did he invite her to do so.  He had come
+twice to see Mrs. Lintern when Cora was not by, and an account of these
+visits was reported by her mother.
+
+"I don't exactly know why he dropped in either time," said Mrs.
+Lintern.  "He kept talking on everyday matters, and never named your
+name.  'Twas curious, in fact, the way he kept it out.  All business,
+but nothing about the business of marrying you.  Yet there was plenty
+on his mind, I do believe.  I should reckon as he'd come for a special
+purpose, but finding himself here, it stuck in his throat.  He's strong
+with men, but weak with women.  Have he told you of aught that's
+fretting him?"
+
+Her daughter could remember nothing of the sort.  Neither did she
+confess what she did know--that Waite was unquestionably cooler than of
+old.
+
+"'Tis time the day was named," declared Priscilla.  "And you'd better
+suggest it when next you meet with him."
+
+But Cora did not do so, because there was much in Timothy's manner that
+told her he desired no expedition.  Some time had now elapsed since
+last she saw him, and to-day she was going, in obedience to a note
+brought by a labourer, to meet him at the Rut, half a mile from
+Coldstone Farm.  That he should have thus invited her to come to him
+was typical of the change in his sentiments.  Formerly he would have
+walked or ridden to her.  The tone of his brief note chilled her, but
+she obeyed it, and was now approaching their tryst at evening time in
+early September.
+
+In a little field nigh Hawk House she heard the purr of a corn-cutting
+machine.  It was clinking round and round, shearing at each revolution
+a slice from the island of oats that still stood in the midst of a sea
+of fallen grain.  A boy drove the machine, and behind it followed
+Humphrey Baskerville and Rupert.  The younger man had come over to help
+garner the crop.  Together they worked, gathered up the oats, and set
+them in little sheaves.  The waning sunlight gilded the standing oats.
+Now and then a dog barked and darted round the vanishing island in the
+midst, for there--separated from safety by half an acre of
+stubble--certain rabbits squatted together, and waited for the moment
+when they must bolt and make their final run to death.
+
+Cora, unseen, watched this spectacle; then Mrs. Hacker appeared with a
+tray, on which were three mugs and a jug of cider.
+
+The girl was early for her appointment, but she sauntered forward
+presently and marked Timothy Waite in the lower part of the valley.
+
+It was the Rut's tamest hour of late summer, for the brightness of the
+flowers had ceased to shine; the scanty heath made little display, and
+autumn had as yet lighted no beacon fire.  Stunted thorn trees ripened
+their harvest, but the round masses of the greater furze were dim; a
+prevalent and heavy green spread over the Rut, and the only colour
+contrast was that presented by long stretches of dead brake fern.  The
+litter had been cut several weeks before and allowed to dry and ripen.
+It had now taken upon itself a dark colour, widely different from the
+richer, more lustrous, and gold-sprinkled splendour of auburn that
+follows natural death.  The dull brown stuff was being raked together
+ready for the cart; and Cora, from behind a furze clump, watched her
+sweetheart carry immense trusses of the bracken and heave them up to
+the growing pile upon a wain that waited for the load.  All she could
+see was a pair of straight legs in black gaiters moving under a little
+stack of the fern; then the litter was lifted, to reveal Timothy Waite.
+
+Presently he looked at his watch and marked that the time of meeting
+was nearly come.  Whereupon he donned his coat, made tidy his
+neckcloth, handed his fork to a labourer, and left the working party.
+He strolled slowly up the coomb along the way that she must approach,
+while she left her hiding-place and set out to meet him.  He shook
+hands, but he did not kiss her, and he did not look into her eyes.
+Instead, he evaded her own glance, spoke quickly, and walked quickly in
+unconscious obedience to his own mental turmoil.
+
+"I can't run," she said.  "If you want me to hear what you're saying,
+Timothy, you must go slower, or else sit down in the hedge."
+
+"It's terrible," he answered.  "It's terrible, and it's made an old man
+of me.  But some things you seem to know from the first are true, and
+some you seem to know are not.  And when first I heard it I said to
+myself, t 'Tis a damned lie of a wicked and venomous man'; but then,
+with time and thought, and God knows how many sleepless nights, I got
+to see 'twas true enough.  And why wasn't I told?  I ask you that.  Why
+wasn't I told?"
+
+Her heart sank and her head grew giddy.  She translated this speech
+with lightning intuition, and knew too well all that it must mean.  It
+explained his increasing coolness, his absences and evasions.  It
+signified that he had changed his mind upon learning the secret of the
+Linterns.
+
+A natural feminine, histrionic instinct made her pretend utmost
+astonishment, though she doubted whether it would deceive him.
+
+"What you're talking about I haven't the slightest idea," she said.
+"But if you have a grievance, so have I--and more than one.  You wasn't
+used to order me here and there six weeks ago.  'Twas you that would
+come and see me then; now I've got to weary my legs to tramp to do your
+bidding."
+
+He paid no heed to her protest.
+
+"If you don't understand, then you must, and before we part, too.  I
+can't go on like this.  No living man could do it.  I called twice to
+see your mother about it, for it seemed to me that 'twas more seemly I
+should speak to her than to you; but when I faced her I couldn't open
+my mouth, much as I wanted to do so.  She shook me almost, and I'd have
+been thankful to be shook; but 'tis the craft and cunning of the thing
+that's too much for me.  I've been hoodwinked in this, and no doubt
+laughed at behind my back.  That's what's made me feel as I do now.  I
+waited and hoped on, and loved you for years, and saw you chuck two
+other men, and found I'd got you at last, and reckoned I was well
+rewarded for all my patience; and--then--then--this----"
+
+"What?  This what?  Are you mad?  What didn't you dare to speak to my
+mother, and yet you can speak to me?  What have I done that's set you
+against me?  What sin have I committed?  Don't think I'm blind.  I've
+seen you cooling off clear enough, and for the life of me I couldn't
+guess the reason, try as I would and sorrow about it as I would.  But
+since you've ordered me here for this, perhaps you'll go straight on
+and tell me what's all the matter."
+
+"I want you to answer me one question.  The answer you must know, and I
+ask you to swear afore your Maker that you'll tell me the truth.  Mind
+this, I know the truth.  It's scorched into me like a burn this many a
+day.  But I must hear it from you too, Cora."
+
+She guessed his question, and also guessed that in truth lay her last
+hope.  He spoke positively, and she doubted not that he knew.  His fear
+before her mother was natural.  She perceived how easily a man might
+have gone to a woman with this momentous question on his mind, and how
+naturally the presence of the woman might strike him dumb at the actual
+meeting.  None knew better than Cora how different is the reality of a
+conversation with a fellow-creature from the imaginary interview
+formulated before the event.  There was but one problem in her mind
+now--the advantage or disadvantage of truth.  She judged that the case
+was desperate, but that her only hope lay in honesty.
+
+"Speak," she said.  "And I swear I'll answer nought but the truth--if I
+know the truth."
+
+He hesitated, and considered her answer.  He was fond of her still, but
+the circumstance of this deception, to which he supposed her a party,
+had gone far to shake his affection.  The grievance was that the facts
+should have been hidden from him after his proposal.  He held that then
+was the time when Cora's paternity should have been divulged.  He
+believed that had he known it then, it would have made small difference
+to his love.  It was not so much the fact as the hiding of the fact
+that had troubled him.
+
+"Who was your father?" he asked at length, and the words burst out of
+him in a heap, like an explosion.
+
+"I know who he was," she answered.
+
+"Name him, then."
+
+"You see, Timothy, you never asked.  I often thought whether there was
+any reason to tell you, and often and often I felt you ought to know;
+but you're a wise and far-seeing man, and I wasn't the only one to be
+thought on.  I'd have told you from the first, even at the risk of
+angering you, but there was mother.  I couldn't do it--knowing what
+she'd feel.  I was a daughter afore I was a sweetheart.  Would you have
+done it when you came to think on your mother?"
+
+"Name him."
+
+"Nathan Baskerville was my father, and my sister's and brother's
+father.  My mother was his wife all but in name, and they only didn't
+marry because it meant losing money.  You understand why I didn't tell
+you--because of my poor mother.  Now you can do as you please.  I'm
+myself anyway, and I'm not going to suffer for another's sins more than
+I can help.  There's no stain on me, and well you know it."
+
+"Nathan was your father?"
+
+"He was.  I suppose Heathman told you.  He's threatened to oft enough."
+
+"No matter for that.  'Tis so, and 'twas deliberately hidden from me."
+
+"'Twas hidden from all the world.  And why not?  I did no wrong by
+hiding it, feel as I might.  There was four to think of."
+
+"'Twasn't hidden from all the world, and 'tisn't hidden.  I didn't
+learn it from Heathman.  You've brought this on yourself in a way.  If
+you hadn't quarrelled with a certain man I shouldn't have done so
+either.  Jack Head told me after I'd thrashed him for insulting you;
+and I suppose if he hadn't I might have gone to church with you, and
+very likely gone to my grave at last, and never known what you was."
+
+"I should have told you when my mother died."
+
+"D'you swear that?"
+
+"I tell you it is so.  I'm going to swear no more at your bidding.
+'Tis for me to speak now.  You've cut me to the quick to-day, and I
+doubt if I shall ever get over it.  'Tisn't a very manly way to treat
+an innocent girl, I should think.  However, I forgive everything and
+always shall, for I love the ground you walk on, and you know it, and
+'twasn't from any wish to treat you without proper respect that I hid
+away this cruel thing.  I said to myself, 'It can't hurt dear Tim not
+to know it, and it would hurt my mother and my sister terribly if 'twas
+known.'  So, right or wrong, I did what I did; and now you're in
+judgment over me, and I can't--I can't live another moment, dear
+Timothy, till I know how you feel about it."
+
+She had begun in a spirit rather dictatorial, but changed swiftly into
+this milder appeal when she marked the expression of his face.  He was
+prepared to stand little.  From the first she felt almost hopeless that
+she would have power to move him.
+
+"Who told Jack Head?" asked Timothy.
+
+"God knows.  My brother, I should think.  There's none else in the
+world but mother and Phyllis that knew it."
+
+"Others were told, but not me.  I was deceived by all of you."
+
+"That's not true," she answered as her fighting instinct got the better
+of tact.  "'Twasn't to deceive you not to tell you.  All families have
+got secrets--yours too."
+
+"You did wrong to me.  'Tisn't even like as if I was nobody.  I come of
+pretty good havage on my mother's side, and I think a lot of such
+things."
+
+"Well, the Baskervilles----"
+
+"Don't be foolish, woman!  D'you think I'm ----?  There, 'tisn't a case
+for talk that I can see.  The thing be done and can't be undone.  I'd
+have overlooked it, so like as not, if you'd made a clean breast of the
+truth when I offered for you; but to let me go on blind--I can't
+forgive that."
+
+Perceiving what had hurt him, Cora set herself to lessen the sting as
+much as possible; but she failed.  They talked to no purpose for an
+hour, while she used every argument that occurred to her, and he
+opposed to her swift mind and subtle reasoning a blank, impassive wall
+of sulky anger and wounded pride.  It began to grow dark before the
+conclusion came, and they had walked half-way back to Shaugh.  At the
+top of the hill he left her, and the battle ended in wrath on both
+sides and a parting irrevocable.
+
+Her failure it was that made Cora lose her temper, and when she did so,
+he, thankful for the excuse, spoke harshly, and absolved his own uneasy
+spirit for so doing.
+
+The final scene was brief, and the woman, wearied in mind and body with
+her efforts to propitiate him, drew it down upon them.
+
+"Why don't you speak out like a man, then?" she said at last.  "Why
+d'you keep growling in your throat, like a brute, and not answering my
+questions?  'Tis because you can't answer them in right and justice.
+But one word you've got to find a tongue to, though well you may be
+shamed to do it.  It shan't be said I've thrown you over, if that's the
+cowardly thing you're playing up for.  I promised to marry you, and I
+would marry you; but you don't want to marry me, it seems, and you've
+pitched on this paltry thing to get out of it."
+
+"'Paltry thing'!  You're shameless."
+
+"Yes, it is paltry; and everybody would say so; and you'll hear what
+decent people think of you pretty soon if you throw me over, I can tell
+you.  How can a child help its own father, or see whether its parents
+be properly married?  You're cruel and mad both."
+
+"We'll see, then," he answered.  "Since you're bent on hearing me
+speak, I will.  And don't pretend as I'm growling and you're not
+hearing.  I'll tell you what I mean, and my words shall be as clear as
+my mind is about it.  I won't marry you now, and I wouldn't if you was
+all you ought to be.  I've had a taste of your tongue this evening
+that's opened my mind a good bit to what you are.  You've shown me a
+lot more about yourself than you think for.  And if I did growl, like a
+brute, my ears was open and my wits was wide awake, like a man.  And I
+won't marry you, and I've a perfect right not to do so after this."
+
+"You dirty coward!  No, you shan't marry me, and you shouldn't if you
+crawled to me across the whole world on your knees, and prayed to me to
+forgive you.  And if you're well out of it, what am I?  And don't you
+think you've heard the last of this, because you have not.  I've got
+good friends and strong friends in the world, though you'd like to
+fancy as I was friendless and outcast, for men like you to spit on.
+But I can fight my own battles very well, come to that, as you shall
+find; and I'll have you up for breach, God's my judge; and if decent
+men don't bring in proper, terrifying damages against you, I'll ask you
+to forgive me.  Yes, I'll make your name laughed at from one end of the
+Moor to t'other, as you shall find afore you'm many days older."
+
+He stood still before this threat, and, finding that he did not answer,
+she left him and hastened home.
+
+There she blazed her startling news.  Cora's own attitude towards the
+truth was now one of indifference.  She raged against her fate, and for
+the time being could not look forward.  Phyllis alone displayed grief.
+She was engaged to a young baker at Cornwood, and feared for her own
+romance: therefore she wept and revealed the liveliest concern.  But
+Heathman, perceiving Priscilla's indifference, exhibited the like.  It
+appeared that mother and son were glad rather than regretful at this
+escape of truth.
+
+Mrs. Lintern, however, exhibited exceeding wonder, if little dismay.
+She was sorry for Cora, but not for herself.
+
+"I had a feeling, strong as death in me, that 'twould come to light,"
+she said.  "Somehow I always knew that the thing must struggle out
+sometime.  Many and many actually knew it in their hearts, by a sort of
+understanding--like a dog's reason.  And I knew they knew it.  But the
+truth was never openly thrust in my face till he died, and Eliza Gollop
+spoke it.  And, she being what she is, none believed her; and 'twas
+enough that she should whisper scandal for the better sort to flout her
+and turn a deaf ear.  And now it's out, and the great wonder in me
+ban't that 'tis out, but who let it out.  For the moment it looks as if
+'twas a miracle; yet, no doubt, time will clear that too."
+
+"I suppose you'll go now," said Cora.  "Anyway, if you don't, I shall.
+There's been nought but trouble and misery for me in this hole from my
+childhood upward."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+There visited Cadworthy Farm, on a Sunday afternoon, Priscilla Lintern
+with her son and her younger daughter.
+
+They came unexpectedly, though Rupert had told Heathman they would not
+be unwelcome.  May was from home, and the business of preparing tea
+fell upon Milly Baskerville.  Phyllis helped Rupert's wife in this
+operation, and while they were absent in the kitchen and the men went
+to the farm, Hester and Priscilla spoke together.  The one discussed
+her son, the other her daughter and herself.
+
+"I've been coming over to see you this longful time," said Mrs.
+Baskerville, "but what with the weather and--and----"
+
+"The things that are being said, perhaps?"
+
+"No, not them.  I'm an old woman now, and if I've not got patience at
+my age, when shall I get it?  Good things have happed to me--better
+than I deserved--and I'm only sorry for them as have had less fortune.
+I never pay no heed to stories at any time.  My master taught me that."
+
+"I merely want to tell you that 'tis all true.  For my children's sake
+I should never have told it, but since it had to come I'm right glad."
+
+"I'd rather you spared yourself," said Mrs. Baskerville.  "You've had
+enough to bear, I should reckon.  Leave it.  I've always felt a very
+great respect for you, and always shall do so; and I've no wish to hear
+anything about it.  Well I know what men are, and what life is.  He was
+lucky--lucky in you and lucky in his brothers.  What he took away from
+me, Humphrey has given back.  Now we'll go on as before.  Mr. Waite
+have thrown your maiden over, I hear.  What's she going to do?"
+
+"Thank you for being kind," answered Mrs. Lintern.  "I've been a good
+deal astonished to find how easily the people have took this thing.
+The world's a larger-minded place than I, for one, had any idea of.
+The neighbours, save here and there, seem to be like you, and reckon
+that 'tis no business of theirs.  My son's terrible pleased that it
+have got out; and the young man who is going to marry Phyllis don't
+mean to alter his plans.  And your brother is glad also, I suppose, for
+he wished it.  But to Cora, this business of being flung over hit her
+very hard, and she wanted to bring an action for breach of promise
+against Timothy.  She went to see Mr. Popham about it; only he didn't
+seem to think she'd get much, and advised her to do no such thing."
+
+"Why ban't she along with you to-day?"
+
+"She won't go nowhere.  She'll be off pretty soon to a milliner's to
+Plymouth.  She wants to clear away from everything so quick as may be."
+
+"Natural enough.  Let her go in a shop somewhere and begin again.  My
+Ned, I may tell you, have found----
+
+"Work, I hope?"
+
+"No.  Another girl to marry him.  It looks as if it might go through
+this time, though I can't see him really married after all his
+adventures with the maidens.  'Tis the daughter of the livery-stable
+keeper at Tavistock.  And she's the only one--and King--that's her
+father's name--worships the ground she goes on.  It's like to happen
+after Christmas.  And Ned's been straight about it, and he've broke in
+a young horse or two very clever for Mr. King, so I suppose he'll let
+them wed for the girl's sake.  He's there to-day."
+
+Mrs. Lintern nodded.
+
+"Where's May?" she asked.  "Away too?"
+
+"Only till evening.  She's drinking tea along with her Uncle Humphrey
+at Hawk House."
+
+"A strange man he is."
+
+"'Tis strange for any man to be so good."
+
+"He first found out about me and his brother.  And how d'you reckon?
+From Cora.  His sharp eyes saw her father in her long before Nathan
+died.  I've been to Hawk House since it came out.  He was content that
+Cora had suffered so sharp, and said so."
+
+"He thinks a great deal of you and Heathman, however."
+
+Milly brought the tea at this moment and called Heathman and Rupert,
+who were smoking in the farmyard.  They appeared, and Milly's baby was
+carried to join the company.  Rupert showed the cup that his godfather
+had given to the child.
+
+The Baskervilles made it clear that they designed no change in their
+relations with Mrs. Lintern.  A sharp estrangement had followed Ned's
+jilting, but that belonged to the past.  Amity reigned, and Milly
+expressed regret at Mrs. Lintern's determination to leave Shaugh Prior
+in the following spring.
+
+"They'll both be gone--both girls," she explained, "and Heathman here
+haven't got no need of a wife yet, he says, so he and I shall find a
+smaller and a cheaper place than Undershaugh."
+
+"Cora will marry yet," foretold Rupert.  "Third time's lucky, they say."
+
+"'Twill be the fourth time," corrected Milly.
+
+They ate and drank, and spoke on general subjects; then the Linterns
+prepared to start, and Priscilla uttered a final word to Hester before
+the younger people.
+
+"I thank you for letting the past go.  There was but few mattered to
+me, and you were the first of them."
+
+They departed, and the Baskervilles talked about them.
+
+Behind her back, they spoke gently of Priscilla, and old Mrs.
+Baskerville revealed even a measure of imagination in her speech.
+
+"The worst was surely after he sank into his grave and the storm
+broke," said Hester.  "To think she was standing there, his unknown,
+unlawful wife, yet a wife in spirit, with all a wife's love and all a
+wife's belief in him.  To think that her ear had to hear, and her heart
+had to break, and her mouth had to be dumb.  Gall and vinegar that
+woman have had for her portion these many days--yet she goes unsoured."
+
+"She's got a rare good son to stand by her," declared Rupert.
+
+"And so have I," murmured Milly, squeezing the baby who was sucking her
+breast.
+
+"And I've got four," answered Mrs. Baskerville.  "Four brave boys--one
+on sea and three on land.  Things be divided curious; but our part is
+to thank God for what we've got, and not worry because them that
+deserve more have so much less.  That's His work, and the balance will
+swing true again in His own good time."
+
+
+Elsewhere, upon their journey home, the Linterns fell in with May.  She
+was excited, and turned back and walked beside them for half a mile.
+
+"I'm just bursting with news," she said, "and I hope you haven't heard
+it."
+
+"The world be full of news," answered Heathman.  "There's a bit down to
+Shaugh as I meant to tell Rupert just now and forgot, owing to press of
+other matters.  It proves as I'm a prophet too, for I've said this
+three year that it was bound to happen.  And that disgrace in the
+churchyard over my father's grave have brought it to a climax.  I mean
+Tommy Gollop and that other old rip, Joe Voysey.  Both have got the
+sack!  The reverend Masterman have hit out right and left and floored
+the pair of 'em.  Mind you tell Rupert that.  'Twill make him die of
+laughing.  The old boys be showing their teeth too, I promise you."
+
+"I'll tell him."
+
+"And what was your news?" asked Mrs. Lintern.
+
+"Very good; yet perhaps no news neither to many folk who understand
+things better than me.  Yet I'd often thought in my mind that 'twas my
+uncle Humphrey clearing off Uncle Nathan's----"
+
+She stopped, brought to silence by the recollection of their
+relationship.
+
+"Say it," said Priscilla.  "I know what's on your lips.  Don't fear to
+say it."
+
+"That 'twas Uncle Humphrey made all right," continued May.  "And paid
+back what had been lost.  We can't say how it might have gone if Uncle
+Nathan had lived.  No doubt, sooner or late, he'd have done the same,
+for never would he let man or woman suffer if he could help it.
+Anyway, all be in the fair way to have their money again.  And I asked
+Lawyer Popham long ago, when he came to Cadworthy, who 'twas, and he
+wouldn't say; but had no doubt we could guess.  And then I asked Susan
+Hacker, and she wouldn't say, but yet came so near saying that there
+was little left to know.  And to-day I tackled Uncle Humphrey and gave
+him no peace till 'twas out.  'To please himself' he's done it."
+
+She panted for breath, and then continued--
+
+"And there's more yet.  'Twas him paid up my married sister's legacy,
+and even Ned's not forgot--for justice.  And when Uncle Humphrey
+dies--and far be it off--my brother Rupert's to have Cadworthy!  I got
+that out of him too.  But I've solemnly promised not to tell Rupert.
+He's going to tell him himself."
+
+"A useful old fairy, and no mistake," laughed Heathman.  "He'll beggar
+himself afore he's finished, and then you'll all have to set to work to
+keep him out of the workhouse!"
+
+"He said that very thing," answered May, "and Susan said the same.  Not
+that it makes any difference to him, for he hasn't got any comforts
+round him, and gets savage if you ask him so much as to take a hot
+brick to bed with him to warm himself in winter."
+
+"All these things," said Mrs. Lintern, "have been done for honour of
+the name.  Your folk go back along far--far into the past, and there's
+never been a cloud between them and honest dealing.  But, when
+Heathman's father was cut off with his work unfinished, it happed that
+he left no money, and the many things that he had planned all fell
+short, without his mastermind to pick up the threads and bring them
+through.  Then came Humphrey Baskerville, and for love of his brother
+and for love of the name, did these good deeds.  And to beggar himself
+in money be nought in the eyes of that man, if he leaves his family
+rich in credit afore the eyes of the world.  Such another was your own
+father, May; and such another is your brother Rupert; and such another
+was your cousin Mark.  They had their own sight and looked at the world
+their own way and all saw it different, maybe; but they never saw
+justice different."
+
+"And such be I," declared Heathman.  "I can't call myself a
+Baskerville, and shan't get no thinner for that; but I'm the son of my
+mother, and she's worth a shipload of any other sort--better than the
+whole flight of you Baskervilles, May--good though you be.  And I'm
+very well pleased to be kin to you all, if you like, and if you don't
+like, you can leave it."
+
+They parted then, and May returned home.  Heathman showed himself
+highly gratified at what he had heard, and his sister shared his
+satisfaction.  But their mother was sunk deep in the hidden places of
+her own heart, and they left her alone while they spoke together.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+Joe Voysey walked over one evening to talk with his lifelong friend
+Thomas Gollop.  The gardener felt choked to the throat with injustice,
+and regarded his dismissal from the vicarage as an outrage upon
+society; while Mr. Gollop laboured under similar emotions.
+
+Both declared that the ingratitude of Dennis Masterman was what
+principally stung them.  To retire into private life caused them no
+pain; but to have been invited to do so was a bitter grievance.
+
+Miss Eliza Gollop chanced to be out, and Thomas sat by the fire alone.
+His Bible stood on the table, but he was not reading it.  Only when
+Voysey's knock sounded at the cottage door did Thomas wheel round from
+the fire, open the book and appear to be buried in its pages.
+
+He had rather expected a visit from Mr. Masterman, hence these
+preparations; but when Voysey entered, Thomas modified his devout
+attitude and shut the Bible again.
+
+"I half thought as that wretched man from the vicarage might call this
+evening," he said.
+
+"He won't, then," replied Joe, "for he've got together all they fools
+who have fallen in with his wish about yowling carols at Christmas.
+Him and her be down at the schoolroom; and there's row enough rising up
+to fright the moon."
+
+"Carol-singing!  I wish the time was come for him to sing to his God
+for mercy," said Thomas.
+
+Then he went to a cupboard and brought out a bottle of spirits.
+
+"Have he said anything to you about a pension?" asked Voysey.
+
+"No, not yet.  I thought he might be coming in about that to-night.  My
+father afore me got a pension--a shilling a day for life--and I ought
+to have twice as much, in my opinion, though I don't expect it.  And
+when I've got all I can, I'm going to shake the dust off my boots
+against the man and his church too.  Never again, till I'm carried in
+to my grave, will I go across the threshold--not so long as he be
+there.  I'm going to take up with the Dissenters, and I advise you to
+do the same."
+
+"That woman have told me about my pension," answered Joe--"Alice
+Masterman, I mean.  I won't call her 'Miss' no more, for 'tis too
+respectful.  She've worked on her brother--so she says--to give me
+three half-crowns a week.  But I doubt she had anything to do with
+it--such a beastly stinge as her.  However, that's the money; and who
+d'you think they've took on?  That anointed fool the policeman's
+brother!  He've been learning a lot of silliness down to a nurseryman
+at Plymouth, and he'm coming here, so bold as brass, and so noisy as a
+drum, to show what can be done with that garden.  And if I don't look
+over the wall sometimes and have a laugh at him, 'tis pity!"
+
+Gollop nodded moodily, but he did not answer.  Then Joe proceeded with
+malevolent glee.
+
+"I clear out on the last day of the year," he said; "and if I haven't
+picked the eyes out of his garden and got 'em settled in my patch afore
+that day----!  She met me taking over a lot of mint plants a bit ago.
+'Where be you taking they mint plants?' she said.  'To a neighbour,' I
+said.  'He wants 'em, and we can spare 'em.'  'You'll ask me, please,
+before you give things away, Voysey,' she said.  And now I ax, humble
+as a maggot, if I may take this or that to a neighbour afore I move a
+leaf.  And she always says, 'Yes, if we can spare it.'  Had her
+there--eh?"
+
+"As for me," said Gollop, "I shall be the last regular right down
+parish clerk we ever have--unless the good old times come back later.
+A sexton he must use, since people have got to be buried, but who
+'twill be I neither know nor care."
+
+"Mind you take the tools," said Joe.  "They be fairly your property,
+and you can sell 'em again if you don't want 'em yourself.  I've made a
+good few shillings that way during the last forty years.  But as for
+leaving the church, I shouldn't do that, because of the Christmas
+boxes.  'Tis well knowed in Shaugh that your Christmas boxes run into a
+tidy figure, and some people go so far as to say that what you take at
+the door, when the bettermost come out after Christmas morning prayer,
+is pretty near so good as what be dropped in the bags for the
+offerings."
+
+"Lies," declared Thomas.  "All envious lies.  I never got near what the
+people thought.  Still, I hadn't remembered.  That's yet another thing
+where he'll have robbed me."
+
+When Miss Eliza Gollop appeared half an hour later, she was cold and
+dispirited.
+
+"What be you doing in here?" she said to Mr. Voysey.
+
+"Having a tell with Thomas.  We be both wishing to God we could strike
+them hateful people to the vicarage.  Harm be bound to come to 'em, for
+their unchristian ways; but me and your brother would like to be in it."
+
+"You'll be in it alone, then," she answered; "for this place have gone
+daft where they're concerned.  They can't do no wrong seemingly--except
+to us.  The people babble about him, and even her, as if they was
+angels that had lost their wings."
+
+"'Tis all lax and lawless and going to the dogs," said Thomas.
+"There's no truth and honesty and manliness left in Shaugh.  The man
+found a human thigh-bone kicking about up under the top hedge of the
+churchyard yesterday.  Lord knows where it had come from.  I never seed
+it nowhere; but he turned on me and said 'twas sacrilege, and I know
+not what else.  'Where there's churchyards, there'll also be bones,' I
+said to the fool; 'and if one here and there works to the top, along of
+the natural heaving of the earth, how can a sexton or any other man
+help it?'  A feeble creature, and making the young men feeble too.
+Carol-singing!  Who wants carols?  However, I've done with him.  I've
+stood between him and his folly time and again; but never no more.  Let
+him go."
+
+"'Tis a knock-kneed generation," declared Mr. Voysey.  "All for comfort
+and luxury.  Tea, with sugar in it, have took the place of the good,
+honest, sour cider like what every man had in harvest days of old.  But
+now, these here young youths, they say sharp cider turns their innards!
+It never used to turn ours.  'Tis all of a piece, and the nation's on
+the downward road, along of too much cosseting."
+
+"For my part, I think 'tis more the weakness of mind than the weakness
+of body that be ruining us," observed Miss Gollop.  "As a nurse I see
+more than you men can, and, as a female, I hear more than you do.  And
+I will say that the way the people have taken these here doings of that
+scarlet woman to Undershaugh is a sin and a scandal.  At first they
+wouldn't believe it, though I blew the trumpet of truth in their ears
+from the moment that Dissenter died; but, afterwards, when 'twas known
+as a fact and the parties couldn't deny it, and Mr. Waite throwed over
+Cora Lintern, as any respecting man would when he heard the shameful
+truth--then who came to me and said, 'Ah, you was right, Eliza, and I
+was wrong'?  Not one of 'em!  And what's worse is the spirit they've
+taken it in.  Nobody cares, though everybody ought to care!"
+
+"Every person says 'tis none of their business," explained Voysey.
+
+"More shame to 'em!" declared Thomas.  "As if it wasn't the business of
+all decent men and women.  Time was when such an incontinent terror of
+a woman would have been stoned out of the village in the name of law
+and righteousness.  Yet now, mention the thing where I will, 'tis taken
+with a heathen calmness that makes my blood boil.  And Masterman worst
+of all, mind!  If it wasn't a case for a scorching sermon, when was
+there one?  Yet not a word.  And not a word from the Dissenters
+neither--not in the meeting-house--though 'tis a subject they'm very
+great against most times.  However, I've inquired and I find it has
+been passed over."
+
+"No godly anger anywhere," admitted Eliza, "and not one word of sorrow
+to me for the hard things what were spoken when I stood up
+single-handed and told the truth."
+
+"Religion be dying out of the nation," summed up Thomas.  "My father
+always said that me and Eliza would live to see antichrist ascend his
+throne; and it begins to look as if the times were very near ripe for
+the man.  And 'twill be harder than ever now--now I'm driven out from
+being parish clerk.  For I shall have to look on and yet be powerless
+to strike a blow."
+
+They drank in gloomy silence; but Mr. Voysey was not similarly
+oppressed by the moral breakdown of the times.  He strove to bring
+conversation back to the vicarage, and failing to do so, soon took his
+leave.
+
+After he had gone the brother and sister debated long, and Thomas gave
+it as his opinion that it would be well for them to leave Shaugh and
+end their days in a more Christian and congenial atmosphere.
+
+"There's nought to keep us now," he said; "all have gone down afore
+that Masterman, and 'tis something of a question whether such as we
+ought to bide here, simply as common folk with no more voice in the
+parish.  If we go, the blame lies on his shoulders; but once I make up
+my mind, I won't stop--not though the people come before me and beg on
+their bended knees for me to do so."
+
+"'Twould be like Adam and Eve being driven out of the Garden if we'm
+forced to go," declared Eliza.
+
+"With this difference, however, that the blame ban't with us, though
+the punishment may be.  There's nobody can say we've ever done wrong
+here, or gone outside our duty to God or man by a hair.  If we go, 'tis
+them that drive us out will have to pay for their wickedness."
+
+"They'll certainly smart, if 'tis only in the long run," confessed
+Eliza.  "'Twill be brought home against them at the appointed time."
+
+Thomas nodded drearily.
+
+"Cold comfort," he said, "but the only satisfaction there is to be got
+out of it by us.  Yes, I shall go; I shall shake off the dust for a
+witness.  I wish I thought as 'twould choke a party here and there;
+but, thank God, I know my place.  I never offered to do His almighty
+work, and I never will.  I never wanted to call down thunder from
+heaven on the evil-doer.  But 'tis always a tower of faith to a
+righteous man when he sees the Lord strike.  And to them as be weak in
+faith, 'tis often a puzzle and a temptation to see how long the Lord
+holds off, when justice cries aloud to Him to rise up and do His worst."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+At the approach of another Christmas, Humphrey Baskerville stood in the
+churchyard of St. Edward's and watched two masons lodge the stone that
+he had raised to his brother Nathan.  It conformed to the usual pattern
+of the Baskerville memorials, and was of slate.  The lettering had been
+cut deep and plain without addition of any ornament.  The accidental
+severity and simplicity of the stone contrasted to advantage with
+Vivian's ornate and tasteless marble beside it.
+
+Dennis Masterman walked across the churchyard presently and, seeing
+Humphrey, turned and approached.
+
+"Good morning," he said.  "Glad you've put a slate here.  I like them
+better than these garish things.  They are more suited to this grey
+Moor world of ours."
+
+"'Tis a foolish waste to spend money on the dead," answered Mr.
+Baskerville.  "When all the living be clothed and fed, then we can
+fling away our money over graves.  'Tis only done to please ourselves,
+not to please them."
+
+"You've a right to speak," said the clergyman.  "To praise you would be
+an impertinence; but as the priest of Him we both worship, I rejoice to
+think of what you have done to clear the clouded memory of this man."
+
+Humphrey took no verbal notice of these remarks.  He shrugged his
+shoulders and spoke of the gravestone.
+
+"I'll thank you to read what I've put over him, and say whether 'tis
+not right and just."
+
+The other obeyed.  After particulars of Nathan's age and the date of
+his death, there followed only the first verse of the forty-first
+Psalm--
+
+  "Blessed is he that considereth the poor: the Lord
+  will deliver him in time of trouble."
+
+
+"You see," explained Mr. Baskerville, "my brother did consider the
+poor--and none else.  That he made a botch of it, along of bad judgment
+and too much hope and too much trust in himself, is neither here nor
+there; for I hold his point of view was well-meaning though mistaken.
+If we see a man's point of view, it often leads--I won't say to mercy,
+for that's no business of ours in my opinion--but to the higher
+justice.  To judge by results is worldly sense, but I'm doubtful if
+'tis heavenly sense.  Anyway, that's how I feel about my brother now,
+though 'twas only brought home to me after a year of thinking; and as
+for the end of the text, certainly that happened, because none can
+doubt the Lord delivered him in the time of trouble.  His death was a
+deliverance, as every death must be, but none more than Nathan's afore
+the tempest broke."
+
+Masterman--knowing as little as the other what Nathan's death had
+brought to Nathan of mental agony before the end--conceded these points
+freely.  They walked together in the churchyard and spoke of moral
+topics and religious instruction.  At a point in the enclosure, the
+younger stopped and indicated a space remote from the lodges of the
+silent people.
+
+"You design to lie here--is it not so?  Gollop, I remember, told me, a
+long time ago now."
+
+The old man regarded the spot indifferently and shook his head.
+
+"I meant it once--not now.  We change our most fixed purposes under the
+battering of the world; and small enough our old thoughts often look,
+when seen again, after things have happened and years have passed.
+I'll creep to join my own, if you please.  They won't mind, I reckon,
+if I sink into the pit beside 'em.  I'll go by my wife and my son and
+my brothers.  We'll all rise and brave the Trump together, as well as
+erring man may."
+
+The stone was set in its place presently and Mr. Baskerville, well
+pleased with the result, set off homeward.  His tethered pony stood at
+the gate, and he mounted and went slowly up the hill.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+"Some say they believe the old saying and some say they don't,"
+declared Mr. Abraham Elford to a thin bar at six o'clock on Christmas
+Eve; "but for my part I know what I've proved to be true with my own
+eyes, and I will stick to it that apples picked at wane of moon do
+shrivel and scrump up cruel.  In fact, for hoarding they be no use at
+all."
+
+"And you swear that you've proved that?" asked Mr. Head in his most
+judicial manner.  "You stand there, a man up home sixty years of age,
+and steadfastly declare that apples gathered when the moon be on the
+wane do dry up quicker than others that be plucked when it begins to
+grow?"
+
+"Yes, I do," declared the innkeeper.  "Don't I tell you that I've
+proved it?  Pick your apples when the moon be first horning, that's my
+advice."
+
+They wrangled upon the question, and missed its real interest as an
+example of the value of evidence and the influence of superstition and
+individual idiosyncrasy on all human testimony.
+
+Jack scoffed, Abraham Elford grew warm; for who is there that can
+endure to hear his depositions brushed aside as worthless?
+
+Upon this great topic of the shrinking of apples at wane of moon, some
+sided with Mr. Head; while others, who held lunar influence as a force
+reaching into dark mysteries of matter and mind, supported the publican.
+
+The contention was brisk, and not until it began to interfere with the
+nightly sale of his liquor, did Elford awake to its danger and stop it.
+He conceded nothing, but declared the argument must cease.
+
+"'Tis Christman Eve," said he, "and no occasion for any short words or
+sharp sayings.  Me and Head both know that we'm right, and mountains
+wouldn't move either of us from our opinions, so let it be."
+
+He lifted a great earthen pot from the fire in the bar parlour.  It
+contained cider with pieces of toast floating in it.
+
+"Pretty drinking, as I'm certain sure that one and all of you will
+say," foretold the host.
+
+Apples, however, rose again to be first topic of conversation before
+this fine wassail, and Jack spoke once more.
+
+"Time was, down to the in country, that on this night--or else Old
+Christman Eve, I forget which--we gawks should all have marched out
+solemn to the orchards and sung lucky songs, and poured out cider, and
+fired our guns into the branches, and made all-round heathen fools of
+ourselves.  And why?  Because 'twas thought that to do so improved the
+next year's crop a thousandfold!  And when we remember that 'twas no
+further back than our fathers that they did such witless things, it did
+ought to make us feel humble, I'm sure."
+
+"Don't talk no more about cider, drink it," said Heathman Lintern, who
+was of the company.  "Drink it while 'tis hot, and 'twill warm your
+bones and soften your opinions.  You'm so peart to-night and so sharp
+at the corners, that I reckon you've got your money back at last."
+
+This direct attack reduced Mr. Head to a less energetic and dogmatic
+frame of mind.
+
+"No," he answered.  "I have not, and I happen to know that I never
+shall.  Me and the old chap fell out, and I dressed him down too sharp.
+I was wrong, and I've since admitted it, for I'm the rare, fearless
+sort that grant I'm wrong the first minute it can be proved against me.
+Though when a man's built on that large pattern, you may be sure he
+ban't wrong very often.  'Tis only the peddling, small creatures that
+won't admit they're mistaken--out of a natural fear that if they once
+allow it, they'll never be thought right again.  But though he's
+forgiven me, I've strained the friendship.  So we live and learn."
+
+"Coode's had his money again," said the host of 'The White Thorn.'
+
+"He has--the drunken dog?  There's only me left," returned Jack.
+
+"It wasn't till after he lost his money that he took to swilling,
+however," declared the innkeeper.  "I know him well.  The misfortune
+ruined his character."
+
+"His daughter's been paid back, all the same," said Lintern.  "She
+keeps his house, and the old boy gave the money to her, to be used or
+saved according as she thinks best."
+
+"That leaves only me," said Jack.
+
+"Me and Rupert was running over the figures a bit ago," continued
+Heathman.  "We made out that the sporting old blade had dropped upwards
+of six thousand over this job, and we was wondering how much that is
+out of all he's got."
+
+"A fleabite, I reckon," answered Head; but the other doubted it.
+
+"Rupert says he thinks 'tis pretty near half of his fortune, if not
+more.  He goes shabbier than ever, and he eats little better than orts
+for his food."
+
+"That's no new thing," said another man as he held a mug for some more
+of the hot cider; "'twas always so, as Susan Hacker will tell you.  My
+wife have heard her grumbling off and on these ten years about it.  His
+food's poor and coarse, like his baccy and his cider.  His clothes be
+kept on his back till there ban't enough of the web left to hold 'em
+together any longer.  Susan offered an old coat to a tramp once,
+thinking to get it away afore Baskerville missed it; and the tramp
+looked it over--through and through, you might say--and he thanked
+Susan as saucy as you please, and told her that when he was going to
+set up for a mommet[1] he'd let her know, but 'twouldn't be yet."
+
+
+[1] _Mommet_--scarecrow.
+
+
+"A strange old night-hawk, and always have been," said Head.  "Not a
+man--not even me, though I know him best--can measure him altogether.
+Never was such a mixture.  Now he's so good-natured as the best stone,
+and you'll go gaily driving into him and then, suddenly, you'll strike
+flint, and get a spark in your eye, and wish to God you'd left the man
+alone.  He's beyond any well-balanced mind to understand, as I've told
+him more than once."
+
+"Meek as Moses one minute, then all claws and prickles the next--so
+they tell me," declared Abraham Elford.  "But whether 'tis true or not,
+I can't say from experience," he added, "for the man don't come in
+here."
+
+"And why?" said Heathman.  "That's another queer side of him.  I axed
+him that same question, and he said because to his eyes the place was
+haunted by my father.  'I should see Nathan's long beard wagging behind
+the bar,' he said to me, 'and I couldn't abide it.'"
+
+"He's above common men, no doubt," declared another speaker.  "We can
+only leave him at that.  He's a riddle none here will ever guess, and
+that's the last word about him."
+
+Rupert Baskerville came in at this moment and saw Heathman.  Both were
+in Dennis Masterman's carol choir, and it was time that they gathered
+with the rest at the vicarage, for a long round of singing awaited them.
+
+"A mild night and the roads pretty passable," he announced.  "We're
+away in half an hour wi' books and lanterns; but no musickers be coming
+with us, like in the good old days.  Only voices to carry it off."
+
+He stopped to drink, and the sight of Jack Head reminded him of a
+commission.
+
+"I want you, Jack," he said.  "Come out in the ope-way for half a
+moment."
+
+They departed together, and in a few moments returned.  Rupert was
+laughing, Mr. Head exhibited the liveliest excitement.  In one hand he
+waved three ten-pound notes; with the other he chinked some gold and
+silver.
+
+"Money!  Money!  Money, souls!" he shouted.  "If that baggering old
+hero haven't paid me after all!  Give it a name, boys, drinks round!"
+
+They congratulated him and liquor flowed.  Head was full of rejoicing.
+He even exhibited gratitude.
+
+"You might say 'twas no more than justice," he began; "but I tell you
+he's more than just--he's a very generous old man, and nobody can deny
+it, and I for one would like to do something to pay him back."
+
+"There's nought you can do," declared Elford, "but be large-minded
+about it, and overlook the little smart that always touches a big mind
+when it's asked to accept favours."
+
+"Not a big mind," corrected Rupert.  "'Tis only a small mind can't take
+favours.  And the thought of giving that smart would pain my uncle, for
+he's terrible tender and he's smarted all his life, and knows what 'tis
+to feel so."
+
+"Smart be damned!" said Mr. Head.  "There's no smart about getting back
+your own.  I'm only glad that he felt the call to pay; and, though I
+was kept to the last, I shan't quarrel about that.  If Rupert here, as
+be his nephew and his right hand by all accounts, could hit on a thing
+for us to do that would please the man, then I say us might do it
+without loss of credit.  There's nobody has anything serious against
+him, I believe, nowadays, unless it be Abraham here, because he never
+comes inside his bar."
+
+The publican shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"I can't quarrel for that," he said, "since he goeth nowhere else
+either."
+
+They considered the possible ways of bringing any satisfaction to
+Humphrey Baskerville, but could hit on no happy project.  Head, indeed,
+was fertile of ideas, but Rupert found objections to all of them.
+
+"If us could only do something that meant a lot of different chaps all
+of one mind," said Heathman.  "The old bird always thinks that the
+people hate him or laugh at him, and if we could somehow work a trick
+that showed a score of folk all meaning well to him and thinking well
+of him for once----  But Lord knows what."
+
+Then came an interruption in the shape of Dennis Masterman.  He was
+warm and somewhat annoyed.  He turned upon the guilty Rupert and
+Heathman.
+
+"This is too bad, you fellows!" he said.  "Here we're all waiting and
+waiting, and, despite my express wishes, you turn in to drink.  I blame
+you both."
+
+They expressed the liveliest regret, and Dennis was speedily mollified
+when he heard the great argument that had made these men forget the
+business of the night.
+
+"There's no time now," he answered, "but you're in the right to think
+of such a thing, and, after Christmas, I shall be only too glad to lend
+a hand.  A very admirable idea, and I'm glad you've hit on it."
+
+"Just a thimbleful of my wassail, your honour, for luck," said the
+host, and Masterman, protesting, took the glass handed to him.
+
+A sudden and violent explosion from Mr. Head made the clergyman nearly
+choke in the middle of his drinking.
+
+"I've got it!" cried Jack so loudly that the company started.  He
+slapped his leg at the same moment and then danced with exaggerated
+rejoicing.
+
+"Got what?  D.T.'s?" asked Heathman.
+
+"Go up along to Hawk House!  I beg and pray your reverence to go there
+first of all," urged Jack.  "Surely 'tis the very thing.  'Tis just
+what we was trying to light upon--summat that meant the showing of
+general friendship--summat that meant a bit of trouble and thought
+taken for him--all your blessed Christmas vartues put
+together--goodwill and all the rest of it.  If you was to steal up
+through the garden by the greenside and then burst forth like one
+man--why, there 'tis!  Who can deny 'tis a noble idea?  And you can go
+and holler to the quality afterwards."
+
+"Good for you, Jack!" answered Rupert.  "And I say ditto with all my
+heart if Mr. Masterman----"
+
+"Come, then," interrupted Dennis.  "The night will be gone before we
+start.  We'll go to Hawk House right away.  I can't gainsay such a
+wish, though it's a mile out of the beat we had planned.  Come!"
+
+The clergyman, with Rupert Baskerville and Heathman Lintern, hurried
+off, and a few of the younger men, accompanied by Jack Head, followed
+after them.
+
+"I must just pop in my house and lock up this dollop of money," said
+Jack; "then us'll go up over with the singers to see how the old Hawk
+takes it.  He'll be scared first; and then he'll try to look as if he
+was going to fling brickbats out of the windows, or set the dogs at us;
+and all the time we shall very well know that he's bubbling over with
+surprise to find what a number of respectable people have got to
+thinking well of him."
+
+The crowd of men and boys moved on ahead of Jack and his friends.  The
+shrill cries and laughter of the youngsters and a bass rumble of adult
+voices wakened night, and a dozen lanterns flashed among the company as
+they ascended into the silent darkness of Dartmoor.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+Humphrey Baskerville had hoped that his nephew might visit him on
+Christmas Eve; but he learned that it was impossible, because Rupert
+had joined the carol-singers, and would be occupied with them on a wide
+circle of song.
+
+After dark he sat alone until near seven o'clock; then Mrs. Hacker
+returned home and they took their supper together.
+
+The meal ended, she cleared it away and settled to her knitting.  Talk
+passed between them not unmarked by sentiment, for it concerned the
+past and related to those changes the year had brought.  On the
+following day Humphrey was to eat his Christmas dinner at Cadworthy,
+and Susan hoped to spend the festival with friends in Shaugh.
+
+"I've got Heathman and his mother to be of the company," said Mr.
+Baskerville.  "The daughters are both about their own business, and one
+goes to her sweetheart, and Cora's down to Plymouth, so we shall escape
+from them and no harm done.  But Heathman and his mother will be there.
+They are rather a puzzle to me, Susan."
+
+"No doubt," she replied.  "You'll go on puzzling yourself over this
+party or that till you've puzzled yourself into the workhouse.  Haven't
+you paid all the creditors to the last penny?"
+
+"Not so," he answered.  "That's where it lies.  A man's children and
+their mother are his first creditors, I should reckon.  They've got
+first call in justice, if not in law.  I judge that there's a fine bit
+of duty there, and the way they look at life--so much my own way
+'tis--makes me feel----  I wrote to that bad Cora yesterday.  She's
+working hard, I'm told."
+
+Susan sniffed.
+
+"So does the Devil," she said.  "'Tis all very well for you, I suppose;
+because when you wake up some morning and discover as you've got nought
+left in the world but your night-shirt, you'll go about to them you've
+befriended to seek for your own again--and lucky you'll be if you find
+it, or half of it; but what of me?"
+
+"You'll never want," he declared.  "You're the sort always to fall on
+your feet."
+
+"So's young Lintern for that matter.  No need to worry about him.  He's
+a lesson, if you like.  The man to be contented whatever haps."
+
+"I know it.  I've marked it.  I've learnt no little from him.  A big
+heart and a mighty power of taking life as it comes without fuss.
+There's a bad side to it, however, as well as a good.  I've worked that
+out.  It's good for a man to be contented, but no good for the place he
+lives in.  Contented people never stir up things, or throw light into
+dark corners, or let air into stuffy places.  Content means stagnation
+so oft as not."
+
+"They mind their own business, however."
+
+"They mostly do; and that's selfish wisdom so oft as not.  Now Jack
+Head's never content, and never will be."
+
+"Don't name that man on Christmas Eve!" said Mrs. Hacker testily.  "I
+hate to think of him any day of the week, for that matter."
+
+"Yet him and the east wind both be useful, little as you like 'em.  For
+my part, I've been a neighbour to the east wind all my life and shared
+its quality in the eyes of most folk--till now.  But the wind of God be
+turning out of the east for me, Susan."
+
+"So long as you be pleased with yourself----  And as for content,
+'tisn't a vartue, 'tis an accident, like red hair or bow legs.  You
+can't get it, nor yet get away from it, by taking thought."
+
+He nodded.
+
+"You're in the right there.  One man will make more noise if he
+scratches his finger than another if he breaks his leg.  'Tis part of
+the build of the mind, and don't depend on chance.  Same with
+misery--that's a matter of character, not condition, I know men that
+won't be wretched while they can draw their breath; and some won't be
+happy, though they've got thrice their share of good fortune.  No doubt
+that's how Providence levels up, and gives the one what he can't enjoy,
+to balance him with the other, who's got nought, but who's also got the
+blessed power of making happiness out of nought."
+
+"You've found the middle way, I suppose," she said; "and, like others
+who think they're on the sure road to happiness, you be pushing along
+too fast."
+
+"Running myself out of breath--eh?  But you're wrong.  I'm too cautious
+for that.  If I'm a miser, as the people still think here and there,
+then 'tis for peace I'm a miser.  'Twas always peace of mind that I
+hungered and hankered for, yet went in doubt if such a thing there was.
+And even now, though I seem three-parts along the road to it, I feel a
+cold fear often enough whether my way will stand all weathers.  It may
+break down yet."
+
+"Not while your money lasts," she answered with a short laugh.
+
+He followed his own thoughts in silence, and then spoke aloud again.
+
+"Restless as the fox, and hungrier than ever he was.  Every man's hand
+against me, as I thought, and mine held out to every man; but they
+wouldn't see it.  None to come to my hearth willingly, though 'twas
+always hot for 'em; none to look into my meaning, though that meaning
+was always meant for kindness.  But who shall blame any living creature
+that they thought me an enemy and not a friend?  How should they know?
+Didn't I hide the scant good that was in me, more careful than the bird
+her nest?"
+
+"They be up to your tricks now, anyway; and I've helped to show 'em
+better, though you may not believe it," declared Susan.  "What a
+long-tongued, well-meaning female could do I've done for you; and I
+always shall say so."
+
+"I know that," he said.  "There's no good thing on earth than can't be
+made better, but one thing.  And that's the thing in all Christian
+minds this night--I mean the thing called love.  You know it--you deal
+in it.  Out of your kind soul you've always felt friendly to me, and
+you saw what I had the wish but not the power to show to others; and
+you've done your share of the work to make the people like me better.
+Maybe 'tis mostly your doing, if we could but read into the truth of
+it."
+
+This work-a-day world must for ever fall far short of the humblest
+ethical ideal, and doubtless even those who fell prostrate at the shout
+of their Thunder Spirit, or worshipped the sun and the sea in the
+morning of days, guessed dimly how their kind lacked much of
+perfection.  To them the brooding soul of humanity revealed the road,
+though little knew those early men the length of it; little they
+understood that the goal of any faultless standard must remain a
+shifting ideal within reach of mind alone.
+
+At certain points Baskerville darkly suspected weak places in this new
+armour of light.  While his days had, indeed, achieved a consummation
+and orbicular completeness beyond all hope; while, looking backward, he
+could not fail to contrast noontide gloom with sunset light, the fierce
+equinox of autumn with this unfolding period of a gracious Indian
+summer now following upon it; yet, even here, there fell a narrow
+shadow of cloud; there wakened a wind not unedged.  In deep and secret
+thought he had drifted upon that negation of justice involved by the
+Golden Rule.  He saw, what every intellect worthy a name must see: that
+to do as you would be done by, to withhold the scourge from the guilty
+shoulder, to suffer the weed to flourish in the garden, to shield our
+fellow-men from the consequence of their evil or folly, is to put the
+individual higher than society, and to follow a precept that ethics in
+evolution has long rejected.
+
+But he shirked his dilemma: he believed it not necessary to pursue the
+paradox to its bitter end.  The Golden Rule he hypostatised into a
+living and an omnipresent creed; henceforth it was destined to be his
+criterion of every action; and to his doubting spirit he replied, that
+if not practicable in youth, if not convenient for middle age, this
+principle might most justly direct the performance and stimulate the
+thought of the old.  Thus he was, and knew himself, untrue to the
+clearer, colder conviction of his reasoning past; but in practice this
+defection brought a peace so exalted, a content so steady, a
+recognition so precious, that he rested his spirit upon it in faith and
+sought no further.
+
+Now he retraced his time, and made a brief and pregnant summary thereof
+for Susan's ear.
+
+"'Tis to be spoken in a score of words," he said.  "My life has been a
+storm in a teacup; but none the less a terrible storm for me until I
+won the grace to still it.  Port to the sailor-man be a blessed thing
+according to the voyage that's gone afore.  The worse that, the better
+the peace of the haven when he comes to it."
+
+She was going to speak, but a sound on the stillness of night stopped
+her.
+
+"Hark!" was all she said.
+
+Together they rose and went to his outer door.
+
+The gibbous moon sailed through a sky of thin cloud, and light fell
+dimly upon the open spaces, but sparkled in the great darkness of
+evergreen things about the garden.  Earth rolled night-hidden to the
+southern hills, and its breast was touched with sparks of flame, where
+glimmered those few habitations visible from this place.  A lattice of
+naked boughs meshed the moonlight under the slope of the hill, and from
+beneath their shadows ascended a moving thread of men and boys.  They
+broke the stillness with speech and laughter, and their red
+lantern-light struck to right and left and killed the wan moonshine as
+they came.
+
+"What's toward now?" asked Mr. Baskerville, staring blankly before him.
+
+"Why," cried Susan, "'tis the carol-singers without a doubt!  They'll
+want an ocean of beer presently, and where shall us get it from?"
+
+"Coming to me--coming to sing to _me_!" he mumbled.  "Good God, a thing
+far beyond my utmost thought is this!"
+
+The crowd rolled clattering up, and the woman stayed to welcome them;
+but the man ran back into his house, sat down in his chair, bent
+forward to listen and clasped his hands tightly between his knees.
+
+Acute emotion marked his countenance; but this painful tension passed
+when out of the night there rolled the melodious thunder of an ancient
+tune.
+
+"Singing for me!" he murmured many times while the old song throbbed.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Three Brothers, by Eden Phillpotts
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 58355 ***