 58 Master Huckaback's Secret Knowing Master Huckaback to be a man of his word, as well as one who would have others I was careful to be in good time the next morning by the side of the wizard's sloth. I am free to admit that the name of the place bore a feeling of uneasiness and a love of distance in some measure to my heart. But I did my best not to think of this. Only I thought at a wise precaution, and due for the sake of my mother and Lorna, to load my gun with a dozen slugs made from the lead of the old church porch, laid by long-sense against witchcraft. I am well aware that some people now begin to doubt about witchcraft, or at any rate feign to do so, being desirous to disbelieve whatever they are afraid of. This spirit is growing too common among us, and will end, unless we put a stop to it, in the destruction of all religion. And as regards witchcraft, a man is bound either to believe in it or to disbelieve the Bible. For even in the New Testament, discarding many things of the old, such as sacrifices and Sabbath and fasting and other miseries, witchcraft is clearly spoken of as a thing that must continue, that the evil one be not utterly robbed of his vested interests. Hence let no one tell me that witchcraft is done away with, for I will meet him with Saint Paul, then whom no better man and few less superstitious can be found in all the Bible. Feeling these things more in those days than I feel them now, I fetched a goodish compass round by the way of the clove and rocks, rather than cross blackbarrow down in a reckless and unholy manner. There were several spots upon that down, cursed and smitten and blasted, as if thunderbolts had fallen there and Satan sat to keep them warm. At any rate it was good, as everyone acknowledged, not to wonder there too much, even with a doctor of divinity on one arm and of medicine upon the other. Therefore I, being all alone and on foot, as seemed the wisest, preferred a course of roundabout, and starting about eight o'clock without mentioning my business, arrived at the mouth of the deep descent, such as John Fry described it. Now this, though I have not spoken of it, was not my first time of being there. For although I could not bring myself to spy upon Uncle Rubin, as John Fry had done, yet I thought it no ill manners, after he had left our house, to have a look at the famous place, where the malefactor came to life, at least in John's opinion. At that time, however, I saw nothing except the great, ugly black morass, with the grisly reeds around it, and I did not care to go very near it, much less to pry on the further side. Now, on the other hand, I was bent to get at the very bottom of this mystery, if there were any, having less fear of witch or wizard, with a man of Uncle Rubin's wealth to take my part and see me through. So I rattled the ramrod down my gun, just to know if the charge were right after so much walking, and finding it full six inches deep, as I like to have it, went boldly down the steep gorge of rock, with a firm resolve to shoot any witch, unless it were good mother Meldrum. Nevertheless, to my surprise, all was quiet and fair to look at, in the decline of the narrow way, with great stalked ferns coming forth like trees, yet hanging like cobwebs over one. And along one side, a little spring was getting rid of its waters. Any man might stop and think, or he might go on and think, and in either case there was none to say that he was making a fool of himself. When I came to the foot of this ravine, and over against the great black sloth, there was no sign of Master Huckaback, nor of any other living man except myself, in the silence. Therefore, I sat in a niche of rock, gazing at the sloth, and pondering the old tradition about it. They say that in the ancient times, a mighty necromancer lived in the wilderness of Exmor. Here, by spell and incantation, he built himself a strong high palace, eight-sided like a spider's web, and standing on a central steep, so that neither man nor beast could cross the moors without his knowledge. If he wished to rob and slay a traveler, or to have wild ox or stag for food, he had nothing more to do than sit at one of his eight windows, and point his unholy book at him. Any moving creature at which that book was pointed must obey the call, and come from whatever distance if sighted once by the wizard. This was a bad condition of things, and all the country groaned under it, and Exmor, although the most honest place that a man could wish to live in, was beginning to get a bad reputation, and all through that vile wizard. No man durst even go to steal a sheep or a pony, or so much as a deer, for dinner, lest he should be brought to book by a far bigger rogue than he was. And this went on for many years, though they prayed to God to obey it. But at last, when the wizard was getting fat and haughty upon his high stomach, a mighty deliverance came to Exmor, and a warning, and a memory. For one day the sorcerer gazed from his window, facing the southeast of the compass, and he yawned, having killed so many men that now he was weary of it. Ifacons, he cried, or some such oath, both profane and uncomely. I see a man on the verge of the skyline, going along laboriously. A pilgrim, I trow, or some such fool, with the nails of his boots inside them. Too thin to be worth eating, but I will have him for the fun of the thing, and most of those saints have got money. With these words he stretched forth his legs on a stool, and pointed the book of heathenish spells back upwards at the pilgrim. Now this good pilgrim was plodding along, soberly and religiously, with a pound of flints in either boot, and not an ounce of meat inside him. He felt the spell of the wicked book, but only as a horse might feel a g-wug addressed to him. It was in the power of this good man, either to go on, or turn aside, and see out the wizard's meaning. And for a moment he halted and stood, like one in two minds about a thing. Then the wizard clapped one cover two in a jocular and insulting manner, and the sound of it came to the pilgrim's ear, about five miles in the distance, like a great gun fired at him. By our lady, he cried, I must see to this, although my poor feet have no skin below them. I will teach this heathen miscreant how to scoff at Glastonbury. Thereupon he turned his course, and plowed along through the moors and bogs towards the eight-sided palace. The wizard sat on his chair of comfort, and with the rankest contempt observed the holy man plowing towards him. He has something good in his wallet, I trow, said the black thief to himself. These fellows get always the pick of the wine and the best of a woman's money. Then he cried, Come in, come in, good sir, as he always did to every one. Bad sir, I will not come in, said the pilgrim. Neither shall you come out again. Here are the bones of all you have slain, and here shall your own bones be. Hurry me not, cried the sorcerer. That is a thing to think about. How many miles hast thou travelled this day? But the pilgrim was too wide awake, for if he had spoken of any number, bearing no cross upon it, the necromancer would have had him, like a ball at Bando play. The necromancer would have had him, like a ball at Bando play. Therefore he answered, as truly as need be, By the grace of our lady, nine. Now nine is the crossest of all cross-numbers, and full to the lips of all crochets. So the wizard staggered back, and thought, and inquired again with bravery. Where can you find a man and wife, one going uphill, and one going down, and not a word spoken between them? In a cucumber plant, said the modest saint, blushing even to think of it, and the wizard knew he was done for. You have tried me with ungodly questions, continued the honest pilgrim, with one hand still over his eyes, as he thought of the feminine cucumber. And now I will ask you a pure one. To whom of mankind have you ever done good, since God saw fit to make you? The wizard thought, but could quote no one, and he looked at the saint, and the saint at him, and both their hearts were trembling. Can you mention only one, as the saint, pointing a piece of the true cross at him, hoping he might cling to it? Even a little child will do, try to think of someone. The earth was rocking beneath their feet, and the palace windows darkened on them with a tint of blood. For now the saint was come inside, hoping to save the wizard. If I must tell the pure truth, said the wizard, looking up at the arches of his windows, I can tell of only one to whom I ever have done good. One will do, one is quite enough. Be quick before the ground opens. The name of one, and this cross will save you. Lay your thumb on the end of it. Nay, that I cannot do, great saint, the devil have mercy upon me. All this while the palace was sinking, and blackness coming over them. Thou hast all but done for thyself, said the saint, with a glory burning round his head, by that last invocation, yet give us the name of the one, my friend, if one there be, it will save thee with the cross upon thy breast. All is crashing round us, dear brother, who is that one? My own self, cried the wretched wizard. Then there is no help for thee, and with that the honest saint went upward, and the wizard, and all his palace, and even the crag that bore it, sank to the bowels of the earth. And over them was nothing left except a black bog, fringe with reed, of the ten of the wizard's whiskers. The saint, however, was all right after sleeping off the excitement, and he founded a chapel some three miles westward, and there he lies with his holy relic, and thither in after ages came, as we all come home at last, both my Lorna's Aunt Sabina and her guardian and Ser Doon. While yet I dwelled upon this strange story, wondering if it all were true, and why such things do not happen now, a man on horseback appeared as suddenly as if he had risen out of the earth, on the other side of the great black sloth. At first I was a little scared, my mind being in the tune for wonders, but presently the white hair, wider from the blackness of the bog between us, showed me that it was Uncle Rubin come to look for me that way. Then I left my chair of rock, and waved my hat and shouted to him, and the sound of my voice among the crags and lonely corners frightened me. Old Master Huckaback made no answer, but, so far as I could guess, beckoned me to come to him. There was just room between the fringe of reed and the belt of rock around it, for a man going very carefully to escape that horrible pit-hole, and so I went round to the other side, and there found open space enough with stunted bushes and starveling trees and straggling tufts of rushes. You fool, you are frightened, said Uncle Ben, as he looked at my face after shaking hands. I want a young man of steadfast courage, as well as of strength and silence, and after what I heard of the battle at Glendoon I thought I might trust you for courage. So you may, said I, wherever I see my enemy, but not where witch and wizard be. Tush, great fool, cried Master Huckaback. The only witch or wizard here is the one that bewitcheth all men. Now fasten up my horse, John Red, and not too near the slaw-flad. Ah, we have chosen our entrance wisely. Two good horsemen and their horses, coming hither to spy us out, are gone mining on their own account, and their last account it is, down this good wizard's bog-hole. With these words Uncle Rubin clutched the mane of his horse and came down, as a man does when his legs are old and as I myself begin to do at this time of writing. I offered a hand, but he was vexed and would have not to do with it. Now follow me, step for step, he said, when I had tethered his horse to a tree. The ground is not death, like the wizard's hole, but many parts are treacherous. I know it well by this time. Without any more ado he led me in and out the marshy places, to a great round hole or shaft, bratticed up with timber. I never had seen the light before, and wondered how they could want a well with so much water on every side. Around the mouth were a few little heaps of stuff unused to the daylight, and I thought at once of the tales I had heard concerning mines in Cornwall and the silver cup at Combe Martin sent to the Queen Elizabeth. We had a tree across it, John, said Uncle Ruben, smiling grimly at my sudden shrink from it. But some rogue came spying here, just as one of our men went up. He was frightened half out of his life, I believe, and never ventured to come again. But we put the blame of that upon you, and I see that we were wrong, John. Here he looked at me with keen eyes, though weak. You were altogether wrong, I answered. Am I mean enough to spy upon any one dwelling with us? And more than that, Uncle Ruben, it was mean of you to suppose it. All ideas are different, replied the old man to my heat, like a little worn-out rill running down a smithy. You, with your strength and youth and all that, are inclined to be romantic. I take things as I have known them, going on for seventy years. Now will you come and meet the wizard, or does your courage fail you? My courage must be none, said I, if I would not go where you go, sir. He said no more, but signed to me to lift a heavy wooden corb with an iron loop across it, and sunk in a little pit of earth, the yard or so, from the mouth of the shaft. I raised it, and by his direction, dropped it into the throat of the shaft, where it hung and shook from a great cross-beam laid at the level of the earth. A very stout, thick rope was fastened to the handle of the corb, and ran across a pulley hanging from the center of the beam, and thence out of sight in the nether places. I will first ascend, he said. Your weight is too great for safety. When the bucket comes up again, follow me, if your heart is good. Then he whistled down, with a quick sharp noise, and a whistle from below replied, and he clumped into the vehicle, and the rope ran through the pulley, and Uncle Ben went merrily down, and was out of sight before I had time to think of him. Now, being left on the bank like that, and in full sight of the goodly heaven, I wrestled hard with my flesh and blood about going down into the pit-hole, and but for the pale shame of the thing, that a white-headed man should adventure so, and green youth doubt about it, never could I have made up my mind, for I do love air and heaven. However, at last up came the bucket, and with a short sad prayer, I went into whatever might happen. My teeth would shatter, do all I could, but the strength of my arms was with me, and by them I held on the grimy rope, and so eased the foot of the corb, which threatened to go away fathoms under me. Of course, I should still have been safe enough, being like an egg in an egg-cup, too big to care for the bottom. Still, I wished it all should be done in good order, without excitement. The scoopings of the side grew black, and the patch of sky above more blue, as with many thoughts of Lorna, a long way underground, I sank. Then I was fetched up at the bottom with a jerk and rattle, and but for holding by the rope so must have tumbled over. Two great torches of bale-resin showed me all the darkness, one being held by Uncle Ben, and the other by a short square man with a face which seemed well-known to me. Hail to the world of gold, John Rid, said Master Huckaback, smiling in the old, dry manner. Bigger coward never came down the shaft, now did he, car-fax. They be all alike, said the short square man, first time they do's it. May I go to heaven, I cried, which is a thing quite out of sight, for I always have a vein of humor, too small to be followed by anyone. If ever again, of my own accord, I go so far away from it. Uncle Ben grinned less at this than at the way I knocked my shin and getting out of the bucket, and as for Master Car-Fax, he would not even dane to smile, and he seemed to look upon my entrance as an interloping. For my part, I had not to do, after rubbing my bruised leg, accept to look about me, so far as the dullness of life, accept to look about me, so far as the dullness of life would help. And herein I seemed, like a mouse in a trap, able no more than to run to and fro, and knock himself and stare at things. For here was a little channel grooved with posts on either side of it, and ending with a heap of darkness, whence the sight came back again, and there was a scooped place, like a funnel, but pouring only to darkness. So I waited for somebody to speak first, not seeing my way to anything. You seemed to be disappointed, John, said Uncle Rubin, looking blue by the light of the flambeau. Did you expect to see the roof of gold and the sides of gold and the floor of gold, John rid? Ha-ha! cried Master Car-Fax. I reckon her did, no doubt her did. You are wrong, I replied, but I did expect to see something better than dirt and darkness. Come on then, my lad, and we will show you something better. We want your great arm on here, for a job that has beaten the whole of us. With these words, Uncle Ben led the way along a narrow passage, roofed with rock and floored with slate-colored shale and shingle, and winding in and out until we stopped at a great stone block, or boulder, lying across the floor, and as large as my mother's best-oken wardrobe. Beside it were several sledgehammers, battered, and some with broken helves. Thou great villain, cried Uncle Ben, giving the boulder a little kick. I believe thy time has come at last. Now, John, give us a sample of the things they tell of thee. Take the biggest of them sledgehammers and crack this rogue in two for us. We have tried at him for a fortnight, and he is a nut worth cracking. But we have no man who can swing that hammer, though all in the mine have handled it. I will do my very best, said I, pulling off my coat and waistcoat, as if I were going to wrestle. But I fear he will prove too tough for me. A. that her wool, grunted Master Carfax. Lack the acarnishmen, and a beg one too, not a little charp such as I be. There be no man outside carnwall, as can crack that boulder. Bless my heart, I answered, but I know something of you, my friend, or at any rate of your family. Well, I have beaten most of your cornish men, though not my place to talk of it. But mind, if I crack this rock for you, I must have some of the gold inside it. D. does think to see the gold come tumbling out like the kernel of a nut, thou zany, as uncle Ben petishly. Now wilt thou crack it, or wilt thou not? For I believe thou canst do it, though only a lad of summer set. Uncle Rubin showed, by saying this, and by his glance at Carfax, that he was proud of his county, and would be disappointed for it if I failed to crack the boulder. So I begged him to stoop his torch a little, that I might examine my subject. To me there appeared to be nothing at all remarkable about it, except that it sparkled here and there, when the flash of the flame fell upon it. A great obstinate oblong sullen stone. How could it be worth the breaking, except for making roads with? Nevertheless I took up the hammer, and swinging it far behind my head, fetched it down with all my power upon the middle of the rock. The roof above rang mightily, and the echo went down delven galleries, so that all the miners flocked to know what might be doing. But Master Carfax only smiled, although the blow shook him where he stood, for behold the stone was still unbroken, and as firm as ever. Then I smote it again, with no better fortune, and uncle Ben looked vexed and angry, but all the miners grinned with triumph. This little tool is too light, I cried, one of you give me a piece of strong cord. Then I took two more of the weightiest hammers, and lashed them fast to the back of mine, not so as to strike, but to burden the fall. Having made this firm, and with room to grasp the handle of the largest one only, for the helves of the others were shorter, I smiled at uncle Ben, and whirled the mighty implement round my head, just to try whether I could manage it. Upon that the miners gave a cheer, being honest men, and desirous of seeing fair play between this shameless stone, as Dan Homer calls it, and me with my hammer hammering. Then I swung me on high to the swing of the sledge, as a thresher bends back to the rise of his flail, and with all my power descending delivered the ponderous onset. Crashing and crushed the great stone fell over, and threads of sparkling gold appeared in the jagged sides of the breakage. How now, Simon Carfax, cried uncle Ben triumphantly, wilt thou find a man in Cornwall can do the like of that? A and more, he answered, however it be pretty fair for a lad of these outlandish parts. Get your rollers, my lads, and lead it to the crushing engine. I was glad to have been of some service to them, for it seems that this great boulder had been too large to be drawn along the gallery and too hard to crack. But now they moved it very easily, taking piece by piece, and carefully picking up the fragments. Thou hast done us a good turn, my lads, said uncle Rubin, as the others passed out of sight at the corner, and now I will show thee the bottom of a very wondrous mystery, but we must not do it more than once, for the time of day is the wrong one. The whole affair being a mystery to me, and far beyond my understanding, I followed him softly, without a word, yet thinking very heavily, and longing to be above ground again. He led me through small passages to a hollow place near the descending shaft, where I saw a most extraordinary monster fit it up. In form it was like a great coffee mill, such as I had seen in London only a thousand times larger, and with heavy windlass to work it. Put in a barrel-load of the smolder, said uncle Ben, to Carfax, and let them work the crank for John to understand a thing or two. At this time of day cried Simon Carfax, and the watching as has been elate. However, he did it without more remonstrance, pouring into the scuttle at the top of the machine about a basketful of broken rock, and then a dozen men went to the wheel, and forced it round as sailors do. Upon that such a hideous noise arose, as I never should have believed any creature capable of making, and I ran to the well of the mine for air, and to ease my ears if possible. Enough, enough, shouted uncle Ben, by the time I was nearly deafened. We will digest our goodly boulder after the devil has come abroad for his evening work. Now, John, not a word about what you have learned, but henceforth you will not be frightened by the noise we make at dusk. I could not deny but what this was very clever management. If they could not keep the echoes of the upper air from moving, the wisest plan was to open their valves during the discouragement of the falling evening, when folk would rather be driven away than drawn into the wilds and quagmires by a sound so deep and awful coming through the darkness. Although there are very ancient tales of gold being found upon Exmor, in lumps and solid hummocks, and of men who slew one another for it, this deep digging and great labour seemed to me a dangerous and unholy enterprise, and Master Huckaback confessed that up to the present time his two partners and himself, for they proved to be three adventurers, had put into the earth more gold than they had taken out of it. Nevertheless he felt quite sure that it must in a very short time succeed and pay them back in a hundredfold, and he pressed me with great earnestness to join them and work there as much as I could without moving my mother's suspicions. I asked him how they had managed so long to carry on without discovery, and he said that this was partly through the wildness of the neighbourhood and the legends that frightened people of a superstitious turn, partly through their own great caution and the manner of fetching both supplies and implements by night, but most of all they had to thank the troubles of the period, the suspicions of rebellion and the terror of the dunes, which, like the wizard I was speaking of, kept folk from being too inquisitive where they had no business. The slough, moreover, had helped them well, both by making their access dark, and yet more by swallowing up and concealing all that was cast from the mouth of the pit. Once, before the attack on Glen Dune, they had a narrow escape from the king's commissioner, for Captain Stickles, having heard no doubt the story of John Fry, went with half a dozen troopers on purpose to search the neighbourhood. Now, if he had ridden alone, most likely he would have discovered everything, but he feared to venture so having suspicion of a trap. Coming as they did in a company, all mounted and conspicuous, the watchman, who was posted now on the top of the hill, almost every day since John Fry's appearance, could not help aspiring them, miles distant, over the moorland. He watched them under the shade of his hand, and presently ran down the hill and raised a great commotion. Then Simon Carfax and all his men came up and made things natural, removing every sign of work, and finally, sinking underground, drew across the mouth of the pit a hurdle batched with sedge and heather. Only Simon himself was left behind, ensconced in a hole of the crags to observe the doings of the enemy. Captain Stickles rode very bravely, with all his men clattering after him, down the rocky pass and even to the margin of the sloth. And there they stopped and held counsel, for it was a perilous thing to risk the passage upon horseback, between the treacherous brink and the cliff, unless one knew it thoroughly. Stickles, however, and one follower, carefully felt the way along, having their horses well in hand, and bearing a rope to draw them out, in case of being foundered. Then they spurred across the rough, boggy land, farther away than the shaft was. Here the ground lay jagged and shaggy, wrought up with high tufts of reed, or scragged with stunted brushwood. And between the ups and downs, which met anybody anyhow, green-covered places tempted the foot, and black bog holes discouraged it. It is not to be marveled at that amid such places this, for the first time visited, the horses were a little skeery, and their riders partook of the feeling as all good riders do. In and out of the tufts they went, with their eyes dilating, wishing to be out of harm, if conscience were but satisfied. And of this tufty, flaggy ground, pocked with bogs and boglets, one as special nature is that it will not hold impressions. Seeing thus no track of men, nor anything but marshwork and stormwork and of the seasons, these two honest men rode back and were glad to do so. For above them hung the mountains, cowled with fog, and seamed with storm, and around them desolation, and below their feet the grave. Hence they went, with all good will, and vowed for ever afterwards that fear of a simple place like that was only too ridiculous. So they all rode home with mutual praises, and their courage well approved, and the only result of the expedition was to confirm John Fry's repute as a bigger liar than ever. Now I had enough of that underground work, as before related, to last me for a year to come. Neither would I, for the sake of gold, have ever stepped into that bucket of my own good will again. But when I told Lorna, whom I could trust in any matter of secrecy, as if she had never been a woman, all about my great dissent, and the honeycombing of the earth, and the mournful noise it even tied, when the gold was under the crusher and bewailing the mischief it must do, then Lorna's chief desire was to know more about Simon Carfax. It must be Arkwenny's father, she cried, the man who disappeared underground, and whom she has ever been seeking. How grieved the poor little thing will be if it should turn out, after all, that he left his child on purpose. I can hardly believe it, can you, John? Well, I replied, all men are wicked, more or less, to some extent, and no man may say otherwise. For I did not wish to commit myself to an opinion about Simon, lest I might be wrong, and Lorna think less of my judgment. But being resolved to see this out, and do a good turn, if I could, to Gwenny, who had done me many a good one, I begged my Lorna to say not a word of this matter to the handmaiden, until I had further searched it out, and to carry out this resolve I went again to the place of business where they were grinding gold as freely as an apothecary at his pills. Having now true right of entrance, and being known to the watchman, and regarded, since I cracked the boulder, as one who could pay his footing, and perhaps would be the master, when Uncle Ben should be choked with money, I found the corb sent up to me rather sooner than I wished it. For the smell of the places underground, and the way men's eyes came out of them with links and brands and flambeau, instead of God's light to look at, were to me a point of caution rather than of pleasure. No doubt but what some men enjoy it, being born, like worms, to dig and to live in their own scoopings. Yet even the worms come up sometimes after a good soft shower of rain, and hold discourse with one another, whereas these men, and the horses let down, come above ground never. And the changing of the sky is half the change our nature calls for. Earth we have, and all its produce, moving from the first appearance, and the hope with infant's eyes, through the bloom of beauty's promise to the rich and ripe fulfillment, and the falling back to rest. Sea we have, with all its wonder shed on eyes and ears and heart, and the thought of something more. But without the sky to look at, what would earth and sea and even our own selves be to us? Do we look at earth with hope? Yes, for victuals only. Do we look at sea with hope? Yes, that we may escape it. At the sky alone, though questioned with the doubts of sunshine or scattered with uncertain stars, at the sky alone we look with pure hope and with memory. Hence it always hurt my feelings when I got into that bucket, with my small clothes turned up over and a kerchief round my hat. But knowing that my purpose was sound and my motives pure, I let the sky grow to a little blue hole and then to nothing over me. At the bottom Master Carfax met me, being captain of the mine, and desirous to know my business. He wore a loose sack round his shoulders and his beard was two feet long. My business is to speak with you, I answered rather sternly, for this man, who is nothing more than Uncle Ruben's servant, had carried things too far with me, showing no respect whatever, and though I did not care for much, I liked to receive a little even in my early days. Quoom into the muck hole, then, was his gracious answer, and he led me into a filthy cell where the miners changed their jackets. Simon Carfax, I began, with a manner to discourage him, I fear you are a shallow fellow and not worth my trouble. Then don't take it, he replied, I want no man's trouble. For your sake I would not, I answered, but for your daughter's sake I will, the daughter whom you left to starve so pitifully in the wilderness. The man stared at me with his pale gray eyes, whose color was lost from candlelight, and his voice as well as his body shook while he cried. It is a lie, man! No daughter and no son have I. Nor was ever child of mine left to starve in the wilderness. You are too big for me to tackle, and that makes you a coward for saying it. His hands were playing with a pickaxe-hell, as if he longed to have me under it. Perhaps I have wronged you, Simon, I answered very softly, for the sweat upon his forehead shone in the smoky torchlight. If I have, I crave your pardon. But did you not bring up from Cornwall a little maid named Gweny, and supposed to be your daughter? Ay, and she was my daughter, my last and only child of five, and for her I would give this mine and all the gold will ever come from it. You shall have her without either mine or gold, if you only proved to me that you did not abandon her. Abandon her? I abandon Gweny? he cried with such a rage of scorn that I at once believed him. They told me she was dead and crushed and buried in the drift here, and half my heart died with her. The Almighty blast their mining work, if the scoundrels lied to me. The scoundrels must have lied to you, I answered, with a spirit fired by his heat of fury. The maid is living and with us. Come up, and you shall see her. Rig the bucket, he shouted out along the echoing gallery, and then he fell against the wall, and through the grimy sack I saw the heaving of his breast, as I have seen my opponent's chest in a long hard bout of wrestling. For my part I could do no more than hold my tongue and look at him. Without another word we rose to the level of the Moors and Myers. Neither would Master Carfax speak, as I led him across the barrows. In this he was welcome to his own way, for I do love silence, so little harm can come of it. And though Gweny was no beauty, her father might be fond of her. So I put him in the cowhouse, not to frighten the little maid, and the folding shutters over him, such as we used at the bee stings. And he listened to my voice outside, and held on, and preserved himself. For now he would have scooped the earth as cattle do at yearning time, and as meekly and as patiently, to have his child restored to him. Not to make long tail of it, for this thing is beyond me, through want of true experience. I went and fetched his Gweny forth from the back kitchen, where she was fighting, as usual, with our Betty. Come along, you little Vic, I said, for so we called her. I have a message to you, Gweny, from the Lord in heaven. Don't ye talk about he, she answered. Her have long forgotten me. That he has never done, you stupid, come and see who is in the cowhouse. Gweny knew, she knew in a moment, looking into my eyes she knew, and hanging back for me to sigh, she knew it even better. She had not much elegance of emotion, being flat and square all over, but nonetheless for that her heart came quick, and her words came slowly. Oh, Yon, you are too good to cheat me. Is it joke you are putting upon me? I answered her with a gaze alone, and she tucked up her clothes and followed me because the road was dirty. Then I opened the door just wide enough for the child to go to her father, and left those two to have it out, as might be most natural, and they took a long time about it. Meanwhile, I needs must go and tell my Lorna all the matter, and her joy was almost as great as if she herself had found a father. And the wonder of the whole was this, that I got all the credit, of which not a thousandth part belonged by right and reason to me. Yet so it almost always is. If I work for good dessert, and slave, and lie awake at night, and spend my unborn life in dreams, not a blink nor wink nor inkling of my labor ever tells, it would have been better to leave unburned and to keep undevoured the fuel and the food of life. But if I have labored not, only acted by some impulse, whim, caprice, or anything, or even not acting at all, only letting things float by, piled upon me commendations, bravos, and applauses, almost worked me up to tempt once again, though sick of it, the ill luck of deserving. Without intending any harm, and meaning only good indeed, I had now done serious wrong to Uncle Ruben's prospects. For Captain Carfax was full as angry at the trick played on him, as he was happy in discovering the falsehood and the fraud of it. Nor could I help agreeing with him, when he told me all of it, as with tears in his eyes he did, and ready to be my slave henceforth. I could not forbear from owning that it was a low and heartless trick, unworthy of men who had families, and the recoil whereof was well deserved whatever it might end in. For when this poor man left his daughter asleep as he supposed, and having his food and change of clothes and Sunday hat to see to, he meant to return in an hour or so, and settle about her sustenance in some house of the neighborhood. But this was the very thing of all things which the leaders of the enterprise, who had brought him up from Cornwall for his noted skill in metals, were determined, whether by fair means or foul, to stop at the very outset. Secrecy being their main object, what chance could there be of it if the miners were allowed to keep their children in the neighborhood? Hence, on the plea of feasting, Simon, they kept him drunk for three days and three nights, assuring him, whenever he had gleams enough to ask for her, that his daughter was as well as could be and enjoying herself with the children. Not wishing the maid to see him tipsy, he pressed the matter no further, but applied himself to the bottle again, and drank her health with pleasure. However, after three days of this, his constitution rose against it, and he became quite sober, with a certain lowness of heart, moreover, and a sense of error, and his first desire to write himself an easiest way to do it was by exerting parental authority upon Gweny. Possessed with this intention, for he was not a sweet-tempered man, and his head was aching sadly, he sought for Gweny high and low, first with threats, and then with fears, and then with tears and wailing, and so he became, to the other men, a warning and a great annoyance. Therefore they combined to swear what seemed a very likely thing, and might be true for all they knew, to wit, that Gweny had come to seek for her father down the shaft-hole, and, peering too eagerly into the dark, had toppled forward and gone down, and lain at the bottom as dead as a stone. And thou, being so happy with drink, the villains finished up to him, and, getting drunker every day, we thought it shame to trouble thee, and we buried the wench in the lower drift, and no use to think more of her, but come and have a glass, Simon. But Simon Carfax swore that drink had lost him his wife, and now had lost him the last of his five children, and would lose him his own soul if further he went on with it, and from that day to his death he never touched strong drink again. Nor only this, but being soon appointed captain of the mine, he allowed no man on any pretext to bring cordials thither, and to this and his stern hard rule and stealthy secret management, as much as to good luck and place, might it be attributed that scarcely any but themselves had dreamed about this ex-moor mine. As for me, I had no ambition to become a miner, and the state to which gold-seeking had brought poor Uncle Ben was not at all encouraging. My business was to till the ground and tend the growth that came of it, and store the fruit in heaven's good time, rather than to scoop and burrow like a weasel or a rat for the yellow root of evil. Moreover, I was led from home between the hay and corn-harvest, when we often have a week to spare. By a call there was no resisting, unless I gave up all regard for wrestling and for my county. Now here many persons may take me amiss, and there always has been some confusion, which people who ought to have known better have wrought into subject of quarreling. By birth it is true and cannot be denied that I am a man of Somerset. Nevertheless, by breed I am, as well as by education, a son of Devon also. And just as both of our two counties vowed that Glendon was none of theirs but belonged to the other one, so now, each with hot claim and jangling, leading even to blows sometimes, asserted and would swear to it, as I became more famous, that John Rid was of its own producing, bread of its own true blood, and basely stolen by the other. Now I have not judged it in any way needful or even becoming indelicate to enter into my wrestling adventures or describe my progress. The whole thing is so different from Lorna and her gentle manners and her style of walking. Moreover, I must seem, even to kind people, to magnify myself so much, or at least attempt to do it, that I have scratched out written pages through my better taste and sense. Neither will I upon this head make any difference even now being simply betrayed into mentioning the matter because bare truth requires it in the tale of Lorna's fortunes. For a mighty giant had arisen in a part of Cornwall, and his calf was twenty-five inches round, and the breadth of his shoulders two feet and a quarter, and his stature seven feet and three quarters. Round the chest he was seventy inches, and his hand a foot across, and there were no scales strong enough to judge of his weight in the marketplace. Now this man, or I should say his backers and his boasters, for the giant himself was modest, sent me a brave and haughty challenge to meet him in the ring at Bodmentown on the first day of August, or else to return my champion's belt to them by the messenger. It is no use to deny but that I was greatly dashed and scared at first. For my part I was only, when measured without clothes on, sixty inches round the breast, and round the calf scarce twenty-one, only two feet across the shoulders, and in height not six and three quarters. However my mother would never believe that this man could beat me, and Lorna being of the same mind I resolved to go and try him, as they would pay all expenses and a hundred pounds if I conquered him, so confident were those Cornish men. Now this story is too well known for me to go through it again and again. Every child in Devonshire knows, and his grandson will know, the song which some clever man made of it after I had treated him to water and to lemon and a little sugar and a drop of odivie. Enough that I had found the giant quite as big as they had described him, and enough to terrify anyone, but trusting in my practice and study of the art, I resolved to try a back with him, and when my arms were round him once the giant was but a farthing-gale put into the vice of a blacksmith. The man had no bones, his frames sank in, and I was afraid of crushing him. He lay on his back and smiled at me, and I begged his pardon. Now this affair made a noise at the time, and redounded so much to my credit that I was deeply grieved at it, because deserving none. For I do like a good strife and struggle, and the doubt makes the joy of victory, whereas in this case I might as well have been sent for a match with a hay-mow. However, I got my hundred pounds and made up my mind to spend every farthing in presence for Mother and Lorna. For Annie was married by this time, and long before I went away, as needs scarcely be said, perhaps if anyone follows the weeks and the months, the wedding was quiet enough, except for everybody's good wishes, and I desire not to dwell upon it, because it grieved me in many ways. But now that I had tried to hope the very best for dear Annie, a deeper blow than could have come even through her awaited me. For after that visit to Cornwall, and with my prize money about me, I came on foot from Oakhampton to Oar, so as to save a little sum towards my time of marrying. For Lorna's fortune I would not have. Small or great I would not have it. Only if there were no denying we would devote the whole of it to charitable uses, as Master Peter Blundell had done, and perhaps the future ages would endeavor to be grateful. Lorna and I had settled this question at least twice a day on the average, and each time with more satisfaction. Now coming into the kitchen with all my cash in my breeches pocket, golden guineas with an elephant on them for the stamp of the guinea company, I found dear mother most heartily glad to see me safe and sound again, for she had dreaded that giant and dreamed of him, and she never asked me about the money. Lizzie also was softer and more gracious than usual, especially when she saw me pour guineas like peppercorns into the pudding basin, but by the way they hung about I knew that something was gone wrong. Where is Lorna, I asked at length after trying not to ask it. I want her to come and see my money, she never saw so much before. Alas, said mother with a heavy sigh, she will see a great deal more, I fear, and a deal more than is good for her. Whether you ever see her again will depend upon her nature, John. What do you mean, mother? Have you quarreled? Why does not Lorna come to me? Am I never to know? Now, John, be not so impatient, my mother replied quite calmly, for in truth she was jealous of Lorna. You could wait now very well, John, if it were till this day week for the coming of your mother, John, and yet your mother is your best friend, who can ever fill her place. Thinking of her future absence, mother turned away and cried, and the box-iron singed the blanket. Now, said I, being wild by this time, Lizzie, you have a little sense, will you tell me where is Lorna? The lady, Lorna Dougal, said Lizzie, screwing up her lips as of the title were too grand, is gone to London, brother John, and not likely to come back again. We must try to get on without her. You little something, I cried, which I dare not write down here, as all you are too good for such language. But Lizzie's lip provoked me so. My Lorna gone, my Lorna gone, and without goodbye to me even? It is your spite has sickened her. You are quite mistaken there, she replied. How can folk of low degree have either spite or liking towards the people so far above them? The lady Lorna Dougal is gone, because she could not help herself, and she wept enough to break ten hearts if hearts are ever broken, John. Darling Lizzie, how good you are, I cried, without noticing her sneer. Tell me all about it, dear, tell me every word she said. That will not take long, said Lizzie, quite as unmoved by soft coaxing as by urgent cursing. The lady spoke very little to anyone, except indeed to mother, and to Gweny Carfax, and Gweny is gone with her, so that the benefit of that is lost. But she left a letter for poor John, as in charity she called him. How grand she looked, to be sure, with the fine clothes on that were come for her. Where is the letter, you utter vixen? Oh, may you have a husband, who will thresh it out of you, and starve it and swear it out of you, was the meaning of my implication. But Lizzie, not dreaming as yet of such things, could not understand me, and was rather thankful. Therefore she answered quietly. The letter is in the little cupboard, near the head of Lady Lorna's bed, where she used to keep the diamond necklace, which we can try to get stolen. Without another word I rushed, so that every board in the house shook, up to my lost Lorna's room, and tore the little walnuts open and aspired my treasure. It was as simple and as homely and loving as even I could wish. Part of it ran as follows, the other parts it behoves me not to open out to strangers. My own love and some time, Lord, take it not amiss of me that even without farewell I go, for I cannot persuade the men to wait, your return being doubtful. My great uncle, some grand lord, is awaiting me at Dunster, having fear of venturing too near this ex-moor country. I, who have been so lawless always, and the child of outlaws, am now to atone for this, it seems, by living in a court of law and under special surveillance, as they call it, I believe, of His Majesty's court of chancery. My uncle is appointed my guardian and master, and I must live beneath his care until I am 21 years old. To me this appears a dreadful thing and very unjust and cruel, for why should I lose my freedom through heritage of land and gold? I offered to abandon all if they would only let me go. I went down on my knees to them and said I wanted titles not, neither land nor money, only to stay where I was, where first I had known happiness. But they only laughed and called me child, and said I must talk of that to the King's High Chancellor. Their orders they had and must obey them, and Master Stickles was ordered, too, to help as the King's Commissioner. And then, although it pierced my heart not to say one good-bye, John, I was glad upon the whole that you were not here to dispute it, for I am almost certain that you would not, without force to yourself, have let your Lorna go to people who never, never can care for her. Here my darling had wept again by the tokens on the paper, and then there followed some sweet words, too sweet for me to chatter them. But she finished with these noble lines, which, being common to all humanity, in a case of steadfast love, I do no harm but rather help all true love by repeating. Of one thing rest you well assured, and I do hope that it may prove of service to your rest, love, else would my own be broken. No difference of rank or fortune or of life itself shall ever make me swerve from truth to you. We have passed through many troubles, dangers, and departments, but never yet was doubt between us. Neither ever shall be. Each has trusted well the other, and still each must do so. Though they tell you I am false, though your own mind harbors it, from the sense of things around, and your own undervaluing, yet take counsel of your heart, and cast such thoughts away from you. Being unworthy of itself, they must be unworthy also of the one who dwells there, and that one is, and ever shall be, your own Lorna Dougal. Some people cannot understand that tears should come from pleasure, but whether from pleasure or from sorrow, mixed as they are in the twisted strings of a man's heart or a woman's, great tears fell from my stupid eyes, even on the blots of Lorna's. No doubt it is all over, my mind said to me bitterly. Trust me, all shall yet be right, my heart replied very sweetly. End of Chapter 59 Recording by Michelle Harris Some people may look down upon us for our slavish ways, as they may choose to call them, but in our part of the country we do love to mention title, and to roll it on our tongues with a conscience and a comfort. Even if a man knows not, through fault of education, who the duke of this is, or the earl of that, it will never do for him to say so, lest the room look down on him. Therefore he must nod his head and say, Ah, to be sure, I know him as well as ever I know my own good woman's brother. He married Lord Flipflap's second daughter, and a precious life she led him, whereupon the room looks up at him. But I, being quite unable to carry this all in my head, as I ought, was speedily put down by people of a noble tendency, apt at Lord's and Pat with dukes, and knowing more about the king than his majesty would have requested. Therefore I fell back in thought, not daring in words to do so, upon the titles of our horses, and all these horses deserved their names, not having merely inherited, but by their own doing earned them. Smiler, for instance, had been so called, not so much from a habit of smiling, as from his general geniality, white nose, and white ankle. This worthy horse was now in years, but hail and gay as ever, and when you let him out of the stable, he could nay and winny, and make men and horses know it. On the other hand, Kikkums was a horse of morose and surly order, harboring up revenge, and leading a rider to false confidence. Very smoothly he would go, in as gentle as a turtle dove, until his rider fully believed that a back thread was enough for him, and a pat of approval upon his neck, the aim and crown of his worthy life. Then suddenly, up when his hind feet to heaven, and the rider for the most part, flew over his nose, whereupon good Kikkums would take advantage of his favorable position to come and bite a piece out of his back. Now, in my present state of mind, being understood of nobody, having none to bear me company, neither wishing to have any, an indefinite kind of attraction drew me into Kikkums society. A bond of mutual sympathy was soon established between us. I would ride no other horse, neither Kikkums would be ridden by any other man. And this good horse became as jealous about me as a dog might be, and would lash out or run teeth foremost at any one who came near him when I was on his back. This season, the reaping of the corn, which had been but a year ago so pleasant and so lightsome, was become a heavy labor, and a thing for grumbling rather than for gladness. However, for the sake of all, it must be attended to, and with as fair a show of spirit and alacrity as might be. For otherwise, the rest would drag and drop their hands and idle, being quicker to take infection of dullness than of diligence. And the harvest was a heavy one, even heavier than the year before, although of poorer quality. Therefore, I was forced to work as hard as any horse could, during all the daylight hours, and deferred till night the brooding upon my misfortune. But the darkness always found me stiff with work, and weary, and less able to think than to dream, may be of Lorna. And now the house was so dull and lonesome, wanting Annie's pretty presence and the light of Lorna's eyes, that a man had no temptation, after supper time, even to sit and smoke a pipe. For Lizzie, though so learned and pleasant when it suited her, never had taken very kindly to my love for Lorna. And being of a proud and slightly upstart nature, could not bear to be eclipsed in bearing looks and breeding, and even enclosed by the stranger. For one thing I will say of the dunes, that whether by purchase or plunder, they had always dressed my darling well, with her own sweet taste to help them. And though Lizzie's natural hate of the maid, as a dune and burden with father's death, should have changed his remorse when she learned of Lorna's real parentage, it was only altered to sullenness and discontent with herself for frequent rudeness to an innocent person and one of such high descent. Moreover, the child had imbibed strange ideas as to our aristocracy, partly perhaps from her own way of thinking, and partly from reading of history. For while, from one point of view, she looked up at them very demurely, as commissioned by God for the country's good, from another sight she disliked them, as ready to sacrifice their best and follow their worst members. Yet why should this ranch dare to judge upon a matter so far beyond her, and form opinions which she knew better than declare before mother? But with me, she had no such scruple, for I had no authority over her, and my intellect she looked down upon, because I praised her own so. Thus she made herself very unpleasant to me, by little jags and jerks of sneering, sped as though unwittingly, which I, now considered myself ally to the aristocracy, and perhaps took heirs on that account, had not with enough to parry, yet had wound enough to feel. Now anyone who does not know exactly how mothers feel and think would have expected my mother, than whom could be no better one, to pet me and to make much of me under my sad trouble, to hang with anxiety on my looks, and shed her tears with mine, if any, and season every dish of meat put by for her John's return. And if the whole truth must be told, I did expect that sort of thing, and thought what a plague it would be to me, yet not getting it, was vexed, as if by some new injury. For mother was a special creature, as I suppose we all are, being the warmest of the warm, when fired at the proper corner, and yet, if taken at the wrong point, you would say she was incombustible. Hence it came to pass, that I had no one even to speak to, about Lorna and my grievances, for Captain Stickles was now gone southward, and John Fry, of course, was too low for it, although a married man, and well under his wife's management. But finding myself unable at last to bear this any longer, upon the first day when all the wheat was cut, and the stalks set up in every field, yet none quite fit for caring, I saddled good kickums at five in the morning, and without a word to mother, for a little anxiety might do her good, off I said from all in parish, to have the counsel and the comfort of my darling Annie. The horse took me over the ground so fast, there being few better to go, when he liked, that by nine o'clock Annie was in my arms, and blushing to the color of Winnie's cheeks, with sudden delight and young happiness. You precious little soul, I cried, how does Tom behave to you? Hush, said Annie, how dare you ask? He is the kindest and the best, and the noblest of all men, John, not even sitting yourself aside. Now look not jealous, John, so it is. We all have special gifts, you know. You are as good as you can be, John, but my husband's special gift is nobility of character. Here she looked at me as one who has discovered something quite unknown. I am devilishly glad to hear it, said I, being touched at going down so. Keep him to that mark, my dear, and cork the whiskey bottle. Yes, darling John, she answered quickly, not desiring to open that subject, and being too sweet to resent it. And how is lovely Lorna? What an age it is since I have seen you. I suppose we must thank her for that. You may thank her for seeing me now, said I, or rather, seeing how hurt she looked. You may thank my knowledge of your kindness, and my desire to speak of her to a soft, hearted, dear little soul like you. I think all the women are gone mad. Even mother treats me shamefully, and as for Lizzie, here I stopped, knowing no words strong enough without shocking Annie. Do you mean to say Lorna is gone? asked Annie, in great amazement, yet leaping at the truth, as women do, with nothing at all to leap from. Gone, and I never shall see her again. It serves me right for aspiring so. Being grieved by my manner, she led me in where none could interrupt us, and in spite of all my dejection, I could not help noticing how very pretty, and even elegant, all things were around. For we upon Exmor have little taste, all we care for is warm comfort, and plenty to eat, and to give away, and a hearty smack in everything. But Squire Faggis had seen the world, and kept company with great people, and the taste he had first displayed in the shoeing of farmers' horses, which led him almost to his rune, by bringing him into jealousy and flattery and dashing ways, had now been cultivated in London, and by moonlight so that no one could help admiring it. Well, I cried, for the moment dropping care and woe in astonishment. We have nothing like this in Plover's Barrows, nor even Uncle Reuben. I do hope it is honest, Annie. Would I sit in a chair that was not my own? asked Annie, turning crimson and dropping defiantly, and with the whisk of her dress, which I had never seen before, into the very grandest one. Would I lie in a couch, Brother John, do you think, unless good money was paid for it? Because other people are clever, John, you need now grudge them their earnings. A couch, I replied, why, what can you want with a couch in the daytime, Annie? A couch is a small bed, set up in a room without space for a good fore-poster. What can you want with a couch downstairs? I never heard of such nonsense, and you ought to be in the dairy. I won't cry, Brother John, I won't, because you want to make me cry. And all the time she was crying. You always were so nasty, John, sometimes. Ah, you have no nobility of character like my husband, and I have not seen you for two months, John, and you now come and scold me. You little darling, I said, for Annie's tears always conquered me. If all the rest ill-used me, I will not quarrel with you, dear. You have always been true to me, and I can forgive your vanity. Your things are very pretty, dear, and you may couch ten times a day without my interference. No doubt your husband has paid for all this with the ponies he stole from Exmoor. Nobility of character is a thing beyond my understanding, but when my sister loves a man and he does well in flourishes, who am I to find fault with them? Mother ought to see these things. They would turn her head almost. Look at the pimples on the chairs. They are nothing, answered Annie, after kissing me for my kindness. They are only put in for the time indeed, and we are to have much better, with gold all around the bindings and double plush at the corners, so soon as ever the king repays the debt he owes my poor Tom. I thought to myself that our present king had been most unlucky in one thing, debts all over the kingdom, not a man who had struck a blow for the king, or for his poor father, or even said a good word for him in the time of his adversity, but expected at least a barenancy and a grant of estates to support it. Many have called King Charles ungrateful, and he may have been so, but some indulgences due to a man with entries few on the credit side, and a terrible column of debits. Have no fear for the chair, I said, for it creaked under me very fearfully, having legs not so large as my finger. If the chair breaks, Annie, your fear should be, lest the tortoise shall run into me. Why, it is striped like a viper's loins. I saw some hundreds in London, and very cheap they are. They are made to be sold to the country people, just such as you and me, dear, and carefully kept they will last for almost half a year. Now will you come back from your furniture and listen to my story? Annie was a hardy, dear, and she knew that half my talk was joke to make light of my worrying. Therefore, she took it in good part, as I well knew that she would do, and she led me to a good, honest chair, and she sat in my lap and kissed me. All this is not like you, John. All this is not one bit like you, and your cheeks not as they ought to be. I shall have to come home again if the women worry my brother so. We always held together, John, and we always will, you know. You, dear, I cried, there is nobody who understands me as you do. Lorna makes too much of me, and the rest, they make too little. Not mother, oh, not mother, John. No, mother makes too much, no doubt, but wants it all for herself alone, and reckons it as a part of her. She makes me more wrought than anyone, as if not only my life, but all my head and heart must seek from hers, and have no other thought or care. Being sped of my grumbling thus, and eased into better temper, I told Annie all the strange history about Lorna and her departure, and the small chance that now remained to me of ever seeing my love again. To this Annie would not hearken twice, but judging women by her faithful self was quite vexed with me for speaking so. And then, to my surprise and sorrow, she would deliver no opinion as to what I ought to do until she had consul'd darling Tom. Dear Tom knew much of the world, no doubt, especially the dark side of it, but to me it scarcely seemed becoming that my course of action, with regard to the Lady Lorna Dougal, should be referred to Tom Faggis, and depend upon his decision. However, I would not grieve Annie again, by making light of her husband, and so, when he came in to dinner, the matter was laid before him. Now this man never confessed himself surprised, under any circumstances, his knowledge of life being so profound, and his charity universal. And in the present case, he vowed that he had suspected it all along, and could have thrown light upon Lorna's history, if we had seen fit to apply to him. Upon further inquiry, I found that this light was a very dim one, flowing only from the fact that he had stopped her mother's coach at the village of Bolham, on the Bam Timn Road, the day before I saw them, finding only women therein, and these in a sad condition, Tom, with his usual chivalry, as he had no scent of the necklace, allowed them to pass, with nothing more than a pleasant exchange of courtesies, and a testimonial forced upon him, in the shape of a bottle of burgundy wine. This the poor Countess handed him, and he twisted the cork out with his teeth, and drank her health with his hat off. A lady she was, and a true one, and I am a pretty good judge, said Tom. Ah, I do like a high lady. Our Annie looked rather queer at this, having no pretensions to be one, but she conquered herself and said, Yes, Tom, and many of them liked you. With this, Tom went on a brag at once, being but a shallow fellow, and not of settled principles, though steadier than it used to be, until I felt myself almost bound to fetch him back a little, for of all things I do hate brag the most, as any reader of this tale must by this time know. Therefore, I said to Squire Fagus, Come back from your highway days, you have married the daughter of an honest man, and such talk is not fit for her. If you were right in robbing people, I am right in robbing you. I could bind you to your own mantelpiece, and you well thoroughly know, Tom, and drive away with your own horses, and all your goods behind them, but for the good sense of honesty. And should I not do so as find a thing, as any you did on the highway? If everything is of public right, how does this chair belong to you? Clever as you are, Tom Fagus, you are nothing but a fool to mix your felony with your farmership. Drop the one or drop the other, you cannot maintain them both. As I finished, very sternly, a speech which had exhausted me more than ten rounds of wrestling, but I was carried away by the truth, as sometimes happens to all of us. Tom had not a word to say, albeit his mind was so much more nimble and rapid than ever mine was. He leaned against the mantelpiece, a newly invented affair in his house, as if I had courted him to it, even as I spoke of doing, and he laid one hand on his breast in a way which made any creep softly to him, and look at me, not like a sister. You have done me good, John, he said at last, and the hand he gave me was trembling. There is no other man on God's earth would have dared to speak to me as you have done, from no other would I have taken it. Nevertheless, every word is true, and I shall dwell on it when you are gone. If you never did good in your life before, John, my brother, you have done it now. He turned away in bitter pain that none might see his trouble, and Annie, going along with them, looked as if I had killed our mother. For my part I was so upset for fear of having gone too far that without a word to either of them, but a message on the title page of King James, his prayer book, I saddled kickums and was off, and glad of the moorland air again. CHAPTER 61 It was for poor Annie's sake that I had spoken my mind to her husband so freely and even harshly, for we all knew she would break her heart if Tom took to evil ways again, and the right mode of preventing this was not to coax and flatter and make a hero of him, which he did for himself quite sufficiently, but to set before him the folly of the thing and the ruin to his own interests. They would both be vexed with me, of course, for having left them so hastily and especially just before dinner time, but that would soon wear off, and most likely they would come to see mother and tell her that I was hard to manage and they could feel for her about it. Now, with a certain yearning, I know not what, for softness and for one who could understand me, for simple as a child though being, I found few to do that last at any rate in my love-time, I relied upon Kicum's strength to take me round by Dolverton. It would make the journey some eight miles longer, but what was that to a brisk young horse even with my weight upon him? And having left Squire Faggis and Annie much sooner than had been intended, I had plenty of time before me and too much air a prospect of dinner. Therefore I struck to the right across the hills for Dolverton. Pretty Ruth was in the main street of the town with a basket in her hand going home from the market. Why, cousin Ruth, you are grown, I exclaimed. I do believe you are, Ruth, and you are almost too tall already. At this the little thing was so pleased that she smiled through her blushes beautifully, and must needs come to shake hands with me, though I signed to her not to do it because of my horse's temper. But scarcely was her hand in mine when Kicum's turned like an eel upon her and caught her by the left arm with his teeth so that she screamed with agony. I saw the white of his vicious eye and struck him there with all my force with my left hand over her right arm, and he never used that eye again. Nonetheless he kept his hold on her. Then I smote him again on the jaw and caught the little maid up by her right hand and laid her on the saddle in front of me, while the horse, being giddy and staggered with blows and foiled of his spite, ran backwards. Ruth's wits were gone and she lay before me in such a helpless and senseless way that I could have killed vile Kicum's. I struck the spurs into him past the rowls and away he went at full gallop, while I had enough to do to hold on with the little girl lying in front of me. But I called to the men who were flocking around to send up a surgeon as quick as could be to Master Ruben Huckabacks. The moment I brought my right arm to bear, the vicious horse had no chance with me, and if ever a horse was well paid for spite, Kicum's had his change that day. The bridle would almost have held a wail, and I drew on it so that his lower jaw was well nigh broken from him, while with both spurs I tore his flanks, and he learned a little lesson. There are times when a man is more vicious than any horse may vie with. Therefore, by the time we had reached Uncle Ruben's house at the top of the hill, the bad horse was only too happy to stop. Every string of his body was trembling and his head hanging down with impotence. I leaped from his back at once and carried the maiden into her own sweet room. Now Cousin Ruth was recovering softly from her fright and faintness, and the volley of the wind from galloping so had made her little ears quite pink and shaken her locks all around her. But anyone who might wish to see a comely sight and a moving one need only have looked at Ruth Huckaback when she learned and imagined yet more than it was the manner of her little ride with me. Her hair was of a hazel brown and full of waving readiness, and with no concealment of the trick she spread it over her eyes and face. Being so delighted with her and so glad to see her safe, I kissed her through the thick of it as a cousin has a right to do, yay and ought to do, with gravity. Darling, I said, he has bitten you dreadfully. Show me your poor arm, dear. She pulled up her sleeve in the simplest manner rather to look at it herself than to show me where the wound was. Her sleeve was of dark blue taunt and staple, and her white arm shone, coming out of it as round and plump and velvety as a stalk of asparagus newly fetched out of the ground. But above the curved soft elbow where no room was for one crossword, according to our proverb, three sad gashes edge with crimson spoiled the flow of the pearly flesh. Author's note on, according to our proverb, a maid with an elbow sharp or knee hath crosswords two out of every three. End of footnote. My presence of mind was lost altogether, and I raised the poor sore arm to my lips, both to stop the bleeding and to take the venom out, having heard how wise it was and thinking of my mother. But Ruth, to my great amazement, drew away from me in bitter haste, as if I had been inserting instead of extracting poison. For the bite of a horse is most venomous, especially when he sheds his teeth, and far more to be feared than the bite of a dog or even of a cat. And in my haste I had forgotten that Ruth might not know a word about this, and might doubt about my meaning and the warmth of my osculation. But knowing her danger, I durst not heed her childishness or her feelings. Don't be a fool, cousin Ruth, I said, catching her so that she could not move. The poison is soaking into you. Do you think that I do it for pleasure? The spread of shame on her face was such when she saw her own misunderstanding, that I was ashamed to look at her and occupied myself withdrawing all the risk of Glander's forth from the white limb, hanging helpless now and left entirely to my will. Before I was quite sure of having wholly exhausted suction, and when I had made the holes in her arm look like the gills of a lamprey, in came the doctor, partly drunk and in haste to get through his business. Ha ha, I see, he cried. Bite of a horse, they tell me, very poisonous, must be burned away. Sally, the iron in the fire, if you have a fire this weather. Crave your pardon, good sir, I said, for poor little Ruth was fainting again at his savage orders. But my cousin's arm shall not be burned. It is a great deal too pretty, and I have sucked all the poison out. Look, sir, how clean and fresh it is. Bless my heart, and so it is, no need at all for cauterizing. The epidermis will close over, and the cutus and the pellis. John Rid, you ought to have studied medicine with your healing powers. Half my virtue lies in touch. A clean and wholesome body, sir. I have taught you the Latin grammar. I leave you in excellent hands, my dear, and they wait for me at shovel board. Bread and water poultice cold to be renewed tribus horus. John Rid, I was at school with you, and you beat me very lamentably when I tried to fight with you. You remember me not? It is likely enough. I am forced to take strong waters, John, from infirmity of the liver. Attend to my directions, and I will call again in the morning. And in that melancholy plight, carrying nothing for business, went one of the cleverest fellows ever known at Tiverton. He could write Latin verses a great deal faster than I could ever write English prose, and nothing seemed too great for him. We thought that he would go to Oxford and astonish everyone, and write in the style of Buchanan. But he fell all abroad very lamentably, and now, when I met him again, was come down to push pin and shovel board with a wager of spirits pending. When Master Huckabat came home, he looked at me very sulkily, not only because of my refusal to become a slave to the gold digging, but also because he regarded me as the cause of a savage broil between Simon Carfax and the men who had cheated him as to his Gueni. However, when Uncle Ben saw Ruth and knew it had befallen her, and she, with tears in her eyes, declared that she owed her life to cousin Rid, the old man became very gracious to me, for if he loved anyone on earth, it was his little granddaughter. I could not stay very long, because my horse being quite unfit to travel from the injuries which his violence and vice had brought upon him, there was nothing for me but to go on foot, as none of Uncle Ben's horses could take me to Plover's Barrow's without downright cruelty. And though there would be a harvest moon, Ruth agreed with me that I must not keep my mother waiting, with no idea where I might be until a late hour of the night. I told Ruth all about our Annie and her noble furniture, and the little maid was very lively, although her wounds were painting her so, that half her laughter came on the wrong side of her mouth, as we rather coarsely express it. Especially she laughed about Annie's newfangled closet for clothes or standing press, as she called it. This had frightened me so, that I would not come without my stick to look at it, for the front was inlaid with two fiery dragons, and a glass which distorted everything, making even Annie look hideous. And when it was opened, a woman's skeleton, all in white, revealed itself in the midst of three standing women. It is only to keep my best frocks in shape, Annie had explained to me. Hanging them up does ruin them so. But I owned that I was afraid of it, John, until I had got all my best clothes there, and then I became very fond of it. But even now it frightens me sometimes in the moonlight. Having made poor Ruth a little cheerful, with a full account of all Annie's frocks, material, pattern, and fashion, of which I had taken a list for my mother and for Lizzie, lest they should cry out at man's stupidity about anything of real interest, I proceeded to tell her about my own troubles, and the sudden departure of Lorna, concluding with all the show of indifference which my pride could muster, that now I never should see her again, and must do my best to forget her, as being so far above me. I had not intended to speak of this, but Ruth's face was so kind and earnest that I could not stop myself. You must not talk like that, cousin Ridd, she said in a low and gentle tone, and turning away her eyes for me. No lady can be above a man who is pure and brave and gentle, and if her heart be worth having, she will never let you give her up for her grandeur and her nobility. She pronounced those last few words, as I thought, with a little bitterness, unperceived by herself perhaps, for it was not in her appearance, but I, attaching great importance to a maiden's opinion about a maiden because she might judge from experience, would have led her further into that subject, but she declined to follow, having now no more to say in a matter so removed from her. Then I asked her, full and straight, and looking at her in such a manner that she could not look away without appearing vanquished by feelings of her own, which thing was very vile of me, but all men are so selfish. Dear cousin, tell me, once for all, what is your advice to me? My advice to you, she answered bravely, with her dark eyes full of pride, and instead of flinching, foiling me, is to do what every man must do, if he would win fair maiden. Since she cannot send you token, neither is free to return to you, follow her, pay your court to her, show that you will not be forgotten, and perhaps she will look down, I mean, she will relent to you. She has nothing to relent about. I have never vexed nor injured her. My thoughts have never strayed from her. There was no one to compare with her. Then keep her in that same mind about you. See now I can advise no more. My arm is swelling painfully, in spite of all your goodness, and bitter task of surgeonship. I shall have another poultice on, and go to bed, I think, cousin Rid, if you will not hold me ungrateful. I am so sorry for your long walk. Surely it might be avoided. Give my love to dear Lizzie. Oh, the room is going round so. And she fainted into the arms of Sally, who was come just in time to fetch her. No doubt she had been suffering agony all the time she talked to me. Leaving word that I would come again to inquire for her, and fetch Kikkum's home, so soon as the harvest permitted me, I gave directions about the horse, and striding away from the ancient town was soon upon the Moorlands. Now, through the whole of that long walk, the latter part of which was led by starlight till the moon arose, I dwelt in my young and foolish way, upon the ordering of our steps by a power beyond us. But as I could not bring my mind to any clearness upon this matter, and the stars shed no light upon it, but rather confused me with wondering how their Lord could attend to them all, and yet to a puny fool like me, it came to pass that my thoughts on the subject were not worth ink if I knew them. But it is perhaps worth ink to relate, so far as I can do so, Mother's delight at my return, when she had almost abandoned hope and concluded that I was gone to London in disgust at her behavior. And now she was looking up the lane at the rise of the harvest moon in despair, as she said afterwards. But if she had despaired in truth, what used to look at all? Yet, according to the epigram made by a good blunderlight, despair was never yet so deep in sinking as in seeming. Despair is hope just dropped to sleep for better chance of dreaming. And Mother's dream was a happy one when she knew my step at a furlong distant, for the night was of those that carry sound thrice as far as day can. She recovered herself when she was sure, and even made up her mind to scold me and felt as if she could do it. But when she was in my arms, into which she threw herself, and I, by the light of the moon, described the silver gleam on one side of her head, now spreading since Annie's departure, bless my heart and yours therewith, no room was left for scolding. She hugged me, and she clung to me, and I looked at her, with duty made tenfold and discharged by love. We said nothing to one another, but all was right between us. Even Lizzie behaved very well so far as her nature admitted, not even saying a nasty thing all the time she was getting my supper ready, with a weak imitation of Annie. She knew that the gift of cooking was not vouchsafed by God to her, but sometimes she would do her best by intellect to win it. Whereas it is no more to be won by intellect than is divine poetry. An amount of strong quick heart is needful, and the understanding must second it, in the one art is in the other. Now my fair was very choice for the next three days or more, yet not turned out like Annie's. They could do a thing well enough on the fire, but they could not put it on table so, nor even have plates all piping hot. This was Annie's special gift, born in her and ready to cool with her, like a plate born away from the fireplace. I sighed sometimes about Lorna, and they thought it was about the plates, and Mother would stand and look at me as much as to say, no pleasing him, and Lizzie would jerk up one shoulder and cry. He had better have Lorna to cook for him. While the whole truth was that I wanted not to be plagued about any cookery, but just to have something good and quiet, and then smoke and think about Lorna. Nevertheless, the time went on, with one change and another, and we gathered all our harvest in, and Parson Bowden thanked God for it, both in church and out of it, for his ties would be very goodly. The unmatched cold of the previous winter, and general fear of scarcity, and our own talk about our ruin, had sent prices up to a grand high pitch, and we did our best to keep them there. For nine Englishmen out of every ten, believe that a bitter winter must breed a sour summer, and explain away topmost prices. While according to my experience, more often it would be otherwise, except for the public thinking so. However, I have said too much, and if any farmer reads my book, he will vow that I wrote it for nothing else except to rob his family. End of chapter 61, recording by Michelle Harris.