 CHAPTER XIV Snowy weather now set in, and people were content to stay at home. Among the scours and fells and moors the most perturbed spirit was compelled to rest, or to try to do so, or at any rate not agitate his body out of doors. Lazy folk were suited well with reason good for laziness, and gentle minds the dreaded evil gladly found its communication stopped. Combined excitement and exertion, strong amazement, ardent love, and the cold of equal severity laid poor pet Carnaby by the heels and reduced him to perpetual gruel. He was shut off from the external commune, and strictly blockaded in his bedroom, where his only attendants were his sweet mother and an excellent nurse who stroked his forehead and called him dear pet till he hated her, and worst of all, that doctor Spraggs who lived in the house because the weather was so bad. We have taken a chill, and our mind is a little unhinged, said the skillful practitioner. Careful diet, complete repose, a warm surrounding atmosphere, absence of undue excitement, and, above all, a course of my gentle alternatives regularly administered. These are the very simple means to restore our beloved patient. He is certainly making progress, but I assure you, my dear madam, or rather I need not tell a lady of such wonderfully clear perception that remedial measures must be slow to be truly efficacious. With lower organizations we may deal in a more empiric style, but no experiments must be tried here. Dr. Spraggs, I should hope not indeed. You alarm me by the mere suggestion. Gratation delicately pursued, adapted subtly, discriminated nicely by the unerring diagnosis of extensive medical experience, combined with deep study of the human system, and a highly distinguished university career, such, madam, are, in my humble opinion, the true elements of permanent amelioration. At the same time we must not conceal from ourselves that our constitution is by no means one of ordinary organization. None of your hedger and ditcher class but delicate, fragile, impulsive, sensitive, liable to inopined arrangements from excessive activity of mind. Oh, Dr. Spraggs, he has been reading poetry, which none of our family has ever even dreamed of doing. It is a young man over your way somewhere. Possibly you may have heard of him. That young man has a great deal to answer for. I have traced a very bad case of whooping cough to him. That explains many symptoms which I could not quite make out. We will take away this book, madam, and give him Dr. Watts, the only wholesome poet that our country has produced, though even his opinions would be better expressed in prose. After the lad, in spite of all this treatment, slowly did recover, and then obtained relief, which set him on his nimble legs again. For his Aunt Philippa, one snowy morning, went into the room beneath a desperately sick chamber, to see whether wreaths of snow had entered as they often did between the loose joints of the casement. She walked very carefully for fear of making noise that might be heard above, and disturbed the repose of the poor invalid. But to her surprise there came loud thumps from above, an aquivering of the ceiling, and a sound as of rushing steps, and laughter, and uproarious jollity. What can it be? I am perfectly amazed, said Mistress Yorda to herself. I must inquire into this. She knew that her sister was out of the way, and the nurse in the kitchen, having one of her frequent feeds and agreeable discourses. So she went to a mighty ring in her own room, as large as an untaxed carriage-wheel, and from it, after due difficulty, took the spare key of the passage door that led the way to Lancelot. No sooner had she passed this door than she heard a noise a great deal worse than the worst imagination. Whiz and hiss and crack, and smash, and rolling of hollow things over hollow places, varied with shouts and the flapping of skirts, and jingling of money upon heart of oak. These and many other travails of the air, including strong language, amazed the lady. Hastening into the sick room she found the window wide open with the snow pouring in, a dozen of vile bottles range like skittles, and some full and some empty, and Lancelot dancing about in his nightgown with divine songs poised for another hurl. Two for a fall and one for an empty, seven to me and four to you. No cheating now or I'll knock you over." He was shouting to Weldrum's boy, who had clearly been smuggled in at the window for this game. There's plenty more in old Sprague's chest. Hoh! Mistress Yordus was not displeased with the spirited application of pharmacy. She at once flung wide the passage door, and Pet was free of the house again. But upon parole not to venture out of doors. The first use he made of his liberty was to seek the faithful Yordus, who possessed a little private sitting-room, and there hold secret counsel with him. The dog-man threw his curly head back when he had listened to his young Lord's tale, which contained the truth and nothing but the truth, yet not by any means the whole truth, for the leading figure was left out, and a snort from his broad nostrils showed contempt and strong vexation. Just what I said would come of such a job. He muttered without thought of Lancelot. To let in a traitor and spake him fair and make much of him. I wish you had knocked his two eyes out, Master Lance, instead of the only blackening in him, on a fortnight loss through that pissing Sprague's, and the weather going on snow and thaw, snow and thaw. There scarcely a dog can stand, let alone a horse, and the reeds getting deeper. Most unlucky. It hath come to pass most untombly. But who is Sir Duncan, and who is Mr. Burt? I have told you everything, Yordus, and all you do is tell me nothing. What more can I tell you, sir? You seem to know most about him. And what was it that took you down by that way, sir, if I may make so bold to ask? Yordus, that is no concern of yours. Every gentleman has his own private affairs, which cannot in any way concern a common man. But I wish you particularly to find out all that can be known about Mr. Burt. One made him come here, and why does he live so? And how much has he got a year? He seems to be quite a gentleman. Something his private affairs, sir, cannot concern a common man. You would better ways go yourself and ask him, or ask his friend, with the two black eyes. Now just you do as I bid you, Master Lance. Not a word of all this here to my ladies, but think of something as you must have immediate from Middleton. Something as your health requires. Here, Yordus indulges a sarcastic grin. Something as must come if the sky come down, or the day of judgment was to-morrow. I know, yes, I am quite up to you, Yordus. Let me see. Last time it was a sweet bread. That would never do again. It shall be a hundred oysters, and sprag shall command it, or be turned out. Yordus, I really cannot bear, said a kind Miss Carnaby an hour afterward, that you should seem almost to risk your life by riding to Middleton in such a dreadful weather. Are you sure that it will not snow again, and quite sure that you can get through all the wreaths? If not, I would on no account have you go. Perhaps, after all, it is but a fancy of a poor fantastic invalid, though Dr. Spraggs feels that it is so important, and may be the turning point of his sad illness. It seems such a long way in such weather, and selfish people who can never understand might say that it was quite unkind of us. But if you have made up your mind to go, in spite of all rum and strants, you must be sure to come back to-night, and do please to see that the oysters are round and have not got any of their lids up. The dog-man knew well that he jeopardized his life in either half of the journey. No little in going and tenfold as much in returning through the snows of night, though the journey in the first place had been of his own seeking and his faithful mind was set upon it. Some little sense of bitterness was in his heart, that his life was not thought more of. He made a low bow and turned away that he might not meet those eyes so full of anxiety for another and of none for him. And when he came to think of it, he was sorry afterward for indulging in a little bit of two-edged satire. Were you pleased to ask my lady if I may take Marmaduke, or whether she would be a fear to risk him in such weather? I think it is unkind of you to speak like that. I need not ask my sister, as you ought to know. Of course you may take Marmaduke. I need not tell you to be careful of him. After that, if he had chosen for himself, he would not have taken Marmaduke, but he thought of the importance of his real purpose and could trust no other horse to get him through it. In the fine summer weather, when the sloughs are in and water-courses low or dry in the road's firm, wherever there were any, a good horse and rider, well acquainted with the track, might go from Scargate Hall to Middleton in about three hours, nearly all the journey being well downhill. But the travel to come back was a very different thing. Four hours and a half was quick time for it. Even in the best state of earth and sky and the royal male pony was allowed a good seven because his speed, when first established, had now impaired his breathing. And ever since the snow set in he had received his money for the journey, but preferred to stay in stable, for which everybody had praised him, finding letters give them indigestion. Now, Jordus roughed Marmaduke's shoes himself for the snow would be frozen in the colder places, and ball wherever any softness was, two things which demand very different measures. Also he fed him well and nourished himself and took nurture for the road, so that with all haste he could not manage to start before twelve of the day, traveling was worse than he expected in the snow very deep in places, especially at stormy gap about a league from Scargate. Moreover, he knew that the strength of his horse must be carefully husbanded for the return. And so it was dusk of the winter evening, and the shops of the little town were being lit with hoops of candles. When Jordus, followed by Saracen, came trotting through the unpretending street. The ancient dog Saracen, the largest of the bloodhounds, had joined the expedition as a volunteer, craftily following and crouching out of sight until he was certain of being too far from home to be sent back again. Then he boldly appeared and cantered gaily in front of Marmaduke, with his heavy due-lapse laced with snow. Jordus put up at a quiet old inn and had Saracen chained strongly to a ring-bolt in the stable. Then he set off a foot to see Mr. Jellicourse, and just as he rang the office bell a little fleecy twinkle fell upon one of his eyelashes and, looking sharply up, he saw that a snowy night was coming. The worthy lawyer received him kindly, but not at all as if he wished to see him, for Christmas tide was very nigh at hand, and the weather made the ink go thick, and only a clerk who was working for promotion would let his hat stay on the peg after the drum and fife went by, as they always did at dusk of night to frighten Boney-party. There are only two important facts and all you have told me, Jordus, Mr. Jellicourse said when he had heard him out. One that Sir Duncan has come home, of which I was aware some time ago, and the other that he has been consulting an agent of the name of Mordax, living in this country, that certainly looks as if he meant to take some steps against us, but what can he do more than might have been done five and twenty years ago? The lawyer took good care to speak to none but his principles concerning that plaguesome deed of appointment. Well, sir, you know best no doubt. Only that he hath the money now, and by all accounts, and as like enough he hath labored for it a purpose to fight my ladies. If your honour knew as well as I do what a Yardus is for fighting and for downright stubbornness, perhaps I do, replied the lawyer with a smile, but if he has no children of his own as I believe is the case with him, it seems unlikely that he would risk his substance in a rash attempt to turn out those who are his heirs. He is not so old, but what he might have children yet, if he hath none now at a hand. Anyway, it was my duty to tell you my news immediate. Jordus, I always say that you are a model of a true retainer, a character becoming almost extinct in this faithless and revolutionary age. Very few men would have ridden into town through all those dangerous, unmade roads and weather when even the royal mail is kept by will of the Lord and stable. Well, sir, said Jordus with his brave, soft smile, the truth and the rough of it comes in and out, according. Some days I does next to not, and some days I earns McEepin. Any more commands for me, lawyer Jethikus? Time cometh on rather late for starting. Jordus, you amaze me. You never mean to say that you dream of setting forth again on such a night as this is? I will find you a bed and you shall have a hot supper. What would your ladies think of me if I let you go forth among the snow again? Just look up at the window-pains while you and I were talking, and the feathers of the ice shooting up inside as long as the last sheaf of quills I open for them. Quills, quills, quills all day, and when I buy a goose unblocked if his quills are any good his legs won't carve and his gizzard is full of gravel stones. And the world grows every day in roguery. All the world agrees to that, sir, ever since I were as high as your table. Never I hear two opinions about it, and it maketh a man seem to condemn himself. Good night, sir, and I hope we shall have good news so soon as his royal majesty of the king affordeth the pony as can lift his legs. Mr. Jelly-Course vainly strove to keep the man in town that night. He even called for his sensible wife and his excellent cook to argue, having no clerk left to make scandal of the scene. The cook had a turn of mind for Jordus, and did think that he would stop for her sake, and she took a broom to show him what the depth of snow was upon the red tiles between the brew-house and the kitchen. An icicle hung from the lip of the pump, and new snow sparkled on the cook's white cap, and a dark curly hair which she managed to let fall. The brew-house smelled nice and the kitchen still nicer, but it made no difference to Jordus. If he had told them the reason of his hurry they would have said hard things about it, perhaps. Mrs. Jelly-Course especially, being well read in the scriptures and fond of quoting them against all people who had grouse and sent her none, would have called to mind what David said when the three mighty men broke through the host and brought water from the well of Bethlehem. So Jordus only answered that he had promised to return and a trifle of snow improve the travelling. A willful man must have his way, so Mr. Jelly-Course at last. We cannot put him in the pound, Diana, but the least we can do is to provide him for a course, cold journey. If I know anything of our country he will never see Scargate Hall to-night, but his blanket will be a snowdrift. Give him one of our new Whitney's to go behind his saddle, and I will make him take two things. I am your legal adviser, Jordus, and you are like all other clients. Upon the main issue you cast me off, but in small matters you must obey me. The hearty dogman was touched with this unusual care for his welfare. At home his services were accepted as due, requiring little praise and less of gratitude. It was his place to do this and that and be thankful for the privilege. But his comfort was left for him to study, and if he had studied it much reproach would have been the chief reward. It never would do, as his lady said, to make too much of Jordus. He would give himself heirs and think that people could not get on without him. Mamadouk looked fresh and bold when he came out of the stable. He had eaten with pleasure a good hot dinner or supper, perhaps as he considered it, liking to have his meals early as horses generally do, and he naved and capered for the homeward road, though he knew how full it was of hardships. For never yet looked a horse through bridle without at least one eye resilient toward the charm of the headstall, and now he had both eyes fixed with legitimate aim in that direction, and what were a few tiny atoms of snow to keep a big horse from his household. Merrily, therefore, he set forth with a sturdy rider on his back, his clear neigh rang through the thick dull streets, and kind people came to their white blurred windows and exclaimed as a glance at the party-colored horsemen rushing away into the dreary depths. Well, rather him than me, thank God! You keep the dog, Master Jordan said to the hostler before he left the yard. He's like a lamb when you come to know him. I can't be plagued with him to-night. Here's half a crown for his vitals. He eats precious little for the size of him. A bullock's liver every other day, and a pound and a half the between times. Don't be afraid of him. He looks like that to love you, man. Instead of keeping on a Durham side of tees as he would have done in fair weather for the first six miles or so, Jordan's crossed by the old town bridge to his native country. The journey would be longer thus but easier in some places in the track more plain to follow, which on a snowy night was everything, for all things were now in one indiscriminate pelt and whirl of white. The tees was striped with rustling flows among the black moor water, and the trees as long as there were any bent their shrouded forms and moaned. But with laborious plunges, the broad scatterings of obstruction the willing horse plowed out his way, himself the while wrapped up in white and caked in all his tufty places with a crust that flopped up and down. The rider himself piled up with snow, and bearded with a berg of it. From time to time with his numb right hand fumbled at the frozen clouts that clogged the poor horse's mane and crust. How much longer will I go, I wonder? said Jordan's to himself for the twentieth time. The Lord in heaven knows where we be. But horse knows better than the Lord amost. Two hours must be ever since attempted to make head or tail of it, but Marmaduke knoweth when a hath is head. These creatures is wiser than Christians. Save me from the witches, if I ever see such weather. And I wish that Master Lance's oysters wasn't quite so much like him. For broad as his back was, perpetual thump of rugged and flintified knobs and edges threw the flag-basket strapped over his neck. He was beginning to tell upon his tunch but jolted spine while the foot of the northern stirrup was numbed, and threatening to get frostbitten. The Lord knoweth where we be. He said once more, growing in piety as the peril grew. What can old horse know without the Lord hath told him? And likely he hath never asked, no more than I did. We might have come twelve miles, or we might have come no more than six. Whatever is there left in the world to judge by? The hills, the hollows, the bosquies, all does one, so far as the power of a man's eyes goes. How some ever drive on, old Dookie? Old Dookie drove on with all his might and mane, and the stout spirit which engenders strength till he came to a white wall reared before him, twice as high as his snow-capped head and swirling like a bellow of the sea with drift. Here he stopped short, for he had his own reign, and turned his clouded neck and asked his Master what to make of it. We must have come, alas, a stormy gap. It might be worse, and it might be better. Rocks of both sides with no way round. No choice but to go through it, or to spend the night inside of it. You and I are pretty good wait, old Dookie. We'll even try a charge for it, before we knock under. We can't have much more smother than we've gotten already. My father was taken like this, I've heard tell, in the service of old Squire Philip, and he put his nag at it and scumbled through. But first you get up your wind, old chap. Maraduk seemed to know what was expected of him, for he turned round, retreated a few steps, and then stood, panting. Then Jordus dismounted as well as he could with his windward leg nearly frozen. He smote himself lustily with both arms swinging upon his broad breast, and he stamped in the snow until he felt his tingling feet again. Then he took up the skirt of his thick heavy coat and wiped down the head, mane, and shoulders of the horse, in the great pile of snow upon the cropper. Star clear is a good word, he said. For a moment he stopped to consider the forlorn hope of his last resolution. About me there's no such great matter, he thought. But if I was to kill Dukie, who would ever hear the last of it? And what a good horse he had been to be sure. But if I was to leave him so, the crows would only have him. We be both in one boat, we must try of it. He said a little prayer, which was all he knew, for himself and alas he had a liking to, who lived in a mill upon River Lune. And then he got into the saddle again, and set his teeth hard, and spoke to Marmadu, a horse who would never be touched with a spur. Come on, old chap, as all he said. The horse looked about in the thick of the night as the head of the horse peers out of the cloak in Welsh mummery at Christmas tide. The thick of the night was light and dark, and the dense intensity of downpour, light in itself, and dark with the shutting out of all sight of everything, a close at hand confusion and a distance out of measure. The horse, with his wise snow-crusted eyes, took in all the winnowing of light among the draft, and saw no possibility of breaking through. But resolved to spend his life as he was ordered. No power of rush or of dash could he gather, because of the sinking of his feet, and the main chance was of bulk and weight, and his rider left him free to choose. For a few steps he walked, nimbly picking up his feet, then with a canter of the best spring he could compass, hurled himself into the depth of the drift while Jordus lay flat along his neck and let him plunge. For a few yards the light snow flew before them, like froth of the sea before a broad-bowed ship, and smothered as he was he fought onward for his life. A very soon the power of his charge was gone, his limbs could not rise and his breath was taken from him. The hole that he had made was filled up behind him. Fresh volumes from the shaken height came pouring down upon him. His flanks and back were wedged fast in the cumber, and he stood still and troubled, being buried alive. Jordus with great effort threw himself off and put his hat before his mouth to make himself a breathing-space. He scarcely knew whether he stood or lay, but he kicked about for what of air, and the more he kicked the worse it was, as in the depth of Nightmare. Darkness, choking, smothering, and freezing fell in the lump upon his poor body now, and the shrieking of the horse and the panting of his struggles came by some vibration to him. But just as he began to lose his wits, sink away backward and gas for breath, a gleam of light broke upon his closing eyes. He gathered the remnant of his strength, struck for it, and was in a space of free air. After several long pants he looked around and found that a thicket of stub oak jutting from the crag of the gap made a small alcove with billows of snow piled over it. Then the brave spirit of the man came forth. There's room for dookie as well as me, he gasped. With God's help I'll fetch him in. We here he is, he was. He cast himself back into the wall of snow and listened, and first he heard nothing and made sure that all was over. Presently a faint, soft, gurgle like the dying sob came through the murk. With all his might he dashed toward the sound and laid a hold of a hairy chin just foundering. Rise up, old chap! He tried to shout, and he gave the horse a breath or two with his broad brimmed hat above his nose. Then Marmaduke rallied for one last fight, with the surety of a man to help him. He staggered forward to the leading of the hand he knew so well, and fell upon his knees. But his head was clear and he drew long breaths, and his heart was glad, and his eyes looked up, and he gave a feeble winny. CHAPTER 41. BAT OF THE GILL. On that same evening the cottage in the gill was well snowed up as befalled every winter more or less handsomely according to the wind. The wind was in the right way to do it truly now, with just enough draught to pile bountiful reeds, and not enough of wild blast to scatter them again. Bat of the gill, as Mr. Burt was called, sat by the fire with his wife and daughter, and listened very calmly to the whistle of the wind and the sliding of the soft fall that blocked his window-pains. Incy was reading. Mrs. Burt was knitting stockings, and Mr. Burt was thinking of his own strange life. And never once occurred to him that great part of his strangeness sprang from the oddities of his own nature, any more than a man who has been in a quarrel believes that he could have kept out of it. Matters beyond my own control that forced me to do this and that is the true belief of every man whose life is run counter to his fellows, through his own inborn diversity. In this man's nature were two strange points, sure, if they were strong enough to survive experience, to drive anybody into strange ways. He did not care for money, and he condemned rank. How these two horrible twists got into his early composition is more than can be told, and in truth it does not matter, but being quite incurable and meeting with no sympathy except among people who aspired to them only, and failed if they ever got the chance of failing. These deprivations from the standard of mankind drove Christopher Burt from the beaten tracks of life. Providence offered him several occasions of return into the ordinary course, for after he had cast abroad in a very nice inheritance other two fortunes fell to him, but found him as difficult as ever to stay with. Not that he was lavish upon luxury of his own, for no man could have simpler tastes, but that he weakly believed in the duty of benevolence and the charms of gratitude. Of the latter it is needless to say that he got none, while the former he produced some harm. When all his bread was cast upon the waters he set out to earn his own crust as best he might. Hence came a chapter of accidents and a volume of motley incidents and various climbs and upon far seas. Being a very strong, active man with gift of versatile hand and brain and early acquaintance with handicrafts, Christopher Burt could earn his keep and make in a year almost as much as he used to give away or lend without redemption in a general day of his wealthy time. Hard labor tried to make him sour, but did not succeed therein. Yet one thing in all his experience vexed him more than any hardship to wit that he could never win true fellowship among his new fellows in the guild of labor. Some are rather surly, others very pleasant, from a warm belief that he must yet come into money, but what some ever or whosoever they were, or whatever land they all agreed that Christopher Burt was not of their communion. Manor's appearance, education, freedom from prejudice, and other wide diversities marked him as an interloper, and perhaps a spy among the enlightened working man of the period. Over and over again he strove to break down this barrier, but thrice as hard he might have streven and found it still too strong for him. This and other circumstance at last impressed him with the superior value of his own society. Much as he loved the working man in spite of all experience of him, that worthy fellow would not have it, but felt a truly impiously hereditary scorn for a gentleman as took an order when, for being a blessed fool, he might have stood there giving it. The other thing that helped to drive him from his very dense array was his own romantic marriage in the copious birth of children. After the sensitive age was passed and when the sensibles ought to reign, for then he was past five and thirty he fell, for the first time of his life, into a violent passion of love for a beautiful Jewish maid barely turned seventeen. Silpa admired him for he was of noble aspect, rich with variety of thoughts and deeds. With women he had that peculiar power which men of strong character possess. His voice was like music and his words as good as poetry. And he scarcely ever seemed to contradict himself. Very soon Silpa adored him and then he gave notice to her parents that she was to be his wife. The stared considerably being very wealthy people of high Jewish blood and thus the oldest of the old, and steadfast most where all are steadfast to their own race of religion. Finding their astonishment received serenely they locked up their daughter with some strong expressions which they redoubled when they found the door wide open in the morning. Silpa was gone and he scratched out her name from the surface of their memories. Christopher Byrd being lawfully married for the local restrictions scorned the case of a foreigner and a Jewish, crossed the Polish frontier with his mules and tools and drove his little covered cart through Austria. And here he lit upon and helped in some predicament of the road a spirited young Englishman undergoing the miseries of the Grand Tour, the son and heir of Philip Yardus. Duncan was large and crooked of thought, as every true Yardus must be. And finding a mind in advance of his own by several years of such sallings and not yet even swerving toward the turning goal of corpulence, the young man perceived that he had hit upon a prophet. For Byrd scarcely ever talked of all his generous ideas. A prophet's proper mantle is the long cloak of harpocrates, and his best Vaticanations are inspired more than uttered, so it came about that Duncan Yardus, difficult as he was to lead, largely shared the devious courses of Christopher Byrd, the workman. And these few months of friendship made a lasting mark upon the younger man. Soon after this a heavy blow befell the ingenious wanderer. Among his many arts and trades he had some knowledge of engineering, or at any rate much boldness of it, which led him to conceive a brave idea concerning some tributary of the Po. The idea was sound and fine and might have led to many blessings, but Nature, enjoying her bad work best, recoiled upon the improver. He left an oozy channel drying, like a glanderous sponge in August, and virulent fever came upon his tent. All of his eight children died except his youngest son, Maunder. His own strong frame was shaken sadly, and his loving wife lost all her strength and books of beauty. He gathered the remnants of his race, and stricken but still unconquered, took his way to a long forgotten land. The residue of us must go home. He said after all his wanderings. In London, of course, he was utterly forgotten, although he had spent much substance there in the days of sanguine charity. Durham was his native country, where he might have been a leading man, if more like other men. Cosmopolitan as he was, and strong in his own opinion still, the force of years and sorrow and long striving told upon him, he had felt a longing to mend the kettles of the house that once was his, but when he came to the brink of teas his stout heart failed, and he could not cross. Instead of that he turned away, to look for his old friend Yordus, not to be patronized by him. For patronage he would have none, but from hankering after a congenial mind and a touch upon kind memories. Yordus was gone, as pure and outcast as himself and his name almost forbidden there. He thought it a part of the general wrong, and wandered about to see the land with his eyes wide open as usual. There was nothing very beautiful in the land and nothing at all attractive except that it commanded length of view and was noble in its rugged strength. This, however, pleased him well, and here he resolved to set up his staff if means could be found to make it grow. From the higher fowls he could behold, whenever the weather encouraged him, the dromedary humps of certain hills, at the tale whereof he had been at school, a charming mist of retrospect. And he felt, though it might have been hard to make him own it, a deeply seated joy that here he should be long links out of reach of the most highly illuminated working man. This was an inconsistent thing, but consistent for ever in coming to pass. Where the will is there the way is, if the will be only wise. Burt found out a way of living in this howling wilderness as his poor wife would have called it if she had been a bad wife. Unskillful as he had shown himself in the matter of silver and gold he had won great skill in the useful metals, especially in steel, the type of truth. And here in a break of rock he discovered a slender vein of slate-grey mineral, distinct from cobalt, but not unlike it, such as he had found in the Carpathian Mountains, and which in metallurgy had no name yet, for its value was known to very few. But a legend of the spot declared that the ancient cutlers of Bilbo owed much to their fame the use of this mineral in the careful process of conversion. I can make a living out of it. And that is all I want," said Burt, who was moderately sanguine still. I know a manufacturer who has faith in me and is doing all he can against the supremacy of Sheffield. If I can make arrangements with him, we will settle here and keep our own affairs for the future. He built him a cottage in lonely snugness, fair in the waste and outside even of the range of tidal deeds. Though he paid a small rent to the manor to save trouble and to satisfy his conscience on the mineral deposit. By right of discovery, lease and user, this became entirely his, and nobody else had ever heard of it. So by the fine irony of facts it came to pass. First that the squanderer of three fortunes united his lot with a Jewish. Next that a great cosmopolitan hugged a strict corner of jealous monopoly, and again that a champion of Communism insisted upon his exclusive right to other people's property. However, for all that it might not be easy to find a more consistent man. Here Maunder, the surviving son, grew up, and incy their last child was born, and the land enjoyed peace for twenty years because it was of little value. A man who had been about the world so loosely must have found it hard to be boxed up here, except for the lowering of strength and pride by sorrow of affection and sore bodily affliction. But the air of the more land is good for such troubles. Burt possessed a happy nature, and perhaps it was well that his children could say, We are nine, but only two to feed. It must have been the whistling wind, a long memorial sound which sent him upon this snowy December night back among the echoes of the past, for he always had plenty of work to do, even in the winter evenings, and was not at all given to folded arms. And before he was tired of his short warm rest his wife asked, Where is Maunder? I left him doing his work, he replied. He had a great heap still to clear. He understands his work right well. He will not go to bed until he has done it. We must not be quite snowed up, my dear. Mrs. Burt shook her head, having lost so many children she was anxious about the rest of them. But before she could speak again a heavy leap inside the door was heard. And strong latch rattled and the timbers creaked. Incy jumped to see what it meant. But her father stopped her and went himself. When he opened the door a whirl of snow flew in, and through the glitter and flutter a great dog came reeling and rolled upon the floor a mighty lump of bristled whiteness. Mrs. Burt was terrified before she thought that it was a wolf, not having found it in her power to believe that there could be such a desert place without wolves in the winter time. Why, Sarasen, said Incy. I declare it is. You poor old dog, what could have brought you out in this weather? Older parents were surprised to see her sit down on the floor and throw her arms around the neck of this self-invited and very uncouth visitor. For the girl forgot all her trumpetry concealments and the warmth of her feeling for a poor lost dog. Sarasen looked at her with a view to dignity. He had only seen her once before when Pet brought him down, both for company and safeguard. And he was not a dog who would dream of recognizing a person to whom he had been rashly introduced. And he knew that he was in a mighty difficulty now, which made self-respect all the more imperative. However, on the whole he had been pleased with Incy at their first interview and had patronized her, for she had an honest fragrance and a little taste of salt. And now, with a side look, he let her know that he did not wish to hurt her feelings, although his business was not with her. But if she wanted to give him some refreshment, she might do so while he was considering. The fact was, though he cannot tell it and would scorn to do so if he could, that he had not had one bit to eat for more hours than he could reckon. That wicked hustler at Middleton had taken his money and dispersed it upon beer, adding insult to injury by remarking in the hearing of Sarasen, while strictly chained, that he was a deal too fat already. So vile a sentiment had deepened into passion the dog's ever dominant love of home, and when the darkness closed upon him in an unknown hungry hole without even a horse for company, any other dog would have howled. But this dog stiffened his tail with self-respect. He scraped away all the straw to make a clear area for his experiment, and then he stood up like a pillar or a fine kangaroo and made trial of his weight against the chain. Feeling something give or show propensity toward giving, he said to himself that here was one more triumph for him over the presumptuous intellect of man. The chain might be strong enough to hold a ship, and the great leather and collar to secure a bull, but the fastening of chain to collar was unsound, by reason of the rusting of a rivet. Retiring to the manger for a better length of rush, he backed against the wall for a fulcrum to his spring. While the roll of his chest and the breadth of his loins quivered with tight muscle. Then take off like charge of a cannon he dashed, the loop of the collar flew out of the rivet and the chain fell clanking on the paving-bricks. With grim satisfaction the dog set off in the track of the horse for Scargate Hall. And now he sat up panting in the cottage of the guild to tell his discovery and to crave for help. Where do you come from and what do you want? Ask Bert as the dog, soon beginning to recover, looked round the door and then back again at him and jerked up his chin impatiently. Incy, you seem to know this fine fellow where have you met him? And whose dog is he? Saracen. Why, that is the name of the dog who is everybody's terror at Scargate. I gave him some water one day, said Incy, when he was terribly thirsty. But he seems to know you, Father, better than me. He wants you to do something, and he scorns me. For Saracen, failing an articulate speech, was uttering volumes of entreaty with his eyes, which were large and brown and full of clear expression under eyebrows of rich tan. And then he ran to the door, put up one heavy paw and shook it, and ran back and pushed the master with his nozzle, and then threw back his great head and long velvet ears, and opening his enormous jaws, gave vent to a mighty howl which shook the roof. Ow! Put him out! Put him out! Open the door! exclaimed Mrs. Burt in fresh terror. If he is not a wolf, he is a great deal worse. His master is out in the snow. Cried Burt. Perhaps buried in the snow, and he's come to tell us. Give me my hat, child, and my thick coat. See how delighted he is, poor fellow. Oh, here comes my order. Now lead the way, my friend. Monder, go and fetch the other shovel. There is somebody lost in the snow, I believe. We must follow this dog immediately. Not to you both have had much plenty food, the mother said. Out upon the moors this bad, bad night, and for leagues possibly to travel? My son and my husband are much too good. You band dog, why did you come pestilent? But you shall have food also, and see provide him while I make to eat your father and your brother. Sarasen could hardly wait, starving as he was, but seeing the men prepare to start he made the best of it, and cleared out a colander of ittles in a minute. Put up what is needful for a starving traveler, Mr. Burt said to the ladies. We shall want no lantern, the snow gives light enough, and the moon will soon be up. Keep a kettle boiling, and some warm clothes ready. Perhaps we shall be hours away, but have no fear. Monder is the boy for snowdrifts. The young man, being of dark and silent nature, quite unlike his father's, made no reply, nor even Dane to give a smile, but seemed to be wonderfully taken with the dog, who in many ways resembled him. Then he cast both shovels on his shoulder at the door, and strode forth, and stamped upon the path that he had cleared. His father took a stout stick, the dog lept past them, and led them out at once upon the open moor. We are in for the night of it, so Mr. Burt and his son did not contradict him. The dog goes first, then I, then you. He said to his father in his deep, slow tone. And the elderly man, whose chief puzzle in life, since he had given up the problem of the world, was the nature of his only son. Now wondered again, as he seldom ceased from wondering whether this boy despised or loved him. The young fellow always took the very greatest care of his father, as if he were a child to be protected. And he never showed the smallest sign of disrespect. Yet Maunder was not the true son of his father, but of some ancestor whose pride sprang out of dust at the outrageous idea of a kettle-mending Burt, and embodied itself in this Maunder. The large-minded father never dreamed of such a trifle, but felt in such weather with the snow above the leggings that sometimes it is good to have a large-bodied son. And of Chapter 41. Recording by Keith Salas Chapter 42 of Mary Annerly This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org Mary Annerly by Richard Dodridge Blackmore Chapter 42 A Clue of Buttons When Jack of the Smithies met his old commander as related by himself at the house of Mr. Mordox, everything seemed to be going on well for Sir Duncan, and badly for his sisters. The general factor, as he hinted long ago, possessed certain knowledge of which the Middleton lawyer fondly supposed to be confined to himself and his fair clients. Sir Duncan refused to believe that the ladies could ever have heard of such a document as that which, if valid, would simply expel them, for, said he, if they know of it, they are nothing less than thieves to conceal it and continue in possession of a lawyer I could fancy it but never of a lady. My good, sir, answered the sarcastic Mordox, a lady's conscience is not the same as a gentleman's, but bears more resemblance to a lawyer's. A lady's honor is of the very highest standard, but the standard depends upon her state of mind, and that, again, depends upon the condition of her feelings. You must not suppose me to admit the faintest shadow of disrespect toward your good sisters, but ladies are ladies and facts are facts, and the former can always surmount the latter, while a man is comparatively helpless. I know that Mr. Jelly-Course, their man of law, is thoroughly acquainted with this interesting deed. His first duty was to apprise them of it, and that you may be quite sure he has done. I hope not. I am sure not. A lawyer does not always employ hot haste in an unwelcome duty. True enough, sir Duncan, but the duty here was welcome, and their knowledge of that deed and of his possession of it would make him their master, if he chose to be so. Not that old Jelly-Course would think of such a thing. He is a man of high principle, like myself, of a lofty conscience and even sentimental. But lawyers are just like the rest of mankind. Their first consideration is their bread and cheese, though some of them certainly seem ready to accept it even in the toasted form. You may say what you like, Mordax, but my sister Philippa is far too upright, and Eliza too good for any such thing to be possible. However, that question may abide. I shall not move until I have someone to do it for. I have no great affection for a home which cast me forth, whether it had a right to do so or not. But if we succeed in the more important matter it will be my duty to recover the estates, for the benefit of another. You are sure of the proofs that it is the boy, as certain as need be, and we will make it sure when you meet me there the week after next. For the reasons I have mentioned we must wait till then. Your yacht is at Yarmouth. You have followed my advice in approaching by sea and not by land, and in hiring at Yarmouth for that purpose. But you never should have come to York, Sir Duncan. This is a very great mistake of yours. They are almost sure to hear of it, and even your name given in our best inn. But luckily they never see a newspaper at Scargate. I follow the tactics with which you succeed all above board and no stratagems. Your own letter brought me, but perhaps I am too old to be so impatient. Where shall I meet you and on what day? This day fortnight, at the Thornwick Inn, I shall hope to be with you at three o'clock, and perhaps bring somebody with me. If I fixed an earlier day I should only disappoint you, for many things have to be delicately managed, and among them the running of a certain cargo without serious consequence. For that we must trust a certain very skillful youth. For the rest you must trust to a clumsier person, your humble land agent and surveyor. Titles inquired into and verified at a tenth of Solicitor's Charges. Well, said Sir Duncan, you shall verify mine as soon as you have verified my son, and my title to him. Goodbye, Mordax. I am sure that you mean me well, but you seem to be very long about it. Hot climates breed impatient, sir. A true son of Yorkshire is never in a hurry. The general complaint of me is considering my wild rapidity. You are like the Grosier, whose goods, if they have any fault at all, have the opposite one to what the customer finds in them. Well, goodbye, Mordax. You are a trusty friend, and I thank you. These words from Sir Duncan Yordus were not merely of common place, for he was a man of great self-reliance, quick conclusion, and strong resolve. These had served him well in India and ensured his fortune, while early adversity and bitter losses had tempered the arrogance of his race. After the loss of his wife and child in the breach with all his relatives, he had led a life of peril and hard labor, varied with few pleasures. When first he learned from Edinburgh that the ship conveying his only child to the care of the mother's relatives was lost, with all on board, he did all in his power to make inquiries. But the illness and death of his wife, to whom he was deeply attached, overwhelmed him. For while with some people one blow drives out another, with some the second serves only to drive home, deepen and aggravate the first. For years he was satisfied to believe both losses irretrievable, and so he might still have gone on believing, except for a queer little accident. Being called to Calcutta upon government business he happened to see a pair of English sailors lazily playing in a shady place by the side of the road, at whole penny. One of them seemed to have his pocket cleared out for just as Sir Duncan was passing, he cried, Hey, Jack, you give me change in one of them, and I'll have it you again, my boy. As good as a guinea with these blessed niggers. Come back to their home, I believe they are. Same as I wish I was, rare gold. Ask this gentleman. The other swore that they were not but brass and not worth a copper-farden, until the Tars being too tipsy for much fighting referred the question to Sir Duncan. Three hollow beads of gold were what they showed him, and he knew them at once for his little boy's buttons, the workmanship being peculiar to one village of his district, and one family thereof. The sailor would thankfully have taken one rupee apiece for them, but Sir Duncan gave him thirty for the three, their full metallic value upon his pledging honor to tell all he knew about them and make half a David if required. Then he told all he knew to the best of his knowledge and swore to it when sober, accepted a refresher and made oath to it again, with some lively particulars added, and the facts that he deposed to and deposited, were these, being down upon his luck, about a twelve-month back, he thought of keeping company with a nice young woman and settling down until a better time turned up, and happening to get a month's wages from a schooner of ninety-five tons at Scarborough. He strolled about the street a bit and kept looking down the railings for a servant-girl who might have got her wages in her workbox, clean as he was and taut and clever, beating up street in his Sunday rig, keeping a sharp look out for a consort, and in three or four attacks he hailed one, as nice a young partner as a lad could want, and his meaning was to buckle to for the winter. But the night before the splicing day what happened to him he never could tell after. He was bousing up his jib as a lad is bound to do before he takes the breakers, and when he came to he was twenty leagues from Scarborough, on board of his majesty's recruiting brig the Harpy. He felt in his pocket for the wedding-ring, and instead of that there were these three beads. Sir Duncan was sorry for his sad disaster and gave him ten more rupees to get over it, and then he discovered that the poor, forsaken maiden's name was Sally Watkins. Sally was a daughter of a rich pawnbroker whose frame of mind was sometimes out of keeping with its true contents. He had very fine feelings in a real warmth of sympathy, but circumstances seemed sometimes to lead them into the wrong channel, and induced him to kick his children out of doors. In the middle of the family he kicked out Sally, almost before her turn was come, and she took a place at four pounds a year to disgrace his memory, as she said, carrying off these buttons and the jacket, which he had bestowed upon her in a larger interval. There was no more to be learned than this from the intercepted bridegroom. He said that he might have no objection to go with his love again as soon as the war was over, least ways if it was made worth his while. But he had come across another girl at the Cape of Good Hope, and believed that this time the Lord was in it, for she had been born in a call, and he had got it. With such a dispensation Sir Duncan Yorta saw no right to interfere but left the course of true love to itself after taking down the sailor's name, Ned Faithful. However he resolved to follow out the clue of beads, though without much hope of any good result. Of the three in his possession he kept one, and one he sent to Enberg, and the third to York, having heard of the great sagacity, vigor, and strict integrity of Mr. Mordox, all of which he sharpened by the promise of a large reward upon discovery. Then he went back to his work until his time of leave was due, after twenty years of arduous and distinguished service. In troubleous times no private affairs however urgent should drive him from his post. Now eager as he was when in England once again he was true to his character and the discipline of life. He had proved that the matter was in very good hands, and long command had taught him the necessity of obedience. Any previous Yorta's would have kicked against the pricks, rushed forward, and scattered everything. But Sir Duncan was now of a different fiber. He had left York at once, as Mordox advised, and posted to Yarmouth before the roads were blocked with snow and while Jack of the Smithies was returning to his farm. And from Yarmouth he set sail for Scarborough in a sturdy little coaster, which he hired by the week. From Scarborough he would run down to Bridlington, not too soon, for fear of setting gossip going. But in time to meet Mordox at Flamborough has agreed upon. That gentleman had other business in hand which must not be neglected, but he gave to this matter a very large share of his time, and paid five and twenty pounds for the trusty roadster who liked the taste of Flamborough pond and the salt air on the oats of Widow Tapsie's stable. And now regularly nade and whisked his tail as soon as he found himself outside Monk Bar. By favor of his horse and of his own sword and pistols Mordox spent nearly as much time now at Flamborough as he did in York. But unluckily he had been obliged to leave on the very afternoon before the run was accomplished, and caraway slain so wickedly. For he hurried home to meet Sir Duncan and had not heard the bad news when he met him. That horrible murder was a sad blow to him, not only as a man of considerable kindness and desire to think well of everyone, so far as experience allows it, but also because of the sudden apparition of the law rising sternly in front of him. Justice in those days was not as now, her truer name was Nemesis. After such an outrage to the dignity of the realm an example must be made, without much consideration whether it were the right one. If Rob and Leith were caught there would be the form of trial but the principal point would be to hang him. Like the rest of the world Mr. Mordox at first believed entirely in his guilt, but unlike the world he did not desire to have him caught and brought straight away to the gallows. Instead of seeking him therefore he was now compelled to avoid him when he wanted him most. For it never must be said that a citizen of note had disgorced with such a criminal and allowed him to escape. On the other hand here he had to meet Sir Duncan and tell him that all those grand promises were shattered, that in finding his only son all he had found was a cowardly murderer flying for his life and far better left at the bottom of the sea. For once in a way as he dwelt upon all this the general factor became downhearted, his vigorous face lost the strong lines of decision, and he even allowed his mouth to open without anything to put into it. But it was impossible for this to last. Nature had provided Mordox with an admirably high opinion of himself, enliven by his sprightly good will toward the world whenever it wagged well with him. He had plenty of business of his own and yet could take an amateur delight in the concerns of everybody. He was always at liberty to give good advice and never under duty to take it. He had vigor of mind, of memory, of character, and of digestion, and whenever he stole a holiday from self-denial and launched out after some favorite thing there was the cash to do it with and the health to do it pleasantly. Such a man is not long depressed by a sudden misadventure. Dr. Upround's opinion in favor of Robin did not go very far with him, for he looked down upon the rector as a man who knew more of divine than of human nature, but that fault could scarcely be found with a woman, or at any rate with a widow encumbered with a large family hanging upon the dry breast of the government. And though Mr. Mordox did not invade the cottage quite so soon as he should have done, if guided by strict business, he thought himself bound to get over that reluctance and press her upon a most distressing subject before he kept appointment with his principal. The snow which by this time had blockaded Scargate impounded Jordus and compelled Mr. Jelly-Course to rest and be thankful for a hot, minced pie. Although it had visited this eastern coast as well, was not deep enough there to stop the roads, keeping headquarters at the hooked cod now, and encouraging a butcher to set up again who had dropped all his money and his hurry to get on. Jeffrey Mordox began to make way into the outer crust of Lamberow society. In a council of the boats upon a Sunday afternoon every boat being garnished for its rest upon the flat, and every master fisherman buttoned with a flower, the last flowers of the year and bearing ice marks in their eyes. A resolution had been passed that the inland man, meant well, had not to do with the revenue, or Frenchmen either, or what was even worse any outside fishers, such as often time came sneaking after fishing grounds of Lamberow. Mother taps he stood credit for this strange man and he might be allowed to go where he was minded, and to take all the help he liked to pay for. Few men could have achieved such a triumph without having married a Lamberow lass, which must have been the crown of all human ambition if difficulty crowns it, even to so great a man it was an added laurel and strengthened him much in his opinion of himself. In spite of all disasters he recovered faith and fortune, so many leading Lamberow men began to touch their hats to him, and thus he set forth before a bitter eastern gale with the head of his seasoned charger bent toward the melancholy cot at Bridelington. Having granted a new life of slaughter to that continually insolvent butcher who exhibited the body of a sheep once more, with an eye to the approach of Christmas this universal factor made it a point of duty to encourage him. In either saddlebag he bore a seven-pound leg of mutton, a credit to a sheep of that district then, and to show himself no traitor to the staple of the place he strapped upon his cropper in some oarweed and old netting a twenty-pound cod who found it hard to breathe his last when beginning to enjoy horse-exercise. There was a lot of mouths to fill, said Mr. Mordax with a sigh while his landlady squeezed a brown loaf of her baking into the nick of his big sword-strap, and you and I are capable of entering into the condition of the widow and the fatherless. Unger is the way of them, and Vittles is the cure for it. Now mind you come home of our dark, cried the widow to whom he had happened to say, very sadly, that he was now a widower. To my mind a sight of more snow is a coming, and what massage or soon fall against it. Captain Mordax, come ye home early. To her she'll be doing a turn, be five o'clock. Come ye home be that o'clock if ye care for dinner. I must have made a tender impression on her heart, Mr. Mordax said to himself as he kissed his hand to the capaceous hostess. Such is my fortune to be loved by everybody, while aiming at the sternest rectitude. It is sweet, it is dangerously sweet. But what a comfort! How that large-hearted female will baste my hair! CHAPTER 43 A Pleasant Interview Cumbered as he was of body and burdened with some cares of mind, the general factor plowed his way with his usual resolution. A scowl of dark vapor came over the headlands, and underran the snow clouds with a scud like bonfire smoke. The keen wind following the curves of land, and shaking the fringe of every white clad bush piped like a boy through a comb, wherever stock or stub divided it. It turned all the coat of the horse the wrong way, and frizzed up the hair of Mr. Mordax, which was as short as the soldiers, and tossed up his heavy riding cape and got into him all up the small of his back. Being fond of strong language he indulged in much, but none of it warmed him, and the wind whistled over his shoulders and whirled the words out of his mouth. When he came to the dip of the road where it crosses the Dane's Dyke, he pulled up his horse for a minute, in the shelter of shivering fir trees. What a cursed, bleak country! My fish is frozen stiff, and my legs are dead as the mutton in the saddle-bags. Chifer, you are a fool! he said. Charity is very fine and business even better. But a good coal fire is the best of all. But in for a penny of it, in for a pound. Hark! I hear some fellow fool equally determined to be frozen. I'll go at once and hail him. Perhaps the sight of him will bore me. He turned his horse down a little lane upon the left, where snow lay deep with laden bushes overhanging it, and a rill of water bridged with bearded ice ran dark in the hedge-trough. And here he found a stout, lusty man with shining red cheeks and keen blue eyes, hacking and hewing in a mighty maze of brambles. My friend, you seem busy. I admire your vast industry. Mr. Mordax exclaimed as the man looked at him, but ceased not from swinging his long hedge-hook. Happy is the land that owns such men! The land doth not own me. I own the land. I shall be pleased to learn what your business is upon it. Farmer Annaly hated Chaff as a good agriculturist should do. Moreover he was vexed by many little griefs today and had not been out long enough to work them off. He guessed pretty shrewdly that this sordid man was Mordax, as the leading wags of flamborough were gradually calling him, and the sight of a sword upon his farm, unless of an officer bound to it, was already some disquietude to an English farmer's heart. That was a trifle, for fools would be fools and might think it a grand thing to go about with tools they were never born to the handling of. But a fellow who was come to take up Robin Leith's case and strive to get him out of his abominable crime, had better go back to the rogue's highway, instead of coming down the private road to Annaly. Upon my word I do believe, cried Mordax with a sprightly joy, that I have the pleasure of meeting at last the well-known Captain Annaly. My dear sir, I cannot help commending your prudence in guarding the entrance to your manner, but not in this employment of a bill-hook. From all that I hear it is a paradise indeed. What a heaven in such weather as the present! Now, Captain Annaly, I entreat you to consider whether it is wise to take the thorn so from the rose. If I had so sweet a place I would plant brambles, briars, blackthorn, furs, cretaceous, every kind of spinuous growth inside my gates and never let anybody lop them. Captain, you are too hospitable. Farmer Annaly gazed with wonder at this man who could talk so fast for the first time of seeing a body, then feeling as if his hospitality were challenged and desiring more leisure for reflection. You better come down the lane, sir," he said. Am I to understand that you invite me to your house or only to the gate where the dogs come out? Excuse me, I always am a most plain spoken man. Our dogs never bite anybody but rogues. In that case, Captain Annaly, I may trust their moral estimate. I knew a farmer once who was a thorough thief in hay, a man who farmed his own land and trimmed his own hedges, a thoroughly respectable and solid agricultureist. But his trusses of hay were always six pounds short, and if ever anybody brought a sample trust to the steeryard he had got a little dog, just seven pounds weight, who slipped into the core of it, being just a good hay color. He always delivered his hay in a twilight, and when it swung the beam he used to say, Come now! I must charge you for overweight. Now, Captain, have you got such an honest dog as that? I would have claimed him that I would if such a clever dog were weighed to me. But, sir, you have got the better of me. What a man for stories you be, for sure. Come into our fireplace. Farmer Annaly was conquered by this tale which he told fifty times every year he lived thereafter never failing to finish with what rogues they be up Yorkway. Master Mordax was delighted with this piece of luck on his side, many times he had been longing to get in at Annaly, not only from the reputation of good cheer there, but also from kind curiosity to see the charming Mary, who is now becoming an important element of business. Since Robin had given him the slip so sadly, a thing that was impossible to guard against. The best chance of hearing what became of him would be to get into the good graces of his sweetheart. We have been very sadly for a long time now, so the farmers he knocked at his own porch door with the handle of his bell-hook. There used to be one, as was always welcome here, and a pleasure it was to see him make himself so pleasant, sir. But ever since the Lord took him home from his family, without a good buy, as a man might say, my wife hath taken to the bar the doors whilst I am away and out of sight. Stephen Annaly knocked harder and thus explained the need for it, for it grieved him to have his house shut up. Very wise of them all to bar out such weather, said Mordax, who read the farmer's thoughts like print. Don't relax your rules, sir, until the weather changes. Ah, that was a very sad thing about the captain, as gallant as an officer as single-minded as ever killed a Frenchman in the best days of our navy. Single-minded is a very word to give him, sir. I sought about for it ever since I heard of him coming to an end like that, and doing of his duty in the thick of it. If I could only get a gentleman to tell me, or an officer's wife would be better still, what the manners is when a poor lady gets her husband shot. I'll be blessed if I wouldn't go straight and see her, though they make such a distance betwixt us and the regulars. Oh, then you've come at last! No thief! No thief! Father! cried Mary bravely opening the door of which the ruffian wind made wrong by casting her figure in high relief, and yet a pardonable wrong. Father, you are quite wise to come home before your dear nose is quite cut off. Oh, I beg your pardon, sir, I never saw you. My fate in life is to be overlooked, Mr. Mordax answered with a marshal's stride. But not always, young lady, with such exquisite revenge. What I look at bays fiftyfold for being overlooked. You are an impudent conceited man, thought Mary to herself with gross injustice. But she only blushed and said, I beg your pardon, sir. You see, sir, quote the farmer with some severity tempered, however, with a smile of pride. My daughter, Mary Annerley, and I take off my hat, replied audacious Mordax, among whose faults was no false shame. Not only to salute a lady, sir, but also to have a better look. Well, well! said the farmer as Mary ran away. Your city ways are high polite, no doubt, but my little lass is strange to them, and I like her better so than to answer pert with pertness. Now you come in and warm your feet a bit. None of us are younger than we used to be. This was not Master Annerley's general style of welcoming a guest, but he hated newfangled Frenchified manners, as he told his good wife, when he boasted by and by how finally he had put that old cox comb down. You never should have done it, was all the praise he got. Mr. Mordax is a businessman, and businessmen always must relieve their minds. For no sooner now was a general factor introduced to Mr. Annerley than she perceived clearly that the object of his visit was not to make speeches to young chits of girls, but to seek the advice of a sensible person, who ought to have been consulted a hundred times for once that she even had been allowed to open her mouth fairly. Sitting by the fire he convinced her that the whole of the mischief had been caused by the sheer neglect of her opinion. Everything she said was so exactly to the point that he could not conceive how it should have been so slighted, and she, for her part, begged him to stay in partake of their simple dinner. Dear Madam, it cannot be, he replied. Alas, I must not think of it. My conscience reproaches me for indulging as I have done in what is far sweeter than even one of your dinners. A most sensible lady's society. I have a long bitter ride before me to comfort the fatherless and the widow. My two legs of mutton will be thawed by this time in the general warmth of your stable. I also am thawed, warmed, and feasted, I may say, by happy approximation to a mind so bright and congenial. Captain Annerley, Madam, has shown true kindness in allowing me the privilege of exclusive speech with you. Little did I hope for such a piece of luck this morning. You have put so many things in a new and brilliant light, that my road becomes clear before me. Justice must be done, and you feel quite sure that Robin Leith committed this atrocious murder, because poor Caraway surprised him so when making clandestine love, at your brother's squire Papa Welles, to a beautiful young lady who shall be nameless. And deeply as you grieve for the loss of such a neighbor, the bravest officer of the British navy, who leapt from a strictly immeasurable height into a French ship, and scattered all her crew, and has since had a baby about three months old, as well as innumerable children, you feel that you have reason to be thankful, sometimes, that the young man's character has been so clearly shown, before he can try to make his way into the bosom of respectable families in the neighborhood. I never thought it how quite so clear is that, sir, for I feel so sorry for everybody, and especially those who have brought him up, and those he is made away with. Quite so, my dear madam, such are your fine feelings, springing from the goodness of your nature. Pardon my saying that you could have no other, according to my experience of a most benevolent countenance. Part of my duty, and in such a case as yours, one of the pleasantest parts of it, is to study the expression of a truly benevolent, I am not that old, sir, asking of your pardon to pretend to be benevolent. All that I lay claim to is to look at things sensible. Certainly, yet with a tincture of high feeling, now if it should happen that this poor young man were of very high birth, perhaps the highest in the country, and heir to very large landed property, and a title, and all that sort of nonsense, you would look at him from the very same point of view? That I would, sir, that I would, so long as he was proclaimed for hanging, but naturally bound, of course, to be more sorry for him. Yes, from sense of all the good things he must lose, there seems, however, to be strong ground for believing, as I may tell you in confidence, Dr. Upp-Round does, that he had no more to do with it than you or I, madam. At first I concluded, as you have done, I am going to see Mrs. Caroway now. Till then I suspend my judgment. Now that is what nobody should do, Mr. Mordox. I have tried, but never found good come of it. To change your mind is two words against yourself, and you go wrong both ways, before and after. Undoubtedly you do, ma'am. I never thought of that before. But you must remember that we have not the gift of hitting, I might say, of making, the truth with a flash or a dash as you ladies have. May I be allowed to come again? To tell you the truth, sir, I am heartily sorry that you are going away at all. I could have talked to you all afternoon. And how seldom I get the chance now, Lord knows. There is that in your conversation which makes one feel quite sure of being understood. Not so much in what you say, sir, if you understand my meeting as in the way you look, quite as if my meeting was not at all too quick for you. My good husband is of a greater mind than I am, being nine and forty inches round the chest. But his mind seems somehow to come after mine, the same as the ducks do, going down to our pond. Mistress Annerley, how thankful you should be! What a picture of conjugal felicity! But I thought that the drake always led the way. Never upon our farm, sir, when he doth it is a proof of his being crossed with wild ducks, the same as a bee round flamborough. Oh, now I see the truth. How slow I am! It improves their flavour at the expense of their behaviour. But seriously, madam, you are fit to take the lead. What a pleasant visit I have had! I must brace myself up for a very sad one now. A poor lady, with none to walk behind her, yes, to be sure. It is very fine of me to talk, but if I was left without my husband I should only care to walk after him. Please, to give her my kind love, sir, though I have only seen her once, and if there is anything that we can do— If there's anything we can do, said the farmer, coming out of his corn chamber, we won't talk about it, but we'll do it, Mr. Mordux. The factor quietly dispersed this rebuke by waving his hand at his two legs of mutton and the cod, which had thawed in the stable. I knew that I should be too late, he said. Her house will be full of such little things as these, so warm is the feeling of the neighbourhood. I guessed as much, and arranged with my butcher to take them back in that case. And he said that they would eat all the better for the ride. But as for the cod, perhaps you will accept him. I could never take him back to Flamborough. Right away, sir, right away, said the farmer who had better not to have measured swords with Mordux. I were thinking of sending a cart over there so soon as the weather should be opening of the roads up. But the children might be hankering, after meat, the worse for all the snow time. It is almost impossible to imagine such a thing, universally respected, suddenly cut off, enormous family with hereditary younger. All the neighbours well aware of straightened circumstances, the kindest-hearted country in Great Britain. Sorrow and abundance must have cloied their appetites, as at a wealthy man's funeral. What a fool I must have been not to foresee all that. Better see than foresee, replied the farmer who was crusty from remembering that he had done nothing. Neighbours likes to wait for neighbours to go in. Same as two cows staring at a new moan meadow. End of Chapter 43 Recording by Keith Salis Chapter 44 Of Mary Annerley This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Mary Annerley by Richard Dodridge Blackmore Chapter 44 The Way of the World Cliffs snow-mantled and storm-plowed sands and dark-gray bellows frilled with white, rolling and roaring to the shrill east wind made the Bay of Bridelington a very different sight from the smooth fair scene of August. Scarcely could the staggering colliers, anchored under flambor-o'-head, which they gladly would have rounded if they could, hold their own against the wind and sea, although the outer spit of sand tempered as yet the full violence of waves. But if everything looked cold and dreary, rough and hard and bare of beauty, the cottage of the late lieutenant standing in the shallow bluff beaten by the wind and blinded of its windows from within, of all things looked the most forlorn, most desolate and freezing. The windward side was piled with snow, on the crest of which foam pellets lay, looking yellow by comparison, and melting small holes with their brine. At the door no footmark broke the drift, and against the vaporous sky no warmer vapor tufted the chimney-pots. I'm pretty nearly frozen again, said Mordox, but that place sends another shiver down my back. All the poor little devils must be icicles, at least. After peeping through a blind he turned pale betwixt his blueness and galloped to the public house abutting on the quay. Here he marched into the parlor and stamped about till a merry-looking landlord came to him. Have a glass of hot, sir! How blue your nose is! The geniomaster said to him, the reply of the factor cannot be written down in these days of noble language, enough that it was a terse malediction of the landlord, the glass of hot and even his own nose. Boniface was no Yorkshireman. Elsie would have given as much as he got, at least in lingual currency. As it was he considered it no affair of his if a gas expressed his nationality. You must have better orders than that to give, I hope, sir. Yes, sir, I have, and you have got the better of me, which has happened to me three times this day already, because of the freezing of my wits, young man. Now you go in to your best locker and bring me your very best bottle of cognac. None of your government's stuff, you know, but a sample of your finest bit of smuggling. Why did I swear at a glass of hot? Why, because you are all such a set of scoundrels. I want a glass of hot as much as a man ever did. But how can I drink it when a woman and child are dying, perhaps dead for all I know, for want of warmth and vitals? Your next-door neighbor's almost, and a woman whose husband has just been murdered, and here you are swizzling and rattling your coppers. Good God, sir, the almighty from heaven would send orders to have his own commandment broken. Mr. Mordox was excited, and the landlord saw no cause for it. What makes you carry on like this? He said, it was only last night we was talking in a taproom of getting a subscription up downright liberal. I said I was good for a crown, and take it out of the tick they owes me. And when you come to think of these hard times, take that and then tell me if you find them softer. Suiting the action to the word, the universal factor did something omitted on his card in the list of his comprehensive functions. As the fat host turned away to rub his hands with a phosphoric feeling of his future generosity, a set of highly energetic toes prefixed with the toughest York leather, and tingling for exercise made him their example. The landlord flew up among his own pots and glasses, his head struck the ceiling, which declined too long a taste of him, and an anon, a silvery ring, announced his return to his own timbers. Accept that, neighborly subscription, my dear friend, and acknowledge its promptitude, said Mr. Mordox, and now be quick about your orders. Pertadventure as second flight might be less agreeable. Now don't show any heirs you have been well treated and should be thankful for the facilities you have to offer. I know a poor man without any legs at all, who would be only too glad if he could do what you have done. Then his taste must be a queer one, the landlord replied, as he illustrated, sadly, the discovery reserved for a riper age, that human fingers have attained their present flexibility, form and skill by habit of assuaging for some millions of ages the woes of the human body. Now don't waste my time like that, cried Mordox, and seeing him draw near again, his host became right active. Benevolence must be inculcated, continued the factor, following strictly in pursuit. I have done you a world of good, my dear friend, and reflection will compel you to heap every blessing on me. I don't know about that, replied the landlord. It is certain, however, that this exhibition of philanthropic vigor had a fine effect. In five minutes all the resources of the house were at the disposal of this rapid agent, who gave his orders right and left, clapped down a big bag of cash and took it up again and said, Now just you mind my horse, twice as well as you mind your fellow creatures. Take a leg of mutton out, and set it roasting. Have your biggest bed hot for a lot of frozen children. By the Lord, if you don't look alive, I'll have you up for murder. As he spoke, a stout fishwoman came in from the quay, and he beckoned to her, and took her with him. You can't come in, said a little weak voice when Mr. Mordox, having knocked in vain, began to prize open the cottage door. Mother is so poorly, and you mustn't think of coming in. Oh, whatever shall I do if you won't stop when I tell you? Where are all the rest of you? Oh, in the kitchen, are they? You poor little Adamie. How many of you are dead? None of us dead, sir. Without it is the baby. Here Geraldine burst into a wailing storm of tears. I gave him every bit. She sobbed. Every bit, sir. But the rust lights, and them they wouldn't eat, sir, or I never would have touched them. But Mother has gone off her head, and maybe won't eat it. You are a little heroine, said Mordox, looking at her. The pinched face, and the hollow eyes, and the tottering blue legs of her. You are greater than a queen. No queen forgets herself in that way. Please, sir, no. I ate almost a box of rust lights. And they were only done last night, who if baby would have took to them. Hot bread, and milk, and this bottle. Pour it out. Feet are first, Molly. Mr. Mordox ordered. The world can't spare such girls as this. Oh, you won't eat first? Very well. Then the others shall not have a morsel till your mouth is full. And they seemed to want it bad enough. Where is the dead baby? In the kitchen, where they now stood, not a spark of fire was lingering, but some wood ash still retained a feeble memory of warmth. And the three little children, blessed with small advance from babyhood, were huddling around with hands and faces and sharp, grimy knees poking for lukewarm corners. While two rather senior young caraways were lying fast asleep with a jack towel over them. But Tommy was not there, that gallant Tommy, who had ridden all the way to Filey after dark and brought his poor father to the fatal place. Mordox, with his short, bitter sweet smile, considered all these little ones. They were not beautiful, nor even pretty. One of them was too literally a chip of the old block. For he had reproduced his dear father's scar, and every one of them wanted a wash and brush-up, as well as a warming and sound whittling. Choroptio optimi pessima. These children had always been so highly scrubbed in the great molecular author of existence, dirt-resumed parental sway, with tenfold power of attachment and protection, the moment soap and flannel ceased their wicked usurpation. Please, sir, I couldn't keep them clean. I couldn't. Cry Geraldine, choking both with bread and milk and tears. I had Tommy to feed through the coal cellar door, and all the bits of vitals in the house to hunt up, and it did get so dark, and it was so cold, I am frightened to think of what mother will say for my burning up all of her brushes and the baskets. But please, sir, little Sissy was a freezing at the nose. The three little children at the great were peeping back over the pits in their shoulders, half frightened at the tall, strange man, and half ready to toddle to him for protection, while the two on the floor sat up and stared and opened their mouths for their sister's bread and milk. Then Jerry flew to them and squatted on the stones and very nearly choked them with her spoon and basin. Molly, take two in your apron and be off, said the factor to the stout fishwoman, who is simply full of staring, and of crying out, Oh, Lord! Pop them into the hot bed at once. They want warmth first and vitals by and by. Our wonderful little maid wants food most. I will come after you with the other three, but I must see my little queen fill her own stomach first. But please, sir, won't you let our Tommy out first? Cry Jerry, as a strong woman lapped up the two youngest in her woolsy apron and ran off with them. He has been so good, and he was too proud to cry so soon as ever he found out the mother couldn't hear him, and I gave him the most to eat of anybody else because of him being the biggest, sir. It was all as black as ink going under the door, but Tommy never minded. Wonderful merit, while you were eating tallow. Show me the coal-seller, and out he comes. But why don't you speak of your poor mother, child? The child, who had been so brave and clever, self-denying, laborious and noble, avoided his eyes and began to lick her spoon, as if she had had enough, starving, though she was. She glanced up at the ceiling, and then suddenly withdrew her eyes, and the blue lids trembled over them. Mordak saw that it was childhood's dread of death. Show me where little Tommy is, he said. We must not be too hard upon you, my dear, but what made your mother lock you up and carry on so? I don't know it all, sir, said Geraldine. Now don't tell a story, answered Mr. Mordak's. You are not meant for lies, and you know all about it. I shall just go away if you tell stories. Then all I know is this, cried Jerry, running up to him, and desperately clutching at his riding-coat. The very night, dear father, was put into the pit-hole. Now we can't stop for that. So the general factor, as he took her up and kissed her, and the tears which had vainly tried to stop ran out of young eyes upon well-seasoned cheeks. You have been a wonder. I am like a father to you. You must tell me quickly or else how can I cure it. We will let Tommy out, then, and try to save your mother. Mother was sitting in the window, sir, said the child trying strongly to command herself. And I was to one side of her, and Tommy to the other, and none of us was saying anything. And then there came a bad, wicked face against the window, and the man said, What is it you said today, ma'am? And mother stood up. She was quite right then, and she opened the window, and she looked right at him. And she said, I spoke the truth, John Cadman, between you and your God at rest. And the man said, You shut your black mouth up, or you and your brat shall all go the same way. Mind one thing, you have had your warning. The mother fell away, for she was just worn out. And she lay upon the floor, and she kept on moaning. There is no God! There is no God! After all she had taught us to say our prayers to. And there was nothing for baby to draw ever since. For once in his life Mr. Mordox held his tongue, and his face, which was generally fiercer than his mind, was now far behind it in ferocity. He thought within himself, well, I am come to nothing to have let such things be going on in a matter which pertains to my office. Pigeon hole one hundred. This comes of false delicacy, my stumbling block perpetually. No more of that, now for action. Geraldine looked up at him and said, Oh, please, sir. And then she ran off to show the way toward Little Tommy. The coal cellar flew open before the foot of Mordox, but no Tommy appeared till his sister ran in. The poor little fellow was quite dazzled with the light, and the grime on his cheeks made the inrush of fresh air come like wasps to him. No, Tommy, you be good! said Geraldine. Trouble enough has been made about you. The boy put out his underlip and blinked with great amazement, after such a quantity of darkness and starvation to be told to be good was a little too bad. His sense of right and wrong became fluid with confusion. He saw no sign of anything to eat, and the loud howl of an injured heart began to issue from the coley rampart of the neglected teeth. Quite right, my boy, Mr. Mordox said. You have had a bad time and are entitled to lament. Wipe your nose on your sleeve and have at it again. Dirty, dirty things I hear. Who has come into my house like this? My house and my baby belong to me. Go away, all of you! How can I bear this noise? Mrs. Carraway stood in the passage behind them, looking only fit to die. One of her husbands' watchcoats hung around her, falling nearly to her feet, and the long clothes of her dead baby, which she carried hung over it, shaking like a white dog's tail. She was standing with her bare feet well apart, and that swing of hip and heel alternate which mothers for a thousand generations have supposed to lull their babies into sweet sleep. For once in his life the general factor had not the least idea of the proper thing to do. Not only did he not find it, but he did not even seek for it, standing aside rather out of the way and trying to look like a calm spectator, but this availed him to no account whatever. He was the only man there, and the woman naturally fixed upon him. You are the man, she said in a quiet and reasonable voice, and coming up to Mordox with the manner of a lady. You are the gentleman, I mean, who promised to bring back my husband. Where is he? Have you fulfilled your promise? My dear madam, my dear madam, consider your children and how cold you are. Allow me to conduct you to a warmer place. You scarcely seem to enter into the situation. Oh yes, I do, sir, thoroughly, thoroughly. My husband is in his grave. My children are going after him, and the best place for them. But they shall not be murdered. I will lock them up, so that they never shall be murdered. My dear lady, I agree with you entirely. You do the very wisest thing in these bad times, but you know me well. I have had the honour of making your acquaintance in a pleasant manner. I feel for your children quite as if I was, I mean, ma'am, a very fine old gentleman's affection. Geraldine, come and kiss me, my darling. Tommy, you may have the other side, never mind the coal, my boy. There is a coal wharf quite close to my windows at home. These children, who had been hiding behind Mr. Mordox and Molly, who has now come back, immediately did as he ordered them. A rather jerry led the way and made Tommy come as well, by a signal which he never durced gainsay. But while they saluted the general factor, who sat down upon a box to accommodate them, from the corners of their eyes they kept a timid, trembling, melancholy watch upon their own mother. Bormus's caraway was capable of wondering. Her power of judgment was not so far lost as it is in a dream, where we wonder at nothing but cast off skeptic misery. And for the moment she seemed to be brought home from the distance of roving delusion by looking at two of her children kissing a man who was hunting in his pocket for his card. Circumstances, madam, said Mr. Mordox, have deprived me of the pleasure of producing my address. It should be in two of my pockets, but it seems to have strangely escaped from both of them. However, I will write it down, if required. Geraldine, dear, where is your school's late? Go and look for it, and take Tommy with you. This surprised Mrs. Caraway and began to make her think. These were her children. She was nearly sure of that. Her own poor children, who were threatened from all sides with the likelihood of being done away with. Yet he was a man who made much of them and kissed them, and they kissed him without asking her permission. I scarcely know what it is about, she said, and my husband is not here to help me. You have hit the very point, ma'am. You must take it on yourself, how wonderfully clever the ladies always are. Your family is waiting for a government supply. Everybody knows that everybody in the world may starve before government thinks of supplying supply. I do not belong to the government. Although, if I had my desserts, I should have done so. But, fully understanding them, I step in to anticipate their action. I see that the children of a very noble officer and his admirable wife have been neglected through the rigor of the weather and condition of the roads. I am a very large factor in the neighborhood who make a good thing out of all such cases. I step in. Circumstances favor me. I discover a good stroke of business. My very high character, though much obscured by diffidence, secures me universal confidence. The little deers take to me and I to them. They feel themselves safe under my protection from their most villainous enemies. They are pleased to kiss a man of strength and spirit who represents the government. Mrs. Caroway scarcely understood a jot of this. Such a rush of words made her weak brain go round, and she looked out vainly for her children who had gladly escaped upon the chance afforded. But she came to the conclusion that she was meant to come to, that this gentleman before her was the government. I would do whatever I am told, she said, looking miserably round as if for anything to care about. Only I must count my children first, or the government might say there was not the proper number. Of all points that is the very one that I would urge, Mordax answered without dismay. Molly, conduct this good lady to her room, light a good fire as the commissioners have ordered, warm the soup sent from the arsenal last night, but be sure that you put no pepper in it. The lady will go with you and follow our directions. She sees the importance of having all her faculties perfectly clear when we make our schedule, as we shall do in a few hours' time, of all the children every one with the date of their birth and the Christian names which nobody knows so well as their own dear mother. Ah, how very sweet it is to have so many of them, and to know the pride, the pleasure, the delight, which the nation feels in providing for the welfare of every little darling.